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maddiwrites · 3 years

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The Hybrid (Prologue)

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: The Pogues rekindle their friendship with their old childhood best friend and JJ’s first crush, Y/N. Old feelings resurface for JJ and Y/N, possibly leading to a summer neither one of them could ever forget. Due to past trauma, Y/N is reluctant to let anyone into her heart, but JJ never backs down from a challenge, even if he knows it will come back to haunt him in the end.

Note: So happy to be back with another series!!! I honestly really missed posting. Unlike Secrets of the Shore, updates will be slower because I don’t have them all written out yet. A couple things I wanted to let you know before you read. I based Y/N’s family off of Gilmore Girls. I thought they were the perfect fit for this story and the show in general and I just love their dynamic. (Including Luke who I renamed Steve for obvious reasons). Chapter 1 will explain more obviously but I wanted to give you guys a little snippet of the characters and relationships. So let me know what y'all think!

Word Count: 3.3k

Outer Banks. Paradise on Earth. It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island. As you know, the Outer Banks is essentially divided into two groups. If we want to be blunt - it’s the rich and the poor. Figure Eight is home to the rich. Aka the Kooks. With houses bigger than necessary with extra rooms that go untouched, boats the size of homes on the Cut - the other side of the island. Most people who live on Figure Eight are your naturally raised assholes. People who don’t know the value of a dollar and take advantage of people who do most of their dirty work that lets them prance around the island with perfectly manicured fingernails. These hard workers are the Pogues. They live on the south side of the island where most Kooks wouldn’t be found dead. They serve fancy meals at the country club for shitty tips, mow lawns, and work their asses off at any other job for minimum wage. The drastic difference in lifestyles tend to cause many spats and arguments between the two communities. Especially between the teenagers who still don’t know how to control their raging emotions or know when to bite back their tongue. For the Kooks, every fight is a fight for dominance where as the Pogues fight for equality - to put the Kooks in their place. Many of these fights happen at summer parties where the two groups clash to find a good time with their friends filled with alcohol, drugs, and good music.

That’s where they find themselves tonight. The infamous Pogues. John B, JJ, Kie, Pope, and now Sarah Cameron. Although born a natural Kook, she’s earned her spot next to the adventurous teens and her boyfriend. Unlike her brother Rafe who basically is the leader of his notorious group. Topper and Kelce are his best friends who follow him blindly.

The Pogues watch them from their spot surrounding the keg. Kie purses her lips in distaste as the boys cat call for the ladies around them. Somehow most of them finding it flattering. Sarah sips on her beer to hide her embarrassment, often wondering how she and her brother grew up to be so different. Pope and John B stay mostly disinterested, only worried if they try to make a pass at an unwilling girl or fire a degrading comment at their short tempered friend. JJ Maybank is known around the island for his trouble making behavior. Usually if he gets in trouble for fights, no one ever asks who the other people were in the scuffle. Because if JJ Maybank is in the fight, he’s the one who started it, right? Wrong. In fact, JJ usually is never the one to start it. He’s good at keeping his head down and only speaking when spoken to when it comes to the Kooks - the only form of advice worth taking from his father. But his short temper is something the Kooks his age loved to take advantage of because they liked getting a rise out of him. It was like an adrenaline rush.

Luckily, tonight both groups were keeping their distance, either only talking to each other or random Tourons that have found their way to the party. This is usually JJ’s favorite part of a boneyard party. Finding his one fish in a sea of many that he can reel in just for the night and never have to worry about seeing them again.

He has his eyes set on a beautiful blonde making her way to the bonfire when all of a sudden Kie’s voice pulls him out of his trance.

“What’s she doing here?”

JJ follows her line of vision, spotting you walking down the wooden steps that lead to the beach, pulling your best friend behind you by his wrist. He first notices your smile and how it brightens up your entire face. Then of course his eyes scan down your slim but athletically toned body. You’re wearing a pair of jean shorts and a cropped white T shirt that says UNC across the chest. Who knew someone could look so good without even trying?

Well JJ did. He’s known it for a while.

“Careful. I think you’re drooling,” John B whispers in his best friend’s ear.

JJ pushes him away and mutters, “Shut up. No I’m not.”

But maybe he was.

Y/N Y/L/N is a unique resident of the island. Unlike majority of the island, she doesn’t fall in either Kook or Pogue category. She’s what everyone calls the Hybrid.

People who work hard for what they have but haven’t fallen to be Pogue status. Quite literally living in the middle in a place they call the Crest.

Your story is well versed among the gossipers of the island (which tends to be just about everybody). And mainly that’s because of who your grandparents are. Claude and Doris Y/L/N. Two of the riches people on the island, living in a three story house on the beach. Many people fear them, others envy them. Most feel both. Even Ward Cameron walks on egg shells around them, which is quite often, considering he works for Claude. They’re the kind of people who have never heard of Barefoot wine or Walmart. They keep their noses up and turn a blind eye to the suffering communities around them. Thirty four years ago, Doris gave birth to a daughter that couldn’t be more opposite than them. Lorelai Y/L/N was a wild child. A rule breaker. She snuck out at nights, dated boys her parents would never approve of, dabbled in breaking the law here and there. It didn’t matter how many times her parents disciplined her. She always managed to make her parents’ life a living hell.

No one was surprised when word got passed around that Lorelai had gotten pregnant at eighteen. Although it was with another Kook, she brought shame upon her family name when she refused to get an abortion, even when her mom tried dragging her by her hair.

Lorelai risked everything by running away from her parents’ home in the middle of a windy night. With only one suitcase, the baby daddy out of the picture, and less than a grand in her pocket, she managed to make a life for herself on the South side of the island. She worked two jobs, found an affordable apartment for cheap rent, and managed to save some money before her babies were born.

Yes, babies. As in more than one. Five months after running away from home, she gave birth to twin girls and they instantly became her entire life. With the help of her best friend Steve, who she met one month after being on her own, meeting him at his automotive shop when she very much literally rolled her junky car into the garage, she raised you and your sister on the Cut. The two of you are her greatest accomplishment. Every now and then, she mentally throws up a middle finger to everybody who doubted her, proud of who the two of you have become.

Right before you turned ten, your mom took a business risk and opened her own Cafe. The Bikini Beans cafe, very popular amongst both Kooks and Pogues. The business did so well that she was able to move the three of you out of your shitty apartment into a beautiful one story home with three bedrooms in between the Cut and Figure Eight, aka the Crest, the summer going into your freshman year.

You actually used to be best friends with John B Routledge, JJ Maybank, and Pope Heyward. It was easier being friends with them than the girls, finding more joy in sports and rough housing than makeup and gossip.

Doing the same summer that you moved, your mom pulled you out of Kildare County High and placed you in Outer Banks Private Academy. Aka Kook Academy. Around this time, your grandparents had also become more involved in your life, and you wondered if they had somehow bribed your mom into forcing you to transfer schools. You tried asking her during one of your many fights that started with you begging her to keep you at Kildare County High, but she quickly shut you down and told you to be grateful. That was ironic coming from the woman who ran away from the people giving her an expensive high school career.

You had no choice but to do what your grandparents wanted and attend Kook Academy. Making friends was a lot harder there than it was in Kildare County High. You managed to make one friend in your freshman year. Andre Cortez. Due to an incident a couple years back, you built thick walls and Andre was the only one able to break them down. You were grateful for your friendship, but hanging out with him was nothing like hanging out with the Pogues.

When you transferred schools, you lost touch with the Pogues slowly. Your life became busy with school and playing dress up for your grandparents and the boys were starting to work. Eventually all contact was cut and ever since, you’ve felt a void in your heart.

“Look,” You tell Andre. “I told you I would be your wing woman and I’m not backing down from what could possibly be the most important role in my life.”

You didn’t notice the Pogues or any of the stares around you. It’s true you’re not much of a party girl. I mean, you’ll go out here and there, have a drink or two, but you felt more comfortable at places where you weren’t surrounded by drunk and horny teenagers.

“He’s probably not even here,” Andre says. He’s trying to look nonchalant but you notice the way his eyes dance from face to face of the people around him.

“He told you he was going to be here, right?” You ask him with one brow raised. Andre nods. “Then, we’ll find him.”

Sarah and Kie never made any effort to talk to you at school, but to be fair, neither have you. You’ve heard mixed reviews, some people call them spoiled brats, ungrateful...some even go as far as calling them ‘The Cut Sluts.’ Of course you never take any of those things to heart. You can’t judge a book but it's cover. Plus, they’re friends with your old best friends. They can’t be that bad for John B and JJ and Pope to be hanging out with them, right?

“You think she'll come over here?” Kie asks. No one’s ever said it out loud, but her friends wonder if deep down, Kie was a little jealous of you. Because you were their first real girl friend. You were the first girl they ever let in and opened their heart too. That was a tough pill for Kie to swallow when she originally thought she was that girl. Of course the boys don’t like you any more than Kie and vice versa. But sometimes Kie wishes she could have grown up with the boys the same way you had.

“Probably not. Unless she’s drinking,” Pope says and motions towards the keg they’re near.

“I have an idea,” John B says and fills up a red solo cup. He hands it to JJ. “Why don’t you go offer her a cup.”

JJ snags the cup out of John B’s hand and glares at him. “Fuck off, dude.”

“Do you guys ever see her around at school?” Pope asks the girls.

Sarah shrugs. “Not really. She doesn’t really get a long with my old group of friends.”

Kie rolls her eyes. “No one gets along with your old group of friends.”

Sarah playfully shoves Kie by the shoulder and they laugh.

“I heard she turned down Raymond Easterling a couple weeks ago and he didn’t take it very well,” Pope says, remembering the words he heard from the kids in his class roaming the school hallways.

Raymond goes to Kildcare County High with the Pogues. He’s known to be a trouble maker and a class clown. He works with JJ at the country club. The kid can make JJ laugh sometimes, but he wouldn’t necessarily say he likes him all that much. He can be an arrogant asshole with an ego bigger than it should be.

“She turns down everybody,” Sarah says. “Some people at my school call her ‘The Heart Sucker’ because she can pull people in with the snap of her fingers and break their heart just as quickly.”

Something stirred in the pit of JJ’s stomach.

“Hey! Where you going?” John B calls out to JJ who’s making his way deeper into the sea of people on the beach.

“Taking advantage of a good boneyard party, my friend,” JJ calls back and slugs the rest of his beer. Looking left and right, he searches for the blonde he had eyes on earlier. Because right now, he needed a distraction.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The party starts to die down a little after midnight. Some people leave to find another party, some are passed out in the back of their cars, and others had already found what they were looking for - someone to leave with.

The boneyard party wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be. You had found a couple of kids from your school who were nice enough to make small talk with you while Andre left to find a guy named Devon, a Touron he’s been talking to who’s renting for the entire summer.

Now you’re waiting for Andre to come back so the two of you can walk home. You find comfort under a slanted palm tree towards the back of the beach, scrolling through random apps on your phone to pass the time.

“Y/N?” You look up from you phone and smile when you see your former best friend inching closer to you, squinting in the dark to see if it’s really you.

“Maybank? What are you still doing here?” You stand up and pat the sand off your hands on you thighs.

Your heart skips a beat in your chest when you look at him. He’s beautiful. Lucious blonde hair, perfectly tanned skin, piercing blue eyes. You always knew JJ was going to grow up to be gorgeous. He was cute when he was younger. At least you always thought so.

“I was just leaving, but I thought I saw you sitting here and wanted to make sure you were all right.” He knows it’s not like you to stay this late at a party, especially all by yourself. When he first saw you sitting there, he didn’t know if he should say something. Mostly due to nerves of seeing you again. But the other Pogues had already left and he didn’t trust anyone else at the party to be near you alone late at night. It didn’t matter if you were sober or not.

“Aw. Was JJ Maybank worried about me?” You tease. Talking to him felt easy. As if you never stopped being friends. A few years ago, you and JJ had the best banter. Despite constantly bickering back and forth, John B always swore the two of you would get married one day. The two of you just always clicked like a natural connection. And even now, when only seeing each other every now and then for a few minutes at a time, it felt normal. You smirk when JJ rolls his eyes. “I’m kidding. Yeah, I’m okay. Just waiting for my friend to come back from his little rendezvous,” You say.

JJ nods. “Did you have a good time? I feel like I never you see at these things.”

“Yeah. Parties aren’t really my thing. But Andre was nervous to meet this guy he’s been talking to for a little while so I came for moral support.”

“Looks like he didn’t need much of the support.”

You shrug. “It’s better that way, anyway. I don’t mind waiting for him. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Did you have a good time tonight? I hear your quite the ladies’ man at these things.”

“Come on, Sparky. You know better than to believe everything you hear.”

Your face lights up at the mention of your old nickname. You use to always be busting out the seams with energy. On days where the boys just wanted to chill and play video games, you would drag them to the park for a game of kick ball. Or when they wanted to sleep in after a long week, you showed up at 8 am to drag them out of bed to catch the morning waves. So one day JJ started calling you Sparky, and it stuck with the rest of your little gang. You always pretended to hate it, but secretly you loved it.

“Oh I don’t believe everything I hear. I do, however, believe what I see. And your arm around that tall blonde in the little black dress looked quite convincing.”

You first saw JJ at the party when he was making his way to the pretty girl by the water. Your teeth involuntarily clenched and there was a twisted feeling in your stomach you couldn’t shake whenever you looked at them.

In that instant, JJ felt grateful for the dark sky. He felt the rush of heat rise up his neck to his cheeks before he could stop it. He knew the motivation to see that girl was because of you. He just wished you never saw it. But he didn’t know why.

“I walked her home. She wasn’t my type,” JJ plays it off.

“I didn’t realize you had a type,” You giggle, but a small part felt relieved to hear this. “So what is it? Your type?”

Hybrids with a Pogue attitude, bright smile, beautiful eyes, and a mouth that could make any sailor turn around, JJ thought.

“I don’t know. Haven’t figured it out yet.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Well, when you figure it out let me know.”

“Why? So you can transform into my ideal girl?” He teases.

Now you’re the one thankful for the dark sky. “In your dreams, Maybank. But so far, I do have the perfect wing-woman track record, so if you needed help -”

“I don’t think I need any help in that department. Thank you very much.”

You throw your hands up in fake surrender. “Ooo. Touchy subject.”

JJ rolls his eyes at the same time your phone pings with a text message. You pull it out of your shorts pocket and open the text from Andre, telling you to leave without him because he’s gonna stay out late with Devon and won’t know what time he’s going to be done.

“Everything all right?” JJ says, watching you read the message.

You lock your phone and stuff it in your back pocket again. “Like I said. Perfect wing-woman track record.”

“That was Andre?”

“Yeah. He’s most likely not coming home tonight.”

“Lucky bastard.”

“At least one of us is,” You joke.

JJ’s grin slightly falters but you don’t catch it. You have no idea how much he wishes the two of you could be equally as lucky. Together.

“Well, I should probably go,” You say and bend down to grab your flip flops.

“Let me walk you home,” JJ offers.

“Oh no. It’s okay -”

“You’re cute. It’s wasn’t up for debate. I’m not letting you walk back by yourself.”

You scoff lightly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just humor me.”

You roll your eyes and smirk but choose not to argue. In fact, you’re excited to spend more time with JJ. It’s been so long.

“Fine.”

“And here I thought you might’ve grown out of your stubborn phase by now.”

You shove him playfully by the shoulder. “Shut up!”

And just like that, it felt like old times.

#jj fanfiction #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #obx imagine #obx fic #jj maybank one shot

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

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Rewrite the Stars

Day 7, Post #1 is by @adenei

Title: Rewrite the Stars

Author: adenei

Pairing: Ron/Hermione (Romione)

Prompt: Songfic

Rating: PG

TW: Depiction of blood purity/discussion of prejudices against Muggleborns, Violence/Murder mentioned (but not graphic)

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*This fic is inspired not only by the song, but also Anne and Philip's relationship in the movie The Greatest Showman.*

Summary: AU In a world where there’s no Voldemort, but blood purity is strictly enforced, Ron and Hermione must navigate their budding relationship, and all the trials and tribulations that come with it.

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“Are you sure this is alright?” Hermione asks as she smooths the front of her dress, checking for wrinkles for the fifth time in as many minutes.

“Yes, it’s fine! You look beautiful,” Ron assures her.

He places a warm, comforting hand on the small of her back as they enter the grandiose ballroom where the Auror department is hosting their annual dinner. A handful of Aurors are honored for their achievements, but over the years, it’s turned into an event for the upper classes and Purebloods.

Hermione knows she doesn’t belong here, amongst the men and women whose wealth and social status put them leagues ahead of anyone else, and it’s rare to receive an invitation to such an event even as a Halfblood. But as a Muggleborn, Hermione braces herself for an onslaught of jeers and slurs. If Ron wasn’t being honored for his success on a case he’d worked six months to solve, she wouldn’t be here at all.

Ron has always encouraged Hermione to follow her dreams, even during their Hogwarts days. Though they were sorted into different houses, the two shared many Prefect rounds together. Being named Head Boy and Girl also brought them closer together, where they began seeing each other in secret . Neither had intended to break things off upon graduation, but when Hermione received rejection after rejection for potential jobs within the Ministry, she pushed him away too.

There was a time years ago when she hoped to be working within the Magical Law Department with dreams of making the magical world a more accepting place for every witch and wizard, no matter their blood status. But those bright-eyed and bushy-tailed dreams have long since dissipated. The rules are archaic, and there’s no chance of overturning something so set in stone until there’s a new Minister of Magic who would be open to the possibility.

So, for now, Hermione tends to a job that gives her equal satisfaction. She teaches young Muggleborn students in a special school that she founded with the help of Professor McGonagall. Hermione earned her certification to teach the primary levels at University after graduating from Hogwarts, and now works with Professor McGonagall to teach those students between the ages of five and eleven how to prepare for the world they’ll enter when they’re old enough to go to Hogwarts. This is in addition to all of the regular courses that Muggle England expects them to study.

The prep school is what reconnected the pair, when Ron was assigned to work the case of an eight-year-old that disappeared last year. It was determined that the child was abducted by Fenrir Greyback and turned into a werewolf. Ron found the boy’s body deep in the Forest of Dean, where it was determined that Fenrir became too bloodthirsty on that particular hunt.

Hermione was distraught over the outcome and took comfort in Ron, who was equally shaken by the case. As the weeks following the case progressed, Hermione found herself spending more and more time with Ron. Slowly but surely, they found their way back to each other and had only just rekindled their relationship a couple of months ago.

Since their relationship still feels so new to Hermione, they’ve kept things quiet. But she knows how important tonight is for Ron, and she wants to be there for him. To support him the same way he supports her. Hermione knows he will be by her side through it all, and has assured her that no one will make any comments.

Ron leads them around the room, exchanging pleasantries and mingling with people Hermione’s only heard stories about. Thus far, everyone she’s encountered has been polite. They are about to make their way to their table when a voice calls out to them.

“Ron! There you are, dear! We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Hermione turns to see a plump woman with hair the same shade of red as Ron’s. A man follows in her wake who peers at them through half-moon spectacles with the same cerulean eyes that she’s so familiar with, only they’re attached to a different face. They’re much colder than the warmth Ron’s eyes emit, and that’s when the dread begins to expand from the pit in her stomach.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were both attending tonight,” Ron attempts to hide the surprise as he greets his parents.

“And miss the opportunity to see our son receive an award for his hard work? Don’t be silly,” his father responds with a wave of his hand.

Hermione has yet to meet Ron’s parents. A chill crawls up her spine as they talk to their son as if he is standing by himself. Suddenly, all of Ron’s promises become emptier than the desk of her former student.

“Er, right. Mum, Dad, I’d like you to meet someone.” Ron gestures toward Hermione.

She can see his mouth moving, but no sound comes out, at least not that she hears. The blood drains from her ears, causing momentary deafness as she stands under the scrutinizing stares of his parents. Hermione holds her head high as his mother admonishes his choice of a date. There’s no empathy for them whatsoever.

“...What will everyone think? You come from a certain class of people, and we need to uphold our status. At least go for a Halfblood, darling.”

Years of following the mantra ‘hold your head high, don’t let it bother you, stay in your lane’ have still not prepared Hermione to endure this moment. She is a strong-willed woman, she fights for what is right, and she refuses to stand here and take this woman’s judgmental words all because of the family she was born into.

This is the exact reason why Hermione insisted on keeping their relationship private. Her feet move on their own accord as Hermione tears herself away from Ron’s side and weaves in and out of the clumps of people. She manages to find the visitor’s entrance and exits to the bustling streets of London. Refusing to cry, she rushes along the cobblestone sidewalk and down a deserted alleyway.

Hermione forces herself to forget the sound of Ron’s voice calling after her as she disapparates away from the Ministry of Magic. She finds herself in her classroom, staring at all the empty desks in front of her. Desks of students who would be forced to meet the same unfair limitations that she lives day to day. She feels so helpless, not knowing what to do in an effort to make their lives easier.

Looking down at the elegant maroon ball gown she’s still wearing, she feels dirty. This isn’t the life she’s meant for, no matter how many assurances Ron can give her. She doesn’t belong in his world. Thank goodness she keeps an extra outfit in her coat closet, which she rushes toward before shedding the expensive formalwear from her body.

Once she’s changed, Hermione sits down at her desk, staring at the piles of papers left to be graded. Ron insisted she leave them there so they could spend their weekend together. A heartbreaking realization enters her mind as she thinks of his name.

We can’t be together. This is never going to work.

It’s as if he knows that she’s thinking of him as the floo lights up and he stumbles out. Ron sheds his dress robes, leaving him in his starched white dress shirt and pressed black trousers. She refuses to look up even though she can feel his gaze boring into her as he stands at the head of her desk.

“Hermione.”

She says nothing because what is there to say?

“They’re small-minded people. What do you care what they think?”*

He reaches for her hand, but she tugs it away as she sits back in her chair.

“It’s not just them, Ron. You haven’t lived this life. You don’t know what I’ve been up against. You’ll never know what it feels like to be looked at the way your parents looked at me tonight. The way they spoke down about me to my face. I can’t—I can’t be subjected to that. The way people will look at us because we’re together. I don’t deserve to feel that way.”

Hermione stands up and exits the classroom, stepping into the abandoned hallway. She can’t do this anymore— it’s too painful. She’s learned to pick and choose her battles. It’s better to let people like the Weasleys think they’ve won while she keeps fighting on her own.

You know I want you, it’s not a secret I try to hide.

I know you want me, so don’t keep saying our hands are tied.

You claim it’s not in the cards, that fate is pulling you miles away and out of reach from me,

But you’re here in my heart, so who can stop me if I decide that you’re my destiny?

“Hermione, don’t do this. Please. I don’t care what they think. I want you, and nothing else matters.”

She stops and only turns her head slightly to see him leaning out of the doorway, his hand gripping the door jamb as he calls after her.

What if we rewrite the stars, say you were made to be mine

Nothing could keep us apart, you’d be the one I was meant to find.

It’s up to you, it’s up to me, no one can say what we get to be

So why don’t we rewrite the stars, maybe the world could be ours tonight.

“Please, love, don’t let them dictate what our life looks like.”

The desperation in Ron’s voice is what makes Hermione turn all the way around to face him. She begins to walk a few paces toward him before the voices in her head get a hold of her. He’d become an outcast if she stayed with him. She can’t let him risk everything he’s gained by choosing her.

You think it’s easy? You think I don’t want to run to you?

But there are mountains, and there are doors that we can’t walk through.

I know you’re wondering why because we’re able to be just you and me within these walls

But when we go outside you’re gonna wake up and see that it was hopeless after all.

“You know it’s not that easy. We can’t just run away from everything so we can be happy. Your family would never forgive you, or me for that matter! Everyone will do everything in their power to tear us apart. It’s not worth it.”

“So, what? You’re saying we’re not worth it?”

No one can rewrite the stars. How can you say you’ll be mine?

Everything keeps us apart, and I’m not the one you were meant to find.

It’s not up to you, it’s not up to me, when everyone tells us what we can be.

How can we rewrite the stars? Say that the world can be ours tonight.

Hermione reaches out and clasps his hands with her own. “No, you’re not listening to me. You’re worth so much to me that I have to let you go.”

“But what if I don’t want to let go?”

All I want is to fly with you.

All I want is to fall with you.

So just give me all of you.

It feels impossible (It’s not impossible).

Is it impossible? (Say that it’s possible.)

“I don’t want to let go, either, Ron, but I have to. You mean too much to me.”

She knows it’s better to be hurt on her own terms than to let someone else hurt her instead. Ron will see reason eventually. He has to. Hermione wraps her arms around him, tighter than ever before, putting all her feelings into one single embrace, hoping that he can understand.

How do we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine?

Nothing can keep us apart, cause you are the one I was meant to find.

It’s up to you and it’s up to me, no one can say what we get to be

And why don’t we rewrite the stars, changing the world to be ours…

There are many things she can change, but her blood status isn’t one. Above all else, she’s proud of being a Muggleborn, and she’ll keep teaching her students to be proud of their roots as well. She’ll keep her memories of Ron and how wonderful he is locked up tight as she finds a way to navigate this world without him. Hermione has made her decision as she kisses his cheek and lets go. Perhaps in another lifetime, they’ll be able to be together with nothing standing in their way.

You know I want you.

It’s not a secret I try to hide.

But I can’t have you.

We’re bound to break and our hands are tied.

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice leaves the faintest echo among the abandoned halls. Before she loses her nerve, she turns on the spot and apparates away, leaving the hurt look that is etched on Ron’s face burned into her mind as she leaves him alone.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #romione #ron x hermione #tw: blood purity #tw: prejudice #tw: violence (non graphic)#tw: murder (non graphic)

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

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Late in the Night | Part Four

Previous part

Prompt: Friends have a bet how long it will take the ship to get together (Content Challenge Day 7)

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1602

Warnings: None

Challenge participants: @game-ofthe-company @grunid @themerriweathermage @errruvande @the-reformed-ringwraith @awkwardkindatries

^^ Hey! If I haven't commented on your post(s) yet, it just means I haven't gotten the chance to read them. School has been ramping up, but as I have free moments, I'll be going back and looking at all your challenge posts <3

A/n: You guys...IT'S THE LAST PROMPT OF THE CONTENT CHALLENGE! What?! Thank you so much to everyone who participated and interacted with our posts. I had such a blast creating this past week and getting to know each and every one of you. I think it would be fun to do something like this again in the future, so let me know if you would like to be involved in planning/get updates!

As always, I encourage you to check out the accounts tagged above and our masterlists! You can find the challenge masterlist here and my personal masterlist here. Okay, enjoy :)

Aragorn waits, keeping an eye on the trees.

The minute his friends from the eastern inn arrive, they will leave town.

He had a pleasant night — private room, hot bath, well-prepared meals — but is ready to get back on their journey. For all he knows, the brief rest he allowed them could have already cost them vital time.

That thought causes him to pace.

“Calm yourself, dear friend, they will be along shortly,” Gandalf councils.

Aragorn tries to heed the wise wizard’s advice. Sure enough, he soon hears the light sounds of feet crushing grass and twigs, and knows they are close.

The four of them break into sight at roughly the same time, and Aragorn notices two things:

One, Legolas and Y/n refuse to look at each other.

Two, Gimli wears a grin bright enough to rival the sun.

Aragorn knows he must speak with the dwarf as soon as possible.

Something has happened.

Merry, who doesn’t get enough credit for his observation skills, notices the oddities too, and elbows Pippin in the side. Their eyes grow wide, and it takes everything in them not to shout guesses as to what this means.

It is a good while before Aragorn, Pippin, Merry, and Gimli have a chance to convene and discuss the new development. All four of them, though of course dedicated to the task at hand, desperately want a resolution to their ongoing bet.

It had started innocently enough.

Merry made an off-hand comment about how well Legolas and Y/n seem to get along. Gimli noticed the lass was a clumsier fighter when Legolas was watching. Aragorn realized his friend seemed nervous around the human woman. Pippin saw how each of them smiled brighter when the other was near.

Somehow or other, the four of them had put together their observations, and the rest is history.

The bet was born.

Each of them had put down fifteen coins and a deadline, losing the coins if Legolas and Y/n did not become a couple by the deadline, and winning coins if they did. Knowing his friend’s shy nature well, Aragorn had given the two the lengthiest allowance — six months. Pippin and Merry recognized the bold nature of humans, and guessed it would only take four months for Y/n to speak her mind and Legolas to reciprocate. Gimli, on the other hand, thought the two were already head-over-heels for each other and wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about it, and had given them only a month and a half.

Each participant, knowing his deadline was drawing nearer, had taken steps to push the two in the right direction.

The hobbit friends moved Legolas’ and Y/n’s bedrolls closer when they weren’t looking.

Aragorn put them on watch together. A lot. To the point where he actually felt bad about the bags under Y/n’s eyes.

But Gimli, perhaps, had been the boldest of them all, and proudly tells his friends so the moment they are alone much later that evening.

“Quickly, they are suspicious why it took four of us to gather firewood and herbs,” Aragorn mutters, darting a quick glance in the direction of camp.

“Yes, just get on with it,” Pippin squeaks, then throws a hand over his mouth, knowing he might alert Legolas with his volume.

“Alright, listen up lads.” Gimli grins and proudly tells his tale. “Boromir and I got to the inn first, as planned, and the innkeeper asked how many were in our party. I said two, and the innkeeper made a comment how it was good we didn’t have more folk waiting outside, as his inn was almost full. Well, that got me thinkin’, so I inquired how many more rooms were available. The innkeeper said two, not including the ones Boromir and I purchased. So I whipped out my velvet pouch and paid for another room, fibbin’ a bit and saying I might have a lady friend visiting and wasn’t sure if she would want to sleep in my room or not after our activities.” He wiggles his eyebrows in response to the stunned looks of his friend.

Aragorn shakes his head slowly, a bemused smile setting in his lips. “So you paid for an extra room just to force Legolas and Y/n into sharing?”

“Right you are,” Gimli grins, placing his fists on his hips. “It wasna even that expensive — I’ll make it back three times over, now that I’ve won this thing.”

“Ah, ah, ah, hold on,” Merry holds up a hand, halting Gimli’s gloat. “You can’t prove they did or said anything to start a courtship, so you haven’t won!”

“They won’t even look at each other and the elf’s as red as a strawberry, of course something happened,” Gimli practically shouts.

Aragorn, reliably a voice of reason, intervenes. “We shall have to inquire then, but be smart about it. We do not want to jeopardize their potential courtship with our game.”

The companions agree, then quickly turn to the forest, gathering firewood and herbs to supplement Sam’s soup and their cover story.

{***}

Back at camp, Legolas sits on a low tree branch, keeping watch over all his friends.

But mostly Y/n.

He cannot pull his eyes from her face. She sits on a rock, staring into the fire, absently cleaning the mud from her boots. Without permission, his mind goes back to the way he held her this morning, tucked against his chest, her leg wrapped around his. It was wildly improper, and he should be ashamed of himself.

But he doesn’t feel ashamed. Because the way they woke up this morning didn’t feel improper, it felt natural. With all his heart, Legolas wants to wake up like that every morning — his favorite person kept safely against his side. He wants to guard her and give her a wonderful life and bring her home and have his people adore her, too.

Legolas’ resolve hardens, because he knows he can no longer keep this to himself. Y/n has a right to know how he feels, because it affects her too.

He pushes himself from the branch, landing on the ground in silence. With four long strides, he stops beside her, reaching down a hand. “Will you talk with me?”

She looks up at him, nerves like she’s never felt before erupting within her. But she gathers her courage, forces what she hopes is a smile, and takes Legolas’ hand.

She wonders what he’ll say.

All day, she had been lost in embarrassment. Somehow in the night, she’d thrown her leg over his and practically attached herself to his chest — who does that?! And he’d said nothing when they woke up, only got up and went about his routine like normal.

So obviously, he doesn’t feel anything for her.

And that’s what this conversation has to be about.

Briefly, though, she allows herself to remember what it felt like to be in his embrace, and knows that she will cherish that feeling forever.

The warmth of his hand in hers helps her hold on to that memory and, to her surprise, when they reach a secluded spot, he does not let go. No, he takes her other hand in his, clutching both tightly.

Legolas nearly shakes with nerves, and he wonders if she can tell? Does she know how he feels like he might be sick? Oh, he has never felt anxiety like this before, and desperately wishes for it to be gone.

So he wastes no time in putting himself out of his misery.

“I want to be with you.”

Y/n blinks. Surely she can’t have heard him correctly? “What?”

Legolas sighs — her reaction gives him no indication how she feels either way. He bolsters his courage, and tries again. “I feel affection for each member of this Fellowship. But whereas I love the others as if they were my kin, I am unable to deny that how I love you is different. Elves live long lives and thus take matters of the heart very seriously. And, well,” he shrugs, all eloquence leaving him the moment he sees the shy, hopeful smile spread across her lips. “My heart is with you.”

Y/n can hardly believe her ears. She thought that he didn’t…that there was no chance of…but rather than dwell on all her miscalculations, or the myriad of dangers that haunt their future, she decides to just enjoy the moment. She throws her arms around Legolas’ neck, and he grips her tightly against him.

She turns her cheek to rest on his shoulder, unable to contain her grin. “You hold mine as well. I love you, Legolas.”

He pulls back only to rest his forehead against hers, head swimming from the joy of her acceptance and at being this close to her. “And I love you.” She lets out a giddy laugh and he closes his eyes, soaking in the sound. But then he focuses again, for there is something important he still must ask. “Will you accept my offer of courtship?”

Y/n can’t help herself from bumping her nose against his affectionately, and it feels so wonderful, so free to be with him this way. She has no desire for her future to continue without him, and so, her answer is found easily. “Of course.”

Relief settles in Legolas’ bones, the nerves finally leaving him and being replaced with happiness.

Just as their lips meet, the four friends break through the tree-line, back from collecting supplies.

Gimli’s triumphant shout can be heard for miles.

“Pay up, lads!”

A/n The end! This is the last chapter of this mini-series! Thanks for sticking with me as I had some fun with this one. I keep tag-lists, so at any time, just let me know if you would like to be tagged in anything. I’m in the planning stages of a Haldir x OC fic, and while I usually stay away from OC’s, I just cannot fathom typing “Y/n” for the length that I’m planning on making that story. So be on the lookout for that! Hope you all are taking care of yourselves and please know that my inbox is always open. Lots of love!

LITN tag list: @angelic-kisses13 @lainphotography @anangelwhodidntfall @sheriffgerard @themerriweathermage @k-llama-llama @hirokosoul @wellfuckmyexistence @ipsychosocial @anjhope1 @my-lotr-obsession-is-unhealthy

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ravennm84 · 4 years

Text

Lyre Festival Justice

Here is the sequel to Lyre Festival Fraud where you get to see exactly what happened to Lila during her long weekend after she went back to Italy. I thought, at first, that I may have gone to far with the salt... But it’s Lila and I really don’t like her character. So, Warm-Fuzzies and enjoy this salty goodness!!

It was a beautiful day in Rome and Lila was enjoying her shopping spree around the city. She and her mother had spent the first few days after moving back to Italy unpacking and getting settled. It was Sunday, and her mother had to go to the embassy to make sure that all of her paperwork had transferred from Paris, which gave Lila the opportunity to spend the money she’d gotten from the idiots from her old class. Really, she couldn’t believe how stupid they all were to have just handed her over €2,000 for a luxury vacation in Venice. She should have gotten at least €3,000 from the class, but that Mari-brat and stick-in-the-mud Adrien had convinced some of them that she was lying. Oh well, €2,000 was better than nothing.

Best part, none of it could be traced back to her. They travelled to Venice on their own, nothing had been written down, her old mobile phone was disconnected and in a landfill somewhere, and she would just tell her mother that she had gotten all her new clothes at a thrift shop she remembered from the last time they’d been living in Rome. And if the idiots got in trouble and tried to say that she was involved, she’d turn on the tears and her mother would side with her like she always did. Seeing a little cafe, she stopped in to get a good cappuccino, it had been too long since she’d had a deceit cup of coffee.

It was mid afternoon by the time she got home. She had made a stop at the thrift store to grab a couple of their shopping bags to hide the real ones inside. It felt wrong to put a Versace skirt in a bargain bag, but one does what one must to keep her life going smoothly. Opening the door to the apartment, she barely caught sight of her mother sitting on the couch before Lila started gushing about how great it was to be back in Italy and all the things she’d missed.

She prattled on for a couple minutes before noticing that her mother hadn’t said anything. Turning to look at her, Lila flinched when she saw her. Something was seriously wrong, the last time she had seen her mother so angry was when she’d told her that her dad was cheating on her. That hadn’t been true but they had ended up getting divorced anyway, which was to Lila’s benefit since the man had always called her out on her lies.

“Is everything okay, Mama?” She asked cautiously, doing her best to sound and appear small and innocent.

“Sit down.”

Her tone left no room for argument. Lila set down her bags and sat in the chair across from her mother.

“Mama, wha-”

“Be quiet!” She snapped, and Lila shut her mouth. This actually seemed worse than the fight her parents had before they divorced. “I received a very strange email on Friday night, from a former classmate of yours in Paris. It seemed that the majority of your class was under the impression that we were throwing a party for a lot of important politicians, celebrities, and musicians on a private island and you had invited them. I told myself, ‘not my daughter, she would never do something like that’. But the email went on, with a list of the students that were supposedly going on this trip and gave you money for the expenses. Again, I thought ‘Lila would never be so cruel as to steal money from her friends right before we left Paris’. So I told the person who sent me that detailed information, that I would handle it. I still thought it was a joke.”

The teenage girl didn’t even have to listen to the end of this story, she knew that goody-two-shoes Marinette had ratted her out. Lila was fighting every instinct she had to run and lock herself in her room, but if she moved even a little her mother would stop her. She could only sit there and hope that she could come up with some kind of lie to convince her mother that she was being set up.

“Then when I went into the embassy today, my boss pulled me into his office and started grilling me as to why I allowed seven unaccompanied minors entry into the country. I tried to explain that I had no idea what he was talking about, and then he started reading off the names. Do you want to guess why those names sounded so familiar?”

By this point, Lila was practically curling into herself to make herself appear smaller. She had to say something, any lie that would make her mother believe her and only her. Turning on the tears, she buried her face in her hands and spoke between sobs. Fake crying always gave her a few extra seconds to think before she had to speak. “I swear, Mama. I didn’t want to do it. Marinette forced me to take those papers from your office to give to our classmates so they could get into the country without their parents. I never took any money from them, I swear! Marinette was bullying me the entire time we were in Paris, I was scared of what she’d do to me if I didn’t do what she said. You’ve got to believe me!”

“So you’re saying that you didn’t tell your class about some non-existent party on a private island, had no knowledge of who was coming into Italy, where they were going, or anything like that?” Her mother’s eyes narrowed as she brought out her mobile phone.

Her hands were shaking as she kept her face buried in her hands, something about her mother’s tone and the way she spoke made this feel like a trap. But she couldn’t backtrack now, Marinette was her way out and she had to stick with it. So she nodded as she continued to sob into her hands.

“Then please explain this to me.” Her mother turned the phone towards her and Lila looked up, her face falling in horror when she heard her own voice. It was a video of her telling her class about who was going to be at the party that she and her mom were organizing, how she was going to need to know for sure who all was coming before the weekend, and Marinette had somehow gotten video of Alya and Nino each handing her €300!

It took longer than she would like to admit for the shock to wear off, but she was smart enough to stick to her original story. “It’s fake! Marinette must have made it to get me in trouble. Max probably helped her, he’s really good with computers. It’s all too convenient to be true. I mean, she sends you all this information about which people are going, how much money they gave me, and a story about a party on a private island in Venice, that anyone would be able to see is clearly fake. Can’t you see that I’m being set up?”

Her mother’s eyes grew harder as she stood from her chair, causing Lila to shrink even further into her own.

“You say that this is all a set up and you had no idea where your classmates were going in Italy, but you just told me the exact city where they were found. You left them waiting on a dock for you to come ferry them to that non-existent private island, and don’t even bother saying that you know which city because of the video I just showed you, because it never names the city they were in.”

Well, crap. She was about to try another tactic, but her mother cut her off before the first syllable left her mouth.

“Young lady, do you have any idea how much trouble you are in?” she yelled, her face beginning to turn a purplish-red and began pacing the room. “You forged my signature on multiple federal documents, endangered the lives of multiple minors, committed theft, and god knows how many other laws you’ve broken. I can’t protect you from this! You will be facing federal charges for what you’ve done!”

Lila felt her stomach drop to her ankles. “But-but that was all in Paris, and I had diplomatic immunity while I was there!”

“It became an international incident when you forged an ambassador’s signature on federal documents that endangered minors! My boss gave me a choice,” her voice grew even harder and colder than before. “Either you answer for what you’ve done and plead guilty, or I lose my job and we both go to trial for what you’ve done.”

“You’d let me go to jail for one little lie? It’s not like anyone got hurt!” Lila screamed, standing from her chair in a panic. This was much worse than she’d imagined.

“And what if they had been?” Her mother screamed back. “What if they had been kidnapped and sold into human trafficking? What if one of them had fallen off the dock and drowned in the channel or hit by a boat? I would be held responsible for that because you forged my signature! Do you not care about the people around you at all? What is wrong with you?”

“But nothing happened to them! It’s their own fault for being stupid enough to believe such an obvious lie. And you’re taking their side over mine? How dare you call yourself my mother and claim to love me!”

“Don’t you dare try to blame me for your bad behavior!” Her mother yelled back as she advanced on her, making her fall back onto the chair. Mme. Rossi looked back at the shopping bags she had knocked over when she had turned, revealing the Versace bag. Tilting her head back, she took multiple deep breaths before looking at her daughter.

“This is what’s going to happen. You are going to return everything you bought today, and you are going to explain to the managers of each store exactly why you are returning everything.” Lila was about to protest, but one look from her mother had her mouth snapping shut. “We will also be clearing out your savings to pay back your classmates for the money you took, their travel expenses, their parents travel expenses, and any money they lost while being away from their jobs to retrieve their children. After that, you will be standing trial for forgery and fraud. If you know what’s good for you, you will go before the judge and apologize profusely for what you’ve done and listen to everything the judge tells you. If you’re lucky you may receive a lenient sentence; but either way, you can expect your next school to be a reformatory school. And if you try to fight me on any of this, I will let a court appointed attorney with no experience handle your case instead of the family lawyer. Have I made myself clear?”

No longer having to fake her tears, Lila nodded to her mother, resigning herself to the fact that her life had been ruined because her mother didn’t love her and Marinette didn’t know how to keep her nose out of where it didn’t belong.

~oOo~

The rest of the day, Lila was forced to return everything that she bought back to the stores and tell the managers how she had stolen the money from her classmates and then abandoned them in a country and city that they weren’t familiar with. The people that overheard her were horrified by what she had done and the managers banned her from ever shopping in those stores again. After all, if she was willing to steal money from her friends, there was little doubt that she would steal from the stores.

After everything was returned, she was taken to the embassy where they recorded her confession on how she lied to everyone, forged her mother’s signature on the documents she stole, and how she scammed over €2,000 from her former classmates. After the confession was taped, she was taken outside of the embassy and handed over to the police to be kept in a juvenile detention center. She screamed at her mother, not believing that she would just hand her over like that, but the woman looked down her nose at her and said, “It’s time for you to face the consequences of your actions, young lady.”

When she arrived at the police station, she was relieved to see their family lawyer was waiting for her, although he was less than thrilled by what she had done. He explained that even as a minor, she could be serving 2-6 years just for the forgery of the documents, that wasn’t even factoring in the scam or reckless endangerment of seven minors. If she were to be tried as an adult, she could be serving 6 years for each document, facing serious fines and more time for each classmate she endangered.

After hearing that, Lila had to rush to the trash can to throw up. She couldn’t believe that one little lie could get her into so much trouble. But this wasn’t her fault, none of it was. If there was anyone to blame, it was that goody-two-shoes Marinette Dupain-Cheng. After all the effort she went through to destroy that girl, she just wouldn’t back down. She would make that girl pay for what she’d done. As soon as the charges were all dropped, she would do everything she could, use every dirty trick in the book to force the nosy girl to end her life and stay out of hers.

But that would have to wait for now. For the time being, she would do what her mother said and play her part. Act like the innocent girl that had gotten caught up in her own fibs while trying to make friends in a new country. She didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt or in trouble, she was just so overwhelmed and she is so sorry for everything that happened. She would need to cry a lot, that was a given, but she could do this. Just fake it until she could get her revenge on the girl that ruined her life.

~oOo~Three Months Later~oOo~

Lila hadn’t meant to lose control in front of the judge. She’d spent months locked away with a bunch of low-class delinquents, talking to different lawyers and quack-doctors before going to court. She had been the picture of innocence and childhood regret the second she walked into the courtroom, she was sure to get off all the charges against her. But she and her lawyer had been blindsided.

The quack-doctors had called her a narcissist and a sociopath, in need of desperate help. To prove that, all of her lies, everything she had said while in Paris had been brought into evidence against her. They’d exposed her truancy and forgery at her old school, found proof of her purposefully getting Marinette expelled, and faking interviews on the Ladyblog which brought her more lawsuits from a bunch of the celebrities she’d lied about.

Some of her classmates had come to give testimony on what she had done and said during her time in Paris. The goodie-two-shoes brat had even come to Italy to give testimony against her, though Lila hadn’t been allowed in the courtroom while she was there, as Marinette hadn’t felt safe to be in the same room. Lila’s lawyer had actually agreed, probably so she wouldn’t cause a scene. And she probably would have. She would have stabbed her in the face with a pencil, in front of the entire courtroom, if she had the chance.

But the worst had to do with the school security cameras. After M. Damocles and Mme. Bustier had been fired for neglectful and abusive behavior to their students, which had been brought about by the investigation into Marinette’s expulsion, the Board of Governors went farther back through the recordings to see how long the bullying had been going on. What they found was video evidence of Lila grabbing an akuma out of the air and putting it into her earring, and then willingly working with the known terrorist.

To make matters even worse, Ladybug and Chat Noir had sent a video as testimony of the times Lila had purposefully interfered with their rescues and had led Chat away from Ladybug to make her more vulnerable to the akuma Oni-chan. Her lawyer tried to get the video stricken from evidence as he couldn’t cross-examine the two heroes, but it was denied.

Her parents had been sitting behind her when they showed those videos. When her mother saw them, it was like she completely shut down. She heard her say that she wanted to leave, and Lila watched as her father helped her mother to her feet and lead her out of the courtroom without looking back.

The judge had been absolutely disgusted with her, going as far as to call her a monster for willingly aiding a terrorist. Since she had already confessed to multiple counts of forgery, fraud, and reckless endangerment of minors, and would now be adding slander and other charges from her time in Paris, the most notable being terrorism; he declared that she would be tried as an adult and was likely to spend the rest of her life in prison.

She’d completely lost it at that point, screaming at the top of her lungs as she jumped over the table to attack the judge. She didn’t remember smashing the water pitcher against one guard's head, scratching another guard across the face, or getting tasered in the back. When she woke up, she was strapped to a bed by her wrists and ankles, her head felt really foggy, and there were a bunch of nurses and orderlies that were keeping keen eyes on her.

Lila Rossi spent the rest of her life heavily medicated in a maximum security mental health hospital. Most every night, the nurses would hear her plotting some kind of scheme to show everyone what a loser Marinette was, but then she would trail off about how she wanted to hear the song Jagged Stone wrote for her or the album she’d help Clara Nightingale write. When she saw people, she would ramble and lie about being a princess or a secret agent, and that she was only here to keep her safe until they came to get her. Over the years, it was all written off as the insane ramblings of a very disturbed girl that would be remaining at the hospital for the rest of her life.

#lila salt #lila gets exposed #lila karma #ml fic #lila lies

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marvelsswansong · 4 years

Note

Could you please do 48 with Sugar daddy!Bucky, please? Thank you!

48: “Why do you keep this picture of me in your wallet?”

word count: 2.3K

a/n: includes mention of sexy times (obviously, it’s a sugar daddy AU). I changed the quote slightly to fit the blurb better, sorry about that x blurb requests are still open, check my bio for more info :)

NOTE: above gif is simply used for aesthetic. not to indicate the reader is imagined to be white and skinny.

regular taglist: @wantyoubackpeter @platonic-plots @superwholockwannabe @xxmizzlexx @xdsockmonkey @princess-unicorn124 @not-jay-c @therealmrshale @caswinchester2000 @heartbeats-wildly @mostlylyricedits @musiclover1263 @angel-spidey @delicately-important-trash @theimpossiblehologramtree @sweetstilesofmine @valentinevirgo @barnes-heaven @paintingbellarke @cherryblossowm @sailorcrescentpotter1 @tomshufflepuff

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“No feelings, just business.”

That’s what he had told you, the first time he had bought you that far too expensive champagne at the bar at a roof party in Milan. You had been dragged there by Natasha after turning down her offer to let you stay in her penthouse for a few weeks while you could find another place to live in after your landlord had decided to kick you out for a wealthier renter. As a university student, you needed to find a new place to live, and fast, near the university. Unfortunately, your university was in the smack middle of the city- making any possible accommodation extremely expensive.

“Just two drinks and you can leave.” Natasha argued, grabbing your hand and dragging you into the party. You already regretted entering as you felt so out of place- Natasha had been born into wealth, her father being an oil baron and her mother being one of the most famous actresses in Russia’s history. The other people at the party were those in her circle, other rich, successful and attractive people far above your caliber.

“I don’t belong here, Nat.” you complained, frantically pulling at your dress. She had insisted on buying it for you, going as far as pretending to go to the bathroom before paying the bill at the cashier of the designer store, but it was far too tight and short. The black little number clung to every crevice of your skin and matched with the velvet heels you were wearing, making you feel slightly self conscious with every step you took.

“Nonsense, babe. You look fucking gorgeous, you’ve been stressing too much lately and you need to blow off some steam tonight! Besides-” she leaned in closer to your ear to whisper. “I’m pretty sure half of the men here want to jump into your pants tonight.”

You didn’t even want to glance at the direction she was pointing at and scowled, pushing her off with a playful glare.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”

“No I’m not, I-”

Someone near the pool called Natasha’s name and she gave you a brief apology and a hug before scurrying off, greeting the other person with a loud scream. She was definitely a social butterfly, whilst you took a bit of time to warm up to people- especially in situations where you felt out of place. And now you were left.

Alone.

“Could I keep you company instead?” a deep voice rung out from behind you. His tall stature dwarfed yours in comparison as he extended his hand towards you, the cuff links of his Armani suit rolled back slightly to expose his skin. The designer suit was nothing compared to his gorgeous face, a hint of stubble on his chin and a jawline that could cut crystal glass.4

“S-sure.”

He ordered the two of you a cocktail you’d never heard the name of, but you didn’t question it, still mesmerized by his presence. He chuckled at your obvious stare, causing you to look away in embarrassment.

“Are you fond of Oscar de la Renta?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“W-who?”

He chuckled at your frantic response, sipping on his glass slowly as he eyed you up and down.

“Your dress. It’s an Oscar de la Renta piece.... You’re not a part of this usual crowd, are you?”

You shook your head sideways, confirming his suspicion.

“How’d you know Natasha?”

“We go to the same university. She invited me to this party because I’ve been pretty stressed in between studying and finding a new place to stay... Money’s really tight right now and places in the city are expensive...” you rambled on, not noticing the shift in his eyes as he listened to your predicament.

“I could help you, you know.” he proposed. You chuckled nervously, toying with the hem of your dress.

“I don’t even know who you are.”

“The name’s Bucky. Bucky Barnes.”

Three glasses of wine later and he’d lured you in, trading details of your life with his. You found out that he was a self-made billionaire who co-owned a private equity firm with his business partner, Steve Rogers. With hundreds of companies under his palm, he had it all- the money, the fame in the business world, the admiration and loyalty. But he wanted more than a “quick fuck”, as he put it.

“So what exactly are you proposing?” you’d pressed, leaning in closer. He smirked, flexing his rolex watch in the dim bar light.

“I could be your sugar daddy, in the bluntest terms.”

“Do I look like the type of girl who’d be a sugar baby?”

He raised his eyebrow.

“I don’t know, doll, but... you’re fucking gorgeous. And out of money. I know you’re busy with school and all, but all I’m asking is that when you’re not at school to accompany me. I’ll give you everything else- money, gifts, trips to exotic places, connections.... All you need to give me is affection and physical company.”

You bit your lip, mulling this over. The thought of being a sugar baby had never entered your mind, but here you were, being offered the world and more by an insanely attractive man. And all you had to do was keep him company- emotionally and sexually. His hand traveled over to your lap, his clean cologne warming your senses as he awaited your answer.

"No feelings, just business, right?” you asked quietly. He nodded.

“No feelings, just business.”

That solidified your decision.

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

For the first few months, you followed him everywhere.

Fiji. London. Paris. French Rivieras.

You’d let him pin you against the wall and fuck you senseless at the hotel room in exchange for an unlimited access to his platinum credit card the next day. He spoiled you with designer dresses from brands you couldn’t even pronounce and gifts that could single-handedly pay off student loans.

With your schedule as a full time student and his hectic lifestyle as a billionaire CEO, you both agreed on having spaced out interactions. If he was in the city, you’d meet him twice a week, maybe even more if he was offering extra. If he was travelling, you could take a week off, week and a half off, maximum, to see him. On the days where you couldn’t physically see him, lots of sexts and calls were exchanged, all from the new phone Bucky had bought you.

It was as business as it could get, or so you thought.

You’d gotten a call from Bucky in the middle of the night, whilst you were cramming for a final, even though you’d both agreed at the beginning that meeting up during finals would be extremely limited.

“Hello?”

“I need you to fly with me to Boston tomorrow night.”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes.

“Bucky, I can’t. I’m swamped with finals and-”

“Doll, I’m literally begging you, I-”

That caught your attention, causing you to sit straight up. Bucky never begged for anything. Let alone, to you.

“My family’s been bugging me about meeting my new ‘girlfriend’ and me ‘settling down’ or whatever. I already told them I was bringing you, please, doll? I’ll double, even triple your pay.”

“Buck... It’s not about the money right now, I really need to do well on my finals. It’s in two weeks.”

“And we’ll be back in a day or so, it’s just a quick stop by. Please... do this for me? A-at least as a friend, we’re at least friends, right?”

And for some reason, perhaps it was because he sounded unusually desperate, you said yes. He picked you up in his limo the next day, exactly at 6pm, and you flew with him in his private jet to his childhood home in Boston.

“It’s a little small.” he’d warned on the plane, as he helped you step down the metal stairs.

Small your fucking ass.

You were astounded by the sheer amount of ground the mansion covered, as a maid scurried towards you and took your bags into the house. The steep marble arches and the high pane windows made you feel small, as you felt Bucky slip his arm around your waist and guide you towards the entrance.

Bucky’s mother was waiting for you at the door, pulling you into a tight hug and gushing about how pretty and polite you were to Bucky. You felt your heart skip a beat when Bucky referred to you as his “girlfriend”, but you forced yourself to breathe and smile.

No feelings, just business, you had to remind yourself.

Bucky was dragged off to the side by his sister and father, meaning that you were dragged to the kitchen to keep his mother company. She was a very lovely woman, which was why you felt quite guilty lying to her about dating her son.

“I’m so happy you’re dating my son, (Y/n).” she cooed, opening the stove. “I’ve never seen him stare at a woman so madly in love.”

Signing if off as good acting on Bucky’s part, you smiled, waving off her compliment.

“I’m the lucky one, miss. That said, I’m pretty sure I’m the romantic in the relationship.” you joked, eliciting a laugh from her.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, you know. I’ve seen that picture of you in his wallet.”

Picture?

Bucky never told you he kept physical pictures of you. You’d spend him pictures and you two took pictures on dates and outings, sure, but it was all digitalized and kept away in your phones....

Right?

Before you could question her further, she announced that dinner was ready, forcing you to sit next to Bucky. He pulled out a chair for you, causing his sister to outwardly “aww”, and making you let out a shaky sigh. His hand found his way down the table to rest in yours, his thumb grazing your hand repeatedly in a soothing manner.

That was new.

Bucky was an affectionate man, but he usually kept it brief, unless in bed.

“So (Y/n), tell us more about how you met Bucky.” Rebecca pressed, sipping on her glass of wine with a teasing smile. The conversation flowed easily from there, jokes and embarrassing childhood memories being thrown around as time passed by. Four cups of wine and a mortifying story about Bucky falling on his face during a dance recital at his boarding school, you and Bucky clambered up to bed, your face still red from laughter.

“It’s not that funny.” Bucky grumbled underneath his breath as you clung onto him for support.

“Sorry, I just... I never would’ve thought you’d be a dancer. Let alone a clumsy dancer.” you teased, opening the door to the bedroom.

“Well I guess there’s more of me for you to discover.”

The drunken haze lifted from your consciousness at his response, the sudden soft tone catching you off guard. The entire night, you drank away your fears, the fear that maybe he liked you back. You’d realized you had caught feelings for him, hard, about two months into it, but you’d talked yourself out of acting on it.

No feelings, just business. That is what he had said.

But the whole night he went out of his way to touch you, holding your hand and kissing the back of your neck. Calling you “doll” and “sweetheart.” Telling his family stories about you with an adoring gaze in his eyes. And according to his mother, that picture of you in his wallet...

“Shit, I left my phone downstairs. I’ll be right back.” he said, interrupting your train of thought. He conveniently left his wallet behind, and when you flipped it open, there indeed was a picture of you inside.

And not just any picture.

It was one of you, passed out on his lap after a particularly grueling and boring conference call, in which Bucky was working from his home. You weren’t dressed up, hell, you didn’t even have any makeup on. Just an old t-shirt he owned and short pajama shorts, and a pair of penguin socks. It was oddly domestic and simple.

And he had it printed and stuck in between the leather bindings of his wallet.

“Why do you keep this picture of me in your wallet?”

Bucky’s smile dropped off his face as his eyes shifted to the picture he’d been hiding away in your hand, dread seeping across his chest. He swore under his breath, he knew he should’ve kept it somewhere more secretive, but he just couldn’t help himself.

“Can I be honest?”

You nodded as he took in a deep breath.

“I.... I know I said ‘no feelings, just business’, and really, at the beginning, I thought that was all it was going to be. But... somewhere down the line, I realized, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re wicked smart. You’re so kind. You’re not afraid to crack a joke at my expense. You’re... the perfect girl for me, except I was paying for it. I was paying for this... fantasy. Before you say anything, I know you don’t feel the same. I know this is all business for you, so uh, if you want to end the relationship now, since I’ve gotten attached, I’ll under-”

He’s cut off by your body crashing into his, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and he can taste the cherry wine on your lips as you press into him. He eagerly returns the kiss but is left dazed when you pull back, a wide smile on your face.

“I love you, you idiot.”

He smiles back, a smile so bright and sweet that makes your heart flutter, before he pulls you onto his lap on the bed. His hand is already underneath your blouse as he pulls out his phone, his lips tracing your neck.

“So... what’d you say I get a new picture for my wallet?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes fluff #sugar daddy!bucky #sugar daddy!bucky x reader #sugar daddy!bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel blurbs #marvel imagine #marvel reader insert #i actually really like the way it turned out

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peach-pops · 4 years

Note

Hello! Do you remember "Dating a Hothead/easily angered girlfriend" blog from anonymous? Can I request for Akaashi, Kageyama, Ushijima, Sugawara, and Tsukishima of how will they react to their s/o? Thank you! I really really really love that blog! It really reminds me of me of being sassy 😂. Anyways, sorry for bothering you *bows*

Author’s note: UGH Im so sorry this took me so long to get out! I only did Kageyama and Akaashi cause I wanted a bit of a contrast hope that’s okay! Also, I wanna point out that there’s nothing wrong with defending yourself, even if things do get violent. I don’t condone violence I’m just saying to protect yourself in the best way possible!

Here’s the first part!

Akaashi and Kageyama with a Hotheaded Girlfriend

-Akaashi-

Akaashi knows how angry you get so he always does his best to try and make sure everything goes smoothly to avoid any casualties

BUT Akaashi can’t control every little thing and he realizes this fairly early in your relationship

I’m a full believer that Bokuto loves raves and clubbing and because of this, he usually drags you and Akaashi along

One night you three and a couple of other Fukurodani members are out clubbing and immediately, Akaashi surveys the room: where are the exits? Where’s the bathroom? Which group looks like trouble? Where did his girlfriend and best friend go???

He spots a group of girls near the bar that are a part of a bachelorette party who are a bit rowdy but he kinda brushes them off cause there’s nothing threatening about six girls wearing cheap wedding veils

You guys get your own private table in the corner ( bless Konoha and his connections) and after an hour or two of drinking and dancing, you take the initiative to go buy the next round of drinks cause that’s just club etiquette and you’re lowkey ballin

Let’s get it miss independent !!!! 😤 😤 😤

Akaashi offers to go with you but you tell him to watch Bokuto cause he might bust his head from dancing on the table

Once you make it to the bar, you decide just to order a pretty expensive bottle for the table because you’re not confident in your ability to carry six shots back without spilling it everywhere

You pay for the bottle and start making your way back to the table when you see the bridal party from earlier hanging out at your table. You see two girls laughing side by side with Bokuto (ok my dude get some) BUT THEN you search for Akaashi and sure enough, you see him visibly uncomfortable as the ‘soon to be bride’ tries sitting in your mans lap.

Akaashi looks up and he’s conflicted cause he wants your help to get this drunk girl off of him but he also knows you’re crazy and you might kill her in the process

“ Your hair looks so sexy pushed back! Has anyone ever told you that before?”

“ Please go away, my girlfriend is coming and she won’t be happy-”

“ Aw girlfriend? No fair why are the cute ones always taken?”

“ Aren’t you getting married?”

You’re gripping the bottle so tight in your hands and Akaashi can see it in your eyes that you are soooo close to hitting this bitch over the head with the bottle

He already knows exactly what you’re thinking and he’s pleading with you not to just with his eyes

Would you kill a girl over sitting in your mans lap? Yeah probably I mean you were fucking crazy

BUT since you could see how serious Akaashi was, you loosened your grip on the bottle and placed it on the table. Before the bride could even look over, you had already lightly nudged pushed her off of Akaashi’s lap and sat down on your boyfriend as if to claim him

“ What is your problem, you didn’t have to push me!” The bride whined as she got off the floor but you kept your glare on her

Akaashi squeezed your thigh to try and calm you down but maybe it was because of the alcohol so you just clenched your fists even tighter

“ You’re lucky all I did was push you. I can’t believe you’re about to get married and you’re trying to straddle my fucking boyfriend!”

Akaashi can feel how tense you are so he sits you on the inside of the booth so he can be in the middle between the girl and you. At this point, you’re sitting next to Bokuto and he’s laughing nervously cause he’s never seen you act like this before but he’s a ride or die so hes automatically team Y/N

“ Are you threatening me?”

“ Yeah, I am. What are you going to do about it?”

“ Y/N stop-”

“ Yeah, listen to your boyfriend bitch.”

“ WHO THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING A BITCH?!”

Before you can lunge over the table, Akaashi keeps his arm out and blocks you from doing so. He turns to the girl and bows his head, trying not to let his own anger consume him,” I think you should leave.”

“ And what if I don’t want to?” The soon to be bride pokes bitterly as she attempts to wrap her arm around Akaashi’s shoulders,” what is your girlfriend gonna do, hit me?”

She’s right, you can’t launch yourself across the table and your arm doesn’t have the reach but you had alternatives. You grabbed a half-drunken glass of some brown rum and you flung the alcohol into the girls face

Everyone at the table was SHOCKED, lowkey including you cause you didn’t even mean to throw the drink in her face it just happened YOU SWEAR it was just an instinct

Who could blame you I mean you were so mad plus you had been watching so many compilations of “ Best Housewives Fights from Bravo” that it was the first thing you could think of

Akaashi, bless him and his brilliant mind, immediately blocked your body with his because the soon to be bride tries climbing into the booth to beat you up and Bokuto also has a protective grip on your wrist to stop you from killing her

LUCKILY before you could spill any blood, security comes and forces the girl to leave your table

At first, you thought Akaashi was mad at you so you kind of pout and tell him how sorry you were but Akaashi doesn’t even care he just makes sure you’re okay

In his head, he knows maybe you were in the wrong for pushing the girl but he would never admit it outloud cause he values his life

My heart swoons for this man

Bokuto on the other hand is slapping your back and shaking your shoulders going,” Holy crap Y/N that was AWESOME!!!”

-Kageyama-

You and Kageyama had only recently started dating so he probably doesn’t have any idea how mad you could get. He’s seen a few times where you’ve gotten upset over school or your family problems but he still didn’t think too much about it

Who was he to be put off at having an easily angered s/o when he was balancing between his own emotions?

Anyway! You were one of Karasuno’s managers and you and Kiyoko got SO CLOSE! The job was super easy and it meant you could spend more time with your boyfriend so win-win!

The only part that was ever hard for you was other guys constantly hitting on you and Kiyoko like damn okay you both were hot as hell but at least treat girls with respect?

You didn’t mind guys telling you that you both were pretty caused duh you two already knew that but most of them were SOOO disgusting and you never let it slide

Before one of Karasuno’s games, you were on the sidelines with Kiyoko chatting about the next match when you could hear some of the guys from the other team trying to get your attention

“ Damn, Karasuno girls really are as fine as they say, they look soooo good.”

“ God, the things I would do if I was alone with them.”

“ I know you two can hear us, turn around so we can see what we’re working with.”

You just kept your eyes locked onto your clipboard because you didn’t want Kageyama to see how fucking crazy you could get but JESUS it was so hard when these two guys were harassing you

“ Kiyoko, I will fucking lose my mind if they come over here. I think I’m going to snap someone’s neck,” You said through gritted teeth as you watched your boyfriend warm up.

“Maybe you should go cool off in the bathroom before the game starts. I’ll let Kageyama-Kun know what’s going on and I’ll meet you in the hallway,” Kiyoko suggested as you gave her prayer hands cause she really do be a queen

You took your clipboard with you as if it was a weapon and stomped out to the bathroom cause you knew if you stayed in that gym any longer, you would cause a scene

You rinsed your face in the bathroom and you took a few deep breaths as you tried to calm yourself down

Your friends and family always told you that you needed to get your anger under control and now that you were dating, the last thing you needed was to scare Kageyama off

When you started to head out towards the gym, you felt in the air that something was off like spidey senses but instead, it’s like a creep radar was sounding off in your head

That’s when you saw Kiyoko and one of the guys from earlier cornering her against a wall

You can see that Kiyoko was visibly uncomfortable and you were just about to push your limit

“ I said to leave me alone. I’m waiting for a friend.”

“ Oh, you mean the other manager? I’m telling you, we would treat you like absolute queens at our school-”

“ Hey dude, back the hell off!” You shoved the guy to the side pretty hard to the point where he stumbled back a few good feet,” fucking creep.”

This dude, this mf has the audacity to POST UP TO YOU! You’re not even intimidated by him even though he’s easily half a foot taller than you

Like he’s in your face cause now he’s pissed that this girl actually managed to shove him pretty hard

“ Lay your hands on me again and see what happens.”

“ Are you threatening me? Cause if you are, go on and try to hit me I fucking dare you!”

Kiyoko is like nuh uh not on my watch and while im pretty sure kiyoko can throw fucking hands, she ran to go get Kageyama like “ go get ur girl”

This alerts pretty much the whole team even though they’re supposed to be warming up, they go with Kageyama cause if the boys hear your name and that you need help, they get hella protective

Kageyama slides over to the hallway and sees this dude yelling in your face and he sees red when the guy lays a hand on your shoulder

Before Kageyama can even make it over to you, you smash your clipboard over the guys head so hard, he hits the floor

BUT BRUH once he hits the floor you don’t! Stop! hitting ! him!

Like that clipboard is the perfect weapon oml

“ Don’t! Ever! Touch! Me!” You literally bash him after every word and this dude can’t even fight back like I personally dont feel bad but ummmmm you might commit murder

Kageyama rushes over to you and grabs you so you can stop and he’s trying to calm you down but once the word “bitch” slips out of the guys mouth, Kageyama grabs him by the jersey and is shaking him like a ragdoll

“ Watch your goddamn mouth before I put my fist through it!”

And you’re still heated so you want to basically jump this dude with your boyfriend cause romance ya know but Suga is holding you back ( he highkey struggling)

And now Noya and Tanaka are trying to hold Kageyama back because while they definitely would’ve reacted the same way, they don’t want Kageyama to go overboard

“ What did you just say? Go on and say it again-”

“ Kageyama please!”

“ You’re lucky I’m getting held back-”

“ Y/N! Enough!”

Just two lovebirds threatening a dudes life I love it

Things get resolved pretty quickly thanks to daddy daichi calming everyone down and now it’s time for the match to start

Suga lets go of you when Kageyama walks over and the first thing he does is hug you tightly. He practically squeezes the life out of you like this experience really showed how protective he was

He even admits that while he’s glad you can handle yourself, you shouldn't have to stand up to people alone and 100% doesn’t think you overreacted at all especially when Kiyoko thanks you for sticking up for her

He’s a bit intimidated by how you acted only because he had never saw you that mad before but he doesn’t blame you for how you handled it

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trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

four christmases

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

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

word count: 16k

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

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

2018

What a fucking asshole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want triple.”

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

She cried.

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

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

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

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

But it was fine.

It didn’t really matter.

You just wanted to go home.

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

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

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

It doesn’t matter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ransom-”

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

60 mph,

65 mph,

70…

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

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

100

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

105

110

115

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

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

“Take me home.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Give me my keys.”

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

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

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

“Give me-”

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

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

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

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

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

2019

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone.

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

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck he was going to kill you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, would you?” Linda asked again.

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

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

“If Ransom gets house arrest?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You got him regular Trojans.

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

234.72 ETRN-STD

523.50 DRNK

435.62 HAWTHNE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your parents-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More.

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

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

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

“I know Ransom.” He scoffed.

“I’m no better off than you now.”

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

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

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

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

“Marta ruined everything” He whispered into your neck.

“No Ransom, you did.”

2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ransom was disgusting.

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

He was doing this shit on purpose.

And you hated him for it.

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

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

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

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

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

Is she gone yet?

Fucking prick.

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

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

Not leaving, come deal with her yourself

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

Crime of Passion?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wife murders husband?

“I’m gonna write a mystery novel.”

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

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

Ransom was as good as he was, better even.

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

This was promising.

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

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

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

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

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

Eager replies.

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

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

...and yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Every. Night.

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

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

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

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

“Where’s the fun in that?” Asshole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was nice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why are you going to-”

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

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

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

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

“I know.” He swallowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t ask you to.”

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

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

Fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It never gets old.

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

Early morning sleepy soft kisses, I love you.

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

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

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

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

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

It was intense. His love for you.

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

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

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

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

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

He’d bought you a house.

He’s paying for your sisters school.

He’s paying you to still work for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God he is beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay!” Annoyed this time.

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

love you too

With that you went to rouse the sleeping man upstairs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TAGLIST //

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

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

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veiledsilver · 3 years

Note

Top five moments you've felt like the universe was messing with you.

Oh boy everyone get ready this is a long list. In descending order, from mildly funny looking back on it to "oh god oh shit oh fuck":

5. Catfishing: College Edition

In 6th grade, I decided to apply to colleges early to see how they were like. I was scared that if they knew I was too young, they'd arrest me. So I created a gmail account as my persona, a white 12th grader named Emilie Alexander. Emilie was planning to go into nursing, dating a high school linebacker named Kyle Kenderson, and deathly allergic to bee stings. If she even came near a bee, she would die.

This part was of the utmost importance.

See, I was constantly paranoid that one day, the jig would be up- I might forget that my fake last name was Alexander. Or the college dean might come knocking at my door and tear up my home in his mad search for Emilie. If that happened I would fake her tragic death, presumably caused by one big fucking bee.

I secretly collected my information. What nearby states were the prettiest to visit. Which colleges were the safest and most affordable. How often they held courses that I liked. In my emails with colleges I tried to sound as mature and professional as possible.

Then, one day, a college member asked me what high school I was in, so they could check my records.

My blood froze.

It was time to bring out the bee.

In response to their question, I sent an email that was like this:

"Dear Mr. McLaughlin, I was a proud graduate of- ugh! Ah! Kyaaaa! Uwaa! W-w-what's this... huge goddamn bee doing here?! Eek, pardon my foul language! It's just that, as I told you earlier, being stung by a bee would kill me.... and now it's stung me thrice (three times)!!

What do I do?! I can't die... I've always wanted to attend your beautiful college...

But this is... the end...

Mr. McLaughlin...

*looks at you sadly*

Tell... my mother... I loved her...

*dies*"

He never responded, probably because he was rendered speechless, but I never touched that account again.

My private gmail for fun stuff like tumblr still has "Alexander" as a surname, though.

4. Wild and Authentic

Alright. Alright. So. My art teacher in middle school.

Right off the bat, they endeared themselves to the tumblr art kids- they proudly used they/them pronouns, dyed their hair vibrant colors, deeply encouraged OC creation, and was chill with any art style even if it was anime. Mx. Mason was very cool, except for one thing.

We had complete artistic freedom when it came to their assignments, EXCEPT FOR ONE THING.

Drumroll, please.

Take a deep breath if you must.

Ready?

...

Cats had to have extremely distinct whisker pores.

YES, they believed that modern depictions of cats were too streamlined. Too... idealized. As a cat owner themselves, they were convinced that society's vision of cats did not do their feral feline ancestors justice. In making their faces flawlessly smooth-furred, we were stripping the cat of its true nature.

I found this out the hard way, when I was drawing warrior cats fanart for class (it was of Firestar cuddled in the arms of an orange haired anime catgirl who was his reincarnation in my first ever comic series, Warriors Neko Desu! ♡ Heart Academy Dokidoki).

Mx. Mason came over to look at my magnum opus, and I expected them to have their socks knocked off at my artistic talent. They lifted up my drawing for all to see, and I smugly leaned back in my seat.

Only for them to launch into a passionate lecture about how, in neglecting to draw whisker pores on cats, I was DENYING THIS FICTIONAL CAT OF ITS WILD AUTHENTIC SELF.

My friends absolutely lost it when I told them this story, and there was a period of time when all our discord nicknames were wild and authentic too.

As for Firestar and his counterpart Hoshineko Orenji-chan, I never did give them wild authentic whisker holes, but that's to be expected of a kittypet, I guess.

3. Stan Jungkook Or Whatever

A couple years ago, my family and I flew to Seoul, South Korea, to visit our relatives and teach me more about my heritage. It was very nice! I got to visit shrines and festivals and palaces, and I was in awe that this was what my ancestors had once seen in their daily lives.

Then, when we went to the modern side of Korea, I realized just how much I didn't fit in.

It was clear that I didn't know how to act, or how to speak Korean, and I spent my days fumbling around and getting scammed multiple times by salesmen. But I clowned myself the most... during an interactive event with kpop stars.

They had this experimental event where holograms of the boys would sing onstage and dance in place of the actual idols. Before the show began, girls could stand in booths that scanned their appearances, and holograms of THEM could dance onstage with the hologram boys.

I didn't know this.

When Cousin Ae-cha told me to step inside one of the machines, I thought I'd be hilarious and stand backwards, so it would scan the back of me instead of my front. As I walked out, I saw other girls putting on their best makeup, cutest clothes, and most expensive accessories, and I slowly realized that I was in danger.

But the danger didn't come until halfway through the concert, where the boys looked eagerly off-stage and a holy staircase appeared and all the hologram girls descended from heaven. There were cherry blossoms. There were roses. There was me, among the crowd of beautiful airbrushed girls, walking backwards.

I felt the judgemental gazes of twenty girls and their mothers.

Each boy danced with a girl, who got a cute animated moment with special effects, and sang about how they found a dream girl to have a true love romance with. Finally, all the girls vanished except one, and it was me.

One of the boys didn't dance with any girls, and now he was all alone in the rain, feeling dejected that HE did not find his true love girl to have a dream romance with. Then the rain stopped, the sun came out, and I emerged. Still backwards.

He was thrilled and sang about how my face (that he didn't see) stole his heart, and now everyone in the audience was giggling, and he slowly brought me very close to kiss me... but because I was backwards, his nose was cutely nuzzling my hair.

The audience members- at least the adults- were now laughing their asses off. His lips met the back of my head, and together we vanished into the wind.

I'd say I couldn't show my face there ever again, but I never did show my face, so... hm...

2. Horrid Little Temptress

If I wasn't a minor, I'd need a drink before starting this story. Sadly, I cannot drown my sorrows- and neither should you after you hear this, because it's only fair.

Mrs. Appleby was my Spanish teacher in like, 9th grade. Even the wild and authentic art teacher thought she was insane. Appleby forced kids to brew tea for her and yelled at them when they didn't get it right, and I thought she had a chronic squint until I realised she just did that to mock me and my Asian eye-folds. She forced us to watch Dora the Explorer to "absorb knowledge." Everyone fucking hated Mrs. Appleby.

But the worst thing she ever did... was during the school festival.

See, whenever she's angry, she zooms right into kids' faces to scream at them. Her wrinkled flesh would blot out the goddamn sun and all you see are her bloodshot yellow eyeballs so victims just stayed rooted to the spot like cornered animals or something similar. This is important.

Because when she was sampling her own brownies (read: hoarding them so no one else could eat them), one parent foolishly decided to grab one and she thought it was a student and she grabbed his wrist so hard she could've nearly snapped it and... and... zoomed into his face.

Except she underestimated his height and kissed him by accident, but it was more like her mouth was sucking in his face like a vacuum.

His wife was shrieking like an ape. His kid, my classmate, saw his social life flash before his eyes.

In her defense, she did not mouth to mouth with him on purpose and afterwards she cried in the bathroom and when I foolishly followed her in to comfort her, because I am a teacher's pet through and through, she snatched the paper towels I got for her and wailed that she was a-

A-

HORRID LITTLE TEMPTRESS.

If I had decided to not be kind, I never would've heard that string of fucking words. But I did. And I paid for it dearly. The end.

1. Violence IS The Answer, Sometimes

Thomas, my dearly detested.

Back in sixth grade, I used to have a crush on him because he had the surfer boy look with nicely tanned skin and pale blond hair and the clearest aquamarine eyes I've ever seen. He also liked surfing and swimming. He seemed like the perfect little trophy waifu except for one absolute dealbreaker.

He and his parents were extremely conservative and so, when I told him I liked him, his response was basically "haha no you're a [slur] and would probably eat my dog."

I was horrified and ran away to cry. But then, by the next day, I decided I needed to punish him. Thomas walked in before class started and I was waiting for him with these hands. I kicked him so he doubled over, slammed his face into his chair's seat, and quickly clambered on top of him to SIT ON THE BACK OF HIS HEAD. He started shaking and twitching and trying to pry me off, but eventually he went limp and stopped moving.

I thought he fell asleep, but Mohammed, another classmate who was bullied by Thomas, told me that Thomas might never wake up again (not that he was very sad about this. I didn't know until later, but Thomas said slurs at him too).

While I was sitting on the guy, he'd straight up passed out from the lack of oxygen.

Screaming and crying, I told our homeroom teacher that Thomas suddenly fainted, and she was the type of Caucasian that thought all little Asian kids were sweet and innocent, so it didn't even cross her mind that? It might've been me? Who sat on his head when she walked in?

He was sent home early that day. I had to go to a different school next year because Thomas's mom threatened legal action. The only reason I didn't get punished further was because my rich cousins out-Karen'd her and donated a huge amount of money to the school to keep them quiet.

Anyway, I never did anything that insane ever again, because something like that is enough for a lifetime. My cousins made it clear they would never back me up again. I was sure this whole event would be put behind me, too.

But last fall, during my first day of online learning... who did I see in my zoom meeting... BUT THOMAS! I had my mic and camera off, but the moment he saw my name, his face went pale. His soul would've left his body, but then it would've gone to hell, so it wisely decided to stay inside.

Still, out of shame and embarrassment, I never turned my camera on for the rest of the school year.

#asks #there you have it #i feel like I'm confessing my sins to the pope

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minavalentina · 3 years

Text

Motion Thickness / Chapter Two

The night air was cool - a welcome relief from the hot California summer. Jake and Amber walked in the middle of the road, enjoying the breeze and not saying much. At 1:30 in the morning, the streets were empty, and it was nice to feel the space around them after the stifling atmosphere of the party. As Jake moved over to some bushes near the side of the road to relieve himself, Amber found herself wandering, head still spinning from the alcohol she'd had earlier and enjoying the brilliant stars pulsing in the calm, still night. She rounded off the main street to explore down a back lane, a shift from the expensive area they were in. Garages edged the otherwise wood-fenced street, and power lines dipped low across from one side to the other. Amber continued strolling, one foot landing messily in front of the other until she noticed something, and stopped dead. Kneeling in the small one-way street was a man, lit by the streetlight above. She jumped for a second, before she realised that she recognised him. He went to her high school. They didn't run in the same circles, but she knew his face. Could probably even come up with his name if she thought hard enough. She had been more arty, more popular, and he had been the type to smoke behind the gym. He must have come down from the party to get some air as well. "Hey." She said lightly, a fraction of a second before she saw the body. A second guy, laying on the ground near whats-his-face, a dark, thick pool spreading out from beneath the head. Amber's blood turned cold. The gun was fired before she even realised he'd heard her. A bullet, frighteningly loud and real, hit the tall wooden fence to her left, and all the muscles in Amber's body contracted. She was frozen, eyes wide and body trembling. He paused after firing the first shot, and studied her face in the dim light. "I know you. You that bitch from art class." He said, voice cold and furious. He whooped out a chilling, abrupt laugh. "Hoo, you in it now." This time, Amber did see him aiming the gun at her. The first shot had been on instinct. This one had intention. He didn't want to miss. The bottom dropped out of her stomach and Amber was running frantically, weaving side to side as she sprinted down the road to make herself harder to hit. Thoughts of regret and 'what if?' flooded through her and mixed with her panic as she heard one, two, three more shots ring out from behind her. She'd just graduated, literally just turned eighteen. She had plans, big dreams. She was going to be famous. She was supposed to become a star. Terror jumbled her thoughts, but not too much to stop tears from escaping her eyes before being whipped away by the wind hitting her face. Amber felt a fourth bullet whistle by her, and she screamed, forcing her legs to pump faster.

“Run, bitch!” She heard him screaming behind her as she tore away down the empty street. “Doesn’t matter though, I seen you before! Best believe I’ll find you.”

Sprinting out of the side-street, she found Jake already running towards her. Clearly he'd heard the shots, she thought. Somewhere in amongst all the feelings rushing through her in that moment, she recognized a tiny grain of warmth, noticing that he had run towards the sound and not away from it. But there was no time to dwell on it, as Amber barrelled into Jake and forcibly spun him around with her hands to face the direction she was running. "We gotta go!" She yelled, giving him a few panicked shoves to get him started. "We gotta go, we gotta go!" He ran with her, the two of them hurling down the road until they were a few blocks away and closer to the main road. The road was still deserted but the taillights flashing by on the highway nearby, as well as the illuminated windows dotted around the surrounding houses made them feel like they could stop for breath. "What happened?" Jake asked, rubbing her back as she bent, gasping for air. "He tried to kill me!" Amber wailed, straightening up and throwing her hair from her face. "He killed someone else! There was someone else there. Dead."

"It's okay." Jake was shaken, but he tried to calm her. "We got away. He didn't follow us."

"It doesn't matter." Amber said with tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "He knew me. He goes to our school, Jake. He said he was gonna find me and he can!" She sobbed, shaking, and wrapped her arms around herself. "He was going to shoot me dead right then. He tried. He'll be able to find me if he wants to."

She sniffed, cheeks wet with tears, looking completely distraught. She wouldn't meet his eyes. "I don't know what to do. Everything was about to be so good. I don't want to have to move away, I love this city. This is where I'm meant to be." As she spoke, the night's events began coming together in Jake's mind to form a scrap of an idea. It was out there, strange, and he wouldn't have dared come up with it at any other time, or to any other girl. The more he thought it over, he began to breathe faster as Amber turned away, holding her hair back and fanning her face in an attempt to calm down. It was a wild plan, that was for sure, but the exciting secret she had shared with him not even two hours earlier fit strangely well into her new predicament. And suddenly it all became so perfectly clear, that Jake was speaking before he even realised it. “Amber, this is your chance.” He said, quiet. Confident. “Chance for what?” She asked, despondent. “He saw your face. He threatened your life. Clearly you need to disappear.” Jake said. “I don’t wanna leave L.A!” Amber cried. “I begged my parents to move here from Ohio when I was fourteen, this is where I’m meant to be! I can’t give that up just when I’m about to start my career, just because of one fucking assho-“ “Amber.” Jake took her by the shoulders, cutting her off. "That's not what I meant. He knows what you look like. So you could either leave... or you could change." She was listening now, the certainty that he spoke with seeming to calm her enough to let him get his idea out. And he was excited, the more he thought about it the more he fell over his words in his haste to get them out. “Think about it. You don't want to hide away in Albania for the rest of your life, and despite what seems to work in the movies, dyeing your hair just isn’t enough of a change to gamble your life on." Jake levelled his eyes on her, speaking slowly, landing each word with impact. "But you told me, only a few hours ago, that you wanted to change the way you look and now that’s-” Amber's eyes widened when she realized what he was talking about. "No!" She exclaimed, face reddening. “Oh- no, no, no.” “Amber, get fat.” Jake held her by her petite waist and looked deep into her frightened eyes. He could feel her shaking. “It makes sense. If you put on even a half of the weight that you told me you wanted to, I bet you'd be damn near unrecognizable.” “I-- I can’t!” She stammered, not meeting his eyes, embarrassed by her earlier admission. “I can’t do that.” “Why not? You said you wanted to.” Jake said. “You do want to, don’t you?” She hesitated, clearly embarrassed. “...I was drunk.” “I know you were.” He said. “But were you telling the truth?” A long pause hung between them. She was sober now, stone cold sober. Time, shock, and fear had wiped away any trace of inebriation. She’d have no excuse for anything she said now, no way to explain it away if she regretted letting him in on her most private, darkest fantasy.

“Yes.” She said, finally. It was a half-whisper, she barely made a sound. Heat rose in her cheeks as the realization of what she had just admitted hit her. She closed her eyes. “Yes.”

Jake’s eyes were dark when she looked back at him, pupils blown wide and whole body seemingly vibrating with excited energy. “Then do it now.” He said. “This timing, it means something. You can pile on weight, as much as you like - you can transform yourself, and it might just save your life.”

“But… it doesn't happen that fast, Jake! It won’t be much of a disguise if they’re watching me slowly f…” Amber wet her lips, still not used to saying the words anywhere other than in her own head. “F-fatten up. He'll have enough time to kill me before I look any different at all.”

“Then we’ll leave.” Jake rushed his words, excited. “Just for a while. We’ll take my car and we’ll leave town tonight. And from the second we reach the city limits until when we return, we’ll stuff you full of so much fattening food that the Amber who comes back to L.A. will be in no danger of being recognized.”

She took a step back, more out of surprise than anything else. What was that word he had used? “We?” She asked. “You want to… be a part of this?” “Yeah.” Jake admitted. “Desperately.”

Amber studied him carefully. For the first time that night, he was the one under scrutiny. And, considering the night she’d had, he supposed that was fair. “Do you like this?” She asked. She sounded half accusing and half intrigued. “I thought you were just interested earlier because it was a crazy thing to say but it's more than that, isn't it? Come on. After what I’ve told you, if you don’t think it’s weird, then fucking put me out of my misery and tell me!” “I don’t think it’s weird.” Jake said, before he could stop himself. “I like it. I... I-I want to see you get fat, too. I think it’s really hot that you wanna do that to yourself.” Amber’s mouth had fallen open, and for a moment she was just silent. Jake let her process. They were still standing out in the open, barely a few blocks over from where they had run from. There was an urgency to move, but this revelation of their shared understanding caused a sudden calm to fall over them as well. ”Okay.” She said. A small smile crept onto her face, and her eyes twinkled as excitement swelled inside her. “Yes. I want to.” Jake sucked in a breath. "Are you serious?" Amber nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Yes, I want to do it. I need to live in Los Angeles, I'll regret it forever if I don't. And I won't risk my life, I have so many plans. A reason like that to get big... it's... it's perfect."

It made a kind of sense. It sent chills of excitement through them both to think that such a hedonistic act could save her in this way. It was permission. The moment Amber had said okay, reality started setting in. Her head swam with questions, thrill, fears. Despite the years spent fantasizing, she had no idea what it was like to be fat. How it felt, not only to be fat, but to become fat - to grow a thin body fatter. Did it hurt? Was it uncomfortable? And what about the embarrassment? Her face would change, maybe after enough weight no one would be able to recognize her. Maybe not even herself.

#weight gain story #wg story #wg fiction #gainer fiction #wg writer #weight gain #weight gain writer

15 notes · View notes

i-simp-for-gintoki · 3 years

Text

JuJutsu Kaisen school headcanons

“some jjk school headcanons? not with a reader or anything but just how itadori and the other first years are in school?”-anon

This was pretty fun! Each character is pretty short but it still turned out longer than it needed to be oops.

So we all know that theres a proper private school to teach upcoming shamans. Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College...thats a long ass name no wonder i didn’t remember it. But in the manga and anime, they dont exactly go into details of what they do for the school(i might be completely wrong just lemme know)

In the yuuta 4 chapter story, we kinda get a glimpse

Gojo is one of the few teachers and he teaches first years in a small classroom. i dont know what exactly he teaches but sometimes they go outside to train and well when yuuta and the others were training i forget if he was actually teaching anything. Like he gave him a sword to help with his powers and gave a brief explanation but thats about it.

Anyways.

Itadori Yuji:

Is late to class for the first couple days since he doesn’t remember the lay out of the campus

Its so huge for so little people

Sometimes he’s late just cause he slept in

doesnt really understand whats going on

He only just recently learned this world existed so of course he’s out of the loop with everything

he probably naps in class alot or spaces out

‘If i were to feed sukuna’s mouth on my hand...where would the food go? What would happen? How deep does it go? What the hell has my body become??’

As his thoughts continue to derail, gojo would call on him and he might yell in response

he often asks megumi or nobara for help but they just dis him or ignore him

He tries to study! He really does! But he gets distracted and loses focus quite easily

during training he gets super excited thinking hes going to unlock abilities

but thats quickly shot down and hes usually just forced to do something really mundane like run laps or jumping jacks

He might get another dummy to help control his cursed energy while gojo does his best to annoy him (honestly it doesnt take much for gojo to be annoying)

believes everything gojo says

The blindfolded teacher definitely uses that to his advantage

“if you lick this rock it might help your overall abilities” “...really?” “are you doubting your sensei?” “is that...mud?” “Its just part of the rock. Besides you ate a rotten old finger for power im sure you can deal with a little bit of dirt”

He got sick for a week

Fushiguro Megumi:

Hes the kid who sits by the window and just stares out of it the whole class

He finds gojo’s teaching style incredibly annoying

Yes he learns stuff but because of the way Gojo teaches it, he ends up doubting all the knowledge he knew before in the process

Probably does well on tests or whatever homework their assigned

This kid probably makes himself a neat little bento for lunch

During lunch Yuji saw it and asked if he could have one next time instead of always buying food

He rejected his request for a while

But eventually he decided ‘why not its not like it would take that much more effort’

Nobara saw and was like “oh so you made one for a dunce like him but not me?”

Queue a large sigh

Within a month or two he makes everybody lunch (gojo included because he got tired of him always coming by and swiping a bit of food from everyone)

During training he pets his animals quite a bit

When gojo demonstrates a new self defense technique, megumi always gets picked to help demonstrate

110% of the time it ends up with his face being smeared into the floor

Wont ever admit it but he kinda enjoys class with yuji and nobara

Kugisaki Nobara:

Pretty short since i don’t quite know her character that well sorry

I feel like shes a mix of passing but also failing idk

Like during some tests she’d pass with flying colors and without a doubt will show off to the boys

But in other things she’d completely flunk

Draws little doodles in the corner of her notes and thinks about her childhood friend

During training she dislikes learning hand to hand combat

Mainly because she knows shes not capable of beating yuji and that ticks her off

So instead she beats him with her rubber mallet when given the chance

When yuji asks her to join him and megumi, she often complains or makes sassy comments but she never really ignores them

If she wanted to she could just hang by her self but she enjoys being with the two

Gojo Satoru:

This guy never shows up on time

Once he almost did so he simply turned around and decided not to show up at all

He doesn’t necessarily dislike teaching, but he finds giving detailed explanations kinda boring

‘I just told you what would happen, so why are you asking for a reasoning of the reaction’

He wants his students to have a fun teenage life so he often cuts class short by an hour or two just to hang out or go out

He explains how to counter certain types of curses or what to do in some scenarios pretty well

Gojo tries to teach regular stuff like math or history but...i dont know actually

Im not sure if he would happily teach it or just give up after a couple problems

I have a feeling he might just randomly give stupid hard problems and laugh as the first years struggle and fail to solve it

If any of his students do well on a test he’ll give them a small treat

And it may be small for him but its probably hella expensive

I mean he literally just wears clothing that is a couple thousand dollars each

His socks are most likely worth more than my house and everything inside it

Theres probably a small rule book of what he’s supposed to say and what hes not supposed to say

So just to piss the old man off he says everything he shouldnt

He encourages stupid behavior and absoluetly loves it when Yuji and Nobara thanks him for getting treats

#jujust kaisen #jjk headcanons #itadori yuji #fushiguro megumi #kugisaki nobara #gojo satoru #jjk

89 notes · View notes

bts-ficrecs · 4 years

Note

hey!! can you recommend a few series (any member)? thank you very much!

“a few” hAHAHAHA you’re really funny.

Bro, why’d u have you make ur request sooo broad 😂 i tried to reign in the crazy and failed. I decided I’m going to give you a list of series that are sitting impatiently on my to read list! Making this list makes me want to devour them all right now lol.

Feel free to go through my archive to find series that I have read, cause there are plenty of those too :”) So without further ado…

Note: please be aware several of the ongoing series are either on hiatus or discontinued or just haven’t been updated in 17392 years lol. I know some people can’t deal with that so do make sure to check if the writers are still active and/or when the last update was! And don’t pressure the writers about updates kthxbai ❤

ONGOING

Aristocrat by @itskimtaehyung

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 3/4

Summary: In which Namjoon pays you for your *ahem* services.

A Valediction: Forbidden Mourning by @therealredraven

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 4/? (discontinued)

Summary: Love comes in many shapes, but does not always have a prosperous fate. However, whereas parents might have found it, all the children can do is live in kalopsia. Forbidden yet denying the mourning of the path chosen for them by Fate.

Blood Princess by @mintchockookie

Genre: angst

Parts: 9/?

Summary: Choi Y/N is one of the most dangerous and feared members of Papa Choi gang. But she doesn’t want to be. Kim Nam Joon is the leader of the biggest gang in all South Korea and craves revenge for having his godfather being killed by Papa Choi. When their paths cross, nothing can hold them.

Untold Stories by @interludemoonchild

Genre: fluff

Parts: 8/?

Summary: A series of drabbles based on Namjoon owning a bookshop in a small town.

What Am I To You? by @honeyedhoseok

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 2/?

Summary: To Namjoon, she could make the salt taste like sugar on her hands. But in the end, she isn’t as sweet as he believed her to be.

COMPLETE

Best Friend!Namjoon by @lamourche

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 3/3

Summary: “I locked the keys in the car.”

Passionfruit by @joonbird

Genre: smut

Parts: 4/4

Summary: To you, matters of the heart have always been simple. You’ve always lived by three rules: you don’t do emotions, you don’t do attachment, and you don’t do love. That is, until you meet the enigma that is Kim Namjoon- a man who shakes your entire world upside down.

Piercings by @personawife

Genre: smut

Parts: 2/2 + 1 (feat. Yoongi)

Summary: “What’s that sticking through your shirt?”

Rumor Has It by @jjungkookislife

Genre: smut

Parts: 2/2 + drabble

Summary: After hearing a rumor about your best friend, it's all you can think about.

Tear by @polaritae

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 3/3

Summary: Getting the attention of your crush seems impossible. Good thing your best friend is always willing to help out!

ONGOING

Dame-De-La-Nuit by @cyphahobi

Genre: fluff, smut

Parts: 2/?

Summary: First night on the job turns into a week long adventure of business and pleasure. Landing business man, Kim Seokjin as your first client, turns your whole world upside down.

Evanescent by @jinletgo

Genre:angst, smut

Parts: 1/?

Summary: You’re a journalist-aspiring secretary to Kim Namjoon, the CEO of Telescope, a leading lifestyle and culture magazine. One night with a handsome and charismatic stranger ignites a passion and excitement that you didn’t know you had. When that stranger turns out to be Kim Seokjin, the print journalist of a rival magazine, the simple life you take for granted and dream career you’d been working towards are left in jeopardy…

King of Hearts by @thecozywhaleshark

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 9/10

Summary: You are a famous writer who can’t exactly show up to an event alone… so you hire an escort… his name is Jin.

The City Comes Alive by @minflix

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 1/2

Summary: Being a street performer, Kim Seokjin sees many nameless and forgettable faces each and everyday. But there is this one girl that he can’t seem to forget. Maybe it’s because his heart seems to fall in love with her a little more each time she passes him by.

COMPLETE

Aperitivo by @bangtanbetchfics

Genre: smut, feat Jungkook

Parts: 2/2

Summary: On the heels of a breakup, you fall hopelessly in lust with two pastry chefs on your vacation in Venice.

Burden by @neonlights92

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 8/8

Summary: After the death of his wife during childbirth Kim Seokjin is unable to hold his baby daughter without grief taking control. Just three weeks after the love of his life is taken from him so suddenly, Jin is expected to marry somebody new. You are foolish and have spent your whole life pining after Kim Seokjin from afar, even after he marries your best friend, Seul. But suddenly Seul is gone and you are expected to marry Jin and raise his child. You know your heart is already in it, but what about his?

Alt. Summary: A marriage to Kim Seokjin was all you ever wanted. But not at the cost of your best friend’s life.

Don’t Wanna Fall by @9uk

Genre: fluff, smut

Parts: 4/4

Summary: After your boyfriend breaks up with you, you are in need of company. Strangely enough, you get more company than you had initially wanted.

Alt. summary: His world revolves around wealth, power and most importantly—women. He’d spoil every one of them by his side or on his bed, with limited edition bags and expensive heels. So why is the CEO of kim corporations currently buying you a pet bunny?

In The Bleak Midwinter by @pcyheartgirlx

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 25/25 + 2 different endings

Summary: We’re all whores, we just sell different parts of ourselves.

Peach Parfait by @jamaisjoons

Genre: fluff, smut

Parts: 2/2

Summary: You and Seokjin have always been at odds as the top two chefs at Big Hit Academy of Culinary Arts.

The Devil Wears Armani by @floralseokjin

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 5/5 + drabbles

Summary: You never imagined accidentally attempting to sell your soul to the devil would lead to this…

ONGOING

Addicted by @yoongiandchiminie

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 4/?

Summary: Suga, the Stealth and Weapons guy of Bangtan meets his Soulmate with a bang. He’d grown up believing in the idea of finding the person he was destined to be with and won’t let her get away. Even if she’s addicted, he’s determined to help her. He just wants to save his Blue girl.

Choices by @btsiguess

Genre: fluff, smut

Parts: 4/?

Summary: You didn’t think that when you woke up this morning you were going to go out and buy a hybrid. But really, ending up with this stupid cat might be the best thing that ever happened to you. Much to both you and Yoongi’s chagrin.

Grey Area by @blushoseoks

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 13/?

Summary: And just like that, your fate was sealed - because min yoongi was absolutely going to destroy you. But hell if you weren’t going to let him, or bask happily in the flames as he did so.

Reputation by @mindayss

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 1/?

Summary: Min Yoongi’s got quite a reputation. As do you.

COMPLETE

Di piano e forte by @justoneday-namjoonii

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 6/6

Summary: Piano; A keyboard of cypress, played with soft and loud. Was it the ivory and onyx keys that let you escape from your reality…Or was it the man with sable hair and ivory skin.

Errantes by @cno-inbminor

Genre: fluff

Parts: 2/2 + Epilogue

Summary: Yoongi accidentally gets spiked pumpkin juice, but it’s not by alcohol. More like it was spiked by a Love Potion – Beguiling Bubbles, to be exact – and Sora may or may not have had a hand in this. The point is, she’s hoping Yoongi will never find out and she’ll be alive to take her N.E.W.T.’s.

Fragility by @writtenyoongi

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 3/3

Summary: “There are a lot of fucked up things about me, you know? And there’s a lot of fucked up things that have happened. But when I’m with you all of those things, yeah they still exist but it’s like they’re a lot further away, I don’t feel as if they’re eating me alive.”

Long Time Coming by @an-exotic-writer

Genre: fluff, angst (?)

Parts: 6/6 + drabble

Summary: In which it’s been a long time coming since you’re meeting Min Yoongi once more.

Private Lessons by @baeseoul

Genre: smut

Parts: 2/2

Summary: “I have an idea,” Once he saw how you straightened in your seat, your gaze flaring with aggravation, he continued quickly, “For every question I get right, you tell me something about yourself.”

Skin Deep by @aquaminwrites

Genre: fluff, smut

Parts: 10/10

Summary: Yoongi has never—and presumably will never—like tattoos.

ONGOING

Bygones Of The Sun by @scriptaed

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 3/?

Summary: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the rises sun has gone into hiding- because perhaps its shadows have out-shines its own radiance.

Euphuistic by @guksthighs

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 2/?

Summary: Hoseok’s delivery of flowers does not go as planned when it starts raining and someone mysertious gives him an umbrella.

Plant A Kiss On These Tulips by @honeyedhoseok

Genre: fluff

Parts: 2/?

Summary: After your boss, Jisu–head wedding planner at Ornate Events–develops a ragweed allergy, you are put in charge of working with the florist company In Bloom. But instead of their top-notch flower arrangements, their incredibly radiant owner Jung Hoseok proves to be what catches your eye over the course of the months that follow.

Salted Caramel by @your-miss-right

Genre: fluff

Parts: 9/?

Summary: She liked him…a lot and she just wanted to get the point across. Too bad the wrong guy got it. Note to self: Check orders before writing little notes to the wrong customer!

Starfire by @readyplayerhobi

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 6/?

Summary: The schism that broke the galaxy began, as it usually does, over a disagreement. The resultant civil war has raged for hundreds of years. When a ragtag group of travellers discovers something that could turn the tide of war, for good or for worse, the bonds of friendship and love will be tested.

Note: ok but basically just read all of Tali’s Hoseok series sdjfakjaf

Wall to Wall by @winetae

Genre: smut

Parts: 1/4

Summary: Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman. Your agent comes forward with a proposition to help put you back on the map.

COMPLETE

By Its Cover by @crystaljins

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 8/8

Summary: Your annoying little brother Jimin accepts a dare and summons a demon into your living room. There are multiple problems with this. 1) Demons are the most hated species on earth. 2) That demon happens to be Jung Hoseok, the most popular guy on campus 3) The fact that Jung Hoseok is a demon is his biggest secret and 4) Jung Hoseok hates your guts. You’re in for a wild ride.

Life in the Fast Lane by @sugaxjpg

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 1/3

Summary: Hoseok was not someone who expected to find love, even less under the conditions he met you—bleeding to death in an alley, unable to go to an hospital without being recognized by the ones who did such thing to him. Though, he would soon learn that the best things in life are the unplanned, kind ones. Especially the kind ones.

The Black Book by @honeyedhoseok

Genre: smut

Parts: 9/-- (discontinued)

Summary: Being personal assistant involves doing a lot of different tasks for your boss Jung Hoseok–including setting up his rendezvous with his black book clientele.

The Gentlemen’s Club by @brookelegend

Genre: smut

Parts: 15/15 + Epilogue + author’s note + drabbles

Summary: You’ve been in a dating drought, more specifically, a sex drought. Your best friend has the perfect remedy for your problem: The Gentlemen’s Club.

ONGOING

Contraband by @leadermon

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 11/?

Summary: If you had known what you had known now, would you have gone? If you knew who you would meet, the boy with the bright orange hair, and how getting wrapped up in him would tear all your brother had built to the ground, would you have gone?

Crossroads by @honeyedhoseok

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 4/?

Summary: You summon Park Jimin, the crossroads demon who rather than taking your soul and granting you wish, wants to become an extremely annoying life companion.

induratize by @hobiwonder

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 5/?

Summary: Prince Jimin had grown up despising people from your empire and vice versa. When your father weds you to the crowned Prince of Haelyra, your kingdom’s sworn enemies, as a form of alliance to fight a greater evil, you struggle to make sense of your new life as the future Queen to be and deal with a husband who cannot stand you.

Jealousy Games by @avveh

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 3/?

Summary: You decide to play a game of push and pull with your ex Jungkook, bringing Jimin along for the ride.

COMPLETE

Handyman by @drquinzelharleen

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 5/5

Summary: Jimin is your landlord’s son. After one stressful day he comes to fix your shower for you. You find yourself constantly thinking about him. Could he be the perfect submissive?

I’ll Never Be Her by @anon-luv

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 5/5 + Epilogue + drabbles

Summary: You loved him with all your heart, but he could only give you half of his. Jimin was the love of your life, your night in shining armor when she wasn’t around. She was his ex girlfriend, his first love, actually she was his many firsts and she kept coming back. He had warned you she was his weakness, but you didn’t listen, because to you having him even if it was only partially was better than not having him at all. At least for now.

Neighbors by @jkeuphoriadreamland

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 7/7 + Epilogue

Summary: Finally achieving your successes in life you never expected the distraction that came with your new hot neighbor. He however, had been trying to get your attention for a much different reason.

Nine One One by @yminie

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 2/2

Summary: When murder and crime threaten the city of Seoul, there’s a team in place to help keep the public safe, but just what do you do when all your training is to help others, and the one that needs help is actually you?

Limerence by @jiminscenarios

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 14/14 + Epilogue

Summary: He was a coldhearted asshole and the leader of South Korea’s most wanted gang, whereas she was an innocent and kind college student. They were polar opposites, yet he was so infatuated with her. But opposites are supposed to attract after all, aren’t they?

Love Yourself Trilogy by @threeletterslife

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 3/3

Summary: Excelling in every school subject, acing every math test and conquering the academic world is something you do as easily as breathing. As your residential social outcast nerd, you live rather as a recluse, talking to almost no one except for your dear ol’ cousin and that sweet boy in a few of your classes—Jungkook? was that his name? Befriending your ʰᵒᵗ AP stats teacher was the last thing on your high school senior agenda… but when life throws you curveballs, it is what it fucking is.

ONGOING

Begin Again by @writtenyoongi

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 4/?

Summary: Things had been tough since your divorce from yoongi, you were still heartbroken over losing him whilst trying to balance being a single mother and providing the best you could for your daughter. When Kim Taehyung enters your life you start to learn how to love again, but the beautiful man is not without his own source of heartbreak.

The Client by @jungkookiebus

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 2/?

Summary: Your services applied to many types of people and you were good at what you did, delivering sexual fantasies. This particular client happens to be your personal favorite for more reasons than one.

Van Gogh by @btsjeonjazz

Genre: smut

Parts: 1/?

Summary: Who would have guessed that Kim Taehyung, honorable student and your tutor, had some dark secrets?

V2 by @honeyedhoseok

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 9/12

Summary: This series is reader-insert revolving around Taehyung and his long-term surreptitious relationship with Y/N.

When You Least Expect It by @johobi

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 12/15 + drabble

Summary: You’re in love with your childhood friend, Taehyung. The problem is, you treasure your friendship with him far too much to ever risk losing it. Oh, and he’s quite the Casanova. At your wits’ end with feelings you can no longer hide as diligently as you once did, you ask him to set you up with someone, anyone, in a last ditch attempt to avoid a heartbreaking conversation.

COMPLETE

Change by @junghelioseok

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 9/9 + Epilogue

Summary: A kind, handsome stranger makes you question your deteriorating relationship.

One Good Purr (Deserves Another) by @jinpire

Genre: fluff, smut

Parts: 4/4

Summary: Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to visit Taehyung just before your heat. (Or to ask if his best friend was available.)

Summer Love by @analovegirl

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 3/3

Summary: It was Summer when he lost his whole world, his family and his identity. And it’s summer again when he comes across the girl he swore was his enemy. Join Taehyung, as he tries to find his true identity– as a human and as a merman, along with the mystery of his parent’s demise.

The Chrysanthemum Effect by @rosaetae

Genre: angst

Parts: 10/10 + Epilogue

Summary: Keeping your flowers, keeping your pain— it’s already everything you need to move on. How do you move on from things if you’re not willing to accept them?

Yarn by @dreamhimcloser

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 2/2

Summary: The mere idea that someone will kiss you while you slept made you shiver with disgust, but your educators promised you time and time again that this is exactly how you reach true love.

ONGOING

Block Party by @minlucent

Genre: smut

Parts: 2/?

Summary: Moving into your new apartment brings back memories of your biggest mistake.

Employee Perks by @chiminiemoans

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 3/?

Summary: Sure, the employee perks at your job were bonuses, life insurance, sick leave, health benefits etc. etc., but the best employee perk of all was working with a man known as Jeon Jungkook.

In Debt by @ichirakukpop

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 2/?

Summary: All your life you’ve been taken care of by your rich father and his money, but when a someone named Jungkook barges into your home demanding for his money back, your life is turned upside down.

Serendipity by @rohobi

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 10/13

Summary: The occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way. After forgetting to click out of his pornhub incognito tab last night, you find yourself shoulder-to-shoulder with Jungkook at 3am watching the rest of it.

COMPLETE

Anima Meaology by @arckook

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 4/4 + Epilogue

Summary: Your best friend was never supposed to know that his name was on your wrist.

Falling Skies by @fortunexkookie

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 6/6 + drabbles + spinoff oneshot

Summary: Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely.

Goldilocks by @perpetually-jungshook

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 10/10 + drabble

Summary: After getting evicted, your two best friends Jimin and Taehyung offer you a place to stay until you get back on your feet. Needless to say, with a part time job and a mountain of student debt, that’s not happening any time soon. Eventually, they DO become really fond of having you around, helping with chores and even splitting rent. So when you come home one day to find someone has been sleeping in your couch-bed, well… it’s something you won’t take lightly.

Oath by @bangtan-yeonghon

Genre: angst

Parts: 33/33

Summary: What if one day everything you ever wanted is taken away and your whole world comes crushing down? If you were to forget today, who would you be tomorrow?

Watch Me Babygirl by @lunarimagines

Genre: fluff, smut

Parts: 20/20

Summary: Jungkook is your brother’s annoying best friend. You can’t stand him but he just can’t resist teasing you. How far will he actually go?

Will You? by @jungee

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 2/2

Summary: Jungkook + you = prom dates??

ONGOING

Bangtan Crossing by @mintedmango

Genre: fluff

Parts: 4/?

Summary: You step off the train in the quiet of dusk with a relieved sigh, just looking at the awakening of some stars and the bottoms of trees of this countryside town in awe. It was so different from the city, so dark at night, not lit up by thousands of street lamps and buildings turned on in the wee hours of the evening.

Lifeline by @forgottenpasta

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 6/?

Summary: What happens when a witch curses seven vampires to share one fated mate between them?

Lueur De Lune by faery_kth (AO3)

Genre: fluff

Parts: 5/?

Summary: Your recent move has caused a lot of stress and you decide to take a stroll by the little lake behind your house only to find the moon and her fallen star.

Over the Moon by @threeletterslife

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 6/8

Summary: You feel isolated in the vast American country with no one but your older brother and your six rowdy friends to keep you company. But when they disappear without a trace, you’re left with nothing. Nothing until you become dragged into the world of the mob. The mafia world promises glory, fame and big bucks. But that comes with backstabbing, pain, regret and vengeance behind the veils. You’re not ready for that alone. Are you?

Potions, Magic, And Otherworldly Charmers by agentlemanshat (AO3)

Genre: fluff

Parts: 3/7

Summary: Have you ever imagined Namjoon as a high-end witch? Jungkook as a werewolf or Jimin as a merman? And a magical world full of possibilities? Well, look no further! Because here is where it happens.

Twisted Tails by @kmseokjins

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 4/?

Summary: After the death of your older sister, you're suddenly entrusted with her two hybrids. Who knew that following your sister's wishes would eventually turn your life upside down.

Void by @btssavedmylifeblr

Genre: angst, smut

Parts: 6/?

Summary: You are the only female crew member on a 12 year space mission with seven handsome men. The sexual tension is real, y’all.

COMPLETE

A Fairy Tale’s End by @bangtan-dreamland

Genre: angst, fluff

Parts: 8/8 + Epilogue

Summary: You wanted, for once, to be someone important, someone needed- to be wanted and appreciated, to love and be loved. Well, you should be careful what you wish for.

College by @btslibrary

Genre: smut

Parts: 7/7

Summary: A 7-part BTS smut series.

Hybrid House by @hollyhomburg

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Parts: 3/3 + Epilogue

Summary: To Seokjin, Home consists of his human partners Namjoon and Hoseok as well as their Hybrids; the pups- named Taehyung and Jimin, their black cat- called Yoongi, and their foxboy- called Jungkook. Together they have the happiest family possible, everyone loves everyone equally. So what happens when Namjoon finds you? A cat hybrid, beaten close to death left alone in an alleyway on the coldest night of the year? He takes you home, shows you his family, and together they teach you what love can be like.

congratulations you made it to the end....lol. enjoy all these fics and give the authors lots of love, okay? 🧡

#bts fan fic #bts fic recs #namjoon fluff #jungkook fluff #yoongi fluff #taehyung fluff #seokjin fluff #hoseok fluff #jimin fluff #g recs #g replies #anon

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