#today i went to pick up my new glasses and ordered new sunglasses

[expelliarmus]

[lis-likes-fics]

Is It Over?

Pairings: Carlisle Cullen x Reader Warnings: Abuse, multiple injuries, mentions of self-harm, accusations of self-harm, sparkling vampires.... Author’s Note: This is 11.6k words, this is your only warnings.

~~~~~

"So, how long are you planning on staying at this school?" the principal asked.

You did not respond, you were not allowed to do the talking. "The time varies, my husband's work takes us all over all the time. Perhaps a month or two?" She swished her raven hair over her shoulder, her sunglasses set on her face to distract from her crimson eyes, despite the fact that there was a cloud covering every patch of sky in this town.

"Ah, remind me again your relation?" he asked, his gaze practically glued to her.

"Adoptive mother," she flashed him a smile.

He wrote it down with an "alright-y" and flashed his own smile. "Wonderful, I'm sure you'll fit right in then."

"How do you mean?" she asked.

He looked up at her, "Oh, well, we have a family of adoptives in this town. They're a little strange, I must admit, but you should fit in just fine."

She nodded and then turned to you, "You hear that? You'll fit right in." That was a reminder. You gave a nod and a shy smile and looked away.

The meeting with the principal to have you registered soon ended, and you returned to the motel the three of you were taking residence in.

"Nathaniel will be back soon. In the meantime, I'm hungry," Camilla gave a chilling smile and you nodded as you went to sit next to her. You hesitantly raised your arm as she tossed her glasses away and grasped your arm. She bit into it roughly and you swallowed your whimper of pain.

Ever since they decided to keep you, they also used you as a snack. You were just a blood bag for when they got hungry and didn't want to go out and find someone to drain.

You were practically covered in their scars, both bites and knives, and were condemned to wear turtle neck sweaters for the rest of your life.

Tomorrow, you would start life at, yet, another school. It was just a cover. You were 20 years old and should have been in college by now.

However, you were found by Camilla and Nathaniel when you were 16. They slaughtered your family and kept you, you never knew why. Ever since, you've been going state to state with them, registering at school after school with a new identity to work as a lure. Usually, they had you get close to some sort of family or something of the like and lure them back to Camilla and her mate so they could have their fun and feed before leaving again.

They didn't need you to feed, but they sure had fun with it.

This was be your life until you no longer looked like you were pass as a student. They would either kill you do find a different tactic.

It wasn't long before Nathaniel came back to the motel, where he had hopped on board with Camilla and fed from you. It was usually easier to cut than to bite for a better cleanup and cover up, but they seemed especially snack-y today.

You were eventually sent away so you could do your own type of feeding, actual food. You wish you could have escaped, just run away. But Camilla was a tracker, he would find you. Last time you tried to escape, you were found by him and the consequence was deadly.

So you drove off to the nearest restaurant, ordered, and stayed out as long as you could before returning to get ready for your first day of school.

When you arrived, the students immediately started crowding around you and trying to become friends. You were picked up by a group, a small group with normal human teenagers that were all interested in knowing you. That meant you would have to choose one of these students to get close to and lead to their deaths.

You thought about Jessica first. She seemed pretty self-absorbed, while also being mildly interested in you. You decided against it however, when she helped you in getting out of things Tyler and Mike wanted to invite you to.

Angela was an absolute pass. She was way too sweet and caring and you did not want to have her killed. She would be spared.

You thought about Tyler, but also sided against that. He and Eric were a pass as you decided they were too good to kill.

Bella was a suffer in silence type, as easier as it would be to help her along and put her out of her misery, there was something about her that made you side against it as well. She should live to grow old, not die brutally at the hands of vampires.

Mike, on the other hand, was overbearing and was constantly trying to ask you out. He was practically offering himself up, and he was extremely annoying. It seemed less than humane, but you had lost some of your humanity after the first victims you were responsible for.

You tread carefully, trying to steer clear of the famous Cullens who people seemed to dub as freaky celebrities. If they are popular, you don't touch them. Besides, they give out a certain air that you don't want any part of.

You kept extreme distance and caution.

You did everything with painstaking care. One mishap and you would be dead by Nathaniel or Camilla, whoever got to kill you.

But then, something terrible happened, and you were in a shit ton of trouble. Jessica saw one of the cuts on your arm.

As was said before, it was better to clean up and cover up when you provided cuts that would heal, rather than them biting you and the bite sealing over with silver. It was easier for everyone. Those cuts scarred over naturally, so you had to wear long sleeves all the time to keep them from prying eyes.

But Jessica saw a few of the fresher ones and grew worried, thinking that something terrible was happening with a new friend of hers. "I'm taking you to the hospital to get that checked out... along with that bite, that's freaky."

"No, please, don't," you begged as you pulled you arm away. "I... have a cat who scratches me all the time," you were hoping your excuse would work, but were very wrong.

"You don't have a speck of fur on you," she argued.

"Really good lint rollers?" you tried.

"Come on," she pulled you. You groaned, "Wait! I... I don't like doctors. Terrified of them."

"I don't care. You shouldn't do this to yourself," she said as she mumbled under your breath, pulling you to the parking lot as the end of school bell rang. The two of you past by Bella, who looked concerned as she asked, "What's wrong?"

Jessica had a firm grip on your arm as she stopped and turned around, holding you so you didn't run off. "Trip to the hospital," Jessica said.

"What happened?" Bella asked, her brown eyes filled with worry.

Jessica looked around to make sure no one else was prying when she rolled up your sleeve, to your protests, and showed her the cuts on your arms. Bella's eyes went wide, "Oh my god," she gasped.

You groaned, "Please don't make a big deal out of it like Jess. Everything is fine, I'm fine."

"No, you're not. I'm getting you to the hospital," Jessica argued.

Bella nodded and you gave her a glare to point out her betrayal, "She's right. I'll come with you. I'll bring Edward, his father works there."

Edward Cullen, one of the celebrities. Don't get close to celebrities.

You tried to protest, but it didn't seem like you were being heard as you were practically shoved into Jessica's car. It wasn't long before you arrived at the hospital. You hesitantly got out of the car and were brought inside with Bella and Edward following.

Edward's hard gaze was on you for a long time as he stared, and you were beginning to grow uneasy under his glare. You were used to them, you got them from Camilla and Nathaniel all the time, but his was different. It made you want to crawl under a rock and get away. It was like he was dissecting you, getting into your mind and pulling you apart.

Once inside, you, Jessica, and Bella took a seat in the waiting room as Edward went to retrieve his father. He returned in what seemed like no time with a man in front of him. You did not look up to see him, you kept your gaze on the floor as you tried to figure out what you could possibly do to persuade everyone that you weren't a troubled teenager.

You were a grown woman who was just being harbored and fed on by vampires. Everything was completely fine.

"Y/N? Your name is Y/N, right?" a clear voice spoke as a doctor approached you. His voice almost had you looking at him, it seemed as if it called to you in more way than one, a lure for your attention.

But you did not look up. You kept your gaze away from the ones who were crowding around you. He spoke again to the others, "I've got it from here, thank you."

The others dispersed to give you some space. He knelt down in front of you in a attempt to get you to look at him, his hands clasped in front of him as he spoke again, "Y/N, my name is Carlisle Cullen. My son tells me your here about self-harm."

You did not respond, you had no idea what to say to persuade him that you didn't do it. The evidence was on your arms.

"Why don't you come with me so we can get away from everyone else? Just one on one," he said.

You huffed and stood, still avoiding his gaze as he finally stood up as well. He led you down the hall to a room for the both of you to speak. He opened the door for you and the both of you entered as he closed it behind.

"Can you remove your jacket so that I can see them please?" he asked kindly. His voice was gentle and kind, and his eyes were soft—although, you did not see them.

You did not make a single move to do so, and he spoke again, his voice never changing, "It makes it easier for the both of us if you would please work with me."

You sighed as you slowly removed the jacket. This was one of those days where you only wore a jacket, instead of the jacket and the long sleeves. Everything else needed washing. So as you removed your jacket from your arms, they were bare for him as he saw the bites and cuts that adorned your body.

He did not give you a judgmental look, nor did he make a verbal response. He just took your arms in his hands and examined your skin with gentle touches. You finally looked at him then out of shock at how cold his hands were. You were used to cold hands, but you were not ready for it to come from him.

Your eyes looked at him for the first time, and you were instantly shocked at the beauty he displayed. It was so cheesy that this man just happened to look like an angel. He sensed your movement and apologized, seemingly used to people being shocked by his cold touch.

Now that you were looking at him, you could no longer tear your eyes away. His calm smile was set on his face to make you comfortable. His hair was an icy blonde, and his skin was pale and smooth.

His skin was pale and smooth, and his touch was cold. You knew that all too well. But you doubted you were right. What were the odds?

What were the odds?

Carlisle's fingers ghosted over the bites on your arm, the ones that seemed filled with silver linings, then at the newer cuts that adorned your skin. He knew those bites all too well, one of his children were covered in them.

"Where did you get these bites from?" he asked.

In a quick moment, you replied, "They're special tattoos. My mom has a friend who does them professionally and she let me get them... That's why they look so real."

You were a quick liar, you had to be with the life that you lived, but Carlisle seemed to hear past your lie, literally. Your heartbeat kicked up after the lie so smoothly left your tongue. He hummed anyway and looked back at the cuts.

"And the cuts?" he asked, raising a brow as he awaited your lie.

"Cats," you tried again.

He shook his head with a chuckle, "I've seen cat scratches, that's not it."

"Sharp claws," he said.

"Y/N," he said calmly. He finally raised his eyes to look at you again and caught your gaze. He seemed to not have realized you looking back at him. Now that he had a good look at your face, he could tell you had to have been older than 17.

He shook it from his head, however. He knew for sure where the bites were from, but he was still on the fence about the cuts. It was plausible that you were living a certain life you had no care for and it was weighing down on you, or there was something else that he had not thought of yet.

Either way, he had to ask you questions.

"When did this first start?" he asked, his eyes looking inti yours.

You were slow to answer him, curious about the gold of his eyes. Camilla and Nathaniel's eyes were red, you had never met another one with gold eyes—not that you have met a ton of vampires.

He couldn't be a vampire. It was probably just coincidence.

You shook your head as you answered, "I didn't do them."

"If you were to have done them," he said, "When would it start?"

You could see that there was no way to get around it now. The best thing you could do was just play along. You let out a defeated sigh and seemingly hung your head, your shoulders slumping as you spoke in a monotone voice, "Four years ago."

That is technically when it started.

"Has it worsened at all in the last few months?" he questioned, his eyes still looking into yours, as if searching for a lie.

You shrugged and looked away from him then, your eyes looking out of the window as you begged for it to end. "It's all the same."

"Do you know of anything that may have caused it in the first place?" he asked.

You shrugged again. "My father's work," you scowled at that title for Nathaniel, "takes him all over all the time and my mother likes us to stay together so we travel with him. I don't have a stable life. I'm at different school all the time."

"How many schools have you been to?"

"Too many."

He continued to ask you questions until finally, finally it was over. He let you go with a prescription for anti-depressants and told you to come back again for a checkup soon.

You would never come back if you could help it.

Jessica was going to drive you back to the school so you could get your car and go back to the motel, but she mentioned something about being late to her new job, so Bella and Edward insisted on taking you.

Which meant you would be stuck in a car with two people who were off limits, one more than the other.

No celebrities, only nobodies.

Edward was not a nobody in this town, and it seemed Bella was not either. She was the chief's daughter which meant she was definitely a celebrity.

That meant they were safe and you were in trouble. You had already been out too long, and now you're hanging out with celebrities.

Edward dropped you off at the school so you could get to your car, and you quietly begged Bella not to go blabbing to the school. "Trust me, I'm not that girl," she whispered back.

You kept your gaze off of Edward and scurried to your car before practically racing out of the parking lot and back to the motel. It reminded Edward of his own driving.

You sat outside of the motel with a deep sigh before getting out of your car and walking into the room. You were met with Camilla, whose arms were crossed over her chest as she stood. Nathaniel was sitting next to her, whose hand was curled around her thigh as he looked at you with a sadistic smirk.

"Where were you?" she asked, her tone harsh.

You winced and hung your head low as you spoke, "I'm sorry... I was out with Mike... at his place. He's the nobody. I lost track of the time and-"

"Don't lie to me!" she responded, in front of you in no time as she grasped your wrist and pulled you close to her. Her voice was low with a threat as she spoke again, "Where were you?"

You held back tears as she squeezed your wrist, you could feel the bones protesting against her as it undoubtedly bruised up against her hold. "One of his friends noticed one of the cuts and took me to the hospital because she thought it was self-inflicted. Nothing happened, swear. We aren't in danger of being found out."

She pulled you close so you were inches from her face as she spoke again, "You better be right, for your sake. If something happens, you're paying for it. Do you understand?"

You whimpered as you nodded. "Do you understand?" she asked again harshly, her hand squeezing tighter as you heard a pop!. It was sure to be sprained, at the very least.

"Yes, ma'am," you squeaked as tears stained your cheeks. She let go of you and stepped to the side to cool off. Nathaniel stood and walked over, "Let me help you with that." Grabbing your wrist, popped them back into place. You let out a small cry at the pain as he stepped back. You held your wrist in your hand and tried to hold back your cries. Your wrist had already begun to bruise.

Camilla sat down and patted the spot next to her for you. "Come here," she said before fishing the pocket knife from a drawer, "I'm hungry." Your shoulders slumped, but you moved quickly to avoid being hurt again.

~

You were dropped off at the school the next morning with the assignment of going to Mike's after school to get closer. They had half a mind to make you go for Jessica instead, since she was the one who was making things hard. You told them she was a celebrity and they reluctantly decided to leave her be.

You meant to wrap your arm to next day to avoid showing off the large bruise, but decided that a bruise covered by your sleeve was better than a bruise covered up by obvious gauze bandages.

The next day at lunch, the other's did not seem to have been distracted by you, and you concluded that no one had let anything spill. Edward and Bella, however, had both chosen to sit with your group that day, and he was keeping you under close watch it seemed.

Sometime during lunch when the boys were not paying attention, Jessica turned to you. "Let me see your arms again."

"No," you protested, drawing your hands back. She insisted and, to keep from drawing attention, you did as she told you and gave up your hands.

As soon as she saw the bruise, she looked at you, "I know you didn't do this. What's happening with you at home, girl?"

"Nothing," you said.

"This isn't nothing," she said in a hushed voice, "Is it your dad?"

"No," you told her, "I just caught by arm on something and it got stuck. It bruised over, I'm fine."

She gave a skeptical look as she shook her head and let go of your arms, "Do I need to take you back to the hospital again?"

You shook your head quickly. "No, um, actually," you raised your voice a little to bring the attention of the rest of the table without looking at them, "I was actually going to ask Mike if he wanted to hang today."

He looked up with those stupid hopeful eyes, "Wait, really?"

You looked over and feigned surprise, "Oh, uh, if that's okay with you?"

He glanced around the table, his eyes darting at Bella as if he was making sure she was paying attention. You and to fight the urge to roll your eyes. You knew part of the reason he liked you was because he was trying to make Bella jealous, even if it was obvious that she had no intentions of being with him.

"Uh, yeah. That's— Uh, that's cool with me. We could, uh, we could go to my place or see a movie," he said.

You nodded, "Um, your place sounds great."

"Okay, cool," he said with a smile as he nodded. Eric and Tyler turned to him with smiles as they congregated, "Congrats, man."

"Ah, it's nothing," Mike said as he tried to play it off. You let out a bit of a sigh and turned back to Jessica. She gave you a long look and rolled her eyes, "Really?"

You shrugged, "I like hanging with my friends."

You glanced at Edward to see him staring too intensely at the table, and it made you shiver. He reminded you too much of Camilla and Nathaniel, he radiated the danger they gave off.

After school, Mike took you to his place as planned, and you met his parents. That was good, you were going to have to at some point. They seemed nice and offered you whatever you wanted, to which you declined politely. He played video games as you watched next to him, bored out of your mind as you dodged every attempt he made at trying to get close to you.

He kept trying to kiss you, and it weirded you out.

You were 20 and he was 17. Under no circumstance would you ever try and date any of the victims. That was an absolute no.

The time finally came for you to return home, and Camilla came to pick you up. That was also good. She had to meet the parents.

The only next move was to convince Mike that you were dating—gross—and have his parents invite yours to dinner.

Then you would stick around for another couple of days before leaving again. You hoped it happened soon, as terrible as that sounded. This place was giving you a strange feeling that you did not like.

~

You soon found yourself at the hospital again. Forks was a place where warm weather was fsr and few. On an especially cold day, the ground had frozen over and was slick with ice. Used to these weather conditions, nothing in town was canceled, so you still had school.

While you were out in the parking lot of the school, you had managed to slip and fall. You reached out to your car for support but fell anyway. The slick ground gave you a sprained ankle and the car gave you a nasty gash across your hand.

It started with a small crowd of your "friends", and then it became a large crowd of onlookers. Someone overreacted, as most of this town seemed to do, and called an ambulance. You were rushed to the hospital where you ended up with the same doctor as before.

He walked up to you with that charming smile and golden eyes that seemed less golden. "Y/N," he greeted as he approached you, "You missed your appointment last week."

You gave a small, fake smile, "Sorry, doctor. Bad memory."

He chuckled lightly as he began to examine your ankle. "It's not too bad, it's just a sprain. As for your hand," he said as he came to look at it, "You'll need stitches."

You sighed and looked away. He got to work and made small talk as he fixed you up. "How have you been?"

"You mean with the scars you seemed so interested in before?" you asked, rolling your eyes.

"No, I mean in general," he responded with a chuckle. You shrugged, "Same as always."

"Which is?"

"Does it matter?" you questioned, looking back at him as he glanced up at you.

"Does it?" he asked. That was not the response you were expecting. The smile on his face was ultimately genuine as he glanced back at you. You had a pull to you he's never felt in anyone before, one that you were feeling toward him that you would not allow yourself to feel.

You shrugged and looked away again. "You keep doing that," he commented.

"Doing what?" you asked.

"Breaking eye contact," he answered as he moved to your hand, "You never look at me."

"I never look at anyone."

He hummed, slowly but surely wrapping up your arm, as if he was trying to prolong this as much as possible. You watched him in silence, unable to look away from him as he worked. When he finished with your hand, you got ready to jump down when he rolled up your sleeve.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

"My job. I'm just having a quick look at your arms," he said. His smile wavered when he saw fresh cuts in your skin and the faintest bruise in you wrist.

"You're bruised," he said before his thumbs prodded at your wrist. You winced and he had you sit back down. "Your wrist isn't set right, what happenened?" You knew it was still hurting, but you thought Nathaniel had set it already. He must have done it wrong to mess with you.

You shrugged again with another sigh. You were tired of the questions, you just wanted to go back to the school or to wait in your car by yourself. "I must have done something to it, I don't know," you tried.

"Y/N," he said, "The way this was bruised was no accident. What happened?"

"Nothing, I'm fine."

He quieted his voice as to not draw attention as he spoke again, "What happened to your arm?"

"I'm fine," you answered in the same tone, just more firm.

He let out a sigh, not a tired one, a sad one. As if he was begging you to give him a straight answer, an honest one so he knew how to help you. He shook his head, "Alright... Well I have to reset your wrist."

You sighed as you braced yourself. "Have you been taking the pills?"

"Yeah," you lied.

"On time?" he asked as he felt around your wrist.

"Yeah."

"I'm going to count down and when I get to one, I'm going to set it. It's going to hurt," he said. You shrugged instinctively. You were used to being in pain at this point. It was not the best reaction you could have given, but it wasn't as if you could take it back.

He seemed shocked by your response but shook it off. "Three... two-" Pop!

"Fuck!" you whisper shouted. You closed your eyes and balled your hand into a fist, beating it against the bed you were sat on. "Sorry," he apologized as he wrapped your wrist in a brace.

"Yeah, thanks, Dr. Cullen," you huffed.

"Call me Carlisle," he said half-mindedly. You hummed in response.

He finished wrapping your wrist and allowed you to stand. You positioned yourself carefully on your good leg as he walked with you.

"Come in for a checkup soon, please," he said, "I'll send you appointment details, try to remember this one." As he helped you walk, he added, "Hey, please be nice to yourself. You don't need anymore cuts to your collection."

In a moment to impulse, you said, "It's either the cut or another tattoo, your choice." You both stopped suddenly at your words and he looked at you in shock.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!, you thought as you chuckled nervously. "Sorry, bad joke. I'll just dye my hair or cut it off, or both," you hoped that response would help.

"How about none of the above?" he said as he slowly recovered from your response. As you stepped out into the lobby, you were met with Camilla and Nathaniel sat down and waiting for you.

You stilled and readied yourself for your punishment. When her eyes caught you, they both stood. She walked over to you with a sickly sweet smile, her arms held out. She grabbed your arms tight in her hands as her shaded eyes scanned your face. Her hands tightened around your arms, letting you know what was to come as she began to cut off your circulation with how hard she was holding you. She spoke in a sickeningly sweet voice, "Oh my goodness! I was so worried, what happened?"

"I fell and sprained my ankle. Don't worry, I'm fine," you said as she let go of you. She turned to Carlisle, "Thank you so much for taking care of her, doctor."

To your surprise, he was not suddenly taken by her beauty just as everyone else was. You expected him to fill them in on your problems but he instead said, "It was no problem. Just make sure she takes care of those injuries so she can get better."

He lead them over to talk about extra details. When they finished, they came back over to you and Nathaniel wrapped a hand around your shoulders and said, "Let's get you back home, pumpkin."

"Yes, let's," Camilla said.

Carlisle walked over to you and gently pat your back. You felt his hand dip into the pocket of your jacket as he gave a smile. "Don't forget your appointment."

Camilla shot him a smile and ushered you quickly to the door. She rolled her eyes behind her glasses, "You are not making that damn appointment."

You gulped and they stuffed you in the car, her grip on your arm a little too tight as she shoved you inside. They drove off quickly, and you grew anxious at how calm she seemed. Too calm.

When you returned to the motel, you definitely needed a doctor now. You had only sprained your ankle, so she broke it instead. Your wrist was now sprained again, so she broke that too. Instead of feeding on you, she dragged her claw-like nails down your upper arms and gave you deep wounds that you knew would scar terribly.

Nathaniel's punishment was much different. He left the torture to Camilla. She took pleasure in that, and he took pleasure in watching. His punishment had to do with his appetite. He fed on you just before it was enough to do too much damage. He did not care as much.

You were in immense pain. You need so much help.

As you hid in the bathroom, you grabbed your jacket to see what it was Carlisle had put in it. What you pulled out was a small piece of paper that read, "If you need anything, just call" with his number written under in perfect handwriting.

You almost broke down and started crying, but your throat was sore and you were all out of tears. You looked at the blood that you had accidentally smudged on the paper and sighed heavily.

You stuffed the paper back into your pocket and leaned your head back. Your stomach rumbled, you were so hungry. You had not eaten since breakfast at the school that morning.

Suddenly, the door opened and Camilla stood on the other side. She folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, "Get out of my sight. I don't care how long you're out, as long as you're back before Sunday morning."

It was a Friday night. Camilla allowed you one day of the week to yourself, it was the only freedom you had. She knew you would not do anything stupid because how you were now was the result of such stupidities.

You stood on shaky legs and grabbed your bag that held a phone, wallet, and keys to the car in it. "Leave the keys, we're using the car tomorrow," Nathaniel called from the living room as he stared blankly at the TV. You sighed and dropped them back on he table. You left the motel quickly with your jacket wrapped around your body to hide your injuries. You did not care about those right now, you just needed food.

You got yourself to the nearest diner on a bum leg, limping over the best you could, and ordered your food to go. After getting your food, you ate on the curb and felt some of your strength come back to you.

You sat at the diner for a while as you wondered what to do. As long as you were out of that damn motel, you did not care what you did.

As you shifted around, you winced and your hand came up to your arm as your fresh wounds began hurting you again. You sat back and caught your breath, trying to get the parking lot to stop spinning.

The piece of paper in your pocket seemed to burn a whole into your side. You pulled it out and stared at it for a while as you contemplated what to do. As you thought of the wounds that definitely needed to be patched up, you knew you wouldn't be able to do it yourself.

But you could not bother him, he would have been asleep by then. It was late.

But there was a bigger part of you that told you to pick up the phone and dial the number. That bigger part of you won as you found yourself dialing the number.

He picked up in no time, his voice carrying through the line and washing over you like a gentle wave. "Hello?"

"Carlisle, hey," you mumbled.

"Y/N, how are you? Is something wrong?" he asked.

You cleared your throat to try and sound better than how you felt as you nodded. "Yeah, I just..." you laughed to try and seem okay, "I seem to have found myself in a little problem."

"What happened?" he sounded deeply concerned now.

"I, uh, ran into a dog and it attacked me," you said. It was the only explanation you could come up with to explain the scratches he would be needing to examine, if he chose to.

"A dog?" he asked. You hummed.

"Alright, I'll come get you," he said, "Where are you?"

You looked up at the name of the diner you were sat in front of, and he was on his way in no time. It was not long before his car pulled up into the parking lot and he got out to get to you. You waved at him from where you sat and went to stand, struggling against your pained ankle.

He grabbed you carefully and helped you to stand. "A dog did this?" he asked, his tone giving off his disbelief.

"Big one," you shrugged. He shook his head and helped you to his car so he could check over the damage.

He seemed entirely confused and concerned as he looked you over. He made you shed your jacket so he could look at the damage and just shook his head, "This wasn't a dog attack, Y/N. What actually happened?"

You shrugged, "I... don't know what to tell you... I was walking and stepped into its territory and it attacked me."

He sighed and turned away from you, "I can't help you if you don't tell me the truth."

"Why would I lie?" you asked.

He looked at you for a long time before starting the car again. "Where are we going?" you asked.

"My house. I have my equipment there," he said shortly. You nodded a little and turned away from him.

The drive was silent as you sat there. You did not know what to do with yourself. It hurt to move, really, and you had no idea if it was appropriate to try and strike up a conversation.

He pulled into the drive of his home, which was enormous and grand. It was more of a mansion than it was anything else. He rounded the car to your side and helped you out as she helped you into the house.

It was vacant inside, there was no sign of life. You asked shyly, "Um, where are the others?"

"There all out. It's a Friday, after all," he said bluntly. You nodded absently, and he took you to his office. He sat you down and started pulling out supplies to take care of your wounds.

It was silent as he tended to you. You could not stop yourself from looking up at him, but he did not try to meet your gaze. "Carlisle," you said after too much time had passed in silence.

He did not look at you as his actions paused, "Are you going to lie to me again?"

You coiled back into yourself as you muttered, "I'm sorry." You sucked in your tears, there was no reason for you to be crying right now.

He softened and shook his had, "No, I'm sorry. I did not mean to react that way. Don't cry." He reached a hand out and wiped at a tear that had begun to gather in your eye.

You gave a weak smile and he continued to stitch your wounds before he moved to rewrap your now broken wrist and ankle after resetting them.

When he finished, he did not move as he stood in front of you. He spoke in a quiet voice, "How old are you?"

You looked up at him suddenly, "Seventeen."

"No, you're not. Please don't lie to me," he said, "How old are you really?"

You did not respond, you just watched him watch you. He sighed, "I know what your parents are."

You frowned and looked down at your lap, "If you know about my parents, then you know they aren't my parents..."

Carlisle nodded, "How long?"

"How long what?" you asked as you tilted your head.

"How long have you been with them?"

You shrugged, "They adopted me-"

"Y/N."

"Carlisle."

"Tell me the truth, Y/N," he tried, his voice raising slightly as he continued.

"It's the only truth I'm allowed to tell."

"The lies?" he asked.

You nodded firmly as you spoke in a raised voice, "Yes! If I could stop lying, I would. If I could stop living this life, I would!" Tears flooded your eyes as your lip quivered, "I'm tired. I never asked for this, any of this."

He softened again as his stance fell short. He set his cold hand against your cheek, "I'm sorry."

You sighed, "Edward told you, didn't he?"

"What?" he asked, caught off guard.

"You're vampires right? Your skin is freezing, your eyes change color. He stares off into space sometimes and he's always within vampire hearing range whenever possible. I'm guessing he has a gift and that gift is to read minds. He told you about me as soon as he found out and that's why you pry."

A soft smile ghosted over his lips. His hand fell from your face and you missed the cold warmth. "How old are you?" he asked again.

"I'm 20 years old," you said, "but I look 17."

"No, you don't," he offered a kind smile and you couldn't help but smile back at him.

"How long have you been with them?" he asked.

"Four years," you replied, your hands ghosting over your arms, "They slaughtered my family and kept me to make a scheme when I was 16. Use me to lure in families for them to slaughter and repeat."

He nodded, "And they use you as a blood bag in the process."

You nodded absently as you turned your gaze away. "And I'm guessing the scars are for that reason? All of them?"

You nodded and then shrugged, "Well, actually, these news ones were for becoming a celebrity." You cursed yourself, a hard look on your face as you chastised yourself, "No celebrities, only nobodies."

"And celebrities are..."

"People the town know, people the town will miss. No one would miss Mike Newton," you mumbled the last part. You then sighed, "My job is to become close with a nobody, meet the family and then be invited over for a dinner or something. Then Camilla and Nathaniel kill them and we move on."

"Those are their real names?" he questioned. You nodded. "Is your real name Y/N?"

You nodded again, "One of the rare moments when I get to keep it."

You bowed your head and avoided looking at him. You couldn't bare to look up at this man in front of you. When you found out he was a vampire, you knew something was different, but you did not want to get close anyway.

First, he was a definite celebrity. Second, he pulled you toward him.

Third, he was a vampire, and all vampires were the same. Bloodthirsty, sadistic monsters.

But he was proving you wrong, you didn't want him to prove you wrong.

He set a finger under your chin and you flinched. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said gently as he turned you to look at him. It pained him to see you so afraid and hurt, beat down by those who had changed your life for the worse. "Let my family help you," he said gently, "Let us save you."

You smiled, your eyes filled with flickers of hope before your face fell suddenly. "I wish you could help, but this is my life. I'm condemned to this. And... with the things I've done, I don't deserve help."

His smile faltered and he leaned in a little too quickly. You were caught off guard and jumped, instinctively moving your head to the side to bear your neck as you shut your eyes tight. You waited for the bite, waited for the sharp pain to pierce you and prove you right.

But it didn't come.

Slowly, you opened your eyes and looked at Carlisle. His eyes were sad and he looked like he could cry. He leaned in cautiously this time before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close to him in a hug.

"Everyone deserves help."

You were caught off guard by the hug, your arms were limp at your sides as you stared wide-eyed at the wall.

Slowly, you brought your hands to wrap around him, laying your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes as you found yourself sobbing again. He held you for what felt like forever and rubbed your back gently. "I forgot what this felt like... I haven't been hugged in years," you sobbed as you pulled him tight, ignoring the pain in your arms.

He held you for a long time before finally pulling back just enough to see your face. "Let me help you."

You stared into his eyes, liquid gold and filled with care and worry. You grabbed his face and pulled him closer, crashing your lips down on his as you brought him into a kiss.

His lips were cold, yet they held warmth that you never expected. You could smell his light scent of cologne, which wrapped around you and kept you warm. His set his hands on your waist after his surprise subsided as his lips moved, not against yours, but with yours. One of his hands reached around and held the back of your neck.

You brought his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging on it slightly. The moan you let out was unexpected, but you were too distracted to feel any kind of way by it. Your hands gripped his sides as you continued to pull him closer, his body moving between your legs so he was flush against you. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth to let him in. You explored one another, wrapped up in the taste, in the feel of the other as you lost yourself.

Your chest felt tight as you lost air, and you reluctantly pulled back to breathe. Your eyes stayed closed as you caught your breath, your lips tingled and longed to be pressed against his once more. When you looked at him again, he looked just as star-struck as you felt.

"No one's ever done that to me before," you whispered, "It felt amazing."

There was silence between the two of you as you stared at each other. You brought your thumb to touch his cheek, stroking it gently before pressing your palm to him. "I..." you started, unable to tell what it was you were going to say. You sighed and nodded, "Okay."

"Okay?"

You nodded, "Please help me."

He put his hand under your chin and kissed you again. This time, it was just a soft peck to your lips. "I will."

~

You stayed the night with him in his home, sleeping in the bed he had in his room that was completely unused. He had begun to leave the room, urging you to get some sleep, but you stopped him suddenly. "Can you... Can you stay with me? I just... want to be held for a while."

He gave a soft smile and joined you, wrapping his arms around your body as you laid your head on his chest. "Get some rest," he told you. You nodded and fell asleep almost instantly.

It was the best sleep you had gotten in years.

When the sun woke you the next morning, you stirred as you opened your eyes. You were surprised to find someone next to you, and you practically darted up in fear. You suddenly winced, your hand reaching up to grab your arm. The person next to you reached out a hand and began to say something when you instinctively panicked and shuffled backwards.

Your hand missed the bed as you backed away toward the edge. He reached a hand out to catch you and you groaned when he grasped your arm. He let go quickly and you fell to the ground with a loud thud.

"Ow," you mumbled as you rubbed your back where you had fallen. He leaned over the side of the bed with an apologetic look, "I'm sorry."

You finally recognized Carlisle and calmed down as he carefully brought you into his arms and back into the bed next to him. He brought you into a protective hug, "Are you alright?"

You shrugged, you did that often, "I'm okay."

He kissed your forehead and leaned back against the headboard. You sat where you were, your eyes glued to his face as you admired him. He really was beautiful.

You sat back again, leaning against his chest as you pulled the covers up some more.

There was a knock on the door as the knob turned and you panicked, once again falling off the bed. This time, Carlisle caught you with an arm around your waist.

"What happened up here? I heard a thud?" one of the members of the Cullens, Alice, came through the door. She seemed completely unphased by you being there, leaning off the bed with Carlisle's arm around your waist.

The scene looked quite suggestive as the both of you were frozen in place, staring back at her.

"Alice," Carlisle finally broke the silence. "I'm sure you know Y/N?"

She nodded, "Yeah, I saw her before she even arrived in Forks."

"Of course you did," he said as he helped you back into the bed. You sat there awkwardly, avoiding her gaze. Carlisle slowly moved out of the bed and said, "Go ahead and call a meeting please."

She nodded and smiled, "Already done."

"Of course it is," he nodded. He held a hand out for you and you took it slowly as he let out of the bed. Alice skipped down the hall.

"I would like you to come with me," he said, hope in his eyes. You sighed and nodded, accepting his invitation as you moved out of the bed. You grabbed your jacket, which was stained with your blood.

"You can wear one of my sweaters instead," he said, "That needs cleaning." You nodded and accepted his offer. He handed you one cardigan that you wrapped around yourself. It was oversized and smelled like him. It put you at ease.

He took your hand in his and lead you down the stairs to the kitchen, which was occupied by the students you went to school with.

This was awkward.

"Everyone, you know Y/N," he introduced as he walked into the room, taking the seat at the head of the table and pulling the chair next to him closer for you. You took the seat slowly and sunk in your chair, trying to seem as little as possible in your attempt to disappear.

All of their eyes were on you, most of them confused, and a couple entirely knowing.

"Yeah," Rosalie spoke, "why is she here?"

"Because..." Carlisle hesitated for a moment as he gave her a look that you could not translate. "She needs our help. Edward, can you explain?"

He turned to the others and began to explain the situation, as a mind reader, he had more details than Carlisle himself did. "Y/N's being harbored by vampires. They slaughtered her family when she was 16 and took her in to form this scheme. They go to different towns and admit her into different schools where she picks one person to get close to before the vampires eventually slaughter them and the rest of their family."

Jasper raised a brow, "So why are we helping her?" You shrunk especially under his gaze, turning away as you tried to avoid being seen by him. Your cheeks heated up and you found yourself inching closer to Carlisle for comfort.

Alice looked up at him, "Because she's the victim in this situation. If she doesn't do it, she dies."

He hummed in response, nodding before looking down at Alice's hand on his arm. A tiny smile slipped on his lips, and he turned away again.

Your eyes looked at the hand on his arm and something silvery caught your eyes. You looked at it a little closer, squinting your eyes as you caught sight of bites all over his arms just like yours. You raised up one of the sleeves of Carlisle's cardigan and looked one of the ones on your arm that wasn't covered by your bandages to compare. They were the same.

Edward, who saw this in your mind, spoke again, "Jasper used to work with newborn vampires. Those scars come from them." Jasper seemed indifferent as Edward explained.

Jasper gestured to your wrist, "You've got one?"

You chuckled humorlessly, the corner of your lips lifting up into somewhat of a smirk before you shed the cardigan from your arms to show off your myriad of scars, along with the fresh stitches in your skin. His eyes seemed to widen very slightly in surprise by the amount of scars you had. They almost seemed like more than his.

"She's been with them for four years," Carlisle said. You turned around in the chair, moving your hair and the straps of your t-shirt out of the way to show off more of the scars.

After the examination, you put the sweater back on yourself and moved your hair back over your shoulders as you sat back. "I have way more than just one."

"That's for damn sure," Emmett mumbled. Rosalie smacked his arm and he shrugged, "Just sayin'." You let out another side smirk before looking away again.

"So what's the plan?" Jasper asked, seemingly completely on board now with helping you. You had to hide your smile.

Emmett crackled his knuckles with a bloodthirsty smile, "Are we gonna grind some bloodsuckers?"

Carlisle raised his hand, "Hopefully, it won't come to that. We'll confront them and let them know that this is our town and that they need to leave... without Y/N."

You let out a huffed a silence laugh, your face just as emotionless as the chuckle. The attention was brought back to you and you explained, “Sorry, it's just... Camilla is violent. I'm her property, and she's not going to give me up that easily. Nathaniel only ever follows her lead. He may look like nothing, but he's a brute and a beast. He's a damn good fighter. He'll attack at her command, no question asked. Camilla is gifted, she can basically do anything you do. She's like a mirror."

You sighed, "If you're going to do this, it will be with a fight."

Emmett seemed like a kid who was just given a puppy. He was looking forward for a fight, for some action. Jasper seemed more like he was analyzing what you had just told him, trying to see which angles to do things at.

Edward, no doubt, was looking into everyone's mind. Rosalie seemed bored and Alice looked like she had spaced off.

The silence that had fallen in the room was suddenly interrupted by a phone ringing. Your head darted in the direction of the sound, it was your phone.

Carlisle left to retrieve it and was back in a second, his eyes on the number before he handed it back to you. "It's Camilla," he said softly.

You stilled and reached your hand out, standing as you sighed and answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Y/N, where are you?" Camilla asked.

"Nobody's house," you answered. She did not care about any names of people you knew unless it was the person you had chosen. If you said you were at a nobody's house, she would not question you further.

"Well, get back here before five," she ordered, "The Newtons just invited us to dinner at six. We'll be leaving town in two days."

She hung up the phone, and you froze. For a second, just a small second, it felt as if the world had stopped turning. As soon as that second was over with, time continued on and you let out a sigh.

This had happened too many times for you to have a proper response to the death of a family. That part of your humanity had gone a long time ago, you had not grown attached to Mike, you had no sympathy for him for this reason. Your world would carry on, even without him in it.

You turned around with a sigh, "Unless you can manage to fix this before tonight, I leave in two days."

Jasper's brows were furrowed and his head was tilted. You were strange in the emotions he had sensed from you. He found himself having a similar reaction to such events.

The others, however, seemed thoroughly shocked by your reaction. It took you a moment to realize why before you explained again, "Oh, yeah... I've been doing this four years, I lost most of my humanity when I was 17 and on my fifth time."

No one said anything about it, quickly changing the topic to figure out their plan of action. You sat next to Carlisle, tired out of your mind as you found yourself dozing off in the chair.

With your chair seated right next to Carlisle's, you had passed out from exhaustion and your head now rested on his shoulder as you pulled the cardigan close.

At some point, he gently woke you and offered a kind smile. You wiped at your face as you straightened up. "What happened?" you asked.

The others had left the room now, and it was just you and Carlisle. "I'll tell you after you get a shower and eat."

You nodded, "Shower's good. Food's good."

You took a long shower, letting the warm water soothe your body as you stood there for a long time under the liquid. When you got out, Alice lent clothes to you. You were surprised that they actually fit, she said she had gone and bought them a long time ago. She had seen you coming and took the initiative.

That was not creepy at all.

Your jacket was thoroughly washed and you were so happy to feel the soft fabric again, although you did really like Carlisle's cardigan. He let you keep it, and it made you happier than you thought it would.

Carlisle took you out to eat, letting you have whatever you wanted. You, however, did not want to eat as much. You had gotten so used to smaller meals.

Carlisle did everything in his power to make you comfortable, giving you a sampling of how life could be.

While you ate, he went over what he and his family had come up with. "I'll drop you off at the motel and talk to Camilla myself. The others will be waiting in the case of a fight, and if a fight does break out, I want you to get as far as you can until we can come and find you."

You frowned, giving him a concerned look, "Are you sure you'll okay?"

He gave a reassuring smile, his eyes soft and his smile kind, "There are six of us and two of them. We've dealt with worse. We'll be okay."

You sighed, nodded, and finished your food. When you got done, he paid for the meal and the two of you killed off time with a short trek through the woods.

With your broken ankle, Carlisle had to assist you, but you assured him you could walk on your own. You hated the godawful brace he had to put on you. It made you feel even more helpless than you already were.

Carlisle kept his arm securely around your waist as he walked with you, lifting you over fallen trees and carrying you over muddy areas or wide streams. When it was around time to return, you were reluctant but moved quickly.

You were terrified of returning and getting yourself into trouble. You doubted she would do anything to you before the dinner, you still had to look normal, but after was still just as terrifying.

The others followed in a truck, Emmett riding dramatically on top as Carlisle drove you to the motel. They did not go into the parking lot with you, hanging back as to not seemed suspicious.

As you rolled up to the motel—currently as one of its only residents, as the town was so small—Carlisle could sense your fear. He set his hand over yours and you jumped as you were pulled back from your thoughts.

"Sorry," he said quietly, trying not to be heard by Camilla. "Are you ready?" he asked.

You took a breath in and nodded, "Yeah." You opened the door and turned back to him, "Please be careful."

"I should say the same to you," he responded, "I'll be right behind you." You nodded as you began walking closer to the building. You let out a sigh as you took the key card out of your pocket and opened the door.

You saw Nathaniel sitting in front of the TV absently, his mind elsewhere as sound of a football game filled the motel room. Camilla did not look up from her spot with her head laid in Nathaniel's lap.

"Lucky you aren't late," she said. She suddenly sniffed the air and was in front of you in seconds. "What is that smell?"

You gave a terrified look as you said, "It's probably the clothes, the friend lent it to me."

"What 'friend'? You don't have friends," she demanded.

You tried to think of a name quickly, the name of a nobody that she would not get mad about. She hated Jessica, you could not say Jessica. Angela was the daughter of the pastor in Forks, she qualified as a celebrity because of that. Before you could think, you spat out, "Bella Swan."

Fuck! Bella was not a nobody, her father was a the chief. The whole town knew them both.

Camilla grabbed you by your shirt, lifting you to her face and just off the ground as she snarled. Nathaniel turned to see his wife's anger, amused by the scene as he watched. "Bella Swan? Daughter of the chief, Bella Swan? Why are you hanging out with celebrities?" Her eyes were dark with fury.

Fear drenched your features as she lifted her hand with clawed fingers. "No, please, please," you closed your eyes shut tight as you begged for Carlisle.

In that second, knocks came to the door and had everyone's heads turning quickly. Camilla dropped you, and you fell to the ground. You moved to stand as she got to the door but found that you could not balance yourself on your foot with your legs shaking from the terror that had just washed over you.

Camilla grabbed her sunglasses from beside the door and put them over her eyes. She turned the handle and the door opened. She put a smile on her face, putting on a sickly sweet voice to shield from her annoyance. "Doctor," she said, "to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Hello, Mrs. Samuel. Can we talk inside?" he asked politely.

Carlisle, with his vampiric sight, saw how she rolled her eyes behind the glasses before nodding with a smile and letting him inside.

"How can we help you?" she asked as Nathaniel stood to take her side. You managed to get yourself to the table, sitting down and lifting your leg to grasp your ankle.

"Are you alright?" he asked, gesturing to your ankle, although you knew what he was really asking. You nodded.

Camilla spoke again, "Oh, that darn ankles just been bothering her a little. Thank you so much for patching her up like you did."

"Of course," he said, "Although I am going to have to ask something of you."

She tilted her head but kept a sweet voice, "What is it, doctor?"

His smile was quickly gone, but his voice remained calm, "That you leave Forks."

Camilla's façade broke for just a moment before she laughed, removing her glasses, "I'm sorry, I don't think I understood you correctly." Her eyes darkened again, "You said to leave?"

"You heard me well," he told her, standing somewhat in front of you as protection.

Nathaniel laughed this time, "That's going to be a bit of an issue for us."

Carlisle offered a smile, "Allow me to help. There are your keys, there is the door, and there's the road. Simple as that."

Camilla let out a hiss as she charged toward him. Carlisle moved out of the way, dodging both her and Nathaniel before picking you up and carrying you away from the motel. Wind blew by you at alarming speeds as he ran the botb of you away from the motel with two angry vampires hot on your heels.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere open, luring them away from human sight," he said. "The others are behind us."

He managed to get the two of you far enough. He set you down somewhere far enough and waited for the two to reach him in no time. The rest of the Cullens showed up out of the trees and joined his side as Camilla and Nathaniel caught up.

They all formed defenses against each other as Carlisle spoke, "This is our town and we don't want you in it. You can leave or we can settle this here."

Nathaniel chuckled, "That's our human." The two sides clashed as the fight pursued. You made yourself as little as possible where you were trying to disappear.

You watched as Jasper, Rosalie, Emmett took on Nathaniel. Jasper fought with skill and experience, keeping Nathaniel from making any lethal blows that could be the end for either one of them. Emmett, however, fought with rite strength, which helped Jasper in areas where it was needed. Rosalie followed Jasper's lead, doing what he did the aid as she could.

You then turned to Camilla, who was up again Carlisle, Edward, and Alice. Edward moved even quicker than the other two. He was able to dodge her blows as she struggled on deciding who to fight. Alice, who looked ahead on each move, was able to counter well, throwing Camilla off effectively. Carlisle was who she was focused on, however, as she mirrored each of his moves.

But that seemed to be the point. Camilla found quickly that she would not be able to match Edward's speed or Alice's foresight, so she focused on Carlisle. Carlisle kept her focused on him so Edward and Alice could work better.

At some point, Camilla got fed up of the fight going on between them and locked eyes with you. Carlisle caught it and broke focus as his eyes turned to you, fear crossing his face at the thought of you getting hurt.

Camilla took his moment of distraction as her chance to shove him out of the way, distracting both Alice and Edward. Her eyes locked onto Nathaniel, who tripped up Rosalie. Emmett's eyes locked on her as he tried to make sure she was okay. Jasper was quickly distracted as he saw Alice be shoved to the ground.

Nathaniel got down to grab Carlisle, his eyes murderous and crazed. Camilla turned to you with every intention of killing you and you backed up in a panic. As Camilla's back was turned, everyone jumped on Nathaniel. Alice wrapped her legs around his neck, her hands grasping either side of his head as she began to pull hard.

Emmett's strong arms wrapped around his body to keep him from breaking free. Alice managed to pull his head from his body, catching the attention of Camilla as she turned with wide eyes.

A flicker of a flame appeared and she let out an angry snarl before turning to you. She was in front of you in seconds, gripping you by your shirt as she lifted you. You cried out when she sunk her teeth into your neck harshly.

You fought against her as she began to drain you of blood. But you were suddenly dropped to the ground when Camilla was grabbed and thrown away from you. Carlisle was before you in no time, taking you into his arms as he examined you quickly. The others took on Camilla.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pressing his hand against your blood that burned his throat. You made yourself breathe as you nodded, "Yeah... I'm good..."

The gut-wrenching sound of nails on a chalkboard was heard before the roaring flames of a building fire. You managed to look and see a large fire building as Camilla and Nathaniel's bodies were burned.

You laid your head back down and let out a long sigh, your eyes closing. Slowly, a smile spread over your lips, "It's over."

Carlisle was too focused on trying to stop your bleeding to see the smile on your face. "It's finally over," you breathed, a tear falling from your eyes.

It wasn't long before you were passing out in Carlisle's arms.

~

When you slowly came back to consciousness, you were confused as you went to rub your eyes. You took in a deep breath, moving to sit up. When you opened your eyes again, that same panic from before filled you as you stumbled back. Your breath quickened and your heart pounded in your chest.

"Hey, hey, hey," a voice said. Hands reached out to you, settling down on your arm and your leg gently as he told you in soft tones, "Calm down. It's just me."

Realization finally sunk in as you saw Carlisle. You let out a long breath, a hand over your heart as you looked around.

"What happened? Is everyone okay? Where's Camilla?" you said in a rush of words, your eyes never settling on one thing as a million questions ran through your head.

Carlisle settled these thoughts with three words. "Everything is alright," he told you, his hands cupping your face, careful not to touch the large patch on the side of your neck.

You calmed, jumping forward as you wrapped your arms around him. Fresh tears fell onto your cheeks as you breathed in his scent, relief and jubilation filling you as you whispered, "It's over?"

He nodded, holding you closely and carefully, "It's over." You sat back after a moment, missing the strange warmth he provided you, despite his freezing skin.

It was finally over. You were finally free of the monsters who kept you captive for so long.

With your hands grasping each side of his neck, you gave him a large smile, one that filled his soul with utter contentment. You leaned forward and crashed your lips upon his.

The world stopped, letting you both live out this moment for however long you pleased as you let it consume you in utter happiness. When you finally pulled back, time not quite ready to start again yet, you wiped away your tears and set your forehead against his. He pressed a long kiss to your forehead and you whispered to him.

"Thank you."

~~~~~

Dr. Cullen taglist:  @folkeverandalways​ @lukas-is-writting​ and anyone else who wants to be tagged!

[astaroth1357]

I don’t know if this’ll make the cut, but brothers with an MC wearing their (the brothers) clothes, and I’m talking full ensemble not just a random jacket or accessory (you can delete if you’re not comfortable of course)

So when left with the question of whether this was a full on clothing theft or a cosplay of some kind, I'm going with theft because that's just funnier to me. Just a little MC marching around in Beel's tent of an outfit… Hilarious. 🤭

MC Steals the Brothers’ Outfits

Lucifer 

It started out like any other morning, Lucifer woke up early in bed - as he always does - but when he rolled onto his side to stir the MC, he found their side of the bed empty… 

Normally, he’d have thrown up the alarm in an instant, but his mind was still groggy as he tried to recall what happened the night before… He could have sworn the MC slept over… unless…

MC: “Good morning, love.”

Their voice was enough to get him sitting up again and he uh… well he was not prepared for what he saw. The MC was sitting with their legs crossed at his desk, attempting to imitate his “I’m-in-Complete-Control-Here” energy as much as they possibly could, but with an added detail…

They were wearing his clothes. His favorite suit to be specific which was tailored to his much bigger frame, resulting in a frankly ridiculously ill-fitting look on their smaller human body...

MC: *picks up a poisoned apple off the desk, continuing their very best Lucifer-impression*  “You should get up, love. We have an early meeting today and we can’t keep Lord Diavolo waiting.”

The MC appeared to polish the apple with his sleeve for a moment before taking a bite, looking pleased with themselves before their eyes widened in complete horror. It only took a split second for them to spit the unchewed hunk of apple into a nearby waste basket and toss the apple away in panic.

MC: “Ah FUCK!! I forgot I can’t eat these!!! SHIT!!”

Their panic only grew as Lucifer could no longer hold in his laughter, the booming volume of which is enough to wake up all his brothers throughout the House.

MC: “Lucifer, don’t just sit there laughing!! Bring me some water or something!!! LUCIFER!!!”

Mammon

Look, Mammon always gets up late so not being able to find, like, any of his normal clothes was a serious problem! He’d already dug through half his closest and still couldn’t find anything!!

He had a photoshoot that he had to get to in less than hour and he still needed to take a shower, get dressed, get his stuff together, then bolt halfway across town before-

MC: *literally kicks open his door Kuzco-style* “Yo, yo, yo!! What’s up, Mammon??”

First off, the sudden loud bang of his door hitting the wall nearly scared him out of his skin, but before he could even yell at the MC for their weird entrance his brain had to process what they were wearing….

Good news! He found his missing clothes, the MC had thrown them on while he was sleeping - sunglasses and all - and now stood before him with a toothy grin on their face.

MC: “What's the problem, Mams? Lucifer got your tongu-EEEK!”

Apparently, they weren't expecting Mammon to literally lunge at them and capture them in a tight hug, practically lifting them off their feet with a laugh.

Mammon: “What'cha think your doin', MC?? I'm gonna need those back ya know?”

MC: *laughs loud and bright, throwing their arms around his neck* “I know, I know... But I wanted to surprise you!” *stops laughing suddenly and blinks* “Huh…”

Mammon watched the MC experimentally lift his glasses off their nose then put them back down, repeating the action several times before snickering.

Mammon: *frowns* “What's so funny?”

MC: “Nothing really but… Mammon, do you wear these just to make everything look like gold?”

Mammon actually had to pause before responding, pulling the MC closer with a devilish grin.

Mammon: “Nah… I ‘cause got all the gold I need right here~”

MC: *chuckles and nuzzles his cheek* “Nice save...”

Mammon: *his cheeks flush and he frowns* “I dunno what your talkin’ about... But could ya go put on a t-shirt or somethin’? They’re paying me big for this shoot and I really gotta go!”

Leviathan 

Another convention, another cosplay far too complex to ever hope to peel out of… Though Levi would never regret wearing his five piece Lord of Shadow cosplay, it’s a heavy thing and certainly not something he can change out of in a bathroom stall…

When he finally got back to the House, he wasn’t looking to do anything but drag his tired body back to his room and change into some more manageable clothes… but… well…

When Levi opened his door, he saw the MC sitting alone at his computer desk playing a game by themselves. That was all well and good but… WHY IN DIAVOLO��S BLACK HELL ARE THEY WEARING HIS CLOTHES???

When they heard the door, the MC whipped their head back and they both stared at each other in an awkward silence… His clothes didn’t even fit them right!-or maybe they did?? His mind was panicking because they had the collar of his shirt covering their mouth and it looked so moe it was actually ridiculous!

Levi: ……….

MC: ………….

MC: …. “I can explain.”

Levi: ……. “Y-yea?”

MC: “I was having trouble on this one level and you wouldn’t pick up the phone… so I thought ‘What would Levi do?’... and it escalated…”

Levi: “You think??”

Levi felt like he could die right there, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it was from embarrassment or happiness… On the one hand, the MC was  literally trying to be him in order to get better at video games - which was flatteringly adorable… And on the other, the MC is pretty much cosplaying as him, right in front of him… and looked so damn cute doing it too… 

MC: “Is this weird…? This is weird. I’m sorry, I’ll go change-”

Levi: NO-agh! *he throws a hand over his own mouth, surprised by how loud he just shouted* … “U-uh… no it’s fine…”

MC: “Okay...?”

MC: “But could you put your phone down? I think you’ve been taking pictures for the past two minutes…”

Levi looked down at his hand and sure enough he unconsciously pulled out his phone in camera mode and has been spamming the “Capture” button long enough to have his thumb cramping...

Levi: “Oh.” *stops for a moment, then seems to second guess himself*

Levi: “Uh… just one more?”

Satan

When you share a house with Mammon, you grow accustomed to not being able to find things from time to time, but an entire outfit?? 

When he woke up one morning to find that he couldn't find any of his normal clothes, he blamed Mammon right off the bat… 

I guess in hindsight, what would Mammon want with his jacket? But anger doesn't always jump to the most rational conclusion, you know?

After searching for "long enough," Satan stormed out of his bedroom on a warpath. He didn't stop his march until he was banging on Mammon’s door with a closed fist!

Satan: “Mammon!! What did you do with my clothes you useless, money-grubbing asshole!?”

When he didn’t get a reply, likely because Mammon was hiding in his closet or something, he was about to kick the door in when he felt a tap on his shoulder...

When he turned his head, much to his surprise, he found his missing clothes!... They were on the MC - right down to the single sleeve - and the MC met his eyes with a mischievous grin…

They had a book in their hands he recalled seeing once at the library: "101 Ways to Prank Your Partner," open like they'd been reading down the hallway.

MC: … Page 47.

They winked at him before bolting back down the hallway in a fit of giggles and oooh, it was on now.

Satan spent the morning chasing the MC through the House, both laughing and dashing around in reckless abandon. He really needed his clothes back and he wouldn’t mind an extra hour or two with the MC when he got them… 😏

Asmodeus 

Asmo isn’t exactly a morning person… Though he forces himself awake so he can perform his wake-up routine, by the time he comes to the table it’s a hit-or-miss on how irritable he’s going to be...

Of course, his favorite outfit suddenly disappearing from his massive closet did not help his mood in the slightest!

Who would take his clothes?? Well, that’s not even a question - surely plenty of his devoted, adoring stans would kill to even have his scarf, so maybe the better question was, “How??” Lucifer keeps all the doors and windows magically sealed at night! (He would know, having been locked out on numerous occasions)

Asmo was tearing through his closet, wracking his brain for any place he might have left his beloved outfit, before he heard someone clear their throat by his bedroom door.

What greeted him was a lovely look at the MC wearing the missing clothing in question, even with all the grace and style he would himself!

Asmo: *jaw-drops* “MC???”

MC: *smirks at his delight and winks at him* “Looking for something?”

They strutted into the room with the confidence of a mock fashion model and took a silly vogue pose in front of the closet, barely holding in a fit of laughter from their actions.

MC: “… Or just at me?”

Asmo, of course, snatched them right up in his arms with a delighted squeal.

Asmo: “Oh. My. Diavolo!! MC, you look just gorgeous!!!- Because you look like me, of course.” 🤭

MC: *laughs and cups his cheeks to pull him closer* “Who wouldn't want to be you, Asmo?”

Asmo: “So true… But you’re already perfect, my love~” 😘

And he went on to prove that to them all morning long...

Beelzebub 

Beel didn't even get the chance to notice his clothes were missing. He had a tournament the night before and was sleeping even harder than Belphie that morning...

What woke him up was the smell of food: scrambled shadowhawk eggs, hellboar bacon, pancakes with nightshade syrup…. 

Beel's stomach had him sitting up long before his eyes ever opened, drawn in by his nose alone.

MC: “Beeeeel. Wake up!”

Beel's eyes dragged open at their request and what he found had his mouth watering... The MC had brought him a dining cart with a complete breakfast spread, brimming with portions only Beel could ever finish, but for once he wasn’t looking at the food.

The MC, for whatever reason, had decided to put on his clothes… And keep in mind that Beel's built like an ox compared to almost anybody. They were absolutely swimming under all that fabric (thank the Devil for his suspenders…) 

MC: “Congratulations!!!”

They throw their arms up excitedly, making the unzipped jacket balloon out like a parachute behind them… It's a remarkably cute image.

Beel: *blinks* “Oh.” *he gets a little pink, still very confused* “What did I do exactly…?”

MC: “You won the championship last night, remember? Or did you forget already??”

The MC takes a step to the side and begins pointing at the plates on the cart.

MC: “I thought we'd celebrate with some breakfast! I brought you eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, cereal-”

As they continued their list, Beel's hand naturally reached out towards the cart eagerly, before something finally clicked in his head. WHY were they wearing his clothes??

Beel: “Wait. MC, why are you wearing-...?”

MC *holds their hand up* “Hold on!”

MC: “-oatmeal, muffins, banana bread, annnd…” *they get onto the bed and plop down onto his lap with a grin*

MC: “Me! Congratulations, Beel!!”

They lean up to peck his cheek while his arms automatically wind around their waist. The combination of their scents already bringing out a different sort of hunger in him…

Let’s say if this is his reward, he'll never lose a game again. 😏

Belphegor 

Belphie was in the middle of his afterschool nap in the library. The day was exhausting, so he didn’t even bother changing uniforms… The couches there were comfortable and the space was quiet, really nothing should have woken him up...

But somehow, for whatever reason, something did. A tug… Something was chasing away his dreams by tugging on the cow pillow in his arms.

MC: “Beeelllppphie….”

The tugging did not cease and he half growled in response, still keeping his eyes firmly closed.

Belphie: “What now...?”

MC: “I need this…” *they tug on the corner of the pillow a little harder* “Can you let go please…?”

What kind of question is that?? No one takes away his favorite pillow!

Belphie: *hugs the pillow tighter* “Go away, I'm trying to nap…”

MC: “Noooo please…! I need it for something right now…!!”

They started really pulling on his pillow now and he only held on tighter in annoyance. Since they wouldn’t leave him alone, he finally opened his eyes.

Belphie: “MC! Why are… you..?”

His voice trailed off as he finally saw the MC standing there in his usual outfit. His cardigan was so long over their arms that they had to grasp his pillow through its sleeves...

While his drowsy mind tried to catch up, the MC snatched the pillow from his grasp with one swift yank.

MC: *grins* “Mine now!”

They turned to bolt out of the library, but Belphie snatched them by the waist and dragged them back to the couch with him.

Belphie: “Fine, but then I get a new pillow.” 😏

The MC yelped as he flopped on top of them, pulling them close like a body pillow and resting his head into the crook of their neck to enjoy the soothing smell of their scent mixed with his.

MC: “W-wait Belphie…!” *tries to wiggle out from under his surprisingly heavy deadweight* “I was just playing around…! Please don't fall asleep on me!!”

Belphie: *yawns and settles in, already drifting off* “Too late… G'night, MC…”

MC: “Belphie!!!” 😫

They could complain all they liked, he wasn’t going to let them go for a few hours. Cute or not, MC, nobody takes his pillow!

[chelleztjs18]

Lost in Assistance - Ch. 4

Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader

GIF: I do not own this GIF. Found it on gifimage.net

Summary: Y/n is a professional celebrity's personal assistant in Hollywood got hired with two years contract to be the assistant of the famous and talented Elizabeth Olsen / Lizzie by her manager. Both Y/n and Lizzie hate each other since day one, and they have mutual friend. One is as stubborn as the other, will Y/n stay when Lizzie gives attitudes and tries her best to make her quit before the contract ends?

Warning: fluff, angst, smut (in future chapters), swearing words ( +18 only)

All chapters

Today is Wednesday but not just a regular Wednesday. It’s the day of the meeting with Elizabeth Olsen and her manager, Jane Vernon.

Your phone alarm sounds break the silence in your room slowly but sure it gets louder enough to motivate you to start the day. You woke up with mixed feelings. Excited yet nervous at the same time. You turn on some music. Sunset Lover - Petit Biscuit starts to play and you get ready. After a fresh shower, you put on just enough nude color makeup then you go to your walk-in closet to pick a close-fitting button up white shirt with burgundy stripes and black slim fit women's suit and trousers with burgundy open toe high heels that match with your nails color since it’s your favorite color. You get your side parted wavy medium length burgundy colored hair done that makes it flow down to your shoulder. You may be the type of girl who doesn’t really like to put on much makeup, but you take your hair, clothings and nails pretty seriously as well as your perfume.

As soon as you are all ready and putting your heels on while sitting on a little sofa in the middle of your closet, your phone rings. You guessed that it’s Mitchel and you are right. 

“Good morning darling.” You answered as you continued to put on your shoes. “Oh wow, that's the spirit! Good morning love! Are you excited for today? Are you ready?” said Mitchel on the other end. “Well, yeah but no but also yeah that I’m all ready to go.” You replied while you took another look in front of the mirror and slowly twirled to make sure you looked good. Then you spray a little bit of perfume and you are ready to go downstairs while still on the phone. “Okay great. I will see you over there, I want to say hi to Jane. Everything will be okay. Don't be nervous, okay Y/n?” Mitchel tried to make you feel better. “Thank you Mitchel. I appreciate it. I’m leaving soon so I’ll see you there. Bye.” You grab your medium size leather purse and go downstairs.

As usual, your mom is already awake, sitting on the big living room couch. “Morning Ma. I have a meeting this morning. It shouldn’t be that long but you know Mitchel, he might want to have brunch after that but just call me if you need anything, okay? Love you Ma.” You gave her a hug and went to the garage. “Okay hun. Good luck. Love you too.”

You put on your prescription aviator style sunglasses, blast some music to amp you up started by White Lies - Odesza then start driving. The sun was up but not too bright, the traffic wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be so you arrived there a little too early. 

As you walked into the lobby you saw a coffee shop so you decided to get some ice coffee for you. Just when your order is ready and you are about to grab it, you notice a familiar face whose order is ready too. It was Lizzie grabbing her order. Eye contact was caught between you two and you gave a smile just to be friendly and she replied with a nod and small smile. You recognize her even though her long dirty blonde hair flawlessly covers both sides of her face and she is wearing sunglasses that were intended to cover her face so she won’t be recognized. You both walk towards the elevator and blend in with a group of people in the elevator. You saw her pressed the floor button then she dived back into whatever she was doing with her phone. The elevator stopped on your floor, some people went out to go to other offices which are on the same floor as Vernon’s office. Lizzie went out as well but she stopped in front of the elevator to answer a phone call so she didn’t know that you both actually have the same destination to meet Jane.

After you greeted and talked to Aaron, Jane’s assistant, he informed you to wait in the waiting room. Few minutes later, you heard that Lizzie came in and was told the same thing as you were. She is sitting on the chair across you talking on the phone with her best friend about the plan to meet up after the meeting, while you are browsing on your phone and enjoying your ice coffee you can feel that sometimes she takes a quick glance once or twice at you without knowing who you are and why you are there. 

“I don’t even wanna be here. I still think it’s a stupid idea to get me another personal assistant. This already made me upset to begin with and it’s just gonna make me not like this person already even though I know it’s not her fault to get hired by Jane.” She tried to talk as quietly as possible but not quite enough for you not to be able to hear it. Aaron came and told her that she can come into the meeting room. “I gotta go, I’ll see you later after the meeting. Bye.”

She hangs up then proceeds to follow Aaron to the meeting room. After what you heard, you can only chuckle to yourself knowing this is not gonna be easy work between you both. Aaron comes for your turn. “Ms. Y/l/n, they are ready for you. You can come this way.” Aaron guides you to the meeting room. You smiled and thanked him as he opened the door for you.

You come into the meeting room that has large windows around it that give natural light and a pretty sky view decorated with clouds and top of skyscrapers of L.A with the trails of the streets and cars that look so small from up here. You see Lizzie is sitting next to Jane with Mitchel sitting in front of them, parted by a big rectangle glass table. 

“Y/n darling! You made it!” Mitchel came to you and gave you a cheek to cheek kiss as always. “Hi Mitch. I’m glad to be here.” You smiled.

“Come, let me introduce you to these fabulous ladies. Jane, Lizzie this is Y/n Y/l/n. She is my best friend slash the best personal assistant you are looking for. Y/n, this is Elizabeth Olsen and her manager Jane Vernon.” Mitch proudly introduces you to them. 

“Nice to meet you Y/n, Mitch talked a lot about you once he knew I was looking for a professional assistant. I hope you don't mind me calling you by your first name.” While Jane offered her hand for a friendly handshake yet felt so formal, you can see from the corner of your eyes Lizzie’s jaw dropped a little, looking at you up and down realizing you might have heard what she said on the phone earlier about you. “The pleasure is mine Mrs. Vernon and yeah I don't mind you calling me by my first name” You gave a firm professional handshake and smiled. “You can call me Jane.”

You then slightly turn your head to Lizzie and her beautiful green eyes are now so easily noticeable by you without her sunglasses on. “Ms. Olsen, It’s nice to meet you.” You smiled and tried to stay professional even though you know how she feels about this meeting and about you. There is an awkward vibe from Lizzie towards you since she thinks you heard her conversation but her stubbornness about this whole thing is bigger than the awkwardness itself that made the friendly Lizzie respond a little cold to you. “Thanks, same here.” She gave you a quick handshake but you can feel the softness of her skin even though just for a few seconds.

The four of you take a seat. “So Y/n, this is not an interview because practically you are already hired because I read your resume plus the reference from Mitch here. I gotta admit, it’s pretty impressive. Lots of years of experience working in this field, you have worked with big names in Hollywood. You speak five languages and that’s another big plus. We have this meeting just so we can sign the contract and agreement. I believe Mitch already gave you the details of Do’s and Don'ts and our expectation specially from Lizzie here.” Jane explained while she was looking at your resume then slid some papers in front of you on the table for you to take a look at it.

“Well, to be honest what I wanted was actually simple, I don’t want any new personal assistant but Jane insisted on giving it a try, so here I am. So, I hope you are as great as your resume Y/n to make my try worth it.” Lizzie said it in a quite firm tone with the best pretend smile she can do. Deep down she hoped what she just said would’ve just made you change your mind.

“Ha Ha Lizzie was just joking. Isn’t she funny?” Jane laughed awkwardly and tried to give Lizzie a look about what she said. 

“Is that so, Ms.Olsen? Don’t you worry about it. I hope the way I work and the way I do my job suits you.” You gazed at her eyes before you gave a fake smile. You tried to remind yourself in your mind that you respect Mitch and don’t want to put him in a hard time with his client even though Jane is a good friend of his otherwise your reaction would be different.

“This is the contract, it will be only for two years but it might be for less than that. If it does change to less than two years, there will be a notice in advance. It can also be terminated early if there is a mutual decision by both parties. All of this is written in it. It says you acknowledged and  agreed with what I just informed you. You can sign on every section that’s marked X” Jane explained all the details while she showed each point. You read everything, gazed at Lizzie’s mesmerizing green eyes and gave a little smirk to her then signed each section. As you can see, this clearly upset Lizzie.

“Okay, everything is good. In this envelope, there are all Lizzie’s schedules, addresses and numbers. Plus all lists what she likes and dislikes. Sometimes you need to drive with her, sometimes you don't have to. I’m sure you know the drill, but just a friendly reminder that everything is confidential, especially all Marvel related. You can start on Friday. I guessed that’s all. Welcome to our family Y/n. We are thrilled that you joined us here, right Lizzie?” Jane finalized everything with another handshake with you and Mitchel. “Yeah, sure. Now if you guys excuse me, I gotta go right now. Sorry.” Lizzie put a tiny smile in the corner of her lips, waved goodbye then left in a rush and looked upset.”

As soon as Lizzie left and the door was closed, Jane apologized. “Ummm, Mitchel, Y/n I’m truly sorry for how Lizzie acted earlier. Trust me, she is actually a very sweet, genuine and friendly person. That’s the reason I have been her manager and agent for years, she’s like a sister to me. It’s just that she sometimes can be very determined or stubborn with what she wants or what she doesn't want and not afraid to show it but I’m sure she will slowly understand why I need to have Y/n’s help. She just has anxiety when she has to adjust or deal with new people. I hope you guys can understand.”

“Don’t worry about that Jane. I have met Lizzie and I know how sweet she is. Like I told you before, Y/n has her own way of working and don't be surprised with how straight forward she is plus she doesn't sugar coat things. She is eccentric in a good way. Right Y/n?” He nudged your arm and smiled.

“Haha. yeah sure Mitch.” You answered jokingly. “I guess we better get going. Thank you Jane. Nice seeing you as always.” You and Mitch bid farewell to Jane and left. “Bye guys. See you again.” Jane walked back to her office room.

“Mitchel, what the hell was that? Why did she act like that? On top of all, why didn’t you tell me that she actually didn’t want an assistant?!” You tried to whisper so nobody at the office heard as you both were walking out of the office.

“Yeah about that, I forgot to tell you. I’m sorry. “ Mitch squinted his eyes waiting because he was worried how your reaction was gonna be.

“You are lucky we are best friends otherwise I wouldn’t sign that contract and would’ve said NO on the spot after what she said. I already don’t like her. This is not gonna be easy.” You said it jokingly but it has a little bit of truth in it.

“Haha. I love you too!” Mitch replied happily, knowing you would help him no matter what. Both of you parted, continue with your days.

Ch. 5

[annieharkness]

Glimpses: Part 9 (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 // previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter 

Summary: Are you... finally having a date?

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Hey y’all! Again, I apologize for the delay but uni didn’t allow for me to have some free time to write. I’ll try to upload something earlier next week and hope you enjoy the new chapter until then! xxx

_____________________________________________________________________________

“Wish I could've seen your beautiful face on my screen tonight, sweetheart.“ You stare at your phone. Is she… flirting? By now it’s too late, so you can’t ask Alex for help since she is already sound asleep on her side of the world. You ruffle your hair and let your head fall to the back to look at the ceiling. Taking in a deep breath, you close your eyes and consider your options. Tonight, it’s only you, your phone and Kathryn. 

Unsure of what to do, you opt for the safer way and start a conversation rather than flirt with her right away, because honestly, you don’t even know what to do. “You know, we all actually hoped you guys would be able to see us, too.“

You are not sure if you blew it with that, but then again it’s not like you and Kathryn haven’t talked about things the fans think before, not that you are not one of them, but that’s a different story. She takes a while to respond and you throw your phone on the bed before lying down on your back.

Looking up at the stars on your ceiling, you reflect on what happened within the last week until your phone lights up again. You lie there for a short while waiting for Kathryn to respond and think about what plans you have for the rest of the week. You train of thought gets stopped when your phone lights up. You turn to your side to look at it and realize it lit up, yes, but this time there is no new message. Instead, additionally to lighting up, your phone starts to vibrate as hold it in your hand - a familiar face looking right at you. Yours. She is calling you. KATHRYN. On Facetime. 

Shocked as you are, you throw your phone across the room and as you try to catch it you hit it again, which only makes it fly further away. You immediately jump after it and fall from your bed in the process, taking a tumble before rolling off on the floor. Typical you and you would roll your eyes at yourself right now, if only you weren’t so busy reaching out for your phone.

For a moment, you think about how you could’ve hit your head pretty hard just a second ago, but somehow your body went into god mode and you managed to roll off pretty quickly. Phone in hand you are lying on the floor, all sprawled out as the time runs out to pick up the call. Gladly, you remember you should and take it as you still lie on the floor.

“Kathryn?“, you try to catch your breath. “Sweetheart, HEY!“, you catch a glimpse of her as you’re getting up to sit on your chair and hear her laugh. “What exactly are you doing, Y/N? You look… You are a mess, honey! WHAT HAPPENED?“

You immediately stop in your motion and look at her while running a hand through your hair trying to look more presentable. “I…“, you stutter. “I… I.. My phone… Floor. I had to… It’s…“

“Sweetheart you gotta take a breath for me now.“, she looks at you concerned.

“Yes, thank you Kathryn, yes. Hello there! I’m sorry. I might’ve hit my head actually. I’m not sure.“ She smiles once again while she is looking at you with her warm, blue eyes, as she gives you another minute to calm down after you ramble. “Well, I’m glad I get to see you now. I hate those one sided video things, especially since I’ve missed your face.“ She winks.

“You saw me like… 5 days ago. You’ll live.“ You can’t help but laugh at her antics once again and the both of you sit in comfortable silence for a moment until she breaks it. “Anyway, I am calling because I wanted to know if you will come and spend some time in my garden again this weekend.“ The words leave her mouth and you hear her but your brain seems unable to comprehend what is being said. How can this be your life right now?

While you are caught up in your thoughts Kathryn continues talking. “I promise this time we’ll stay at my place. No surprise gigs or anything to attend. Just the gals hanging out.“ You want to ask her if this is a date, you really do, but you can’t get yourself to be bold like that. Instead you just shoot her a wide smile as she waits for your answer and nod. “Yes! Absolutely! I mean… We never got to finish that bottle of wine we opened, so…“

Now it’s her turn to nod and you both fall silent again. Even though you are fully comfortable sitting in silence and just spending time with her in real life, it feels different on Facetime. Kathryn seems to notice rather quickly and breaks the silence again.

“Well, Sweetheart. I’ll let you go because I’m sure you’ve got other things to do. I will send you details for the weekend as soon as I know what my schedule looks like and then I’ll have Peter pick you up again?“

“That sounds amazing!…“ And you should've stopped there but at the same time you feel  a little adventurous, so you throw a common phrase in there that Alex uses any chance she gets. Realizing you could always say you don’t mean it that way makes it even easier - after all Kathryn doesn’t know you actually do. “It’s a date!“

Her smile turns into a wide grin. “It’s a date. I’ll see you on Saturday then.“

“Not if I see you first.“

—

You don’t see her first. Kathryn would never admit it, but she is in fact very nervous and paces up and down the house waiting for you. She fully cleaned all of it last night already, knowing that you would come over today. 

When she hears Peter and you arrive with the car, she walks up to the front door immediately and opens it right as you exit the car. You're wearing a flow-y summer dress again and your hair falls your shoulders in beautiful curls. A pair of sunglasses is propped up on top of your head and she can see you squinting your eyes against the sun.

Kathryn is leaning against the door frame as Peter sees you off and the two of you laugh about a dad joke he makes. She likes how you get along with everyone around her so well and her heart skips a beat as you turn around and your eyes meet. She is beautiful. A dark green pantsuit, that Kathryn combined with a white shirt (including the rolled up sleeves, of course), is hanging loosely off her shoulder. Her hair is in its usual curly mess and slowly moves in the wind as a fresh breeze hits her face.

Faster than anticipated you make your way up to her and wrap her up into a hug that, according to your consideration, is a little bit longer than a usual hug. She holds onto you just as tight and her hand wanders up to the back of your neck. When you finally let go of earth other you forget to put distance between your bodies again, so you find yourself just a couple inches away from her face once again.

“You look… stunning.“ She says as her hand softly pushes back a strand of hair behind your right ear.

“THANK YOU!“, you say in a high pitched voice as your eyes widen because of how embarrassing that voice raise was. “You look beautiful as always yourself, Kathryn.“

The smile on her face tells you that the compliment is sitting very well with her and you decide to keep a bit of the mystery, so you brush against her as you walk inside the house and make your way to the door thats leading to the garden.

Stunned, Kathryn stays in the doorframe for a moment before following you out onto the patio. She reaches you before you can reach the seating area because you purposefully strolled a little and appreciated the beauty of her backyard.

“I love your dress! That color and fit is just… you look beautiful, Y/N.“ You blush and it doesn’t go unnoticed by her as she has just caught up to you. The two of you have reached the couch and she offers you to sit first and makes sure you have a drink and everything you need before she makes herself comfortable. Just like last time, she sits down across from you first, keeping the mystery and all. 

The Kathryn you get to meet now is not that much different from the Kathryn you met within the last two weeks. She is funny and open and, if anything has changed, then it is the fact that she is much more relaxed without all the other people around.

As she tells you about her latest interview fails and gives you inside on her life, you can’t help but fall for her a little more, especially whenever she throws her head back as she laughs wholeheartedly. 

When it’s your turn to tell stories, you tell her about your childhood hobbies and how does might effect your future. She is very interested in arts and you immediately agree to meet up again to create something together. Talking about how you spend your free time, you finally mention Alex and talk about how fast she became your best friend. Just as always, she makes you feel like you are the most important person on the planet as you talk and somehow you feel like Alex becomes important to her as well, the moment you talk about how important she is to you.

With every glass she pours, Kathryn scooches a little closer to you until your knees nearly touch. Whenever you laugh about a joke, she reaches out to put her right hand on your leg and as you finish the first bottle of wine and she decides to order pizza as the sun starts to set, she plops down right next to you after getting the menu off the kitchen table.

Being fully comfortable with her now, you let yourself sink into her shoulder as the two of you browse the pizza names to see what you want to order. Luckily, you make a decision rather quickly while Kathryn needs some time, so you can enjoy the moment of closeness for a little while longer.

For the very first time, you realize how good her hair smells and how calming her aura is. You close your eyes to take it all in and smile to yourself about the sheer happiness that you are feeling in this very moment. 

Kathryn notices how calm you have gotten and leans back as her left arm sneakily finds its way across your shoulder to hold you close to her. Leaning back into the couch, she pulls you with her and the both of you sit in silence as you listen to her heartbeat. 

After a while, you hear a deep growl and Kathryn gets startled out of her meditational state. “Oh I’m sorry! I must be hungrier than I thought I am.“

She takes out her arm from behind you again and reaches for the menu and her phone to call the delivery service. When the pizza arrives and she comes back from the front door, she sits down on the other side of the couch once again and you immediately miss being by her side.

The pizza is nice, maybe even the best pizza you’ve had from any delivery service before, and by the time you finished eating, the sun has fully set. Not sure how she is going to react, you fiddle with your fingers for a moment before making a proposal.

“I.. actually arranged something. I looked up Peter’s agency and asked for his number and asked him if he could take us somewhere tonight. I mean.. If you’d wanna go?“

Once again speechless, Kathryn looks at you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows as her face is beaming from excitement. “Absolutely! Do we… need anything or are we good to go right away?“ It’s nice that she wants to help, but she doesn’t have to. Alex and you have planned for this very moment all week and talked it all through several times, so that Peter and you could arrange the surprise for Kathryn.

You help her up from the couch and lead her back into the house, where a filled basket, that has magically appeared, is waiting at the front door. Peter is already waiting in the car ready to take you to the stars.

It’s a rather short drive as he takes you to a little meadow on a hill where you can look over Los Angeles in between rocks and trees and actually see the stars as well. Naturally, he stays in the car and ready a book as the two of you walk up to the corner of the hill, where a small spot suggests that lots of couples have spent some time there. 

“This is perfect, Y/N. I….“ She looks at you before looking up at the night sky and stops talking as she feels your eyes on her. Your fingers on the blanket are close enough to hers that you can feel her warmth and you slowly move them closer. Neither of you breaks eye contact as your hands touch and a tingles move through all of your body.

You bite the inside of your lower lip in anticipation as you cup her hand with yours completely. Giving it one last squeeze, you let go and cup her face instead. Slowly, you move closer until you can feel her breath on your lips. Looking into her eyes for one last time, you overcome the remaining inches and capture her lips in a longing kiss as your hands find their way into her long hair.

Leaning into the kiss with a little too much force, combined with the fact that she is so focused on the way you make her feel, makes her lose balance and she falls backwards onto the blanket. Before you can do anything about it, you find yourself on top of Kathryn who is grinning and goes in for yet another kiss. Now she is the one who is holding onto you and her hands glide all over your body as she takes no measures to get you off of her.

You make out with her in that position for a short moment, before she stops in her tracks. “We can’t. Not like that. Not out here. I’m sorry, Sweetheart.“

“Oh no, don’t be sorry. You are absolutely right.“ You smile and kiss her shortly for one last time before getting off of her. “Let’s go back home? It’s getting rather cold anyway.“

“Home? Are you… Staying over tonight?“ She looks at you, unsure of what to expect.

For a moment you consider if you should play it save, but thinking about everything that happened tonight, you decide to go into full offense and shoot your shot while you wink at her. “Well, Ms. Hahn. Seems like you are asking me to stay, so I might as well.“

She looks at you and you can tell she is biting her lip before she looks back at the lights in front of her as she grabs your hand. “Please stay, Y/N. I would love that.“

[trivialbob]

We haven’t had a Christmas tree since about the time the last kid left home. I haven’t felt less Christmassy. We’ve still had some decorations around the house in recent years. There are strings of white lights on the outside of the house. Like after my sixth beer, I probably don’t need any more :)

This year the white lights are still on the house. Inside decorating is stockings and some small ornaments on the mantle.

In today’s mail delivery my dad’s Christmas letter arrived. It’s always something I look forward to. See, the Christmas spirit is alive and well in me.

At the moment it’s snowing heavily. This invariably elevates my mood from good to very good.

Sheila and I went to order new glasses today. The vision plan allows a big discount annually, which we had not yet used this year. Sheila wants prescription sunglasses too. We timed it so we get regular glasses this week, her shades right after the first of the year with the new benefits are in effect.

A technician asked what we needed help with. Our recent prescriptions were on file so we just needed to pick frames. I started to tell him how my neck is killing me when I work. It’s from trying to read too much through the bottom of my progressive lenses. My computer monitors are not positioned for that. The technician laughed because he’s heard it before. Great, I am not the only one! I ended up ordering prescription lenses designed for working at computer monitors. My neck will thank me soon. My old glasses are still fine for reading books and driving.

Look what I found for dinner! After the eye clinic visit we stopped by a nearby grocery store for a few things Sheila needed for her big baking day with Jack on Sunday. Tator tot hotdish on a snowy evening. Fantastic. It will be enhanced when I add more Ore-Ida tots that I have on hand (they’re the extra crunch version).

[kyotakumrau]

2021.02.16 1st talk session of Meguro Rock-May-KanGIG at Zepp Yokohama

Zepp Yokohama is a such a nice venue, I really hope we will get to see dir play there live properly!

The concert recorded at Meguro RockMayKan was great! The setlist surprised me quite a lot (especially encore!!!)! And I think that was the smallest stage I ever saw dir on!😆 the footage definitely deserves a separate entry and I don't want to spoil anyone if they go to next events.

After the concert film screening staff quickly prepared the stage, bringing two long tables and four chairs, they also placed a water bottle at each seat.

Punctually (thank you for not repeating Nagoya's situation😆), at 3:30 Fujieda came on stage and started with greeting everyone, and asking us to greet the band members with applause.

After a moment of uncertainty (even as my heart was almost set it will be Kyo) Die came on stage with Kyo after him.٩( ˆoˆ  )۶

They both looked super classy. Die had a dark grey suit with a long jacket, his usual award winning hair and wore sunglasses.

Kyo had a black jacket (with a round Chanel pin) and shirt, green hair, he wore glasses (not sunglasses).

When they sat (Kyo stood in front of the chair first until Fujieda gestured them to sit) F asked them to introduce themselves.

D: ども、Dieです

K: 京です

...and then F announced 'today is Kyo's birthday!' and a birthday song melody began to play😆

Kyo turned on his murder face glaring at Fujieda who happily observed 'oh what's this song?'😂

The soft Happy Birthday melody got then a guitar joining in and Takabayashi came on the stage carrying a small strawberry shortcake (with a chocolate message おめでとう京さん) which of course he placed in front of Kyo.

We couldn't sing but we clapped.

Kyo snatched a strawberry and popped it in his mouth. He gestured 'throat slashing' looking at Fujieda😂

And then ate another strawberry🍓😂

F: the song was made by Die.

K: (only interested in the cake) Could I get a fork?

(staff went to get him one)

F: how do you feel? (about your own birthday)

K: I don't care.

The fork arrived and Kyo literally dug in right in the middle, scooping a huge piece he put whole in his mouth.

Fujieda wisely left Kyo to his cake then and started talking about RMK footage. Die said they had hard time deciding on a tour or events like this in COVID situation. They also mentioned the secret show in 2009 was held in RMK.

Next Die talked about how nice it was to rehearse and play together with the band, first time since March, he was happy about the show, creating sound together as 5 people.

F: did you finish eating K?

K: yup

(there was last 🍓 left (out of 4 big ones), he ate about 25~35%?)

F: then tell us about recording the RockMayKan show!

K: the place was very narrow.

F: anything else?

K: Not really.

But then he added more, that as it has been a while it felt like the first day of the tour.

F: was there anything that was difficult? Was a struggle?

K: when recording I can do it at my own pace, I can do one song when I want, but that day it was back to performing over 10 songs all at once, it was tough, hard on my throat, energy/stamina wise.

But at the same time it was exciting, meet with other members, play music together, that was nice.

F: 2019 was filled with shows, it was busy, then things changed. So after a break to see an audience again got me nervous, in a good way.

Next F said had would like to talk about the release of Oboro.

D: what do you want to know?

F: so the song is not out yet, any hints?

D: it's gonna stay a secret for a bit more.

F: the 2nd track is TDFF？

D: (interesting letters ???didn't catch exactly) it's a powerful song.

F: how is Oboro for you Kyo?

K: quite fresh/refreshing

F: really?!

D: especially the video

...but then Kyo just burst with a whole speech how Fujieda always ask something and when he gets an aswer he didn't expect he doesn't react well, just says what he wants, is not listening to what Kyo says and... it went for a while😆

Next F moved to the topic of the merchandise and asked the band members which items they like.

K: the big badge, before the big pick was huge, shouldn't the badge be like this size (showing about 20cm with his hands). It bothered me from when I saw it. Isn't it just normal?

in the end they agreed it's just 'a bit big' 😂

F: how about for you, D?

D: the rubber key chains?

F: they got sold out very quickly, sorry to fans about that.

D: they are cute. And I like the wristbands too. The color combinations are nice.

T: the badge has the old band's logo, it brings me back

D talked about old times when artists made stickers like that, with logos, to put on their equipment, they worked a bit like business cards, he said he still have some at home.

T picked the rechargeable heat pack.

K: so it's to be used instead of heat packs? (ホッカイロ)

F: uh, it's already warm.

D: huh? Show me? (F passed it to him) it's like a phone that gets hot when charging.

Next they moved on to fans questions. ("~~" is a question from fans they read)

K (unusually picks the first question super fast): "what's your favourite cake?"

K: Well, the strawberry shortcake is good, but this one doesn't have strawberries inside, just some jam, it should have strawberries inside too.

(F so dead😂😂😂)

F: "what's your best or bad memory connected to birthdays?"

K: at a concert somewhere, it was quite long time ago, I got a present all wrapped and in a bag from a silver accessories brand I liked, so nicely wrapped, I opened it and it was empty, isn't that really strange? I looked at the attached letter and it said the person is keeping the item for themselves. It annoyed me so much, the worst bd memory ever.

☹️

F: how about you D?

D: it's not exactly bad memory, but many band members have birthdays in February, in the past when we were still giving each other presents Toshiya and I had to think what to get for 3 people, it was always tough. We stopped that at some point.

T: "any memory/story about China Town?"

D: I like China Town

T: do you go often?

D: sometimes. But only to my favorite restaurants. (?? Talked more about the stadium?)

T: do you usually order the same thing?

D: Mabodofu, the spicy version

(then I think he said something like there's no point in overdoing spicyness, it's not healthy??)

K: I don't know which restaurants are good so I get annoyed. I don't know what decides it's a good one or not.

F: I don't go, but I'd like to.

then they talked about the types of Chinese food and food they tried when in other Asian countries.

K: when we were touring in the US I ordered Chinese abd it was terrible, it was all bad. The egg soup was all clumpy, so bad.

D: "any stories about RockMayKan?"

D: honestly I don't have good memories with this venue, when with a previous band we played together with more senior bands and they took over the dressing room, we couldn't use it, and we also had to greet all senpai musicians.

K: remember when Shinya sat on the lockers? Like on top of the 170cm lockers?

D: was it in Nagoya?

K: he's done his make up there, like a cat or something

D: Shinya climbed a locker and made a space for himself there

K: He's not exactly human. Normally you would not even consider climbing a locker...

D: we usually did our make up on the stairs, didn't use changing room. When we played at RMK as dir for the first time I saw 'this is the changing room!'

He also talked about how the hair spray used by all the bandomen would stink up the whole place 😂

F: "what do you usually wear to sleep?"

K: just underwear. Doesn't matter if it's summer or winter I want to feel the towel like fabric, I use towel cloth for my bedding, I want my whole body to feel it so there's no point in wearing pajamas.

D: at home...wait you mean my home or my family house? At my parents' I always wear the pajama my mum got me, currently the Mickey Mouse one. I only have that one there.

K( with sudden interest): can you draw it?

D: it's about this big, quite big print. The one I wear at home, it wasn't sent by my mum.

K: not Mickey one??

D:  that's Nightmare Before Christmas.

K: Disney theme?

D: this one has a face in the front.

K: do you change characters (for pajamas) every year?

D: this year it's Nightmare.

Next was something they wanted to say to F. K chose to comment on his haircut, because it's asymmetric K is bothered that it will end as an uzumaki in the back. They talked more about F's style.

F: "I'd like you to tell us about your costumes you wore for RMK show".

D: I wanted something motovating so red colour.

K: I had no special reasoning, just what I wanted to wear then.

D: "have you gotten any food delivery?"

He said he only got it once or not much, I think he said he's not fond of shops that don't do it properly, but when recording it's good???

F: Shinya said he orders Uber almost everyday.

K: I only got Uber once.

F: what did you get?

K: Burger King. I quit McDonalds. After eating Burger King I can't go back to McDonalds.

They talked about sizes of burger here?? Whooper versus Junior Whooper?

F: So McD is not good?

K: the meat taste is different. McDonald now tastes like trash.

F: what about the Mc fries, when they get a bit soft.

K: not only a bit. Gross.

D: in the US we usually also have some American staff, when we had some time and we went to eat out, it was funny, American staff went for sushi, Shinya went for McDonalds.

F: was it last time?

D: no, quite some time ago.

F: when did you eat McDonalds the last time?

D: I also don't eat it, it's been some time already.

They talked more about the food, some restaurants D liked in the US (didn't catch the name🙃 but in Sacramento?), then F talked more about event schedule and the time was over.

Last comments from the band members:

Die: From today the new series of film screening starts, thank you for coming to the first day. So well... the band is working on the new album while coming to the events at the same time, we're working on creating a great album. Please come amd enjoy the events.

Kyo: I don't have a special thing to say. Many of you will be coming to few or many events and will end up with many t-shirts, you can do whatever with them, even use them as a doormat, there are many ways to use them, no problem for the whole year.

[applejongho]

cherry on top | choi jongho

genre: fluff, realistic fiction, humor

character: starbucks employee!jongho

description: Jongho has an interesting run-in with a Karen during his shift at Starbucks.

word count: 2k

warnings: mild swearing

author’s note: jongho as a coffee barista was swimming in my mind for quite some time, so here he is. 

masterlist here!

There was something about that coffee stain on Jongho's employee shirt that made it impossible to get rid of. It was likely the mix of the ingredients that had stacked the receipt when it was printed, but Jongho couldn't help but feel she had somehow planned this as he scrubbed harder with bleach.

Jongho wouldn't have guessed the day to turn out as it did, but maybe he should have. Working with the public was always a gamble, but Jongho's optimism blinded him. Most customers were nice enough. Most customers gave a smile when he handed them their overpriced coffee. There weren't too many comments about his red and black hair, and he could shrug off all of them. The compliments were what he remembered.

The day started off normally - with Jongho's coworkers nudging him towards the mound of bagged coffee beans. "I could do it myself, but you just do it quicker, you know?" One of his coworkers had whined, twirling a piece of curly hair around her finger. "It" was picking up the bags of coffee beans to put into the grinder, and Jongho didn't mind it.  As he slung a bag over his shoulder with ease and glanced at her, he could swear her face flushed. Perhaps it was just the sun. The sun hit her face like that when he broke apples in half with his bare hands too. It was strange how the universe liked her like that.

After his bean tasks, Jongho took to the drive-thru of the coffee shop. He was told he had a nice voice, but he doubted he sounded that heavenly through a cheap speaker that hadn't been changed for five years. Nonetheless, Jongho enjoyed doing the drive-thru and taking orders. When there were multiple drive-thru lanes open, he would challenge his coworkers to see who could get through orders the fastest. This caused him and his coworkers to resent vans - vans almost always meant there was a large order - a sure loss, unless Jongho's fingers could learn to dance very quickly on the ordering screen.

Taking orders via the drive thru took up his morning, and then he was released for his lunch break. His coworkers had become accustomed to bringing him apples for the sole purpose of him to break them. He didn't mind, and it allowed him to be more comfortable with his coworkers because he could sometimes be shy. "Is that why part of your hair is red?" A coworker had asked him one day after he had broken multiple apples in a row. Jongho shook his head.

"No. Just red," he shrugged, ignoring his coworker's eyebrow raise. "I just like the color red." He thought he looked good with it.

But not everyone agreed - there were some customers that liked to point it out, like he had never seen himself in a reflection before. "You missed the roots," an older woman had told him at the register and gestured to his hair. Jongho added fifty cents to her order.

But for this day in particular, his hair was the reason for his downfall. For the latter half of the day, Jongho would be at the register. He yearned to be in the bar making drinks because it could become so mindless at points, but he was placed in front of the register before he could say anything. He assumed it was because he was the longest working employee out of the staff today, and Jongho vaguely remembered a newbie was working with him. He guessed the manager didn't want them at the register. The register wasn't much different than the drive thru, but there was something about actually seeing the customer or touching their cash or credit card that made it not enjoyable for Jongho.

About an hour into working at the register, Karen walked in. Jongho saw her and his stomach dropped. She looked exactly like a Karen should look: bobbed blonde hair with caramel highlights that were too dark, opaque and round sunglasses, an obnoxiously pink phone case, and a tacky red American flag shirt that said something about how America was blessed. Jongho knew he shouldn't judge people so quickly, but he had dealt with this breed of women before. He had to brace himself for the worst and the unexpected.

"Hello, ma'am," he said cheerfully when Karen got to the front of the line. Her dark sunglasses obscured her eyes, but she was clearly paying attention to her phone instead of him. She suddenly realized she was in Starbucks and lifted up her glasses. She took one look at Jongho's name tag.

"Hello, John," she said, and Jongho had to bite his tongue to keep from making a noise.

"Jongho," he said.

"John," she continued, and listed off her order, Jongho begrudgingly typing it in as she spoke. It's not that hard of a name, he thought to himself as he kept typing. Why was Karen's order so long? Jongho kept translating her vegan, dairy-free, blood-of-firstborn, extra-expresso venti iced coffee into the system until she stopped talking, and even then she wasn't done.

"So is everyone your age just dying their hair like that?" Karen said without prologue. "I'd never let my kid dye their hair like that. It's so unprofessional."

"Thank you," Jongho said, dodging the question and not wanting to provoke her. He hoped his cheeks weren't also red. "Here's your total. Cash or credit?"

Karen pulled out her purse, but not without clicking her tongue in annoyance. "You all really should lower the prices. It's too damn expensive."

Then make your own, Jongho wanted to reply, but he held his tongue. "I wish I could," he said with a smile. Karen frowned in return, and, without warning, dumped her entire coin bag onto the counter. Jongho yelped and scrambled to keep flying pennies and quarters from rolling off of the counter. In the corner of his eye, a coworker ogled Karen.

"I used the bills to buy my groceries, so I'll pay in coins," Karen yawned while Jongho threw himself onto the floor to make sure no coins had reached there. He got up, plastering on a fake smile. He hadn't had a customer like this in a long time, but if he could just get through her, everything would be okay. He reached for her quarters first and began counting dollars. He knew for a fact that his manager wouldn't have tolerated this kind of behavior from a customer, but Jongho knew he could be too soft at times. Besides, her jangling keys on her wrist glimmered and showed off their sharpness. He swore he saw her teeth glimmer as well.

"Hurry up," Karen said after a few seconds. "Count faster."

Jongho considered shoving pennies into her eyes. "Certainly," he said, and tried to pick up his pace. He could feel her eyes burning on his neck as he shoved the change into the cash register. He pushed her receipt over to her and eagerly began with the customer behind her, glad to be ridden of her.

But his escape was short lived. He heard a whine from the corner of the store and knew it was the Karen immediately. He was currently helping out a different customer, but there was no one else in line behind them. He'd deal with it after the customer if things escalated with Karen.

"Are you sure you made this correctly?" Karen snarled at Jongho's coworker, her nostrils flailing. The coworker looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. "This doesn't taste like how it usually does. Make it again."

Jongho wouldn't have done anything - customers asked for drinks to be remade frequently. But this was Karen, and upon further inspection, this was the new employee that his manager had talked about. He couldn't leave her hanging, it would be rude as an older and more experienced employee. Jongho finished ringing up the final customer and went over to Karen and the other coworker.

"Cherry head," Karen growled, and Jongho only raised his eyebrows. That was a new one.

"I'll make a new one, ma'am, sorry," he said, taking the drink from her. "I'm sure you were fine," he muttered to the worried coworker and was pleased to see her smile.

Iced coffee wasn't difficult, and with the lack of new customers Jongho took the time to make sure the drink was entirely accurate. It's not that she deserved a drink, it's that he wanted her out of the store as soon as possible. He even had the temperature right, and gave it a perfect dairy-free whipped cream swirl at the top before handing it back to her.

Karen ogled the drink for a moment, looking back and forth at the cup and Jongho. Then she threw the drink at him.

The whipped cream top hit Jongho square in the face and he could taste it. Then came the slow and cold trickle of the coffee down his apron and shirt underneath, and at that moment, he was so glad she hadn't ordered anything hot.

"I said I didn't want whipped cream!" Karen bellowed, but Jongho's choir practice had made him desensitized to loud vocals. He wiped the whipped cream from his face and looked at Karen straight in the eyes.

"Get out," he said coldly. "There's a Dunkin across the parking lot. They can have your coins." He paused for a moment, and then his mouth twitched upward. "My name is John, you can write me up if you want. I don't care."

"I will be," Karen growled, red-faced and clutching her purse at her side like Jongho was going to reach out and nab it. he couldn't believe Karen thought that she was the victim here when Jongho had a new fluffy white beard adorning his face.

"John's right," a third coworker said, coming from behind. He could vaguely hear his laugh under his voice. "We don't tolerate harassment on our employees. You're the one that could end up in trouble."

Karen stared daggers at this new employee, and Jongho was surprised she didn't jump over the counter to tackle him. "Good riddance, I knew Starbucks was going downhill anyway." She gave one last snarl at Jongho, who fluffed up his hair at her glance, before walking out of the Starbucks.

The three employees were silent, and then Jongho felt a towel touch his arm. "Oh my God, Jongho, I'm sorry," the third coworker said.

"I don't think I've ever been drenched quite as much as I am now," he said, accepting the towel. He began to dry himself off as best he could, but he knew his face and clothes were going to be sticky for the remainder of the shift.

"I think there's another apron in the back," the new coworker said, and then scurried off to get it before Jongho could say anything.

"I'm just glad it wasn't her that got absolutely wrecked by coffee," the other coworker murmured. "I think she might have cried."

Jongho nodded, still drying himself off. It was a terrible feeling, the coffee all over his skin and clothes, but now that she was gone, he couldn't help but smile. It was comical, how insane the public could be. "I hope John gets hell for what he did," he smiled.

"Absolutely," the coworker agreed, laughing. The new coworker arrived back with the apron, which Jongho gratefully took.

"Give me a minute to clean up," he told the both of them before going to the back to inspect the wreckage on his clothes and face. It could have been better, but it also could have been worse. He licked a part of the whipped cream that was near his lips and grimaced at the flavor. Despite it all, Jongho was amused at the situation. It kept him on his toes. It would be a funny story to share at a party. Jongho wrote a note in his phone to re-dye his red tips when he got home. Then, smiling, he returned to work.

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 2 Co-Written with @southerngracela​

Summary: After your ordeal at the hands of Ransom, you’re not sure that things can get any worse. Famous last words….

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this is Part 2 to our submission for @Jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020  Challenge. Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 1

  With his pride wounded, Ransom drank himself to sleep that night, his mind plotting and scheming of more ways to make his point clear. She was his now and nothing was going to change that. He'd decided it might be time to let her in on his secrets and breakfast seemed as good a time as any and, as such, presented her with a plate of bacon and toast along with a cup of coffee to wash it down. He didn't cook, not well anyway, his preference being diner out or order in. He supposed if this was his new normal, he'd have to learn a new skill. He cringed just slightly at the thought of such domesticity. 

When you heard the locks turn, your belly dropped out. You were shocked to see him, afraid of what was coming your way. If the events from the previous night were any indication, you had to steel yourself to once again fight back. Your tired eyes took him in. A plate and mug in his hands, jeans over his long legs, boots on his feet. Broad shoulders covered by a white ribbed long sleeve thermal shirt, eyes cold and distant, arrogant smirk over his lips. A smirk of your own barely parted your lips as you took note of the now pink lines adorning his right cheek, courtesy of your nails biting at his skin in the attack. You turned away from him, your body instinctively curling in on itself, chain stopping you from balling up completely when he approached. Your mouth watered at the smell of the bacon and coffee. You were hungry but your body fought to ignore the pangs, offering him that satisfaction.

 "I'm not hungry," you managed, desperately irritated at how weak you sounded. 

"Starve then," he set the plate and mug on the nightstand at your bedside. He stood rooted there, arms crossed over his chest. 

"People are gonna be looking for me, you know," you point out, sitting up a little more, confidence growing by the second. 

“You don’t think I’ve already thought of that?” His hands moved from across his chest to his hips. 

As you looked at him, that maddening smug look present on his face it suddenly dawned on you that he might have been more calculating than you’d imagined. And then you understood. You figured out what the connection between him and the actor you’d been supposedly meeting was. None. None whatsoever, except that Lucas Lee had been easy, collateral damage. "You set him up," your brow rose and shock filled your voice. "Lucas Lee... You set him up. What the hell did you do?" 

"Sweetheart, the guy's a complete tool, he walked right into it and he'll walk right out. Just a couple of hours of questioning and he'll be let go," Ransom shrugged as if this were nothing. 

"You're disgusting," you seethe. This arrogant asshole used someone just to get to you and he was PROUD of it. You didn't know what you expected, but the notion of the reality was appalling.

"You don't know the half of it," he winked.

"You're never going to get away with this," you managed to threaten. The look in his eyes caught your breath as he leaned in close, hands on the mattress on either side of your hips. 

"I killed Fran, got away with that. I nearly killed Marta, same story," he said, popping a shoulder up. "The point is, Sweetheart, I'm that good, they'll never find you."

"My family, my friends…they'll go to the police. Mick, my boss, he'll want to know where I am after not showing up today. You can't possibly have thought of everything," you shook your head as you wondered just how long he'd been plotting this. You’d only met the asshole a few months ago, interviewed him for a couple of hours max and then released the article days later. How on earth had that transpired into this utter shirt-show? The thoughts were spiraling so fast in your mind, it was dizzying. 

"Your boss got an email this morning saying you no longer wanted to work for him, and as for your family and friends, well let’s just say I know where they are. I know your little sister's routine. I know the time your mom walks your dog, and that she does it alone.” Ransom continued and you felt the cold course through your body “You do as I say, and they're safe. If not, well, I can pick them off, one, by one, without even getting my hands dirty," he pulled back, standing over you. "So many criminal junkies in Boston, Sweetheart. Plenty who will take the fall for a little hit,” and with that he turned on his heel and walked to the door. 

The true reality of your situation set in and you felt sick to your stomach, despite your hunger. You felt clammy and overwhelmingly dizzy. He had you. If he'd gone this far, followed your family, set up a well-known actor, plotted this entire plan down to how to convince Mick you quit, in a scary short amount of time, just to get to you, you were fully trapped. 

"What happens if you lock me down here...and something happens to you?” Worry laced your words. 

He turned over his shoulder, "I don't give a fuck." And he slammed the door, the sound of the locks echoing in your room. 

In a gut reaction you grabbed the plate of food at threw it at the door where it shattered into pieces, the bacon and toast falling to the floor with it. You screamed as you threw it, for if you hadn't you'd have vomited where you led. 

**** Ransom heard the scream and the smash of the plate and paused half way up the stairs. He took a deep breath, contemplating going back down and teaching Y/N some damned manners before he decided to leave it. He’d given her enough to think about for the time being, and besides, he didn’t want to lower himself to delivering another slap to her face like he had done last night. In all honesty, he hadn’t been expecting the site of the bruise on her right cheek to unsettle him as much as it had done. Her pretty face shouldn’t be marked in anyway, and looking at it had simply reminded him how he’d lost control. Of all the things he’d done, he’d never hit a woman before, despite murder and attempted murder. It left a bad taste in his mouth all things considered and a nasty twist in his gut that felt almost like guilt. But it wasn’t guilt, that wasn’t something he did either…no, it was the fact that in all of his actions, even the diabolical ones, he’d remained calm and in control. Until last night. He’d been feral, wild even, and it wasn’t a feeling he relished. But she’d pushed him to it, provoked him. It was her fault, not his.

He shrugged on his coat and grabbed his keys, before he headed out, locking the door and climbing into his black Mercedes SUV. God he missed his beamer, but this was a lot less conspicuous, just as he needed at the moment. He slipped his sunglasses on to shield his eyes against the bright fall sun and set off towards the City.

His mother was already seated and waiting for him when he arrived at the Harbor. He walked over to her table, pulling off his sunglasses and sliding them into the pocket of his camel coat, removing his trademark silk scarf as he went. He handed them off to the help showing him to his seat, asking him to bring him a beer, and sat across from Linda, who was watching him carefully as she lounged back in her seat, properly dressed as ever in a crisp pair of black trousers and a white long sleeved silk blouse. With her legs crossed, she cut quite the imposing figure, but not to him.

Ransom greeted her with a stiff nod and she frowned and gestured to his face.

“What on earth have you done to your cheek?” she questioned, clearly noticing the scratch marks. Ransom hesitated for a second, “Things got a little rough last night, ” he shrugged but his smirk didn't quite reach his eyes. Linda let out a slight groan as she grimaced “Jesus Ransom, I don’t want to know about your sordid little bedroom antics,” she scalded. “Then don’t ask, Mother,” He drawled, not missing a beat.

“Oh believe me, I wish I hadn't.” Linda rolled her eyes.

Ransom looked down at the menu that was on the table in front of him, giving it a cursory glance already knowing what he was ordering, the same as he always did when he was here, before he took a deep breath and raised his eyes to his mother. She wasn’t one for small talk, and neither was he, so he decided to get straight to the point.

“Why are we here?” he demanded “I mean, aside from the obvious guilt driven task of having lunch with your son.” “If you're going to be a spoiled brat why did you even agree to meet me?” Linda shot back and Ransom smirked.

“What was it you always told me mom? No matter how rich you are, never turn down a free meal.”

“Snarky smart ass” Linda retorted and it was his turn to snort as her brow furrowed.

“Now, now Mother. Those frown lines are getting worse” he arched an eyebrow and she glared at him before she sighed.

“I wanted to see how you were, is that so hard to believe.” “In a word, yes.” He shrugged.

“Well, it’s true.” She reached for her glass of wine and took a sip. “I've not seen you since you moved house.”

Ransom rolled his eyes, Jesus he didn’t have time for this shit. He took a deep breath and looked at her as she eyed him expectantly, waiting for his answer “Just fine. I'm enjoying my new place.”

“So, you like it then?” Linda set her glass down and leaned back once more. “I must admit when it came on our books I thought it would suit you.”

“It's different than Kenoak, less modern, but it does the job” he said vaguely and saw her body language stiffen.

“If you don’t like it why did you buy it Ransom?” her tone was exasperated and he had to fight back the grin that was threatening to spread across his face at the fact he was riling her. It was always so damned easy.

“Well, my last place had kinda turned into a bit of a media circus.”

“Yeah, I expect that’s what happens when you're involved in a homicide” she snapped back.

“Say it a bit louder.” Ransom deadpanned “I don’t think they heard you over by the bar.”

“Believe me, that wasn’t intentional.” she held his gaze “Your Granddad’s death isn't something I find funny, Ransom. Not that it ever occurred to you."

Ransom sighed. He was starting to get annoyed under her scrutiny and really wasn’t in the mood for a deep dive into the events of the past year.

“Not of sound mind, Mother.” He said, his voice a little softer as he reminded her of the argument his brief had made which had ensured his acquittal from his crimes, hoping it would shut her up. “Remember?”

“I know son, I know.” Linda leaned over and gently lay her hand on his where it rested on the table. Ransom took a deep breath and shifted in his seat. Physical affection from her always made him uncomfortable as he wasn’t used to it, but for some reason it was heightened in that moment. He sat and pondered for a second on what he had just said. His brief had spun the line about him being under emotional duress due to his granddad cutting him out of his will and whilst there was an element of truth in it, he’d been of perfect mental capacity when he’d enacted his plan. But, if it helped his mother believe that her only son isn’t a monster then…whatever. He pulled his hand back from her and she sighed, clearly mistaking his discomfort for guilt.

 “You know, you used to be such an affectionate little boy, Ransom.” Linda looked at her hand as if his rebuttal had burned her before she shook her head and reached once more for her drink. “I often wonder where your dad and I went wrong.”

Ok, so this he could deal with. The reminder that he was a constant disappointment.

 “Hard to say.” He snarked “Somewhere between boarding school and Harvard maybe?”

She rolled her eyes “We did what we thought was best.” She set her now empty glass down. “Clearly in hindsight...”

Ransom was saved from her self-indulgent moment of soul searching by the waiter who set his beer down in front of him and asked if they were ready to order. Ransom gestured to his mother who asked for the house salad with a side of tempura prawns whilst he went for his usual, fillet steak with all the trimmings. It was obnoxiously expensive but what the hell, like he cared. Especially not when his Mother was paying...

He took a long pull from his beer as the waiter topped his mother’s glass up from the bottle that stood in the ice bucket next to their table before she thanked him and he disappeared.

“You’ve not asked me how your father is.” Linda looked at Ransom who narrowed his eyes. Why does she care about that? But, deciding it was as good a conversation change as any he shrugged.

“How's Richard?”

Linda rolled her eyes but for the first time since he arrived he noticed a little smirk flicker on her lips before she looked at him. “He’s still your dad Ransom" she reminded.

“Ok, how is my dearest dad? Still fucking the 30 year old au-pair?”

“Yes, apparently, he's taking her to the villa.”

Now that did make him frown. The Villa that they owned in Lake Gada was his mother’s pride and joy.

“Seriously? You're just gonna let him do that?” Ransom’s tone was surprised.

“I have no choice.” Linda took a deep breath “Our divorce isn't final and he's contesting me keeping the property. It's not as cut and dry as one would assume despite his infidelity, numerous infidelities even.”

“He signed a pre-nup, Mom.” Ransom reminded her and Linda nodded.

“I know, but the Villa wasn't part of it. It's the one thing he can hold over me and he's doing just that.” She took a sip of her drink and snorted “Dumb bastard has nothing so he figures why not try his luck here. Fact is, he gets nothing else.”

“Good.”  Ransom retorted, a little viciously and Linda eyed himself shrewdly.

“Careful Ransom, you almost sound like you care.” She smirked and he rolled his eyes, not gracing her with an answer. “Anyway, what are you doing with yourself these days?” she moved the conversation on “And I don't mean with women as we've already established when you sat down. Any hobbies or God forbid a job prospect I should know about?” “Aside from my love life, I’m actually writing mother, believe it or not.” He responded, amused at the visible look of shock that crossed her face.

“You're....writing?” her mouth dropped open before she hastily shut it.

“Don't sound too surprised, Linda,” Ransom let out a low chuckle as his mother rolled her eyes at his use of her name. “Granddad always said I had a flare for it. Just-” he paused for a moment before he shrugged “-well, I guess I never really used it much.”

Linda cocked her head to the side as she considered him for a moment before her face softened and once more Ransom felt uncomfortable at her change in demeanour. “He'd be proud of you. I suppose it's what he's always wanted for you, to find something for yourself.”

And there it was. The reminder that he was nothing but a trust fund prick, with no future and nothing of his own to live off. He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth slightly before he responded with a false air of nonchalance.

“I see that now.”

“Good. I'm pleased you do Son.” Linda nodded. “I'm not glad about how it all went down but...well, as dad used to say, things have a strange way of working out in the end.” It was a funny choice of words, Ransom thought, but before he had chance to dwell on it anymore their food arrived. The conversation slowed a little as they both ate, growing a little stilted in places as he told her vaguely what his writing project was about- a private detective- go figure. Linda moaned about more about his father, and then she dropped something casually into the conversation that really did surprise him, that they were planning a memorial for Harlan. 

"When?" he frowned, swallowing a mouthful of potato.

“The end of this month, possibly the first week in December. It'll be after Thanksgiving.” Linda waved her hand before she paused, hesitating a little as if she was deliberating whether or not to tell him this next bit. And when she did, he fully realised why. “It was Marta’s idea.” The mere mention of that name was enough to get his hackles up and he took a deep breath, the nerve in his jaw twitching. He looked at his mother as she watched him carefully before he looked away and took a drink of his beer. “Hmmm” was all he could muster.

“Hmmm? What's Hmm, Ransom?” Linda looked at him.

“I figured with Harlan gone she'd be out of our lives.” He shrugged, feeling his neck grow hot. That bitch was responsible for all of this in the first place, the reason he was done out of his inheritance. If she hadn’t got her claws into him none of his would have happened.

“Yes, well, as much as it sticks in my throat that she got everything maybe if we play ball she'll come round to actually giving us all what we're owed.” Linda shrugged “And that aside...it will be nice to remember him.”

The rest of the lunch passed with simple conversation, Ransom steering it well away from the subject of his family. When they’d finished his mother, as predicted, picked up the tab and together they headed outside to wait for the Valet to fetch their vehicles. His mother’s arrived first and she turned to him, the pair of them engaging in the awkward, stilted kissing of the cheeks before she promised him his quarterly check from his shares in her company should land next week. With a nod and a thanks he bid her good bye and a few moments later climbed into his own car and set off back home.

***** With a yell you sat bolt upright, taking a moment to get your bearings as you emerged from the troubled sleep you had fallen back into. Yes, you were still here, in Drysdale’s fucking basement. The tears stung your eyes as you lay back, taking some deep breaths as you attempted to ebb the panic which was setting in. Your situation was disgusting and dire, you were trapped and therefore, you knew you needed to ask for the things you needed, not wanted, just simply needed, or in time, Hugh could add you to his notch post of growing murder victims. The question was, exactly how far could you push him for anything? One wrong move, as you'd learned last night, and you'd be regretting ever uttering a syllable. But you refused to go quietly, you'd be further letting yourself down if you did. You didn't have it in you. However, just how dangerous he was or could be now was no longer lost on you, you had the physical reminder in the biting sting of your cheek, throbbing and tenderness you felt between your legs, and the slight bruising around your wrists where he had pinned them above your head. You hadn’t examined the rest of your body to see what damage he’d done, you didn’t want to.

You ached all over from being led or sat on this damned bed since you’d arrived. The chain attaching you to the bed post wasn’t long enough to allow you to stand up and stretch our your aching limbs so for now you had to settle for attempting to massage some feeling back into your calves, your eyes casting over the various tears and ladders in your thick tights which you’d pulled back up last night with trembling hands after he had violated you.

The door clicked open and your head jerked towards the door as you scrambled higher up the bed, pressing your back into the headboard. You watched as your captor strode in, a packet of Biscoff in his hand pausing as his foot crunched over the shattered remnants of the plate that you’d hurled at the door. He looked up at you, raising an eyebrow, as if he'd forgotten he'd heard you throw it this morning. 

“I don’t like cleaning up messes” He said simply as he stepped over it, shutting the door with his foot.

“Pity you killed the house keeper then” you glared at him as he shoved another cookie into his mouth.

“Who, Fran?” he asked with a scoff, his voice muffled by his food.

“How many other house keepers have you killed?” you shot back and he gave a snort.

“None.” Ransom shrugged nonchalantly “But for your information, Fran was a useless dimwit. She only cared about two things. Drugs and getting paid.”

You frowned, was that supposed to justify his actions in some way? He too only cared about getting paid and what money could do for him. “And you care about what exactly other than yourself?” you shot back. He looked at you, a smirk crossing his handsome face as she shoved yet another cookie into his mouth, chewing slowly.

At that point your stomach growled with hunger, just another way your body had betrayed since you since you had arrived and you tore your face from his, turning it to the side.

“Now are you hungry?” he asked as you realised that was probably the bastard’s plan all along. With a deep sigh you looked back at him.

“Can I have one?” you asked meekly.

Ransom studied you for a moment, tongue poking at his cheek, before he strode towards the bed and offered you the packet. You took one and stuffed it straight into your mouth.

“No thank you?”

“Piss off.” You shot back automatically, swallowing your cookie.

His good demeanour ebbed slightly as an irritated look flashed across his face. “Don’t push me, Sweetheart.” his voice was low as he sank onto the side of the bed, looking at you “I think your situation is precarious enough as it is, don’t you?”

You merely glared at him, you had no comeback. There was no comeback. He was right.

“Now if I make you something proper to eat are you gonna take it or throw it at the door again?” he raised his eyebrows “Because, frankly, you starving yourself is of no real concern to me except I kinda think you’re gonna need to keep your strength up.”

It didn’t take a genius to work out exactly what for. But you were so hungry, and the battle inside you raged on before your self-preservation mode won out and you hung your head slightly, looking at the comforter you were led on. “I’ll eat.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Ransom smirked again.

“No.” you replied, your voice devoid of emotion. “Can I have some water too?”

“As long as you don’t throw the glass.”

“I’m thirsty.” You replied simply “I won’t.”

He nodded and stood up, offering you the packet of cookies “Have those for now.”

“Thank you.” You took them from him, your tone a little sarcastic, your eyes rolling as you spoke. He looked at you and for a moment you were worried he was about to do something about your response but he simply gave a huff of laughter and turned to leave.

“I’ll be back shortly.” He said, closing the door behind him. 

You could no longer bite back the sigh of delight as you took another of the buttery spiced cookies into your mouth. It was rich on your tongue but it was food and you were so hungry. What you wouldn't do for a cup of coffee to go with. You surveyed the room as you chewed the Biscoff thoughtfully. The earlier despair you’d felt upon waking just before he had re-appeared was slowly giving way to determination as you realised that for now practicality had to win you over. Not only did you need sustenance and water, which you knew was on the way, you also needed clothing and access to the bathroom, which you now realized you were desperate for.

So now what, you thought to yourself. The fact that he was willing to feed you despite the fact you’d launched your morning’s meal against the door meant he didn't want you dead. Mind you, if he did you wouldn’t have made it out of that fucking dilapidated house so, just what kind of a game was he playing at here? You weren't sure what his end game was if it didn't mean your certain death. You just didn't understand and felt the struggle of thoughts seep into your mind as you contemplated each step. He doesn't want you dead, but you're locked up, chained up and he's obliterated your body by force. And that was only the first round. So far he's voiced his hell bent plan on keeping you here and making you suffer. And he's done a right job at it after just the first night. He couldn't keep this up for the rest of your life, could he? No, you didn't think, but he's gone as far as to know your every day, your family's every day, detail for detail. It couldn't possibly be for ironically a ransom, no, he had plenty of money still and if you were certain, his mother was still finding ways to slip him allowances and he'd managed to get a small chunk under the table and off the record from your publishers on your behalf. So no, it wasn't for money. Did he expect a better and firm, more sincere apology? Well he sure as shit wasn't going to get one now. Stupid, spoiled fuck. You outwardly scoff at the thought. What does he want that you have? The endgame is unknown but you were in the long game now, that much was apparent. You just had to not walk into verbal traps and wait for him to reveal his hand. But you guessed just by the times you've previously had with Hugh Ransom Drysdale that his hand wouldn't be revealed until he held the right cards.

True to his word Ransom came back what couldn't have been more than 15 minutes later. He handed you a plate containing a simple turkey sandwich, a bag of chips and a plastic bottle of water. “Just in case you get any ideas about smashing it and doing me in…” he said, placing it down.

“Murder is your speciality, not mine” you snarked back biting into your sandwich as the hunger you felt won out over the need to pee that you’d felt before. It was actually pretty good. The bread was fresh, the meat succulent, both more than likely from a deli and not a bog standard store. You ate eagerly, Ransom settled in the arm chair in the corner of the room by the low coffee table, his eyes watching you. You ignored him, concentrating on your food.

“So…” you said as you stuffed the last of your sandwich into your mouth “Are you gonna keep me down here?”

“Yup” he said simply, popping the P.

You swallowed and grabbed the water, cracking the top open and draining half of it in one, your hand trembling slightly. Thankfully you avoided spilling any. You screwed the top on and placed it back on the night stand and watched with horror as he rose from his seat and crossed towards you, sitting on the side of the bed

“So, because I don’t want anything to fuck up what we got here, sweetheart, I have a simple question which you’re gonna answer.” Ransom said, looking at you “Are you on birth-control?”

Your mouth dropped open as you glared at him.

“What the fuck?” you stuttered

“It’s a simple question that requires a yes or no answer.” His expression hadn’t changed, not one bit. Cool, calm and collected, like this was something he would simply ask anyone. As you stared at his smug face, your puzzlement at the seemingly straight outta left field question gave way to anger. He was asking you this, like it was his damned right to know, like he was your fucking boyfriend by choice.

“You tell me, I mean you thought of everything or so you took great pleasure in telling me last night.” You spat. Quick as a flash his hand grabbed your face, his fingers gripping your chin painfully and you let out a little whimper.

“Answer the question.” He said simply

And then you realised, it wasn’t really that out of left field at all was it? It was clear following last night what his intention for you was and like he’d want the added complication of any little surprises turning up in around 9 months. You swallowed, your eyes looked down

“Yes” you whispered, and he released your face.

“Good.” Ransom nodded “Makes things a lot easier.” “I’m not a sex toy, Hugh.” You glared at him and he looked back at you, giving a snort.

“You’ll be whatever I want you to be.” “You’re an asshole.”

“So it’s been said.” He shrugged simply, like he didn’t give a shit. Which, as you realised, he probably didn’t. People like him never did care what they came across like, arrogant trust fund prick.

With a sigh you pinched the bridge of your nose and glanced around the room you were in, as if you really hadn't paid much attention to it's details before. Ironically, if you weren’t here under duress it would actually be quite nice. The bed was large and comfy, there was a reasonably big bathroom attached which from what you could make out contained a fairly nice sized bath tub and a separate walk in shower cubicle. There was what looked like a built in closet next to the bathroom door, a night stand which contained a reading lamp to your right and on the opposite wall to the bed in front of you there was a dresser and a small shelf fixed to the wall a little higher, which was empty. To the left of the room was a large, plush armchair behind which another lamp was fixed to the wall and a fancy oak coffee table which matched the rest of the furniture. Above the chair, was a porthole like window, hexagonal in shape, but high enough to not allow for escape but for the warmth of daylight to seep into the space. 

A fucking studio apartment, that half of Boston would probably kill to own…and you were trapped in it. Well, certainly until you could think of a way to un-trap yourself so to speak.

You looked back at him and decided to keep pressing your luck a little. There were things you needed, starting with the bathroom, and you were damned if you were going to let him degrade you even more than he already had by letting you piss yourself.

“There are things I’m going to need.” You spoke, taking care to keep your voice neutral, attempting to avoid outwardly displaying the desperation you were feeling “A pee and a shower for one” you gestured with your head to the small bathroom.

“Well if you’re gonna behave, I’ll undo this.” He reached down and jangled the chain that was attached to the shackle round your ankle.

“Clothes too…”

“The closet is full.” He said simply “But you have to behave, Sweetheart, or you go right back on the chain.

You grit your teeth. Sweetheart, you were no more his sweetheart than he was Harlan’s favorite grandchild. “Like I have a choice.”

“You do.” He said simply “Behave or not.”

You let out a frustrated growl “I told you I was gonna, now just undo the fucking dog collar on my ankle.”

“Ooh, so feisty.” Ransom mocked and you glared at him.

With a chuckle he stood up and pulled the key out of his pocket, undoing the shackle round your ankle and stood back slightly. You moved and shuffled to the edge of the bed where he watched as you rose to your legs. However, after the ordeal you’d been through the night before, plus your no doubt whacky blood sugar level, your head span a little and you staggered forward. Ransom caught you, both his hands hooking under your arms as he helped you steady yourself, his touch surprisingly gentle as his hands slid down to your ribs, thumbs brushing underneath your breasts and you looked at him, blinking. His action had caught you off guard and if the look on his face was anything to go by it had caught him off guard too. There was a moment where you stood still before you remembered exactly what was going on and with an angry scoff you raised both your hands, palms flat on his chest and shoved him as hard as you could.

It didn’t move him much, a half a step back or so, but it was enough to make a point. The unexpected softness on his face turned to anger and a split second later his right hand was round your throat.

“I'm warning you…” he snarled, his large fingers flexing causing his grip to tighten, around your throat. He gave a sharp squeeze, not enough to cut off your airway, instead serving as a threat, telling you he could if he wanted to. He released his grip as the tears stung your eyes and he moved aside to allow you to move to the bathroom. You went as quickly as you could and once you were there you made to shut the door.

Only there wasn’t one. “Why the fuck is there no door?” you turned and faced him.

“Because I won’t clean up a dead body.” He shrugged “So before you get any dumb ideas, anything that could make you think about a means to an end isn’t in this room either.”

You looked at him, frowning before you realised what he meant and you shook your head. “Oh trust me, I’m not about to kill myself over you.”

“Good.” He said simply, “You have 10 minutes” he said, leaning on the frame where the door should have been.

“You’re not watching me pee, Hugh!”

At that his face darkened “Call me Hugh one more time, I dare you, Sweetheart.” His voice was laced with venom as his eyes flashed dangerously, but despite all that you couldn’t help yourself. It was the only weapon you had in your arsenal to deploy.

“Hugh.” you spat, raising an eyebrow.

His jaw clenched and in two large strides he was on you, his hand grabbing your forearm as he yanked you across the bathroom, your feet skidding on the tiles as you struggled for traction on the floor. You yelled out at the pain of his grip but no sooner had it started it stopped as he flung you unceremoniously into the shower cubicle. Your knees and hip collided painfully with the tray and you gave a scream as a torrent of freezing cold water hit you, soaking your sweater dress. You gasped and spluttered, struggling to your feet, the cold making your chest contract and he looked at you, his face back to its stony calm expression.

“10 minutes” he repeated.

He turned to go and in a fit of rage you peeled the icy, sodden jersey dress off and flung it at him. It hit him square in the back before it slid to the floor, splattering on the tiles in a sopping mess. You saw him take a deep breath, his broad shoulders rippling under his thermal ribbed top as he stood up square and turned to face you as you stood, teeth chattering in the still cold spray in nothing but your bra and laddered thermal tights.

“You’re really testing my patience, Sweetheart.” He intoned darkly, before he cocked an eyebrow “9 and a half minutes.” He left the bathroom and headed into the main room, and you turned away instantly cranking up the heat on the shower. As it warmed you through, the water beating down on you, you reached for the shower gel which was on a small shelf in the corner of the cubicle. You scrubbed and scrubbed, not caring how much you used, attempting to rid yourself of the dirty feeling of him as you recalled his hands all over you, his cock violating you in the way it had. You didn’t stop the tears falling, your resolve breaking, as you turned your face into the spray, allowing it to hide your tears, before you washed your hair in the shampoo and conditioner.  Eventually, when you’d done everything you could, you turned off the water, took a deep breath and squeezed your hair out before stepping out of the shower. Your eyes instinctively went to the doorway and you were relieved. You couldn’t see Ransom, which meant he didn’t have an eye-line directly into the shower, awarding you some level of privacy at least.

You grabbed a towel which you wrapped around yourself, before you took another and used it to squeeze your hair before you pulled it back into a messy bun out of the way, and stepped out of the bathroom.

 “That was 11 minutes.” Ransom said simply as you emerged into the main area of the basement “I’ll let the 90 seconds slide.”

You glared at him as he sat in the armchair, his broad frame filling it, right leg crossed over his left, an I don't give a fuck look about his face, and you knew at that moment you had never hated anyone more in your life than you hated him right then. You turned towards the closet and began to route through, the tears filling your eyes again as you concentrated on finding something to wear. You pulled a few things out, checking the tags. Not only did the prices shock you (it was all high end, designer stuff- what else would the spoilt, trust fund prick buy) but it was all your size. Which unnerved you no end. Pushing that to the back of your mind, as after all in the situation you were in it was the least of your worries, eventually you settled on a simple pale blue cashmere sweater, and a pair of jeans.

“Underwear?” you turned and looked at him. He nodded to the drawers built into the bottom of the closet and you opened it, taking a breath. Of course it would all be lace, sexy. You picked the most modest pair of black, lace French-style briefs you could find and the matching bra, tossing the lot onto the bed. You looked at him, cocking your eyebrow and he mimicked the action, gesturing with his hand.

“Don’t mind me.” The dismay washed over you as you realised what he meant and you took a deep breath “You’re gonna sit there and watch?”

“Yup.” He replied simply, popping the p loudly.

You bowed your head, knowing there was no point turning your back on him, he’d just force you to turn round. As you stared to pat yourself dry though your towel, you blinked back the tears as for some reason this felt far more humiliating and degrading that what he’d done to you last night.

****

Ransom wasn’t sure he’d ever exercised self-control like this, he normally just bought (or took) what he wanted, and before he’d wanted nothing more than to trace the beads of water which moved down her neck and back, collecting in the towel as she rifled through the closet. She reached for the panties first, and attempted to shimmy them on under the towel and he gave a click of his tongue.

“Oh no doll.” He smirked, “lose it.”

She glared at him, and he simply held her gaze, not looking away and eventually he saw her shoulder sag as she reached up with a shaking hand and unhooked the edge of the towel which was tucked in on itself and let it fall to the floor. He gave a loud hum of approval as he took her in, her long-lithe legs up to her hips, the curve of her waist, pert breasts and delicate shoulders and collar bone. She swallowed on air and he watched her throat bob, and he instantly found himself thinking how good she’d look swallowing something else. He shifted slightly in his seat, the crotch of his jeans now feeling a little tight thanks to his semi-hard cock, and she reached for the lace briefs stepping into them. As she shimmied them up, her breasts jiggled a little and he gave an inward groan. For a second he thought about stopping her, taking her there and then but now wasn’t the time. They had things to discuss, certain rules she needed to understand.

Plus, the waiting and the anticipation would simply heighten the pleasure later when he finally did fuck her again.

He remained still as she pulled on the rest of the clothes before she turned to him, her cheeks adorably flushed.

“Hairbrush?” she asked.

Ransom nodded to the dresser opposite the bed and she moved over towards it, opening one of the drawers. She reached in and pulled the item out, dragging it through her hair before she braided it quickly and then turned to him expectantly.

“Sit.” He said, gesturing to the bed. She did as she was told, sinking down onto the edge of it, her hands clasped in her laps, fingers of her right hand pulling at the ones in her left nervously.

“Ok…” he leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees as he looked at her “Here’s how it’s gonna work.”

At his words Y/N looked at him, and then her hands released each other and she folded her arms, crossing her legs on the bed, chewing on her cheek with a sullen look on her face. The look of someone that really didn’t want to listen but had no option.

Such a petulant brat.

“You’re gonna do what I tell you, when I tell you.” Ransom spoke calmly and authoritatively “If I want you, I’m gonna have you.” At that she took a shaky breath but her eyes remained on his as he continued “You behave, you’ll get rewarded. If you don’t, you’ll be punished.”

“Punished?” she sputtered. “What could possibly be a worse punishment than this?” she waved her hand and Ransom allowed himself a chuckle.

Oh, Doll, you have no idea…

“Do you really want to know?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow up.

“No.” she said, hanging her head slightly.

“Smart move.” He nodded.

“Anything else?” she looked back at him, the defiance once more filling her features.

“Yes, don’t call me Hugh.”

At that she smirked and he felt a flash of annoyance “Sorry, am I amusing you?”

“Nope.” She shook her head quickly, the smirk fading as quick as it had appeared.

“Good.” He said, his palms slapping his thighs as he stood up.

“Is that it?”

“For now.” He nodded.

“Do I get to make any rules?”

Ransom hesitated, and looked at her. He had to hand it to her, she was gutsy but that was part of the reason she was hear after all. He shook his head, chuckling slightly “This isn’t a negotiation.”

“Can I ask you for things?”

“I just said, this isn’t a negotiation.” He started to get a little bit irked at her attitude now, “You behave, you get things.”

“So you’re gonna leave me down here with nothing? No TV, no books, no stereo?”

“Behave and I’ll think about it.” He replied simply and when she sighed he knew she understood that arguing and bargaining with him was futile.

Ransom Drysdale bargained with no one.

“You know…” he said, stepping towards the bed and she instantly took a deep breath, shying away a little. The fact he had so much power over her was exhilarating and he smiled, stopping a foot or so away from the edge of the bed, his large frame towering over her. “I should shackle you again, for your back chatting and slapping me in the back with your wet clothes but I’m fair. I’ll let that go. I hadn’t explained my rules.”

She blinked up at him and he nodded towards the bathroom. “Put your dirty stuff in the hamper. I’ll be back later.”

As he strode towards the door he could have sworn he heard her mumble something, something that sounded suspiciously like she’d called him a prick. He stopped, smirking, before he fixed a hard look on his face and turned round.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” She said quickly

“Thought not.” He nodded, and with that he turned and left, locking the numerous bolts on the door behind him.

**** With a lack of anything else to do you cleaned up the water from the bathroom floor and tossed everything into the hamper like you’d been told to do and then, taking advantage of your new found “freedom” so to speak you set about exploring every single nook and cranny of your ‘cell’. You found the bathroom was fully stocked with all sorts of toiletries, sanitary products (fuck, you didn’t even want to think about what he was going to do to get his sordid little kicks when Aunt Flow came to visit in 3 weeks or so), there was a little make up as well in the drawer in the vanity unit that you’d spotted before and you pulled it out to examine it, once again finding it to be not your usual brand but high end all the same. Finding all this was only compounding your confusion as to what the hell his goal was in all this, but as you had realised before until he decided to show you those cards, you would simply be playing a guessing game.

In the drawers under your bed you found a few different sets of linen which was a relief as it meant you weren’t going to be at his mercy as to when you could change your bedding. Given what had happened the night before, you were half tempted to change them again but you hesitated and decided to wait until later, because you had a sinking feeling he was going to take you again, especially given his declaration earlier.

“If I want you, I’m gonna have you.”

If that was how your life was going to go for the foreseeable, you’d be going through a hell of a lot of bedding if you changed it every time he fucked you. Much more than was contained in the drawers anyway.

Pushing that horrible thought from your head, you took a deep breath, focussing on staying calm, staying collected, staying alive. She needed her wits, her strength, her continued ability of self preservation. And, given the fact that he's murdered before, you weren't entirely trusting his word of not wanting to kill you. You closed the drawers and then settled yourself down on the floor at the side of the bed nearest the arm chair and low coffee table indulging in a few yoga stretches and the like in an attempt to ease out your still aching muscles. You were sat on the floor, with your legs extended, reaching for your toes when he came back and with a little smirk on his face handed you a book.

“For the boredom.”

You blinked and then took it from him, shaking your head as you realised it was one of his granddads, most likely his idea of a joke. And what was more it was one you’d already read.

Nevertheless, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you thanked him and then stood up and dropped into the chair, opening the cover. How long had passed you had no idea, but you were a good few chapters on when the trust fund ass wipe re-emerged, and the smell of food wafted across the room. He set a tray down on the bed and jerked his head towards it, in a silent instruction for you to vacate the seat. With a roll of your eyes you tried to get comfortable on the bed to eat with said tray balanced on your knee and with an exasperated groan you looked at him.

“Is there any chance of getting some form of table and chair so I can eat off it and not where I’m expected to sleep?”

He looked at you for a second, before he shrugged “I’ll think about it, depending on how you behave.”

The chicken was dry, but you ate it anyway, remembering your earlier thoughts about staying strong. As you chewed you watched him where he sat in the chair in the corner of the room, looking at something on his phone. Having had time to think things over even more, you knew you needed to play this clever, get him on your side, let him believe that you could be trusted if you wanted to stand any chance of getting out of here. With a deep breath you supressed the desire you had to simply remain silent, sullen even and spoke.

“Are you not eating?” you asked him and he looked at you, surprise on his face.

“I had a big lunch.” He responded simply.

“Well I hope it was better than this.” You arranged your face into the best playful look you could muster “Because, no offence, it sucks.”

Ransom looked at you, before he snorted “Yeah, cooking isn’t my forte.”

“Maybe I could do it.” You offered “I’m not a bad chef.”

His eyes locked on yours and you concentrated on keeping the look on your face innocent as he studied you. Eventually he spoke again “Maybe. If you behave.”

Again, the focus on your behaviour. He clearly wanted you to be good, compliant maybe. Bolstered by the slight progress you were making into maybe understanding what you needed to do you continued. “So, did you go anywhere nice? For lunch I mean.”

“The Harbor.” He responded “Food was good, company was slightly irritating.”

“Company?” the surprise in your tone was genuine

“I met my mother.”

“Oh.” You replied, looking back down at the plate as you blinked back the tears, the thought of your own mother filling your head. She would be beside herself now. You took a deep breath, you might be able to be compliant but you were damned if you were going to show him any weakness, that’s what he wanted. Instead, you took another bite of your meal and looked up at him. “That must have been nice for you.”

“Is that sarcasm?” Ransom asked in an amused tone and you rolled your eyes.

“No, I was being serious. Mind you, you don’t strike me as being close to your family so…” you shrugged and shovelled a soggy piece of broccoli into your mouth.

“You’re smart, we're not.” He shrugged “But she wanted to know how I was getting on.”

“Bet that conversation was positively riveting.” You smirked “And that was sarcasm by the way.”

Ransom scoffed “It wasn’t bad to be honest, that was until she steered it around to Marta.”

“Marta?” you frowned, pondering what on earth could have brought their conversation around to that. “Why did you talk about her?”

“What is this Jeopardy?” he arched an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes. “Why not, I'll take Drysdale family politics for my share of the inheritance, Alec…”

“Watch your mouth, Sweetheart.” His tone was warning and his face stony. You swallowed and looked down at the plate.

“Sorry.” You said, keeping up your act. Silence fell again and you finished the last of your dinner and set the tray on the nightstand.

Ransom took a deep breath “Seeing as you’re so interested, Marta has approached my mother and the family about holding a memorial for Harlan.” You looked at him, and his eyebrows raised. “Ironic huh, the bitch who stole what was mine is planning a memorial for my grandad when she’s responsible for his death.”

At that you scoffed, he really was unbelievable and just like that your resolve to be nice started to ebb away at his utter narcissism “Are you for real? You’re responsible for Harlan’s death, and as for taking what was yours, you never had anything, none of you did! It was Harlan’s, you didn’t earn it.” Ransom glowered at you but you continued, shaking your head with a derisive laugh. “You know, the fact he would rather leave it to his nurse than his own family says more about you all than it does about her."

“What did you just say?” His voice was low, and there was an unmistakable flash of anger on his face.

“You heard me. Not that I expect any of that to bother you, Hugh, you do and take what you want anyway and fuck whoever gets hurt in the crossfire…” at that you gestured around the room, “prime example…”

There was a pause and in an instance you realised your mistake. You’d called him inadequate and worse, had broken one of those fucking rules, called him Hugh. His whole demeanour had changed, he was pissed. His jaw was set, his eyes dark, his entire body rigid.

Shit.

In a flash he was off the chair. You reacted equally as quick, jumping off the bed in an attempt to put some distance in between you. Why, you had no idea, it wasn’t like you were going to stop him, but maybe if you could buy some time you could talk him down as you backed toward the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” but your apology was cut off as he rounded the bed, grabbing your hair painfully, yanking your braid down so your head was tilted back, looking at him. You let out a scream of pain and moved your hands to grab at his wrists “Oww, shit…you’re hurting me!”

“Like I care.” He snarled “Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

That predatory look was back on his face and you knew you were in for it again, and your apologetic front flew completely from your mind. Like hell you were doing this without a fight.

“Fuck you.” You spat back.

“Hard way it is.” He shrugged.

His hand tightening around your hair, he manhandled you into the middle of the bed easily. You yelled, bucked, lashed out but as with the previous night you were simply no match for him. He easily pinned you down with his knees clamped either side of your hips, holding you in place as he yanked your sweater over your head, pulling it down your arms so they were pinned behind you back. It was uncomfortable but did the job perfectly you realised to your horror, because you couldn’t move your arms at all.

Ransom then moved, his large hands grabbing at the button on your waistband and you continued to struggle, trying to buck your hips but once more to no avail. He had your jeans and panties down to your knees easily, before he flipped you over so your face was pushed into the pillow where it muffled your screams slightly. 

One hand reached up, sliding round the front of your neck and he squeezed. This time it was harder than he had done earlier that day, and the pressure increased and increased, slowly shutting off your airway. You gasped, tears stinging in your eye as you desperately tried to move but it was pointless. Then, suddenly he eased off, and you drew in a harsh gasp of air, coughing and spluttering, still conscious that his fingers remained around your throat.

“Stop fighting it.” He instructed, his other hand sliding over your entrance, making you pull away from his touch, but to no avail as the hand that was on your throat slid down your spine and twisted the sweater, tightening your make shift restraints, jerking your arms even further behind your back. Your upper arms and shoulders screamed in protest and you let out a little sob of pain as he moved both his hands to your hips, tugging them up slightly. One hand trailed over your ass before he plunged two fingers into you and you jerked forward at the intrusion. Ransom groaned before he leaned over, his lips brushing your ear. “I can feel you. Your body doesn’t lie, Sweetheart.”

You turned your head away, pressing your cheek into the pillow and Ransom uncurled himself from over you and you felt him shift behind you. The tell-tale clanking of a belt buckle, followed by a zip and the rustling of fabric told you exactly what was coming. Despite your resolve to give him nothing, a choked whimper escaped your mouth and you turned you face, pressing it further into the pillow in an attempt to stifle your sobs.

“Oh no…” he said, one hand curling into your braid, yanking hard and jerking your head back. You cried out, your body was contorted in such an unnatural shape, back arched, arms pinned behind your spine, head jerked back. “I wanna hear you.”

He shuffled a little, and you felt the top of his cock teasing your entrance and then without warning he powered forward, stuffing you full, letting out a rumble of a growl as he did so.

“So fucking tight…” he grit out as he withdrew, then plunged straight back in, jerking your body as he did so. He took a few more deep, slow thrusts before he picked up the pace and began to piston into you, relentlessly. You felt each thrust, the slap of his balls slamming towards your clit. It hurt, just as it had done last time. He had zero self-control, grunting and growling as he bottomed out with every motion. The hand that was gripping your hip went beyond bruising, his dull nails biting at your skin as the other wound tighter around your braid, the odd angle of your body gritting at your joints. You were fighting tears and sobs as your body continued to betray you, soaking your walls, allowing his cock to slide in and out effortlessly. The hand against your hip glided along your side as a deep thrust came and you could feel it grip your breast between the mattress. His thumb brushing against your nipple through your bra. The friction of his piston thrusts, his hand forcing your bralete against your nipples and the yank of your hair was driving your body into sensory overload and filled you with burning sensations that verged on painful. The tip of his cock scrapped at your insides, no doubt bruising you. Your tears burned and your throat begged with dry thirst.

“Can feel you, Sweetheart…” he groaned, as he bottomed out, rotating his hips slightly making you cry out involuntarily “You feel close…you sound close…such a needy little slut.”

“I’m not a slut…” you sob, the feeble protest sounding as pathetic as you felt.

"Fucking look like one to me..." he growled, his hips rotating again, the burn in your stomach was now getting to hard to ignore. “Please…” you begged, “Just….stop…”

He answered your plea by driving deeper into you, picking up his pace once more and you felt yourself beginning to tumble.

"Oh God," the words flew from your mouth as your body shook violently and you took on your overload of orgasm and sensory extremes. You sobbed as your body betrayed you again with this man. Your mind screaming for understanding, your insides begging for more.

“Fuck…Sweetheart…” Ransom let out a groan as he picked up the pace, before after a few more deep thrusts, the hand that was holding your hair let go. Your head fell forward as you felt the warm ribbons of his come streak up your back before he released his hold on your hip and you collapsed onto the bed, your heart and self-respect shattered.

Every inch of your body ached thanks to the way you’d been contorted and as you lay still, trying to regain some control of your limbs you felt his hands press either side of your head and gave a sob as he leaned lean over your body, his ears brushing your lips.

“I'll take you like that every fucking day if I have to until you give in. Because you will.”

At that the feel of his chest that had been pressing into your back was gone and you heard a rustle of clothing and then footsteps across the floor before the door opened and his deep baritone filled the room once more.

“I would shackle you but I don’t think we need that anymore. You’re not going anywhere.” His tone was almost playful, like he was toying with you, teasing you. “I suggest you take a bath, you’re gonna be sore. That is, once you manage to work your way out of that sweater.”

And with a click followed by the familiar sliding of bolts you were sealed in your prison and you finally gave in to your tears as the sheer helplessness of your situation crashed over you in waves.

****

Part 3

[bebepac]

Ri-Liamo de Bergerac (Happy birthday Zoehanji )

Happy birthday @zoehanji​ !!!!!

Original Post date: 04/27/21 at 9:52PM EST  (4/28 where you are celebrating your birthday!!!) 

I have no idea when we started talking but we did, somewhere in the beginning of my writing journey on this site.  Even though I still consider myself to be a beginner here. Thank you for being my friend and being a fellow long distance cousin, as our relative in common would be Drama Whore!  Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha   🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I hope you enjoy this.  I know that Fast Forward has always been one of your favorites.  

The Book:  TRH and Beyond

Pairing: Liam x Riley  /  Maxwell x Taylor  (Maxwell x F!OC)

Warnings:  Sexual Innuendo  and fluff. 

Word Count:  1889

Summary:  Maxwell and Taylor go on their first date.  Both are nervous and ask Liam and Riley for an assist.  

A/N:  This is a little similar version of Cyrano de Bergerac, not in the take that someone has a big nose, no one does, but the aspect of someone getting help in a conversation by using someone else’s words.  I did ask around to see if anyone had done something similar to this.  No one recalled of a similar story, so any similarities to anything currently on the fandom is completely unintentional.  

I also used @theworldofprompts  prompt: "All my life I've been searching for an answer as to where I belong. Then I met you and everything changed. You treated me like I deserved to be treated and you made me feel like I had a home. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you." which will appear in bold.  

Song inspiration for this.  I heard this song while i was desperately needing to calm down while i was listening to the calm station on my pandora and I came across this song and enjoyed it so, so here it is for you all to enjoy too. I feel like it has a little sweet nervous energy, but then the music builds like you’re getting used to being with someone. it’s truly a beautiful piece.  

First Love by Yiruma 

I don’t own rights to the music. But i’m quickly becoming a Yiruma fan.  Every song was amazing that i heard today and it had such a unique feel.  I could pick them when they started playing on pandora.  

Riley raised her eyebrow at Maxwell. She saw him pacing nervously as he kept glancing in Taylor's direction. Taylor was completely oblivious as she had her nose buried in a book she'd gotten from the estate library.

Finally Maxwell had psyched himself up. He walked over to Taylor sitting in the lawn chair next to her.

"Hey Softie."

Taylor put down her book, as did Ellie as she was sharing the oversized lounge chair in the sun with Taylor. Both lifted their sunglasses to their hair.  

"Lord Playlist?"

"So I was wondering if you want to have dinner tonight."

"Silly Uncle Maxwell, we eat dinner every night."  Ellie confirmed matter of factly.

"What Riley Jr. said."  Both Taylor and Ellie picked up their books again, sliding their glasses back to cover their eyes.

Riley laughed to herself.  Oh my God Taylor she thought. She is absolutely adorably clueless. 

Liam laughed softly.  He gently rubbed Riley's stomach.

"Aren't you glad we're married? We don't  have to do that."

"You were never like that."

Liam blushed.  "I felt like that when I talked to you the first time. I don't even remember what I said on the street to you. I was so dumbfounded by your beauty."

"You don't remember me being so awkward, Liam?"  

Liam shook his head. "You… were perfect, is all I remember, My Love."

A light blush hit Max's cheeks.  

"What I meant Softie, was you and me alone, away from the estate."

Taylor slowly lowered the book again, her eyes slowly meeting Maxwell’s.

"So like a date?"

"I mean date is a strong word, but it could be an accurate one. Two people dressed nicely eating food together at the same table. I mean I'm not opposed to the idea if you are."

"Auntie Taylor likes food, and to dress nicely. You should see Auntie Taylor's dress for the ball. I picked it!!!!!"

"Excuse me Miss Crown Princess read your book."

"So… whaddya say Softie? Dinner tonight?"

"Sure. Riley Jr. nailed it pretty much."  

"Great! I'll meet you out front at seven."

Great."

"I swear this baby likes to just sit in there and poke my bladder for fun." Riley tried to roll out of the lounge chair she was on. “A little help Liam?”

Liam immediately jumped up to assist Riley to her feet.  

"You just went thirty minutes ago."

"You tell your daughter that."

Liam affectionately rubbed her stomach, kneeling to plant a soft kiss on it.

"Little One be nice to Mommy. She has kept you safe all this time and we still have a few weeks to go. Let Mommy relax.."

Riley had stepped out of the lavatory only a few steps when Taylor descended on her like a ninja.

"Jesus Christ! Taylor you almost scared the crap out of me, and the way this baby has my bodily functions out of whack it could have legit happened!!!"

“Ew. Riley. Gross.  Another reason I won’t procreate.  Did you see, Maxwell asked me out!!!! On a date!!!!"

Riley laughed.  "Because he likes you, and you like him."

"What are we going to talk about alone?!?!"

"You guys talk, and you are texting back and forth all the time."

"We talk in a group Riley. All Me and Maxwell do via text is meme war each other."

“Huh?”

"Our whole texting conversation… nothing but memes!!!"

She swiped on Maxwell's conversation in her phone it was nothing but pictures.

"It's okay, I'll get an ear piece set  from Nico, and help you.”

“You’d do that for me?”  

“Of course I would.  Can’t have your first date with the guy you like nothing but uncomfortable dead air.”  

“Thanks Ri.  Can you keep this between us?”

“Sure! Do you need help picking an outfit for tonight?"

"Nope, with the outfit, you kind of already did when you gave me my new wardrobe. If I can’t pick from there, I’m truly an idiot."

Little did Riley and Taylor know Maxwell and Liam were having a similar conversation.

“Liam I didn’t think she would really say yes!!!  She said yes!!!! She said yes…..” 

Then it looked like the gravity of the situation crashed into him.  Maxwell looked like he was about to hyperventilate.  

“Calm down Maxwell.  Taylor likes you.  It’s easy to tell from the trained eye.  She lets down her guard around you.”  

“What are we going to talk about?  I can’t talk about peacocks all night.  Or Memes. She’ll think I'm a complete buffoon.   I don’t even have reservations anywhere.  I asked her on a nice date and I don’t even have reservations ANYWHERE!!!! What am i going to do?!?!?!

Liam grabbed Maxwell by the shoulders.  “Get a hold of yourself man!!!!  And take a breath, your face is turning blue.”  

Maxwell took a few cleansing breaths.  

“Don’t worry about the reservations, I can handle that.  It’s good you are friends with the King and Queen.  And for conversation I can got it.  I’ll get an earpiece from Bastien, and you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t tell Riley.  She still hasn’t let go about the fact of my baby hippo tattoo.”

“Nor will I thank you for reminding me of it.”  Liam laughed loudly.  

Maxwell and Taylor left on their date.   Both Liam and Riley made excuses to not be in the other’s company for the evening.  

Both Liam and Riley were pleasantly surprised being a whisper in someone’s ear how well the night was going.  Both couldn’t stop thinking about how natural the moments between the two of them felt, and how perfect they were for each other.  

“I can’t tell you enough Taylor how beautiful you look to me tonight.  And I know you’ve had trouble seeing yourself that way when it comes to that word. But you are Taylor.”  

She heard her sister softly gasp.   Tears filled Riley’s eyes.    

Tell him Thank you, and that you wanted to look nice…. For him.”

Taylor parroted her words.

Taylor starred at the menu. None of it was in English and she had no idea what any of it meant.

I wish I had your eyes right now Riley. Taylor thought.  

The conversation was sweet and romantic. It was the perfect date.   Maxwell reached across the table taking Taylor’s hand.  

“Would you like to dance?”

“Yes.”    

As they danced,  Taylor started relaxing in Maxwell’s arms.  

“You know I have a hard time sharing my emotions sometimes. All the time..”  

“I know. And that’s okay.  We can take this slow.  There’s no rush Softie.”  

This felt familiar to Liam..  Too familiar.  He knew those words…..her words.

Riley felt the same way but she couldn’t be sure.  

Both had gotten up from their desks to investigate to see what the other was up to.  

Taylor had never felt like a moment was so perfect and what Riley said, she really felt in her heart.

"All my life I've been searching for an answer as to where I belong. Then I met you and everything changed. You treated me like I deserved to be treated and you made me feel like I had a home. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you."

“Riley?”  But she had the feeling, it wasn’t Maxwell’s question.

Taylor pulled away from Maxwell.

“Liam?”  

Liam and Riley stared at each other in the hallway.  

He touched her ear feeling her ear piece and she touched his, feeling the same. 

“I knew it was you.” They both said in unison.

“I could feel your heart Riley, through the words even though it wasn’t you saying them.”  

“I could feel you too.”  

From the earpieces they could hear Liam and Riley kissing and the sounds of commotion.

“Bedroom, now?”  Liam's voice deep, rumbling with desire and need.

“YES LIAM!" Riley cried out.

"OH GOD!" Taylor shrieked.

Both Maxwell and Taylor ripped out their earpieces.  

“Well that escalated quickly.”  Max cleared his throat looking at their earpieces that were laying on the table.  “Won’t be using those for the rest of the evening.” 

“Why did you think you needed help on the date Maxwell?”

“Because I’m awkward, when I’m around you.”  

“No you’re not.  You’re funny, and really nice.  I’m the awkward one. I don’t know how to do this normally.  I’ve never had a healthy romantic relationship before.”  

“That’s okay.  I haven’t been in many relationships before either.  We can learn together.”  

“So can I be honest with you?  I have no clue what the hell I ordered.  This place is nice but it’s too much for me.  I’m guessing it was Liam’s idea?  Can we go somewhere else?”

“I know just the place.”  

Maxwell and Taylor left that restaurant, and when they got to the second place, Taylor’s smile widened.  

“Now stop me Softie if you’ve ever heard this one,  a dashing noble wearing a squid tie with an affinity for peacocks, and a Queen of Cordonia lookalike walk into a bar…….”

Date one for Maxwell and Taylor part two was them dressed up like they were going to the ball, eating burgers and drinking cheap Cordonian Beer, playing pool.  And it was perfect.. For them.

No. Dead. Air.  Conversation flowed easily between the pair.

“Wow.  I can’t believe the earpiece stayed in.”  

“You don’t think they heard anything did they?”  

“I’m sure they probably took them out.”  

"Can I ask you something?"

He could hear the slight sadness in Riley's voice. "Sure, you can ask me anything."

"Do you think I'm cool?"

Liam laughed out loud but abruptly stopped when he saw the look on Riley's face.

"Of course you are Riley."

"Then why is Ellie my sister's shadow right now?  Why do I feel like she wants nothing to do with me?"

"Riley… it's not that. This pregnancy has been rough on you.  You know how active our children are, and how active you were with them. Even while you were pregnant.  Well….Taylor fills that spot  for what you aren't physically able to do right now. Before it was me. I think you notice it more now because it is her.. But yes, it is clear Ellie adores Taylor. They have bonded and really love each other. “

"It was just so hard when I came back from California  Liam. She hated me."

"She didn't. She loved you, and it was my doing that put a wedge between you and her. She was hurting Riley. I did that to her. Not you. I’m sorry for that."

“It’s okay Liam.”  

*^*^*^*^*^*  Breakfast next day *^*^*^*^*^*^*

“How was dinner last night Taylor?”  Riley asked.

“It was great.  We went for Burgers and beers.”  

“That’s nice.”  

Liam lightly cleared his throat.

“So……..”

“We didn’t hear anything.  We both ripped our ear pieces out when we heard where things were heading.”  

“Riley you’re about to pop, how is that even aerodynamically possible right now?!?!?!”  

“Oh it’s possible!”  Liam chuckled.  “God yes it’s possible.”

“Taylor it’s like when the amusement park is about to close and you want to get on your favorite ride one last time.  Even if you’ve had too much food and you’re full and you might throw up.  You got to get on that ride one more time.”

“You went to a carnival Mommy?”  

“No, she just went on a royal scepter ride. God did I say that out loud?”  Taylor slapped her hand over her mouth.

“Oh my God!!! Can we change the subject now please?”  Liam inquired, beads of sweat were forming on his face.    

“Yes please because this conversation went incredibly awkward!”

Riley laughed looking around the table.  The adults looked like they wanted to climb out of their skins and her children looked either confused or unaware of what was happening.

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[what-is-your-plan-today]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 2

Co-Written with @southerngracela​

Summary: After your ordeal at the hands of Ransom, you’re not sure that things can get any worse. Famous last words….

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this is Part 2 to our submission for @jtargaryen18​ ‘s Haunted House 2020  Challenge. Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Series Masterlist. 

With his pride wounded, Ransom drank himself to sleep that night, his mind plotting and scheming of more ways to make his point clear. She was his now and nothing was going to change that. He'd decided it might be time to let her in on his secrets and breakfast seemed as good a time as any and, as such, presented her with a plate of bacon and toast along with a cup of coffee to wash it down. He didn't cook, not well anyway, his preference being diner out or order in. He supposed if this was his new normal, he'd have to learn a new skill. He cringed just slightly at the thought of such domesticity. 

When you heard the locks turn, your belly dropped out. You were shocked to see him, afraid of what was coming your way. If the events from the previous night were any indication, you had to steel yourself to once again fight back. Your tired eyes took him in. A plate and mug in his hands, jeans over his long legs, boots on his feet. Broad shoulders covered by a white ribbed long sleeve thermal shirt, eyes cold and distant, arrogant smirk over his lips. A smirk of your own barely parted your lips as you took note of the now pink lines adorning his right cheek, courtesy of your nails biting at his skin in the attack. You turned away from him, your body instinctively curling in on itself, chain stopping you from balling up completely when he approached. Your mouth watered at the smell of the bacon and coffee. You were hungry but your body fought to ignore the pangs, offering him that satisfaction.

 "I'm not hungry," you managed, desperately irritated at how weak you sounded. 

"Starve then," he set the plate and mug on the nightstand at your bedside. He stood rooted there, arms crossed over his chest. 

"People are gonna be looking for me, you know," you point out, sitting up a little more, confidence growing by the second. 

“You don’t think I’ve already thought of that?” His hands moved from across his chest to his hips. 

As you looked at him, that maddening smug look present on his face it suddenly dawned on you that he might have been more calculating than you’d imagined. And then you understood. You figured out what the connection between him and the actor you’d been supposedly meeting was. None. None whatsoever, except that Lucas Lee had been easy, collateral damage. "You set him up," your brow rose and shock filled your voice. "Lucas Lee... You set him up. What the hell did you do?" 

"Sweetheart, the guy's a complete tool, he walked right into it and he'll walk right out. Just a couple of hours of questioning and he'll be let go," Ransom shrugged as if this were nothing. 

"You're disgusting," you seethe. This arrogant asshole used someone just to get to you and he was PROUD of it. You didn't know what you expected, but the notion of the reality was appalling.

"You don't know the half of it," he winked.

"You're never going to get away with this," you managed to threaten. The look in his eyes caught your breath as he leaned in close, hands on the mattress on either side of your hips. 

"I killed Fran, got away with that. I nearly killed Marta, same story," he said, popping a shoulder up. "The point is, Sweetheart, I'm that good, they'll never find you."

"My family, my friends…they'll go to the police. Mick, my boss, he'll want to know where I am after not showing up today. You can't possibly have thought of everything," you shook your head as you wondered just how long he'd been plotting this. You’d only met the asshole a few months ago, interviewed him for a couple of hours max and then released the article days later. How on earth had that transpired into this utter shirt-show? The thoughts were spiraling so fast in your mind, it was dizzying. 

"Your boss got an email this morning saying you no longer wanted to work for him, and as for your family and friends, well let’s just say I know where they are. I know your little sister's routine. I know the time your mom walks your dog, and that she does it alone.” Ransom continued and you felt the cold course through your body “You do as I say, and they're safe. If not, well, I can pick them off, one, by one, without even getting my hands dirty," he pulled back, standing over you. "So many criminal junkies in Boston, Sweetheart. Plenty who will take the fall for a little hit,” and with that he turned on his heel and walked to the door. 

The true reality of your situation set in and you felt sick to your stomach, despite your hunger. You felt clammy and overwhelmingly dizzy. He had you. If he'd gone this far, followed your family, set up a well-known actor, plotted this entire plan down to how to convince Mick you quit, in a scary short amount of time, just to get to you, you were fully trapped. 

"What happens if you lock me down here...and something happens to you?” Worry laced your words. 

He turned over his shoulder, "I don't give a fuck." And he slammed the door, the sound of the locks echoing in your room. 

In a gut reaction you grabbed the plate of food at threw it at the door where it shattered into pieces, the bacon and toast falling to the floor with it. You screamed as you threw it, for if you hadn't you'd have vomited where you led. 

**** Ransom heard the scream and the smash of the plate and paused half way up the stairs. He took a deep breath, contemplating going back down and teaching Y/N some damned manners before he decided to leave it. He’d given her enough to think about for the time being, and besides, he didn’t want to lower himself to delivering another slap to her face like he had done last night. In all honesty, he hadn’t been expecting the site of the bruise on her right cheek to unsettle him as much as it had done. Her pretty face shouldn’t be marked in anyway, and looking at it had simply reminded him how he’d lost control. Of all the things he’d done, he’d never hit a woman before, despite murder and attempted murder. It left a bad taste in his mouth all things considered and a nasty twist in his gut that felt almost like guilt. But it wasn’t guilt, that wasn’t something he did either…no, it was the fact that in all of his actions, even the diabolical ones, he’d remained calm and in control. Until last night. He’d been feral, wild even, and it wasn’t a feeling he relished. But she’d pushed him to it, provoked him. It was her fault, not his.

He shrugged on his coat and grabbed his keys, before he headed out, locking the door and climbing into his black Mercedes SUV. God he missed his beamer, but this was a lot less conspicuous, just as he needed at the moment. He slipped his sunglasses on to shield his eyes against the bright fall sun and set off towards the City.

His mother was already seated and waiting for him when he arrived at the Harbor. He walked over to her table, pulling off his sunglasses and sliding them into the pocket of his camel coat, removing his trademark silk scarf as he went. He handed them off to the help showing him to his seat, asking him to bring him a beer, and sat across from Linda, who was watching him carefully as she lounged back in her seat, properly dressed as ever in a crisp pair of black trousers and a white long sleeved silk blouse. With her legs crossed, she cut quite the imposing figure, but not to him.

Ransom greeted her with a stiff nod and she frowned and gestured to his face.

“What on earth have you done to your cheek?” she questioned, clearly noticing the scratch marks. Ransom hesitated for a second, “Things got a little rough last night, ” he shrugged but his smirk didn't quite reach his eyes. Linda let out a slight groan as she grimaced “Jesus Ransom, I don’t want to know about your sordid little bedroom antics,” she scalded. “Then don’t ask, Mother,” He drawled, not missing a beat.

“Oh believe me, I wish I hadn't.” Linda rolled her eyes.

Ransom looked down at the menu that was on the table in front of him, giving it a cursory glance already knowing what he was ordering, the same as he always did when he was here, before he took a deep breath and raised his eyes to his mother. She wasn’t one for small talk, and neither was he, so he decided to get straight to the point.

“Why are we here?” he demanded “I mean, aside from the obvious guilt driven task of having lunch with your son.” “If you're going to be a spoiled brat why did you even agree to meet me?” Linda shot back and Ransom smirked.

“What was it you always told me mom? No matter how rich you are, never turn down a free meal.”

“Snarky smart ass” Linda retorted and it was his turn to snort as her brow furrowed.

“Now, now Mother. Those frown lines are getting worse” he arched an eyebrow and she glared at him before she sighed.

“I wanted to see how you were, is that so hard to believe.” “In a word, yes.” He shrugged.

“Well, it’s true.” She reached for her glass of wine and took a sip. “I've not seen you since you moved house.”

Ransom rolled his eyes, Jesus he didn’t have time for this shit. He took a deep breath and looked at her as she eyed him expectantly, waiting for his answer “Just fine. I'm enjoying my new place.”

“So, you like it then?” Linda set her glass down and leaned back once more. “I must admit when it came on our books I thought it would suit you.”

“It's different than Kenoak, less modern, but it does the job” he said vaguely and saw her body language stiffen.

“If you don’t like it why did you buy it Ransom?” her tone was exasperated and he had to fight back the grin that was threatening to spread across his face at the fact he was riling her. It was always so damned easy.

“Well, my last place had kinda turned into a bit of a media circus.”

“Yeah, I expect that’s what happens when you're involved in a homicide” she snapped back.

“Say it a bit louder.” Ransom deadpanned “I don’t think they heard you over by the bar.”

“Believe me, that wasn’t intentional.” she held his gaze “Your Granddad’s death isn't something I find funny, Ransom. Not that it ever occurred to you."

Ransom sighed. He was starting to get annoyed under her scrutiny and really wasn’t in the mood for a deep dive into the events of the past year.

“Not of sound mind, Mother.” He said, his voice a little softer as he reminded her of the argument his brief had made which had ensured his acquittal from his crimes, hoping it would shut her up. “Remember?”

“I know son, I know.” Linda leaned over and gently lay her hand on his where it rested on the table. Ransom took a deep breath and shifted in his seat. Physical affection from her always made him uncomfortable as he wasn’t used to it, but for some reason it was heightened in that moment. He sat and pondered for a second on what he had just said. His brief had spun the line about him being under emotional duress due to his granddad cutting him out of his will and whilst there was an element of truth in it, he’d been of perfect mental capacity when he’d enacted his plan. But, if it helped his mother believe that her only son isn’t a monster then…whatever. He pulled his hand back from her and she sighed, clearly mistaking his discomfort for guilt.

 “You know, you used to be such an affectionate little boy, Ransom.” Linda looked at her hand as if his rebuttal had burned her before she shook her head and reached once more for her drink. “I often wonder where your dad and I went wrong.”

Ok, so this he could deal with. The reminder that he was a constant disappointment.

 “Hard to say.” He snarked “Somewhere between boarding school and Harvard maybe?”

She rolled her eyes “We did what we thought was best.” She set her now empty glass down. “Clearly in hindsight...”

Ransom was saved from her self-indulgent moment of soul searching by the waiter who set his beer down in front of him and asked if they were ready to order. Ransom gestured to his mother who asked for the house salad with a side of tempura prawns whilst he went for his usual, fillet steak with all the trimmings. It was obnoxiously expensive but what the hell, like he cared. Especially not when his Mother was paying...

He took a long pull from his beer as the waiter topped his mother’s glass up from the bottle that stood in the ice bucket next to their table before she thanked him and he disappeared.

“You’ve not asked me how your father is.” Linda looked at Ransom who narrowed his eyes. Why does she care about that? But, deciding it was as good a conversation change as any he shrugged.

“How's Richard?”

Linda rolled her eyes but for the first time since he arrived he noticed a little smirk flicker on her lips before she looked at him. “He’s still your dad Ransom" she reminded.

“Ok, how is my dearest dad? Still fucking the 30 year old au-pair?”

“Yes, apparently, he's taking her to the villa.”

Now that did make him frown. The Villa that they owned in Lake Gada was his mother’s pride and joy.

“Seriously? You're just gonna let him do that?” Ransom’s tone was surprised.

“I have no choice.” Linda took a deep breath “Our divorce isn't final and he's contesting me keeping the property. It's not as cut and dry as one would assume despite his infidelity, numerous infidelities even.”

“He signed a pre-nup, Mom.” Ransom reminded her and Linda nodded.

“I know, but the Villa wasn't part of it. It's the one thing he can hold over me and he's doing just that.” She took a sip of her drink and snorted “Dumb bastard has nothing so he figures why not try his luck here. Fact is, he gets nothing else.”

“Good.”  Ransom retorted, a little viciously and Linda eyed himself shrewdly.

“Careful Ransom, you almost sound like you care.” She smirked and he rolled his eyes, not gracing her with an answer. “Anyway, what are you doing with yourself these days?” she moved the conversation on “And I don't mean with women as we've already established when you sat down. Any hobbies or God forbid a job prospect I should know about?” “Aside from my love life, I’m actually writing mother, believe it or not.” He responded, amused at the visible look of shock that crossed her face.

“You're....writing?” her mouth dropped open before she hastily shut it.

“Don't sound too surprised, Linda,” Ransom let out a low chuckle as his mother rolled her eyes at his use of her name. “Granddad always said I had a flare for it. Just-” he paused for a moment before he shrugged “-well, I guess I never really used it much.”

Linda cocked her head to the side as she considered him for a moment before her face softened and once more Ransom felt uncomfortable at her change in demeanour. “He'd be proud of you. I suppose it's what he's always wanted for you, to find something for yourself.”

And there it was. The reminder that he was nothing but a trust fund prick, with no future and nothing of his own to live off. He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth slightly before he responded with a false air of nonchalance.

“I see that now.”

“Good. I'm pleased you do Son.” Linda nodded. “I'm not glad about how it all went down but...well, as dad used to say, things have a strange way of working out in the end.” It was a funny choice of words, Ransom thought, but before he had chance to dwell on it anymore their food arrived. The conversation slowed a little as they both ate, growing a little stilted in places as he told her vaguely what his writing project was about- a private detective- go figure. Linda moaned about more about his father, and then she dropped something casually into the conversation that really did surprise him, that they were planning a memorial for Harlan. 

"When?" he frowned, swallowing a mouthful of potato.

“The end of this month, possibly the first week in December. It'll be after Thanksgiving.” Linda waved her hand before she paused, hesitating a little as if she was deliberating whether or not to tell him this next bit. And when she did, he fully realised why. “It was Marta’s idea.” The mere mention of that name was enough to get his hackles up and he took a deep breath, the nerve in his jaw twitching. He looked at his mother as she watched him carefully before he looked away and took a drink of his beer. “Hmmm” was all he could muster.

“Hmmm? What's Hmm, Ransom?” Linda looked at him.

“I figured with Harlan gone she'd be out of our lives.” He shrugged, feeling his neck grow hot. That bitch was responsible for all of this in the first place, the reason he was done out of his inheritance. If she hadn’t got her claws into him none of his would have happened.

“Yes, well, as much as it sticks in my throat that she got everything maybe if we play ball she'll come round to actually giving us all what we're owed.” Linda shrugged “And that aside...it will be nice to remember him.”

The rest of the lunch passed with simple conversation, Ransom steering it well away from the subject of his family. When they’d finished his mother, as predicted, picked up the tab and together they headed outside to wait for the Valet to fetch their vehicles. His mother’s arrived first and she turned to him, the pair of them engaging in the awkward, stilted kissing of the cheeks before she promised him his quarterly check from his shares in her company should land next week. With a nod and a thanks he bid her good bye and a few moments later climbed into his own car and set off back home.

***** With a yell you sat bolt upright, taking a moment to get your bearings as you emerged from the troubled sleep you had fallen back into. Yes, you were still here, in Drysdale’s fucking basement. The tears stung your eyes as you lay back, taking some deep breaths as you attempted to ebb the panic which was setting in. Your situation was disgusting and dire, you were trapped and therefore, you knew you needed to ask for the things you needed, not wanted, just simply needed, or in time, Hugh could add you to his notch post of growing murder victims. The question was, exactly how far could you push him for anything? One wrong move, as you'd learned last night, and you'd be regretting ever uttering a syllable. But you refused to go quietly, you'd be further letting yourself down if you did. You didn't have it in you. However, just how dangerous he was or could be now was no longer lost on you, you had the physical reminder in the biting sting of your cheek, throbbing and tenderness you felt between your legs, and the slight bruising around your wrists where he had pinned them above your head. You hadn’t examined the rest of your body to see what damage he’d done, you didn’t want to.

You ached all over from being led or sat on this damned bed since you’d arrived. The chain attaching you to the bed post wasn’t long enough to allow you to stand up and stretch our your aching limbs so for now you had to settle for attempting to massage some feeling back into your calves, your eyes casting over the various tears and ladders in your thick tights which you’d pulled back up last night with trembling hands after he had violated you.

The door clicked open and your head jerked towards the door as you scrambled higher up the bed, pressing your back into the headboard. You watched as your captor strode in, a packet of Biscoff in his hand pausing as his foot crunched over the shattered remnants of the plate that you’d hurled at the door. He looked up at you, raising an eyebrow, as if he'd forgotten he'd heard you throw it this morning. 

“I don’t like cleaning up messes” He said simply as he stepped over it, shutting the door with his foot.

“Pity you killed the house keeper then” you glared at him as he shoved another cookie into his mouth.

“Who, Fran?” he asked with a scoff, his voice muffled by his food.

“How many other house keepers have you killed?” you shot back and he gave a snort.

“None.” Ransom shrugged nonchalantly “But for your information, Fran was a useless dimwit. She only cared about two things. Drugs and getting paid.”

You frowned, was that supposed to justify his actions in some way? He too only cared about getting paid and what money could do for him. “And you care about what exactly other than yourself?” you shot back. He looked at you, a smirk crossing his handsome face as she shoved yet another cookie into his mouth, chewing slowly.

At that point your stomach growled with hunger, just another way your body had betrayed since you since you had arrived and you tore your face from his, turning it to the side.

“Now are you hungry?” he asked as you realised that was probably the bastard’s plan all along. With a deep sigh you looked back at him.

“Can I have one?” you asked meekly.

Ransom studied you for a moment, tongue poking at his cheek, before he strode towards the bed and offered you the packet. You took one and stuffed it straight into your mouth.

“No thank you?”

“Piss off.” You shot back automatically, swallowing your cookie.

His good demeanour ebbed slightly as an irritated look flashed across his face. “Don’t push me, Sweetheart.” his voice was low as he sank onto the side of the bed, looking at you “I think your situation is precarious enough as it is, don’t you?”

You merely glared at him, you had no comeback. There was no comeback. He was right.

“Now if I make you something proper to eat are you gonna take it or throw it at the door again?” he raised his eyebrows “Because, frankly, you starving yourself is of no real concern to me except I kinda think you’re gonna need to keep your strength up.”

It didn’t take a genius to work out exactly what for. But you were so hungry, and the battle inside you raged on before your self-preservation mode won out and you hung your head slightly, looking at the comforter you were led on. “I’ll eat.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Ransom smirked again.

“No.” you replied, your voice devoid of emotion. “Can I have some water too?”

“As long as you don’t throw the glass.”

“I’m thirsty.” You replied simply “I won’t.”

He nodded and stood up, offering you the packet of cookies “Have those for now.”

“Thank you.” You took them from him, your tone a little sarcastic, your eyes rolling as you spoke. He looked at you and for a moment you were worried he was about to do something about your response but he simply gave a huff of laughter and turned to leave.

“I’ll be back shortly.” He said, closing the door behind him. 

You could no longer bite back the sigh of delight as you took another of the buttery spiced cookies into your mouth. It was rich on your tongue but it was food and you were so hungry. What you wouldn't do for a cup of coffee to go with. You surveyed the room as you chewed the Biscoff thoughtfully. The earlier despair you’d felt upon waking just before he had re-appeared was slowly giving way to determination as you realised that for now practicality had to win you over. Not only did you need sustenance and water, which you knew was on the way, you also needed clothing and access to the bathroom, which you now realized you were desperate for.

So now what, you thought to yourself. The fact that he was willing to feed you despite the fact you’d launched your morning’s meal against the door meant he didn't want you dead. Mind you, if he did you wouldn’t have made it out of that fucking dilapidated house so, just what kind of a game was he playing at here? You weren't sure what his end game was if it didn't mean your certain death. You just didn't understand and felt the struggle of thoughts seep into your mind as you contemplated each step. He doesn't want you dead, but you're locked up, chained up and he's obliterated your body by force. And that was only the first round. So far he's voiced his hell bent plan on keeping you here and making you suffer. And he's done a right job at it after just the first night. He couldn't keep this up for the rest of your life, could he? No, you didn't think, but he's gone as far as to know your every day, your family's every day, detail for detail. It couldn't possibly be for ironically a ransom, no, he had plenty of money still and if you were certain, his mother was still finding ways to slip him allowances and he'd managed to get a small chunk under the table and off the record from your publishers on your behalf. So no, it wasn't for money. Did he expect a better and firm, more sincere apology? Well he sure as shit wasn't going to get one now. Stupid, spoiled fuck. You outwardly scoff at the thought. What does he want that you have? The endgame is unknown but you were in the long game now, that much was apparent. You just had to not walk into verbal traps and wait for him to reveal his hand. But you guessed just by the times you've previously had with Hugh Ransom Drysdale that his hand wouldn't be revealed until he held the right cards.

True to his word Ransom came back what couldn't have been more than 15 minutes later. He handed you a plate containing a simple turkey sandwich, a bag of chips and a plastic bottle of water. “Just in case you get any ideas about smashing it and doing me in…” he said, placing it down.

“Murder is your speciality, not mine” you snarked back biting into your sandwich as the hunger you felt won out over the need to pee that you’d felt before. It was actually pretty good. The bread was fresh, the meat succulent, both more than likely from a deli and not a bog standard store. You ate eagerly, Ransom settled in the arm chair in the corner of the room by the low coffee table, his eyes watching you. You ignored him, concentrating on your food.

“So…” you said as you stuffed the last of your sandwich into your mouth “Are you gonna keep me down here?”

“Yup” he said simply, popping the P.

You swallowed and grabbed the water, cracking the top open and draining half of it in one, your hand trembling slightly. Thankfully you avoided spilling any. You screwed the top on and placed it back on the night stand and watched with horror as he rose from his seat and crossed towards you, sitting on the side of the bed

“So, because I don’t want anything to fuck up what we got here, sweetheart, I have a simple question which you’re gonna answer.” Ransom said, looking at you “Are you on birth-control?”

Your mouth dropped open as you glared at him.

“What the fuck?” you stuttered

“It’s a simple question that requires a yes or no answer.” His expression hadn’t changed, not one bit. Cool, calm and collected, like this was something he would simply ask anyone. As you stared at his smug face, your puzzlement at the seemingly straight outta left field question gave way to anger. He was asking you this, like it was his damned right to know, like he was your fucking boyfriend by choice.

“You tell me, I mean you thought of everything or so you took great pleasure in telling me last night.” You spat. Quick as a flash his hand grabbed your face, his fingers gripping your chin painfully and you let out a little whimper.

“Answer the question.” He said simply

And then you realised, it wasn’t really that out of left field at all was it? It was clear following last night what his intention for you was and like he’d want the added complication of any little surprises turning up in around 9 months. You swallowed, your eyes looked down

“Yes” you whispered, and he released your face.

“Good.” Ransom nodded “Makes things a lot easier.” “I’m not a sex toy, Hugh.” You glared at him and he looked back at you, giving a snort.

“You’ll be whatever I want you to be.” “You’re an asshole.”

“So it’s been said.” He shrugged simply, like he didn’t give a shit. Which, as you realised, he probably didn’t. People like him never did care what they came across like, arrogant trust fund prick.

With a sigh you pinched the bridge of your nose and glanced around the room you were in, as if you really hadn't paid much attention to it's details before. Ironically, if you weren’t here under duress it would actually be quite nice. The bed was large and comfy, there was a reasonably big bathroom attached which from what you could make out contained a fairly nice sized bath tub and a separate walk in shower cubicle. There was what looked like a built in closet next to the bathroom door, a night stand which contained a reading lamp to your right and on the opposite wall to the bed in front of you there was a dresser and a small shelf fixed to the wall a little higher, which was empty. To the left of the room was a large, plush armchair behind which another lamp was fixed to the wall and a fancy oak coffee table which matched the rest of the furniture. Above the chair, was a porthole like window, hexagonal in shape, but high enough to not allow for escape but for the warmth of daylight to seep into the space. 

A fucking studio apartment, that half of Boston would probably kill to own…and you were trapped in it. Well, certainly until you could think of a way to un-trap yourself so to speak.

You looked back at him and decided to keep pressing your luck a little. There were things you needed, starting with the bathroom, and you were damned if you were going to let him degrade you even more than he already had by letting you piss yourself.

“There are things I’m going to need.” You spoke, taking care to keep your voice neutral, attempting to avoid outwardly displaying the desperation you were feeling “A pee and a shower for one” you gestured with your head to the small bathroom.

“Well if you’re gonna behave, I’ll undo this.” He reached down and jangled the chain that was attached to the shackle round your ankle.

“Clothes too…”

“The closet is full.” He said simply “But you have to behave, Sweetheart, or you go right back on the chain.

You grit your teeth. Sweetheart, you were no more his sweetheart than he was Harlan’s favorite grandchild. “Like I have a choice.”

“You do.” He said simply “Behave or not.”

You let out a frustrated growl “I told you I was gonna, now just undo the fucking dog collar on my ankle.”

“Ooh, so feisty.” Ransom mocked and you glared at him.

With a chuckle he stood up and pulled the key out of his pocket, undoing the shackle round your ankle and stood back slightly. You moved and shuffled to the edge of the bed where he watched as you rose to your legs. However, after the ordeal you’d been through the night before, plus your no doubt whacky blood sugar level, your head span a little and you staggered forward. Ransom caught you, both his hands hooking under your arms as he helped you steady yourself, his touch surprisingly gentle as his hands slid down to your ribs, thumbs brushing underneath your breasts and you looked at him, blinking. His action had caught you off guard and if the look on his face was anything to go by it had caught him off guard too. There was a moment where you stood still before you remembered exactly what was going on and with an angry scoff you raised both your hands, palms flat on his chest and shoved him as hard as you could.

It didn’t move him much, a half a step back or so, but it was enough to make a point. The unexpected softness on his face turned to anger and a split second later his right hand was round your throat.

“I'm warning you…” he snarled, his large fingers flexing causing his grip to tighten, around your throat. He gave a sharp squeeze, not enough to cut off your airway, instead serving as a threat, telling you he could if he wanted to. He released his grip as the tears stung your eyes and he moved aside to allow you to move to the bathroom. You went as quickly as you could and once you were there you made to shut the door.

Only there wasn’t one. “Why the fuck is there no door?” you turned and faced him.

“Because I won’t clean up a dead body.” He shrugged “So before you get any dumb ideas, anything that could make you think about a means to an end isn’t in this room either.”

You looked at him, frowning before you realised what he meant and you shook your head. “Oh trust me, I’m not about to kill myself over you.”

“Good.” He said simply, “You have 10 minutes” he said, leaning on the frame where the door should have been.

“You’re not watching me pee, Hugh!”

At that his face darkened “Call me Hugh one more time, I dare you, Sweetheart.” His voice was laced with venom as his eyes flashed dangerously, but despite all that you couldn’t help yourself. It was the only weapon you had in your arsenal to deploy.

“Hugh.” you spat, raising an eyebrow.

His jaw clenched and in two large strides he was on you, his hand grabbing your forearm as he yanked you across the bathroom, your feet skidding on the tiles as you struggled for traction on the floor. You yelled out at the pain of his grip but no sooner had it started it stopped as he flung you unceremoniously into the shower cubicle. Your knees and hip collided painfully with the tray and you gave a scream as a torrent of freezing cold water hit you, soaking your sweater dress. You gasped and spluttered, struggling to your feet, the cold making your chest contract and he looked at you, his face back to its stony calm expression.

“10 minutes” he repeated.

He turned to go and in a fit of rage you peeled the icy, sodden jersey dress off and flung it at him. It hit him square in the back before it slid to the floor, splattering on the tiles in a sopping mess. You saw him take a deep breath, his broad shoulders rippling under his thermal ribbed top as he stood up square and turned to face you as you stood, teeth chattering in the still cold spray in nothing but your bra and laddered thermal tights.

“You’re really testing my patience, Sweetheart.” He intoned darkly, before he cocked an eyebrow “9 and a half minutes.” He left the bathroom and headed into the main room, and you turned away instantly cranking up the heat on the shower. As it warmed you through, the water beating down on you, you reached for the shower gel which was on a small shelf in the corner of the cubicle. You scrubbed and scrubbed, not caring how much you used, attempting to rid yourself of the dirty feeling of him as you recalled his hands all over you, his cock violating you in the way it had. You didn’t stop the tears falling, your resolve breaking, as you turned your face into the spray, allowing it to hide your tears, before you washed your hair in the shampoo and conditioner.  Eventually, when you’d done everything you could, you turned off the water, took a deep breath and squeezed your hair out before stepping out of the shower. Your eyes instinctively went to the doorway and you were relieved. You couldn’t see Ransom, which meant he didn’t have an eye-line directly into the shower, awarding you some level of privacy at least.

You grabbed a towel which you wrapped around yourself, before you took another and used it to squeeze your hair before you pulled it back into a messy bun out of the way, and stepped out of the bathroom.

 “That was 11 minutes.” Ransom said simply as you emerged into the main area of the basement “I’ll let the 90 seconds slide.”

You glared at him as he sat in the armchair, his broad frame filling it, right leg crossed over his left, an I don't give a fuck look about his face, and you knew at that moment you had never hated anyone more in your life than you hated him right then. You turned towards the closet and began to route through, the tears filling your eyes again as you concentrated on finding something to wear. You pulled a few things out, checking the tags. Not only did the prices shock you (it was all high end, designer stuff- what else would the spoilt, trust fund prick buy) but it was all your size. Which unnerved you no end. Pushing that to the back of your mind, as after all in the situation you were in it was the least of your worries, eventually you settled on a simple pale blue cashmere sweater, and a pair of jeans.

“Underwear?” you turned and looked at him. He nodded to the drawers built into the bottom of the closet and you opened it, taking a breath. Of course it would all be lace, sexy. You picked the most modest pair of black, lace French-style briefs you could find and the matching bra, tossing the lot onto the bed. You looked at him, cocking your eyebrow and he mimicked the action, gesturing with his hand.

“Don’t mind me.” The dismay washed over you as you realised what he meant and you took a deep breath “You’re gonna sit there and watch?”

“Yup.” He replied simply, popping the p loudly.

You bowed your head, knowing there was no point turning your back on him, he’d just force you to turn round. As you stared to pat yourself dry though your towel, you blinked back the tears as for some reason this felt far more humiliating and degrading that what he’d done to you last night.

****

Ransom wasn’t sure he’d ever exercised self-control like this, he normally just bought (or took) what he wanted, and before he’d wanted nothing more than to trace the beads of water which moved down her neck and back, collecting in the towel as she rifled through the closet. She reached for the panties first, and attempted to shimmy them on under the towel and he gave a click of his tongue.

“Oh no doll.” He smirked, “lose it.”

She glared at him, and he simply held her gaze, not looking away and eventually he saw her shoulder sag as she reached up with a shaking hand and unhooked the edge of the towel which was tucked in on itself and let it fall to the floor. He gave a loud hum of approval as he took her in, her long-lithe legs up to her hips, the curve of her waist, pert breasts and delicate shoulders and collar bone. She swallowed on air and he watched her throat bob, and he instantly found himself thinking how good she’d look swallowing something else. He shifted slightly in his seat, the crotch of his jeans now feeling a little tight thanks to his semi-hard cock, and she reached for the lace briefs stepping into them. As she shimmied them up, her breasts jiggled a little and he gave an inward groan. For a second he thought about stopping her, taking her there and then but now wasn’t the time. They had things to discuss, certain rules she needed to understand.

Plus, the waiting and the anticipation would simply heighten the pleasure later when he finally did fuck her again.

He remained still as she pulled on the rest of the clothes before she turned to him, her cheeks adorably flushed.

“Hairbrush?” she asked.

Ransom nodded to the dresser opposite the bed and she moved over towards it, opening one of the drawers. She reached in and pulled the item out, dragging it through her hair before she braided it quickly and then turned to him expectantly.

“Sit.” He said, gesturing to the bed. She did as she was told, sinking down onto the edge of it, her hands clasped in her laps, fingers of her right hand pulling at the ones in her left nervously.

“Ok…” he leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees as he looked at her “Here’s how it’s gonna work.”

At his words Y/N looked at him, and then her hands released each other and she folded her arms, crossing her legs on the bed, chewing on her cheek with a sullen look on her face. The look of someone that really didn’t want to listen but had no option.

Such a petulant brat.

“You’re gonna do what I tell you, when I tell you.” Ransom spoke calmly and authoritatively “If I want you, I’m gonna have you.” At that she took a shaky breath but her eyes remained on his as he continued “You behave, you’ll get rewarded. If you don’t, you’ll be punished.”

“Punished?” she sputtered. “What could possibly be a worse punishment than this?” she waved her hand and Ransom allowed himself a chuckle.

Oh, Doll, you have no idea…

“Do you really want to know?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow up.

“No.” she said, hanging her head slightly.

“Smart move.” He nodded.

“Anything else?” she looked back at him, the defiance once more filling her features.

“Yes, don’t call me Hugh.”

At that she smirked and he felt a flash of annoyance “Sorry, am I amusing you?”

“Nope.” She shook her head quickly, the smirk fading as quick as it had appeared.

“Good.” He said, his palms slapping his thighs as he stood up.

“Is that it?”

“For now.” He nodded.

“Do I get to make any rules?”

Ransom hesitated, and looked at her. He had to hand it to her, she was gutsy but that was part of the reason she was hear after all. He shook his head, chuckling slightly “This isn’t a negotiation.”

“Can I ask you for things?”

“I just said, this isn’t a negotiation.” He started to get a little bit irked at her attitude now, “You behave, you get things.”

“So you’re gonna leave me down here with nothing? No TV, no books, no stereo?”

“Behave and I’ll think about it.” He replied simply and when she sighed he knew she understood that arguing and bargaining with him was futile.

Ransom Drysdale bargained with no one.

“You know…” he said, stepping towards the bed and she instantly took a deep breath, shying away a little. The fact he had so much power over her was exhilarating and he smiled, stopping a foot or so away from the edge of the bed, his large frame towering over her. “I should shackle you again, for your back chatting and slapping me in the back with your wet clothes but I’m fair. I’ll let that go. I hadn’t explained my rules.”

She blinked up at him and he nodded towards the bathroom. “Put your dirty stuff in the hamper. I’ll be back later.”

As he strode towards the door he could have sworn he heard her mumble something, something that sounded suspiciously like she’d called him a prick. He stopped, smirking, before he fixed a hard look on his face and turned round.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” She said quickly

“Thought not.” He nodded, and with that he turned and left, locking the numerous bolts on the door behind him.

**** With a lack of anything else to do you cleaned up the water from the bathroom floor and tossed everything into the hamper like you’d been told to do and then, taking advantage of your new found “freedom” so to speak you set about exploring every single nook and cranny of your ‘cell’. You found the bathroom was fully stocked with all sorts of toiletries, sanitary products (fuck, you didn’t even want to think about what he was going to do to get his sordid little kicks when Aunt Flow came to visit in 3 weeks or so), there was a little make up as well in the drawer in the vanity unit that you’d spotted before and you pulled it out to examine it, once again finding it to be not your usual brand but high end all the same. Finding all this was only compounding your confusion as to what the hell his goal was in all this, but as you had realised before until he decided to show you those cards, you would simply be playing a guessing game.

In the drawers under your bed you found a few different sets of linen which was a relief as it meant you weren’t going to be at his mercy as to when you could change your bedding. Given what had happened the night before, you were half tempted to change them again but you hesitated and decided to wait until later, because you had a sinking feeling he was going to take you again, especially given his declaration earlier.

“If I want you, I’m gonna have you.”

If that was how your life was going to go for the foreseeable, you’d be going through a hell of a lot of bedding if you changed it every time he fucked you. Much more than was contained in the drawers anyway.

Pushing that horrible thought from your head, you took a deep breath, focussing on staying calm, staying collected, staying alive. She needed her wits, her strength, her continued ability of self preservation. And, given the fact that he's murdered before, you weren't entirely trusting his word of not wanting to kill you. You closed the drawers and then settled yourself down on the floor at the side of the bed nearest the arm chair and low coffee table indulging in a few yoga stretches and the like in an attempt to ease out your still aching muscles. You were sat on the floor, with your legs extended, reaching for your toes when he came back and with a little smirk on his face handed you a book.

“For the boredom.”

You blinked and then took it from him, shaking your head as you realised it was one of his granddads, most likely his idea of a joke. And what was more it was one you’d already read.

Nevertheless, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you thanked him and then stood up and dropped into the chair, opening the cover. How long had passed you had no idea, but you were a good few chapters on when the trust fund ass wipe re-emerged, and the smell of food wafted across the room. He set a tray down on the bed and jerked his head towards it, in a silent instruction for you to vacate the seat. With a roll of your eyes you tried to get comfortable on the bed to eat with said tray balanced on your knee and with an exasperated groan you looked at him.

“Is there any chance of getting some form of table and chair so I can eat off it and not where I’m expected to sleep?”

He looked at you for a second, before he shrugged “I’ll think about it, depending on how you behave.”

The chicken was dry, but you ate it anyway, remembering your earlier thoughts about staying strong. As you chewed you watched him where he sat in the chair in the corner of the room, looking at something on his phone. Having had time to think things over even more, you knew you needed to play this clever, get him on your side, let him believe that you could be trusted if you wanted to stand any chance of getting out of here. With a deep breath you supressed the desire you had to simply remain silent, sullen even and spoke.

“Are you not eating?” you asked him and he looked at you, surprise on his face.

“I had a big lunch.” He responded simply.

“Well I hope it was better than this.” You arranged your face into the best playful look you could muster “Because, no offence, it sucks.”

Ransom looked at you, before he snorted “Yeah, cooking isn’t my forte.”

“Maybe I could do it.” You offered “I’m not a bad chef.”

His eyes locked on yours and you concentrated on keeping the look on your face innocent as he studied you. Eventually he spoke again “Maybe. If you behave.”

Again, the focus on your behaviour. He clearly wanted you to be good, compliant maybe. Bolstered by the slight progress you were making into maybe understanding what you needed to do you continued. “So, did you go anywhere nice? For lunch I mean.”

“The Harbor.” He responded “Food was good, company was slightly irritating.”

“Company?” the surprise in your tone was genuine

“I met my mother.”

“Oh.” You replied, looking back down at the plate as you blinked back the tears, the thought of your own mother filling your head. She would be beside herself now. You took a deep breath, you might be able to be compliant but you were damned if you were going to show him any weakness, that’s what he wanted. Instead, you took another bite of your meal and looked up at him. “That must have been nice for you.”

“Is that sarcasm?” Ransom asked in an amused tone and you rolled your eyes.

“No, I was being serious. Mind you, you don’t strike me as being close to your family so…” you shrugged and shovelled a soggy piece of broccoli into your mouth.

“You’re smart, we're not.” He shrugged “But she wanted to know how I was getting on.”

“Bet that conversation was positively riveting.” You smirked “And that was sarcasm by the way.”

Ransom scoffed “It wasn’t bad to be honest, that was until she steered it around to Marta.”

“Marta?” you frowned, pondering what on earth could have brought their conversation around to that. “Why did you talk about her?”

“What is this Jeopardy?” he arched an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes. “Why not, I'll take Drysdale family politics for my share of the inheritance, Alec…”

“Watch your mouth, Sweetheart.” His tone was warning and his face stony. You swallowed and looked down at the plate.

“Sorry.” You said, keeping up your act. Silence fell again and you finished the last of your dinner and set the tray on the nightstand.

Ransom took a deep breath “Seeing as you’re so interested, Marta has approached my mother and the family about holding a memorial for Harlan.” You looked at him, and his eyebrows raised. “Ironic huh, the bitch who stole what was mine is planning a memorial for my grandad when she’s responsible for his death.”

At that you scoffed, he really was unbelievable and just like that your resolve to be nice started to ebb away at his utter narcissism “Are you for real? You’re responsible for Harlan’s death, and as for taking what was yours, you never had anything, none of you did! It was Harlan’s, you didn’t earn it.” Ransom glowered at you but you continued, shaking your head with a derisive laugh. “You know, the fact he would rather leave it to his nurse than his own family says more about you all than it does about her."

“What did you just say?” His voice was low, and there was an unmistakable flash of anger on his face.

“You heard me. Not that I expect any of that to bother you, Hugh, you do and take what you want anyway and fuck whoever gets hurt in the crossfire…” at that you gestured around the room, “prime example…”

There was a pause and in an instance you realised your mistake. You’d called him inadequate and worse, had broken one of those fucking rules, called him Hugh. His whole demeanour had changed, he was pissed. His jaw was set, his eyes dark, his entire body rigid.

Shit.

In a flash he was off the chair. You reacted equally as quick, jumping off the bed in an attempt to put some distance in between you. Why, you had no idea, it wasn’t like you were going to stop him, but maybe if you could buy some time you could talk him down as you backed toward the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” but your apology was cut off as he rounded the bed, grabbing your hair painfully, yanking your braid down so your head was tilted back, looking at him. You let out a scream of pain and moved your hands to grab at his wrists “Oww, shit…you’re hurting me!”

“Like I care.” He snarled “Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

That predatory look was back on his face and you knew you were in for it again, and your apologetic front flew completely from your mind. Like hell you were doing this without a fight.

“Fuck you.” You spat back.

“Hard way it is.” He shrugged.

His hand tightening around your hair, he manhandled you into the middle of the bed easily. You yelled, bucked, lashed out but as with the previous night you were simply no match for him. He easily pinned you down with his knees clamped either side of your hips, holding you in place as he yanked your sweater over your head, pulling it down your arms so they were pinned behind you back. It was uncomfortable but did the job perfectly you realised to your horror, because you couldn’t move your arms at all.

Ransom then moved, his large hands grabbing at the button on your waistband and you continued to struggle, trying to buck your hips but once more to no avail. He had your jeans and panties down to your knees easily, before he flipped you over so your face was pushed into the pillow where it muffled your screams slightly. 

One hand reached up, sliding round the front of your neck and he squeezed. This time it was harder than he had done earlier that day, and the pressure increased and increased, slowly shutting off your airway. You gasped, tears stinging in your eye as you desperately tried to move but it was pointless. Then, suddenly he eased off, and you drew in a harsh gasp of air, coughing and spluttering, still conscious that his fingers remained around your throat.

“Stop fighting it.” He instructed, his other hand sliding over your entrance, making you pull away from his touch, but to no avail as the hand that was on your throat slid down your spine and twisted the sweater, tightening your make shift restraints, jerking your arms even further behind your back. Your upper arms and shoulders screamed in protest and you let out a little sob of pain as he moved both his hands to your hips, tugging them up slightly. One hand trailed over your ass before he plunged two fingers into you and you jerked forward at the intrusion. Ransom groaned before he leaned over, his lips brushing your ear. “I can feel you. Your body doesn’t lie, Sweetheart.”

You turned your head away, pressing your cheek into the pillow and Ransom uncurled himself from over you and you felt him shift behind you. The tell-tale clanking of a belt buckle, followed by a zip and the rustling of fabric told you exactly what was coming. Despite your resolve to give him nothing, a choked whimper escaped your mouth and you turned you face, pressing it further into the pillow in an attempt to stifle your sobs.

“Oh no…” he said, one hand curling into your braid, yanking hard and jerking your head back. You cried out, your body was contorted in such an unnatural shape, back arched, arms pinned behind your spine, head jerked back. “I wanna hear you.”

He shuffled a little, and you felt the top of his cock teasing your entrance and then without warning he powered forward, stuffing you full, letting out a rumble of a growl as he did so.

“So fucking tight…” he grit out as he withdrew, then plunged straight back in, jerking your body as he did so. He took a few more deep, slow thrusts before he picked up the pace and began to piston into you, relentlessly. You felt each thrust, the slap of his balls slamming towards your clit. It hurt, just as it had done last time. He had zero self-control, grunting and growling as he bottomed out with every motion. The hand that was gripping your hip went beyond bruising, his dull nails biting at your skin as the other wound tighter around your braid, the odd angle of your body gritting at your joints. You were fighting tears and sobs as your body continued to betray you, soaking your walls, allowing his cock to slide in and out effortlessly. The hand against your hip glided along your side as a deep thrust came and you could feel it grip your breast between the mattress. His thumb brushing against your nipple through your bra. The friction of his piston thrusts, his hand forcing your bralete against your nipples and the yank of your hair was driving your body into sensory overload and filled you with burning sensations that verged on painful. The tip of his cock scrapped at your insides, no doubt bruising you. Your tears burned and your throat begged with dry thirst.

“Can feel you, Sweetheart…” he groaned, as he bottomed out, rotating his hips slightly making you cry out involuntarily “You feel close…you sound close…such a needy little slut.”

“I’m not a slut…” you sob, the feeble protest sounding as pathetic as you felt.

"Fucking look like one to me..." he growled, his hips rotating again, the burn in your stomach was now getting to hard to ignore. “Please…” you begged, “Just….stop…”

He answered your plea by driving deeper into you, picking up his pace once more and you felt yourself beginning to tumble.

"Oh God," the words flew from your mouth as your body shook violently and you took on your overload of orgasm and sensory extremes. You sobbed as your body betrayed you again with this man. Your mind screaming for understanding, your insides begging for more.

“Fuck…Sweetheart…” Ransom let out a groan as he picked up the pace, before after a few more deep thrusts, the hand that was holding your hair let go. Your head fell forward as you felt the warm ribbons of his come streak up your back before he released his hold on your hip and you collapsed onto the bed, your heart and self-respect shattered.

Every inch of your body ached thanks to the way you’d been contorted and as you lay still, trying to regain some control of your limbs you felt his hands press either side of your head and gave a sob as he leaned lean over your body, his ears brushing your lips.

“I'll take you like that every fucking day if I have to until you give in. Because you will.”

At that the feel of his chest that had been pressing into your back was gone and you heard a rustle of clothing and then footsteps across the floor before the door opened and his deep baritone filled the room once more.

“I would shackle you but I don’t think we need that anymore. You’re not going anywhere.” His tone was almost playful, like he was toying with you, teasing you. “I suggest you take a bath, you’re gonna be sore. That is, once you manage to work your way out of that sweater.”

And with a click followed by the familiar sliding of bolts you were sealed in your prison and you finally gave in to your tears as the sheer helplessness of your situation crashed over you in waves.

[atsukashii]

❝back again❞ // k. bakugou

SYNOPSIS: ➛ When pro hero ground zero destroys your shop trying to take down a villain, you don’t hesitate to curse him out. What you don’t expect though, is for him to come back again the next day. 

» CHARACTER PAIRING: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

» WORD COUNT: 5K cause I have no self control

» GENRE: pro-hero!katsuki, aged up characters

» WARNINGS: swearing of course, fluff, fluff, and oop surprise more fluff,

» PROMPT: lilac - “if you don’t kiss me right this second i swear”

« masterlist || ao3 »

Anonymous: can i get uuuuhh ‘lilas’ with pretty boy katsuki 🥺💕💕

a/n: hell yes you can! I went a bit overboard with this request but I hope you love it! Also i’m running off the non-canon idea that Katsuki’s hero name is Ground Zero here.

Pro Hero Ground-Zero is an asshole. He’s an attractive one, but an asshole nonetheless. The explosive blonde was the hero on patrol this morning, when a villain decided to attack some old lady in the middle of the street. Ground Zero fought the villain and left behind a crater in his wake. One you are currently staring at, steam almost coming out of your ears. Because that crater consisted of half of your flower shop.

Are you fucking kidding me? You hear the news reporters behind you, talking to their cameramen about what went down on this normally quiet street. 

“This morning, Pro Hero Ground Zero successfully defeated a villain known to police as ‘FrostBite’. The villain has been responsible for many civilian attacks recently, he’s been linked to a heist just three days ago, which saw the criminals get away with over fourteen thousand…” You tune out the reporter's voice as you step back into your shop, through the gaping hole that was once your front exterior wall. Great, this is so fucking what I needed right now, you think. 

This whole shit fest is the icing on an already bad cupcake. It started when a woman had come into the store just last week, complaining about your goods. Which caused such a ruckus that an inspector was called, only for him to find some bullshit excuse that had stopped you from selling coffee’s in your hybrid cafe/flower shop momentarily. Add on top of that the fact that you are currently in your final semester of university and you’re about to sit your final exams in literally three days.  The word stressed does not even come close to describing your inner turmoil right now.

“-and here he is now! Ground Zero! Can you give us any information about what happened today?” The reporter asks.

“A villain got what he fucking deserved, the end.” A deep voice says from behind you, and you just know it’s him. Clenching your fists, you resist the urge to turn around and scream at the man. What about what you deserved? You look around your store once more and stifle a whimper at all the damage; crumbling walls, plants scattered across the floor, pots shattered and your precious neon sign. Broken. You kneel down and pick up the now dull yellow neon light and feel your eyes begin to sting. This shop had been your dream since you were a little girl, and now it was torn apart by a villain.

“I do my job, and I do it well. Write that in your fucking paper.” The hero reiterates again. Pure fury floods your brain until you are seeing red. Spinning around, your eyes focus onto the battered hero and the flawless reporter, and suddenly, all you want to do is scream. Your mouth begins moving before your brain can follow and say it's a bad idea. 

“You do your job well?!” You hiss at them. Everyone’s attention moves from the asshole hero to you, your apron covered in dirt and rubble from when your front wall crumbled right in front of you, because a villain was physically thrown through it.

“You destroyed my store!” Ground Zero’s face flushes red in anger as he stares at you with his scarlet eyes. If you weren’t so mad, you could maybe appreciate how handsome he is, but currently you can see too much damage - expensive damage - to even think like that.

“That villain was a threat to society, he got what he deserved. You should be thanking me, you damn extra!”

“Thanking you? You left a DAMN HOLE IN MY FUCKING STORE!” You scream at Ground Zero. “And what about what I deserve? I don’t deserve to have to pay for all of these fucking damages that you caused!” The anger seeps out of you as you look at the small crowd around your store, gawking at you. You can’t imagine that this is a normal response for heroes to get from civilians. What a mess…

“Y/n!” A voice interrupts the crowd and you look to the right where someone is pushing through the mass of people slowly, to get into the store. The second your best friend & work colleague see’s the damage, she lets out a sad sigh and looks your way.

“Oh sweety…” you hold up your hand, making them stop from walking in. 

“There’s broken glass everywhere. Let me clean up first,” You whisper, suddenly ashamed of your outburst. Ground Zero had been doing a civil duty, and you’d just jumped on his case about the damage he caused? Good one y/n, real smooth. Turning your back on the hero and the crowd, you weave around smashed pots and dead plants, reaching behind the counter for the broom you keep there and begin to sweep up the mess. You can hear the group begin to disperse, but can’t get rid of the feeling that someone is watching you. Looking over your shoulder, your eyes lock onto the vermilion gaze of the upcoming hero, known for his brash attitude towards reporters. Your breath catches in your throat as his intense stare seems to look into you more deeply than anyone ever has. Like he’s analysing your very being and everything about you. You shift away from him, grabbing the plastic rubbish bags you leave next to the till for the frequent mishaps that happen in your store, and you get to cleaning.

What a mess.

❀ ❀ ❀

 For the past two nights since your shop was damaged, you’ve been crashing with your best friend who deemed it unsafe for you to stay at your apartment located above the partially destroyed store. You didn’t have the energy to argue against them at the time, so now as you walk down the main street towards your shop, you’re thinking about how strange it is that you need to travel to get to work. At least it's a sunny day, so surely this has to mean something good... You hope. 

But as you round the corner convenience store on your block, you stop in your tracks. In front of your pathetically boarded up store, stands a tall man in black jeans and a matching jumper, the hood pulled up over his head. Because that’s not suspicious at all. Unfortunately, he’s leaning up against your front door, so you’re going to have to at least ask him to move.

“Uh, excuse me?” His head whips towards you, and your gaze immediately locks onto the ash blonde hair that peeks out from under the hood, and the matching eyebrows partially hidden by his dark sunglasses. It’s him, Ground Zero. Here. At my store. You don’t have the drive like you did the other day to be mad, so instead you keep walking towards your store with a raised eyebrow aimed at the pro hero. 

“Shouldn’t you be patrolling somewhere Ground Zero?” You ask the man as you approach. He shifts away from the door, but doesn’t move far, allowing you to use your keys to unlock it. Not that locking the door would do anything to deter intruders considering there’s a fucking hole where the almost floor to ceiling windows once stood. 

“It’s my day off.” Now that you’re not overcome with rage towards the man, you can appreciate the deep tone to his voice. One so alluring it sends chills down your spine. Do not go there, seriously y/n. No, it doesn't matter that you’re not mad, he’s still an ass.

“Good for you.” You mutter, before stepping through the doorway. You had cleaned up a lot of the debris from the room over the past two days, but the council wouldn’t let you begin working on the wall until today, as they had to deem it still structurally sound before you went around doing things. Hopefully, if all went well, you would have the shop open again in less than two weeks. 

You notice that the further you walk into Daisy Chains, the hero follows. You place your bag on the till and round to face him, leaning your weight against the wooden counter.

“Are you here to mug me or something?” What use did a pro hero have to you? What use did he have coming here either?

“I’m a fucking hero dumbass, its literally my job to detain people who do that.” He growls, his vermilion gaze forming a scowl that really shouldn’t be attractive on him, but somehow is.

“Well how am I supposed to know? First, you damage my shop, then show up in all black, glaring at me and following me into an empty store?” You challenge, meeting his intense glare straight on. If he thinks he’s intimidating you like this, well he’s right. But, you’re not going to let him know that.

“I’m here to help.” His voice echoes throughout the dead quiet store. For a moment, all you can do is blink at the somewhat stranger. He lets out a growl at you that has you steeling your spine.

“You kick up such a fuss about your fucking store, then what? Don’t want help when it's handed to you?” Ground Zero barks at you, bringing you out of your stupor.

“I’m just surprised is all.” Your honesty makes him pause. “But if you’re serious, I’ll take the offer. It wouldn’t hurt to have another set of hands.” You’re not an idiot, you know you’ve got a lot of work to do in order to get the shop back up and running, and considering you’re not the only employee here and it's your livelihood, you need it up and running as soon as possible. 

“The contractor says it's going to take about two weeks.” You comment.

“Then we’ll do it in one. I’ve only got a few days off, so we need to get this done soon.” Ground Zero replies with a blank expression, before getting up off his spot of leaning against the wall. You can’t help but admire his determination, especially to fix something he may have helped cause. A lot of hero’s you know wouldn’t even have bothered to come back for this, it was just another ‘ casualty of the job’. But for some reason Ground Zero did, and you weren’t about to look the gift horse in the mouth. 

“If i’m going to have a stranger help me out for the next couple of days, don’t I have the right to know their name?” You ask, walking forward towards him. He straightens up at your approaching figure - as if going on the defensive, and you notice as you come to a stop that he’s quite a bit taller than you. His nose would touch your forehead if he bent forward, no wonder he wasn’t intimidated by me when you yelled at him the other day. 

“Y/n Y/l/n, proud owner of Daisy Chains.” Sticking out your hand, Ground Zero looks between your eyes and your hand for a moment before reaching forward and gripping it.

“Katsuki Bakugou, also known as Ground Zero.” He introduces, shaking your hand. You can’t help but notice how calloused it is compared to your own. Well he literally works with his hands due to that explosive quirk of his.

“Katsuki Bakugou…” You breathe, testing the words out on your tongue. You glare half-heartedly at Katsuki, “I still don’t like you.” You finish, pulling your hand away from the blonde. He huffs at you and scowls. 

“The feelings fucking mutual. Let’s get this shit done.” Katsuki orders, pushing up the sleeves of his hooded jumper and walks over to the boarded up wall, grabbing a hammer as he moves. He’s definitely determined, that's for sure. One however, can also describe Katsuki as elegant. You observe the way that he moves; every motion fluid with a sort of grace you wouldn’t have pinned with someone like him. He yanks of his hood as he begins to pull the nails out of the wooden beams. Strong too. Unfortunately, his sweater hides his defined biceps that you know are there due to seeing him the other day in his hero costume and you - nope, stop right there. Shaking your head to clear your wandering thoughts, you reach over to the tool kit your best friend brought over for you to borrow and follow Katsuki’s lead and begin ripping down the wood.

With two sets of hands, things get done much faster than you had originally thought it would. You had ripped out the hastily put up wood, and began to demolish the rest of the damaged structure like the contractors had marked out for you. Due to being too poor to afford builders, you had planned to do the whole thing yourself, so as much as you hated to admit it, Katsuki’s presence was actually a major help. Not like you’d tell him that anyways. By the time it was five thirty that evening, you had already begun to put up the interior wall structure. Katsuki somehow knew what the hell he was doing, and barely had to look at the tips the contractor wrote down for you. When you had questioned him, he’d just barked at you to mind your own dang business, and proceeded to pout like a child for the next hour. Some of your neighbours had brought some temporary fencing to put across the front of the store to try and stop people from getting in during the day - and you had thanked them profusely as they waved it off. Because you were only twenty one, the owners of the shops either side of you had taken you under their wings so to speak. The old lady who ran the bakery next door often ‘made too much’ bread and gave some to you, and you in response 'accidentally ordered too many of her favourite roses’ so they’d go to waste if she didn’t take them. And when they’d seen Katsuki, he’d just huffed and managed to find something to do on the opposite side of the store. He’s a strange one that Ground Zero. 

As the sky kept darkening, you look from the star speckled darkness slowly settling outside to your watch and decide to call it a day. Reaching over your head, you groan as your muscles pull tightly and ache from all the labour. 

“I think we should call it a day Katsuki.” You yawn, looking over to the blonde who has already started to pack up the tools. He glances at you when he’s done, and dusts his hands on his black jeans. 

“I’ll be here tomorrow at eight. Don’t be fucking late or I’ll break in the door to get in.” Katsuki promises, before pushing out said door. 

“I won’t pay for that damage!” You call after him, watching as his shoulders tense in annoyance at your words. Holding in your laugh, you observe as he pulls his hood over his head and stalks down the street, slipping into the shadows like he’s made of them. You let out a sigh and lean back against the counter, suddenly feeling much more optimistic about your store and its progress now that Katsuki’s helping.

He definitely is a strange one. 

For the next three days, your progress clicks like clockwork. Arriving at eight am and leaving at seven when it gets too dark and you’re both too tired to do much more, the store is slowly coming back together. Last night, you’d even ordered take out and actually had a civilised meal together. Sitting on the floor of Daisy Chains, you’d both eaten gyūdon, conversing in innocent small talk whilst you gaped at the hot sauce that Katsuki kept adding to his food. He had smirked at your expression, which then resulted in a two hour Q&A with pro hero Ground Zero. Where you learnt that he absolutely loves spicy food, likes mountain climbing of all things, and can actually cook - which you only learnt because he called the food bland and was offended when you sassed saying that he couldn’t do any better. Apparently, he can. It was a weird experience, getting to know Katsuki as someone other than Ground Zero, Pro Hero destined to be number one - his words of course. It was actually… Nice, talking to him. Your heart jumped around inside your chest like an overexcited child in those moments, just getting to know him and seeing his lips tick up ever so slightly for the first time at a joke you cracked. And you need your heart to stop. You have no reason to feel like this, if anything you should be mad. No, you think. He’s using his days off, things he’s mentioned that he rarely gets, to help you fix something that - yes, he caused damage to, but could have just left alone. 

You let out a sigh at your confused thoughts and dip the paintbrush back into the bucket on the floor. Your feelings towards the confident blonde are perplexing at best. Yet, as you look around the nearly completed store, and the painting you have left to do, you couldn’t help but want him there. Sure, you argue - a lot, but you also really enjoy his company. And no, it wasn’t because around midday every day, he’d shed his jumper and you’d be graced with toned muscles bulging out of his tank singlet. 

Except he had mentioned to you last night that he wasn't coming in today because he was back on patrol. It’s fine really, you have managed to get a lot done today anyways, as a lot of the heavy lifting had already been finished earlier this week. You had given the new wall a coat of primer after the window installation guys had come in and done their job on the brand spanking new windows that made your bank account cry. Having them back in and the wall officially closed in, you were also finally able to move back into your apartment upstairs and off your friends couch, which was a massive relief. 

Dipping your brush back into the paint, you look at the rest of the wall that has to be done. You had decided earlier that you may as well give the rest of the store a bit of a face lift whilst you were at it. Half of it was completed when you had to take a break before you gassed yourself with the paint fumes. Deciding to leave the back door open and turn on the fan, that usually is only made use of in the summertime to attempt to decontaminate the air, but the store still reeked of paint fumes. So you settled on keeping the front door open using a cinder block. It was working, gradually. 

Slowly, the sun set behind the skyscrapers and you are still painting. Letting out a yawn, you carefully paint around the edge of the window frame, trying not to either touch the tape you had previously put down or let any drip onto the paint cloth on the floor. You are so focused on the task that you don’t notice someone has walked into the store until they speak.

“You shouldn’t leave the front door open like that dumbass, some creeper is going to take that as an opportunity to come in.” You let out a terrified scream and the paintbrush flies out of your hand and onto the floor. Placing a hand to your chest to slow your thundering heart, you look to Katsuki who's standing in the middle of the store, arms crossed on his chest, his usual glare ever so intensely settled on you, and still dressed in his hero costume. Good gracious.

“I thought you had patrol?” you ask, not moving an inch. It feels like forever since you’ve seen him in his hero costume, and somehow it looks even better then it did the first time you saw him in it. But your opinion may be biased seeing as you’ve unfortunately found yourself thinking of the hero constantly recently. He’s grown on you, like an annoyingly attractive fungus you can’t seem to get rid of. 

“Just finished up. Thought I would come over here and see how slowly you’ve been going.” He smirks. You almost choke on your saliva as you look at his ticked up lips. Is he…  Teasing me right now? 

“Slow? I’ll have you know that i’m moving much faster today than I have with your help Mr Pro Hero.” You sass, picking up the brush and moving to continue on the wall.

“Obviously, that's why you're still going at this time.” You know he’s only trying to rile you up, but you can’t stop yourself from shooting him a playful glare over your shoulder at him But as you move, you find him no longer standing there. Katsuki’s fishing behind your front counter for something, and you’re about to ask what he’s looking for before he walks towards you, a paintbrush in hand. You blink at him as he stands next to you, dips the new brush in the paint and begins to pick up where you left off.

Your brain can’t seem to comprehend that he’s here, when he said he was super busy, in his hero costume, helping you paint. You’re unsure as to how long you’ve been standing there staring at him for, until Katsuki looks at you with a frown.

“You better not start fucking slacking now dumbass. I didn’t come here to do it all for you.” He says with a small smile and god what the hell is going on right now? Your cheeks suddenly feel hot and you don’t need to touch them or look in a mirror to know that you’re blushing. Hurriedly, you scramble for your thrown paintbrush, reaching down to the pastel blue liquid that almost looks white and begin to paint. 

The radio plays softly in the background, the only source of noise in the store, and you find yourself bopping your head with the music as you work. Suddenly, when your favourite song comes on, you make a mad scramble to the machine and turn it up loudly, ignoring Katsuki’s protests. Dancing as you walk back to the wall, he’s glaring at you but there's no anger in it. Somehow over the past few days, you’ve managed to finally crack the code that is Katsuki Bakugou, and understand the many meanings of his scowls, glares and unfriendly remarks. And now, as you’re singing along to the song and shuffling towards him with a dorkish grin, he’s one hundred percent amused at your antics. Katsuki doesn’t dance along, or even bop his head, but you can see him mouthing the words ever so slightly, and that's enough. As the last chorus hits, you scream the words out loud, which earns a loud bark of laughter from Katsuki. Mid verse, the climax of your performance, you stop to watch it happen. You know you’ve said things he’s found funny before, because his mouth shifts upwards ever so slightly, followed by him calling you an idiot and turning away. But seeing him laugh, a proper laugh that starts in the belly and spreads happiness through every pore of your body and into those around you, it was so attractive to you. The soft smile he sent you after too was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. For a man normally so harsh and with sharp as fuck features, the gentle look he gave you made your stomach somersault. 

The song was forgotten as you forced yourself to keep on painting until you finally finished. Looking at the clock behind the counter, you smother a yawn as you read the time. 11:16pm. 

Finally, it was all coming together. With only the radio making noise, you and Katsuki tidy up your tools once more and you walk him to the door. He raises an eyebrow as you lean up against the glass door. 

“I moved back upstairs today, so no more couch surfing for me.” You answer his silent question.

“That’s good, I was sick of having to walk you all the way back to your friends place.” Katsuki replies, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He was smart enough to bring a change of clothes with him tonight to change into once he’d dropped blue paint onto his costume and realised that it wasn’t the wisest idea to wear it. So now, he was back in his casual black getup, in the sweater that a part of you so wanted to steal.

“Hey, no one ever asked you to do that, thank you very much.” Scoffing at your words, Katsuki shifts his weight from one leg to another. 

“You’d have never made it there without me.” 

“Whatever makes you sleep at night Mr Pro Hero.” Standing in silence, you suddenly can’t bring yourself to look at him and instead look back inside the store. “Hopefully I’ll have this place open again in a few days,” You say out of nowhere, simply feeling the need to break the silence. 

“That’s good. I might have to come around and actually buy something.” Snapping your head back towards him, you flush from head to toe. Is he flirting with me? You asked yourself...surely not… Why would someone like him flirt with someone like me? But you can’t help but hope that he is.

“If you come around here for any other reason other than to buy something, I swear to god Katsuki.”

“Any other reason?” He challenges, taking a step closer. Your back is pressing into the glass door behind you as your eyes lock onto his scarlet ones. “What if I have a perfectly valid reason?” 

“Does it include breaking things?” You breathe, his face so close now that you can feel his exhale fan across your mouth. Oh my god.

“Not breaking, just stealing something.” He’s whispering, as if speaking too loudly would scare you away like a timid animal. Your heart is about to burst from your chest with anticipation. He’s going to kiss me, he's sooo going to kiss me. And you so want him to.

“You’re going to steal some plants Katsu? That's a bit lame. I thought you were some big shot.” His eyes flicker to life with something you can’t quite place. Teasingly, he looks down at your lips and you swear to god. 

“Hey,” he drawls, “don’t go judging me now y/n.” his hand comes up to your face and brushes a strand of your hair away from your eyes. “Do you give everyone else shit like this after they’ve done you a favour, sweetheart?” 

“Katsuki.” You all but groan, letting logic fly out the door and gripping the front of his sweater. “If you don’t kiss me right this second, I swear-” He doesn’t even let you finish the sentence before he’s cradling your jaw in his hands and crashing your lips together. The two of you collide with such force it knocks the air right from your lungs. Katsuki completely dominates the kiss, which has shocks running down your spine and into the tips of your toes every second it continues. He possesses your very being and you can’t do anything but hold onto him and return it with everything you have in you. Reluctantly, Katsuki pulls away from you, but continues to hold your face captive within his grasp. 

“I-uh…” your brain is no longer functioning and sits with the same potential of goo inside your skull. Smirking at your response, pride swirls inside Katsuki’s eyes.

“Got nothing to say now dumbass?” He jokes, releasing a cheek to brush hair out of your eyes again. You’re pretty sure there's paint in it.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” You manage to ask, deciding that you never want to do anything other than kiss him every day for the rest of your life. This time, Katsuki doesn’t laugh at you, or even smirk. His smug grin morphs into something so soft and rare that you doubt many have ever seen this look on him, and even fewer ever will.

“Only if you agree to go out with me.” Katsuki states. Of course he wouldn’t ask like a regular person. He’s Katsuki fucking Bakugou, pro hero and future number one if he gets his way. He doesn’t have time to beat around the bush.

“It’s almost midnight Katsu.” You point out, which makes him laugh.

“I didn’t mean right now dumbass.”

“Oh.” You feel yourself blush bright bright red, mortified you try to pull your head out of his hands purely out of embarrassment. But Katsuki quickly moves his hands from your face until he’s pulled you tightly against him, your chest flush against his torso, your head craned up to look at him. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” he utter’s before leaning in and kissing you again, this time softly and chastely, so different from the desperate kiss earlier. Suddenly, you’re so glad he exploded into your lift and ruined your shop that day. “You’re getting dinner with me tomorrow night.” He mumbles against your lips.

“Do I have a choice?” You ask, your fingers weaving through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. You feel him smile a feral grin against your lips and try to hold in a smile of your own.

“No.”

“Good, wouldn’t want it any other way Katsu.”

©️ 2021 all rights reserved to atsukashii, do not change, edit, translate, or repost any works on any platform.

[granills]

Careless Whisper {B.H.}

Hey loves, I haven’t written in a loooong time, It seems I just needed a new crush to get back to writing. I missed this feeling so much. So, Billy Hargrove, that’s it. I haven’t finished the 3rd season yet and I felt like writing about this pretty boy. In my story Billy has graduated from school by the time he arrives to Hawkins, and Bob is alive. I posted the first chapter on my wattpad too, nigarrmtvseries.

1. Mars and Other Planets

It didn't take long for summer to show itself after the first hot day in June.

Mars looked out of the window only to find some people loudly talking to each other and hurrying to get back to their homes where they were awaited. A man standing near the curb didn't care much about the heating sun, he was focused on the road. Waiting.

"So hot.. Right when I was thinking about going for a jog." A young woman approached the desk Mars was sitting behind. Mars had gotten carried away with her thoughts, but seeing the woman, smiled to her and started helping her to pack the things she'd picked. Refrigerator magnets, soaps, milk.

"It's officially summer I would say." Mars was working alone today in the store. Joyce asked for a day out to spend more time with her kids and Bob, and Donald only visited from time to time so Melvald's General Store had only one company - Maristela. It was a good day, mostly because of the sun. It calmed her and it also predicted that less people would come to the store, it only made her work easier. Not like the first time.

Joyce Byers was the one who persuaded Donald Melvald to employ a girl in Hawkins, Maristela Crawford who was looking for a summer job. At first Donald disagreed arguing that the girl would leave as soon as summer ends and they would have to look for a replacement. At least that's how Maristela's plan was going until that one day when she received a letter. She knew the letter wouldn't tell her good news and it made it much harder for her.

"We regret to inform you that after reviewing your application..." That's how the letter started and it was bad, she knew it. "...we appreciate that you are interested in our university. Please do apply again next year." Shit. To get out of this shithole by getting accepted into the university in California - that was the plan. As much as she hated to admit it, it seemed the summer job was gonna turn into a permanent job, but to say that she didn't like her job, would be unfair towards her and others. She loved Joyce as her own mother and though the work was tiresome, it was essential one.

It was nearly the end of the day, she was ready to turn the lights off and close the store as soon as possible in order to get home. That's how simple it was, only she didn't know what was about to happen.

She clearly remembered how the last client left as the door behind him closed muffling the sound of the happy kids outside. But it only lasted a few seconds when the glass front door shut loudly accompanying by the voice of two strangers.

"I told you to fucking wait in the car!" The sound was so loud that Mars nearly hit her head while picking up her bag under the desk.

"Mom said I can choose myself!" A girl's voice replied as they headed towards the center aisle. Mars wanted to see who was talking but they only got more distant and she couldn't leave her desk.

The first voice mumbled something in reply. His voice was low, a bit vibrating. If Mars leaned over further the desk, she could've just fallen over it. As much as she tried to see the strangers, she gave up eventually and returned to her seat. All of a sudden she heard the voices were coming closer and looked up. The stranger was standing there comfortably looking at the lights, his appearance was screaming danger. That was only it, danger, but what she didn't know was that something was about to happen that wouldn't have ended good.

The next thing she knew the loud tap of black boots echoed in the store as he approached the desk Mars was sitting behind. Looking at him, he looked just like many of his peers: jeans, a denim jacket, a brown bag, for some reason making her doubt that he carries around his textbooks or homework, a digital watch on his right hand.

He was tall, probably 7 inches taller than her. Heels under his boots helped him look even taller as he walked towards her. His unruly blonde hair perfectly framed his face, the soft curls fell in cinnamon swirls to his face slightly reaching his shoulders. It wasn't long though, part of his hair in front nearly reached his brows in soft messy waves. But still it managed to look completely natural as if he'd woken up like this.

The tops of his jeans held fast by a black leather belt. A pair of rings on his left hand didn't stay unnoticed, as well as a pack of Marlboro cigarettes stuffed into the left pocket of his jacket.

She couldn't see his eyes because of his black sunglasses, it added more confidence to his appearance which was apparently what he'd aimed for. She was scared of him, he just looked like the sort of person who would have asked you for a date and didn't show up. Heartbreaker.

She noticed his silver hoop earring when he stood in front of the desk, his eyes under sunglasses met hers and focused on her for a brief moment before he put a pair of batteries, six pack of beer on the counter. The other stranger whom Mars noticed later appeared to be a school girl with ginger hair, she put the sweets next to other things.

Then, in a second, the tension in the store broke when he finally spoke to her.

"That will be all." He uttered and she was surprised how deep his voice was. If earlier she'd assumed he could be her age, now it seemed she could be pretty wrong. She couldn't recognise the accent, and they could, moreover, be new in this small town. What really puzzled her was the obvious tension between the redhead girl and the guy. Siblings maybe, but they don't look alike.

Mars put down her bag and only nodded before starting to bag their items.

"That will be eleven-twenty one." Mars said, her voice slightly trembling. She didn't notice how he looked at her while putting money on the counter between them. She took it and opened the cash register beside her, the one that Joyce had opened many times, and started counting money to return the change.

The stranger looked at her, corners of his lips turned up, a glint in his eyes. "Keep the change." He said before taking the bag and going to the exit. The redhead girl annoyingly rolled her eyes and went after him.

Mars followed them with her gaze, she noticed how the stranger got in his '79 blue Camaro and lit his cigarette, the smoke dragged into the air and disappeared as he started the car moving over the highway, lights on full beam. And a dangerous driver too.

It was time for Mars to close the store already, but first she wanted to clean up so that Joyce wouldn't get tired the next day. And it's not like she was keen on getting back home, every day seemed the same. She only had her friend and neighbour, Nancy Wheeler, and Rose Jagger, her friend from childhood. They tried to meet often as long as the work allowed, which meant only on weekends, but even then Mars would sometimes work long hours on weekend to make ends meet.

It was a boring job. Especially for a girl who just graduated from school. Most of her peers started working as interns, but that wasn't for her. She thought she'd be better if she continued her studies at the university, away from this town. But dreams don't get along with plans always. In order to get into the university, she needed money, that she understood now.

The list of her tasks wasn't that long. With Joyce's help she managed to do everything: to assist customers, manage the shelves, keep the store clean, operate cash register, take inventory, stock, restock and all the other things that were shifted to their shoulders.

She quickly checked the shelves, making sure products were where they were meant to be, moving them in their original place, as kids would often mess things up. After being done with the floor and the counter, she looked around the clean store and finally sighed in relief. She went back to the counter and started packing her things into her bag, already anticipating how Joyce would be happy to see the work she's done here. For Mars, Joyce was such a sweetheart and she would do anything for her, just like for her mother.

Mars opened the drawer to take the keys, when suddenly the soft sound of steps at the entrance made her look up from her seat.

She looked up, and her breath seemed to stutter in her lungs before she let it go.

The blonde guy with the denim jacket stood in front of the entrance and made a step forward. He stood in front of her, comfortably as if he was at his own house. He had no longer his black sunglasses making it easier for her to focus on his icy blue eyes. And he was alone this time. She couldn't chase away the same thoughts that had gone through her mind earlier. Heartbreaker. Also new thoughts replaced previous ones, she couldn't tell what it was, if his eyes hinted about it, as if he carried all the pain in the world, his blue eyes told about a lifetime of struggle that could never been put into words. He looked like the person who would rather hurt than being hurt.

"I'll have a pack of Marlboro Reds," he simply said. "Please."

Mars raised her eyebrows in surprise. She clearly remembered how one pack of them was hanging in his breast pocket when he'd walked in earlier. Moreover, she just wiped the floors clean and he made it dirty again by walking over it with his boots. The store was closed.

Or it wasn't. Mars regretted not putting the "closed" sign after cleaning the store and got mad even more.

"Can I see your license?" She simply asked, just in the same tone he talked to her.

The blonde stranger only chuckled clearly loving the situation. He reached to his back pocket and took out the license. He held it between his two fingers showing Mars as she leaned over to check his age only to find out that he was the same age as her. William Hargrove.

Mars moved her eyes towards his face and then turned around to open the drawer with cigarettes. She searched the packs behind her longer, not wanting to meet his eyes again, that much he intimidated her.

She then turned back and put the right pack in front of him. He gave her an unreadable glance leaning a bit into the counter. "Can I hear your name? Since you know mine."

She had to meet his baby blues again after his question. He put the money on the counter and took one cigarette out of the pack. Not wasting time, he lighted the cigarette and slowly brought it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers.

"It's Maristela."

"What are you now a goddess or something?" He chuckled.

The name was unique, she agreed. "A star, to be precise. It means "Star of the Sea"."

"Hm." He smoked and Mars just kept staring at him, only seconds later she realised that he was literally smoking in the store and she'd allowed it by not saying anything. It was against the rules.

"No smo-," she recoiled as though she'd woken up from a bad dream when he cut her off, not letting her finish.

"Mars it is then," he said quietly before turning around and heading to the exit.

]]

I hope you like the first chapter, please let me know what you think. MMmuah

2. Ice Creams, Dreams

[evienyx]

DSMP Citizens POV 6: The Greater SMP Shoemaker

No dsmpsona this time, but actually inspired by a tag from a reblog of the first of these POVs, which gave the idea of a citizen who has a crush on one of the main cast. I went really into it with this one, but I hope you enjoy, nonetheless.

- - -

DSMP Citizen POV Masterlist

- - -

In a land of creation and destruction, of magic and myth, there were a surprising lack of places where one could get good clothes. The Dream SMP server didn't have the sort of large shopping complexes that servers like Hypixel did. Smaller businesses were built up, and even then they would mostly focus on actual clothing. There wasn't really many places for someone to buy shoes.

That was where the Greater SMP Shoemaker came in.

The Shoemaker, Reese, to those who were closest with them, had moved to the server after the L'Manburg Revolution, about a week before the election, and they had quickly seen an opportunity.

"You're gonna make shoes?" Their friend, a resident of L'Manburg and the one who had given them the idea to move here in the first place, asked, sounding rather skeptical.

"Indeed I am," the Shoemaker confirmed.

"Where? L'Manburg?"

"Already a shoe shop there. No, I'm gonna be making mine in the Greater SMP," the Shoemaker said.

Their friend raised an eyebrow and snorted. "Good luck with the politics, Reese. The king over there was just put in by Dream. At least we're having an election."

Then, a week later, the election ended in a near-dictatorship and a fledgling rebellion, and the Shoemaker was perfectly happy as their request for a plot of land was confirmed and they set to work building up their shop.

Two weeks later, their friend in L'Manburg was gone, joining up with Pogtopia and complaining about raised taxes all the while, and Reese opened their doors to the public for the first time, the advertisements for their shop having been hung around the day before.

Business picked up quickly, and it worked out well. No one wanted to go into (L')Manburg at the moment, what with President Schlatt declaring himself Emperor, and the L'Manburg Shoe Shop had closed already anyway as the workers ran off to join the rebellion as well.

The Shoemaker went through their days enjoying what they were doing, creating shoes from materials that they bought from nearby businesses or that they found themself, waiting until they heard the chime of the bell at the door signaling a customer.

About a month after they opened, just after the execution of a teenager, the bell rang out through the shop, and Reese stood from where they sat sketching out a new shoe design in the back room to enter the main part of the shop.

"Welcome to the Greater SMP Shoe Shop," they said, wiping their hands on a towel to get paint off. "How may I help you?"

The Shoemaker looked up and froze as their eyes landed on King Eret, the monarch in charge of the Greater SMP.

"Your Majesty," Reese managed to say, bowing their head in respect. "My apologies. I... didn't know you were coming, today."

King Eret smiled, her teeth sparkling in the light flowing from the window, rays of sun dancing across her sunglasses. "No need to apologize," he said. "I tend to drop in quite unannounced. I suppose I should be the one apologizing to you. I simply had heard that you opened recently, and I wanted to come check it out."

Reese's face was slightly warm as they stammered out, "Well, uh, welcome to the Greater SMP Shoe Shop. Feel free to browse around, and if you have any questions go right ahead and ask 'em."

King Eret nodded and stepped farther into the shop, their cloak billowing around them. The Shoemaker did their very best to keep their eyes firmly on anything but the monarch slowly making his way through their humble store.

They managed to engross themself in a book they had stuffed under the counter a few days ago, one that a friend of theirs had gifted them, and were halfway through the first chapter when King Eret's voice shook them from their stupor.

"Do you custom orders?" She asked, turning her head to face the Shoemaker. Reese was sure that, behind the sunglasses, the king's gaze was right on them. After a moment, they nodded.

"I do. It's an extra fee, of course, but I've custom-made quite a few pairs of shoes."

King Eret grinned. "Cool. How would I go about ordering those?"

"Uh..." The Shoemaker ducked down and grabbed a notebook from under the counter. "We'd need to make an appointment. I already have one scheduled for today, and I only do one per day, but I'm sure I can call them and ask them to move-"

"No, no, it's all right," King Eret said, waving their hand. "I can wait. When's the next available spot?"

"In three days. We could do around noon? I'm normally rather slow at that time."

"Noon in three days' time, got it," King Eret said. He moved toward the door. As her hand landed on the doorknob, she turned her head to offer another smile. "Thank you. Have a good day, Shoemaker." Then, without another word, they opened the door, stepped outside, and were gone.

Reese realized twenty minutes later as they were sitting their customer down for the scheduled fitting that their face was still warm.

King Eret returned a few minutes before noon three days after the Shoemaker had last seen him.

"Apologies for being early," the monarch said, this time accompanied by two guards on either side. "I thought it better than being late."

Reese nodded, feeling the heat rising in their face again. "Come in, come in."

King Eret waved a hand and the guards stationed themselves outside of the door, standing at the ready. The Shoemaker held the door open for the king, who stepped inside with so much grace that Reese wondered if the monarch was simply floating.

"Right this way, your grace." Reese led King Eret into the back room, their hands shaking just a bit as they pulled back a chair that they had specifically purchased from a carpenter the day before in order to have a nice, new, cushioned one ready for the leader of the Greater SMP. "Have a seat."

King Eret swept down into the seat, their ankles crossed and hands folded on their lap. The Shoemaker bit their tongue, grabbed their measuring tools, slipped on their glasses, and tried their very best not to think about how goddamn pretty the king was.

A few minutes passed, Reese falling into a stupor as they did the measurements the same way that they did every day.

"You're very good at this," King Eret said, shocking the Shoemaker from their daze. "How long have you been doing this?"

"Uh..." Reese pushed their glasses up their nose. "About thirteen years. I learned when I was a kid."

The king hummed. "Why did you learn?"

The Greater SMP Shoemaker stilled for a moment before they said, "My father was a shoemaker. With him gone, I... I learned so that I could be closer to him."

King Eret was silent, a few seconds passing, before he asked, "Did something happen to him, if you don't mind me asking?"

Reese felt their eyes stinging, and their hands stopped moving. They blinked, and a tissue was hanging in front of their face.

"I'm sorry," King Eret said, her hand offering the tissue to them. "I didn't mean to pry. I've... never been the best with talking to people."

Reese took the tissue, wiped their eyes, and swallowed hard. "No need to apologize, your Majesty. I can tell you if you wish to know-"

A finger was held to their lips and they choked on their words. "No, of course not. I would never ask you to share something that you are so clearly uncomfortable with." King Eret furrowed his brow. "What's your name? I never caught it."

The Shoemaker wet their lips before saying, "I'm Reese, your grace."

"Nice to meet you, Reese," the king said, a smile quirking on their lips. "My name is Eret, though I suppose you already knew that."

A laugh bubbled out from the Greater SMP Shoemaker's throat and they nodded, spinning around in their chair to reach over to the notebook lying open on the table and jot a number down.

The shoes that the king requested, custom-made ;leather boots with heels so tall that Reese didn't even think that they themself would be able to stand up in them even if they tried, had to be sketched out before anything further than measurements could begin, as the Shoemaker had absolutely nothing to go off of.

"The design should be ready within the week," Reese said, standing up with the king as the appointment finished. "I can send them to the palace for you, if you'd like?"

King Eret shook their head. "I can come in to see them, if you'd be available, then? It would be easier for the both of us, I'm sure."

The Shoemaker stilled before nodding quickly. "Of course, your grace. Whatever is best for you."

The king smiled, but she cocked an eyebrow. Still, he didn't elaborate on whatever it was that he was clearly thinking, and so Reese did not question it.

As the week passed, the Shoemaker found themself often drifting off in thought, ticking off the days until their next scheduled meeting with the king.

"Holy shit," King Eret said, a grin that looked involuntary on his face. They adjusted the sunglasses that rested over their eyes as they leaned over the counter to admire the designs that Reese had sketched out. "These are incredible." The king looked up at the Shoemaker and asked, "Why did you make more than one?"

Reese, their face tingling, shrugged vaguely. "Uh, options?"

King Eret laughed, the sound deep and swelling, echoing around the room. "Well, either way, you're very talented. These are all beautiful."

The Shoemaker was sure that their face was a brighter red than crimson forests of the nether. "Thank...Thank you, your grace. That means... far more than you could know."

"Of course, Shoemaker Reese," King Eret said. "I've told enough lies in my life. No reason to do so now."

It took Reese just under two weeks to finish the boots. They worked on them during their free time in the day, and then toiled on them into the night as well.

"You can take a break, you know," one of their friends said one day during a visit. Their friend sat on an armchair while Reese continued to work on the left boot.

"This is for the king," the Shoemaker replied, reaching over to the table to grab a pair of scissors. "They have to be perfect and on time."

"If there's anything that I've learned from living on this server since before King Eret was put on the throne," their friend said, "It is that they are cool. Things will be fine if you're a little bit late, I'm sure the king won't mind."

"They won't," Reese said. "They're... very nice."

Their friend was quiet for a moment before saying, a lilt of amusement in her voice, "Oh, Prime, you like them, don't you?"

The Shoemaker felt their heart skip a beat, their face burning as they turned to their friend. "No!"

Their friend laughed, bright and tinkling, throwing her head back and grinning widely at the ceiling. "Holy shit, you do! You have a crush on the king!"

The Shoemaker shoved their face in their hands as the laughter somehow got even louder.

As soon as the boots were finished, Reese sent notice to the palace. They were preparing to send them once they were given guidelines on how to do so. However, they never got the chance to, as the next day, the bell over the door chimed and the Shoemaker looked up to see a gleaming crown and shiny sunglasses.

"Your Majesty!" the Greater SMP Shoemaker exclaimed, their cheeks warming just a bit. They pretended that they could attribute that to the heatwave currently sweeping through the nation. "I didn't know that you would be coming!"

King Eret smiled and gave a nod. "I wanted to pick up the shoes myself. You worked so hard on them, I thought you might like the chance to present them yourself."

Reese's mouth was dry and their heart was pounding. "Thank you, your grace. I'll get them from the back."

As they moved to the back room, Reese felt sweat beading on their face. They pushed up their glasses as the frames began to slip down the bridge of their nose.

The Shoemaker carefully picked up the package that they had put the boots into for safe-keeping. They walked back to the front counter and placed the package down. It hadn't been sealed, and so they easily opened the box and slid it gently toward the king.

King Eret carefully pulled the boots out of the package, setting them on the counter in front of the two of them. The boots, Reese had to admit, were some of their better work. The black leather was polished to the point that it gleamed, and each edge was clean-cut and sharp.

The king ran a hand through her hair, running her hand along one of the boots, as if marveling at how smooth it was. "How did you make these?" He looked up at the Shoemaker, and, despite the sunglasses, they were sure that his eyes were wide. "You did this all by yourself?"

Reese nodded, blood rushing past their ears. "I did. I make all these by myself."

King Eret laughed, sounding a bit in awe. "I knew that, but seeing it... knowing that you took the measurements and made the designs and then made these... It makes it so much more real, and that's so, so incredible." The king looked up at the Shoemaker. "You're incredible, Shoemaker Reese."

Through their pounding heart and burning cheeks, Reese managed to stammer out, "Thank you, your Majesty. You're far too kind."

"I don't believe so," King Eret said, their jaw still dropped as they admired the boots. "You might be one of the most talented and dedicated people I've ever met, Shoemaker Reese."

For some reason, despite the fact that they thought it was utterly crazy to do so, the Shoemaker said, "Just Reese, please, your Majesty."

This time, they were the one who had stopped the king in their tracks. King Eret was still for a moment, and they were sure that her eyes were on them, but then her mouth morphed into a beaming smile. "Reese it is, then."

There was a pause and King Eret parted his lips to speak again, but suddenly, outside of the door, Reese watched as the two guards that the king had brought with him dropped to the ground. Both of their bodies shimmered before disappearing, reclaimed by the server, and the Shoemaker realized with a start that something had killed them.

Reese's eyes landed on something thin and sharp sailing toward their front window, and they wasted no time in vaulting over the counter to tackle the king to the ground just as the window shattered. Right where King Eret had been standing, an arrow was embedded in the wood.

"What the-"

The Shoemaker grabbed the king, helped them up, and pulled them around the counter before they both ducked as another arrow sailed into the shop, sticking in the wall.

"We have you surrounded!" A voice sounded from outside. Reese watched out of the corner of their eye as the king whipped his communicator out and tapped out multiple messages. "Release King Eret into our custody or we'll burn your shop to the ground."

Reese blanched at the thought, but grabbed the king by the wrist as she went to stand. "Don't you dare," the Shoemaker hissed.

"I have all three of my lives left," King Eret said. "This shop is everything to you."

"It is not," Reese shot back, "But either way, you're the king. They could kidnap you, forcefully change your respawn point, and then kill you three times over with ease. Then what? The Greater SMP has no leader, there is no heir, and you're dead."

King Eret's throat bobbed, but they nodded. "Then what do we do?"

The Shoemaker asked, "You messaged your guards?" The king nodded and Reese sighed. "Then we wait."

Unfortunately, they couldn't wait it out for long enough.

"You have one more chance!"

Reese held tight and fast to the king's wrist to keep her from standing and sacrificing herself to save their shop that could be rebuilt, just like half the other buildings on the server were during the dozens of wars that broke out.

"Fine, have it your way!"

The Shoemaker grabbed King Eret and yanked him into the back room as soon as they heard the plume of fire being lit.

"I'm sure they have the building surrounded," Reese said, "But at least we can try to avoid the smoke in here until help arrives."

King Eret grabbed their communicator, scrolling through messages that were popping up. "There've been delays. Apparently, these guys planted multiple different batches of TNT around the nation and are threatening to detonate if anyone attempts to intervene." The king swallowed. "I don't want any of my people getting hurt."

Reese's shoulders tensed. "All right, so we figure out our own way out while your guys deal with that."

"How do you propose we do that?"

The Shoemaker couldn't help it: They grinned. "There's something else that I got from my father other than just shoemaking."

Being a phantom hybrid was irritating, sometimes. Reese burned a lot more easily in the sun, and they had to constantly make sure that they were wearing their pairs of glasses enchanted with glamour rather than their regular sets to make sure to keep their eyes concealed. The bright green color of phantoms that would shine in their right eye, other than just disturbing people, would always be rather annoying for the Shoemaker, forcing them to see the arteries and veins running through a person's body, their heart beating in their chest and their brain resting in their skull, even through walls and barricades. Now, though, they whipped their glasses off, ignoring the way that their vision blurred as abruptly everything was tinted with a soft green, save for the organs of the men surrounding the house, which, through the walls, Reese could see clearly.

"There's the fewest over by the window out of my bedroom," Reese said finally. "Only two, and no more in sight line. If we can take them down quietly, then we should be able to get out."

The room was heating up. The glow of the fire flooded under the door.

"Let's go."

As they led King Eret through the house, the monarch asked behind them, "You're a hybrid?" Honestly, it wasn't much of a question.

The Shoemaker nodded. "Phantom. I can... Basically, I can see where they are through the walls. That's all that's important at the moment."

They reached the window, shielded by curtains, and ducked down.

"They're both to the left," Reese said. "I don't know how to take one down without ending up caught by the other, though."

There was a beat of silence before King Eret asked, "Do you have a knife?"

Reese, who did keep one in their bedside drawer, handed it to the king. Abruptly, she slashed it over her arm.

"What are you doing?!" The Shoemaker exclaimed, grabbing their bedsheet to wrap it around the wound.

"Don't touch it!" King Eret said sharply as Reese reached out. They froze and watched as the monarch stood up and moved toward the window. "The left, you said." The men were still there, so they nodded. King Eret peeked out of the curtain, opened the window quietly, and then flicked blood from the arm that they'd sliced onto the two men.

There were muffled noises of pain and then the outlines of the men disappeared.

"Wither hybrid," King Eret explained as he beckoned the Shoemaker, who asked nothing more of the matter, over. Reese ducked under their bed, pulled out the bag stuffed with their valuables that they always kept there just in case, and then straightened up and nodded to the king. The two hopped out of the window, glanced around, and then ran for the tree cover nearby.

They met up with a group of soldiers from the Greater SMP forces, and King Eret was escorted back to the palace as Reese was held in safe custody until the threat around their store was dealt with.

Well, what used to be their store. It was burnt to a crisp, all blackened wood and broken dreams. The shoes were all ruined, their furniture was ashes. The boots were cinders. That was probably what hurt the most.

Reese toed at what remained of the counter and watched as it crumbled to dust. They coughed and made a face. Why did things in this server burn so easily?

"I'm so sorry."

The Shoemaker turned to see King Eret standing in front of their burnt storefront, about ten guards standing at intervals behind him.

"This never would have happened were it not for me," the king continued. She pressed her sunglasses against her face a bit more and frowned as she surveyed the damage.

"It's not your fault," Reese was quick to assure. "Neither of us could've known this would happen."

King Eret shrugged. "Still." There was a beat of silence before the king asked, "What will you do now?"

Reese sighed. "I don't know. Rebuild, though it'll take awhile to make enough shoes to constitute a shop again. Stay with a friend until then, I guess."

King Eret shifted and the Shoemaker wondered if they were crazy for thinking that the monarch looked nervous.

"I was actually wondering... Would you like to stay in the palace, until you can reopen your shop?"

Reese blinked. "What?"

The king cracked a smile. "I have many extra rooms. Citizens have stayed in them before, though often not for very long. It wouldn't be any hassle. It's the least I could do to repay you, afterall."

The Shoemaker took in a shaky breath as soon as they remembered how to breathe, their face burning brighter than the fire that had destroyed their store. "Of course. I would love to."

King Eret's smile widened into a grin. "Wonderful. I'm happy to have you, Shoemaker Reese."

"Just Reese, your Majesty. I thought we went over that."

"Reese it is," King Eret conceded. "On one condition."

"Which is?"

"You call me Eret. No more of this 'king' or 'your grace' shit. Just Eret."

Reese sputtered. "Your Majesty, that's... I can't... You're the king."

"Yes," King Eret nodded, "But none of my friends call me 'King Eret.'"

The Shoemaker blinked. "We're friends?"

The king's cheeks darkened now. "I would say so."

Reese swallowed down the lump in their throat and said, "All right. Eret."

The smile that the king gave probably could have lit up the whole throne room.

(That evening, as the Shoemaker lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, they wondered what in the world was going on.

King Eret had talked with them all the way back, their conversations light and airy, easy as they had somehow been while they were surrounded by assassins, and Reese had found themself laughing far too much and far too genuinely.

They groaned and buried their face in the silken pillow beneath them and tried not to think of their friend, teasing them about a crush that they would never admit they had and yet most definitely, without a doubt, had.

Their cheeks warm and bright, the Greater SMP Shoemaker tried to pretend that things were normal as they fell asleep in the royal palace for the first of many nights.)

[mmvalentine]

Home is Where You Are pt 3 | Feysand

Girl next door AU. CW: abusive relationships. Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

The next time Rhys saw Feyre was at the wake.

Back in his apartment, Rhys tried to settle into his normal routine. But the idea of having Feyre back in his life was intoxicating, after having imagined it for so long. He tried to concentrate hard on his work in order to prevent him from texting her everyday. Especially because it turned out that in the city, the did not live far from each other at all.

A few days later, Rhys put on a black suit and went to Feyre and Tamlin's apartment. She looked so tired, with black circles under her lovely eyes and a slight tremor in her hands. The fluttery feeling he had had in anticipation of seeing her again was replaced by a solemn concern.

Feyre met him at the door. She smiled at him, and clasped his arms. Rhys searched her eyes, questioningly. "I'm okay," she said quietly. "Don't spend too long with just one person," Tamlin said to her. "Make sure to greet all the guests." Rhys rolled his eyes. "Do whatever the hell you want," he whispered, once Tamlin had walked away.

After the service, through which Nesta and Elain did very little and everything seemed to fall to Feyre, the people fanned out through the small apartment. Rhys found Feyre sitting in the walk-in pantry.

He had gone looking for a glass for get some water, and now shut the door behind him before sitting down next to her.

"Okay?" he asked. "Yeah. Just tired." Feyre leaned her head back against a shelf. "Have you eaten today?" "Not much appetite." "Do you want me to tell you stories about your dad?" Feyre smiled. "Yes." "Okay. I haven't told anyone this before, and it's a sort of heavy story. But did you know my dad used to keep a baseball bat by the door. Self-defence, he said, in case of home invaders.

"Well, this one time he was going off at me, you know, really laying into me. And your dad, every so often, when my old man was just shouting the whole house down, would knock on the front door at an opportune moment. Sometimes it would just break his rhythm, and that was enough to stop the screaming. And usually your dad would make up some excuse and then leave again.

"Anyway this particular time, my dad had the bat in his hands when your dad knocked. He opens the door, and spits what in your dad's face. I remember so clearly, your dad's going from my dad's face, to the bat, to me behind him. And then he says, 'You know I think there were some teenagers scrabbling around my porch last night. And I've been thinking I should get myself some protection.' And my dad says, 'that's the problem with you lot, you're soft and they know it.' 'well,' says your dad, 'I've got four women in the house and they suddenly feel unprotected. Do you think you could give me a hand?' and next thing I know, my dad's handing over the baseball bat. 'Hold onto this for now,' he says, 'then get yourself a decent rifle.' Then your dad left and he had to whack me with a newspaper roll instead.

"The point is, I'm pretty sure on more than one occasion your dad saved my ass. And I'll always be grateful."

Feyre stared at him. "I didn't know he used to go over there," she said. "Not sure I'd be here if he didn't," Rhys responded. "At least, I wouldn't be nearly this pretty." He grinned at her, and Feyre laughed. The sound of it released some of the tension in Rhys' stomach, and he leaned over and kissed Feyre on the cheek.

A few weeks later, Feyre came around to Rhys' neighbourhood. She had agreed to design something for a campaign Rhys was working on, and they decided to meet at his place to discuss the brief. Over the past fortnight, it had been the perfect excuse to be able to talk to her.

What are you making at the moment? he had texted her. Ugh, nothing, she replied. I've had no inspiration since my last show ended. Maybe you just need some better source material, Rhys wrote. You could always paint me, if you like. Har har, Feyre wrote back. Don't flirt with an almost married woman. Sorry, Rhys texted back. I do it with no hope or agenda. But seriously, if you like working toward things, my company is looking for an artist for an upcoming project, I could throw your name in if you'd like. I'm not in charge of who they pick but I think they'd love you. That would be amazing! Feyre said.

And then they had loved her, not surprising Rhys at all after years of following her on social media. So he picked up the brief and invited her over.

Rhys had torn around his place all evening, trying to get it to look the right balance of homely and inviting, and immaculate. Ridculous, he told himself, trying to impress an engaged woman. Still, even if she wasn't interested in him romantically, he still cared about her opinion.

Finally there was a knock at his door, and Rhys tried not to throw it open too enthusiastically. But when he saw her, the smile fell from his face.

"Feyre," he said. "I... come in." He stood aside, and Feyre smiled. She looked awful. The bags under her eyes that Rhys had attributed to her father's funeral were somehow worse, and she had definitely lost weight.

"Thanks," Feyre said. "How are you?" "I'm... good, how are you? Are you okay?" "Yeah, I'm fine." "Okay, you look..." he trailed off. "Are you sure you're okay?" Feyre brushed him off with a laugh. "Yes mother hen, I'm good. So tell me about this project."

Rhys led her to the couch, and looked sidelong at her. If she didn't want to talk about it, he didn't want to push her. "I was going to order some food first, what do you feel like for dinner?" he said. But Feyre shook her head. "Nothing for me. Tamlin has me on this cleanse, says it's good for stress." She pulled out a bottle of green-brown liquid and took a long drink. Rhys watched her, and held his tongue.

"Okay," he said. "Well I'm going to get some pizza and if you decide you're hungry you can have some." "Sure, whatever," Feyre said. "Now tell me about this project! I'm so excited, when they reached out to me they only gave me this really vague outline."

So they sat and talked about work, and even though her face was gaunt and her skin a little sallow, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about her ideas made Rhys' heart squeeze. If he could just make her a tiny bit happy, that'd be enough.

Over the next couple of months they exchanged texts and emails, mostly about work, but sometimes about life, too.

Nesta's a pain in my ass, she wrote once. Nesta's a pain in everyone's ass, Rhys replied. Hadn't seen the woman in a decade and when I asked her how she was at the funeral she said 'oh you're back' and then walked away.

Rhys I'm giving up on this project, I quit, she sent another time. Tamlin says what I've made won't resonate with the modern audience, but I don't have any other ideas and I can't bear to start again. We didn't pick Tamlin out of twenty applying artists, we picked you, Rhys wrote back. And personally, I fucking love it as it is. If you change it you're fired.

And then one day, The house sold. I can't believe it's really happening. Congratulations, Rhys said. That's great news. It went for more than I expected, Feyre said. Then, I guess I'll have to go back down and get all that stuff out before the new owners move in. Want company? Very much.

This time, Rhys drove. He picked Feyre up at her place, and his knuckles went white on the steering wheel with effort not to comment on how she had lost even more weight, and her beautiful honey hair looked dull and lank around her face.

"Hello, Feyre darling," he said as she climbed into the car. "How have you been?" "Just fine Rhys dear, and you?" "Good," Rhys said carefully. "That Tamlin treating you okay?" Feyre made a face. "He's pretty stressed out lately. He finds it difficult to work with new people, so I've been modelling for some of his advertising stuff. You know how it is, running your own business." "Sure..." Rhys said. "And... is there a certain... aesthetic they stick to?" Feyre frowned. "Of course, he's a personal trainer." "Okay..." "So are we going to drive or are you going to ask weird questions all day?" "Sorry ma'am, right away ma'am," Rhys said, flicking his sunglasses onto his face and pulling out of his driveway. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Feyre. She was slumped in her seat, and had started to chew on the nails of her left hand.

"Welcome to Archeron Airlines," Rhys said, in his best pilot voice. "My name is Rhys and I'l be your captain for the day, on behalf of us all here thank your for flying Archeron."

Feyre stared at him. "What are you doing?"

"It's a fine day for flying, the weather looks good and minimal turbulence is expected. We are cruising at an altitude of 0.75 feet, your expected fight time is four hours."

"It's six actually," Feyre corrected, the corner of her mouth pulling up. "I know," Rhys said, leaning toward her conspiratorially. "But I drive like a maniac."

Feyre laughed out loud then, and Rhys' heart glowed in his chest. He could do this. He could make her laugh all the way to Velaris St, and make those frown lines disappear. If only he could see her everyday, he thought. If only he could make sure she was okay.

Because she wasn't saying anything, but he was so sure this had something to do with Tamlin.

****

I was going to try keep this very separate from COD but also I want to get the heavy angst out of the way. Because you guys, I promise this one gets so sweet and fluffy if you can just stick with me a little longer.

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira

[honeyedlashton]

Thanks for Being a Friend

Words: 2170

Warning: some homophobic comments, and mentions of violence and bullying.

Ship: lashton fluff essentially

A/N: I haven’t written one of these in so long I forgot how to do it. Anyway. I’ve been sitting on this idea that Luke and Ashton met working at the same mall. A lot of it is based off of conversations I’ve had with hemmoangel so I can’t take all the credit. But anyway, this is how I think it went down. This is only for fluff and soft reasons. I’m trying to get back into the swing of little blurbs, so please be kind.

——————————————————————————

It wasn’t the first time Ashton had met him. He was sure they’d met before. Maybe when Ashton would only have a half shift at the KFC, and he’d catch a movie after work. He might’ve seen the boy at the consession stand. He’d probably bought popcorn from him. Better yet, he knew he remembered buying gum from him on one of his breaks every now and then. Who else was he supposed to go to when there was only a small sea of food court tables between him and a new pack of peppermint?

No, Ashton was very certain he’d seen him. Certain he’d kept his eyes out for this small, blonde boy—no matter how subconsciously he’d taken a notice. It was enough to remember his name.

“Luke”

That was what his little plastic name tag read. From the first day, to right now it stuck out in his memory. It was white plastic on a blue uniform shirt, Ashton always thought the color looked a little like Luke’s eyes—if a little darker.

Except today those eyes were covered by sunglasses. Little fluorescent green frames with black lenses. A bold fashion statement. The aviator frames took up half of the boy’s face, and his straightened blonde hair covered his forehead. This left only pink heart-shaped lips, a small pixie nose, and a delicate jaw as the only discernible features. But the glasses were the cause of torment from Ashton’s group of friends on this particular evening.

“Will you guys shut up, already?” Ashton huffed back at them as he handed Luke fifteen for their various drinks and snacks. “You’re all being really rude. And you owe me money on top of it.”

The three others in Ashton’s group silenced for a second, then whispered among themselves.

“What did I say? Shut up.” He rolled his eyes. “And give me 12 bucks while you’re at it. I’m not made of money, you know...”

Ashton was avoiding looking at Luke as he worked. His cheeks hot with embarrassment. Mostly, he didn’t want Luke thinking that he thought like his asshole friends. “Hey, I like your glasses, man. Don’t worry about it.” He cooed softly when the blonde had came back with their drinks.

Luke let off a wan smile, but nothing like the normal cheery one he would normally wear. “Thanks.”

One of them handed Ashton all 12 bucks, while the rest took the drinks Luke had made them and walked off. Ashton heard “faggot” leave one of his friend’s mouths, and he looked up at Luke instantly. His mouth already poised to apologize.

But the pain he expected on Luke’s face—or the half that wasn’t behind the glasses—had been painted over into a sort of barely noticeable pout. “Have a good show,” he wasn’t sure if Luke’s voice was wobbling or if he’d misheard, but Ashton’s heart broke for him anyway.

“Luke, I’m so sorry about them. I’m not even friends with these assholes.”

“It’s okay,” Luke whispered, busying himself with toweling up a nonexistent puddle on the counter.

“No really, I’m so sorry...here,” Ashton bit his lip and looked between Luke’s pale hands and the other members of his party. “I’ll be right back.”

Luke didn’t seem to care about anything Ashton was saying, but he left anyway. He went to his group. “Which one is the Diet Coke?” He asked them cooly.

One of them handed Ashton one of the paper cups with the blue cinema logo on the outside. Ashton smiled without emotion and mimicked Luke. “Have a good show, assholes.”

He actually reveled their confused faces. And when faced with questions like: “What? Where are you going?” and “You’re not gonna hang with that kid, right?” Ashton only smirked.

“Well, it beats hanging with you losers.” He shrugged and sipped the drink through the straw. “Ugh, this is your Coke Zero, actually.” Ashton traded it and flicked them off as he left, feeling higher than life.

However that came to a halt when he got back to Luke, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere other than behind that counter. Thankfully there weren’t that many people around, and none of them were looking to buy popcorn. “Have you taken your break yet?” He asked softly.

Luke shook his head softly, and Ashton could see the little sliver of a blush under the rim of Luke’s glasses. And then he noticed a single tear clung to his jaw.

“What do you get? Fifteen minutes? It’s dead now, why don’t we go sit for a little bit.”

“I don’t know you,” Luke said softly.

“Mmm,” Ashton nodded. “Alright. I’m Ashton Irwin. I’m sixteen. I work at KFC across the food court, and sometimes I buy gum from you.”

“Oh...” Luke nodded.

“See? Now we’re not complete strangers,” Ashton cooed smoothly. But when Luke didn’t answer, he leaned against the counter. “Look, I don’t associate with them. Or I won’t anymore if that’s their stance on shit.”

After an agonizing second of silence, Luke finally looked up. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere you want. Any place that calms you down. It’s a big mall.”

“Can we go by the fountain?” Luke whimpered, letting through some of the sadness in his voice that he had so obviously been trying to hide.

“Of course,” Ashton whispered like he were talking to a wounded child.

Luke went through the process of clocking out for his fifteen minute break, and Ashton walked close to him, like he was scared someone else would say something cruel to this boy.

“I recognize you,” Luke said after a minute of silence. “Not only from you getting gum, but sometimes I see you get an ice cream.”

“You must have really good eyesight,” Ashton cooed. “My eyes are shit. I can barely see ten feet ahead of me. Unless I’m buying gum from you, or I’m this close, I can’t see you at all,” he teased to lighten the mood.

Luke smiled softly.

“Want an ice cream?” Ashton bumped shoulders with the smaller boy.

“Uh...” Luke hesitated, “no. No, I’m okay.”

“That’s not very convincing. What flavor do you want?”

“Uh...whatever flavor you’re getting is fine. You really don’t have to.”

“Don’t say that. I want to. It would make you feel better right?”

“Well yeah, but—.”

“Then it’s a necessity,” Ashton purred and ordered two cones of strawberry cheesecake. “This good?”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ashton sat him down on the edge of the fountain. It had little black fish sculptures shooting water out of their mouths. It gave a nice ambient sound. A nice break from the monotone chatter and mall music.

The small boy ate the Ice cream more readily than he’d accepted it.

“Luke, can I ask you a question?” Luke nodded. “Why the choice to wear the glasses?”

“I...uh...I didn’t really have one,” Luke fidgeted with his ice cream cone, chewing at the edge of the cone making a little satisfying crunches.

“Why? You got a black eye or something?” Ashton was only half joking, but when he saw the corners of Luke’s lips turn down, he knew he’d accidentally stumbled upon the answer. “Oh no...”

Luke’s frown turned more into a grimace. “That word doesn’t really hurt me anymore, but today it kinda got to me,” Luke whispered, and lowered the glasses enough to see a purple line right under Luke’s tearful blue eyes. Or at least the only clear eye Ashton could see. Not the worst black eye he’d ever seen, but definitely couldn’t have been fun to get. Ashton didn’t dare ask what happened.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t honestly think you were hiding anything. I swear. I have a really shit coping mechanism where I try to make jokes.”

“It’s fine. You’re the nicest person I’ve talked to today,” Luke said gently. “I don’t know how I can repay you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ashton shook his head.

“You’re being so nice to me. Why?”

“Well I don’t like the idea of someone picking on the little guy. Especially when he deserves it the least in the world.”

Luke looked away and Ashton could see the pink in his cheeks. “You don’t know me.”

“I want to...” Ashton smiled softly. “You seem pretty cool. I think you’d make a great friend.”

“You’d probably be the first to think that, I’m not very interesting.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Ashton shook his head. “I think there’s more to you than you give yourself credit for.”

“Yeah, I’m the fag who gets beaten up,” Luke scoffed.

“Every school’s got one...” Ashton added.

Ashton could tell Luke’s gaze was more pointed when he looked at him this time. “...are you...?”

Ashton shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t think it really matters.”

Luke nodded slowly. “Well I am...your friends were right.”

“They’re not gonna be my friends anymore.” Ashton hummed. “But you are.”

“I am?”

“If you want.”

“Okay,” Luke nodded.

“You can have my number, too,” Ashton offered after a second. “Or like we could be friends on Facebook.”

“You would? I don’t have very good photos up...”

“Neither do I. Mine are all embarrassing,” Ashton smiled softly to ease Luke’s mind.

“Okay. Yeah,” Luke nodded softly, then smiled again. “Yeah, I’ll add you.”

Ashton smiled and took out his phone. “Is it just Luke or Lucas?”

“Just Luke. And Hemmings as the last name.”

Ashton hummed and giggled on his own inner monologue. “What?” Luke looked at him, he could almost hear some anxiousness in his voice.

“Oh nothing, it’s not you. I had an algebra teacher who’s last name was Hemmings.”

“Was her name Liz?” Luke perked up.

“Yeah, is she related to you?” Ashton definitely saw a resemblance.

“Uh-huh! That’s my mum!” Luke grinned.

“Oh,” Ashton cooed and added Luke as a friend. Remembering how kind and firm Mrs. Hemmings was. He imagined she was a good mother if Luke could be out and open. “It’s a small world,” was all he said though.

“Thank you for this, Ashton,” Luke cooed holding up his ice cream cone. “And for uh, I guess taking me out of there. It’s been a really rough day.”

“Hey,” Ashton bumped their shoulders again with a little smile. “I’m just upset it took something like this to make me talk to you in the first place. I think you’re really...sweet.”

Luke looked at his feet, his expression unreadable.

“We should probably get you back. You think you’re gonna be okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Luke stammered, but he seemed confident as he nodded.

Ashton took his extra napkin that was wadded up in his fist and tossed it in the garbage as they walked back, making him look a lot more skilled than he was. “And don’t let anyone call you that. It’s your word. Not theirs.”

“I’m not really gonna stand up for myself. Everyone knows I’m weak.”

“No, you’re not weak. You’re strong enough to be out.”

“It’s not as fun as it sounds.”

“You’ve got me. And maybe a few other friends who are on your side?”

“I’ve got one, but his boyfriend is really mean to me.”

“Well you tell him that an upperclassman is gonna beat him up if he crosses you again,” Ashton cooed.

“Really?”

“If that’s what you need.”

“You’re the nicest person ever...” Luke looked up at him, his voice soft. Ashton blushed for some reason.

“I could say the same for you.”

Luke just smiled with a soft blush.

“Hey, I’ve got a band and a gig on Saturday, I don’t know if you’ve already made plans, but it’d be cool if you came.”

“Okay,” Luke nodded a little. “I’ll have to ask my mum to drive me, but okay.”

Ashton smiled, and sighed in relief. “Good. I’ll send you the details on Facebook...”

“Yeah I’d like that,” Luke nodded, and the moment seemed to linger. Both of them dreading the part where they’d have to leave. At least that’s what Ashton was thinking. “I should uh—.”

“Yeah, yeah you should get back,” Ashton nodded and his cheeks burned a little as he awkwardly stood in the entrance of the cinema. “It wouldn’t look good if I just hung around.”

“No probably not,” Luke giggled softly. Actually giggled. Ashton felt his heart skip, so proud of Luke. So proud of the 15 minutes they’d spent trying to help him feel better.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Ashton cooed. “I’m running low on gum.”

“Tomorrow,” Luke smiled gently.

Ashton nodded and let Luke go back to the concession stand, and Ashton sat outside on the curb trying to make his heart slow down. Was he really so shy? Was he really so nervous to be friends with Luke?

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and among the string of texts from his friends, there was a notification on Facebook.

“Luke Hemmings accepted your friend request” and Ashton breathed a sigh of relief. He’d text him later, for now it was enough that he’d accepted anything at all.