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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Murder, He Wrote

Part 4 Co-Written with @southerngracela

Summary: Ransom shows you a softer side, but when the table flips he leaves you with no doubt that he’s still just as dangerous as he has always been…

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

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is Part 4 to our submission for @jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. My writing partner @southerngracela is currently on an indefinite hiatus from Tumblr, and I’ve sadly no idea when she will be back. However, this chapter was pretty much finished before she took her break and the rest of the series is also planned out to finish, so as per her blessing before she took time out, I’m intending on finishing what we started.

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

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

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 3

True to his word, Ransom had let you spend the day with him after Blanc's visit. It was a day interestingly enough your mind wandered back to, if not for the change in scenery, but for the change in his demeanour. A couple of weeks had since passed from then, but the memory was burned in your brain. And since, you'd spent far more than just a day above the confines of your room. Almost every morning since he’d ‘allowed’ you to make breakfast and most mornings, unless he was heading out to wherever he went, he then let you stay upstairs with him whilst he plugged away at the book he was writing. That in and of itself had come as a shock to you, to learn he was an aspiring author for sure, but you had simply nodded and encouraged him when he had told you. And you had quickly realised that when he was busy writing, you could get busy reading one of the many books or writing in your journal while sat in the large study and he left you pretty much alone.

Which is where you were currently sat now, curled up on the leather sofa as he sat at his desk, tapping away at his laptop, your journal open in your lap and a leather bound copy of ‘Great Expectations’ lay next to you, the page marked waiting for you to pick up from where you had left off the previous evening. As you thumbed the pages of your journal to find the next blank page, you had to smile at the little doodle of a Christmas tree that caught your eye in the top right hand corner of a page you’d written a few days back, the day you’d convinced Ransom that he should at least get one Christmas Tree. He’d obliged, had one; only the one, delivered and permitted you to decorate it how you’d wanted to and even managed a little smile when you stepped back and proudly showed the finished product to him. Then, of course, quid-pro-quo, he had had expected something in return which you’d given, because let’s face it, he’d have taken it anyway.

You’d seen a softer side to him that day, and not for the first time either. Granted, non-asshole Ransom wasn’t an everyday feature by any stretch of the imagination, but you’d seen it twice now. You paused, and then thumbed back a few pages to the day you were now remembering, the day you’d first been confronted with a very different Ransom to the one you were used to dealing with. One that came out of nowhere.

It was a wet day, an early winter storm passing through New England. You were sure it could have snowed but instead, it was just wet and cold. He'd come down with breakfast, instead of inviting you up. He'd brought you warm oatmeal with cream and cinnamon, a small bowl of blueberries on the side and a pinch dish of raisins, having forgotten how you took your oatmeal. A cup of coffee, steaming on the tray. He'd set up your breakfast on the table and sat across from you, not eating. He hadn't even brought coffee for himself.

You'd assessed his mood as morose, distant even. You didn't press, but rather waited for him to out himself and his particular mood. You'd come to recognize when he was thinking and this morning, he was all thought and no presence.

"I'll be gone most of the day," he finally came clean, just as you'd finished your oatmeal.

"Okay," you replied. He hadn't ever really announced his plans to you before. He'd just come and go at all times as he'd liked, never leaving you home alone without the doors locked. This willingness to let you in on his plans for the day fielded a small red flag in your mind and if you were honest with yourself, you felt like this was a test. He said nothing else, just picked up your breakfast dishes and left.

In the time he was gone, you'd managed to shower, nap, write and read. You were growing hungry for dinner, having had to skip lunch in his absence. Then you heard it, the tell-tale signs of his return. The clicks of doors and sounds of boots on the floor above you. The jingle of keys, and a few failed attempts at unlocking your door. A 'fuck' and a 'God damn it' before the door opened and there he stood. Soaked to the bone, dressed in all black from his coat to his toes. Was that ice on the tips of his hair? Was he drunk or just having a moment? Fingers frozen from the cold.

'Jesus Christ, you're soaked.' You said as you took him in. His lips looked a little discolored, his skin more alabaster than ivory. Throwing caution to the wind, you grabbed your throw from the chair as you passed it by. 'Get that coat off,' you pulled at its thick woolen collar. The heavy fabric peeled away from his broad shoulders and you let it fall to the floor. You heaved the throw over him and pulled it closed around his thick chest. 'You're not getting sick and leaving me here to rot.'

You moved to give him some space and guide himself further into the room, but ice cold fingers wrapped around your wrist and you stopped dead in your tracks. Your eyes moved upwards from where his hand swallowed you're wrist, along the wet fabric of his black sweater, water droplet covered neck, to eyes that were lost and distant, just as they were that morning, but much worse.

You were nearly as frozen as his fingers were, not sure what to say or do. Worried about consequence. So you just stared back.

'Thank you', it was barely audible as the words poured from his lips.

'Of course.' You weren't sure what he was thankful for but you replied anyway. Cautiously, you continued, 'Will you come sit down? Do you want something warm to drink?' You wanted to ask where he'd been but that was a slippery slope.

'Not here,' he replied.

'Upstairs then, in the lounge,' you suggested. He nodded and turned on his heel, a glance over his shoulder to see if you were coming. You followed, pulling your cardigan around you tightly as the chill from the basement filtered through you, or was it coming away from him, you weren't sure.

You'd thought the lounge was where you were headed but instead, he'd headed for the kitchen, taking a seat at the table there. When he didn't provide instruction or conversation, you inhaled deeply and thought of something to warm you both from the inside-out. You felt his eyes on you as you gathered the ingredients you needed, cocoa, chocolate chips, milk. The cinnamon sticks from the cupboard. You were careful not to make too much of a clatter as you pulled the sauce pan from under the counter.

In minutes, fresh hot chocolate was in two steaming mugs with whipped cream and freshly grated cinnamon. You handed him a mug and then sat across from him, your mug between your fingers. You watched as he sipped from his mug, blowing a little on the liquid before his lips touched it. His eyes closed as if he was stuck in a memory, his expression softening.

His eyes opened and he sighed, 'I can't remember the last time I had something like this. I was just a kid, my nana was still alive. It amazes me how they turned out from the two of them.'

'Money changes people,' you commented. You assumed 'they' meant his family, or at least more specifically, his mother and her two brothers, one of which had been gone for years.

He scoffed, 'fuck my family.'

Throwing caution to the wind, you asked, 'is that where you were?' You couldn't have guessed, given he was usually extremely angry and frustrated when he'd spent time with anyone in the Thrombey-Drysdale family tree.

He frowned and nodded.

'What happened?' You couldn't resist.

'Harlan's memorial.'

'Oh' . You said unable to think of anything else to respond with, because really what else could you say. He’d attended a memorial for the grandfather that would still be alive had it not been for him.

'Oh, indeed,' he mused, long fingers flexing around the mug. 'Surely, you’ve figured out I wasn’t particularly welcome.'

You couldn't say more, he wasn't wrong. You bit the inside of your lip and swallowed hard. He needed comfort. But would you give it to him? Was he deserving of that? Hell no, but your heart ached for him a little. It couldn't have been easy. But maybe this was his punishment for avoiding the ultimate consequence.

'Go on, say it.'

'Say what?'

'That I deserve it.' He looked at you, 'I know that’s what you’re thinking.' He leaned back, 'maybe you’re right.'

Well, that threw you. 'I don't know what I'm thinking, to be honest.' You leaned forward, intending to slip the mug from his hands and take them in yours, but you caught yourself and stopped. That was a step that you weren’t quite ready for, or willing as might be more accurate, to take. 'But, I can tell you're hurting and despite what happened, how it happened, you deserve to say goodbye without the rage and selfishness that got you here.'

'Well,' he leaned back and took another sip from his mug, 'that’s certainly not what they thought. Meg assured me I'm still the stuck up prick without my trust fund.'

A small smirk played over your lips, barely noticeable, 'fuck your family.'

'Careful, Sweetheart,' he smirked, but there was no threat in his words, not this time. He was genuinely amused.

You managed a slight shrug, 'If there’s one thing I learned from writing about you and your ridiculously entitled family tree, it's that each and every one of you is all about everyone for themselves.' You took a deep breath, waiting for the repercussions to fall. 'What happened, happened. Now, this is what you have, so own it.'

You flinched a little as his hand reached to scrub at his clean shaven chin, finger tracing his bottom lip as he studied you for a second before he took a deep breath and reached back for his mug. 'I think you need to make this for me more often.' He stated simply, and just like that, the deep foray into his emotions and psyche was over, and the barriers were closed once more.

'Sure.' You nodded. 'Whatever you want.'

At that he gave a little scoff. 'Sure, whatever I want.'

Silence filled the room again, your mind not sure what to make of that last comment, and his was clearly working overtime, you could tell by the way his eyes were still glazed as he simply stared down at the mug in his hand. The rest of the time you sat by the table was quiet, and you were surprised to find yourself a little disappointed. This was the first real meaningful conversation you’d had with him since arriving here. Sure you’d talked, but never once had you got any insight into what exactly made him tick. You’d learned more in the last ten minutes or so than you had in the entire six weeks you’d been his captive.

His captive.

The words echoed in your mind and you swallowed as you remembered exactly what it was you were doing here. This wasn’t by choice, this man wasn’t your friend or your lover, he was your captor, keeping you for his own entertainment, which he was no doubt going to be seeking from you again tonight.

'I think I need a shower,' he leaned forward, disturbing your thoughts.

'Okay,' You replied. 'I'll, uh, well you know where to find me when you're ready for me. Anything in particular you'd like me to wear tonight?'

'No, not tonight,' he answered with assurance, his voice carrying a low yet soft tone. 'You can go read or whatever it is you do when I'm gone.' You blinked, temporarily dumfounded and he looked at you, snorting a little. 'What? You want me to come and have my way with you?'

'Is that a trick question?' You blurted out before you could stop yourself, before you swallowed and waited for the admonishing, but it never came. Instead he chuckled and shook his head.

'Didn’t think so.' With that he rose from his chair, reaching for your empty mug as he passed. His fingers lightly brushed yours and you were jolted by the sudden sparks that flew up your arm and you took a little breath as he passed, depositing your mugs in the sink. Without another word he breezed from the kitchen for the first time, leaving you alone in the room.

It left you perplexed. Completely and utterly perplexed. He never left you alone, even the weeks on your cycle he’d found other ways for you to satisfy him, with your mouth or your hand for instance, but tonight…

Taking a deep breath, you headed back to your room. You didn’t even look at the main door to the house, there was no point. It was always locked and you knew what the consequences would be if you left. Besides, you wouldn’t get far. Not to mention you had no idea where you actually where and the thought of being outside alone in the dark, frankly scared you to death. No, you were better here. At least you knew it was warm, and familiar.

You headed down the stairs and got ready for bed. You settled in with your book, and after a while your ears pricked up as you heard footsteps outside your room. You swallowed, clearly he had changed his mind. But, as you set your book aside, it wasn’t the sound of the door opening followed by his feet padding down the stairs that you heard, it was the lock clicking as he shut you in for the night.

The sound of the doorbell jerked you away from your memory. Ransom frowned and looked up from the screen of his laptop before his eyes caught yours and he gave a little smirk.

“Expecting someone?”

You rolled your eyes at his asshole joke and he chuckled to himself, grabbing his phone. As he saw who it was at the door his good humour slipped from his face and without another word he rose from his chair. He paused in the doorway and turned to you. “No funny business, remember…”

“Yes, I know.” You replied quietly. “You know where my family are.”

He hesitated, almost as if he was about to say something else, but he didn’t. Instead he turned and left the room to answer the door.

The study wasn't far from the lounge merely the next room down, and the lounge was closest to the door so you tuned your focus to the voice speaking with Ransom. You recognized it and suddenly found yourself adjusting your tee and duster, making sure the cuffs on your jeans were even. You could hear the distress in his tone, the guest was unwanted and you hadn't realized you were now in the hall beside him. You noticed he took a step back towards you, as if he knew you were there.

Linda Thrombey's eyes raked over you, in shock and disbelief. “What the hell is she doing here?”

As she glared, you shifted uncomfortably, your hands pulling on the sleeves of the duster sweater you wore as you swallowed.

“She’s with me.” Ransom replied, his tone even.

“With you as in 'with you'?” Linda turned her eyes back to him, distaste evident on her face.

“Is that a problem, Mother, because you know where the door is.”

It was a problem, you could see it in her face as she once more looked at you, but instead of sniping back she simply took a deep breath and cleared her throat.

"No, I just wasn't aware you'd have company." Her eyes flicked back to Ransom who simply shrugged.

"Since when did you know anything about what I do on a daily basis, Mother?"

"Don't start, Ransom. I'm not in the mood and I didn't come here for a fight."

"Then pray do tell, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Can you stop being such a sarcastic little shit for once in your life?" she snapped.

You stilled a little, your eyes flicking to Ransom and you were surprised to find that instead of the usual anger you expected, his face remained passive on the whole, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something that, well had it been anyone else you'd have sworn was concern. But Hugh Ransom Drysdale wasn't concerned about anyone but himself...

“What’s happened?” he asked, his voice still gruff but there was a softer note to his voice. Linda took a deep breath and she shook her head.

"I felt a call to tell you wasn't appropriate and this needed to be handled in person." She fixed him with a look. “It’s your Greatnanna Wanetta. She died last night, Ransom.”

You froze, hearing the news leave his mother's mouth and you suddenly felt sorry for him. Ransom, stood there stoic, his eyes fixated on his mother.

“Was it peaceful?” he eventually asked, his voice measured.

“In her sleep.” Linda replied, her tone soft.

Ransom stayed silent for a moment, his chest rising and falling slowly as he took deep breaths. His expression was unreadable as he simply looked at his Mother, before he raised his eyebrows inhaling slowly.

“Was there anything else?” He exhaled, and Linda simply shook her head at him, a huff of annoyed laughter escaping her.

“That’s all you have to say?” She asked, incredulously, as Ransom shrugged with a petulantly nonchalant air, and you saw Linda’s face redden as she exploded "Oh for God's sakes, Ransom, you really are such a selfish little bastard, aren't you?”

“What do you want me to say?” He asked, his tone measured. “You said it was peaceful and she didn’t suffer.”

“No, I said she went in her sleep.” Linda corrected him. “I imagine she did suffer, how could she not after everything that happened, huh? Hell, she probably died of a broken heart”.

At that you saw Ransom’ nostril’s flare as his eyes burned into Linda’s face, a flush of red rising up his neck.

"Get out," he deadpanned. When Linda made no attempt to move, Ransom stepped forward yanked open the front door of the house, gesturing with his arm. “I’m not gonna ask again. Go.”

"Ransom..." Linda tried to strong arm her way to stay.

"Are you deaf or just fucking stupid?" Ransom replied, his voice didn't even raise in volume but something about it made you shiver. He was positively frightening when he was in this frame of mind.

You watched as Linda gave him a final glare and stepped outside without so much as a glance back, the slam of the door behind her making you jump.

Ransom saw his mother out but didn't return to the study, in fact he ignored Y/N's presence in the hall entirely. Instead, he sulkingly moved towards the wet bar in the lounge. He didn't even bother with the glass, he picked up the first bottle he could wrap his fingers around and white knuckled the neck, spinning the cap off, it clinking to the floor. He downed a long pull, the amber liquid burning sinfully as it coated his throat, his eyes stinging but not from the booze.

“Are you okay?” Y/N’s soft voice startled him as he hadn’t heard her enter the lounge. Taking a deep breath, he wiped his hand over his face, and turned to look at her, his jaw clenching.

“Did I say you could leave the study? Did I say you could join the conversation with Linda?” His voice was steely, flat, but he knew full well that she understood that to mean he was pissed and she visibly recoiled in the doorway, her eyes widening. When she didn’t answer immediately he slammed the bottle he was holding down on the bar top, and when he spoke again his voice was louder as he demanded an answer. “Did I?”

“No.” She answered with a quiver, “But I…”

“But I…” he mocked, sneering before he scoffed. “You know considering how smart you’re supposed to be, at times you’re really fucking stupid.”

Y/N blinked a little, and opened her mouth to talk but she fumbled over her words as she frantically began to apologise, which simply served to irritate him even more. With a frustrated growl he reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up to look at his.

"You do as I say, when I say it. That rule has NEVER changed," his voice was filled with venom. “I didn’t ask for your sympathy. And I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“That’s not...” she whimpered slightly, and the grip he had on her face tightened causing her to cry out. “Hugh, please!”

And there it was, that fucking name.

You immediately realised your mistake as his face burned red and his lips curled up into an ugly sneer.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…you were hurting me and…”

“You think I give a shit?” He spat, and the hand suddenly released your face only to wrap painfully in your hair. Without so much as another word he began pulling you from the room, ignoring your shouts of pain and protest as you wrapped both your hands around his wrists, desperately trying to get him to release you. But it was no good, the more you struggled, the tighter his grip became.

Before you knew what had happened he’d dragged you to the door that led to your room and down the stairs, your feet slipping slightly, causing you to stumble, harshly banging your knee on the bottom few steps where he finally released you, shoving you harshly. Your balance already gone, you stumbled and collided harshly with the side of the vanity table, the pain in your cheekbone causing you to yell out once more as the stars exploded in front of your eyes.

It took you a moment to shake off the daze, and when you finally did you looked up to see his retreating back heading up the stairs, slamming the door behind him. With a gasp you slumped down, your back against the wood of the dressing unit, your hand reaching up to your tender face. From somewhere upstairs in the house you heard another door slam, then a moment or so later there was a roar of an engine, which was followed by nothing but eerie silence.

Hugging your knees to your chest you let out a sob as the tears streaming as uncontrollably down your face.

***** All he could see was rage. Red, hot, firey rage. He slammed the basement door and didn't miss the bar cart on his way out, a full bottle of top shelf scotch in his hand, coat and keys in the other. He drove for miles, no destination in his conscious mind but a rather interesting one in his subconscious.

Headstones came into view until his SUV stopped at the end of the grassy knoll where the mausoleum stood surrounded by trees. He climbed out of the car, bottle clutched in his hand and shut the door behind him, simply leaning against the dark metal of his vehicle. For a long while, he didn't move, he simply stared at the entry, gulping large pulls of the scotch as he stared. His thoughts raced and raced, almost making him dizzy. It was that or the fast burn of the booze.

It felt like a flash of his life replaying in his mind. His great-nana, his grandparents, his parents, a life of entitlement growing up, parties, recreational drugs, booze, women, his fight with Harlan, his sudden plot to commit murder and then the crime, his arrest, and then the visions came to a halt with a mind bending pain and at the end of that pain was Y/N.

Her face, her scent, her voice. The way she felt beneath him, around him…those breathy, little moans, sighs. They’d connected recently, Ransom was sure of it, ever since he’d invited her upstairs and let her do something as mundane as cook. They talked more, engaged more, he no longer fucked her and left, instead he’d dress and hang around for a while, and he liked it. But then, today, after his Mother’s visit, those eyes which had mesmerised him from the moment he’d met her had once more reflected fear and confusion.

And Ransom didn’t like it.

Where that fear had, at one point, given him a buzz, now it simply served to remind him exactly how things had been when he had first taken her, and he didn’t like that one bit. He’d grown to crave the other things, like the way she would touch his arm or squeeze his hand. The way she smiled and spoke. The way she made him feel human, not some ghastly, beastly monster capable of killing someone. But he hurt her, more times than he wanted to admit. He hurt her and did things to her, he was vile and despicable. He WAS those things everyone said.

He was a fucking monster.

He felt the upheaval of emotions begin to collapse around him and he fell to his knees. The sting started and he couldn't stop it. An outpouring of emotions, years, decades even of built up anger, resentment, unhappiness, disgust, fear, pain all erupted in a strangled cry as his chest heaved and his heart raced. Salty steaks of tears wet his cheeks.

And all Ransom Drysdale felt in that moment in time was utter defeat.

His Greatnanna, the only other member of his family who truly ever cared about him, that remained on his side or remotely understood him other than Harlan was now gone and the realization of loneliness hit him like a ton of bricks. His body shook, his chest ached, his mind grew numb and all he could do was cry.

What the fuck had he become, WHO had he become? What did he do? Why did he do it? This was all his fault, Harlan didn't deserve to be cold in the ground. He did this, all of this. Again, but why?

He had absolutely no answer other than because he could.

It grew cold, dark, and late. The scotch was gone, his eyes burned and he couldn't breathe through his nose. At this point he didn't care if he made it back in one piece. He was a piece of shit and deserved everything that came to him by way of a tragedy. He climbed into his SUV and tried to collect enough sobriety to drive towards home. Towards her.

******

You had no idea how long you sat on the floor, but by the time you finished crying and had mustered enough about you to move; you were cold, stiff and aching from sitting in the same position for so long. Your face hurt from the blow you’d taken against the dresser, your knee hurt from where you’d banged it but all that paled into insignificance to the pain that was going on inside your chest.

You didn’t understand why Ransom had flipped like he had. For a few weeks now, things had been okay between you, good even. He’d been reasonably amenable to most of your requests and dare you say it, almost happier in himself. But all this served to remind you what lay underneath that façade. A dangerous narcissist with the ability to swap his face and mood at the click of a finger.

Or, in this case, a visit from his mother.

You wiped at your face, hissing as your fingers brushed your tender cheekbone and with a slight whimper of pain you pushed yourself up off the floor and stumbled over to your bed where you lay down and curled up, hugging your pillow to your chest.

You must have dozed off, because the next thing you recall it was dark and you were still cold. Whilst the basement was equipped with heaters, you couldn’t shake the chill from your bones so you decided that your best option to warm up, and ease your aches and pains was a nice, hot bath. Stretching out slightly, you gave yourself a moment before you pushed yourself up, flicking on the lamp on the nightstand before you got up and headed into the bathroom, flicking on the light.

You paused at the basin unit, glancing at your reflection and you swallowed at the sight of the bruise that was already forming around your right eye and cheek socket. Swallowing the emotion you felt at seeing your face marked once more in such a way, you turned your attention to the bath and the suddenly remembered that the other night Ransom had presented you with a bag from a Boutique you liked that sold home-made soaps and bath bombs, clearly having been in one of his good moods that day. You had yet to unpack it all and put it in the bathroom, so, deciding that you were going to use one tonight, you turned to head back and grab the bag, but as you emerged into the main part of your room, you were stopped short as a thick chest, covered in a ribbed white tee, a hint of a cardigan peeking out as broad shoulders kept warm by a camel coloured coat blocked your path.

You gasped and felt your belly drop out. Your body immediately began quaking in fear as he stood so close to you. You cowered away, taking a half step back but it wasn't enough to put space between you as his hand gently grabbed your upper arm and pulled you into his chest, a shriek emitting from your voice.

"Don't," his voice cracked. "Don't scream, I'm not gonna..." his words trailed off and he just shook his head.

He held you against him. You were sure he could feel you trembling as his large hands pressed against your back. You inhaled a deep, shaky breath through your nose and was met with his scent. He smelled so good, like an expensive aftershave with hints of amber and sandalwood, cedar and vanilla but there was an underlying, distinct aroma of alcohol, scotch you suspected, unless you were mistaken.

You felt his face press into your hair as he took a large, shaky deep breath, as if he was inhaling your scent, which he exhaled before he pulled away, his hands cupping your face. He tilted your face slightly so he could examine your left cheek and you saw him swallow as he took in your bruising. Something stirred behind his eyes, a sad melancholy that you’d seen only once before crossed his arrogantly handsome features, and his head dropped slowly to yours. He held your jaw in his big hands, his lips on yours. You didn’t fight, fighting was futile, but as the kiss continued it soon became clear that this wasn’t like any of the times he had kissed you in the past. No, this one was soft, like a need to just feel you pressed against him. His plump lips pulling yours in and holding you there and you realised, from the lingering taste of something sweet yet ever so slightly tinged with sour, that your suspicions were correct.

Despite your earlier fear, you willed yourself to relax into the relative comfort. It was like he was back to how he had been before his mother had visited and whilst he was in that frame of mine, you knew you were safe, so keeping him there was in your best interests. Your fingers moved from your sides to his chest, the ribbed tee rough against your skin. You continued your movements as his mouth pulled you in just a little more until he traced his tongue over your bottom lip. Your fingers moved out to and up the lapels of his coat, the soft texture like a cottony suede under your fingertips, before settling on the back of his neck, his smooth skin and hairline a definitive juxtaposition to feel. He didn't balk or pull away as he had done previously when you’d tried to show him affection, and you continued to respond to his kiss, your touch seeming to be a comfort for him and in the back of your mind you wondered what had changed to make him act this way. He broke away and rubbed his nose along yours, almost as if he were touching a butterfly, soft and unsure.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." He continued to whisper, over and over. A soft, barely there kiss to your bruises and broken skin and more words, "Let me take care of you."

You were scared to admit that this felt good, the way he was being gentle, apologetic even. Pain radiated from his body once again, like it had just a few weeks ago, his eyes telling you everything he was feeling. The outpouring of emotions there were hard to ignore. You weren't sure if forgiveness was in your repertoire, but compartmentalization was. You looked back at him, and with a slow blink, almost hypnotized, you nod in reply to his request.

Long fingers reached out and tucked a tendril of hair behind your ear, the other hand simply cradling your jaw. You swallowed hard as he bent down and placed his lips on your neck. Your body shivered at the feel of his mouth warm against your skin. His breath hot on your ear, “do you trust me?”

"I don't know," your voice was breathy as you replied.

“Let me fix this," his voice wavered. It was a question, not a demand. He nipped at your skin and you shivered again from a combination of desire and disgust at the way this asshole could make you feel, how traitorous your damned body was.

Ransom felt her breath hitch against his touch. She wasn't fighting him, she wasn't combative, she was...receptive. The thought nearly made him crow for, in that moment, he could feel her trust in him coming in, even if she couldn't verbalize it. He was debating on his lips devouring hers but he was... oh God, he was actually afraid of losing her in the moment. Of her closing herself off. No, he thought, it's best to wait. Ignoring the throw blanket on the floor and the mugs of cocoa on the table, Ransom held her face in her hands. "Do you trust me?" He asked again. She swallowed hard and blinked again, slowly. It was as fair if a reply as he'd get. He could see the war in her eyes, her mind battling with her feelings, her heart. "Stay here."

He left her standing there while he started the hot water. He could feel her eyes on him, watching his every move. He felt different, better even, from the moment he sought her attention when he'd come home. He started the tub faucet and as he brushed past her again, he shucked his coat, tossing it on her bed. He took a small bag he'd brought her earlier in the week and carried it with him. He emptied the contents of a small vile like bottle and watched a moment as bubbles began to firm in the hot but tolerable water. With the bath filling, he sighed to himself and turned to face her.

He peeled his own dusty blue cardigan over his shoulders and let it set over the basin unit. He pushed the sleeves of his white thermal up his forearms and held his hand out to her. She hesitated but slowly slipped her hand in his. He pulled her close and his hands gathered the lapels of her cardigan and peeled it away from her. Underneath her cardigan, Y/N sported a firm fitting white tee and jeans that looked well fitted for her hips and ass, toned legs, bare feet curling into the tiled floor. Ransom salivated as her nipples hardened through the material. He realized she had no bra on under her tee and his hand gently slipped under her rib cage, his thumb padding over her pert nipple. He lifted the thin white tee away from her body and tossed it to the floor. He was half hard just at the thought of her naked under her clothes and now he was solid. Discomfort growing by the second.

A hooked knuckle traced down her sternum, between her breasts and along the center of her taught stomach. He watched as goose flesh covered her exposed skin. As his knuckle reached the waistline of her jeans, he took to his knees, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses to her belly, just above her flies. With just his fingers, he undid the button, unzipped the zipper and the peeled the material away from her legs, all the while deep blue eyes peered up at her. He wasn't disappointed to find she'd still worn panties under the rough material, in fact he was delighted. His eyes roved down to her black, lace panties and he reached out, fingers gently tracing long the detailed waistband. Those came down next and as she stepped out of the material, Ransom's hands traced patterns up her leg, faint kisses to her thigh, her hip, her belly. He stood and admired Y/N, completely bare, with less than a foot of space between them.

Ransom hummed, his right hand reaching out, pads of his fingers again trailing a path down the valley of her heaving breasts to her navel. He paused as her breathing hitched and with a smirk his hand dropped lower still, over the faint tuft of hair he insisted she kept groomed, his fingers slipping into her folds. She gave a soft gasp, eyes widening as he continued to tease her, her hands reaching to up to grasp at his biceps as he played with her. She was wet, so wet from just this little bit of play and with a sharp flick of his wrist, he pushed two fingers inside of her.

He leaned forward, mouth brushing the shell of her ear, “Just say the words and I’ll make you feel so damned good, Sweetheart, like you’ve never felt before.” Ransom pulled away, removing his fingers from where they’d been, his hand curling on her hip, sticky with her essence. He backed her toward the tub's edge, his forehead pressed into hers. All motion stopped the second the back of her legs touched the tub. "Get in," he whispered.

You sunk down into the water, the aromatic smell of calming lavender swallowing your senses. Bubbles covered your body, to the point they tickled your collar bone. You eyed him kneeling as he reached over you, grabbing the natural sea sponge loofah and dipping it into the water before he squeezed it over your skin, gently scrubbing. Your face once more met his and you carefully watched him as he exhibited a patience you had never seen from him before. Those blue orbs bore into you, but still he made no move to take you.

And it was unnerving.

But then, as you stared into those deep, icy blue pools something suddenly clicked in your mind. He wanted you to want him. That was what this was about. He’d spent his entire life with people who regarded him as unworthy of love or any kindness and he was seeking validation. Whilst you could see he was genuinely hurting, you also still knew this man was violent, angry, had taken you without your permission, taken what he wanted from you and when. You knew he would take what he wanted tonight too, regardless of what your answer was, the moment for you to back out had been and gone.

But something felt so good about his touch that you were shivering in anticipation of more rather than in fear and the feeling of enjoyment on your mind started to overpower the feeling of disgust in your belly as your core tightened with each breath you felt against your skin. You blinked, your head a whirl, as you were shamefully turned on despite the depraved nature of this entire situation. You broke from your thoughtful trance as a hand cupped your face, a thumb pad tilting you chin upward just a pinch to look at him,

"What?" You whispered.

"Let me in?" He asked, his tone a bit contrite and hopeful.

When she nodded in a slow reply, Ransom felt his stomach drop out from under him. Butterflies grew to take flight like an albatross deep in his gut. He dropped the sponge in the water and stood tall, towering over the tub. He reached behind his neck, between his shoulder blades and pulled the thermal over his head, his hair catching slightly on the fabric. He ran a hand through it to straighten it back up and tossed the garment to the floor. He watched as her eyes grew noticeably wide as they roamed over his taught, well-formed abs, his bare chest. He flexed a little, his muscles twitching as he focused on the buckle and flies of his pants. He'd kicked his boots off as he'd undone his belt, the clank an ignored sound as all he could do was watch her and she him. Ransom allowed the material to fall between them, his pants hitting his ankles and he was quick to slip out of his pants and socks. He palmed his hard cock through his boxer briefs as she watched him touch himself.

He could see the change in her, the look of desire and lust in her eyes. The way she was admiring him now, rather than cowering at him. She was appreciating what was before her. His pale skin, his sculpted body, his naked form. He’s seen her, stripped her bare. But normally he's pulled his dick out and just fucked her. This was uncharted territory, this was new. And he liked it. He liked the way she was looking at him, feeding his ego and willingly participating. This, yes, this was something fun for him. And oh yeah, she wanted this, he could see it all over her.

One foot, then the other, Ransom stepped into the tub and sat opposite of her, careful to avoid the faucet. The water felt inviting, the company even more so. Her one leg nestled between his legs while the other just to the outside of them. She slid her left foot up close to his thigh, bending her leg at the knee. At this new comfortable position, his fingers started drawing intricate circles along her shin and calf. He watched her inhale deeply and tilt her head towards her shoulder, observing him.

As you watched him, carefully, you saw him swallow, the hollow of this throat constricting a little before he took a deep breath, his touch on your leg still feather light. You wanted to lose yourself, give into the desire that you were feeling whether it be wrong or right, at that point in time you were past caring. You were in this position, nothing was going to change that, so was it really wrong to want to feel something more than fear? It was like there was a game of chess being played between your mind and heart, your gut and will.

And then, Checkmate, the idea came to you. You had a chance here to keep Ransom satisfied but on your terms. You had the power. And as long as you kept it that way you could control his temper and his actions, and get what you now shamefully admitted to yourself that you wanted. And the realisation that you had the winning move here was almost liberating.

Ransom shifted a little, the water sloshing around him as he sat up, his chest poking a little further out of the water as he studied your face, and you waited to see what he would do. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, he was clearly going through a mental battle himself and eventually he licked his lips, his gaze dropping to your breasts which were just under the water line and he swallowed once more before his hand on your leg stilled and he squeezed your calf muscle gently before he moved, leaning forward, his large hand once more resting against your cheek as he drew you in for another deep, gentle kiss.

You leaned into him, letting his lips works softly against yours as your hand dropped under the water and grasped his solid cock, giving him a gentle stroke. The kiss stuttered immediately, and he let out a choked groan as his eyes flew open, locking onto yours.

“Sit back.” You encouraged, and he did just that, his back once more resting against the top as you followed him, your hand remaining soft but firm enough to keep drawing those noises of satisfaction from his throat. His head tipped back as he let you take control, his Adams apple bobbing, eyes closing as no words left his lips, no dirty talk, no hissed little demands about what depraved position he wanted you to adopt, nothing. You held the power, and that turned you on in a way it really shouldn’t.

He gave a strangled hiss as you gripped him tighter and then you shifted, letting go to allow yourself to move your right knee to his left side, following with your other, his eyes flying open, a look of surprise on his face as you lined yourself up and his hands reached up, surprisingly gentle as they rest against your hips. There wasn’t much room, but it was doable, and you sank down onto him, his eyes flying to your hips as you both gave a little whimper as he filled you completely.

His fingers flexed against your skin, blunt nails biting ever so slightly, as you remained still, your hands sliding up his chest, curling over his shoulders. He was tense, coiled like a spring, clearly fighting back the urge to slam up into you and you began to work at a little of that tension, fingers rubbing up and down his neck, the index on your right trailing that vein that was bulging along his throat. His eyes never left yours until you softly began to knead at the strained muscles along his shoulders and neck, massaging deeply as you worked at the knots, his hands still resting on your hips, contracting every so often as you found a particularly knotty spot.

Every so often, he would make the slightest of movements, simply because he was relaxed and you could feel your walls fluttering sporadically, just from being full and stretched to your fill. But, still he made no move to take over, until at one point you hit a particularly knotty area at the point his neck met his collar bone and he gave a little jolt which caused you to groan and he opened his eyes, searching almost for permission. When he found no objection, his hands gently started rocking you.

The pressure and friction on your clit was boiling. It was slow and burned in a way that was so delightful it was almost painful. And, before you could stop yourself you were rolling into him as he kept that same delectably slow rhythm, rocking you back and forth slowly, deeply, before one hand left your hips and grasped the back of your neck, pulling you down for a deep kiss.

Ransom pulled away from her, breathless, his forehead against hers. The words were barely heard, but he knew he said, "I want you..."

"You have me," she replied in a soft whisper.

"Not here," he shook his head, their foreheads rubbing. He glided his nose against hers.

He missed the way she felt around him the second she managed to stand and slip out of the tub. Ransom was quickly behind her, following, bubbles and water dripping to the floor from them both be damned. He followed her to the bed where she stood at its edge, her eyes inviting him. He took a seat, bare ass and thighs soaking the comforter, knees bent over the edge. His eyes roamed her body, taking her all in. His own deep appreciation for her firm an awakening in his soul.

Slowly, just like she had in the tub, one knee slipped passed a hip, the other following. His lips were on her breasts, inhaling the scent of the oils and bubbles clinging to her skin as his tongue traced a hardened nipple and then the other. As he did so, she sunk back down his shaft again, a guttural groan escaping them both. She was ready, the thick vein of his cock giving a seductive friction against her wall.

Ransom ran his hands up and down her back, long index finger tracing up and down her spine as hot open mouth, needy kisses covered as much skin as he could. His hands splayed over her shoulder blades as his hips met her grind, catching her as Y/N arched into his movements. Her head tipped back, sheer wanton pleasure radiated from her with a heat he could almost feel. His mouth moved to the spot he knew drove her wild on her neck under her ear and the little whimper she made was nothing short of delectable.

As he began to lean back towards the mattress, he rolled her body against his, bringing her down with him. He planted his heels against the comforter and scooted them both to the center of the bed, still buried deep inside her. With a hand back to her hip, a gentle grip keeping his own pace with her rhythm, the other tangled in her messy hair as his tongue dove deep into her mouth, savoring each pass her own tongue made against his. He could feel her body flutter against him, sweet kisses her walls made against his solid cock. Her hands braced herself against his broad chest as she sat up, riding him with fluid, long rolls of her hips and he shivered, despite the searing fire between them. He was no longer fighting that desire to take control, he was more than happy to let her take the lead and respond accordingly, dare he say he was enjoying it. The slowness and sheer intimacy was something he never knew he’d craved until now and as she gave a particularly desperate roll of her hips he groaned, "Fuck yeah, Baby, just...like...that..."

A gasp and a shudder ran through you, your walls clenching down on him as a rush of power surged through your entire body. You rolled your hips deeper against him, the friction against your clit nearly too much. You brought your eyes down and looked down at his face, strong jaw, piercing eyes, his thick bottom lip sucked between his teeth. You had full control over him, beneath you he was as powerless as you had been made to feel. "Oh, God," you’re ready to sing a song of pure ecstasy as your body coils and tightens under your own volition. The signs of orgasm were just...right...there.

As you felt a deep thrust from his hips, hitting your sensitive and perfect spot within, your head lulled back and you felt his name roll off of your tongue, "Ransom...."

At the sound of his name spilling from her mouth Ransom gave a groan. It wasn’t Hugh, or Drysdale, it was Ransom. The one thing she had refused to say from day one and she had finally let herself go enough to give in to what he knew she wanted. His chest swelled, a warm feeling flooding from his toes right to his head and he surged up, his lips on hers, the kiss sloppy as with an easy movement he flipped them both so she was underneath him, all semblance of self-control now lost as her voice echoed round his mind, the soft, sultry way in which she’d cried his name repeating like a prayer.

"Gimme one more, baby, just one more..." his hips were thrusting hard, but not painfully so."Say it again, please," his voice was laced with fire and emotion, a whimper or sob nearly on his lips.

"Ransom...." she replied coming again and his fingers gripped into her skin, holding her in place as his seed shot deep into her, filling her, his entire body shaking, no nearly convusling as he came.

Breathlessly, they laid there, his body gently caging her in, her fingers curling around his neck and into the nape of his hair.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and you blinked, not quite sure you’d heard him right.

“What for?” You asked, your breath still punctuated by your gasps as you came down from your high.”

“For trusting me.” His nose nudged yours and you looked into his eyes, “for forgiving me.”

“I’m not sure I have.” You replied honestly, and a frown furrowed his brown before he sighed and closed his eyes, his head hanging a little.

“That’s fair, I suppose.” He looked back at you before he moved, pulling out of you and immediately you missed his presence, the heat of his body gone as he rolled to his side. You waited for him to rise and dress as he usually did but he made no effort to move. Instead he lay still, looking up at the ceiling before he turned onto his side, his fingers gently trailing down your bruised cheek as it brushed the soft pillow when you turned to look at him.

“Can I stay?” He asked.

It was a pointless question. Because, let’s face it, you didn’t have a choice. If he didn’t want to go he wasn’t going to, and it wasn’t like you could leave. But, nevertheless, the fact he had bothered to ask you in the first place was another first. And you found yourself suddenly believing that if you did say no, he would leave.

Instead you nodded, and he gave you a small smile, not a sneer or a smirk, a genuine smile that lit up his handsome face as he leaned over and pressed his lips tenderly to yours.

Together you managed to get yourself under the duvet before you reached up for the lamp and clicked it off before settling on your side, facing away from him.

“My err, my cheek hurts.” You said quietly, offering him an explanation as to why you’d turned your back on him. He gave a small sigh and one of his arms snaked under your neck, the other curled round your bare body, resting just underneath your breasts. He gave your shoulder a gentle kiss, another unspoken apology before you felt him tug you back into him, your back pressing against the hard wall of his chest.

He was the first to fall asleep, his body spent as was yours but you laid there still feeling the electricity roll through your muscles, tiredness settling into your bones. You had given him what he wanted but kept your ground and done it on your terms. It's what he'd needed this entire time, to hear his name from your lips, to be wanted to be cared about, to be "loved". You internally scoffed. To be loved... you doubted he had any idea what that actually meant, to be loved unconditionally. But as you’d questioned the other day over hot chocolate, was that really his fault?

This situation was fucked up. What you were doing was fucked up, but, if giving him what he wanted and what he needed kept you in the driving seat, so to speak, you could work with it.

**** Part 5

#murder he wrote #ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #dark ransom x reader #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you

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wangxianficrecs · 3 years

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Follower Recs

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Hi! First of all, thank you so much for running this blog, It's become one of three reasons why I haven't yet committed arson (I jest but the Feeling is true). [Hee, hee, hee.] I have a rec for you! It's called "wholesome life usurp immediately" by comfect on ao3 and it's. So good. It's unfinished but the author updates it literally every other day if not faster! It's a lovely fic, I hope you enjoy it. 🌻

Wholesome Life Usurp Immediately

by Comfect (T, 55k, yunmeng sibs, qingli, wangxian, WIP)

Summary: Wen Qing examines Jiang Yanli at Cloud Recesses and has a cure for her poor cultivation.

Now there are Three Prides of Yunmeng.

Everything kind of fixes itself from there.

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hello mojo!! I would really like to recommend standing still (but we keep going) by lwjromantics!! it's really good!!

standing still (but we keep going)

by lwjromantics (justfantaestic) (T, 5k, wangxian)

Summary: Lan Wangji supposed that if having to take care of little A-Yuan and Mo Xuanyu and having to look at the reminders of Wei Ying in their habits and mannerisms was punishment for his actions, he would willingly take it and flay his own back open.

— There are children in the Burial Mounds.

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hii mojo! I just read this cute fic and I loved it so I wanted to rec it :)

Word Up, Talk the Talk

by Larryissocute (G, 2k, wangxian)

Summary: It wouldn’t have been a problem (it really wouldn’t) if they weren’t best friends. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what good deeds he did in his past life to be blessed with Lan Wangji as a friend nor does he know what evil things he did to be cursed with being only a friend to Lan Wangji.

Or the one where Wei Wuxian kisses Lan Wangji and then runs away.

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Hey! Love your account — and proud of you for taking the hiatus you needed. [Lol - it was really nice!] Idk if you take fic recommendations, but I'd love to rec Roots by ardenrabbit. Fantastic characterization, I really love it!

Roots

by ardenrabbit (E, 46k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary: After Wei Wuxian's duel with Jiang Cheng, he finds that stab wounds aren't so trivial when he doesn't have a core to heal them. He wakes to find Lan Zhan in the Burial Mounds with him, already beloved by the Wens and making himself at home. When Lan Zhan tells him that he wants to stay and offers more help than Wei Wuxian knows how to accept, he fears that it's only too good to be true.

Lan Wangji knows that Wei Ying is doing the right thing, and he couldn't live with himself if he let him do it alone. For everything Wei Ying has sacrificed, Lan Wangji is determined to give something back to him.

Hanguang-Jun has turned his back on the clans to join the Yiling Wens and their demonic cultivator leader, and every clan has a different opinion on the matter.

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Hello! I wanted to rec a fic on ao3 called "Restoration" by jelenedra. It's complete, an alternate universe of the sunshot campaign told nonlinearly. It has strong fairy tale and fae elements, with a touch of mystery. Bit of a fix it. Some delightful one liners, and the final ending imagery is just LOVELY. The fic deserves much more love. There's also some YilingWei, wwx not raised by Jiang, and sentient Burial Mounds elements. Enchanting read that keeps you enthralled and curious and intrigued.

Restoration

by jelenedra (M, 85k, wangxian)

Summary: They say he was thrown into Luanzang Gang by the man who killed his parents; they say that he is an immortal cultivator who had been in a deep trance until the Wen sect disturbed his rest and incurred his wrath; they say that he is the fierce corpse of a cultivator who had somehow regained his mind and his spiritual powers.

When Lan Wangji sees him for the first time, he understands why people talk.

Meng Yao wants safety. Xue Yang wants vengeance. The Sunshot Campaign wants victory. Yiling Laozu provides, for a price.

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I usually read all your recommendations. Thanks for gathering all good recs of wangxian. I am in love with every single story your recommend especially the favorites. [I’m so glad!] I just wanted to suggest a fic i came across while searching for phoenix!wwx. Its a new story I think as author has published it today. The first chapter was very interesting that i thought ill recommend it you and know your opinion. The legendary phoenix and his dragon -Devipriya and Hidden Path to Love by ShadowTenshiV

Hidden Path to Love

by ShadowTenshiV (G, 78k, wangxian)

Summary: Wei Ying is a servant working at the Gusu Lan castle. One day he enters through a secret passage way connected to the library where he meets a Lan for the first time. He may have left quite an impression, gaining the other´s attention and slowly becoming friends. They would like to become something more, but a servant can´t be with a prince, but maybe his secret can change that.

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hello mojo! i was wondering if I could make a fic rec? it’s called “and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow” by izanyas. it used to be on ao3 but the author has since moved it to eir own website and has started posting updates there. i was wondering if this could also act as a signal boost bc some old readers on ao3 might not have known that it is now on another website. Author's been through a tough time so I think it deserves a lot more love.

For new readers, please mind the warnings in the prologue and the beginning of each chapter! it’s omegaverse and a very heavy read as it deals with (possible spoiler) off-screen rape that results in an unwanted pregnancy, as well as secondary gender oppression which runs deep, but for people who can bear it the writing, worldbuilding, and emotions are truly spectacular.

and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow

by izanyas (E, 270k, wangxian, WIP, link is to WordPress rather than AO3)

Summary: Cangse Sanren was the first of her kind to become a cultivator. Talented, passionate, free-spirited, she bested everything that ever came her way until the very end.

Jiang Fengmian refuses to see her son deprived of that same freedom.

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Hello Mojo! I dunno if this's been recced before, but here's another ficrec for you? It's complete, on ao3, "The Third Young Master of Qishan Wen" by KouriArashi. It's 'if wwx was raised by dafan wen, but gets recognized as 3rd heir due to his skill' scenario. Some really nice banter and characterization. Wwx and lz get together before the sunshot campaign. Story follows the live action but diverges into au, and does some cool callbacks to original canon. Love Meng Yao in this! [Oh, I know KouriArashi from my last fandom, I love her works!]

❤️The Third Young Master of the Qishan Wen

by KouriArashi (T, 139k, wangxian, my post)

Summary: The fic where Wei Wuxian is adopted by the Dafan Mountain Wens instead of the Yunmeng Jiang.

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Hi Mojo! I can count the number of times I’ve spoken on Tumblr on one hand (I’m shy heh) but I found this fic that I think you and others would really like? I’m a sucker for emotional hurt/comfort and this was just too sweet for me not to share (did I go through 20 pages of bookmarks just to make sure you don’t already have it? Maybe …) [Aww, you can do a sidebar search in the bookmarks for the author’s name. But I hope you found other good fics by carding through the whole catalog!] It’s “Close Your Soft Eyes” by timetoboldlygo! I also wanna say thank you for all the hard work you put into this blog! It’s a treasure beyond compare. :D [Thank you so much!]

Close Your Soft Eyes

by timetoboldlygo (G, 12k, wangxian)

Summary: When Lan Wangji woke, the first thing he noticed was the slip of paper, folded and tucked between his index and middle fingers, not Wei Wuxian’s absence. His fingers trembled as he unfurled the paper. A donkey with a little smile beamed down at him.

On the nights that Wei Wuxian was gone, Lan Wangji woke to gifts on his pillow.

~*~

Hey Mojo! I love your blog it is beyond awesome! [Thank you!] I was wondering if you would consider reading JaenysBloodcourt series "A Bond to Takes us home"? The summary is weird but I like the fics and would love to hear your opinion on LWJ POV (it's part 2). Part one is Mingxian but part two (Wangxian) reads as a standalone for the most part. Anyways, thank you for all your hard work! <3 [I’ll put it on my list!]

A Bond to Take Us Home

by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 10k, mingxian - nmj/wwx, wangxian, series in progress)

Summary: Wei Wuxian has two soulmarks. He has two soulmates that seem to be the opposite of him. During his first life he meets both of them, loves only one and longs for the other. In his second life, the one he loved first is dead, and the one he pined after is pining after him.

These are the many tales of his soulmates and the raucous they made across the cultivation world.

Some are dark, some are light. Beware.

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I forgot to send this in for Mother's Day a few weeks ago, but have you read dragongirlG's "into the light of a dark black night"? It's a short canon divergence where Mama Lan escapes the Cloud Recesses after spending one last, heartbreaking night with her sons. It's so beautiful and bittersweet! [Oh, ouch. I just read this author’s time travelling juniors au, but hadn’t seen this one.]

into the light of a dark black night

by dragongirlG (T, 3k, Madam Lan & sons)

Summary: The night that Wu Yuhua, formerly known as Madam Lan, plans to escape from the Cloud Recesses, she runs into an unexpected complication.

That complication comes in the form of her younger son A-Zhan running up to her door and kneeling in front of it, hushed whimpers escaping from his throat.

Wu Yuhua knows it's not the full moon, knows that it's not the one day a month she's allowed to see her children—but like hell is she going to leave her six-year-old son out there trying to stifle sobs in the snow.

She opens the door. "A-Zhan," she says, bending down and reaching out a hand. "Come in, my sweet boy."

On a snowy night in the dead of winter, Wu Yuhua, formerly known as Madam Lan, unexpectedly spends one last night with her sons before escaping from the Cloud Recesses.

~*~

Hello queen I’d like to recommend for ur follower rec posts Avatar: The Untamed Waterbender by KouriArashi. Banger of an ATLA au, def the best one I’ve seen. It’s a WIP but the author updates pretty regularly and it’s all around an A+ fic [Oh, yes, I’ve been waiting for this one to finish before I jump in.]

Avatar: The Untamed Waterbender

by KouriArashi (T, 123k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary: You know the drill. Long ago, the four nations lived in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.

100 years later, Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli find Wei Wuxian sealed in an iceberg.

Featuring: avatar WWX, waterbending JC, firebending Wens, airbending Lans, earthbending Nies and Jins, Jiang Yanli in possession of the brain cell, et cetera.

~*~

[My ko-fi.]

#follower rec #wangxian fic rec #I HAVEN'T READ THESE YET #wangxian #mdzs #follower recs

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chiisai-fukurou · 4 years

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About my hiatus :)

Long time no see... It has been a while since I published an article here...

A lot has happened and I think I cannot look at my blog the same way I did... I’ve been to Japan again last December and it was wonderful. I’ve spent a lot of time helping my friends and a lot of time visiting a neurologist for some troubles I’ve had for as long as I could think. It took a lot of time off of my schedule that I had to work hard to get back.

For a long time I had to fight with that feeling of being alien and not being able to fit in. For as long as I could think a lot of things just went over my head and I couldn’t fathom some things that happened around me. I cannot share a lot of things people around me think and talk about. There has been this suspicion that I’m autistic for a long time now so last year I decided to bite the bullet and get an appointment for a diagnosis.

It took 7 month of waiting for me to get to my first appointment. I chose a reputable neurologist/psychologist because I’m not a fan of “I think I have XX and just need a doctor to sign the diagnosis I made myself.” because if you want to improve your situation an accurate assessment of your current status is kind of paramount. I had several, hours long appointments that were quite costly but to me it was worth the time and money I paid for it. It was a very interesting experience too. There is a lot of testing and there are a lot of questions being asked to make sure it isn't something else causing you these troubles. There are a lot of things that can cause similar symptoms that are not autism. So carefully getting to the bottom of things takes time and multiple appointments to make sure that a bad or a good day didn't impact the diagnosis. I had to get a MRT too to make sure it is not brain damage that is causing the symptoms. I’m happy to declare that my brain is okay :) I’m however impartial to the diagnosis of autism/Aspergers.

I’m very happy I did this. The diagnosis allows me to get adequate help should I need it and it helps me understand my surroundings a lot better. The neurologist had a great analogy for my situation too: Autists have a different operating system running their hardware. Stimuli get processed in a very different way and there is no filter or automation happening that could help you with even simple conversations... Hence the seeming inability of autistic people to do smalltalk... Imagine the hell that human interaction can be, having to think of every sentence you say because you cannot do it casually or automatically, not being able to read the mood, knowing that you disappointed or hurt people without any chance of preventing it in the future... To many people this sounds weird and like I’m not even trying... I’m and the Neurologist told me I’m really well adapted but there are limits to how well one can adjust. Basically “normal” people have a social autopilot that handles a lot of things for them and autistic people don’t. We can never really relax in a social event because we get battered with details that we can't filter out. It’s tiring and yet I wish it wouldn't be tiring... because I wish to share things with friends and people. It took some time to get things sorted and deal with this experience.

I’m fine and in some way I felt liberated and happy I finally know what is up.

I had to weed out some connections that caused me grief and think of many things that happened in the past. A lot of things make sense now :)

I had an accident too this year breaking my left arm (;_;) and some stuff on my bicycle... I had a strained neck too... the surgeon didn't want to believe how quickly my bones healed (°_°;) The crack that ran through 75% of my Ulna wasn't visible or detectable anymore after 3 weeks... The accident happened while I was riding at 40 km/h on my bicycle and touched a curb with the wheels... It happened after a long long day at work right when the whole COVID19 thing started to take off in Germany. I couldn’t get lunch at work and had spend the whole day on water with a empty tummy... I was tired, hungry and worn out. I just wanted to go home and didn't pay enough attention...

Anyway I’m fine now :) My bike is fine again too :)

However because of this a lot of tasks at work were piling up and when I came back I had to do a lot of stuff trying to get on top of things... Because I work at a company that makes medical devices the current situation kind of overwhelmed the company as well... basically we get as many orders per month as we used to get within a year... This is incredibly challenging as our suppliers often can't keep up with the demand but I’m very happy to report that everyone of them is doing their best to keep up and to stay on top of the whole situation :,) I’m happy i can do my small part in saving lives and I think that a company where people stick together and try to do their best in trying times is incredibly valuable :)

Last year, while travelling through Japan, I once again noticed how awful tourist spots have become (-_-) Japan is close to my heart and I like the country and its people a lot. Many tourists behave badly, not out of ill intent but out of ignorance... Japanese value quiet, peaceful and clean behaviour but a lot of tourists seem to be unable to behave this way... They litter, leave toilets behind that are disgusting, are rude, don’t pay attention and seem to think Japan is a theme park. I like this country and I’m saddened that other foreigners tarnish the image of visitors and are taking advantage of incredibly kind people who welcome you as a guest :,( I felt bad that I wrote all those articles that might have inspired this kind of people to go to Japan :,( I want this kind of people to stay at home. You're ruining it for everyone else. My friends cheered me up a lot. Still the sight of drunken tourists puking on Takao-San in Tokyo or yelling loudly in a group at a shrine, throwing their cigarets and garbage on the streets in Kyoto, running through the streets while yelling or necessitating the fencing in of neighbourhood shrines because some dippshit thought it would be fun to put graffiti on them makes me incredibly sad. I’m sorry for the negativity but this has been troubling me a lot.

I received some questionable messages too... I’m a guy but some people seemed to assume that I’m a Japanese girl for some reason...

Anyway I kind of came to terms with things and will start writing again.

I hope people will become more respectful over time :)

I’m sorry for the rant I put in this article m(_ _)m I felt like I had to get it off of my chest because this has been bothering me a lot.

P.S. if you think autism is caused by vaccines, being autistic is better than being dead or to suffer from the consequences of an otherwise preventable disease. You do not “get” autism, one of the conditions that has to be met to get a diagnosis is that you had to have symptoms right from the start. Things that can cause similar symptoms are brain damage, PTSD, ADHD (you are born with that too and cannot get it) and certain medications. These however are different from autism in that they have to be treated differently. Hence the focus during diagnosis on making sure not to diagnose one of the other things as autism. I showed symptoms for as long as I can think back.

I hope you’ll forgive me for my long absence and won't change your attitude towards me :)

I’m still me albeit more confident and accepting of myself since I don't need to pester myself with questions like “why didn't i understand that.”, “Why can't I do that?”, etc. :)

Thank you to everyone who read through all of this :) I wish you a great time with sweet daydreams (^-^)/

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buckysforeverprincess · 4 years

Text

Second Chances 2/2

Bucky Barnes x Reader, OMC Carter, OFC Emma

Words: 1515

Warning: Mentions of past drinking and gambling

A/N: It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything and out of no where I saw this gif and a part 2 of a previous fic came to me. I’m sorry for my hiatus and I have started to write again and things will come, but it will be slow going. Hopefully some of you are still here. I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think!

Part 1-I’ll Always Be Your Dad

Bucky laid on the floor, his white teeth shining from the bright smile he had on his face, Carter in his arms being played with as if Bucky were lifting weights, all while your son laughed uncontrollably.

“More, daddy… do it more…” Carter says breathlessly between laughs, his face red from all the excitement.

“Oh, you mean like this?”

Bucky brings him down to his chest and starts to tickle his stomach, your son writhing in fits of excitement, trying desperately to block his father's assault on his small body.

In your arms, Emma starts to wiggle, and you immediately pick up on her cues, setting her down and watching as she walks up to her father and brother and joins in on the festivities taking place on the playroom floor. Bucky’s eyes met hers and he stops tickling Carter and wraps his arm around her small frame, sitting up to kiss her softly on her pudgy little cheek.

“You wanna play too, Ems?” He asks with a smile.

She shines at the nickname and bounces on her dad, her stomach covering his face making him groan and her squeal in delight at getting the upper hand on her father. Carter uses that moment and starts to tickle Bucky, your ex pretending to be affected by your son's fingers.

“Help me mommy!” Carter yells for you, making you chuckle and shake your head. You decide to assist your boy in taking advantage of the predicament Bucky has gotten himself into and walk into the room, kneeling at Bucky’s side, your fingers digging into his underarms, tickling away and making him totally submissive to you.

“Babe…,” It comes out muffled, Emma still planted on Bucky’s face.

“Who is this babe you speak of?” You tease and continue your onslaught, moving your fingers down to his stomach.

“Give up?” Carter asks, his hands drift up to Bucky’s neck, setting off a new set of giggles.

“Yes… yes…please…,” he pants out and you immediately stop your attack.

Carter sees your hands no longer on his father and removes them from Bucky’s neck. He sits back in his knees and places his hands in his lap like a good little boy, his eyes move to you, awaiting instructions.

Bucky grabs Emma from his face and lifts her into the air, just as he had done with Carter not long ago, bringing her face to his and smothering it with kisses.

Sitting back and watching the play time taking place before you, you’re hit with a moment of inner peace. Six months ago, Bucky showed up in your doorstep and said his goodbyes, heading off to rehab with a promise to return and make things right. It’s been three months since his return and so far, he has kept his promises and has been the father he was once before, putting his sobriety and kids before anything else and turning his very negative life into a positive, becoming the man you fell in love with a long time ago.

Bucky has been back and stepping up, not taking anything for granted and making sure you and the kids know just how much he cares. Not everything is wine and roses, but you’ve accepted it, and as long as Bucky is willing to put in the work, you’re happy to open up more and help him embrace this second chance he has been granted.

“Anyone home?”

The sound of Bucky’s voice pulls you from your thoughts and you smile back at him. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Bucky chuckles and sits up, reaching out and placing his calloused hand to your cheek. “I thought I lost you for a second. Everything okay?”

Nodding, you place your hand on his wrist and smile back at him, bringing his hand to your lips and gently kissing his palm. “Never better.”

Emma chooses that time blow a sloppy raspberry on Bucky’s cheek, making the two of you laugh.

“Eww, that’s gross, Em!” Carter frowns and uses his own hand to clean up the slobber on his father's face.

Bucky wipes off the remaining spit and scoops Emma up, stands up in a fluid motion while holding her and props her onto his hip. He holds out his hand in offering, a signal that playtime was now over and with an understanding nod you reach out and take it, Bucky easily pulling you up, and you stand next to your ex like you had so many times before.

Staring into Bucky’s blue eyes, another thought crept its way into your head and you begin to blush like a schoolgirl with a crush. Even after all this time, through his addiction and wrongdoings, you still love your ex-husband with every fiber of your being. His blond hair and blue eyes. The indent of his chin and his bright beautiful smile, and let’s not forget his strong jawline that is undeniably Bucky and the first thing you’d noticed when you met him.

It wasn’t just his features though. These last three months, Bucky had become the man he’d been before addiction took over and destroyed your family. The soft, silly man you fell in love with was back and you found yourself falling once again for him just like you had in college. The wall you’d put up was slowing crumbling brick by brick, and was being replaced by a field of sunflowers, shining bright yellow with the sun.

The sound of Bucky’s phone brings you back to reality and you focus on his movements, watching as he pulls the phone from his pocket and answers the call. You hold out your arms for your daughter and she takes the hint, transferring from her father's hip to yours, laying her head on your shoulders.

“That was Sam,” Bucky end the call and shoves his phone back from where he retrieved it, “he’s out front waiting for me.”

You nod and look down at Carter, his attention on the coloring book he pulled out when his father had stopped all play. “Carter… dad has to go.”

Carter stops what he’s doing and springs up, wrapping his body around Bucky’s leg. “Please don’t go, Daddy!”

A part of you melts at the show of affection but understands just how upset he gets whenever his dad leaves. Carter may be young, but he’s been hurt by his father’s disappearing acts of the past. The memories and feelings won’t go away anytime soon, but Bucky is dead set on history not repeating itself and won’t breaking Carter’s young heart ever again.

“I got a meeting, bud,” Bucky bends down and kisses his head, “but I promise I’ll be back.”

“Pinky promise?” He holds out his tiny finger.

“Pinky promise.” Bucky repeats the motion and curls his much bigger finger around Carter’s, satisfying him enough to make him smile and pry himself off Bucky.

Your ex stands up and kisses a sleepy Emma on the cheek and brushes some of her long brown locks from her face, a soft ‘I love you’ being whispered in her ear. She raises her head and places a sloppy kiss to his lips, laying her head back down and settling in for some much-needed rest.

“So, I was thinking…,” Bucky’s hands are now in his pockets, “maybe after my meeting we could go out?” He awkwardly asks, his nerves showing as he rocks back on the balls of his feet.

“I-“

“Before you say no,” he interrupts, “Steve said he’d watch the kids if you said yes. I was just hoping we could grab dinner and maybe… talk. That’s all.”

You inhale a breath and let it out with a chuckle and nod from his preparation and knowing exactly how you’d turn him down.

“Okay.” You agree with a smile.

“Yeah?” He perks up, no longer fidgeting in place.

“Yeah.”

“Great!” Bucky becomes excited and his phone rings once again. “Shit! Oops!”

You laugh a little and Bucky starts to walk away. “I should…,” he steps back into your space, “I’ll be back around six?”

“I’ll be ready.”

Bucky moves in and gently kisses your cheek. “Thank you.” He murmurs against your soft skin.

“Go. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Dad!” Carter runs to the window and looks out, waving to the car parked in the driveway.

“I haven’t left yet!” Bucky laughs and slowly backs away, watching his family.

“Just waiting until you do.”

Bucky nods and waves. You watch as he turns and rushes out of the house, leaving you standing in the playroom with your children. Bucky would be back, this you were sure of. One day at a time, he had told you the day he returned, making a promise and commitment to change. “I’m asking for a second chance,” Bucky had said, holding out his three-month coin, “and a promise to never take this opportunity for granted.”

Every day is an opportunity for a second chance, it’s there for the taking. It’s what you do with that second chance that counts, so never waste an opportunity to learn from your mistakes.

Forever tags:

@caplanreads @the-real-kellymonster @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @kruscht @v-2bucky @palaiasaurus64 @breezy1415 @amandarosemire @sarahp879 @supernaturaldean67 @averyrogers83 @winters-beauty @scarlettsoldier @lovely-geek @titty-teetee @suz-123 @malfoysqueen14 @callmebucky-doll @ronnie248-blog @alyssaj23 @drakelover78 @thisismysecrethappyplace @geeksareunique @childishhoebinoo @thesassmisstress @bloodiedskirtts @brieannakeogh @peaceinourtime82 @theoneanna @leosandbuckysgirl @coal000 @the-goddess-of-mischief @mychemicalimagines @awkwardfangirl2014 @strangenerdsstuff @sea040561 @marvelobsessedteen @capnbuck-tiltheend-oftheline @thefandomplace @collette04 @nishanki1 @notyourtypicalrose @jamielea81 @onebatch--twobatch @courtmr @emelody @miraclesoflove @kcd15 @clarysthing @crist1216 @yknott81 @babypink224221 @xxloki81xx @death-unbecomes-you @ellaprime68 @littlemarvelfics @thatfanficstuff @hotoffthepressfics @chuuulip @dj-lowkey @shield-agent78 @unlikelygalaxygiver @viarogers @dtftheavengers

#bucky barnes #bucky #james barnes #james bucky barnes #james Buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #james barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #kid fic #mentions of past addictions #omc carter #ofc emma #marvel #marvel au #bucky barnes fic #james barnes fanfiction #james barnes fic

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debunkingtaytaysbeard · 3 years

Note

Been trying to figure out how to express this with out sounding condescending to Kaylors, especially the TTB ones left. And trust me, picture a kind voice because I am honestly not being shitty.

I actually just want to express a Kaylor break is maybe something you need. One time, just one short stint I was caught up in a conspiracy theory of sorts. Doesn't compare to your journey but essentially the winter hiatus of a show killing a character in a ship I loved and I was like what no. Then found message boards dedicated to proving the character could not be dead, dont worry she's gonna be back in January. Every post I read made sense. Every stretch I read while wrapping presents gave me a superior idea that no I was right, she's not dead. Then it came back, nope she was dead. But i ended up holding out for the rest of the season because the theories made sense and I was invested. It became equal parts I was invested and I wanted to be right. I needed to be right, I couldn't have just wasted months believing this to be wrong.

Now long story short (pun intended), this no way is the same thing if you have been invested in Kaylor for years, or are a LBGTQ fan that thought you found representation. I totally understand that. But my main point is maybe a break really is what you need. Stepping away gives you clarity. There is a moment where a hobby turns into a delusion and I promise you after you realize that you feel so much better.

Also, Taylor and Karlies happiness (even if you are right) isnt based on peoples engagement on Tumblr. You arent speading the word because their actions constantly go against your narrative. I can't believe Taylor or Karlie would want someone to be so involved in any of this that it truly causes haertbreak. If your right one day you can come back and say suck it. But till then just try not to get to tied up in what some of these blogs are selling you. Trust me not even they have your beat intentions at heart.

❤️❤️❤️

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sawyersscribbles · 5 years

Text

Sky of Sinners Excerpt - Broken Glass

Hi everyone! I’m really sorry I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus on this blog, and especially on this project, as of late. To make up for it, here’s an excerpt where the Girl Gang(tm) bonds after they find an abandoned house to camp out in overnight and Reagan triggers a... trap. I’m going to be clearing out this tag list soon, so let me know if I can put you on or off!

Almost humorously, Reagan tripped over a thin wire at that second, causing the others to freeze in horror as they watched the chain reaction. The wire was connected to a series of levers that let to a cabinet door closing, which caused a broom to fall forward and hit a vase, which tumbled over and hit a ball on the kitchen counter, which rolled along the table until it fell, pulling down a cup which held a string, which connected to a second string that hoisted up a cardboard box sitting on one of the rafters, which tipped over and poured its contents all over Ingrid, who was still standing warily for the most part in the doorway.

Which would have been funny. If the box didn’t hold about a pound of broken glass.

Ingrid screamed and immediately tried to cover her head and shoulders, but by then it was too late. Pieces as large as knife blades and as small as grains of sand lodged themselves into her hair and skin, burying themselves painfully into her shoulders, where they became tainted red with blood and caused crimson streams of various sizes to leak down Ingrid’s arms like tattoos.

It was clear she was trying to hide her pain as much as she could, but biting one’s lip fiercely and looking up to hide the tears could only do so much. With tears in her eyes, she resisted the impulse to look at the damage. A part of her didn’t want to look towards the ceiling, almost as if she was afraid something bad would happen to her if she made the mistake again.

Reagan leapt forward and took the lead as Finley and Anais stood back, clutching their chests in worry as they watched Ingrid’s whimpering continue as Reagan pulled the pieces from her skin.

“I want to get out of here!” Finley declared. “There are plenty of other safe houses, and we just happened to stumble upon one that’s booby trapped, probably by a crazy person who wanted to defend the house from robbers. I mean, I know a lot of people did that after the Ganymedans came, but this is just a bit much. You know, the statistical odds of us walking into this house…”

Finley had this habit.

When she would nervous, she would walk around, but that wasn’t limited to only pacing in circles. She would make her way around entire floors, walk upstairs, even go outside and return minutes later, rambling on as if nothing was out of the ordinary and she hadn’t even noticed she’d gone outside at all.

“Finley, you gotta shut up for me, buddy, okay? You’re making Ingrid nervous.” Reagan whipped her head around and motioned fiercely at Ingrid with a bloody hand from pulling out pieces of glass, which only seemed to scare both Finley and Ingrid further. Reagan rolled her eyes and made clicking noises with her tongue.

“I’m gonna be fine, Finny.” Ingrid never called Finley, “Finny” unless it was for fun or it was without her thinking about it. The look of desperation in her eyes shifting to various objects around the room only concerned Reagan even more, but she knew what to do.

“Let’s just, let’s talk about something while we wait, okay? Get comfortable, everyone, pull up a chair, watch as Mama Ingrid gets comfortable, have some cream of corn, do your makeup…”

“Oh, may I?” Anais seemed to perk up at the invitation, already rummaging through her bag of what was supposed to be essentials and pulled out a tube of red lipstick and some eyeshadow and laid them on her lap. She shrank at the look Reagan gave her over her shoulder, and Reagan kept the tension alive for a few seconds before saying, “Only if you do my face next.”

Anais, Finley, and, thankfully, Ingrid, all laughed in unison, and Reagan allowed herself to relax a bit.

“Alright, someone do something. Reagan! Tell us a story.” Ingrid said, trying her best to find Reagan’s eyes as she attentively pieced the pieces of glass from Ingrid’s arms. She flicked her eyes up for just a moment before looking back down at Ingrid’s shoulders.

“Who, me?” She looked back up at Ingrid again, who this time had a smile with a twinge of desperation, as if she was saying, “Please. Do this for me.” Reagan sighed and clicked her tongue a few times before nodding her head as she remembered something.

“Alright, I got one. How about the first time I ever saw one of those Ganymedans in real life?” She looked over confidently at Finley, who looked relieved but partially at ease and nodded once at her in acknowledgement. She wasn’t sure what exactly had changed about Finley, but Reagan was sure something was different.

It might have been in the way she nearly slouched in the chair she had dragged from the kitchen, one of her arms draped behind its back haphazardly. Or maybe it was the way Finley’s hair was utterly out of place, but she made no motion to fix it back into the perfect bun it was usually in. She couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that Finley understood something new now. Perhaps not fully, and maybe she never would, but somehow Reagan could feel that Finley was going to be alright.

“Then I’ll tell it,” Reagan said with light in her tone, which made Finley smile. “As some of you know, and by some of you I mean Iggy,” Reagan nodded in Ingrid’s direction who flourished with her arm and said, “‘Tis me!” as if Finley and Anais had never met her before.

“Yes, ‘tis you,” Reagan continued, a small smile playing at her own lips, “...I actually grew up in Colorado, and when everything hit all at once… that’s where I was. In my mom’s car, which I stole from the garage, smoking weed and listening to the soundtrack from Ocarina of Time.” Out of seemingly nowhere, Finley pulled out a canteen and wordlessly took a sip without taking her eyes off of Reagan. She had inched forward in her seats, chins tucked in her hands and eyes wide. Anais, meanwhile, sat back in her seat with her arms folded over her chest, her face a mixture between angry and upset as her eyes trailed over the pictures of the happy family whose home she had helped break into.

“You really want to hear this, huh?” Reagan chuckled nervously at Finley, who spun the chair around like one of those “cool” substitute teachers and laid her arms across the back.

“Yes,” was Finley’s simple response before she took another sip of what smelled like herbal tea.

“Alright… anyway, Colorado, Legend of Zelda, weed, we established that. I was on the road to see my brother, Drew. He went to college at University of Denver, so it was a hell of a drive...” Reagan allowed her voice to trail off slightly at the sight of Anais’s back pressed firmly against the back of the seat, her eyes everywhere other than Reagan. From where she was sitting, Reagan could hear her heavy breathing, like she was resisting something.

“He went to study film, Anais. He would love you.” Anais’s eyes flickered away from the pictures of the family on the tables to Reagan and back again a few times before she sighed and moved herself to face Reagan.

“Did you love him?” She asked softly, almost as if she couldn’t believe she was asking. Reagan slipped off her flannel and began to gently dab Ingrid’s wounds, who flinched but said nothing.

“Yeah. Still do.”

Anais bit her lip and played with the hem of your skirt.

“Were you angry at him when he left? Knowing now that you never got to see him again?” Finley froze for a second before placing her head in her hands and groaning as if from intense secondhand embarrassment.

“Anais, that’s not…” Ingrid started, but Reagan shook her head.

“No, no, it’s a question, and I’ll answer it. You’re right, I never saw him again. But he left to live his dream. He left to move on. And that’s the one thing I’ll always be able to understand.”

In that moment, with Reagan looking so deeply into Anais’s eyes that she felt she could never break the gaze, Anais saw something she didn’t see before. Reagan’s hard brown eyes were soft now, and her mouth was in its same cocky smirk, but there was a twinge of sadness behind it that Anais never thought Reagan would let her see. In that moment, Anais felt like she could see some part of Drew that lived inside Reagan, that would always live inside Reagan, and she thought of what her mother told her before they left for America all those years ago.

Every human being is like a sky of stars. We will never truly see the whole picture, but we can map more and more of the stars every day we make the effort to go outside at night and look up.

In the next, chaos.

Tag list: @23cws @smolgayteen @theforgottencoolkid @leicawri @omgbrekkerkaz @emweaver @bowtomypointlesswords @idreamonpaper @diwrites @maskedlady @a-deanskidgellwrites @thewritertiffany @starlitesymphony @erisunderthemoon @cynically-optomistic @allthepettyart @ill-write-when-im-dead @griffinoliverwrites @random-writings-fandom-writings @therandomwritings @ashes-to-sen @noloumna @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword @ofthevisitorsthefairest @codewritelove @mvcreates @merrow-writes @ofvisitorsthefairest

#sky of sinners #sos #my wip #sky of sinners excerpt

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peachyjie · 5 years

Text

Hi, it’s me Nari.

Yes I am finally back from university and is now settling down back home after all the exams PTSD that shook my mental away from my body. But that isn't the point, I came back once again to sincerely put a long message once again to explain everything that had happened from the time I am not active and my future plans of this blog.

First and foremost, my sincerest apology for not being active or even alive once I started university. I did try writing, but my time was always taken away by either me running around campus for projects and studies, to me cramming myself in my dorm to study my ass off for exams.

I know, I did promise you all that I will try to update even when university is on the line. And I did realized I didn't met the promise I made myself. Hence, I am so sorry for those who had supported me for so long, you’ve waited for me. To my mutuals also, I am sorry for being missing tumblr like a dead man.

Okay now to the questions I’ve been getting since my unwanted hiatus from the fandom itself. I hope you all will understand and support me even after? I am so sorry for the inconvenience I had caused to all of you. I hope you will come and sit through this long explanation because I suck at keeping things short, and well...

here we go-

Hi Nari, how was life?

I would be bloody lying if I said it was dandy. It was hectic. University was tough and I moved to a country that I never even been into, so you could say it murdered my mental slowly, but wow oh wow your girl made it.

I recently took my finals exams for the year in May and recently just went on holiday to travel to China. It was fun, a great way for me to relax and really freshen up. Not to mention the amount of Yixing and WayV ads I seen flying around here and there, your girl was shook!

I am settling down now at home, writing again thankfully and will be updating soon as I am trying to finish up my series that I started and I would want to end without any cliffhanger.

So, did you come here just to apologise or...?

Yes and no, and I hope you all don't kill me for this.

My other reason to have this long post is to say that I am moving to another blog. I’ve been up to revamping and furnishing my new writing blog for some time now and it’s nothing too big or majestic as I want to keep things simple this time. I would be lying if I said it didn't take any of my time, in fact I had spent more than enough hours to fully furnished it into a decent blog.

What happen? Why are you moving?

There is nothing personal that happened in this blog, you all supported me amazingly and my mutuals are all beautiful people with wonderful hearts. It is my own decision to do so

The cliché reasoning behind it, I wanted to start fresh. I wanted a new start on having a blog that is actually mine. I came to tumblr to showcase my interest on writings, writings regarding plots and stories I thought others might enjoy.

And I did. But I never knew that I would be so caught up with it so quickly and slowly lose interest on it as quickly also. It wasn't anything bad, but I did notice on how I never felt like the need to write anymore because it was pressuring me to do so, and producing a good stories did take me a lot of time and I wasn't happy enough with what I am doing.

So, what’s your plan now?

I am not going to move anything much from this blog to my new blog. I wanted to keep things as it is in this blog, as this main blog of mine is the beginning where everything started. The only thing I am moving from this blog is only the Royals and Diamonds series, yes that’s all.

It would be weird if I just deleted and abandoned this blog completely. I mean, without this blog I wouldn’t be able to come about to meet new people, my mutuals or even gain the supports I had received nowadays. Yes, I hold a lot of nostalgia dearly to me and I am a very much sappy person, sue me.

Mostly, I am just going to use this blog for a lot of reblogs, random rants or shizposting stuff when my heart desires to do so. Then on the new blog are my writings (you can check out the faq once I am done furnishing it) and get a general idea on what I am aiming for.

Then how about your stories? your requests?

Okay this is probably where you are going to either judge me, kill me, or idk just bear with me please.

The good news is, I am still going to continue Royals and Diamonds because that is my first ever series in this blog and I hold that nostalgia dearly to my heart, but also I had found the inspiration back on the plots. I am going to move the series and remaining new parts on the new blog soon, so I hope you all will stay tune and still support the series.

The bad news is, I am no longer going to take any request in this blog nor my new blog. It took me my whole will to fully reset my inbox and wip, and I am truly sorry for you who had came and dropped the requests yet I am not able to fulfill it. I loved writing your requests, they were all truly amazing and wonderful. I love seeing you all being creative giving me plots and even sometimes striking me with ideas for a potential series. It was great, knowing you all can contribute so much to a story.

But without knowing, sooner or later I felt the pressure on receiving requests. I felt intimidated, never felt the story I am giving are good enough, and I felt pressured on having to finish the whole requests in fear of upsetting others who requested them. This caused me to fully be engrossed on finishing the requests, and slowly I lost interest on writing my own ideas when this blog was born because I wanted to showcase my own plot.

I know I shouldn't blame it on anyone, because the problem was coming in from myself but I was more scared to talk it all out. I didn't have fun and didn't like anything I was doing. I wanted to go on writing other groups yet I never got into it, and even until now I still want to write despite I didn't have any will nor enjoyment left.

That is why I decided to make a new blog, now solely dedicated to my stories and my own works. I wanted to now showcase something that is really from me, and might entertain you all in the end also.

Hence, that’s why I came here and fully explain on everything that I am going to do once my blog is done and I hope you all can understand the decisions I made. I am sorry for being gone for so long, but this time I am back for good.

Have a nice day, and thank you for coming to my ted talk :)

#Nari Speaks #that was longer than expected tbh #but I hope you guys read along until the end #so okay have a nice day #much love

6 notes · View notes

raywritesthings · 6 years

Text

Baby Won’t You Please Come Home 9/11

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, Quentin Lance, John Diggle, Felicity Smoak, Thea Queen, Roy Harper, Moira Queen, Joanna de la Vega, Dinah Lance Pairings: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen, Thea Queen/Roy Harper Summary: Oliver returns to Starling City after the Undertaking only to discover that he’s not the only one who has absented it; Laurel Lance has seemingly vanished with barely a trace for the last four months. As he struggles to piece together the mystery of what caused her to flee the city they both call home, Oliver must also ask himself if he can make things right after leaving the woman he loves a second time. If he can find her at all. AO3 link

So...yes. I realize this fic has been in over a year-long hiatus, but as you might have been able to tell from my blog, I’ve worked up the spoons to care enough about these characters (okay mostly just Laurel) again. Very, very sorry for the unforgivably long wait, but if you’ve been hoping for a continuation then I am hoping you enjoy!

Six months ago

Laurel eased herself onto the barstool, tempted to kick her shoes off in order to rub at her aching feet. Eight to ten hours a day standing inside a cramped tent was killer for the arches.

As usual, it was Joanna who didn’t have any reservations voicing what was on her mind. “Please God, tell me this is almost over.”

“If I have to tell one more family we lost their papers in the quake…” Laurel couldn’t even muster the energy to finish that sentence, but it didn’t need to be. The other woman shook her head in commiseration anyway.

“Hey, come on, we didn’t come out to talk about all that,” Luis interrupted from her left. He passed them each a glass. “We came to forget it.”

Joanna raised hers with a “Here, here.”

Laurel gave their coworker a nod of thanks before taking a long pull of her drink and grimacing as it went down. “You know, I had to tell the Kims that I couldn’t find their deposition in our files—”

“So much for not talking about it,” Joanna teased.

“But,” she carried on, “it turns out the whole block of buildings their landlord owned went down in the quake. You couldn’t sue him for anything now.”

“And that’s why they say karma’s a bitch.”

She considered this, staring into her glass as she revealed, “Now twelve more families have lost their homes and two are dead.”

“Laurel.” Joanna laid a hand over hers resting on the bar top. “I know this is hard. Most days I can barely drag myself to work in the morning. But there’s nothing more we can do.”

“I know.”

“Have you been looking for a new position? We’ve all got to start thinking about the future, you know.”

“The future,” she echoed hollowly. What was the point? After five years of pushing herself forward case by case, client by client, she’d finally felt herself starting to come alive again. Now it was all gone—and Oliver vanished with it—leaving her worse off than she’d been before. Sara, Tommy, how much more was she just going to end up losing in the future?

“I’ve applied at Wethersby & Stone,” her friend blurted. She looked up in surprise at the sudden announcement. “Corporate, I know.”

“No, no, that’s good,” Laurel hastened to reassure. Joanna was being practical; she had herself and her mother to think about, especially after losing her brother. “I hope you get it. I know you’ll get it.” She lifted her glass decidedly, and with a grateful smile Joanna mirrored her.

But she couldn’t hide the disgusted face she pulled after her second taste of her beverage. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Laurel looked at it more closely. Maybe she just was feeling something stronger, but that didn’t explain why this drink should put her off so badly. “You know what? It must not be my night.”

“Oh, come on, Laurel.”

Luis and Anastasia both looked over with vague curiosity and disappointment as she slipped off her stool and stepped away from the bar. “You’re not leaving already, are you?”

“I’m just not feeling up to it.” She shrugged. “And I promised my mom I’d call her later.” It was a lie, but the two of them had been talking more as of late. It wasn’t perfect, but after five years of nothing Laurel was willing to take what she could get.

Maybe that was her problem.

Joanna didn’t exactly look thrilled, but she nodded her understanding. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t stay out too late,” she instructed them all, getting various reactions from too-innocent grins to rolled eyes.

Despite what she considered responsible actions, the next morning Laurel woke feeling about as worse off as if she really had stayed at the bar and long past closing time. How could she possibly be hungover?

Sitting up proved disastrous as her stomach roiled unexpectedly. She tried waiting the nausea out but was soon staggering to her feet and into her bathroom. Kneeling in front of the toilet was not the first thing she’d wanted to do this morning, yet even worse was that nothing seemed to be happening. Her stomach was still protesting, it just didn’t seem to be enough to provoke a reaction. Laurel didn’t relish the idea of throwing up, but it would at least allow her to feel better afterward. She’d prefer to just get it over with already.

Instead, Laurel was forced to sit with her knees tucked underneath her and her forehead pressed against the cool tile as her stomach gradually calmed itself. By the time she felt settled enough to risk getting back up, she’d lost half an hour and felt nowhere near ready to start the day. Slowly she shuffled back into the bedroom and took her phone off the nightstand.

“You didn’t need to check on me, you know,” was Joanna’s amused greeting after the second ring. “I’m leaving in fifteen.”

“Actually, I think I might not be able to make it in,” Laurel said with reluctance. “I’ve got some kind of stomach thing. Really queasy.”

“Oh no! Think it was something you ate?”

“I…don’t know.” She tried to think back to the last full meal she’d had. What was in her fridge?

“Well you better be getting back in bed,” Joanna advised. “I could stop by, maybe bring you some soup.”

“No, you guys are going to be swamped without me,” she dismissed. “It’ll probably just go away on its own.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. I’ll come in—”

“No, you’ll stay in all day, Laurel,” her friend countered, leaving no room for argument. “There is no point dragging yourself to work and making yourself sicker. Just take the day off and hopefully you’ll be feeling better tomorrow, okay?”

“Alright, alright,” she grinned in spite of herself. “But call me—”

“I won’t. Get well soon!” With that, the other woman hung up. Laurel rolled her eyes.

Well, if she couldn’t go into work today, she could still be productive. Laurel wrapped herself up in her bathrobe and relocated to the front room, powering up her laptop. She’d been falling behind in organizing her notes due to the bare-bones operation they were currently winding down, but a day off was just what she needed to get back on track. She flipped one of her legal pads to where she’d last been working off of and started transcribing her notes from page to screen. Client’s name, records they had or hadn’t been able to recover, and status of their case. It took her well into the morning, which just went to show how much she’d been putting it off.

A couple hours after that she decided her stomach had remained settled enough to try for some water and crackers. That was if she could locate any of the latter in her depressingly bare cupboard. Near the back she finally found a box—Tommy’s favorite brand. He must have picked them up the last time he’d made a trip to the store before he’d moved out...

Laurel took one out of the packaging and nibbled on the corner. The cracker was stale. With a shaky breath she dropped first it and then the box in the trash, the thump of it hitting the bottom loud and somehow final in the otherwise quiet of her apartment.

Laurel returned to her desk and grabbed a post-it note. A grocery list was definitely in order. New crackers, canned soup, maybe some ginger ale. Did she want to pick up anything for after this bug passed? She had no idea if she’d have the time or inclination to try making anything complicated. Still, Laurel jotted down a couple types of vegetables and pasta. She could definitely handle pasta.

That was her kitchen’s future planned. What about her future? She considered Joanna’s advice. CNRI was closing permanently, all too soon, and she needed to make a decision. She knew that.

Laurel eyed the email from Adam Donner sitting in her inbox. Truthfully she’d been surprised when the ADA had reached out to her. But that offer wasn’t going to last forever. It was time to stop sitting on it. She took out her phone.

“Assistant District Attorney Adam Donner speaking,” the man answered after a couple rings.

“Mr. Donner, this is Laurel Lance. I received your email earlier this week.”

“Oh! Yes, I’ve been hoping to hear from you. It’s my understanding that with CNRI’s future uncertain at the moment you might be looking for a new position. The DA’s office is looking for someone right now, and your qualifications make you an ideal candidate if you’re at all interested.”

“CNRI’s future is not uncertain. If we had any doors left to close, we’d be closing them soon. So I would be very happy to sit down for an interview with you.” She hoped the lack of a smile on her face wasn’t bleeding into her tone.

“Excellent. Let me just pull up my schedule so we can find somewhere to fit you in.”

They agreed on a time later next week, which Laurel wrote down before quickly making her excuses to get off the phone. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Donner, or even the prospect of working at the DA’s office. But moving on from CNRI just felt very...final. Like closing the door on a part of her life. It wasn’t a practice she was unfamiliar with, but it was just getting harder and harder to keep doing it. What was the point of moving forward if she had to leave everything and everyone she cared about behind?

If Joanna found out she spent the day being maudlin she’d be upset, so Laurel resolved that was enough work and self-reflection for one day. She closed her laptop and curled up on her couch, flipping through the channels on the television until she found a movie she could watch somewhat mindlessly. The only thing she could want for now was some ice cream—but that was a thought best not to dwell on either, so she dismissed it.

By the time she was yawning and heading to an early bed, Laurel felt she would certainly be rested and well enough to return to work tomorrow.

Which of course was why the next morning found her in the same exact position she’d been in twenty-four hours before, crouching over the toilet and willing herself to just get it over with already. This just didn’t make any sense. She barely had anything in her stomach at this point, so what could be making her sick?

Another call to Joanna meant another day off work. Laurel staggered back into the bathroom after she’d gotten off the phone and opened her medicine cabinet. There had to be something in here that would help her get over this bug. But she didn’t have much aside from aspirin.

She was running low on tampons, too. She’d meant to grab some last month, but what with hosting Taylor and then everything surrounding the earthquake—Laurel stilled.

Her cycle...she’d missed her period. Somehow in all the chaos it had slipped her mind, but she’d missed it. How had she missed that she’d missed it?

Her gaze landed on the tile in front of the toilet where she’d been crouched only this morning, feeling sick...Laurel gripped the edge of the sink and met her own panicked gaze in the mirror.

“No,” she murmured. “No, no, that’s not possible.” She’d been careful with Tommy, knowing how many other partners he must’ve had. She’d always made sure—

Except the one time she hadn’t. Except the one time Oliver had shown up at her door and there had barely been time to breathe let alone think, when the sense of right had outweighed everything that had gone wrong in their lives up to that moment.

Didn’t they always say that just once was enough? But she couldn’t know for sure, Laurel reminded herself as she passed a shaky hand through her hair. Not yet.

On trembling legs she stumbled back into her room, pulling on the first clothes she grabbed from the closet and nearly stepping into two different shoes on her way out the door. She spared a harried wave for the doorman before slipping into the flow of foot traffic outside the building.

Laurel kept her head down as she entered a convenience store several blocks away that she’d never been to in her life. It was quiet and seemingly empty of other patrons, yet her heart was pounding loudly enough to her that she wondered if it could be heard. She felt both hyper aware and yet removed from the situation, like she was watching a film from the uncomfortably close point of view of some other woman. Her whole body was tensed in anticipation of rounding a corner and bumping into a familiar face. How would she explain herself? It was for a friend? Just a precaution? None of their business?

She finally found the right aisle, looking to either side—coast clear—before stepping up to the section displaying various kinds of tests. Laurel worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she scanned the labels and instructions. Her attention was split, ears straining for the chime of the door signifying another customer. Finally she grabbed a test that seemed cheap enough and easy to use off one of the shelves and walked with it tucked under her arm to hide the label on her way to the register.

“Good morning,” the cashier greeted.

“Morning,” Laurel echoed, forcing what she hoped was a regular smile on her face as she placed the test on the counter. Of course, the other woman’s eyes immediately dropped to it, then darted first up to her face and strangely back down again...to where her left hand hung at her side.

Laurel felt her cheeks begin to heat up slightly as her bare fingers curled up into her palm before hastily stuffing her whole fist in her pocket. Not that it served much good now.

The cashier made no comment, simply scanning the box—which of course was when it occurred to Laurel she didn’t remember how much money was in her wallet. Using her credit card would be as good as handing over her name. A brief but frantic search managed to produce a twenty and a few smaller bills, and she barely suppressed the sigh of relief.

The door chiming shot her nerves to hell all over again, however, and Laurel resisted the urge to turn and look like some kind of idiot. By the sounds of it, at least two people had entered. Young, possibly teenagers, maybe even Thea’s age—God, Thea.

“Would you like a double bag?” The cashier asked with what felt to her like a knowing look, and Laurel didn’t manage to keep from starting guiltily.

“Yes, please,” she responded in an undertone. The teens were already making their way up to the register.

“Receipt?”

“No thank you.” They could be right behind her now. Had they seen? Did they know?

But when she turned around with the bag clutched tightly in her right hand, the pair were busy browsing magazines. There wasn’t anything for her to be fearful or ashamed of. She made her way calmly towards the door.

“Well, hope you get the result you want,” the cashier called to her. The teenagers paused in their conversation. She could imagine them looking up, curious and confused. Mortified, Laurel ducked her head back down and left without a backwards glance.

She had to fight herself not to simply run the entire way back or to constantly check that the double bags were not still somehow see-through. Nobody out here on the streets could possibly know what she currently held. They had no idea, and they never would. Nobody needed to know except her, and only just to check. Then she could throw it away, bury it deep in the trash—assuming the result was negative, that was.

And if it wasn’t?

Laurel was breathing heavily by the time she shut first the apartment and then her bedroom door behind herself. The door to the bathroom still stood open, the light on. She’d forgotten to switch it off on her way out. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to re-enter it, not yet. A part of her couldn’t believe what she planned to do, that it could even be necessary. A scare like this, it wasn’t supposed to be her.

She took the box out again, turning it over in her fingers. There was no use continuing to stare at it, she knew. Maybe this wasn’t the answer, maybe she really was sick and needed to see a doctor and was just wasting time. Whatever the result was, opening this box and taking the test would make it real. Was she ready for it?

It wasn’t as if she’d ever been ready for any other development in her life. Laurel pushed off the door she’d been leaning against and took the test with her into the bathroom.

It was the longest several minutes of her life, pacing across the small, cramped space, her heart continuing to hammer away. What was it going to say? What was she hoping for, what result did she want? Her mind chased itself around in circles until she couldn’t stand it and finally snatched the test up from where she’d laid it on the sink to wait.

Two lines.

The test slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor. Positive. It was positive. She was positive. She was pregnant.

Laurel sat hard on the lip of the bathtub. There seemed to be no other prevailing emotion than shock. She was pregnant. One of her hands came up to rest on the smooth expanse of her stomach. It didn’t feel as though anything was there, and yet the proof rested not two feet away from her that there was something in there. The beginning of a someone.

“Oh God.” Her mind, normally racing trying to keep track of her work, her family and friends, was drawing a distressing blank. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this, and wasn’t that so typical? For all she tried to be careful, to plan ahead, she could never resist the temptation to just throw all caution to the wind. Now it had landed her in bigger trouble than ever.

Though not just her. It took two, after all.

Oliver. Her head dropped into her hands. As if the mess of their relationship could get any worse. How could she possibly come to him with this? Going by his current behavior they’d be lucky to get him back in ten years if he heard this kind of news.

He’d left her. That should probably tell her what his possible desire to be involved in something like this should be, but...a part of her, that part that could never quite give up on Oliver Jonas Queen no matter how many people told her she was crazy for it, reminded her he didn’t have the full story. He couldn’t know that right now she was pregnant. That right now they were pregnant. If she was going to tell anyone right away, she wanted it to be him.

She needed to see him, speak to him at least. This changed everything. His leaving, her guilt for Tommy’s sacrifice. Things that had seemed insurmountable only a day ago felt like excuses rather than reasons to remain apart.

The only person she knew who might possibly be able to reach him was Thea. Laurel rose to her feet and found herself retracing her steps out of the apartment moments later. There really wasn’t any time to lose with this hanging over her.

She sent a text ahead and by the time she reached the lobby had gotten a reply back asking her to meet at the Verdant. She’d had no idea the place was staying open without Oliver to run it. In fact she hadn’t been back there since before the earthquake.

Laurel took a route that wouldn’t lead her past where Joanna and the others would be set up for the day, and by the time she arrived at the club the sun was nearly right overhead. Her stomach was grumbling, too, and she touched it again before moving her hand quickly away. How obvious could she be? Shaking her head, Laurel took a moment to compose herself before entering the building.

“Hey.”

Thea looked up from the stack of papers she was studying, her face breaking into a smile. “Hey!”

“Looks like you’re just about ready to reopen for business,” Laurel remarked with a glance around the place. A few employees were scattered about seemingly rearranging seating and the like, Roy Harper among them she noticed.

“Yeah, well, I figured it beat sitting around at home,” the younger girl told her, and Laurel nodded. She could relate to that need to keep moving, to throw herself into something and ignore her own problems. “Not to mention there’s no telling if my trust fund let alone my parents’ company will still be standing in a year.”

“Very smart.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, Thea preened slightly at the compliment. For how quickly she was being forced to grow up by her family’s actions, she was still so young. “Thanks. So, what brings you around?”

“I needed to ask you something,” she hedged. “It’s about Ollie, actually.” That was all she could trust herself to say. A part of her marvelled that Thea could have no idea what was happening right now, the same as her only hours ago. “I was wondering when he was planning to come home.”

“How should I know?”

Laurel’s hopeful smile faded. “You mean he hasn’t been in touch?”

Thea snorted. “He left me a note saying he went on a ski trip in Europe. Didn’t even ask if I wanted to get the hell out of here, too.”

Laurel hesitated a moment before asking, “Would you have wanted to?”

Thea shrugged. “It’s not like I’m exactly popular right now. But I got the club.”

“Just the club?”

Laurel bit back a smile as she turned to see Roy look up from polishing one of the tables.

Thea made a face at him. “You’re an employee of the club. And my boyfriend.”

“Thanks, boss,” Roy remarked dryly.

Thea was rolling her eyes as she shooed him further out of earshot before returning her attention to Laurel. “You want a drink? It’s on the house,” she offered, already reaching for a glass.

“No!” Laurel winced at the sharpness in her tone. “No I—I can’t.” She was pregnant, had been for at least a month...and she’d been drinking up to now, hadn’t she?

The younger woman didn’t seem too fazed. “Okay. Listen, I have no idea if he’s reading them, but I’ve been sending anything I want to say to his email. That’s your best bet. I’ll let you know if I hear from him, but right now I’m as in the dark about what Ollie’s up to as you are. Figures I just got used to him being back right before he disappears again,” she muttered to the bartop.

“I’m sure he’ll be home soon, Thea,” she attempted to assure her, though as distracted with worry as she was she didn’t know how sincere it came across. How much had she had to drink since she could have gotten pregnant? More than usual, if she was being honest with herself. What if it had affected the baby? What if there was something wrong? “I have to go. Good luck with the opening.”

“Thanks.”

The doorman seemed bemused as she passed him for the fourth time that day, and Laurel wasn’t sure if her attempt at a smile held up at all. She was too busy considering what she wanted to say. How did she break this kind of news over an email?

Or should she? Laurel wasn’t sure if it was fear or selfishness that had her wanting to make sure she could tell Oliver in person. She wanted to be able to see his reaction, know what he thought, talk to him about this like they should.

It took a few attempts, deletions, and rewordings, but she ended up with:

Ollie,

Thea told me you’re taking some time to yourself after everything that’s happened. I guess you needed the space. Maybe we all do.

But things have changed. I found something out and I have to talk to you about it. I know you feel like you can’t be in Starling right now, but this is important. I can’t do this without you.

Please write back when you can.

Love always,

Laurel

She held her breath as she hit send and stared at the little box that popped up saying her message had been delivered. Laurel wondered what time it was over in whatever ski lodge Oliver was staying in, when she might hear back. She didn’t know how long she could wait on this before needing to speak with someone.

She took her phone and dialled the number that would always come first in her mind, her thumb hovering over the call button.

But...could she tell her dad? He’d always dreaded something like this happening. Why would he be happy? He’d more likely be the opposite. He’d be furious at Oliver, there was no question of that. And her? She was an unmarried woman who’d been dating another man until shortly before getting pregnant by her ex.

Shame. Fear. Humiliation. Those were the reactions he would have. She could picture the ‘I told you so’ falling from his lips as clear as if he was standing in front of her, could see his hunched form at the bar grumbling into his drink epithets about Queen and his own gold-digger daughter. Laurel squeezed her eyes shut, willing the images away, and the phone slipped from her fingers.

She shouldn’t bother him anyway, she tried to tell herself. Her father was already dealing with so much, what with his demotion. God, this kind of blow to his reputation, it’d probably shatter what little respect he had left at the precinct.

What about her reputation?

She wasn’t exactly an unknown in the media thanks to the high-profile businessmen she’d gone after for her clients. Her various tangles with both the Queen family and the Hood didn’t help either. Was she the kind of person who would end up in a tabloid over a scandal like this? She didn’t want that for herself or a baby.

As selfish as it was, getting the hell out of here sounded like a great plan at the moment. At least until she’d figured out what she was doing. If Oliver replied by the end of the day, she’d need money to go and meet him wherever he’d holed up halfway around the world. If he didn’t...well, then she’d definitely need money.

The bank was about to close, so she’d have to go tomorrow or the next day. How much was she safe in taking out? She’d need money for plane tickets, food, shelter, possibly a visit to a doctor or some kind of women’s clinic. Bitterly, she recalled that with Rebecca Merlyn’s clinic closed, there wasn’t any such place she could go in Starling anyway. The nearest Planned Parenthood was at least a city over, so she’d need to be going out of town for a few days at least regardless.

Laurel found herself refreshing her inbox constantly over the rest of the day and the next, though it brought her nothing but the odd bit of junk mail. Oliver either hadn’t read her email or didn’t want to respond. She didn’t know which was worse.

But there was a way she could make sure which it was. She opened up a new message and typed the equivalent of an SOS:

Please Ollie, I’m running out of time.

If he could read that and not answer, he wasn’t the man she’d thought he was at all.

Say Oliver didn’t respond. Say he never responded. How long was she willing to wait? How long could she wait to make a decision?

The reasons against keeping it were distressingly numerous. She was on her own. She didn’t have any prospects for future employment as a pregnant woman. She couldn’t know when or what kind of support Oliver would be willing to give—not that her pride would ever let her accept his money. She wasn’t even sure if she could be a good mother, with or without the means.

But after everything in her life that she’d had taken away from her...would she be able to survive losing something like this?

Laurel rolled onto her side, wrapping her arms around herself.

Thea had said she wasn’t popular in Starling these days. Laurel doubted anyone related to the Queens would be. People were angry, and whether or not it was justified didn’t seem to matter. They’d hate her baby.

Was it even safe to keep it, if that’s the sort of life it would have? The life it would have in Starling, anyway. Laurel had never thought of leaving the city permanently. It had been her home, her one constant when everything and everyone else in her life left her. How could she even think of going?

But this couldn’t just be about her and her wants or needs anymore. Maybe she couldn’t save a city. Maybe she wasn’t strong enough to fight an army like Joanna had tried to warn her. But there was one person now whose life rested literally in her hands and her hands alone. She had to protect it.

Laurel pushed herself up to sitting, looking around the darkened room. “I can’t stay here.”

She was at the bank first thing the next morning, having barely slept the night before. Laurel scanned the available tellers, hoping she’d come on the right day...there!

She approached one teller in particular. “Mr. Ricci!”

“Ah, Miss Lance! Good morning!”

She had gotten to know the balding man quite well during the proceedings she’d guided his son through to prove him innocent of an armed robbery. If anyone at Starling National would be willing to do her a favor, it was him, and that was precisely what Laurel had been counting on.

“So good to see you!” The man was saying. “Now, what can I do for you today?”

“I wanted to make a withdrawal.”

“Of course. For how much?”

“Five thousand dollars?” She couldn’t help the slight uptick in her voice at the end.

The man’s eyes went wide. “That is quite a sum. I’m not sure…”

Laurel knew she had to think fast. “I’m treating myself to a bit of a vacation, and I want to take out the money so I budget myself. That’s all I’m letting myself spend.”

He nodded, clearly mulling it over. “Lots of people are trying to get away these days. But if anyone deserves a vacation, it is you. Alright, come with me, and we will get it all taken care of.”

Laurel did not have to fake her gratitude at all. “Thank you so much, Mr. Ricci.”

She stayed long enough chatting at the bank so as not to seem suspicious. It wouldn’t be good if it looked like she was about to make a run for it.

Once finally home, Laurel checked her email again. Nothing. Oliver wasn’t there.

If she stayed any longer, sooner or later she would have to face either Joanna or her father. Whether she went into work or took another sick day, they’d know something was wrong. If she didn’t want to involve anyone else, she had to be on a train out of the city by tonight.

A bizarre sort of calm seemed to settle over her — or perhaps she was just teetering on the edge of a complete breakdown — but Laurel took out her scarcely-used suitcase and began pulling things out of her closet. Comfortable, baggier clothes were prioritized; she’d have no need for dresses or pantsuits while hiding out to have a baby, and eventually she wouldn’t be able to fit them anyway. Toiletries were placed in a smaller case before being tucked away as well, and looking around the bathroom reminded her to get rid of her trash and the pregnancy test. She was sure her father would case her apartment all on his own if he had to, once he realized she was gone.

Laurel paused at her desk, pulling a notepad towards her. Should she leave him a message not to worry? Explain that she had to go away for a while? It’d probably only make him worry more and be that much more determined to find her. And it wasn’t as though she could give him a proper explanation or one that would make him happy with her. Better to leave him with what little good opinion he might have left of her.

She checked the time and knew she needed to get moving. With her phone wedged between her ear and shoulder, she placed a call down to the lobby.

“Hi, Mr. Powell, it’s Laurel. Would you mind calling a cab for me? I’m a little behind on packing.”

“Of course. When should it arrive?”

“Twenty minutes would be perfect. Thank you so much.”

She forced her suitcase closed and leaned heavily on it as she zipped it back up. Laurel left her phone on her bedside table and went to her front door. She turned back for one last look at the home she’d made for herself over many long, trying years. It seemed hard to believe she was about to leave it behind. But it was the only way.

Down in the lobby, Mr. Powell was waiting. “I can help you with that,” the doorman offered, taking a hold of her suitcase to stow in the trunk of the cab pulled up to the curb.

“Thank you.” She just barely bit back a goodbye. Instead, Laurel slid into the passenger seat.

“Where to?”

“The train station, please.”

Moments later, they were driving off and she watched as her apartment disappeared in the side view mirror.

“Going on vacation?” Her driver asked.

Laurel felt a wan smile lift the corners of her mouth. “Something like that.”

Four months ago

Laurel paced the scant floor space between the bed and the wall, her mind chasing itself around in similar circles.

She was running low on cash. Not enough for it to be an emergency yet, but even cheap motels like this one she was staying in started to add up night after night.

The minute she went to withdraw more funds she was sure her father would be on her trail. If he still had his detective’s badge she doubted she’d have made it this long without him finding her. And if he found her like this...it just wasn’t thinkable.

Laurel placed a hand over her stomach, which was decidedly firmer than it had been months ago before all this. Before she’d hatched a crazy plan to run away with a baby she didn’t even have enough money to get another checkup for let alone take care of once it was born.

She couldn’t do this on her own, but she had no one. By keeping an eye on any Starling news she could tell Oliver was still God knew where. Her father had enough of his own troubles, if he’d even want to help her after all the worry she must have caused him. Thea was much too young for her to depend on for this. She had nothing else that resembled family.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Her mother was just a short train ride away in Central, after all.

Of all people, was she really considering going to her mother? Maybe things were better between them than they had been, but nearly five years of no contact was a lot to forget.

But what other options did she have?

Laurel checked out of the motel that morning and headed for the nearest train station. She purchased another ticket in cash, this time to Central, and waited to board.

The entire journey she was a nervous wreck, thinking up all the many ways this could and would go wrong. It took everything in her to actually leave the Central City train station and not simply hop a second train out of there. From there she splurged a little on a taxi cab as she only had an address and no way of knowing how to get to her mother’s house just on the edge of the suburbs. Laurel paid the driver and got out, pulling her suitcase along behind her as she came up the walk for the very first time.

It was a one-level building, small without seeming too cramped. There was a tree in the yard and a couple different kinds of flowers that had mostly wilted, though they couldn’t hold her interest for long.

She drew in a deep breath, her hand resting just inches from the door. Could she really do this? She didn’t have many options, true, but what would her mother say? What if she refused to help her?

There was no way of knowing until it happened. She rapped on the door and then planted her feet firmly on the doorstep. The wait wasn’t very long, and soon enough she was once again face to face with her mother.

The older woman’s eyes went wide at the sight of her. “Laurel!”

She tried not to cringe as she offered a, “Hi, Mom.”

The next thing she knew, Laurel was being pulled over the threshold and into the older woman’s arms. It was so unfamiliar a sensation to her that she couldn’t help standing there stiffly for a moment before remembering to move her arms to reciprocate.

“Oh, thank goodness!” She felt lips against her cheek and then her mom was taking great gasps of air as she held her tightly. “Oh, Laurel!”

She found herself being pulled even further inside and led into a living room. Her mother’s home for the last six years, and she was just seeing it for the first time. There was a picture of both her and Sara on one of the end tables next to the couch her mom guided her to sit on. Laurel wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Does Quentin know you’re safe?”

Her gaze dropped to the rug.“He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“What? Why haven’t you told him?” Her mom reached into her pocket. “Did you need a phone? Let me call him—”

“No! No, mom, please don’t call him,” she begged.

“He’s been worried sick, honey,” her mother told her, and something twisted painfully in Laurel’s gut. “Your father loves you.”

“He won’t- he won’t love me if he finds out,” she managed around the lump rising in her throat. “He’ll hate me. If he doesn’t already—when he drinks he says things, he blames me for Sara getting on the boat, and then he says he didn’t mean it, but he would this time. He already thinks I’m a—you don’t know what it’s been like, you left.”

“Alright, alright, I’m not calling.” Her mother placed the phone down and instead knelt in front of her. “Tell me what’s happened. Are you in some kind of trouble?”

Laurel shook her head, wiping furiously at the tears that continued to spill over. This wasn’t really the plan. But her mother was here and listening, actually listening to her. And it had been so long since she could truly talk to someone she knew.

A tremulous smile rose to her face. “I’m pregnant.”

Her mother’s eyes went wide before darting to her stomach. She wasn’t showing yet, which was normal or so the scant reading material she’d been able to get her hands on said.

“Oh, Laurel.”

Her smile fell just as quickly as it had come. “I know.”

“I can’t imagine, and with Tommy—”

A choked sob left Laurel, and she shook her head as her eyes squeezed shut in shame. “It’s not Tommy’s.”

“Then who—? Oh, honey.” For the second time that night, her mom reached out and hugged her. Laurel held on tight this time, needing the comfort, needing the release.

“I know. I know it looks bad. We’d broken up, and then Oliver told me he still loved me, and I- I just didn’t think.” She sniffed loudly and swiped at her nose. “God, mom, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.”

Laurel froze, and her mother pulled back slowly, her hands trailing down Laurel’s shoulders to rest on her arms.

“I know I haven’t been a very good mother to you — or a mother at all.” Her mom looked down, not seeming able to meet her gaze. “You should have felt able to come to your father or I the minute you found out, and if you didn’t I only have myself to blame.” She looked up again, and Laurel was shocked to see tears in her eyes. “I was so consumed with grief from losing Sara that I didn’t realize I was losing you, too. And I don’t know how I can make that up to you.”

Laurel found it nearly impossible to speak around the lump in her throat. “That’s okay, mom. It’s okay.”

“Tell me what you need. Whatever you need.”

She was rapidly becoming overwhelmed. “I- I was just hoping to stay for a week, maybe two? I need to find somewhere to work or I’m gonna run out of money, and I—”

Her mother shook her head. “You’ll stay here, but for as long as you need. Let me do what I should have been doing for you. You take care of the baby.” She rose up to place a kiss on the top of Laurel’s forehead. “I’ll look after the rest.”

Somehow, despite everything that had happened in her life so far, this was the moment she really felt she was dreaming.

Two months ago

Laurel had fallen into something of a routine. Wake up, eat with her mother, head out for a walk around the neighborhood or do some exercises at home while her mom left to teach. Even if her stomach was slowly beginning to grow didn’t mean she had to totally let herself go, and it wasn’t as though she had much else to do apart from the occasional check up on the baby. Then she read up on the news in both Central and Starling or picked up one of the paperbacks lying around the house.

Probably the strangest adjustment was just how much time she and her mother spent together now. They got dinner or Laurel would attempt to fix something that would then need to be salvaged once her mom got home from the University, on weekends they watched movies, and rather than a partner it was her mom that accompanied her to the classes on breathing and other what-to-know-about-expecting-and-parenting techniques. It was...nice.

These days, sometimes Laurel had the night to herself if her mom was out on a date, though she had yet to meet the boyfriend. The first few weeks, her mother had come straight home from classes and always seemed relieved to find Laurel still there. She hadn’t brought up contacting her dad again yet either, which she suspected was out of fear that Laurel might run for it. She couldn’t really say whether or not it was warranted.

It still felt unreal how well her mother had taken the news, and she didn’t know if she could hope for the same from her father. It didn’t stop the guilt from churning on the few occasions her parents talked, and her mother had to lie over the phone that she still hadn’t seen her. Yet still she relied on her mom’s silence.

Of course just when she’d gotten settled, everything changed again.

“Billionaire and son of the woman accused of conspiring to commit mass murder, Oliver Queen, has returned to his hometown and in just the nick of time. With Stellmoor International poised to buy the majority of shares in Queen Consolidated, the Queen heir will need to hope for another miracle not unlike his rescue from an island in the North China sea one year ago.”

“Will you tell him?” Her mom stood with her arms braced on the kitchen counter, eyes on the television.

“I don’t know.” It had been so long, she’d simply begun to assume none of them would ever hear from Oliver again. Now he was back and totally unaware of the plight she was in. Could she even hope he’d want to be involved at this stage?

He had a sense of duty to family, that was true. Laurel wasn’t sure if this counted. Did an accident borne out of a moment of passion warrant his concern? Did Laurel?

“Maybe I should let him get settled back in first?”

Her mother shrugged, leaving the choice up to her.

The next forty-eight hours saw an attack at Queen Consolidated, Thea kidnapped and saved by the Hood who made a surprise return, and Oliver only barely acquiring a co-ownership of his family’s company. And it only seemed to grow worse from there. Laurel watched in horror the next week as Alderman Sebastian Blood of the Glades whipped up an angry mob to swarm Oliver’s car, one member of the crowd smashing a window with a thrown brick.

“It’s just not safe, is it?” She asked her mother as she paced back and forth behind the couch. “And even if it was, Oliver’s just managed to hold onto the company, Mrs. Queen’s trial is coming up...their family doesn’t need a scandal like this.” Laurel glanced down at the bulge in her stomach her old Starling U hoodie wasn’t quite able to hide anymore. “And I couldn’t do that to the baby.”

“As much as I think he at least ought to know, I can’t help but agree. Anyone connected with the Queens right now seems to be in danger.” Her mother was frowning, but clearly resigned. “Keeping the baby safe is your first priority, Laurel. Maybe someday things will calm down, but...Oliver will have to understand.”

Laurel spent the next week restless and unhappy. Decided as she was, now more than ever she missed her home and the people there. In an ideal world, she could be picking out baby names with Oliver, mediating lunch with her dad, getting Thea’s advice on how to decorate a nursery...but ideal was the last way to describe her world.

Maybe it could be worth it. She’d been in danger plenty of times over the last year and always come out of it. Maybe if she let herself try, it could work.

Of course, one evening the news served a cruel reminder of just how unsafe Starling currently was.

“Serial killer Barton Mathis, also called the Dollmaker, broke his usual pattern tonight by abducting Officer Quentin Lance. Lance was responsible for Mathis’ incarceration just five years ago, and police are considering this an act of revenge.”

“Oh, Quentin.” Her mother was watching with a hand over her mouth and wide eyes.

“I should be there. God, mom, what have I been doing?” All this time, letting her fear over her father’s reaction keep her from spending time with him. What if that time had run out? What if she’d never get to tell him, never get to make things right?

She nearly had her suitcase half-packed when her mother cried out from the main room, “Laurel! Laurel, they’re saying he’s been found!”

She dropped the shirt she’d been folding and rushed back in front of the television. Early reports were indicating some involvement from the Hood, and she found herself once again unaccountably grateful for his existence, whoever he was.

“Are they saying what condition dad’s in?”

“Not yet.”

She had to know. With trembling fingers, she took out the phone her mother had gotten her when she’d started staying here.

“Laurel?” Her mother asked.

“Oliver will know if dad’s okay,” she said quietly, more to herself than anything. “I can ask him, and then maybe- maybe we can talk. I...I don’t want something bad to happen to one of them without them knowing.”

She’d entered the last digit and now hit the call button, waiting with her breath held as it rang.

Just when she was thinking he wouldn’t pick up, he did. “Hello?”

Her mind went completely blank at the sound of his voice, and Laurel couldn’t think of what to say.

“Hello?” Oliver repeated, a bit more tersely this time. “Is anybody—”

He’d stopped, and she didn’t know why. She knew she should speak, but her voice still wouldn’t come.

And then Oliver said one word. “Laurel?”

Her breath hitched. How? How could he possibly know?

And yet on the other end of the line, Oliver only sounded more certain of himself as he tried again, “Laurel, please, if—”

She ripped the phone from her ear, mashing the end call button, just barely catching his cry of “—wait!”

“Honey?” Her mom was watching her with evident concern.

“I—I just—” It felt like her throat was closing up, and the phone fell from her fingers as she dropped her head into her hands.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Her mother said, sitting next to her on the couch and wrapping her arms around her.

“How do I even tell him, mom? How do I tell him now?”

Her mother held her through her tears over the absolute mess she’d made of things.

Two hours ago

Laurel stood in line at the post office shifting her weight from foot to foot, and not only because they were tired of carrying her weight. Part of her still wanted to turn around and walk right out, but she’d made it this far.

The little box she held kept drawing her eyes, and she’d lost track of how many times she’d read the address she’d written on the side. The name on that address in particular.

Quentin Lance

After many long, late night talks with her mother, she’d finally made the decision to reach out. The baby was due in just under two months, and while she still couldn’t work up the nerve to go back to Starling City herself, it was long past time for her to face up to her actions. At least to her father. It hadn’t been fair to keep this from him, no matter what he thought of her as a result. Whether he chose to shut her out of his life permanently was his choice, but at the least he would know she was okay. As okay as she could be, all things considered.

She stepped up to the next available counter. “Hi, how are you?”

“Fine, thank you. And you?” The post office worker rattled off in a bored tone.

“Fine, thanks. How much is it to make sure it arrives before Christmas?”

“Well, we’ve got rates for priority or expedited shipping, overnight—”

“I’ll take overnight,” Laurel decided. Now that she was here and really doing this it seemed silly to wait any longer. Either her dad would forgive her or he wouldn’t, but it was the holidays, and this was the best she could give him.

Her abruptness caused a blink from the woman behind the counter, and she actually seemed to look at Laurel properly for the first time.

“Alright, press that button on the screen,” the woman told her. She handed over the money next and waited for her change.

“You have a good holiday.”

“Thanks, you too,” said Laurel.

“Is the little one coming before or after?”

She found herself smiling in spite of her nerves. “After. I’m still two months from my due date.”

“Well, you take care now. And good luck!”

Laurel left the counter and the package behind, not necessarily feeling any better about it but knowing it was out of her hands now. She’d just have to see what happened once her dad received it.

A man held the door open for her as she exited the post office, and Laurel thanked him before turning to find a bench just outside to sit on until her mom’s class let out that evening and she could pick her up. She didn’t mind waiting. It was plenty warm out for December.

As the time dragged on, however, storm clouds began to gather, causing the skies to darken even quicker than usual. She moved back inside for a time and made a stop in the restroom, but a glance at her watch showed she’d be forced out again soon enough.

“You got a ride home?”

Laurel jumped, but it was only the woman who had helped her at the counter. She was zipping up a raincoat and had an umbrella.

“Should be on its way,” Laurel answered.

“Alright, you have a good night then. Shame we’re getting rain like this instead of snow for the holidays.”

“Yeah.” Laurel watched the woman head out to her car, then exited the post office before one of the other workers felt they had to ask her to leave. The bench was still unoccupied so she reclaimed it and settled in to wait again and worry about the package and her father.

Even if it didn’t look or feel much like Christmas, she’d just have to hope for a miracle, because that was what it was going to take for this family of hers to come back together.

But it wasn’t a miracle that struck only an hour later.

#lauriver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #laurel x oliver #black canary #green arrow #thea queen #dinah lance #joanna de la vega #my writing

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skuulduggery-blog · 6 years

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bbbbbhhhhhhh i guess i should finally throw a “ indefinite hiatus ” up on this blog for those who havent assumed as much fdskg

i lasted longer the second time around, but honestly it was only a matter of time, for two reasons:

1: i’ve only had one blog i’ve held consistently longer than a month, i’m just really bad at keeping them

2: soon, i’m going to make a youtube channel, and all of my free time will be put into that

so this is the tl;dr version of what’s gonna be below, so if that’s all you need, then thanks for sticking around! i’ve gathered abt 20 random followers the past couple days and it’s made me feel so damn guilty not saying anything... i’ve been weighing this for a couple weeks, and i’ve only just gathered the nerves to do so. for those who are gonna dip out here: i deeply appreciate the time we’ve spent, and thank you for tagging along on my very brief journey here! mutuals can ask for my discord, otherwise... it’s been nice knowin’ y’all! it’s really unfortunate i didn’t couldnt do more with you all, but i dont mind small stuff on discord, esp if you’re open to exploring other muses! i love u all <3

all right, who’s still left?

anyway, as i said, and as i briefly mentioned upon my previous return to this blog: this happens a lot. it’s so hard for me to keep to one single muse for a long period of time. i had hoped after a long break from roleplaying that something might change, but i have so many short-lived blogs under my belt that i’m honestly not surprised. it sucks, really, regardless of how hard i try to stick around, it just... happens. so, like i said last time: if it happens again, i’ll probably just stop trying, as it’s bound to happen again. but! that doesn’t mean i dont wanna rp anymore. while i might not have muse for spy right now, i do for others, if anybody’s interested in trying to find another mutual grounds, or try something crossover-y. who knows!

to further on the second point: i’ve been planning this for MONTHS, getting all of my equipment, writing scripts, etc. i had started to feel a little burnt out (since other than work and sleep, i was doing this), and wanted to take a creative break, but got SUPER distracted with this blog, completely pushing YT stuff aside. and that’s not bad! i was having fun, and my fursuit has been pushed back on its completion date (previously was early march). i planned on using this as a little passtime before my suit was finished, but more complications came up w/ completion. right now, despite my mostly dead muse, i really need to shift focus back onto pre-launch prep, i still have some stuff i need to situation, accounts to polish, and some channel art stuff etc etc etc... !! this is something i’m super passionate about, and is DEFINITELY a priority over roleplaying, i hope yall can understand. :^(

i’m not too sure if i will come back? but i dont wanna burn the bridge so early... what if i end up hating my YT stuff and wanna jump on here for a couple weeks or so? y’all seem to be pretty accepting of random activity, so i don’t wanna say goodbye JUST YET........ i like to keep options open!

anywho, if anybody wants to keep in touch, i’m pretty active on twitter!! and if anybody wants, when i go live on youtube, i can post a link here... but only if ppl are curious or want me to i guess??? idk. point is: please keep in touch! just cos im not here anymore doesnt mean i dont still love yall... but. for real now: i deeply appreciate and love each ‘n every one of yall, and thanks for making my (brief) time here memorable! <3

#· | out of cloak. 🔫#🐾 [ redacted ]: shitposting. 🔫

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ficswithrimi · 7 years

Text

Golden (Part 9)

First: Part 1

Last: Part 8

Next: Part 10

Wanna talk to Golden and get to know him? OR EXPOSE HIM? Then follow @goldenrecs

A/N: IT’S THE MOMENT WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! GOLDEN PART 9! Sorry for almost the year long wait. Yikes. If you thought things were spicy in part 8 JUST READ THIS PART! Also, thanks to all my followers who stuck with me in this long hiatus and gave me courage through the tough times I had earlier in the year. I truly love you all and hope you still with me til the end. ALSO FicsWithRimi is my new URL. IGOT7BTS-SCENARIOS is dead cuz well.. I don’t just write for kpop anymore? Okay enough babbling. ENJOY GOLDEN PART 9! Also listen to this. Bye.

Chloe and you never had serious fights. Sure, there had been times when both of you got angry at one another. Like, for instance, the time when Chloe accidentally told your mother that you lost your virginity in high school or when you accidentally ripped Chloe’s favorite green crop top that she swore on her grandmother’s grave was lucky – she claimed it was what helped her get into college. Still, those times and the others were nothing too dramatic. You always felt like your friendship was too strong to get mad at each other over trivial things like middle schoolers. Chloe was hot-tempered and – let’s just all admit it – wild. She did some pretty outrageous things and got angered quickly over others. Still, she’d always come back to her senses once having a few hours to cool off. So, with that logic, you were almost certain Chloe would return the next day after you guys little fight from the night your friends and you went out to dinner. However, the day turned into a week and suddenly it was the end of midterm week and you both had one final midterm to complete in creative writing. You hoped she would show up to the midterm today since she hasn’t been to class all week and even missed the review day. You hadn’t physically seen her in the dorm room you shared but you assumed she’s been in there in your absence since some of her stuff have been disappearing all week. However, you knew you’d definitely make contact with her today considering she left her room key on the bathroom counter. You noticed it this morning when getting ready to go to your final midterm. You planned out everything in your head. You’d try to finish the midterm around the same time as her and try to catch her in the hall. There, you’d quickly show her that you had her key, which she’d no doubt would try to snatch from your grasp, and you’d explain to her the entire Namjoon situation and pray that she’d be understanding. If she cooperated – which she should – then you’d finally give her the key back and hug it out like the best friends you were.

Chloe must’ve liked Namjoon more than you originally thought. She would never behave like this towards you for any other guy. In fact, she’d probably own up to whatever guy she liked that, yeah, she had a blog about her feelings for them and what were they going to do about it? Nothing. That’s what. However, after this entire incident, you knew to Chloe, Namjoon was more than just a temporary crush. She held legitimate feelings for the man. Though she showed it in outrageous ways, it was all sincere.

Sighing, you rinsed your mouth from brushing your teeth and grabbed Chloe’s key off the counter and exited the bathroom. As you walked over to your desk to grab your things to begin your walk to your midterm, there was a knock on the door. Who was up at 6am other than the other students who had 8am midterms? More so, why were at your door at 6am? Suddenly, you looked down at the key in your hand and remembered Chloe. She must’ve finally realized she didn’t have her key and came back to retrieve it. This would work out perfectly. Instead of trying to talk to her after the midterm, you’d just explain things to her now and maybe you guys could walk to creative writing together. Quickly, you slung your bookbag over your shoulder and rushed to the door.

“Chloe – oh…” The smile on your face turned into a frown as Park Jimin leaned sleepily on your doorframe.

“I would comment on how you’re not happy to see me but it’s too damn early…” He yawned as he pulled himself off the frame and held his hand out. “I need Chloe’s dorm room key.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Did she really send Jimin here to fetch her key for her? “Uh… it’s okay. I can give it to her after our midterm.”

Hearing this caused Jimin to perk up a little. “I don’t think you fully understand how pissed she is at you. Like she’d held some pent-up anger for a while and this Namjoon thing has set her off.”

“I wasn’t even the one who told Namjoon about the blog!” You threw your hands up in the air. “Look, I’m going to explain everything to her after the midterm today.”

“She already took the midterm. She made some excuse of how she had to leave early to go home for fall break because her cat is sick and your professor felt bad for her so she let her take it early,” Jimin rolled his eyes. You both knew Chloe didn’t own a cat. However, it was just like Chloe to use that excuse. In the beginning of the semester, when showing an example of how the blogs should be, your professor admitted her love for cats and showed off her blog dedicated to them.

“So, if she’s gone, why does she need her key?” You arched a brow at the brown-haired boy. He let out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know. She leaves today. I guess she needs to get some things before taking off,” Jimin shrugged. “Just give me the key. Don’t you two live in the same city? Just meet up over break and talk things out, geez.”

“Where is she now?”

“I can’t disclose that information…” He turned his gaze to the ceiling. Frowning you yanked him by his shirt and bought him down to your height.

“Park Jimin, tell me where she is.”

“Don’t you have a midterm to attend?” He asked as he tried to pry your fingers off him. Geez, why did he have such violent girl friends? Sighing you let him go and handed over the key. There was honestly no use in talking to Chloe right now. If she had Jimin come retrieve her belongings, then that mean she was still highly upset with you. Still, you needed to talk to her about the situation. That, and you haven’t even told her about your meeting – date – with Taehyung tonight.

“Thanks for the key, see you later,” Jimin said as he began walking off. He stopped suddenly before turning back to you. “Don’t you have a date tonight?”

“It’s not a date,” You grumbled as you slammed your dorm room door shut behind you.

GoldenRecs: How does Creative Writing even have a midterm? I have no idea. No recommendations until Friday after exams. Sorry. If you’re in my CW class, let’s meet up to study, okay? :)

You sighed as you scrolled through Golden’s blog while waiting for your professor to arrive to begin the midterm. You secretly hoped he would have his recommendation up already before creative writing so some stress would be relieved. However, that wasn’t the case. Looking up, you saw Taehyung and Jungkook sitting beside one another. You decided to steer clear of the two in class since you were still unsure of which one was Golden and VMusic95. They just thought that you were more comfortable with sitting in the back than the front. Well, Taehyung assumed that. Jungkook just stared at you which made your face heat up in a blush. You didn’t know what it was about the boy that made you slightly nervous.

Your heart leapt at the sight of them sharing earbuds. From what you could see, they were listening to songs on each other’s phone. Taehyung must’ve agreed to whatever he was listening to on Jungkook’s phone as he turned to the boy and gave him two thumbs up. Jungkook just nodded at him before turning his attention back to his phone. Sighing, you opened your blog back up to see if Vmusic95 responded to the message you sent him earlier in the week. On Monday, while trying to stalk Chloe’s blog, you immediately realized you were blocked as her blog said you didn’t have permission to view her blog. Honestly, if Chloe would just listen then she’d understand this entire situation and see she’s upset at you for no reason. After not knowing how to approach Chloe, you turned to the other mysterious blog who you agreed to be friends with. Sometimes it was nice to receive advice from complete strangers. Well, he wasn’t a complete stranger…

You glanced up at Jungkook one more time as he began to put his phone and stuff away because the professor arrived. Quickly, you glanced back down to open your messages to see if he replied. As usual, you had to scroll past all the anon hate you received on almost a daily basis because of Golden. The wave of hate swarmed in over the weekend because people were upset that Golden referred to you as his friend.

Anon: So just to clarify, is y/n your friend? Or just someone you know and happen to follow back?

GoldenRecs: A friend.

Apparently, even to be friends with Golden was a crime to these people. God forbid they ever find out the other mysterious person who Golden talked to on an almost daily basis. They were an anon who only referred to themselves as E.M. You didn’t want to assume it was a girl but you did and it made you quite upset. Even if it wasn’t a girl, you still felt jealous. They could easily talk to Golden while you were too nervous to even send him a hi. He claimed you guys were friends but yet, you found yourself shying away when trying to talk to him. Maybe it was because he was so popular or… it was just the obvious feelings you had for the guy.

DancerCookies: Hey… care to offer advice? My friend is upset at me over something I had no control over and she thinks I did it. What should I do?

VMusic95: Hm… your friend sounds… difficult. No offense! Why don’t you guys talk things out like adults? I mean, we’re college kids, after all. If she’s not willing to cooperate, then is she a friend? Also, off topic, but I can’t wait to officially meet you in four weeks when we reveal ourselves!

We. We as in Golden and him. Four weeks was all that remained of the semester. Four weeks was all you had left until you’d finally see Taehyung admit he was Golden to the class – and university – that was obsessed with him and his blog. Four weeks until you had to make a final decision on your major and what you planned to do for the rest of your life.

“Y/N here,” Your classmate tapped you on the shoulder with the exam papers. Snapping out of your thoughts, you thanked them and took the paper.

Four weeks seemed like it was just around the corner and you weren’t prepared for everything that was about to be thrown at you.

“Woo! I can’t wait to go home for break!” Taehyung shouted excitedly as he and Jungkook exited their creative writing midterm. “That was my last one. How about you?”

“I have one more…” Jungkook said as he pulled out his phone to check the plethora of messages he was positive he had received while taking the 30-minute midterm.

“Ah, Golden is always buzzing, huh?” Taehyung playfully bumped Jungkook’s shoulder only to receive a glare from the younger boy.

“Way to say that aloud in public,” He frowned. Taehyung just defensively put up his hands and laughed it off.

“Sorry. So hey, I’m meeting with Y/N tonight,” Taehyung changed the topic. At the mention of the girl’s name, Jungkook’s fingers froze in place from responding to one of his messages. He had temporarily forgotten that Taehyung had a date with her tonight.

“Yeah…” He said slowly as he tried to regain his concentration on his phone.

“I wanna take her somewhere cool before we go on fall break so she can think of me all weekend!” Taehyung grinned.

“You’re hanging around Jimin too much,” Jungkook rolled his eyes and began to walk in the direction of his dorm.

Taehyung quickly walked in front of Jungkook to stop him from walking and to pay attention to him. “You talk to her, right? What does she like to do?”

Jungkook blinked at the man in front of him. Why was he asking him for advice about where to take someone? Sure, Jungkook had a past with being popular with ladies – he still is – despite being shy, still, Taehyung had far more experience in the dating department than he did. Was he really that into Y/N? And if he was, how would he let him know he was into her as well? It’s only been a couple weeks but the time he’s spent with her has been amazing. He was still upset that Taehyung was able to ask the girl to hang out alone before he was.

“Uh… she likes to dance. She’s a great dancer, in fact! And she cooks well, apparently,” Jungkook shrugged. “Also, she doesn’t hold liquor well so try to avoid alcohol…”

“Thanks – hey – how do you know she doesn’t hold alcohol well?” Taehyung arched a brow at the boy. His face flushed as he shrugged again.

“Uh… I was near her at the party when it got to her…”

“Ah, that’s right. So dancing and cooking, huh? I just need to know a couple of things about her to talk to her about at dinner. Thanks for the advice! I’m gonna go catch some sleep before going to pick her up later! You’re going home after your last midterm, right? Good luck,” Taehyung waved to Jungkook as he took off in the direction of his own dorm. Jungkook let out a heavy sigh as he looked up to the clear sky above him. How has this girl who was supposed to be no one but Namjoon’s good friend and an acquaintance to the rest of the boys gone and stole two of their hearts in the course of three weeks? Jungkook didn’t know but he did know one thing.

He couldn’t let Taehyung have her.

Hi! You’ve reached Chloe. I’m not answering my phone for reasons but I’ll call you back later. Maybe. Don’t count on it. Unless you’re my mom.

You sighed as you hung up the phone. You’ve been trying to reach Chloe since you got out of your midterm. Vmusic95 was right about talking things out – though you already thought of doing that already – and if Chloe wasn’t willing to talk then maybe you guys weren’t as close as you thought you guys were. She’s been there through thick and thin for you since you’ve known her and you’d hate to see it all go down the drain over a misunderstanding. Opening your phone again, you decided to check Golden’s blog for an update. However, nothing was updated except for a few messages he answered. Inhaling a deep breath, you decided to message him. You needed a good song recommendation today and usually he was spot on about your feelings whether he knew it or not. That’s one of the reasons you crushed on him. He was somehow in tune with you.

DancerCookies: It's Friday... could really use a song recommendation right about now lol...

Logging out of the app, you looked at the time. You had to finish packing for the weekend before getting ready to go out with Taehyung. Glancing at your half-packed bag beside you, you decided to give Chloe another call first.

Hi! You’ve reached Chloe...

Taehyung didn’t mention where you guys were going so you honestly didn’t know what to wear. So, you based your outfit off the chilly autumn air. You figured wherever you guys ended up going, it would lead into the night since it was already in the evening. You ended up wearing a mustard colored light sweater, distressed jeans, and your favorite pair of Timbs. After applying a bit of makeup, you checked yourself out in the bathroom mirror. It was a simple but cute outfit. You didn’t want to give him the impression that you put too much thought in your outfit even if you really did. You were going out with Golden after all. Your heart leapt at the fact. If you weren’t so scared to stand up to the hate you got on your blog, you’d most definitely tease the desperate girls who planned to ask Golden out once he revealed himself. But… weren’t you also one of those girls?

You were in the same position as the other girls who crushed on the mysterious blogger. What made you any different from the rest of them besides the fact that maybe – just maybe – you might know his true identity? Other than that, you still didn’t know who he was - you crushed on an almost complete stranger - and your crush was based only on his suave online personality and music taste just like the other girls on his blog. Still, there had to be something about you that made you different, right? He did decide to be your friend. Or maybe that was just because of Namjoon and Jimin influencing him to befriend you?

You shook the thoughts from your head as you heard a knock from the door. He was here. Snatching your room key off your desk, you ran to the door and answered it. There stood Taehyung in a green sweater with a light brown jacket over it and baggy jeans. He grinned his square shaped grin at you as a blush creeped up on your face.

“Ready to go?” He asked excitedly.

“Uh yeah,” You shyly smiled at him as you fully stepped out of your dorm and shut the door behind you.

“Great! I hope you know how to skate!”

And with that the smile faded from your face.

Roller skating wasn’t your thing. It wasn’t your thing when you were five and fell face down on the pavement at your aunt’s house and bled in multiple places. It wasn’t your thing at your 12th birthday party when you tried to give it another chance and ended up falling on your ass in front of your crush. You expected a fairy tale situation to happen when you fell and he’d quickly come to rescue you but instead he laughed until he had to gasp for air. And roller skating definitely wasn’t your thing now.

There was a rink on the other side of campus. It was a rundown place considering it was built when the Disco was still popular and the bright neon colors painted on the building was now chipping off to reveal the aged white paint underneath. You remember your mom telling you stories about how she’d get her college friends to help sneak her in since back then it only permitted college kids. The inside had a decent wooden skating rink that had seen better days and desperately needed a good polishing. The multicolored polka dot carpet was also aged and gave the place a smell of mildew and sweat that’s been concentrated there for decades. It frightened you to even think about putting your feet in the rental skates. If the place looked like this, just imagined the condition of the skates. But, you were going to make the best of the situation. You were here with Taehyung. Taehyung who was supposedly Golden.

“Hey, I’m gonna go to the restroom really quick,” Taehyung smiled at you as you tied up your skates.

“You’re gonna pee while in skates?” You blinked at him. If you were to do that, you’d probably end up giving yourself an unintentional swirly.

“Yeah, it’s no big deal,” He grinned at you before skating off towards the restrooms. Sighing, you scooted back further onto the wooden bench you sat upon. How was this evening going to play out? The last thing you needed was to break anything. That and you’d hate to embarrass yourself in front of the almost perfect Golden.

Bzz. Bzz.

You reached into your pocket to retrieve your phone to read your notification. It was probably your mom wondering what time were you going to arrive at the bus station tomorrow. Clicking on your phone, your eyes widened at the notification from the blogging app.

GoldenRecs has replied to your message: 37 seconds ago

You glanced up to the restrooms and saw Taehyung had yet to appear. Did he excuse himself to reply to the message you sent him earlier? Not wasting another second, you clicked on the notification to open the app.

GoldenRecs: Your wish will be granted soon, princess.

Immediately your face flushed a deep red from the nickname. Princess? What had gotten into Golden? The hate was going to be strong now. Of course, he could’ve meant it in a sarcastic way as to say, “don’t rush me,” but somehow you knew he didn’t mean it in that context.

“Hey, ready to get your skate on?” Taehyung smiled as he gracefully glided over to you. You instantly looked up and shoved your phone back into your pocket and stood up. To your dismay, you immediately began to lose your balance on the skates and wobbled slightly. Taehyung quickly reached for your arm to help balance you and you threw him an apologetic look.

“Sorry, I’m a really horrible skater,” You rubbed the back of your neck nervously.

“It’s okay, you can just hold on to me the entire time, okay?” He winked at you as he led you to the floor. Meanwhile you tried to use your hair to cover the blood red blush on your face.

“You’re doing great,” Taehyung grinned as he looked down to your hands that were clutching onto his arm tightly.

“My legs are going to give out any second,” You said through gritted teeth as you focused on the ground below you. The back of your calves was on fire which surprised you. You thought since you were a dancer and highly flexible you wouldn’t feel pain from lack of stretching but here you are struggling – dying – to complete the fifth go around on the roller rink. The place wasn’t too crowded besides a couple of fellow university students who probably didn’t have plans to go home for the short break. So, with that you didn’t have to worry about accidentally bumping into someone and causing everyone to tumble over – something that actually happened when you were 17. Like you said, skating just wasn’t your thing.

“You wanna take a break,” Worry filled Taehyung’s eyes as he slowed down some. You were about to nod your head until a familiar song came on the speakers. It was Tori Kelly’s Paper Hearts. Also, known as the song you stretched to before beginning a dance. It was easily your favorite song. Sometimes you and Jimin would bellow the song out loudly around Chloe to annoy her. She loved the song but just not when you guys sung it.

“Wait, let’s skate to this song then take a break?” You said as you held tightly onto Taehyung as you shook out your legs to prepare them to go around the rink for the duration of the song. Taehyung nodded as he kicked off to start skating again.

“So, you like this song too, huh?” He asked as he looked down at you. For the first time a small smile was on your face as you focused your attention in front of you instead of on the floor. This caused a smile to appear on Taehyung’s face also. You were honestly an adorable girl.

“Yeah! Jimin told me about it! I love it! I stretch to it before every dance I do!”

“Jungkook likes this song, too! He randomly started listening to it a couple of weeks ago.”

You felt your heart pang at the mention of the younger boy’s name. Why did it do that? “Yeah, it’s an amazing song, right?”

“Eh, it’s okay. Not really my style,” Taehyung shrugged as you two rounded a corner. The smile that was on your face faltered a little at his answer. This song was definitely down Golden’s alley. At least you thought so anyway. Maybe you didn’t know Golden’s style of music as well as you had initially thought. Shaking it off, you returned your smile and glanced up at Taehyung.

“So Tae, you’re a junior, right? What’s your major?”

“Theater major and music minor. I wanna be on Broadway,” He smiled proudly. You stared at him in awe for a second as you imagined him on stage performing. There’s no doubt he’d be phenomenal. Your second of admiration ended quickly, though, as you began to trip up on your skates.

“Careful,” Tae laughed as he gripped onto you tighter. You just sheepishly laughed as you tried to shake off your embarrassment. “What’s your major? Dance? Jungkook told me you danced… and cooked.”

This time your smile completely fell. You haven’t thought about your major at all this week because of midterms, the fallout with Chloe, and this date. What were you going to tell him? You were undecided? It wouldn’t be a lie but how would he view you? Would he see you as someone who didn’t have their life together? You were a smart girl it’s just, making a final decision now that would determine your future was frightening. Sure, there were plenty of college students who were undecided but this wasn’t like you. You were always so sure about your life but this… you just weren’t sure about. And it deeply bothered you. Even Chloe, who wasn’t even planning on going to college, had her major declared and was literally in love with it. That was another fear. What if you chose something and ended up hating it? You loved dancing and cooking but what if once you really began to study it, you begin to hate it? Honestly, you couldn’t live without one or the other. And what about your mom and grandmother? They both want you to pursue different paths. How could you choose without disappointing one of them?

“Undecided?” Taehyung asked suddenly, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Ah… yeah… how’d you know?”

“You started skating perfectly all of a sudden,” Taehyung laughed as you quickly looked down to see that, in fact, you were skating without any mishaps. “When you don’t think about it and let it happen naturally, you skate just fine. Anyways, also I know because you looked stressed all of a sudden.”

“Ah…” You said as you frowned slightly.

“It’s okay. Don’t stress it. You’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah but-“

“Hey! The song’s over! Wanna grab something to eat?” Taehyung said, cutting you off. You just nodded before he began to lead you off the floor. Biting your lip, you looked at him. Why were you disappointed suddenly? You wanted to ask how he decided on his major – how he’d know it was the right choice for him? Golden for sure would offer a piece of advice and how he conquered his problems. Why did Taehyung just… brush it off? Was Golden just an online persona for him? How could the same person be so… different?

Jungkook sighed as he laid on his bed in his darkened dorm room. His roommate had left earlier in the day to return home so that left Jungkook to become lost in his thoughts. He could’ve gone to visit Jimin or Namjoon but he just didn’t feel like dealing with people. Instead, he wondered what Taehyung and Y/N were doing on their date. He had received her message earlier and made sure to reply when he was sure she was near Taehyung. Jungkook secretly hoped Golden would be all she could think about while with the older man since he purposefully called her “princess.” He even secretly dedicated another recommendation to her. She seemed so stressed over choosing a major and her midterms and he felt the need to reassure her on things. That, and Jimin accidentally let it slip that her and her best friend weren’t speaking currently because of Namjoon or something. So Jungkook felt it would a perfect indirect response to her feelings:

This Week’s Recommendation: IU - Beautiful Dancer

Shout out to my wife for making this beautiful song. Know what else is beautiful? You guys. If something is bothering you or you’re unsure of yourself, just know you can do ANYTHING you put your mind to and overcome ALL obstacles life throws your way. Don’t give up. Don’t know what you wanna do with your life? You’ll figure something out. Don’t know how to handle an upsetting situation? It’ll work out eventually. Just don’t give up and keep fighting and smiling. See you all next Wednesday. Also, do any of you know a beautiful dancer? I know one :)

-Golden

Letting out a groan, he grabbed his pillow and covered his head with it. Why did he call her princess? That was so out of character for him. Well, Golden is the more outgoing side of Jungkook but still. It was going to be embarrassing on the day of the final when he reveals himself to everyone – to her. She’d definitely remember the message. He would if he was her.

Bzz.

Jungkook’s hand blindly felt around on his bed for his phone. Grabbing it and turning it on, he squinted his eyes from the screen’s bright glow. There were about 100 notifications from his blog and a text from his mom asking was he coming home tomorrow for fall break. Jungkook hadn’t planned on leaving but maybe going to spend time with his family would be a nice break from the stress of college. After responding to his mom with a, “yes,” he scrolled down his messages. His eyes immediately widened as he came across a message he received a couple of seconds ago.

Anon: Your fave anon is here to bless you with her presence! But be quick, her bus for her city leaves in a few minutes! So let's make this quick, shall we, Golden? -NJsC

What were they talking about? Jungkook blinked confusedly as he began to response to the message. They’ve been missing for weeks and suddenly they appear and leaves cryptic messages.

GoldenRecs: Ah, my favorite stalker. Long time, no talk. Also what are we making quick? Are you going to quickly tell me what NJsC stands for, Nick Jonas Mysterious C?

Jungkook reread over the message one more time after posting it to his blog. Usually Nick Jonas Mysterious C replied quickly so he kept refreshing his messages awaiting their reply. To his dismay, it didn’t seem like they were going to send another message. Just as Jungkook clicked off his phone there was a knock at his bedroom door and a vibration from his phone to signal a new message had arrived. It was probably Jimin coming to annoy him or something. He knew he shouldn’t have told him that he was just lounging around in his dorm. Jimin always took that as some sort of invitation to come over. He’d respond to NJsC’s new message after he shooed Jimin away.

Hoping out of his bed, Jungkook dragged his feet to the door to open it. His eyes widened at he stared at the blonde woman standing in his door. She had an overstuffed backpack on her back that made it appear as if she was running away from home but Jungkook knew she was probably just going home for the weekend.

“Uh… can I help you-“ Jungkook was shushed as the woman placed a finger on his lips to stop him from talking.

“NJsC. Namjoon’s Chloe. I know who you are and now you know who I am,” Chloe said as she watched Jungkook’s eyes widened.

Anon: Count to five and I’ll appear… -NJsC

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