#finding her edge

[csainzsgirly]

Brayden Elliot - "You can't tell me you want to do this with anyone else after that kiss,"

For all my Finding Her Edge girlies starving for more Brayden crumbs (aren't we all team Braydiana)

You can find my spicy Brayden fic here

no warnings, tiny bit of spice (touchy makeout sesh but nothing 18+), fake dating with brayden becomes too easy, fake dating established before qualifiers (instead of before worlds), he proposes to fake date and falls first, charming!brayden, cocky!brayden, the good stuff!brayden, adriana and brayden never skated together

Confession - I usually write smut so bear with me while I write fluff 🥹

When the music finally stops, you close your eyes for a second. "I'm going to throw my skates out of the rink if you want to do the routine one more time," you mutter, earning a breathy chuckle. Brayden's minthy breath ghosts over your face, the warmth of his firm chest against your back. He's aware of how close you are, and he swallows hard. You feel his hand sliding off your arm, down your waist, brushing over the bare skin of your back as your shirt was ridden up from him lifting you up. "It's perfect, we will kill it," you say, twirling around to skate to the exit of the rink.

"That's cause you skate with me," the charming smile spreads across his face again, flashing his white teeth at you. Even when you step off the ice, skates still on, he's towering over you. Brayden leans his elbows on the door, hair falling over his forehead so effortlessly. "We should go out tonight," he proposes, causing your eyebrows to raise. "I thought you were snogging Elise Russo behind my back?" you counter, sitting on a bench to untie your skates. "I thought we agreed to leave that behind us three months ago already when I committed to us," Brayden replies, head cocking a little sideways,

"But you're cute when you're jealous," there's the grin again that both makes your blood boil and causes your stomach to dip like you're on a rollercoaster. "People will start talking if they see us together off the ice," you say, sinking some more inches when you step into your slippers, holding your skates in hand. "That's the point," he states, fingertips grazing over your elbow to make sure you pay attention. It's a habit you don't understand, but you grew addicted to it anyway. "We're hot, but if we add some more spice...," his voice trails off, a look in his eyes you recognize from practice, when your body is pushed against his and you're so close you only need to tilt your head to kiss him.

"You want us to fake it off the ice too," you catch on. "Think of the benefits. Marketing, sponsorship," Brayden says. "Says the guy who hates media?" you squint your eyes at him. "Look, I promised you gold. This is the way to get it," he stands up straight, crossing his arms over his chest, causing your eyes to dart over his muscled arms and the confident glare in his eyes. "I'll think about," you hum, turning around to get to the locker room.

"Where are you going?" Adriana whistles as she and Freddie sit at the table in the kitchen of the Team Russo home. "Out with Brayden," you say, turning a piroutte. "What's going on between you two?" Freddie asks, an amused glint visible on his face. "We're good partners," you strategically answers. "He proposed we should fake date as a marketing strategy," you add, biting at your lower lip. "I don't think it's fake from his side," Adriana giggles, making your eyes widen slightly. "He's just a flirty person," you say. "Sure," she replies with a smile. "Have fun. Remember, ice time tomorrow at seven." You roll your eyes with a chuckle, heading out to find your uber waiting for you there. Brayden texted you he was there already, your thoughts drifting off to his proposal as you looked at his profile picture on your screen.

Fifteen minutes later you were dropped off at the club, and he opened the door of the car for you, offering a hand like the charmer he was. "Hey," Brayden smiles, warm fingertips lifting your chin slightly. "You look pretty," he says, voice a little raspy and only for your ears to hear. Your cheeks heat up slightly. "Did you think about..." You nod before he can finish his sentence. "Let's do it," you say. His eyes darken, his grip on your waist intensifies. "We're gonna be so hot together," his lips brush over your ear with a grin before he pulls away, taking your hand in his to guide you to the club. The heat inside is a shrill contrast with the snowy weather outside. You drop your coat off before he pulls you towards the dance floor.

People notice your presence right away, camera's sneakily snapping a picture when he twirls you to his chest. His fingers curl around yours in a sweet way, a familiar way. Like you're on the ice. Except he's closer to you than ever, his cologne making your head spin a little. "Everyone's looking at us," you say, seeing his eyes move from yours to your lips, one of his hands gliding from your arm to your waist. "We should give them something worth watching." Tension sizzles as his nose bumps into yours. He's waiting for you to give the green light, now both of his hands on your waist, fingers digging a little harder into your skin. Yours is curled around his bicep, the other sliding up his chest. It's again like on the ice, when everyone is watching and you fade into a world where only you two exist.

It's an addictive state of mind, one that makes you feel drunk while being sober, the heat of him against you, his lips ghosting over yours. "Please," he says, the letters slowly dragging from his mouth before you finally kiss. Your eyes fall closed, hand disappearing in the hair on the nape of his neck. It's so effortless, making your body itch for more as you follow his lead naturally. Brayden deepens the kiss gently, stupid butterflies erupting in your stomach. Your shirt rid up slightly, his fingertips circling the exposed skin in a comforting way. He leans down with you when you pull away to breathe, nose against your neck, breathing in your scent. "Convincing enough?" he asks, easily ignoring the stares.

"Or should we try again?" the kiss he leaves on your skin makes you shiver, one of his digits teasing the thin strap of your lace top. Brayden's sure his heart starts hammering against his ribs when your hand is placed on his chest, hovering over the beating organ. You don't reply, his head dipping again, but you turn your face a little. "That's unfair," Brayden complains with a breathy laugh, kissing the skin beneath your ear instead before spinning you around in his arms. You ignore your phone for the rest of the night, knowing your notifications were probably exploding on all platforms possible.

"We're going to need some rules," you say when you both climb into the backseat of the taxi a couple of hours later. Brayden gives you a roll of his eyes while leaning his head against the seat, even in the dark his stare burns through your chest. You ignore it. "Touching and kissing only in public and if absolutely necessary," you start. "And we can't see anyone else." He gives you one of his flawless grins again. "You can't tell me you want to do this with anyone else after that kiss," his chest puffs out slightly, making you gnaw down on your bottom lip to suppress a laugh. "You're down bad," you push him gently. "Don't worry. We will win," he promises you.

To your surprise, Brayden follows the rules you proposed. He was serious on the ice, the perfect fake boyfriend off the ice. Brand shoots and promo parties flooded your inbox, both of your socials grew triple in follower size. You expected it to mess with your relationship and the boundaries you set as professional ice dancers, but if possible, it made you grow closer. Less mistakes each training. Countless times telling press how you fell in love together. "We hated each other's guts, stopped acting like children and finally realized what others had already seen: how good we are together," Brayden had told journalists so many times, you knew at what points in the story he'd look down at you with that smile that made your stomach do somersaults and when his hand would find the dip in your waist to pull you closer.

It was all so effortless, felt so natural to let his hand slide in yours when you made an appearance at a charity gala, felt normal when he teasingly pulled on your pony tail, let his fingers drift down your neck before drawing you in for a kiss dangerously close to your lips - all for small clips to show up on your instagram feed with dreamy captions and fans drooling over the couple you were. Qualifiers happened and you felt more connected than ever before. You were skating so freely, trusting each other, getting the perfect score. It was all so perfect and you started asking yourself more and more often how fake it was.

You stop the video of your performance at qualifiers when someone knocks on your door. You had been celebrating with the team earlier tonight, but you pulled back from the party to lock yourself into your room. "Can I come in?" Brayden peaks around the door. "Yeah, sure," you reply. Dressed in a pair of grey sweats and a tight, black shirt he enters your room, closing the door behind him. "Didn't feel like partying?" Brayden asks, letting himself fall on your bed where you were seated propped up against the pillows. "We can party after we win," you say with a small smile, letting him know that wasn't the real reason.

"You can watch it countless times, but we didn't make any mistakes," he nods to your laptop, making you close it and get up to drop it on your desk. His jaw clenches a little, hyperaware of the shorts and sportsbra you're wearing, how much skin is exposed to him. He's gotten to know you really well over the past weeks, having more difficulties to keep his desires to himself. Brayden wanted to be selfish and have you to himself off camera too. You climbed onto your bed again, sitting on your knees while looking at him. His hands rested behind his head, your eyes drifting to his muscular upper body without a thought. "We look good together," Brayden speaks up again.

"We do," you confirm for the first time, his eyes darkening slightly. It's quiet for a second, tension crackling like many moments before. You reach out to brush the hair on his forehead aside, his hand catching yours and pulling you towards him immediately. "We should kiss," he softly says, voice lowered an octave. You don't hesitate to lean forward and let your lips collide. It was even better than the kiss in the club. No pressure from people watching and snapping pictures. His hand sinks into your hair, shifting from his position to pull you closer to him, your back hitting the mattress. His weight hovering over you makes you sink deeper into the sheets.

"Tell me it's a real kiss," Brayden's breathless against your mouth. "Need me to pinch you?" you tease, making him laugh softly. He kisses you now, hands finding your waist, your hips, his body rolling so deliciously into yours. Your nails bite into his shoulder, the other hand pulling on the roots of his blond hair. His tongue licks gently into your mouth, experimentally and intrigued by your response. Brayden's fingers tickle your skin above the waistline of your shorts before settling on your hip again. Your heart is racing when he parts from you, leaning his forehead against yours. "I wanted that for a very long time," he confesses with a smile.

"Promise me one thing?" you ask. "Anything," he quickly responds. "No distractions until after worlds." His smile turns into a grin, knowing damn well what you mean. "You're torturing me," he hums, turning his head to kiss your palm as one of your hands holds his face. "I agree," he adds then. "We're going to make it," he repeats, rolling to the spot next to you. He faces you while you prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him. You hold up your pinky and he laghs, grabbing it with his. He brings your hand to his mouth again, kissing the back.

[swfpoetry]

# I'LL SHOUT IT OUT LIKE A BIRD SET FREE, BRAYDEN ELLIOT

ㅤㅤ★ SUMMARY !

× Camille’s daughter is paired with Brayden for ice dance — and the ice is about to crack.

ㅤㅤ★ WARNINGS !

× None.

ㅤㅤ★ NOTES !

× Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog to help with visibility! I’d also be thrilled if you followed the account 💘 Commissions open for finding her edge!!

word count: 1.5k

The ice always knew who you were.

Since childhood, you learned to glide before you even understood the weight of your own name. Growing up as Camille St. Denis’s daughter means living surrounded by expectations, discipline, and silence. On the rink, no one asks how you feel—only whether you can stay on your feet.

You’re sitting on the bench, tightening your skate laces, when you hear the unmistakable sound of a blade touching the ice behind you. Confident steps. Too light for someone ordinary.

“Y/N? I want you to meet someone.”

Your mother’s voice calls you, firm as always. You stand and turn.

And then you see him.

His light blond hair reflects the rink’s white lights. The blue of his eyes looks almost unreal—cold, attentive, alive. He watches you with open curiosity, making no effort to hide it. Tall, with a posture far too relaxed for someone in a competitive environment.

Your body reacts before your mind does.

Your heart speeds up. Your breath falters for a second.

“This is Brayden Elliot,” Camille says. “Starting today, he’ll be your partner in ice dance.

For a moment, you feel the ground disappear beneath you.

Brayden steps closer, far too calm for someone who’s just entered your life. When he extends his hand, you hesitate for an almost imperceptible instant—the kind of hesitation only you notice.

When your fingers finally meet, the shock is immediate.

His hand is warm. Firm. Steady in a way that doesn’t squeeze, but leaves no room for doubt either. It’s strange to feel so much warmth in a place where everything is cold. Where you’ve always stayed in control. For a second, you catch yourself thinking that if you slipped now, he would actually hold you.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, his voice low, almost intimate, as if the entire rink had disappeared. The smile comes slowly, lazily, heavy with confidence. “I promise I won’t let you fall.”

The comment is simple, but the way he looks at you makes it feel like something else. As if he weren’t talking only about skating.

You let out a short laugh, more nervous than you’d like to admit, and pull your hand back before he notices how much that touch affected you.

“You’d better not make promises you can’t keep, Elliot.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, studying you like an interesting challenge. His blue eyes narrow, amused, and his smile widens—not arrogant, but dangerously confident.

“I usually keep my promises.”

You don’t give him the chance to continue. You push off with your skate blade and glide forward, feeling the cold wind hit your face in a useless attempt to cool whatever has just ignited inside you.

Behind you, you feel his gaze follow.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

From the very first practice, everything between you feels… too alive.

The rehearsal room is spacious. The smooth floor creaks softly under your steps, different from the rink’s cold silence. The air is warm, thick with focus and expectation. Bird Set Free by Sia plays softly in the background, yet still fills every corner of the space.

You move with the count, feeling your body respond almost automatically to the commands. Brayden follows with complete attention. He watches your posture, the way you tense your shoulders, how you hold your breath without realizing it.

“Wait,” he says, raising a hand.

The music keeps playing, but you stop.

He approaches without hurry. This close, you notice details that had gone unnoticed before: the attentive blue eyes, the almost too-focused expression.

“You anticipate the movement,” he comments, positioning himself behind you. “That makes you stiff.”

Before you can respond, his hands settle on your waist, making your body react to the firm, warm, unexpected touch.

“Relax,” he murmurs near your ear, his voice low enough not to echo through the room. “You’re too rigid. Try to loosen up a little.”

Your reflection in the mirror betrays the closeness. The two of you there, aligned a little too perfectly. His breathing matches yours. You inhale deeply, letting your shoulders slowly give in.

“Like this?” you ask, almost in a whisper.

“Like this,” he replies, adjusting your posture slightly. “Now trust me.”

You close your eyes for a second—something you never do—and let your body follow the command. The movement flows more lightly. When he steps away, the absence of contact is immediate, uncomfortable.

“See?” Brayden says, a subtle smile appearing. “You don’t have to be in control all the time.”

You turn to him, trying to regain emotional balance before physical.

“And you do it on purpose,” you shoot back.

He shrugs, feigning innocence.

“It works, doesn’t it?”

You don’t answer. You simply return to your position as the music continues. In the mirror, you catch his gaze still fixed on you.

And you understand, with a mix of nerves and anticipation, that this partnership is going to be far more difficult outside the choreography than within it.

Weeks later, you begin to notice the details: the way he always looks at you first before executing a move, how he adjusts your posture without asking permission, how he holds your hand a second longer at the end of every sequence.

Sometimes you stand still at the center of the rink, breathless, so close you can count his eyelashes.

And he notices.

“Do you always get this serious when you’re focused?” he asks one time.

“And do you always talk this much when you should be training?” you reply.

He smiles—that crooked smile that disarms you.

“Only when I’m with the right person.”

That’s when you understand.

You’re falling in love.

But then there’s Elise Russo.

You see her in the hallways, in parallel practices, always confident, always a little too close to Brayden. You try not to care. You tell yourself you have no right to. After all, she’s Elise Russo, a figure skating star.

Until one night.

The dorm is silent, lit only by cold lights. You’re on your way to grab something you forgot in the kitchen, too distracted to notice—until you stop, before even reaching the stairs.

You see him.

Brayden.

He’s standing in front of a specific door. Relaxed posture. One hand in his pocket. The same air of someone who belongs there.

You recognize the room.

Elise.

Your chest tightens.

You watch as he knocks. Waits. When the door opens, Elise appears, smiling. Brayden smiles back—that smile you thought was only yours.

He steps inside.

The door closes.

The sound echoes inside you like a brutal fall on the ice.

For a moment, you can’t move. The air feels too heavy. Your throat tightens. The anger comes next—hot, humiliating, impossible to contain.

“Idiot…” you whisper, unsure whether you’re talking about him or yourself.

You turn and leave before the tears decide to fall right there.

If Brayden Elliot thought he could flirt, provoke, get close, make you believe… and then simply walk through that door—

He was wrong.

Because now, what lives inside you isn’t just pain.

It’s fury.

And you know better than anyone.

The ice may look calm, beautiful, and silent… but when it cracks, it cuts without asking permission.

[flipthefreakinswitch]

Always there to wipe your tears

Brayden Elliot x fem!skaterpartner!reader

Plot: After a skating accident, Brayden cannot help but feel horrible. He cleans you, and assures you that everything is okay.

Warning: kiss, injury, blood, bruises, skating accident, sweetie Brayden, crying reader, hugging, upset reader, not proofread

a/n: I feel like I always make reader a crybaby but trust me she’s not 🫠 if there are mistakes i apologize, also I started school this week again so sorry for the delayed post :(

It was not his fault. Although he felt like it was. You two were on the ice practicing for worlds when everything went completely wrong. Riley and Freddie were sharing the rink with you two, which was normal for skaters to do, so you did not think twice about it. That was until you felt a body crash into your back, forcing you forward into Brayden’s body. For that particular part of the skate you were getting spun like a dad would do with his young daughter. Arm up, holding your hand, and gently spinning you. Unfortunately for you Brayden’s arm was in the perfect spot for your cheekbone to slam into his elbow.

As soon as it hit you knew there was definitely going to be a large mark on your cheek. And possibly a black eye. Brayden grabbed ahold of your body, hugging you as you both fell. He did it for your safety, not wanting you to bump your head in the hard, cold ice. Falling, however, never seems to go as gracefully as you wanted. Once you and Brayden made to the ground, Freddie was quick to fall on you, his knee hitting your hip with full force.

The falling stopped, causing Braden to take a deep breath, leaning his head back against the ice. Before you could even recall it, tears poured out of your eyes. It was not the pain of the fall, it was the fear that buzzed through your body when you fall. Falling was always scary, but you have never fallen remotely close to Brayden. This time you fell onto him. The back of your head laid on Brayden’s shoulder, blurry eyes looking up at the ceiling. Your shoulders shook as little cry’s escaped your lips.

“Hey it’s okay” Brayden assures noticing the emotions running through your body. Brayden then sat up, causing you to sit up also. He is quick to spin you so he was holding you bridal style. Standing up he is steady, he always has been. Brayden had never dropped you before, sudden guilt took over his mind. Because dropping you was never an option.

Your cheekbone stings when a salty tear makes it way to the cut. Brayden continues to skate towards the exit, looking down at your face. You bring a hand up wanting to brush away the tear that stung your face. A warm liquid covers your fingertips making you looking down at your hand. Blood covered your fingers, and a worried expression crosses your face. Brayden steps down from the rink onto the squishy floor below. A sniffle brings his attention back to you, he immediately notices just how bad the cut was. The blood dripped down your cheek, down to your jaw. He knew he had to keep his cool in order to avoid you freaking out more.

“Don’t touch it” Brayden’s voice came out shaky, ordering you to stop. You move one arm around his neck, then lean against his shoulder. His gray t-shirt turning a darker gray due to your flowing tears. “Don’t cry y/n, I can’t see you cry” of course you wanted to stop, however, so much happened in the span of five seconds. There could have been a way worse outcome.

He is quick to turn into the locker room, using his foot to open the door. You hold onto him as tight as possible, he knew you wanted to be close to him. Whenever you tripped on your toe pick, or fell on a jump, you were always looking for him after. He calmed you, made you realize that everything was okay. When would falls happened in competition, he would whisper in your ear that everything was okay. Then kiss your forehead briefly holding your head into his shoulder to guard your teary eyes from the public.

Brayden gently places you onto the wooden bench located in the middle of the room. “Stay here okay” he orders before turning into the bathroom. The flowing tears are down your cheeks, dripping onto your leggings. A chill runs through your body, suddenly realizing how cold you are, you lean down to untie your shakes. Pulling the lace, you release the knot.

“I got it” Brayden whispers dropping to his knees placing a wet washcloth, and bandages next to you on the bench. “I can do it” you speak causing him look at you. Shaking his head, pulls your foot out of your skate, before moving onto the next one. He pulls at the lace, lessening the pressure on your ankle. Your hands clasp together, and lay them in your lap. Watching him untie your skates always made you remember just how important he is to you. People always questioned your relationship, what exactly you two were. You never knew how to answer the questions, he was with other girls no matter the situation, you on the other hand loved the boy with your whole heart. But when he did stuff like this you questioned if he liked you back, wondering if his own heart did a jump when you spoke to him.

You assumed it did not.

Brayden takes your chin with his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your head up a little to make eyes contact with him. You bring your legs up to the bench, crossing them into crisscross applesauce now that your skates off.

“I’m so sorry for falling on you” a mumble escapes your lips as Brayden takes ahold of the washcloth, dabbing the blood that has trickled down your cheek, and neck. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I should have saw him coming up behind you and didn’t. I’m the one who should be sorry not you.”

“Brayden it’s not your fault” you say reaching up to grab his free hand. Lacing your fingers between his with a secure grip. “Yes it is, I’ve never dropped you but today I did. Hell I even made you bleed y/n, and you are crying. You know I hate it when I make you cry.”

He has only made you cry a handful of times. Once when you two first started to skate together, he claimed that you were difficult to work with. The latest time included the question of ‘what are we’ that he was quick to brush off causing you to explode into tears. Now, however, he thought he had done it again. Even though you knew it truly was not his fault, he was not convinced.

You grab his wrist with your free hand, placing his hand in your lap. His eyes focus on yours when you decide to whisper “it wasn’t your fault, I’m fine okay? I’m totally fine.”

“You’re hurt, I don’t care is Freddie ran into you I should’ve kept you up, and moved my fucking elbow so I didn’t hi-“

He stops talking when you shift down to the ground, now kneeling in front of him. Your hand moves a piece of his blond hair away from his eyes.

“It’s not your fault Brayden, okay? I promise”

His hand comes up to brush away the last of your tears. Brayden nods, grabbing your waist then pulling you into a gentle embrace. He kisses the side of your head, then puts his head on top of your own. You take in his expensive scent, wishing that you two could stay like this forever.

“Is your back okay” the question lingers in the air for a moment.

“Don’t worry about me y/n” Brayden laughs, “you’re the one with a black and bloody cheekbone.” His hands brush against your back in a soothing manner. Your arms are wrapped around his torso holding on gently. “No I want to see” pulling the back of his shirt up. Sighing he turns pulls away, and then turns around. You lift his shirt as he sits in front of you.

Overall it was not bad, just a bruise on the shoulder blade. And a small one on his lower back that was already dark purple. A gentle touch lands in the bruise, “that hurts” he chuckles making you pull your hand away.

“I’m sorry”

Brayden turns back to face you, “do you want to get out of here, maybe get ice cream.” You nod with a smile, Brayden smiles back, picking you up by your waist. Steadying you as you stand. “Thanks for being so sweet to me Brayden” you whisper looking into his eyes. His eyes wonder across your face, lingering on your busted cheekbone. Your heart starts to pound, the lingering looks, the touch, the closeness, everything makes you want to panic. Panic because you cannot like him, he has pushed you away so many times.

“Kiss me”

Your eyes go wide like you did not hear correctly, your lips part slightly as confusion consumes your mind. Brayden’s hand comes up to cup your unbruised cheek, “I can’t do it, I promised our coach I wouldn’t mess us up. You need to kiss me y/n.”

Everything suddenly comes together, the times where you had no idea what you two were. He always stated that it can never happen, that it would ruin your relationship. For years you thought he did not really like you, that the love you had for him was one sided.

You waste no time wrapping your arms around his neck, leaning in to kiss his lips. You swore that your heart exploded. Brayden brings his hands to the back of your head, deepening the kiss that you both still desperately needed. His kisses are desperate, Brayden has been waiting for this for years. Since he first met you at twelve years old he knew that you were the one. He fell in love with you, but like every famous twelve year old boy he was extremely self absorbed.

You whimper into his mouth when he accidentally grabs ahold of your bruised face too tightly. But you do not care. However, he notices the wince, and before you could wonder what was happening he pulls away. Now kissing up your cheek, then placing the most gentle kisses on the black and blue spot.

Your hand lower to his biceps, using the hold to push him away from your cheek. When your eyes meet his he leans in again, placing a quick kiss to your lips, then to your forehead.

“I’ve waiting years for that” he reveals, pulling you into his embrace once more. “Me too” you admit into his shoulder.

[moon-drunk-8]

"You could wear a trash bag and still be stunning", the cheek kiss photo, the record player date, THEIR SONG, "I'd eat cereal with you on it", the interview, HIM GOING TO CHECK ON HER AFTER THE ARTICLE CAME OUT, THE CLUB DATE, the way he looked crushed when she suggested they 'pretend' to date, "Come sit with me", him constantly reaching out, the unguarded smiles, them giggling over the sponsorships products, "You make me better Adriana", "What's really going on between you and Adriana?" (proudest cutest smile ever) "She's...incredible. I'm just...I'm really happy."

[herinnerwolf]

adriana: "i do not want to skate with you. not now, not ever."

brayden: *enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, 350k*

[blushyh]

stayed up till nearly 4am binge watching ‘finding her edge’ only to be absolutely ragebaited WHAT WAS THAT LAST EPISODE

[starssoblue]

god i'm such a sucker for stupid sad beautiful blond boys with family trauma who are outwardly prickly but loyal to a fault and secretly such golden retrievers wtf wtf wtf.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]