#me deciding casualness is okay bc i am 'child of' calling:
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mom driving: call ur dad’s workplace and say you want to speak to him
me: [doing that word for word]
mom: [corrects my words to chastise me n point out i was being rude and could be more polite]
bruh you TOLD me to say that.
#personal tag#its like. so hard to get how she works#which like honestly i dont care to do anymore bc fuck her and her bullshit#BUT IF YOU TELL ME TO SAY THAT EXACTLY THEN IM GONNA SAY THAT EXACTLY!!!!!#STOP CHASTISING ME FOR SHIT YOU TOLD ME TO DO BITCH. IM SO TIRED OF IT#plus like. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa#me deciding casualness is okay bc i am 'child of' calling:#mom; making clear that was a wrong choice without even knowing its a choice i decided on#anyway. im fucking tired of always fucking up somehow. yknow#like idk. idk. idk.#im tired#dont rb this idk why you'd feel the need to in the first place but since yall need to be told nowadays; there it is
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except I walked out on you when your hair was starlight
I’ve been thinking about this potential theory for a long while now (I mean, like, since last year) and I can’t help but think that it’s one of the wilder things that might come even slightly true because it just aligns perfectly with what we currently know about the Monkey Dads just being very distant fathers who end up pulling the same shit.
9122 words; pure crackfic unless proven otherwise; has anyone else thought of this bc pls where are you I want to talk to you if you have; this is very much not my usual fare when it comes to relationship and family dynamics so don’t expect, like, actual parenting; I very much expect this to be considered null and void within five chapters of canon (very specifically 1084 lol) so pls humor me okay; is it canon compliant? We’ll find out; general warning for timeskips and me just making shit up
except I walked out on you when your hair was starlight; All Dragon wants to do is bring about a more just world by exposing the World Government for what it really is. He doesn’t have the wherewithal to deal with a child’s bounty poster that looks disturbingly like his ex. [9122 words; alternate interpretation as to why the Buster Call at Ohara was the last straw]
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
“You shouldn’t be here,” Clover said. Dragon shrugged casually at that.
“You’ve never been upset to see me before,” he reasoned. The young man casually leaned on the desk, giving the scholar a smirk. “I’m here to see Olvia. She around?”
“Even if she was, why would I let you see her?” Clover huffed. “Last time you were here you nearly got bodily fluid on priceless tomes of knowledge.”
“I am not the first person to have gotten lucky in this tree, and you’re just jealous it was never you,” the young man smirked. A certain platinum blonde then caught his eye and Dragon made his way around the desk and over to her side, done with pleasantries. “Old Man Clover’s bullying me.”
“Now why would he need to do that?” she wondered idly.
Oh, she knew.
“He’s jealous,” he offered.
“Professor Clover is one of the most renown archaeologists in the entire world; what would you have that he could be jealous of?”
A functioning libido, but they weren’t going to go there with other people nearby.
“Maybe,” she smirked, “I’ll have to study this condition of yours. Make sure it’s not… lethal.”
“Read my mind; pick you up at seven?”
“Seven-thirty—there’s a meeting I can’t skip again.”
“Fair.” He leaned down and pressed a light kiss against her cheek, a giggle getting out of her before walking away. “Seven-thirty!”
“Oh, and Dragon?”
He turned around, only to see the library in flames.
“Run.”
Gasping for air, Dragon sat upright in his bed, his body slick with sweat. He shakily looked around the room in the darkness—Baltigo, not Ohara.
Besides, Ohara burned ten years ago.
After turning off his alarm—it was fuck-all ‘o clock—Dragon decided it was good a time as any to get a head start on his work for the day. A full day of work would make him sleep solidly, and solid sleep meant no dreams, and no dreams meant no ghosts. He put his feet on the floor and shivered—there was nothing that could be done about the chill that seeped into the base, no matter what they did to prevent it.
The base was usually quiet around this time, thankfully, allowing Dragon to slip down the corridors relatively unnoticed. There was always the skeleton crew that kept an eye on things at night, but even they knew better than to bother their commander with anything more than a polite nod unless it was a real emergency. He was able to get to the showers and stood under the spray for a whole ten minutes before actually doing anything.
Did he feel guilty? Of course he did, but Ohara wasn’t coming back, even if its knowledge was all saved.
Then again, that’s why they were there, he reminded himself as he scrubbed his face. Ohara had been the last straw and now someone was fighting back. He’d told Vegapunk those years ago that it was because of Clover… because of the severe loss of knowledge and human life… but really… how many wars over the course of history had been waged for a woman?
Fuck.
In the end, an ex was just an ex, weren’t they? They both moved on. He had moved on.
So why was it getting to him?
Clothes, a shave, some coffee; before long, Dragon was sitting down at his desk, the dawn twilight not yet creeping across the sky. He looked at the pile of papers that had been placed in a very important pile since he’d last been in his office and grimaced—something told him he would have given the top spot to that organizational freak Bart had he known there was this much fucking paperwork involved with running a revolution. Taking the top one off the pile, he slowly started to clear out the backlog that admittedly had been growing for a few days at this point. Getting lost in work was usually fairly easy for him, and yet, he couldn’t help thinking about the real reason why he founded this seas-forsaken venture…
“They said you didn’t eat breakfast!”
Dragon snapped out of his daze as a tray was placed on his desk, culprit tilting his head in curiosity. Fuck the kid could move quieter than a cat.
“Oh, thank you, Sabo,” he said, blinking heavily. The kid’s bandages had recently been taken off and he could see the fresh burn scars, pink and shiny and raw; it pissed him off every time he saw it, and not because he hated the kid. It was almost impossible to hate someone who brought him coffee and a sandwich at… ah, shit, the sun was well past being up. “Iva hunting me yet?”
“Nah; they said they were gonna let you relax today,” the boy replied. He looked at the pile of papers that barely had a dent in it and frowned. “That’s a lot of bounty posters.”
“Yeah—I haven’t seen a lot of them either, which is really saying something,” Dragon frowned.
“Why’s that?”
“These are reissues; every so often, the World Government will reissue bounty posters of those whom they consider dangerous, even if they haven’t heard of them in a while.” He took the top one off the stack and handed it to the boy. “That one’s been circulating since I was younger than you.”
“Humming Brook… he’d be an old man by now, wouldn’t he?”
“He would.” He watched the kid’s expression—he was sharp for being only ten years old. “Does this… help at all…?”
“Not really,” Sabo admitted, handing back the poster. “I still can’t really remember that much from before.”
“It’ll come in time,” Dragon said, unsure if he was lying to the boy. The kid stood there awkwardly; neither of them knew what to do with him. If only dumping him with his dad wouldn’t mean putting him within arm’s reach of the Marines… “Say, go through these and rank them by potential for recruitment. Let me know what you think.” He took a chunk of the bounty posters and handed them to Sabo. “Just… rank them.”
“Yes, sir!” Sabo left the room and Dragon instantly felt exhausted. He hated to think what it would have been like had he been able to take his son along like planned… it was tiresome just thinking about it.
Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a little bit… yeah. That would be good.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
It was ironic how if someone would ask Dragon what his dreams were, he could easily say any number of things. Toppling the World Government? True peace? An unveiling of all the dirty laundry that was the Void Century’s secrets? A society designed to lift up and support everyone and not the select few? Having the ability to tell his father off to his face? He had a veritable list ready and waiting.
Except, sometimes, dreams weren’t goals and ambitions. They were places one’s brain went when they were at their most vulnerable, gripping them at their core and forcing someone to relive the impossible time and time again.
What truly were Dragon’s dreams?
He didn’t like to think about it.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
“What are you thinking about?”
Dragon looked over at Olvia and saw her face remained calm in thought as she stared up at the night sky. All he could think about was how gorgeous she looked in the starlight, the galaxies reflected in her eyes as they laid on the deck of his boat.
“There’s an expedition that Clover wants me to co-chair.” Ah. “It would be about a year.”
“Don’t say you’re breaking up with me, because you know I’ll just follow you.”
“Actually, I petitioned the professor to let you come along.”
“You did?! And…?!” He waited for a response. “Olvia…? What did Old Man Clover say…?”
She finally turned her head and looked at him, her expression sharp and steady as ever. “Wake up.”
“…that was rude of him.”
“No, sir, wake up.”
For the second time that day, Dragon shuddered awake, this time being jostled by Sabo. The boy jumped back as he flung himself forward towards his desk, the present world grabbing hold of him in a vice grip. Dragon quickly caught his breath and rubbed his face with both hands—fuck, this was getting bad. He looked at Sabo and saw that the kid’s eyes were wide and confused.
“I… uh… sorry…” he squeaked.
“No, no; it’s alright,” Dragon replied. He tried to shake the sleep from his body, only making it more of a shiver instead. “Does someone need me?”
“No, sir. I have what you asked of me.” The boy held aloft the stack of bounty posters and their prior conversation came flooding back to the man. That’s right—the bounty re-issues from around the time he was too busy founding an army to pay attention to who was up next for his father’s bosses’ chopping block. “I triple-checked; there’s only three good ones out of the entire lot.”
“Are there now?”
“Yeah—most of the people this stack are either really old or already spoken-for in a pirate organization.” Sabo put most of the stack on the desk face-down, holding back three papers.
“How do you know that?”
“I cross-referenced everything with our database; some of the duds are officers in the Big Mom Pirates, or with someone called Doflamingo in the North; I doubt they’d change alliances too swiftly based on their established levels of loyalty.”
“Keep this up kid and you might be gunning for Iva’s spot,” Dragon frowned. He took a sip of his coffee—ice cold—and watched the boy’s face brighten.
“Oh, I don’t want to be the G Army Commander,” Sabo beamed. “I want to be the Chief of Staff!”
Dragon was neither awake nor drunk enough for this. “…and what does that entail?”
“Doing important things for you!”
“Sabo… you won’t even officially be a member until you’re sixteen,” he chided. “Just… show me the candidates.”
“Okay!” The kid put the first page down. “This one is called Karasu. He’s from the North and got his bounty by beating up Marines that were bullying some civilians. I think he’d be a good match.” Dragon nodded with a grunt; okay. “This one is Waters Lila. She’s Southern and is known for breaking up slaver ships en route to Sabaody. If we get her, we’d likely get her whole crew as well—forty-strong at last estimate, many former slaves themselves.” He then hesitated, staring at the last poster.
“Yes…?” Yeah… definitely not drunk enough.
“I don’t know about her, but I think it’s a good chance if we can find her,” Sabo nodded.
Dragon raised an eyebrow. “If we can find her?”
“She was younger than me when she got her bounty, so I don’t know if she still looks the same.”
“Younger than you…? Those were the ten-year re-releases.”
“Well, she apparently wants to destroy the world according to the rumors, so there is that. I would too if I sank six ships to survive a Buster Call.”
“She what…?”
“Yeah,” Sabo exclaimed, placing the poster down. “Apparently she’s from the West Blue, from this island of people who were…” Dragon stared at the photo on the page in horror, Sabo’s voice fading into nothing.
WANTED – DEMON CHILD NICO ROBIN – DEAD OR ALIVE
80 MILLION BERRI
APPROACH WITH EXTREME CAUTION
Before him was the image of a small child, just a little older than his son was if he remembered correctly. His brow furrowed as he studied her face—there was no way she was anything other than Olvia’s blood. Her brother’s daughter, perhaps? It made him nauseous to think someone this small was listed for so much, so young.
“Sabo…?”
“Yes, sir?”
“How old would she be now? If she walked in through the door?”
“Eighteen!” the boy chirped. “I really think that she’s the best bet out of the lot—she has a pedigree.”
“I’m going to pretend you did not use that word,” he grimaced. Yeah, the kid was former nobility alright whether he hated it or not.
“Oh… well… her mom was pretty famous too! I found her bounty in the archives.” He took the top poster off the upside-down stack and held it out, making Dragon want to vomit.
Olvia.
It wasn’t her niece.
Oh, fuck, no…
Olvia’s daughter.
The only survivor of Ohara was Nico Olvia’s daughter.
A daughter who had her face, yet his coloring.
Seas almighty.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
“What the hell is your problem?!” he hissed at her. She had been sitting at her desk in the ship, a lantern illuminating the papers that were scattered everywhere. The rest of the expedition party had either long-since retired for the evening, or were on the shore around the bonfire—it was just them.
“I’m only doing my job. You knew that’s what this entire trip was about.” She hadn’t even looked away from the book and that seemed to just depress him more.
“Those have been here for hundreds of years; they’ll still be there in the morning.”
“I need to get this done before we ship out—there’s only two more days.”
“Two more days here, a week there, some hours elsewhere; it doesn’t end! It’s been three years of this!”
She put down her pen at that, closing her eyes to steel herself. “You knew what this was before we left Ohara.”
“I didn’t leave Ohara thinking I’d be ignored… that I’d go to bed alone most nights… that on the rare nights we are together, you’re too distracted to even fake it.” She stood, furious. “Oh, hey, an emotion—nice to see them again.”
“How dare you…”
“I think it’s the other way around, Olvia—we should have called it off while you were out on this stupid thing…”
“I thought you were behind what we were doing!”
“…when it didn’t mean I was being ignored by the woman I love!” He hunched his shoulders as he held hers, looking into her eyes. They were so fierce… so determined then that he had nearly lost himself in them. “I’m here now, Olvia. I…” He swallowed. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, playing second-fiddle to whispers and rocks.”
“We’re almost done. Just a few months and…”
“No.” His voice was quiet then—defeated, even—as realization settled on him. “We’re done.”
Tears ran down both their faces as he kissed her one final time.
When she went to bed that night, she went alone.
He was gone.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
All Ivankov knew was that Dragon was having a crisis.
He’d have those every once in a while in private, threatening to crack under the pressure of leadership. It was generally nothing, where he’d just do frantic laps of his office while attempting to talk himself out of whatever corner his assorted demons had shoved him into. If they were being particularly honest with themselves, it would have been a more troubling thing had Dragon not had a crisis now and then, given the sheer amount of pressure and obstacles that came from raising a revolution. All they, or Kuma, or both, had to do was simply stay with him until he calmed down and things would eventually be better again.
It had been nearly a whole day—he was not getting better.
“This is awful,” the man muttered for the fifty-second time that day. Ivankov poured themselves some tea from the service and raised a perfectly-manicured eyebrow.
“Are you havingk problems zat my Hormones vould fix?”
“No… just… fuck!” Dragon stopped his pacing long enough to take a swing at thin air before grabbing at his hair again. “I can’t believe I did that—fuck—how could I have done that?!”
Ivankov sipped their tea.
“Fucking hell, Iva! I’m having a mental breakdown here!”
“I can see,” they replied flatly. “You’re ze one vho seems to be very mum on details.” Dragon stopped moving and stared at his friend and comrade, nearly at his breaking point.
“You can’t tell anyone.”
“You know I keep your secrets.”
“No, Iva… this isn’t a normal secret. This is a something that, should you ‘learn’ about it in the future, you need to pretend that this conversation never, ever happened.”
“Vhat is so drastick that I need to play ze fool?”
“I think… I think I have a daughter,” he said, his tongue feeling thick as he spoke. “I think I walked out on my daughter.”
“You don’t have a daughter.”
“…but I walked out on this woman nineteen years ago.” Dragon took the bounty posters from his desk and showed it to Ivankov, who took put down their tea before taking the papers. “That child—her child—is now eighteen.”
“Her fazer could have been a rebound and ve vould not blame zis Olvia one bit.”
“Iva, I walked because she was too busy with those damned Poneglyphs to give me the time of day—any time we did…” Dragon exhaled heavily. “She was always too out of it to concentrate on us, so I left. I can almost guarantee there was no rebound.”
“Zis is vhy you people are exhaustingk,” Ivankov sighed. “How did you know eachozer?”
“She… was from Ohara… was one of Old Man Clover’s top researchers…”
“…and so, vhen you vent to investigate Clover’s knowledge assets—drawn in by the pursuit of zingks your fazer kept you from—you fell in love viz a girl instead…? How cliché, candy.” They put the papers down on the low table and went back to their tea. “You know for a fact she is yours?”
“I had Sabo research a stack of re-issued bounties—if her registry information’s correct, she was born six months after I last saw her mother. Olvia was distant, but she didn’t sleep around.” He rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. “Fuck…”
“Vhat does her registry information say about her fazer?”
“Dead.” They had to hand it to themselves—Ivankov didn’t think that finally getting information about Dragon’s past meant that he was going to spill it all… or if he was spilling this now, it was titillating to think of what else the man might have been hiding. “She made it look like she got married, never changed her name, and quickly became a widow. I’m sure that’s why… she has her family name instead of mine.”
“I’d imagine it’d be rough on a child, carrying a name zey had no connection to,” Ivankov shrugged. “Besides, if she had your name, that fazer of yours vould have kidnapped her longk ago.”
“Bad enough what he does have,” Dragon grumbled. Ivankov waited for an explanation and never got one—it was folly to think they were getting any more out of their friend than this very specific and embarrassing tidbit. They watched as he stopped moving, instead putting his hands on his waist. “So… what do we do…?”
“Not vhat ve do… but vhat you do.” They regarded him carefully. “You alvays know vhat to do. Vill you admit to everyone zat zis is revenge for a former lover? Zat zis child is more zan ze last of her kind? Or vill you do somezingk else? Somezingk interestingk?”
“Olvia wasn’t my lover, Iva—I would have married her if I could.”
“Zat is not here nor zere. Now: vhat vill you do?”
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
“What will you do?”
It was a simple enough question—the royal brat and his footman were due back in the sandpit soon, so he didn’t blame her for wondering. It was just him and Olvia in his room, the pair having snuck up there while Clover was regaling the students with drunkenly-told tales of his adventures. They were sharing a bottle of cheap wine at the table by his window—no other activities until they heard their heavy-sleepers of charges snoring the next room over.
“Not sure,” he shrugged. He looked out the window at the night sky, knowing that soon the view would change. “This place… it fits, you know?”
“For technically being here as a bodyguard, you sure are quite the pacifist,” she replied. Olvia took a sip of her drink and let out a low huff. “It’s honestly more interesting with you here.”
“Then maybe… I can come back…?”
“…to do what?” He turned his gaze to her and saw that her expression was now completely deadpan. “You’re smart, yes, but you’re no scholar. The Professor does not take too kindly to lightweights.”
“Is that what he refers to people who’ve had sex as?” he asked. She nearly choked on her drink. “I just want to be with you.”
“I know.” She saw a flicker of something cross his face, with it leaving as quickly as it came. “What…?”
“If I could just stay here, I would. Let the kids find their own way back home. It’s peaceful here… serene… like nothing bad will happen here.”
“Oh, it shall eventually,” she shrugged. “Things always happen.”
“Not like…” he paused, “not like what I’m used to with my father. There’s a certain unease in the air in a lot of places he’s sent me to, and none of it shows up here. Yeah, there’s people being petty and bad storms and the occasional drought of traders, but it’s not…” he sighed, “this place is calming, Olvia. There’s no real hostility.”
“Then maybe it would do you some good to return here,” she agreed. “Though I have to warn you: I get buried in my work when I’m not tutoring.”
“I think I can handle that; that might be when you’re the most gorgeous.”
“You don’t need to flatter me—you know what we’re doing later.”
“Doesn’t hurt to have a little extra insurance on the matter,” he winked. She giggled and leaned over, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “How much time do we have again?”
“Not enough.”
“Hmm… I think it’s enough.”
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
It’s easy to leave someone when you realize that you can’t stand one another. Sure, actually doing it might not be easy, but once you’re gone, the effort to purge them from your life is cathartic in its own way. It’s a refusal to give them power, as they never should have had any to begin with.
Conversely, it’s difficult to leave someone you’re still in love with, mostly because it is that much of a challenge to forget. It’s still wanting them there, despite their deep, deep flaws, and yet remembering the pain of why that is simply not possible. It hurts and claws at the heart, burning and stabbing until there is nothing that doesn’t make you think of them.
What’s worse yet is when you’re both still in love, and yet they don’t stop you.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Revolutionary Army Dispatch
Official Memo from the Desk of Founder and Supreme Commander Monkey D. Dragon
The following Legacy Bounty Individuals (LBI) are to be actively recruited into the ranks. Any contact with such Legacy Bounty Individuals needs to be reported to the appropriate level of hierarchy.
-_-_-
Karasu
Age at Bounty: 25
Current Age: 35
Origin: North Blue
Current Location: North Blue (confirmed)
Devil Fruit: unknown type – appears corvid-centric – proceed with caution until confirmation
Crimes: contempt of law; resisting arrest; repeated destruction of Marine bases; torture of varying Marine officers; coordinating largest mass-release of inmates in the North Blue in 200 years
-_-_-
Waters Lila
Age at Bounty: 47
Current Age: 57
Origin: South Blue
Current Location: Grand Line, Paradise (confirmed)
Devil Fruit: none known
Crimes: grand theft; destruction of slaver ships; being impossible to arrest; harboring runaway slaves; cussing out Celestial Dragons; repeated escape from Celestial Dragon “owners”
-_-_-
Nico Robin
Age at Bounty: 8
Current Age: 18
Origin: West Blue
Current Location: unknown; potentially West Blue or Grand Line
Devil Fruit: Paramecia – can replicate limbs elsewhere
Crimes: only surviving member of the Archaeological Scholarly Association of Ohara; can read Poneglyphs; evading arrest; varying smaller crimes related to survival
HIGH PRIORITY – report directly to Supreme Commander if contact is made – capable of becoming the Light of the Revolution
-_-_-
May we stay strong in the face of our uncertain times.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Ten years.
It took ten years before Dragon heard any more solid news of Nico Robin. He had to hand it to her—she was a difficult woman to catch. Most of what he’d heard were whispers. A few people even saw her, but no one was able to get in a conversation long enough to convince her to join their ranks.
She was still alive, however. No matter what, Olvia’s daughter was still alive, and some days it was all he could do to be proud.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
“I have to say, sir, you sure do know how to pick them.”
Dragon was laying down on a camping cot, the tent he was currently occupying in the far-reaching backwaters of the East, the backdrop of a civilian uprising in the distance. Sabo and Belo Betty had insisted on helming this charge, which left him sulking back at camp with a cold compress over his eyes as he fought off an impending headache in the command tent.
“What do you mean, Ahiru?” He heard the young woman’s mechanical arm click and whir as it handled papers at the table.
“One of your High Priority LBIs just had war declared on the Government for her.”
“You know Sabo has been making over half that list for years now.”
“She’s been on the list for a long while,” she replied.
“Oh yeah? Who?”
“Nico Robin.”
Dragon sat up immediately, the compress falling to the ground. “What…? Who declared war for her?”
“The crew she’s with now,” the young woman said. She held out the newspaper as her boss stood and crossed the room. “A rookie crew from these waters, it seems.”
A small gasp left Dragon without him even realizing it: the Straw Hat Pirates.
Robin found Luffy.
His children found one another.
“…sir…?” He looked at her and saw the concern on her face. “Are you alright?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Just…” Ahiru gave a nod, avoiding eye contact. “It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.” Good—he did always appreciate her discretion.
He looked back at the newspaper in his hand and allowed himself a breath of relief. After everything, his children were still finding their family—finding each other—despite his own failings.
Maybe… maybe this was how things were supposed to go.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
The kids he was supposed to be babysitting were off with the old man on the first of many “field trips” to the bar when he first made his move. She was in his room going over their academic progress when he allowed his hand to reach across the table and rest atop hers. One of her eyebrows arched, curious.
“Bold,” she noted with a smirk, “but is it bold enough?”
In retrospect, it had been a miracle in of itself that they had gotten themselves put back together in time for her skunk-drunk boss to bring back his equally-drunk charges. The trio were so drunk, they found, that they completely ignored the fact they still smelled of sex and her blouse was on inside-out.
What they didn’t know wasn’t going to hurt them, right? Besides, all it took was twenty minutes and they smelled like the kids’ vomit instead.
None of this was going into the report.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
There were times where Emporio Ivankov, Ruler of Kamabakka Queendom, Founder of the Revolutionary Army, Establishing Force behind New Kama Land, really did not enjoy dealing with their varying colleagues. Out of them all, the best—also the worst—was Monkey D. Dragon. He wasn’t even all that easy on the eyes, and yet his drama was nothing they wanted to ever touch.
Except, it kept finding them.
“You. Office. Now.”
They didn’t even break stride as they entered headquarters for the first time in years, simply walking by Dragon as he was discussing something with Lindbergh and Hack. Inazuma seamlessly inserted herself into the situation instead, allowing Dragon to grouchily follow Ivankov to their office looking extremely cowed. Newer recruits could only gawk—so this was the power of the legendary Okama Commander?
“Any ozer spawn you have running around I should know about?!” Ivankov hissed. Fuck… the door was barely closed…
“Iva…”
“Don’t you Iva me,” they scolded. “I should not learn you have a son because I am savingk his life in Impel Down! Vhat is viz you?!”
“Thank you, by the way,” Dragon said. “You did an excellent job keeping Luffy alive.”
“You tell me to not pry into your past, and yet your past keeps poppingk up in ze oddest places. Vhy are you like zis?!”
“We all agreed to bring as little of our baggage into this job as possible,” he claimed.
“Havingk people ve care about is not baggage!” they argued. “Sharingk stories about our lives is not baggage!”
“If anyone knew about my family, that’d put a target on their backs they might not want!”
“Even from your friends and comrades?!”
“Yes, Iva! Everyone!”
“Tch… no vonder you vere never told about the girl…”
“Iva!”
“Zese are your secrets, Dragon! First, you have a daughter from an old flame, now zis boy one of my candies finds in Impel Down is your son?! Vhat more is zere?!”
“You know I can’t tell you that!”
“Then vhat can you tell me?!”
“That as the figurehead of this entire operation, I can’t be seen as having any potential weaknesses! I come in with nothing so I can leave nothing behind! There is nothing to complicate things! A venture was never compromised because they kidnapped my son and held him at ransom! By him remaining far away, we all were safe.”
Ivankov huffed, their scowl pointed and accusatory. “I believe in zis, and I believe in you, so you better not make me regret anyzingk from here on out. Ve cannot afford to be fightingk.”
“I’m trying, Iva,” Dragon assured. “You know that’s all any of us can do.”
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
“Sir…? The Tequila Wolf contingent has returned.”
Dragon glanced up from his coffee to see the fresh recruit standing there in the doorway of his office, absolutely quaking in his boots. It was almost adorable how the newbies were so easily categorized into either Hilariously Overzealous or Scared Shitless, with this one solidly in the latter category.
“Usually the leaders of such an expedition report to me themselves that they’re back,” Dragon noted. “Why did they send you?”
“There’s a bit of a commotion, sir,” the recruit admitted. “They were able to find a High Priority LBI while freeing the slaves.”
“Now who would that be?”
“Uh… Nico Robin of the Straw Hat Pirates, sir.”
Dragon’s stomach found his throat as he paused, taking the information in. After vanishing into nothingness on Sabaody, she was now there, in Baltigo. Ten long years and she was finally there, in the same building as him; it was terrifying to think of.
“Send her up once she’s been given the orientation,” he requested, keeping his stoic mask. “High Priorities always need a briefing from me personally as to discuss what they might bring to our cause.” It was the truth and the recruit saluted before leaving.
The wait was honestly one of the worst stretches of time in his life. Dragon wasn’t entirely certain whether was pacing for a few minutes or a few hours, but eventually there was a knock at the door and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He breathed deeply and collected himself.
“Come in.”
Olvia’s ghost walked in, almost as though no time had passed at all.
“Please close the door; I’d prefer this conversation to be private.”
“Since you asked nicely,” she nodded. Robin gently shut the door and took a few steps into the room, unsure if she should sit or remain standing like Dragon. “I hear you often debrief new additions and allies yourself. It’s commendable to be so active in the base of your organization.”
“I cannot do it on my own,” he claimed. She watched him as he walked over to the window, using it as an excuse to not look at her directly. “Does this mean you are going to join my ranks?”
“Consider me a loan of sorts,” she chuckled. “I have some time to burn while waiting to reunite with my crew and I might as well do something worth while in the meantime.” He could see her reflection in the glass; it was scary how much she looked like her mother. “Your son is something of a tricky individual to follow; it’s just a matter of chance that I’m keeping my alliances in the family.”
Oh, how little she knew despite how well she was informed.
“Has… anyone ever told you why we founded the Revolutionary Army?”
“…to rise up against the tyranny of the World Government,” she replied. He was silent. “Then again, something tells me that there’s more to it than that. There always is.” She watched him, pensive. “What was the final straw that drove you? A scuffle with the Marine Hero?”
“He barely cares about what he does on a daily basis, let alone care what I do enough to get into that big of a fight… no.” He did not turn around, instead preferring to look out the window. “It was Ohara.”
It was slight, but he heard her inhale slightly.
“What was your connection to Ohara?” Robin asked, her voice wavering slightly.
“I spent a lot of time there when I was younger than you are now,” he admitted. He sighed, then opened his mouth to talk again, only for Robin to grab his arm and turn him around to face her, eyes wild in shock.
“Did you know my mother?!”
“I… I fell in love with your mother.”
She let go of his arm and took a step back. “…oh. That must have been difficult.”
“It was,” he agreed. “Olvia was a wonderful woman. Sharp-witted, dedicated, kind, insurmountably intelligent…” He smiled to himself, letting his gaze slip out of focus towards a bit of wall. “She had hair like starlight and eyes that would reflect the galaxies.”
“Did she ever…?” Her question trailed off, unsure if she wanted to give life to the words herself.
“Your mother’s true love was knowledge, and by extension, her research. She had no room for me, so I left.”
She scoffed at that, almost relieved. “What do you have to be sorry about? It happened a long time ago.”
“Summer 1493, if you want to be precise about it.”
The only sound was the steady ticking of the clock on the mantle. Dragon focused his eyes again and looked at Robin, seeing the careful, calculating face he’d last seen over twenty-five years ago. She eventually nodded—everything fit.
“You didn’t know, did you?”
“I didn’t, though I don’t know how much good I would have been had I known and stayed.”
“You would have been there.”
“You’ve met my father—do you think I would have let him raise Luffy if I didn’t think it was the better choice?”
“That is true…” She looked him in the eyes, as though she was trying to see where the crack in the lie was. “What brought you to Ohara in the first place?”
“Initially? Babysitting. When all was said and done, it pissed off my father that I was in love, so I went back.”
“Then it is not just him that Luffy gets his defiance streak from,” she noted.
“I’m the one running a Revolution and you thought he got that from my father?”
“Merely an observation.” She smiled lightly at him, an expression so her mother that it nearly made him hug her. “Now, I think we have some negotiating involving the terms of my stay?”
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Babysitting was a drag.
According to Aunt Tsuru, his dad owed the Queen of Alabasta a favor or eight and now it was Dragon’s turn to fulfill a request, as it involved the prince and his footman and not the old broad herself.
“We’re almost there!” the fifteen-year-old prince beamed. He turned towards his servant with a wide grin across his face. “Can you imagine?! That tree is thousands of years old! It doesn’t even have the Alabastian climate to help preserve it! Something that old! Still alive!”
“It truly is something, milord,” the young servant agreed. Igaram…? Yeah, Igaram and Prince Cobra. They were almost the exact same age and yet the difference between them was vast. Even though the princeling wasn’t an asshole about it, there was still that chasm Dragon knew was there… even if it was the footman that kept it there.
“Go pack up your shit,” Dragon said. “We’re going to be living on the island while we’re here, so you can’t leave shit onboard where it can be stolen.”
“Gotcha!” Cobra dashed below deck of the small clinker-built cog, Igaram close behind him insisting on doing it for him. Dragon rolled his eyes—this was honestly the last thing he wanted to be doing, but his father was… persuasive.
With his fists. The Hero of the Marines beat his son in a fistfight. Fuck.
It took another half an hour to get into the harbor at Ohara. It was a lively town, with the Tree of Knowledge dominating the landscape. Since he was contracted to be the teens’ bodyguard, Dragon went with Prince Cobra and Igaram as they went to the massive library that was carved into the tree itself, the entire building a living testament to knowledge.
“Ah, there you are.” Dragon saw a middle-aged man approach them as they entered the trunk. “Prince Cobra, I presume?”
“Yes; you must be Professor Clover?”
“That I am!” Dragon fought back rolling his eyes—everyone here was a nerd. “Queen Ouraeus told me you are almost as thirsty for knowledge as myself.”
“Indeed,” Cobra confirmed. “I have to be knowledgeable to become a great king one day, and Mother said you were one of the cleverest and learned men she’s ever met. It will be an honor to learn under you.”
“In that regard, I have to apologize,” Clover said. “Most of your tutoring will be conducted by one of my top pupils, who shall report to me on your progress. I’ve already written your mother and she has given her permission.”
“It must be difficult running this place,” Igaram noted, still staring at the interworkings of the library as they milled about.
“It is, unfortunately,” Clover sighed. “My apologies; you must be young Mister Igaram, which makes you…”
“Dragon—their babysitter.”
“Bodyguard,” the prince corrected. “He comes highly recommended from several high-ranking Marines as trustworthy.”
“Do you now…?”
“The Marine’s my old man, who can fuck off for all I care.” There was something about this Clover man that made him seem guarded… something wasn’t entirely legit. “I think he’s hoping his wayward son straightens himself out on this mission or some shit like that.”
“Then I’m sure we’ll get on splendidly,” Clover nodded. He then waved someone over, who gathered her books from the desk and approached them. “This is the one who is going to teach you lads.”
“Oh… I can’t…!” Igaram panicked. “I’m just here so His Highness…!”
“Nonsense—the Queen requested both of you be tutored,” Clover insisted. “This is Olvia-san. She is one of the most brilliant minds on this island and a native of Ohara. I leave your education in her care.”
Dragon swallowed hard—the young woman who walked up to them was one of the most gorgeous people he’d ever seen. Her brown eyes were the color of warm, lacquered wood and her platinum-blonde hair almost seemed to shimmer against her sun-bronzed skin.
“It is a pleasure to welcome the Alabastian delegation to our humble halls,” she said sweetly. Clover noticed that all three newcomers seemed overcome by her presence, which gave him an idea.
“How about if I take our newest young scholars on a tour of the library?” he offered. “Olvia, you can discuss the accommodations with their bodyguard. We can do the initial assessment after lunch.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” she agreed. Clover took the two teens with him and went off into the library, while Dragon stood awkwardly next to Olvia. “Would you like to see where you and your prince shall be staying?”
“He’s not my prince,” Dragon blurted out. “I mean… uh… my dad owes his mom some favors. It’s… complicated.”
“That must be awkward.”
“A little, but…” he shrugged, “you know.”
She gave a slight chuckle at that, the corner of her mouth tugging up in a smile. “Let me show you to the dorms.”
He nodded—what else could he do?
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
It was difficult having Robin around, all things considered. Although she fit in amongst the other Revolutionaries with wonderful ease, there was still the fact that Dragon could not look at her without feeling a pang of regret. He hated the feeling, but did not avoid her. It was difficult, yet he knew that bringing her into the organization after such a long effort only to ignore her would be suspicious… too suspicious for him to counter. He instead kept on, as though the woman was not the mirror image of his long-lost love. Hers was not the face he waged this war over, nor was it the one that would lob the final volley.
Their venture had grown much larger than Olvia’s memory, and yet to have her daughter in their midst? However temporary? It was priceless.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
The rest of the day went by in a whirl. Cobra and Igaram were going to share a room during their yearlong academic retreat, with Dragon getting an adjoining one to himself. He followed along as Olvia showed him around the tree’s internal chambers—where she would be tutoring the teens to where the kitchens were—and it was extremely difficult to keep his mind on her words and not drift off into a daydream.
Seas, she was pretty.
“It looks like Professor Clover is only partway done with his tour,” she noted as they stopped on a staircase. They could see the academic with the teens as they scoured some shelves, looking for a specific book. “They’re good kids, it seems.”
“Yeah, they are as good as fifteen-year-olds are going to be, anyhow,” he shrugged. “It’s still going to be a pain in the ass.”
“So your contract is to stay here for the duration of their tutoring?”
“Yeah, I’ve got to bring them back to Alabasta myself, so I can’t just ditch them here and be done with it. That’s not going to be fun.”
“Well,” Olvia chuckled, “if you ever need anything, let me know. I’m sure I can help out.”
He hesitated before deciding to fuck it.
“Actually, I’d, erm, like to get to know you better, please. Outside of the kids.”
“…and why’s that?”
“…because one day, someone is going to ask me who that woman is teaching my charges, and I’d like to be able to say more than the pretty one with the books.”
She smiled knowingly. “Nico Olvia; nice to meet you.”
“Monkey D. Dragon; the pleasure is mine.”
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
“Her name is Nico Robin, sire.”
“Nico…? That is a name from the past, indeed.” Cobra frowned as he looked at the photograph of the woman who was reportedly conducting business on the behalf of Baroque Works. It was late at night after everyone else was in bed as he sat up in his chambers, one of the few times he could truly talk freely with his captain of the guard. “She looks enough like her, if my memory serves me right.”
“I’m surprised I remember anything about that trip at all,” Igaram groused. “Even the smell of beer is ruined.”
Cobra chuckled at that; few things made him laugh these days, and much of it involved the past. Seas… that had been before he had even met Titi…
“Possibly,” Igaram continued, “if we appeal to her on the shared admiration of her mother, we might be able to get her to cooperate.”
“No,” the king said firmly. “If she goes by her mother’s family name, then she is likely a sensitive subject. We cannot let it be suggested that we ever knew her.” He placed the photo down on his writing desk and exhaled heavily. “That was thirty years ago… and where were we when she was thrown to the wolves as a child?”
“Burying your lady mother and readying for your marriage, not to mention the chaos that a monarch change involves.”
“…which is why I wish to slowly abdicate, to give Vivi a better transition than what I had… if we even make it that long.”
“It is a fine goal, sire,” Igaram agreed. He watched his monarch—his life-long friend—stare into the middle distance, clearly wrapped up in thought. “Is there anything else you require tonight, milord?”
“No, thank you. You may go now, Igaram.”
“As you wish, milord.” He bowed deeply. “For the good of Alabasta.”
Igaram quietly left the king’s chambers, finding that the young princess was waiting for him out in the corridor. She was such a haunting image of the late queen that it was terrifying…
…but this was a child, even if some would mistake her for being grown.
“Is she the same one that you remember?” she asked, voice quiet. He shook his head.
“Even if she was, we would have no basis on which to build a parley. We are to function as though the name is a coincidence.”
Vivi nodded slowly, considering her options. “Then I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to infiltrate Baroque Works.”
“…but Princess…”
“I can’t sit by and do nothing, Igaram. That’s not what a monarch is supposed to do. I’m here to serve the people, right? That’s not always about fancy trips to the Levely and hosting other nobles.”
“You are correct way too often for my blood pressure’s liking, milady,” he sighed, accepting their fates. “When do you wish to leave?”
“Tonight.”
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
“Dragon-san…?” He glanced over from the map and saw Cobra standing there, the kid only growing into something more awkward by the day. “How did you know you were in love with Nico-sensei?”
“I just kind of did,” he grunted. They were a full day out from Ohara, sailing back towards the entrance to the Grand Line. “Why? Someone there catch your fancy?”
“No… it’s just…” the teen worried his bottom lip with his teeth. “I’ve been taught plenty this past year, but watching you and Nico-sensei reminded me that I still don’t know what it will be like when I love someone. I imagine it’s… difficult.”
“It is,” Dragon admitted, “but sometimes it just finds you. At first it’s a like—or maybe they’re just smoking hot—and eventually you just find yourself realizing that the world isn’t quite the same without them in it.”
“…but that’s how I feel about my friends… my mother… my people…”
“Love comes in a lot of versions, kid,” Dragon shrugged. “You’re pretty observant to be a noble and understand that you should love your people—something tells me you won’t have a problem figuring out the romantic part when it comes.”
“You sure…?”
“Yeah.” He then jerked his head towards the rigging. “Get your asses up there and secure the topsail; we’re going through a real windy area soon.”
At least as the kids were up in the rigging, he’d have some quiet.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
“Are you sure that going back is what you wish?” Dragon asked. Robin was chuckling softly as Koala sobbed in her arms, not wanting the other woman to leave. “You could do a lot of good here…”
“I will do a lot of good anywhere I go,” she claimed… and rightfully so. “My place is with Luffy. He’s my captain and we’re not done yet.”
“Just don’t tell him that I’m still around; I’d rather do that myself,” Sabo chuckled.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
“So the kids… they’re doing well…?”
Olvia shrugged as she tied Cobra’s hair back as the teen slept—last thing they wanted was for the kid to wake up and get drunken vomit in his hair. She wasn’t entirely sure that getting a sovereign prince blackout-wasted-drunk every weekend was setting a good example, but Professor Clover was not one to be argued with when several pints were on the table.
“Well enough,” she replied. She glanced over at Dragon, who was peeling an ale-soaked jacket off Igaram, and shrugged. He would know if he had the ability to sit in place while the teens were at their studies, yet school hours were often when he went wandering around Ohara, taking in the local sights. “Unless there’s a sudden breakthrough, I think there’s one thing that they won’t be able to do, but it won’t be horrible in the long-run.”
“So not something Her Highness requested?”
“Oh, she requested it, but it’s notoriously difficult. People of all ages attempt to learn and some never get it, no matter how long they try.”
“What’s that? Some sort of arcane science?”
“Reading.”
He paused, watching her as she finished putting Cobra to bed. “You’re talking about a prince and his nursemaid’s son—they’ve long been able to read.”
“Do you promise?” she asked.
“Promise what…?”
“Do you promise?” Olvia went to his side and held out her hand. Dragon looked at it, then up into her eyes, before placing his hand in hers.
“I promise,” he replied. “Better yet: I trust you.”
With a nod, Olvia helped Dragon finish with Igaram before taking his hand again and leading him out into the corridor. They went through the labyrinthine maze of staircases until they reached one that had no light down it, only darkness.
“The fragile manuscript storage room?” he wondered. She shook her head before taking the handrail and carefully stepping down into the dark.
“You know how we here in Ohara strive to uncover the secrets of the world through our research,” she explained, not waiting for him to follow. He did, which made her smile in the dark. “If your father came here and asked what sort of research we were doing, we could honestly tell him that much of it involves ruins and old tomes, surviving fragments from over the centuries. It is different from Vegapunk’s research, yet it is no different in our dedication or the danger that follows.”
“Vegapunk is being courted by the Government,” he reminded her.
“True, yet this… this is something we’re been hiding for much, much longer, and the knowledge from which we glean from this will benefit everyone, from us to Vegapunk to the young prince and everyone who wishes for the truth.”
“Olvia, what are you…?” He felt her stop in front of him and heard a heavy latch open.
“Welcome, Dragon, to the Poneglyph Chamber.”
The light from inside the room was bright as Olvia opened the door and ushered Dragon in. Once his eyes adjusted, he gasped at the sight of the giant stone in front of him, scholars all around as they went about their duties. Some stared at them as they made their way across the room, but most remained unfazed.
“You… you are teaching them to read this…?”
“Attempting; there is one in Alabasta, a rubbing of which Queen Ouraeus provided us in her youth. The secret history lies in these markings, and if we are to understand the Void Century, then we must first understand these Poneglyphs.”
“…but he’s not getting it.”
“No; I would be impressed if he ever did, if we’re being honest. His language skills lie where he’s able to understand the practical applications. Although this limits him to things such as Alabastian and Celestial and sailors’ creoles, it means that academic languages are unfortunately beyond his grasp.” She watched as he placed his hand on the Poneglyph, taking it all in. “There is nothing else in the world like it, is there?”
“Dad’s bosses would have a field day with this,” Dragon marveled. He looked at Olvia, seeing that her face was concerned and distant. “That’s your true goal here, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“That’s wonderful,” he replied. “It’s never sat well with me that there’s so much we don’t know, and the fact you’re doing it here? Sticking it to Dad and his bosses and their bosses? It’s like a military brat’s dream come true.”
Olvia nodded at that, too choked up to respond properly. Something deep inside her said she was doing the right thing by showing him their biggest secret, and the sparkle in his eyes made her heart swell.
He was going to be the one to do it.
He was going to be the one to make all their research worth it.
All they needed to do now was wait.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
It was a beautiful day as the Thousand Sunny sailed towards their next destination. With Fish-man Island the the Ryugyu Kingdom behind them, the crew’s spirits were high as they enjoyed their time together.
“Hey, Robin, do you want to play with us?” Luffy asked. She glanced up from her book and saw her captain standing rather close, with Usopp in the background attempting to ride on Chopper’s full-reindeer form as though his back was a furry surfboard. “It’s a lot of fun!”
“I’ll pass for now, but thank you,” she replied. Luffy didn’t go away, the teen instead tilting his head at her. “Yes…?”
“Something’s different about you,” he noted. “It’s not bad. Just… different.”
“We’re all different than how we were before,” she reminded him.
“I know.”
“…but there’s something else…?”
“Yeah.” Luffy went and threw his arms around Robin’s neck in a hug. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“I’m glad too,” she replied, patting his back. “I think you might want to get back to the others—Usopp seems like he’s getting rather good at that.”
“Oh! Hey! Usopp! Let me have a go!” Luffy was sufficiently distracted enough to run off and tackle the sniper right off the doctor’s back, all three of the teens laughing.
‘Maybe, we both always had an idea as to the truth,’ she thought as she watched her youngest crewmates roughhouse. They ran around silly until Sanji came out of the kitchen with snacks and drinks, snatching their attention. ‘The little brother I always wanted was right here after all.’
#Monkey D. Dragon#Nico Olvia#Nico Robin#Emporio Ivankov#Professor Clover#One Piece#fan fiction#this is complete crackfic that I expect to be disproven#but again: let's torture characters by making them related#but this time give Olvia and Dragon both some character development#it makes more sense than some stuff I've seen#and down here bc they're kind of spoilers I guess#Nefertari Cobra#Igaram (One Piece)#what is linear storytelling#this is a fcking mess but idc
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mundane lil family rant for this morning 👌
[[MORE]]
over the summer i had been going over to my family’s/moms house pretty frequently, at least 2-3x a week and weekends to spend time with my mom and make sure everything was okay.
the week of my (and my brothers) birthday, everyone in the house got covid — so we had to cancel our family birthday dinner (it was really casual but we try to do it every year) and i also found out i would be traveling to oregon (and later texas) for work. so i wasn’t able to see my family before that bc they were sick
so then i got back and went over the next day and saw my mom and everything was good!! we caught up and she seemed to be doing pretty well
but then the school year started back up and my current schedule is really split up (with mornings 5:30-8:30 and afternoons 3:30 - whenever the last kid gets picked up until 7 pm lol) — and i have space in between but my mom doesn’t wake up until 2-3 pm most days so going over then would be pointless, and going over past 7 pm would be pointless bc i have to be back here by ~9 to feel like i have any chance of getting to sleep to wake up on time lol
ANYWAY wow so these last two weeks i’ve been texting and calling just to check in, and also calling after work bc if i am going to stop by i want to make sure she’s there/awake/okay
but !
im currently being ghosted by her and she’s not answering my calls and i reached out to my sister bc i was getting worried and apparently she talked to her on the phone yesterday 🫠 so it’s me 🫠🫠 and it’s gotten to the point where now it’s saturday and i can go over but i feel anxious and awkward (and honestly my feelings are hurt???) bc i don’t just want to show up at a place where i am unwanted
but then i think, colleen u are an adult and this is not a child/mother relationship and you also have to see it rationally that your mom is not well and processes thoughts and feelings differently rn bc of her brain deteriorating. i’ve seen it in action that when she decides she is against someone, even for the slightest reason, that’s it — they can’t do anything right and it’s completely black and white in her head. i’ve just never been so outwardly the person in question and it hurts lol
and i think if that is the case, it’s bc there was an issue last week with money accidentally being taken out of her account instead of mine for our phone bill — and im frustrated if that’s it because 1) i immediately sent her the money back and an extra amount for the confusion and 2) ive been paying her 3rd of the bill for the last 3 years bc she isn’t able to, and now money is more of a stressor for me and i’ve asked her to pay when she is able and it has been ignored each time so im paying double and im not always in the position to do that 👹 so the resentment there is …. definitely not hiding lol and i know it but i’ve been doing it bc i know at the end of the day im still in a more stable position financially and will not regret helping her in these ways in the long term, it’s just in the short term sometimes i feel taken advantage of (also to clarify, the phone situation was all communicated through my sister whom she is talking to lol because she was at the house right then — no direct communication through my mom despite sending her the money/asking if she was upset abt it ☠️)
idk this is all a convoluted way of saying im upset that my family still has so much power to hurt my feelings like a child lol
and im also laughing bc she posted this on fb during this whole thing (so i also know health wise, she’s at least somewhat fine bc she’s active on there)
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c1x9 little girl lost
sdkjfasjkld second last episode, this season was kind of short.
Oh so THAT'S what a bear claw it. My family was arguing about bear paws, white claws, monster energy, funnel cakes, elephant ears, beavertails, crepes, croissants, donuts, deep fried croissants that ARE donuts, pate a choux donuts which I think are called cruellers, danishes, & we just didn't know what a bear claw was.
*shoves it in his mouth*
Castle is right
"only because it's about me"
She's not naked. She's holding a gun... strategically.
Yeah she is in homicide...
RM: 'Cause I like pissing off the FBI. And because you think outside the box. That's something the Feebs rarely do.
Oh an ex?
RC: Actually, I'm not. Who's Sorenson?
Square jaw on this man.
Castle just there
RC: Writer of wrongs.
Ah yes, kids raised on TV. I mean you might need a few minutes & the TV is a fine babysitter but babe u should have your earbuds OUT.
I just noticed, there was no intro. ig bc there was no murder.
I like how this is a child abduction case not just a murder.
True, most abductions are from someone u know or someone related.
KB: Yeah, I know. You were not asking very loudly.
I remember the mirror scene in s2.
Ryan with his castle book lol.
& she pats him on the shoulder & he's on the phone.
KR: *just talking abt the case*
*they all turn to face each other at the desks*
RC, physically taken aback: Whoa!!!!!!!!!!!!
*espt looks at him sharply, beckett simply watches*
RC: Sorry. Sorry about that. That tie took me a little by surprise.
*esposito & beckett laugh*
KR: Okay. Get it all out. This is a gift from my girlfriend.
JE: "Girlfriend"?
KB: Already giving gifts, huh?
KR: Today's our two-week anniversary.
All three: Ooooooooh
JE: Two weeks! Is that the paper or the silk?
RC: I believe it's the whipped.
JE: Good one.
KR: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Ok uh spoilers for s4 but gyrating jenny? I said two weeks is like maybe one or two dates worth of knowing each other. Mum said no it could be that they went on a date every night & if you only dated once a week it would be comparatively three months of dating. Which ok a quarter year can be a celebration. BUT here's the thing, right now they were I think dating several people each. "I went on a date with her, I went on a date with her, I went on a date with Jenny, I went on a date with him, I went on another date with Jenny, hmm I've given this gal two casual dates maybe it's time we start an actual item." But then why would u get a fortnightversary tie? Maybe bc after casually dating for two weeks u decided to get together properly & that was the gift? But I thought mike/jake was a month into their relationship... Ah well whatever, if they had a non-exclusive relationship (so ig an open relationship) for the first bit then good for them, it brings poly vibes to the relationship & boom fanfic fuel. Anyway ha here we go continuing on.
Maybe this is what gets ryan to start wearing ties more often. Btw I saw a fic recently where ryan said his gf got him the tie & esposito was mad bc "I don't mind being called ur gf but I am not taking the blame for that tie" actually it was a vignette per episode for the first season, 100 words each. P good.
"If you were having an affair, would your best friend know about it?" ok so espt didn't know ryan had a gal & it's been Two Weeks?
They afford a cleaning lady??? rly???
I hope the bio mom gets to stay in contact with the kid. native kids are disproportionately represented in the system & at least the parents seem to be native too. (Unless they're just (euro)spanish bc spanish ppl can get p dark, unlike my celtic & (not-too-far-east) slavic friends who are white af; & fake tans are in right now. Have you ever seen those quizzes where they cover a fellow's face & u have to guess whether she is black or has an aggressive tan? Yeah I thought the kardashians were black for ages before someone told me they were white. Like one time at a lake in the summer one of my neighbours had a tan but throughout the day at the beach he darkened up; I saw a black man out of the corner of my eye but when i did a double take it was my white neighbour. I was like woah u look more black than some of my black friends. anyways i'm kind of hoping that the adopted parents are native bc, well, icwa & all that)
Good voice change ig
But you need proof of life.
She has a very wide mouth
WS: It's not about what you say. It's about controlling the situation. Controlling the emotions.
He is not wrong
RC: Must be fate.
Weird breakroom shots here. Where are they...?
Good for him, painting during stress is a good way to cope.
Guy lost his kids? Yeah I can see this
At least rick settles the argument for them, going to observe instead
XD castle
KB: Mr. Ellers, Detective Kate Beckett. NYPD.
WS: Special Agent Sorenson, FBI.
JE: *looks meaningfully at ryan but my social skills aren't as good as maybe they should be so idk what it means*
The spinny spin is not too much but... it is a bit nauseating... just a bit
Castle they need to check either way.
WS: A couple dozen best-sellers doesn't make you a criminologist.
RC: I also don't need a weatherman to tell me that the sky is blue.
(we watched this when the sky was orange from smoke & now I'm watching it right after the sky was green from smoke & refraction)
KB: Oh, for godsakes, why don't you both just drop your pants and get it over with?
RC: I'm ga...me.
Point for the castle queer headcanons
(Makes me wonder why beckett didn't say that to rysposito during the dirty dozen names for suspects battle. I read a fanfic abt that the other day. Actually I think it was the same vignette-per-episode fic I mentioned earlier.)
Well that was nice, I wasn't able to start my castle binge watch very early bc mum had an online interview, then she left for an ultrasound, (I started my castle watch) & then she came back home for lunch & we started a puzzle together. It was very nice. Now she's off to work & I already did some chores while she was home so I'm free to finish castle s1, possibly plus commentary versions!
Castle being good for once. He KNOWS she needs him to go home & he wants to argue but he checks first & then finds out he needs to give her space, but then he still tells her to call him if she needs.
MR, leaning back in rick's office chair: I mean the source of your power. *raises hands* The source of your power, Todd, is you.
*She points to him with both hands*
At least rick is somewhat playing along lol
Oh i see the weird little dog thing
I love her 'isms.
RC: How is it that you don't know who my father is, you don't know how your ex-husband stole all your money, yet you are giving life-coaching advice?
Freud was not the father of psychology he was the senile grandfather
Rick goes to hug alexis not martha lmao
*spins her around all full of fatherly love*
Poached eggs are not my fave to make diner style XP
Over-easy XD
Oh fun fact technically there is a difference between over-easy & over soft. Over easy is: sunny side up; flip, one two, off. Over soft is when you flip the egg & wait for it to get to the soft stage; over medium is when the yolk is somewhat set, & over hard is when the yolk is completely set. Most people don't actually distinguish it tho.
btw beckett outfit update: weird jackett. it's nice it just has some stuff going on. typical detective coat.
He's kind of sweet here. I feel bad for beckett, she liked him but he had to keep moving & this seems like it happens her her, well, more than rarely. Will had to leave, Tom she broke up with, Josh had to leave but then returned then she broke up with him...
RC: Oh! I thought cops and Feds hated each other.
RC: They say justice never sleeps. I think I know why.
KB: We were just, uh...
RC: Being consenting adults. I'm not judging.
RC: I did go home, but then my mother told me something that couldn't wait.
WS, thinking he lives with his mom, not that his mom lives with him: You live with your mother?
RC: Yeah. Apparently, we're peas in a pod. But the important point is, Angela's adopted.
Yeah! Most abductions are from someone the kid knows.
RC: Is that supposed to be an insult? Because Nancy Drew solved every case.
Hm, Gomez is a spanish sounding last name, the kid looks latine, but lucia looks way less native than I thought.
Love how she proves it by pulling out her driver's license
Oh juan is def a spanish name.
Love how ryspocastle just drives up out of nowhere.
Yep boy could be native, but again, could also be tanned & spanish. Their kid tho, angela looks way more native than either of them
The most real guy on the show: Look, in my neighborhood, when you see a cop - that's what you do.
KR: ach Can you believe this? He details cars for a living. He could have a little more pride in his ride. *envelopes fall from the visor when he wipes it; he holds his arms up slightly*
Wow it IS a pissing match.
he was 18? she said she was a junior? idk what USA stuff is. k she would have been 16 turning 17. that fits with half plus seven we good. Tho the legal ability does create a power differential. Then again, my first relationship was technically outside the half plus seven rule until my birthday
Poor kid. He's so young.
Support our troop: Bring Them Home.
Oof kid was already dead...
I've seen this episode before but in my head it is TWO different episodes
Was the canvas strong enough to break the vase?
I am so glad for captions
civillian, not parent
Why is the kid's voice not distorted?
Hire mercs?
Castle <3 cop privilege, non-cop privilege. Halfsies. Castle nonebiney moments.
*pats herself with the rabbit*
lol cold hands.
Beckett: it's for nikki heat
you're a homicide detective, you KNOW that ppl get coined for murder if they make death threats.
KB: We don't have to read you, we can see you. Now shut up and focus.
Lol castle & his spy jargon
Fan as in book fan or as in u see her crush?
Ah book fan
Oh he's such a flirt.
LMAO CASTLE
I like their cell phones rn, & soon they end up with touchscreen phones & it's so modern instead of being nostalgic.
I'm too dumb for that. Cross the street which way?
"correct"
Me: knowing how it works
The ppl walking around: none have the "art instillation" yet
& then there was ONE guy & now there are A Hundred.
Why don't they look into buying records of the backpacks? Who bought two dozen backpacks for an art thing?
Me: knowing what happens
The mom: looks upset
Love rain. & that's a cool boat. Rick castle maximalist moments.
AC: What did Beckett tell you about taking phone photos at the crime scene?
RC: I don't know, I wasn't listening.
you can get repairs done on stuffies yk...
Or maybe angela took the bunny with her just cuz
See? it IS mostly from ppl who know them.
baby so chill getting picked up by a stranger
Beckett <3
I speak enough french to know that he said mi coeurason (idk how to spell) & it means "my heart" I think. Is it that hard to write it into the captions?
Mom could be in shock
(except I know)
Mom could at least fake it to pretend she's happy the kid is back.
Does the husband want to be here for this?
I understand where she is coming from ig...
Yeah he should not have had the music loud, I really can understand where she is coming from... & tbh that was a good idea if it worked...
like bro this is so sad
Beckett's hair is slowly getting longer, I don't mind it, it's nice.
RC: Yeah, he's like the male you. Ying needs Yang, not another Ying. Ying-Yang is harmony, but Ying-Ying is... a name for a panda.
KB: That's why it's called "private life." Because it's private. Unlike you, I don't live my life on Page Six.
k so beckett has a desk & then there is another desk on the other side of hers & it has a computer so obv it's SOMEONE's desk, but whose?
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Falling Angels
A/n this literally poureddd from me, might be bad bc recently i’ve hated everything i’ve written (my drafts are full lol)
--
Series Summary: Y/n is a rising star in the most famous circus in Ketterdam because of her ability to see the future. Unfortunately for her, Kaz Brekker knows more of her backstory than he should, and he’s willing to use that to his advantage. The one thing he’s not betting on? That he doesn’t know her entire story
Chapter summary: Y/n gets a visitor before getting tricked into the most dangerous show of her life.
Pairing: SOC x reader, Kaz Brekker x psychic! sunshine-y! reader
Warning: mentions of sexual harassment, slight cursing, near death experience
--
Enjoy it, because it doesn’t last. That’s what the older girls whisper, mock casualness attempting to disguise bitter undertones as I walk past them. They say this, sharp nails ready to be covered in blood as red as their lipstick, because the pile of gifts from my ‘admirers’ keep coming. Circus hands keep approaching the long vanity in the dressing room tent, tapping me on the shoulder politely to shove cards and bouquets of flowers in my lap. They don’t understand that the praise isn’t because the patrons of our performances find me more beautiful--they’re desperate for my favor. They’re desperate to know their future.
Looking at myself in the mirror, the pageantry of it all has not yet grown old to me. My hair is still in the process of being styled, my stage makeup is half done, and I am not yet coated in that golden shimmer Senia always dusts across my cheeks and shoulders. But I am more enhanced than I normally am, eyes made bright by thick coats of mascara, cupid's bow made prominent by ruby lipstick. The lip look is more daring than I’ve been before, but there can’t be much harm in change. Not when half the women here keep looking at me like I’m the saint of virginity.
It’s not my fault that the Ringmaster thought an angelic aesthetic would work best for the fortune teller who walks around before the show, reading palms so that people can have their pockets picked. It’s not my fault people want an angel to take the stage and call people down from the audience to get a detailed reading around the crowded circus tent. I don’t pick the costumes, and while I acknowledge that mine shows the least amount of skin, the Ringmaster found a way to dress me as suggestively as possible without ruining the illusion of innocence.
At least the flowing tulle wings that are stitched into the back of my costume are beautiful. It’s easier when I enjoy the good.
“Y/n!” The familiar call of Senia. I turn my head, beaming. “You’re a vision, and all of those jealous girls--you can tell them to take their wrinkling faces and--”
“Seria.” For someone so much like a mother, she often needs to be reminded that not everything needs an aggressive rebuttal. “Think about it from their perspectives--their entire existence is dependent on how sellable they are, how attractive they are to men who only want to use them. If that makes them mad at me because they feel like my youth and novelty is taking from them, then that’s okay.” She raises a fine eyebrow. “I can take a few mean words.”
Seria purses her lips. “Okay, but I’m just as old and tired and you don’t see me trying to poison you.”
I roll my eyes.
“Look, it's our very own saint.” I roll my eyes, Via’s shrill voice piercing through me like an annoying papercut. “And in such a scandalous lip color--has the Ringmaster finally taken you to the ivory tent?”
Ivory tent. It’s been mentioned to me before and always in jest. “Where he takes me is none of your business, if not being the favorite hurts you so badly ju--”
She laughs, the sound is pure vile. “Being the favorite is the worst thing you could be in a place like this. You’re shiny and new and soon you’ll be as used as the rest of us--Seria’s use is waning, what happened to her today is proof of that. Soon you’ll have no one to protect you.”
When she looks at me I see more pain than hatred. “I think we’d get along better if I had it in me to hate you.”
She raises an eyebrow before shaking a cigarette from a small box into her palm. “You’ll get there, princess.”
The nickname leaves me burning. There’s nothing more consuming than fire. “You better pray to the real Saints I don’t.”
via laughs, lifting the cigarette to her lips and lighting it with her abilities. She walks away, turning my threat into that of a child’s.
“She’s right on two accounts.” Seria hums, “The Ringmaster will kill you if you wear that lipstick and Ketterdam turns people like you into people like me. We could save up, pay off your indenture--get you out.”
Seria doesn’t need to make sacrifices like that. Not for me. Besides, there’s no leaving Ketterdam for me. Not anymore. “Being like you wouldn’t be a bad thing.” I scratch my arm, see through material wrinkling as a result. “And I can’t--I can’t just leave. I’m a psychic, no Grisha can see the future. I need the facelessness of Ketterdam.” Her lips thin in protest. “And don’t think I didn’t hear what she said about you--what happened to your foot, and what’s in the ivory tent? People keep saying it, whispering it like there’s--”
“That tent is nothing that will ever concern you. I’ve given you my guidance, and the one thing I ask is that you never ask or go to the ivory tent.”
I swallow once, the intensity in her eyes leaving me raw. “What if he tells me to?”
“He won’t.” Seria breathes. “He doesn’t like that for you.”
This isn’t an argument I can have now, not with two minutes until the show starts. “And your foot?”
She shrugs, holding up a bandaged ankle. “You get older, your ligaments like the tightrope walk less and less. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re not tightrope walking like that--”
“Yes, I am. The Ringmaster doesn’t know and he can’t--if I start giving him performance trouble--you don’t know what happens to the girls who can’t pay off their indenture by performing.”
I swallow once. “You’ll be careful?”
“Always,” she grins, “Besides--one day you’ll know enough about tightrope walking to help me on days like this.”
The last time I trained on the mini-tightrope had proven me to be a disappointment. Still, I smile at her softly. I open my mouth to respond, but a quick tap to my shoulder silences me.
“Miss,” a circus hand I recognize begins.
I smile politely. “Please leave any gifts on my vanity--”
“It’s not a gift,” he mumbles, voice taut, “You have visitors.”
Something solid pushes itself into my chest, wedging itself between my lungs. Have they found me? “I-I don’t take visitors. Not before shows, if someone wants a private reading they’re to go to my tent at the front--”
“We’re not here for readings or any of the other lies you sell.”
...Surprising. I let my gaze move from the face of the circus hand and towards the individuals behind him. A man, tall and dressed in business attire--hat and all. His face is all sharp angles and his eyes are emotionless. His leather-gloved hands grip the head of an intricate cane. Next to him is another tall man, dressed a little more casually, with dark curls. Lastly, there’s a girl, with oil-black hair pulled into a sleek ponytail.
“Then what are you here for?”
Seria, never one to leave me unattended around strange men, takes a step in front of me. “I know who you are, Dirtyhands, and I know there’s no business you could find with her.”
What? Dirtyhands? Can people in Ketterdam ever just be normal?
“I wouldn’t speak so certainly.” I don’t like the way his eyes narrow at Seria or the way his grip on the cane tightens.
Thoughtlessly, I stick a hand between them, forcing Seria back slightly. “I apologize, she’s protective--always assuming the worst in people. Though considering she called you ‘Dirtyhands’, maybe that’s what you want.”
Ugh. All I do is ramble when I most definitely shouldn’t. “Want what?”
Eyebrows drawing together, I force myself to hold his gaze. “For people to assume the worst.”
The response seems to confuse him. That’s okay--I’ll take anything over aggressive. “The only people I want to assume the worst are those I want to be right.”
Okay. Dramatic was a fair assumption.
“Seria.” Oh no. I know that voice. I know that voice too well. “They tell me you're injured.”
Seria stiffens, as does every performer when he addresses them. “Not too injured to perform, sir.”
The Ringmaster sneers. “I can’t risk you falling and embarrassing me. Perhaps tonight you’ll make your money by spending the entire show in the ivory tent.”
The way she hardens wrenches my gut. I press my hands to avoid reaching out for her. “I can do the tightrope.” The Ringmaster’s gaze shifts towards me. “I can do it--and I can do it well and I’ll give the profit to Seria.”
He tilts his chin, regarding me in a way a woman should never be regarded. He’s a predator and I’m a lamb that’s lost its way. Still, I hold his gaze. I don’t flinch, even when he moves to brush his knuckles along my cheek. His touch is acid. Pure, burning acid. “The wings I placed on your back are decorative.”
“I don’t need them.” Total bullshit.
“Hm,” he breathes, letting the smell of alcohol fill the space between us, “I’ll allow it.” The Ringmaster drops his hand to his side. “Wipe that lipstick off your face before someone mistakes you for one of these common whores.”
How I don’t throw up at the sight of him is a miracle in itself. By some small mercy, he turns and walks away before I have to respond.
“You’re an idiot--you know you’re not ready for the tightrope.”
“There’s a net,” I try to keep my voice light, dismissive. She remains tense. “Seria, I had to.”
“No, you could have--”
“It’s not fair that you’re always a shield for me. When the opportunity to shield you for once comes, I’ll take it.” Turning before she can protest, I try to walk forward. The stranger places his cane where I intend to walk, intentionally warning me that he decides when our conversation is over. Unfortunately, I used up all my patience with the Ringmaster. “130 kruge.” He raises an eyebrow. “That’s the estimated amount I’ll make tonight, unless I’m late and excluded from the show. Either make up the deficit you’ll be costing me or let me go.”
His eyebrows draw together, shifting his expression from neutrally calloused to something much darker. “Kaz.” This comes from the girl. She takes a step forward. “Look one step ahead.”
“Excuse me?”
“Everyone thinks you’re not supposed to look down, but looking up is just as impractical.” She pauses, expression strangely mesmerized, “Look one step ahead--not at your feet.”
My genuine smile shocks me. “Thank you.”
“I should be thanking you, Sankta y/n.” Her head bows, hands held together as if in prayer.
Oh. She’s one of the religious that believes me an actual Saint. “I appreciate the sentiment, but if I was a Saint I’d be able to help people.” No matter what I do, no matter how much blood I offer, I can never help people. “And as you’ve seen--I can’t.”
--
The crowd’s roaring is a different world to me. On the platform, feet away from the other wooden structure acting as solid ground, everything is different. I am now in a world where the only thing to believe in is a taut rope. The net is beneath me. I’ve seen it--I’ve checked it.
“And for our grand finale!” The Ringmaster calls, voice billowing over an excited crowd. “Our very own angel defies death!”
An odd way to phrase the tightrope walk. It’s never called ‘defying death’. I had been surprised when I was told that tonight the tightrope walk would be the grand finale--I assumed it was because it featured me. I’m always the finale now. I try to move my foot off the platform but it’s planted firmly. No. I need to see Seria--I need to see who I’m doing this for. I force my gaze to the ground, panic rising in my chest.
Instead of Seria, I see Via--her smirk apparent even from here. Spite’s a decent motivator. My foot descends off the platform, touching the tightrope cautiously. And then I move my other foot. All of me is now on this damn rope. I hadn’t been unforgivably horrible during practice, but I hadn’t been graceful either.
Don’t look down, don’t look up--only look one step ahead. One step ahead--one step at a time. Balance. I take another step. The room is so silent there’s no doubt in my mind the sound of my bones cracking would be heard from the back row. But there’s the net. There’s always the net. I take a second step. And then a third--eyes focused on only one step ahead.
And then the phantom of flame comes to claim me. Fire. The world around me is burning. Damning the consequences, I let my gaze fall to the world beneath me. The net--the Ringmaster had an Inferni light the net on fire. Via--that explains the look.
I can’t fall--the guilt would kill Seria.
Panic twists my stomach as I continue forward. One step ahead. One step ahead--the flames lick upwards, promising pain and grief all over again. One step ahead. One step--that’s all there is to it. The warmth of the fire calls to me. Burning. Burning--and one more step. This isn’t forever. This isn’t permanent--either way this will soon be over.
There’s no miracle for me. No good grace, no wings that would let me save myself. There is only balance.
One step ahead. And then another step. And then I see the other wooden platform. Thank the Saints. I grip the ladder of the platform as quickly as possible. The cheers mean nothing to me as I scurry down the ladder.
I feel a sharp breeze, a Grisha putting out the flames. Anger pools in my chest as I move towards the exit of the tent.
“Y/n.” No. Not him again. That man--Kaz, Dirtyhands, whoever he is--needs to go away. “Y/n.” I turn sharply, anger pulsing through me. My expression must be feral, because he stalls. “They didn’t tell you that they were going to burn the net.”
The fact that he can tell--that he can see my panic and how close I came to death twists my anger into something more fragile. “No.” My posture straightens. “I need to go now, I do--I do readings after shows.”
“Y/n.” He repeats, firmer.
My nails dig into my palms. “I’m going--”
“I know what you are.”
Tensing, my breathing stalls. “What?”
#kaz brekker#kaz brekker x reader#kazz brekker imagine#kaz brekker x you#six of crows#six of crows x reader#six of crows x you#soc imagine#six of crows imagine#my works#series#shadow and bone#shadow and bone x reader#shadow and bone imagine#grishaverse#grishaverse x reader#sab netflix#grishaverse imagine
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Bucky Barnes having a girl headcanon
A/N: this all started from an ask that Kas got but then I started commenting on it and well it turned long so I decided to make it an official headcanon.
Okay so, if Bucky had a child it would be a girl. That is how my mind sees it.
She will be called Becca after Bucky's sister.
She would love to braid his hair and play with it and he just can't say no to her. So he braids her hair and she does his.
She would def put stickers on his metal arm, or even draw on it when he sleeps.
Alpine would be so protective of her, like a mom bc pets are very connected and protective over babies that grew up with them.
And she would love her uncle (godfather) Steve so so much!
Don't even get me started about how she will never be afraid of his metal arm but she would rather admire it, she would clutch it while they are walking and she will wrap it around her when she had a nightmare and she sneaked into her daddy's bed- she will insist on having his left arm around her keeping her safe.
The kids at her kindergarten? They are afraid of her but not because her father is Bucky, no they are scared of Her. Because she is very protective of her dad.
Am I going to start talking about her found family with the avengers? Abso-fucking-lutely
Natasha and her knives. Bucky wanted to be the first one to teach his girl self defense but Natasha beat him to it. He was not happy when he entered the house and saw daggers in the vaults with little Becca excitedly smiles at her aunt when she hit the target painted on the wall. He didn't let Natasha babysit for a month after that.
Clint would teach her ASL so she could talk to him.
Which reminds me
Bucky would teach her Romanian, and will call her by Romanian nicknames 😊
Tony and Bruce would help her with homework or show and tell! She loves just sitting in the lab when she is bored, colouring and asking the scientists about what they are doing. She started to use very advanced scientific terms casually (she used them wrongly but it is still cute)
Obviously she would love to play with Morgan and Cassie
Although one time Scott invited her over for a play date with Cassie and he shrinked with them into a princess castle
Bucky went crazy when he couldn't find her and Scott almost died when Bucky found out.
The hulk? He would be like Alpine. SMALL CHILD IS TINY. LITTLE CHILD NEEDS PROTECTION. HULK PROTECT BECCA.
Steve would be protective as hell. I mean, she would come to him with problems and he would help her with advice that does not include threats and daggers.
But on the other hand...
Steve is a little punk and Bucky used to take care of him back in the 40s (he still does now ofc)
So he will sneak out candies and such when Bucky would tell Becca no more. Bucky will then find Becca eating happily candies with Steve on the couch.
Thor would tell her all about the realms and she in turn would explain to him human terms and slang. He likes having tea parties with her. Lady Becca is a fine ruler of the Tower.
Now because I am me I have to include Loki... The thing about Loki is that I think kids would be attracted to him. He is the kind that would say kids are annoying but eventually will kind of like it. She is just so precious and so he gave in and now he is showing her magic and reads to her.
Okay I'm done with the found family (ha! Yeah right)
Bucky would constantly pick her up and just carry her around because she has him all wrapped around her little finger and he wants to hold her close.
He goes on missions less now after he had her (I guess this is technically a Bucky x reader but I want to focus on Bucky being a dad rn) and he is now mainly training other new agents.
So after Becca was born with those gorgeous blue eyes and brunette hair, Bucky would take endless pictures of her. Modern technology has never been more useful to him.
If Becca starts to cough? Over protective dad mode engaged! He would panic and contact doctors and see Cho or Bruce over every small thing😂 bc he is precious.
I said it before but pre-serum!Steve was sick a lot and Bucky was the one to take care of him... So he was always worried when Becca got sick
But she would be the one to reassure him
Because she is a tough one, just like her dad.
Oh and I almost forgot! (Found family again) Bucky wasn't fond of it at first but Peter was actually a good kid after he got to know him. He stopped his metal arm ffs so Bucky figured he can babysit her bc she would be safe. Especially bc of his Spidey senses that alert him whenever something might be wrong.
So peter became an older brother and you can bet that he got her to watch star wars and other nerdy stuff
And hey, her dad is a nerd too, she will be as well. LOTR? She has every book already.
Now back to Bucky.
He would do anything for his little girl
He never thought he would have a family after he got drafted into the war. And especially after he became the winter soldier. Because who would trust and love him enough to create a little baby with him?
Well he found the right girl
And then little Becca was born and he was in love with her
Becca loves her daddy so much, she is daddy's girl no doubt.
And just like she comes to him for nightmares, whenever she hears her dad having trouble sleeping she would get out of bed with her stuffed white wolf and she would come and ask him if he had a nightmare.
Then she would come to bed and give him the stuffed animal so he can hug it just like she does for comfort.
She is always surrounded by love from her big family and especially from her loving dad
So she always gives it back
And Bucky could not be happier that he has his little girl here with him.
The end.
... For now at least.
#my writing#fluff#i might add on some stuff as it comes up to me#dad!bucky#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky fluff
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if you’re going crazy, just grab me and take me
summary: after the worst year with this fucking family, Ransom proposes on ❄️ chrstmas eve ❄️ it obviously doesn’t go over as well as his emotionally-stunted ass thought it would.
warnings: every god damn word in this thing is a problem. rough smut. choking, anal, hair-pulling, biting, this shit makes the first chapter seem light, i’ll just say that. a lot of fighting. verbal and physical. there’s some fluff but don’t let ransom trick you like he’s obviously tricked me.
word count: this shit is almost 25,000 fucking words 😂😂😂. i dead ass kept being like why the fuck am I taking so long to post this? Then I saw the word count and I 😳🤭🤗😂 someone pls tell me i did not just devote 25,000 words to exposing myself as a weak ass hoe for Ransom. pls tell me this is a fever dream. i can’t.
pairing: ransom drysdale x reader
a/n: holy fuck, am i a disaster. i apologize, i kept falling asleep and wow, i’m just confused about my entire process for writing this bc it was abnormal af.
part one: x part two: x (however, you don’t really need to read them to understand this mess? pretty sure.)
Christmas Eve:
It somehow felt that the entire hellscape that you were currently living in had simultaneously transpired yesterday but also years ago. That was the common feeling one was left with in times of so much exposure to Thrombeys. It was a whirlwind, but there were the good moments, and then the really bad moments, but then the kind of fun moments… It was a rollercoaster, honestly. One you had incorrectly believed you could cope with.
Meg and Joni had called you in a panic from the ski lodge they’d gone to in Canada. There was talk of stopping all flights, how were they going to get home? And lord, what about their home? Were they really supposed to stay there? Since being cut off, Joni had made some career moves that were smart, but she still had to scale back. They were in a much smaller place than before, one that was only temporary—Joni claimed as much about one million times while signing the papers for it.
Jacob had been the next to call, a hysterical Donna could be heard in the background. They had also been moving into another home because of financial issues. You weren’t sure what the ploy was with having Jacob call. Out of everyone in the family, he was the one you spoke to the least, maybe in competition with his irritating mother. Perhaps that had been the angle, were you really going to leave them isolated with their possibly murderous son in such a small house in an unknown neighborhood?
The answer was no. You weren’t going to leave out any Thrombeys. The Drysdales, on the other hand… You had made your terms quite clear. So, with the news of a quarantine sweeping across the country, these overprivileged people flocked to the house they had once called their own. But it was your house now, and that meant it was well within your right to exclude Linda and Richard.
The night you had told Ransom about it was…quite a night.
March: the arrival,
Your grand idea was to deliver the news quickly, over a drink when he was in the best mood he could be. You casually told him that Joni and Meg would be arriving first, then Walt, Donna, and Jacob.
He stared for a long time before simply stating, “I will not let them in the house.”
You rolled your eyes. “Ransom—”
He leaned forward, slamming his glass down on the table between you. “It’s not happening.”
You arched an eyebrow. Was he trying to be intimidating? Oh, you would be just terrified if you were an elderly author or poor nurse tasked with caring for the mentioned author. Seeing as you were his girlfriend, he was out of luck on that.
“I will lock the doors,” he declared, standing to place his hands on his hips. “Not one of those assholes is getting in here. You understand me?”
Instead of answering, you grabbed your drink and returned to the magazine in your lap. That was probably Ransom’s greatest source of irritation, when you decided you were done with the dramatics and ignored him.
He scoffed. “The fact that you think this is happening… It just goes to show—you call me a narcissist, but clearly, you are the narcissist! It takes one to know one!”
It takes one to know one? “Are you five?”
He crossed his arms over his chest.
With a soft sigh, you turned the page. It was silent for several seconds and you weren’t sure if he was trying to build up to something or if he just had nothing else left to try. Whatever it was, you told yourself you were ready for it. How many years was it now? You couldn’t be surprised anymore.
“Are you only with me for sex?”
And you stood corrected. Narrowing your eyes, you looked up at him. “I’m sorry?”
“You clearly don’t care about my feelings—”
“Ransom, seriously, shut up. This is happening, okay? Your family is scared right now, you could try being human. This was their home for a time, of course, they want to be somewhere they feel comfort—”
“No, I’m putting my foot down.”
You rolled your eyes again. “You don’t have a foot to put down. This is my house, too.”
“Too,” he repeated firmly. “Too!”
“Ransom,” you snapped, getting to your feet and throwing the magazine on the table. “Stop acting like a child. They will be here tomorrow. I’m going to bed and if you wanted to join me, that would be great.”
He sat back down, a clear indication that that was not happening.
Things with Ransom, since the last argument, hadn’t been as tense as you thought they would be. Majorly, nothing really changed. Well, sex changed. You guys just weren’t doing that, which was major, because of the rate at which it had been occurring. But other than that, nothing changed. He wasn’t ignoring you, he wasn’t not touching you, there was very simple no sex. At all. But was that something you were okay with? Hell no. It was getting old and you were getting fucking tired of it.
“Fine, if you don’t, just know that I am keeping track.”
“Track?” he narrowed his eyes. “Of what?”
“How many nights I’ve slept without you and how many nights you’ve gone without fucking me.”
“After your last indiscretion, did you really expect anything else? Which you still haven’t apologized for, by the way.”
“Apologize?” you scoffed. “For keeping a fucking vibrator? What do you want me to say, Ransom? Sorry that I have yet to give you total control over my body?”
“That is exactly what I want to hear.”
Without another word, you simply rolled your eyes at him and stormed off to the room you had once upon a time shared with your boyfriend. Not that he officially moved out. In fact, he was still sleeping in there and kept his shit in there. But he was not falling asleep with you nor was he was present when you woke up.
You had no idea what he was doing in there and you were trying to be human, unlike Ransom. Everyone deserved privacy. Besides, he’d made you your sunroom and it afforded him a lot of forgiveness. It was this tiny extension of the house that had huge windows and was just small enough to fit your yoga mat, a couch, and about a billion plants. You read there a lot, you also escaped Ransom a few times. You could understand his desire for an office. But as frequently as he was using it? That was scary.
Admittedly, it was difficult to stay mad at him when you walked through the house that you’d almost now completely rebuilt together. The only exclusion being the office. It had been one of those Harlan rooms that you’d never actually been in prior because you were not family. Weeks ago, you watched Ransom remove everything, add new things, but you still hadn’t been inside. He didn’t so much tell you that it was his own personal room, but it was very clear in how he locked the door. Like, all the time.
You had already been prepping for bed, knowing that the discussion was going to be exhausting. You threw yourself straight into bed, not overly optimistic about the possibility that you were going to fall asleep.
Maybe it was the argument, the mention, the acknowledgment that you guys weren’t having sex. Did he even care? It didn’t seem like it. That caused concern for you. You’d always thought that you would be much older when the two of you would be having no sex. You wondered if things were changing, if your relationship was changing.
Officially, it was hopeless. You were not going to fall asleep. You were just about to get back up when you heard him walking up the stairs, you froze, held your breath, hoped that maybe he wanted to end this. Instead, he walked by the room and to the end of the hall, where said office was.
Fine, fuck him. You just had to get up and moving, there was no shortage of shit you had to prepare. Jacob, though terrible, was family, and a teenage boy. You were going to set him up in a smaller room on the bottom floor. Harlan usually had live-in staff stay in that room if they ever fell on hard times. You figured he would enjoy the privacy. Walt might even enjoy not sleeping in the same room as the next Ted Bundy.
Meg’s room was the most used since she stopped by on weekends sometimes when Ransom was gone for the day or stayed out late. They always met in the kitchen when morning came to argue and give you a headache, however.
She probably needed towels in the bathroom. She might even end up wanting different sheets. Jacob would need more sheets. Was there a color you should give him in the case that the little psycho killed someone, if you wanted to prevent stains? Joni’s room had been cleared out except for major furniture so you wanted to get that set before the morning. You had intended to set all of this up at some horribly early hour, but you were too annoyed to try sleeping. What better time than now?
Did you even have food? You would probably need to go to the store in the morning. You would make a careful list and ensure that no one would need to leave the house again because you were not going to let one of these rich idiots get you sick. Food, sheets because as you were walking through the linen closet, you discovered that you didn’t have really any sets of sheets. Then, you would need laundry detergent, fabric softener. Not all the rooms had pillows—
“What the hell are you doing?”
Ransom found you madly scribbling on a notepad in the center of Joni’s room. You didn’t bother to look at him when you answered, “Making a shopping list.”
“May I ask what for?”
“We have no sheets or pillows or food…or really anything, Ransom. Are we fucking vampires?”
He sighed as he made his way to you. “Okay, it’s time for bed.”
“Go away if you’re not going to be helpful.”
“No, get up now.” But he was met with nothing but silence. Instead of trying another round of verbal communication, he effortlessly grabbed your arms and picked you up.
“Ransom!”
He abruptly took your face in his hands. “They’re lucky they even get to be here. You’re not doing a single thing for these people.”
“Stop, okay? This is our house, we have to have these things—”
“No, you stop. Stop trying to do anything for them because no matter what, they’re going to complain.”
You glared. “Are you trying to help? Just go back to your stupid office and leave me be.”
He arched an eyebrow at you. “It is time for bed. I’m taking you to the room—”
“I’m just going to sneak out as soon as you leave for your office, so don’t waste my time or yours—”
He abruptly threw you up over his shoulder.
“Ransom!” you shrieked in absolute panic, he had never done this. Dragged you kicking and screaming? Yes. Literally pulled you along the floor by your legs? Yes. This? No, not once.
He was quick to get to the room, worried about how exactly you would react, what you were willing to do to make him drop you. He tossed you down on the mattress.
“You’re such an ass! I have to—”
He silenced you by pulling off his T-shirt.
So, he interrupted you because he wanted to have sex? After he had been withholding it? You feigned an unbothered expression. “Ransom, fuck off.”
He scowled. “Why did I have to find you? Why did life bring you to me? Personally, the meaningless fucking was fine for me, a lot less trouble.”
You scoffed. “Do you think I like being with you?! You’re the worst person I’ve ever fucking met, possibly the worst person on this fucking planet!”
He rolled his eyes. “Get on your knees.”
“You are not serious.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re seriously fucking insane, but you’re not serious in that you actually think that’s going to happen!”
“Get. On. Your. Knees. You can do it on your own or I can do it for you.”
You weighed your options. You wanted to have sex with your boyfriend, you wanted to be close to him. However, if he left you after you sucked him off, you might end up killing him. But what could you do? Ransom was apparently in a mood.
Whatever theatrics that were going to occur tonight were already planned, you realized. If he was going to walk away, he was going to walk away. No amount of arguing or any other behavioral tactics were going to change that. You would hit him, you were sure of that, but at least you could get back to making your home presentable.
You reached back for a pillow and gave him a challenging look. He arched an eyebrow at you as you slowly jumped off the bed, laid your pillow at his feet and got to your knees.
“The fuck is this? You suddenly a princess?”
“I’ve always been a princess,” you declared. “One day, a wonderful man or woman, who’s going to give me an even bigger house, is going to know it.”
He glared. “What the fuck is your problem? Do I need to start paying you to keep your mouth shut?”
You snorted. “You have money?”
And that was, apparently, a line crossed for Ransom. Furiously, without another word, he yanked his pants open and shoved them down with his boxers.
Instead of staring at his cock in front of your face, you looked up at him.
He sighed. “Y/N, suck my cock.”
You shrugged. “Why?”
He took himself in one hand and grabbed your hair in the other. He brought your mouth to the head of his cock and waited patiently. You did nothing, simply kept your gaze on him. Rolling his eyes, he pulled at your hair.
You attempted to keep your lips clamped but he continued yanking until you opened your mouth to cry out. Then, without hesitation, he shoved his cock down your throat. You gagged instantly, hands snapping up to shove at his thighs. He wouldn’t budge, he kept you there no matter how hard you tried to push him away—which, admittedly, since you were so wet, wasn’t very hard—or how many times you gagged.
His free hand touched your cheek. “You’re fucking beautiful like this.”
He could fuck off—as soon as he was done coming, you would walk away. You didn’t even want to be fucked by him anymore. But sadly, you had missed the taste of him, the feel of his skin on your tongue.
When he finally pulled you off his cock, you gasped for air. Then, once again, he was thrusting back in. You were choking on him, eyes watering, throat burning, drooling, sniffling, hands begging to be let up again with how hard they gripped his thighs.
But Ransom only let you off when he wanted. The second time, he allowed you to try to catch your breath. Your head was spinning since you were not quite getting oxygen back fast enough. You were blinking away those tiny black spots appearing behind your eyes. He used one hand to wipe away the tears on your cheeks and whatever was falling down your chin.
Then he was bringing you down once more. Holding you in place, he began fucking your mouth slowly, gently, two words that normally did not apply to Ransom. He took his time, he wanted you aching and craving him, and you really fucking were. You thought you wouldn’t feel a thing if he walked away after thing, but now, you knew you were going to set that office on fire if he tried it.
As he neared his end, he grew noisier. You liked that about Ransom, he didn’t hold back due to some insane fragile masculinity thing—no, that was often displayed in less conventional ways. He liked fucking you and he liked letting you know.
He picked up speed eventually, paying no mind to the sounds of you choking every time he thrust in a tad too hard. You didn’t even care, you knew you would be soaking wet, if you just reached down and felt…
He yanked you down when he was coming, buried deep in your throat, reveling in the feel of your throat moving around him, trying not to choke, trying to breathe. “Don’t make a mess, baby, swallow everything I’m giving you.”
You tried, really, you were not just playing your usual game of disobedience. But he really was choking you, so when you tried to swallow, things did not go according to plan. You gagged, nothing was swallowed. A mess you did create. On him, the floor, yourself, the pillow.
Ransom pulled you off and then grabbed your arm to haul you up. His hand still in your hair, he forced you to look up at him, bending your neck back almost uncomfortably. You were still struggling with lack of oxygen and just about fell into him completely, clearly being bratty was not on your mind.
He waited patiently, as if he wanted an explanation. No, you did not intend to do the opposite of what he had told you, but you weren’t about to let him know that. “Baby,” he cooed. His hand slid up from your arm to your neck where some of his cum was sliding down toward your chest. “What was what?”
“Out of practice, I guess. It’s been months since you’ve touched me.” Okay, it had just barely been two months yesterday, but if he could be dramatic, you were allowed as well.
He arched an eyebrow. “Considering you only need to say one word to me, I don’t think you really want it that bad.”
“You’re right, I don’t.”
His expression fell. He had hoped you would desperately blurt out an apology, clearly. Without another word, he shoved you onto the bed.
You stared up at him, face composed. “Don’t you have an office to be in?”
“You seem very jealous of that office, baby.”
“Why would I be? I finally get to be away from you.”
He leaned forward and grabbed your shorts and panties. The way he ripped them off you was damn near violent. You both wanted something rough tonight. “Then why is your pussy wet?”
You shrugged. “Couldn’t be for you. I can’t remember the last time you made me come.”
He leaned over, slowly crawling his way up your body.
Without prompt, you reached between your bodies and pulled your shirt over your head, arching a little more than necessary.
He took your forearms and pinned them to the bed. “Tell me how bad you need me.”
You shook your head. “I don’t.”
“I’m not joking.”
“I’m not joking,” you countered. “I. Don’t. Need. You.”
He took your jaw in one hand, forcing you to meet his stare. “Y/N, seriously.”
He really wasn’t joking, but again, neither were you. “Ransom, if you walk out before you fuck me, I will leave you. Do you understand me? I’ll fucking disappear, and you will never ever see me again.”
He smirked. “I understand.”
“I need you,” you breathed, free arm sliding around his shoulder, clinging tight. “I really fucking need you. I need you inside me. You know it’s been too long.”
Smiling like he just won the lottery, he rolled onto his side a little, turning your hips with him. “Yes,” he agreed. “Too long, baby, I’m sorry.”
You knew he wasn’t. You felt his tip at your entrance and you held your breath. He was a dick, yes, but you had been absolutely starving for his touch, his attention.
He pressed inside and it stung almost as bad as it had the first time. You turned your head away, hand pressed to your mouth to keep quiet. You hadn’t noticed your eyes were filled with tears until he touched your cheek and you blinked in surprise. You weren’t sure what you were crying about, the pain or the relief of finally feeling him.
You kept yourself turned from him, hoping he would just drop it. Of course, he wouldn’t. Of course, the one time you were willing to give Ransom a pass to be a complete ass, he wouldn’t want to take it.
“Sorry, baby girl,” he cooed. He had stopped, letting you adjust to him. However, Ransom didn’t have an ounce of patience and you knew his restraint was slipping. “I’m sorry, I’ll make it better.”
You also knew he wasn’t sorry. You squeezed your eyes shut until he was buried inside you. Feeling so full was something you had missed but feeling wanted was what you had been longing for. He could say the words, he could give you lingering looks when you were wearing a dress or a tight top, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t convince you like when he just grabbed you and used you to satisfy every sick desire he had.
He grabbed your face and forced you to turn back but your eyes were shut. Instead of trying to get you to look at him, he kissed you. His lips moved over yours until you were finally curling into him, his arm wrapped around your back and pinned you against him.
Intimate, close, slow, but so fucking hard, that was how he made you come the first time. There were no words, just grabbing each other, gasping into the kiss, biting one another’s lips, tongue and teeth, scratching nails, pulling hair. He watched your face as you were coming down, hips still snapping up, fingers brushing along your cheeks.
He rolled onto his back and brought you with him. You hissed at the ache of this new angle, using your knees to pull off just a little. He took your hands and set them to the headboard. The way he stared up at you, like he was worshiping every inch of you, it made your skin burn.
“Ride me,” he ordered.
Hands gripping the bed, your hips began to roll. Ransom stared the whole time, where his cock was disappearing inside you, your moving breasts, your gorgeous, soft body. He used one hand to pinch your nipples alternatively and the opposite hand to focus solely on your clit.
You were breathless, shaking, chasing after that climbing high. You let the headboard go in favor of grabbing his hands, dragging them up to circle around your neck. As he began to apply pressure, you continued bouncing on his cock, unashamedly screaming now that he was stifling the noise.
Watching your eyes fill with tears, hearing those strangled sounds tear from your throat, it was enough to get him there as soon as your cunt started to tighten. He was coming with you, squeezing your neck tighter, so tight you tried to pull his hands off you.
But it was futile, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. He threw you down, rolling over so he was on top of you. You wrapped your legs around him, spreading your thighs and taking him in deeper.
He set one hand to the mattress to hold himself up but kept his other hand on your neck. He leaned over, forehead pressing to yours, breathing hotly against your skin. “Say it again.”
“Say what?” you choked out.
“You know.”
You always knew. He had only asked you for this one other time since you’d said it that first night. You stopped caring that he was probably never going to say it back. “I love you.”
His hips finally stilled. You weren’t sure what his response was going to be, but you knew what it wasn’t going to be. Yes, you’d stopped caring, but were you okay with it? You weren’t entirely convinced. But what were you going to do? Leave Ransom? That seemed highly unlikely.
So, you decided to speak before he could. “Even though you’re a fucking loser.”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “And I guess you’re hot enough to keep around even if that mouth annoys the hell out of me.”
That, you suspected, was as close as he was going to get to ever stating his feelings for you. “Are you going to let me get back to my list?”
He rolled his eyes. “No. Not done yet.”
You arched an eyebrow. “Really? You lasted, like, three minutes—”
He gave you a sharp look. “Must be my age, I guess I’ll need a minute before I can go again. But you, baby girl,” he grabbed one of your hands and brought your fingers up to his lips.
You watched closely as he kissed every knuckle before he brought your hand down and pressed your first two fingers to your clit. You shuddered. “Ransom, wait—”
“Since you like getting yourself off so much, you’re going to—”
You sighed. “Ransom, please—”
“And I’m going to watch until I’m ready to fuck you again.”
You pouted up at him. “You said it was time for bed.”
“I changed my mind.” He pulled your legs from around him and sat back to watch you. He pulled one thigh further from the other and gave you an expectant look. “I wasn’t asking, baby.”
For what felt like the first time in years, you were woken up by your boyfriend with his hand between your legs. You were laying on his chest, he was kissing the top of your head, tracing patterns along your spine and just barely teasing your clit.
All he needed to know was that you were awake and then had you pinned underneath him before you could say a word. Last night was nice but now the sun was shining through the blinds and you could see all of him. The freckles on his skin, the fine lines around his mouth because he does actually smile even if he doesn’t want anyone to know. And all his muscles—ugh.
“Good morning,” he said softly.
You smiled. “I have to get up and start getting ready.”
“No, baby. The only thing you need to do is open your legs so your boyfriend can fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”
“Oh, deserve?” you scoffed. “I always deserve to be fucked. What changed your mind?”
He shrugged his shoulder. “Does it matter?”
Few things did when it really came down to your relationship with Ransom. It was all one huge give-and-take and neither of you shied away from taking advantage of that lack of communication.
He kept you there for nearly half an hour, insisting that you give him just one more finish, but he’d done that nearly four times. The reason you were able to escape was that there was someone at the door. As Ransom when to see who it was, you ran for the shower.
You were surprised when he joined you. One of your favorite things in your entire relationship was taking showers with Ransom, but it rarely happened. Whether that be because you were always on a time limit when you were getting ready or because he woke up later than you.
He wrapped his arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.
“I miss taking showers with you, you’re warm.”
He turned to kiss your cheek. “You going shopping?” he muttered against your skin.
“Yeah, we don’t have anything either. We’re out of your favorite cookies, you know.”
He hummed. “Okay, just be safe. Wear a mask and try not to touch anything you don’t have to. Put everything in the back of your car, I put hand sanitizer in there so use it before you touch anything inside.”
You scoffed as you looked back, eyebrow arching. “You sound scared.”
He shrugged. “Well, you know… I just don’t want you to get sick.”
You smiled a little.
“Because I don’t want to have to take care of you.”
“Ugh, Ransom!” You brought your hand up to flick his forehead, but he caught your wrist and used the opposite hand to turn you around.
His arm slid across the small of your back and he picked you up to walk you to the shower wall. He pinned you against it completely, the shower head was almost directly over the two of you. Instead of attempting to watch him, you closed your eyes and pulled him into a kiss by his hair. He angled his hips up and easily thrust inside you.
Your mouth dropped and you gasped, he used that as his chance to bite down on your lip. You were sore between your legs, but the ache was a reminder that Ransom had put aside his pettiness because he had wanted you so badly. You brought your leg up to hook around his hip and used that as your leverage as you began to roll your hips.
He shuddered and bit harder on your lip still trapped between his teeth. He only let it go so he could turn down and press his mouth to your shoulder. “Slow baby, fuck me slow.”
You did as he directed. You slid off his cock and then slid back down, using all the restraint you could muster because you couldn’t wait until his broke. You couldn’t wait for him to grab you and take charge.
His hand slid between the two of you and he began pressing down on your clit, just slightly.
“I could kill you, Ransom,” you blurted out. “You better not ever go so long without touching me again.”
He nodded. “I promise, I will not.”
If you had a question about his tone, it died when his hands finally grasped your hips. “Tell me what you want.”
“Hard,” you pleaded. “So hard, please. I want to feel you all day, I want it to hurt until you’re inside me again.”
And goodness, did he make it hurt. He fucked you until you could no longer stand, until you weren’t able to coherently tell him that you weren’t sure you would ever be able to on your own again.
He had to set you on the floor of the tub when he knew it was time to get out. You weren’t sure why, and if you had been in a better mindset, you would have remembered the importance of always asking Ransom questions about his actions. However, all you could do was stay still, a little dizzy, vibrating pleasantly all over.
It somehow felt like hours but only seconds that he left you alone. When he was standing you back up, you still didn’t have the good sense to ask what the hell he was doing, but you absolutely melted when he pulled you from the shower and wrapped you up in a warm towel. A towel that had clearly just come out of the dryer—this man, that he could be so perfect and just chose not to be, deserved to be in jail. Yeah, the murder thing was a strike against him, you guessed, but this? Unforgivable.
When you got back home, there were several cars that you had never seen. Somehow, despite not getting an inheritance, the Thrombeys still knew how to make money. Which just made the whole Harlan thing even more annoying. Why all the dramatics? Rich people didn’t get poor the same way poor people got poorer. It was merely a showing of greed.
But you could not dwell on things like that, otherwise, this whole thing was going to go bad much quicker than you had suspected. You also couldn’t be the one that made it go bad. You weren’t an actual Thrombey or a Drysdale—and never would be since you fell in love with the least committal one of them all. You, despite extending your home and kindness, needed to be a lot more behaved than Ransom.
As you were bringing in the groceries, you glanced at the cars. There were five in total and you shuddered to think Jacob was driving. He was about that age, of course, but still, yikes. Meg and Joni probably showed up separately, which meant Donna and Walt did as well. Okay, weird, but you long ago stopped trying to guess why these people did what they did.
You wrestled with the front door for a moment and the noise of it brought in Joni and Meg. The older woman was completely decked out in crystals, unsurprisingly, you had just read an about how crystal shops were doing particularly well at this time.
“Hey, guys,” you greeted.
“Thank you so much for letting us stay here,” Meg immediately responded, taking some of the bags from your hands.
Joni followed her daughter’s lead. “Yes, honey, let us help you.”
Okay, suspicious. These people rarely did a thing that would constitute as the simplest of work—save for Meg, of course. “Thanks, but Ransom really should be helping me.” You gently pressed the door back with your leg, not shutting it completely but trying to keep the cold at bay. “Ransom!”
“He’s in the kitchen,” Joni informed.
“Great, we can head that way.”
On the walk there, you found Donna and Walt were in what was now one of many family rooms. They greeted you a tad overenthusiastically—regardless, you couldn’t stop, you’d just deal with it later.
“You didn’t need to go shopping for us,” Donna said.
“Oh, it’s fine,” you assured. “We needed a few things, I thought I’d get it done all at once so you guys wouldn’t need to worry about it.”
As if given a cue, they all began to thank you again. Again, you would need to deal with this when your arms were less full and there weren’t about a million bags in the back of your car.
You led the way to the kitchen, Meg and Joni on your tail. “Was the trip over here easy enough?”
“So weird,” Joni claimed. “People are literally going insane. I went to my usual crystal shop before I got here…”
Typical. She proceeded to tell you about how she had an “altercation” with a woman for a tiger’s eye finished into the shape of her animal spirit guide—which you were forgetting at the moment, a swan or something.
You stopped trying to recall those past conversations in case she quizzed you about what your animal was—she had stressed the importance of finding it and you promised you would the next time you saw her—when you saw Richard and Linda sitting at your kitchen table. Ransom was at the counter, a glass of whiskey in hand.
You merely glanced at them before turning to him. There were no words at all for the rage you felt at that moment. Joni had stopped speaking and was working to get the bags she’d taken from you onto a flat surface so she could grab the rest.
“Y/N!” Richard greeted. “Thank you so much for letting us stay here.”
You lifted your eyebrows at Ransom.
“She obviously didn’t know, Richard,” Linda pointed out. “Because she’s been trying to steal my son away since the day that she met him.”
You turned to her. “Are you—?”
“No, no, no,” Joni interjected. “She didn’t mean that!” She set the last of the bags down and touched your shoulder. “She’s joking!” She turned to Linda. “You’re joking, right?”
“Of course,” Linda claimed, unconvincingly with a smirk that you had come to recognize as smug. Not that you’d seen it much on her, but her son, on the other hand…
Speaking of Ransom, he looked beyond exhausted. Only, he wasn’t, he was just trying to convey that because it was clear that he didn’t intend to have this discussion with you. It never was a discussion, because, for some reason, he made all the excuses in the world for his mother and would obviously choose her over you.
Suddenly, in your mind, things all fell into place. Richard and Linda probably got here after all the others, the rest had been set to get there around noon. He’d kept you in bed to stop you from getting home before them because then you could keep them out of the house, you could have caused a huge scene. Now? It was clear that you were outvoted, the rest of the family probably would have thought of you as unreasonable if you kicked them out now.
Fine, it was all fine. You weren’t going to argue about this, not then. It would give Linda joy to see you have a complete meltdown. Ransom had already humiliated you enough by doing this completely behind your back, you weren’t going to give her anything else.
You turned to the counter to grab his keys. “Well, then you get to go back to the store.” You threw the keys at his chest, probably harder than you should have, and turned to head back out to your car.
It was silent until you exited the room, then Linda felt the need to voice her opinion no one asked for. “I’m just saying, I wouldn’t marry her. She’s shopping for essential items the day company was planned to arrive?”
You turned right back around but Meg was there to usher you back outside. She knew you needed a moment of fresh air and a moment away from Linda. Meg was a rather sympathetic person, she understood completely where you were coming from. In her mind, you were right and Ransom was so wrong for what he did, and Linda was wrong as well. But she also told you, this was how this family went. Linda was at the top now that Harlan was gone. If you sincerely wanted to be with Ransom—and she was confused about that—you would have to suck it up.
That much you agreed with, to an extent. It was clear that you were never going to be able to fix these people completely, but you were trying to create boundaries. Linda could not hit your boyfriend, her son. But how was she going to learn that if Ransom didn’t give a damn? She wasn’t.
You were suddenly wishing you’d accepted the invitation from your parents to stay with them until this all settled down. You had been too scared, however, because of the distance that seemed to be growing with Ransom. Now, you just felt like an idiot.
He lied to you. He did this behind your back, and he used intimacy to distract you from his plans, and that was absolutely disgusting. You couldn’t get over that. You felt used, by the one person you’re supposed to be able to trust more than anyone else in the world.
“Meg, can we have a minute?”
You turned away as soon as you heard Ransom off to your side. If you had a minute with him, you would probably murder him.
“Um,” she started, shifting awkwardly.
“It’s fine,” you assured. “Can you start putting away the groceries, please?”
“Yes, I will do that,” she eagerly confirmed. Meg liked to feel helpful, she often felt guilty about her privilege and wanted to be anything but another typical Thrombey. It was refreshing given all the other extreme personalities you would have to be living with for a while.
“I bought enough sheets for every single bed in the house for the next ten years,” you informed. “Those are fine. We’ll just need more food, probably—”
Ransom reached out for your arm, but you jerked away from him.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Hey—”
You finally turned to him. “I am not talking about this. You lied to me, you did this behind my back—”
“She’s my mom—”
“And I’m your girlfriend!” you hissed back. “And I am so fucking tired of this and you. Last night, you had sex with me to distract me so you could fucking sneak your parents in here. Who does that?!”
“That’s not why I had sex with you—”
“Really?” you demanded. No, you wouldn’t be having this talk, it wasn’t happening. Turning away, you sighed, “It doesn’t matter. I’m done talking to you about this, I’m serious. Do whatever the fuck you want, Ransom. That’s what you always do anyway. I’m done caring.”
“Look, we can’t be fighting with these people here—”
“You should have thought about that before you lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie—”
“I’m having a really hard time right now not running you over with my car,” you asserted, “So I’m going to go back inside. I just need you to go to the store for me, okay? Please, can you do one thing, literally, Ransom, just one thing to help me feel, like, 10% less stressed about all of this?”
“Okay. Yeah, I’ll go to the store.”
“Great.” You started to pull out more bags from the car.
“Can we talk about this later?”
“I don’t know yet.” Hell no, but you weren’t going to tell him that. With full arms, you stormed around him and back into the house.
Later, when he got home, he discovered that you had moved out of the bedroom. Yes, you had moved your shit to another room, locked it, and acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
April: the parents’ bedroom,
It was six in the morning, you had just failed at finishing your yoga routine due to your pounding headache. You’d thought a smoothie would make you feel much better, but see, that was with the condition that everyone else was still asleep.
Not the case.
Joni and Richard were currently in the middle of a debate about anti-maskers. Joni, surprisingly, given all her healing crystals shit, thought anti-maskers were idiots. Richard, on the other hand, believed this was a free country and people should have the right to choose anything and everything because “that’s America”.
You had a blender full of ingredients and when you finally got to turn it on, it was comparable to an orgasm. If only because you and Ransom were back to a no-touching arrangement. You could barely stand to look at him.
They seemed unbothered by the blender, their argument only getting louder. You went to the cabinet to grab some pills, anything that would make your head feel better. Could anything with these people? You weren’t overly optimistic about that prospect.
You took your place back at the blender, leaning down to fall into the pain of that instead of the politics conversation. They did this often. Last week, it was whether people should vote this November. Prior, it had been traveling bans, canceled events, whether unemployment should be giving people as much as they are. Linda and Walt interjected sometimes, even Meg because she couldn’t remain silent on a few occasions, but you, Ransom, and Jacob all but steered clear of it.
You felt a hand on your shoulder and stood up straight. You didn’t want anyone knowing you weren’t feeling well. Richard and Walt always acted like you were dying, Joni would start with her crystals and lectures about the importance of meditating.
Thankfully, it was just Ransom. He had been out, he was wearing a scarf, a heavy jacket, and his pale cheeks were flushed red. He nodded out of the room and you followed because silence seemed too tempting.
“What is it, Ransom?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I need a reason to speak to you?”
Your eyes fell shut and you pressed your fingers to your temples. He wasn’t being serious right now, was he? He wanted to have a conversation right now? You felt on the verge of death.
He touched your shoulder again. “Are you okay?”
“Just a headache. Not a big deal.”
“Not trying to be an ass—”
You opened your eyes. “But you’re so good at it.”
“I told you this was a bad idea.”
“Ransom,” you sighed, shrugging his hand off.
He caught you before you could turn away. “Hey.”
“Ransom, please, I don’t want to talk about this.”
“I don’t want to talk much either.”
You narrowed your eyes.
He shrugged. “You know I know how to make you feel better when you have a headache.”
You hummed. “Sex? Why? Are you trying to distract me again? Were you hoping I wouldn’t notice your inability to wake up at a reasonable hour for me, but how willing you seem to wake up at 5 in the morning to have coffee with your mommy?”
“I wasn’t asleep,” he insisted. “And she heard me come downstairs.”
“Yes, great cover. So convincing.”
“I do not wake up to have coffee with her every morning. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
You lifted your eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He glared. “It’s because I hate sleeping without you.”
“You made me sleep without you—!”
“That was not what you think!”
You narrowed your eyes. “It wasn’t a temper tantrum over the vibrator?”
“No, okay, stop. We’re not going back, okay? No talk about the past, we need to talk about now. You’re the one that made me promise that I wouldn’t withhold sex—”
“I’m not withholding sex, Ransom, I just have no desire to be around you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Doubt that.”
“If you’re having issues sleeping, maybe you should ask your mommy to read you a bedtime story and—”
He pressed his hand over your mouth and started dragging you across the room.
Immediately, you started screaming at him. What the fuck? And you continued to do this until you realized he was leading you to Richard and Linda’s room. Eww, if you didn’t want to talk to him, you certainly didn’t want to talk to her.
But despite your struggling, he forced you into the room and slammed the door before you could escape.
“What the hell?” you demanded.
“This fight is over.”
“No, it’s not!”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m being ridiculous because I care about you? I’m done, I can’t do this anymore. My parents want me to stay with them and I think I should—”
His eyes widened at you. “This is your god damn house—”
“You clearly don’t think so! I had one condition, just one fucking condition. I wanted her to apologize for trying to physically assault you and somehow that makes me the villain in this situation?”
“That’s not what I’m saying—”
“You went behind my back, Ransom.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
Wow, was that an actual apology? It didn’t matter. One apology a month later was too small. “Look, it’s too late, okay? I’m exhausted and I just want to go home—”
“This is your fucking home!”
“No, it’s your mother’s fucking home and it always will be if you let her do whatever the fuck she wants!”
“She apologized!”
“Oh, please,” you scoffed.
He reached into his pants and yanked out his phone. Easily, he found one of the last texts that they had exchanged and turned it to you.
Don’t tell your psycho, fragile girlfriend but I am sorry. I shouldn’t have acted the way that I did. I understand that it was out of line, it will not happen again. Can we come over? You know I don’t want to be alone with your father.
It took three seconds to go from partially angry to very, absolutely, completely outraged. You smacked the phone out of his hand and it clattered to the hardwood floor. “I’m going to fucking kill you, Ransom!”
He threw his arms up. “For what?!”
“Why didn’t you fucking tell me this earlier?!”
“She would have known that I told you.”
“And?!”
“And,” he began, “I…don’t really know what I thought would happen.”
You shoved at his chest and he didn’t even have the energy to step back simply to make you feel better. He didn’t move an inch because you shoving him was like a cat trying to push a lion. “You are such a fucking mommy’s boy! I’m done with this whole thing, I’m done with you!”
“No, you’re not!”
“Yes, I am! You can’t make me stay here, you can’t make me—”
“You love me!”
Your eyes widened. He made you tell him you loved him, never said it back, and now he was using it against you? “You are dead! Do you understand me?! I’m going to run you over with your fucking Beemer! Then I’m going to get a new boyfriend and I’m going to let him fuck me in that stupid fucking car!”
He grabbed a handful of your hair and your hands flew back to scratch at his forearm. He shoved you back onto the bed and made the mistake of rolling over to attempt to get away from him. He grabbed both of your wrists and managed to get them into one of his hands, then yanked down your yoga pants.
“You are tearing them, you ass!”
And then he smacked your bare skin hard enough that it echoed, loud enough that you were sure anyone in the kitchen could have heard it. Your entire body burned with humiliation, but you loved the pain. How had you survived so long without him doing this?
“Shut the fuck up,” he ordered.
“Are you seriously trying to fuck me in your parents’ room?” you snapped.
“No, I am going to fuck you in my parents’ room,” he corrected. “What? You’re not into this anymore? This wouldn’t be the first time.”
“They sleep here,” you reminded. “This is weird given your obsession with her.”
“I changed the sheets this morning.”
“Are you fucking serious? You’re her maid now?”
He smacked you again and you pressed your face down to muffle your scream. “No, I just always knew that I was going to fuck you here today.”
You waited until the pain subsided before you turned your face, Ransom was still working the yoga pants down, a task that seemed impossible with only one hand. “Where were you today?”
“I had a meeting.”
“With whom?”
“None of your business.”
“Yes, it is my business, you fucking dick! If you’re not going to let me go home—”
He spanked you again, harder now, it seemed like an angry action, not just a retaliating one. “You are home, this is your fucking home and if you suggest otherwise again, I fucking swear—”
“What?” you demanded. “You’re going to tattle to your mommy?”
“I should fucking strangle you,” he growled, and before you could say anything, his hand was at your pussy. He scoffed. “You are seriously this wet? You have so many fucking issues.”
“One issue,” you argued. “You.” But that was a lie and he was more than right. You could hear him moving his pants out of his way and you were nearly shaking with the need to feel him.
Abruptly, he shoved his cock inside you and you both moaned as you adjusted around him. It was loud, obscenely loud, there was no question about what you two were doing, and you honestly didn’t care anymore. Had he gotten bigger? No, that wasn’t possible. You were pretty sure it wasn’t.
You felt him moving to tear off his coat. “Don’t you dare throw that coat on this floor, Ransom.”
But he did and he did it so eagerly, like he wanted to irritate you. The floors were hardwood, Linda had her dogs in the home, and their fur got everywhere on Ransom’s clothes. He hated you, you hated it because he just threw things away—didn’t even donate them because he’s such a beast.
Next, you felt his scarf around your wrists and started struggling.
“What the fuck are you doing?!”
“Shut up,” he snarled. “You’re lucky I’m not fucking gagging you.”
As his hips began rocking just slightly, he grabbed your jaw and turned your head back. His lips found yours immediately and while you two were sharing a sloppy, unskilled kiss, he began driving his hips into you as hard as he knew you needed him to.
His skin was slapping against yours noisily, the bed was creaking, moving on those extra hard thrusts. He spread your legs out as wide as he could and held them there, fingers digging painfully into your skin.
Things became very clear to Ransom at that moment. You were underneath him, completely at his mercy since you were bound now. You were pouting, pretending that you didn’t like this, and he wanted to fuck that disobedience out of you. He sat back up, holding your hips as he kept steadily moving in and out of you. “I’m going to fuck your ass.”
You blinked once, twice. ��What?”
He never pulled out, but he did lean over and start yanking on the drawers of one of the bedside tables.
“What are you doing?” No, he wasn’t going to actually…fuck you there. He’d never done it, he’d never even asked about it even though you brought it up a few times. He’d located your plugs that one time, he knew you were into it. But nothing. Why now?
“I know he has to have something,” he insisted.
“I don’t want to think about your parents like that.”
“Oh, no, just think of my dad like that,” he joked.
You shook your head. “Eww.”
“Oh, eww?” he checked. “Since when? You realize you can never talk about fucking him again, right? Looks like you’re going to have to provoke me in other ways now.”
“I didn’t mean ‘eww’ like that,” you claimed, “I meant ‘eww’ that your mom isn’t fucking him, and I definitely should be, because he totally deserves it for being such a great husband and father, but sadly, I’m here with you instead.”
“You’re such a fucking brat and—got it.” Ransom rarely moved fast, preferring to act like the cocky ass that he was, making it clear that he had all the time in the world to do whatever the hell he wanted. Because you were never going to say no. But now, he was acting like he was in a race.
Your body tensed up as soon as you felt the sharp cold against your skin. Ransom took his fingers and spread the gel over your skin, you gasped when you felt one of his fingers teasing your hole.
He did this a few more times, just making sure that you were properly prepped before his first finger dipped inside you. He set his free hand to your back when you tensed. “Relax,” he ordered. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you assured. You’d done this in the past, liked it, but it had been a long time since.
He started pumping his finger in and out and you began to squirm. You were trying to stay still and quiet, trying to hide how good he was making you feel, but he knew. When you pressed your hips back, he added his second finger and you winced.
His fingers already had you feeling so full. That was what you loved most about being with Ransom, you felt almost incomplete whenever he wasn’t in you. Your body was made to take his, to mold to him completely.
“Here’s how this is gonna go, baby,” he began. “You’re going to start sleeping in our bedroom again. Because I am the only man on this planet who can touch you like this and you’re going to stop being such a brat and taking that for granted.”
You scoffed. You were taking him for granted? Of course, every day you didn’t wake up on your knees for him was probably ‘taking him for granted’.
“Yes?”
You nodded, cheek pressed to the mattress. You didn’t care about winning anymore, you needed to be fucked. You lifted your head to look back at him. “Yeah.”
He pushed his third finger as slowly as he could.
You kept your attention on him, watching as his fingers disappeared inside your ass. As he moved his fingers back and forth, he started to tilt his hips. You were hyperaware of everything, you knew where his cock and fingers were, the wall between your two entrances was thin enough that you could feel it all.
He always thought of you as an insatiable, greedy little thing but even he was surprised when you said you wanted more. You wanted his cock, not his fingers, and he figured you were ready for it because you were soaking his length and the sheets.
As he positioned himself over you again, he pulled his cock out of your pussy and you whimpered. He brought his cock up and spread the fingers inside your asshole to open you up for him. You had never experienced Ransom gentler than when he pressed just the tip of his cock into you. You observed in awe, mouth dropped, panting, desperate, soaking. You knew when you were going to feel him, but you were not prepared at all. His cock was bigger than any plug you had used and you were aching.
He groaned when his fingers were out and all that he could feel was you squeezing the hell out of him. “Fuck. Think you can get on your knees for me?”
You nodded but made no moves to do so. He did instead, lifting your hips, and then grabbing your upper arms to keep you there. You pressed your hips down, swallowing more of his cock, whining and moaning at the painful stretch of him.
“Fuck yourself,” he told you.
You were shuddering, body screaming at the uncomfortable angles you were moving. You pushed your hips up until you felt the head of his cock and settled back down until it felt like it was too much, over and over until he knew that your muscles weren’t capable of continuing.
“Almost there,” he promised, lips at your ear. “Almost taking all of my cock, baby.” He let his hands slide down a little, toward your elbows for leverage, and then he started thrusting. He was careful not to go too deep, listening to the sounds you made because words were not your strong point when he was inside you.
You leaned over a bit, unable to hold yourself up completely. You were hovering over the pillows, his hold on you tight enough that you weren’t worried about falling forward. You were practically choking on a scream when one of his hands moved around you to your clit, immediately feeling lightheaded.
You folded over more and Ransom released your arm to grab your hair. Since you weren’t strong enough to hold yourself up completely, he was yanking on the roots of your hair. Your thighs were quivering because you were using them as your only source of balance, and all of that distracted from the painful stretch of his cock driving into you more and more each time.
Your pleasure was slowly climbing. By the time you were coming, your pussy was dripping onto the sheets, you were sweating, shuddering, gasping for air that you couldn’t seem to get enough of.
And he was only halfway inside you. He shoved two fingers into your cunt and used his grip on your hair to shove your face down on the mattress. All his weight pressed down on you until you were flat on the bed, trapping his arm between you and the mattress.
He left you with some space to work, you rode out your high by fucking yourself on his cock and fingers. You were drowning in the sensations, overwhelmingly full of a man that you knew would eventually drive you crazy.
When your body fell limp, he released your hair and grabbed your hip, guiding you to another devastating orgasm. “You still doing okay, baby?”
For a moment, you could only respond with a moan. His thumb brushed over your clit and you gasped. “Daddy, please, please, please—!”
“You think you deserve it, baby?”
“Please make me come,” you begged.
He waited until you were finishing around his fingers and finally, shoved his cock in completely.
You buried your face in the bed, screaming, sobbing, crying his name. He brought his hand from your hip to your hair, petting and shushing you, and that was all you ever needed from Ransom.
He gave you only seconds before his hips were rolling, his fingers pumping in and out of you, thumb rubbing your clit. He paid no mind to you, he simply used your body, no matter how much you were shuddering and shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm.
It was almost immediate that he pulled out after he finished and climbed off the bed to pull you with him. Your legs were shaking, but he held you tight to keep you up. He turned your back to him so he could watch his cum drip out of your ass.
When he turned you back to him, he gathered his cum from the inside of your thighs and ran his hand across your mouth. Fucked out, covered in him, you never looked more beautiful.
“This is your home,” he told you. “If you say it isn’t again, you won’t be able to walk for a very long time. Understood?”
You shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m convinced yet.”
Ransom tossed you onto the bed like you weighed nothing and went to the door just to lock it. Was it weird that you thought you might get something out of Linda pounding on the door while her son was absolutely pounding you?
May: the anniversary,
It was Linda and Richard’s anniversary and that meant that everyone living in the house had to celebrate because the Thrombeys were starting to face withdrawals from not receiving enough attention from others.
Joni and Walt had decided to cook dinner that night and it surprisingly did not end in disaster. There were some presents, the family was trying their hand at online shopping and as the days ticked by, more and more packages were showing up every day.
The night was ending with a game of charades, something you and Ransom elected not to take part in beyond watching. The first team was Meg, Walt, and Richard. The second team was Joni, Linda, and Donna, and Jacob was the referee. They needed one, every single game because they were oddly competitive and whenever things got too aggressive, they were given a card, from green to red. Red meant disqualification, you’d only seen it happen twice in all these years, but it was great when it did happen.
You couldn’t help but watch Richard and Linda. They’d been married for so long now, so you didn’t understand why Richard had had his affair when he did. She wasn’t overly young, she had no money, it just didn’t make much sense to you.
You were on Ransom’s lap in the chair in the corner of the room. He had been drinking all night, so you chose not to. You guys were a better team when you were coordinating like that. He was always weird about his parents, you figured that was why he’d been off all day.
“Do you think you could ever forgive someone if they cheated on you?” he asked.
You turned to him, eyebrow arched. “I would murder you.”
He scoffed. “Come on, be serious.”
“I am being serious, Ransom.”
“If I were going to cheat on you, I would have already done it. I meant in a general sense.”
“I don’t think you love someone if you cheat on them,” you reasoned. “So, would I forgive? Maybe, I guess, whatever that even means. But would I stay? Hell no.”
“Right?”
“You talking about your parents?”
“It’s so weird, isn’t it? I mean, not really. Men are men and don’t they all eventually cheat?”
“You are playing with fire having this conversation with me.”
He scoffed. “I just don’t get it, why would she stay?”
“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It seems like you all have your, like, comfortable environments. You don’t really want to leave them…at least she gave him that killer black eye.”
“Yeah,” he recalled with a small smile. “But…I don’t know, I don’t completely blame him, either.”
“Ransom,” you warned.
“No, I’m not saying it’s my mom’s fault, but…she doesn’t exactly love him either. Maybe he thought she used to.”
“Maybe she did.”
“Yeah, maybe…I don’t know, if you’re blackmailing someone essentially—”
“She’s not blackmailing him.”
“He has no money,” he insisted. “He’s terrified. She holds it over him constantly.”
“Ransom, right now, choose. Me or money?”
He turned to you. “No hesitation, I would choose you.”
You were almost surprised to hear that, you thought…you had always thought you were Ransom’s second love, honestly.
“What? Were you expecting something else?”
“I don’t know.” You didn’t want to make him think you thought so low of him. It was a pretty vile accusation.
“You do, that’s fine…because I do believe that if we didn’t have money, it would tear us apart.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” you argued.
He arched an eyebrow at you. “You love your diamonds and this house. And I like spoiling the hell out of you… I know those are simple things, but to have to work for things? We couldn’t make it.”
“Well, he obviously wasn’t that scared, or he wouldn’t have cheated. That was my point. You’re acting like money is the most important thing, if it was, he wouldn’t have risked it.”
“True. I don’t know if I would be able to deal with it.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck and laid your cheek against his. “Ransom, baby, you’re jealous of inanimate objects and you once fucked me every day for a week and didn’t let me come because you thought I was talking to my ex.”
“It depends how it started, that’s all I’m saying. People aren’t perfect, you know.”
“I am,” you declared.
He scoffed. “You let me fuck you while you were dating that ex.”
“You coerced me,” you argued. “I was innocently in my own room and you just showed up—”
“So, you’re saying I seduced you?”
You rolled your eyes. “Can we go to bed? I don’t think there are going to be any fistfights tonight.”
“I’m sorry, baby, I know you were looking forward to that.”
“A bit,” you admitted.
“I’ll tell you about the time my mom tackled Joni at my high school graduation.”
You gasped. “I love when you tell me stories.”
Ultimately, things had gone back to normal with you and Ransom. He was sleeping with you more nights than not, he was in his office much less, things seemed to be in a much better place.
June: the affair,
Until June rolled around.
Then all his office shit started up again, the late nights, the insane number of hours. You tried to be understanding, but then he was abandoning you at family dinners and there was the time some moron rear-ended you and you had to call Walt because Joni and Meg weren’t picking up their phones because it was five in the morning, and Ransom wasn’t either because Ransom wasn’t a reliable boyfriend.
He had been apologetic, and you were just relieved that it had been an overall easy situation, so you didn’t hold it against him. Not until you had to borrow his phone to call yours because you had once again misplaced it. You were, once upon a time, a very organized, together person. Then the Thrombeys moved into your home.
You saw dating apps. Dating apps! On his fucking phone. You had no idea how to react, so you just didn’t. You made the mistake of letting everything grow, everything just pile on top of one another until you were at your breaking point.
Linda liked to poke at you and normally, she couldn’t. Because normally, Ransom was around. Because Ransom knew how his mother was and he knew how you were, and he just didn’t want anyone to end up dead.
That changed one morning when you were making pancakes and she came in for her early morning coffee. She asked where Ransom was and that was really the start of it because she did know. She found it hilarious that Ransom had his own office and never let anyone else in. She hated that she wasn’t allowed in but was placated that you weren’t either.
But you told her where he was anyway because you were attempting to be civil. She pointed out how much time he was spending in his office and you pretended it was common, she then asserted that that was how Richard was behaving during his affair.
And honestly, why hadn’t you thought of it before? He had to be having an affair, you always heard him typing in his office. He was clearly on some website, probably some BDSM chatroom, and you were going to fucking kill him.
It all made sense now, last month when he’d asked you if you would forgive cheating. That was just Ransom being Ransom, he was trying to guess your reaction if you ever found out. Well, you hadn’t been exaggerating, you would kill him.
You stormed up to the office and started pounding on the door. The rest of the family was going to hear you, but they were smart enough to know they better just mind their own business in their rooms.
“Ransom!” you yelled after minutes of no answer. Again, you were met with silence and that was when your irritation became fury. “Ransom, I will kick this fucking door down! You know these doors are old and weak and I can do it!”
Long story short, the doors were stronger than you thought, and you could not do it. The low point of your life was probably having to crawl to Meg’s room and ask her to call their super-expensive home doctor because you had done something terrible to your foot.
Ransom showed up three hours later after you had been all wrapped up and the family was fawning over you. You were being forced to sit on the couch and they would not stop asking you if they could get things for you. You were already wearing three different crystals, Walt had made you hot chocolate, and Jacob was checking his horror movie collection for your favorites.
“What the hell happened?” Ransom demanded.
You glared at him. “Where were you?”
“I was out for a walk.”
“And you didn’t take your phone?” Richard pressed. “We were calling you non-stop.”
“I left it up in my office,” he informed, moving to your side. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“She tried to kick down your office door,” Linda answered.
Ransom gave you an incredulous look. “I’m sorry?”
“You should be,” you retorted. You never argued in front of the family because you and Ransom were a team. Yes, you fought, but you never wanted to give the family insight on the cracks in your relationship because you knew they would exploit them.
“Enough,” Meg cut in. “No arguing, Dr. Fields told her to take it easy.”
“You had to call the doctor?” he questioned. “What did you do?”
“Fracture,” Linda informed, “Not that big of a deal. Please, continue arguing.”
Everyone else glared at her while you and Ransom glared at one another. It was then that Jacob reappeared with one of the Saw movies. Typically.
August: the book,
You had taken to sleeping in Meg’s room with her because Ransom was a demon, but he wouldn’t try to enter her room. Ever. So, you comfortably stashed yourself away there every night and stayed there most mornings until noon. She didn’t mind. You’d gotten her a tv in there, so you watched Netflix a lot.
You had yet to confront Ransom with your accusations because you were scared. This family was obscene, being part of it was insane, every single person here was terrible in their own right. But you liked talking to Meg, you liked gardening with Joni, you liked reading the newspaper with Walt in the mornings and talking about the crime section. Even Jacob wasn’t the worst company, he liked to watch Dateline with you.
Ransom was convinced that you were just mad at him because you fractured your toes and couldn’t do yoga for a while. You were fine with him believing that because then you would have to have the conversation.
It was an odd situation to be in. You were sure he hadn’t physically done anything, but you weren’t sure if that should make you feel better or worse. He was connecting with someone and after your conversation, it was clear that he also believed you couldn’t cheat on someone you love. Given that he’d never said he loved you, you were rightfully concerned.
Did he ever love you?
Did you just spend almost 7 years with someone who was never going to feel that way about you? Did you throw away all those opportunities with someone else? Did you stupidly choose Ransom over your family?
Did you let this happen?
You had said you couldn’t forgive it, but now you understood why Linda did. If you love someone, you just don’t want to lose them. You hope that they don’t betray you, but what about when they do? It’s not easy to just leave.
You still loved Ransom, you always would. You didn’t want to lose any of the relationships you formed with the family, but it was different with Ransom. You didn’t want to, obviously, but you also couldn’t. You couldn’t imagine a life without him, you couldn’t imagine moving on, you couldn’t imagine being with someone else.
What did that mean?
You weren’t sure about the long-term answer, but short-term, it meant that you were going to pretend. He wasn’t cheating, he didn’t have dating apps on his phone, he didn’t even have an office as far as you were concerned.
Nothing. Everything was perfect.
Until Jacob’s birthday. You weren’t aware of it before, but unsurprisingly, he was a fucking Leo. You made a mental note to investigate the astrology of certain serial killers Jacob reminded you of, but you would do that with Meg later.
You were helping Walt and Joni cook this time. Apparently, they were the only Thrombeys that knew how to cook and were pleased to have another addition to the small team. It wasn’t a particularly difficult meal, lasagna with garlic bread, but it was Jacob’s favorite.
The plans had been made the week prior, Ransom was going to do one thing for you. Just one, you asked for so little. He would pick up the cake at noon and hide it in the second kitchen. Hide because Jacob wasn’t aware this was happening. He didn’t like to be the center of attention and if he knew this was happening before it was actually happening, he would do anything he could to stop it.
But come 2 PM, three hours after the cake was set to be picked up, you received a call from the bakery. You had let them know that your boyfriend was going to pick it up and you left his name with them and everything, all Ransom needed to do was show up.
The woman on the phone informed you that that didn’t happen, and they were about to close because of pandemic hours. You promised you would be in before she needed to shut the doors and since you were comfortable with your window of time, this was done. Over. First, you were going to yell at Ransom.
You quietly made your way to his office and listened with your ear pressed to the door. You didn’t make a sound until you heard him typing, then you started banging on the door with both hands.
It was seconds later that he answered the door, a confused look on his face over your apparent urgency. He looked like he’d pulled an all-nighter and smelled like a lot of alcohol. “What?”
“What the fuck, Ransom?”
“What? What do you need?”
You tried to open the door, but he held it in place.
“What the hell are you doing?”
You were getting into that office because you were going to find out what he was doing, he was not going to continue to lie to you. You kicked his shin and when his leg buckled, you shoved your way in.
“Hey!” He hurriedly shut the door behind you. He did not want anyone else getting in.
It looked like a normal office. There was a full bookshelf of titles that you couldn’t read because your anger was blurring your vision, there was a desk, a laptop, chairs, a bar cart, not a thing out of the ordinary. What the fuck was he doing in here all day?
There was only one logical answer. You finally turned to him, hands on your hips. “Who is she, Ransom?”
“What?”
“I know you’ve been cheating on me and I’m not going to play this game with you! I just want to know who the fuck she is!”
“Are you out of your mind?!”
“Yes, I’m out of my fucking mind! I’ve been living with your psychotic family since March, dealing with their shit on top of yours, and you are now cheating on me! Please explain to me how anyone else wouldn’t also be out of their mind!”
“I’m not cheating on you!”
“Really?! Then what the fuck are you always doing up here?”
He paused at that.
The camel’s back broke. This was officially over. You turned around and rushed to his computer. He only took a second before he realized what you were doing and followed you there.
“I swear to everything above, if you are in some pathetic chatroom—”
He leaned over you just as you reached for the laptop and slammed it shut. “I’m not cheating on you!”
“Then let me see your fucking laptop!” You didn’t care that he had his hands planted on it, you still grabbed the opposite ends and tried to pull it out from under him. It wasn’t a logical plan since he was much stronger than you, but you weren’t necessarily operating on logic.
“You are crazy,” he asserted.
You moved your hands to the top edge of the laptop and threw your entire body back into Ransom. More than anything, it probably shocked him into moving back. Had you known that it was going to work, you probably would have been better about keeping your footing. Since that wasn’t the case, you both ended up on the floor and for a split second, the laptop was only in your hands.
You dove forward, just inches from the door.
Ransom rushed after you, grabbing your leg to pull you back down.
You knew he was going to get you under him, you wrapped your arms tight around the laptop and started screaming. Joni or Richard might feel inclined to call the police if they thought the two of you were honestly fighting.
Ransom slammed his hand down on your mouth as he crawled over you, knees pressed to your hips to keep you pinned there. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”
You didn’t say a word and you didn’t let your hold on the laptop waver for even a second.
“If I move my hand, you better not scream again,” he warned.
Obviously, you were going to. As soon you could, you yelled, “Call the police, he’s going to kill—!”
Ransom covered your mouth again, eyes wide at you. “You have lost it!”
It was then that you realized you needed to do something. He had the upper hand, and he was going to get the laptop away from you if you did nothing. You started swiping at him with both elbows and knees, never catching anything, but making him nervous enough to back off a little.
Fuck it, he was done trying to be reasonable with you. He moved his hand again, but only to start fighting with you over the laptop again.
“Let it go!” you shrieked.
“You let it go!” he countered. “It’s mine!”
“Not anymore, cheater!”
“I’m not fucking cheating on you!”
“If you have some online BDSM girlfriend, I’m going to fucking kill you!”
“What? What the hell goes through your mind!?”
“You’re constantly in here and you won’t let me in, and you never tell me what you’re doing, you never tell anyone else either—”
“Because I hate my family,” he reminded.
“And clearly, you hate me!”
“I don’t hate you, you’re being childish.”
“Tell me her name, Ransom, or so help me—”
“I’m not cheating!”
“I saw the dating apps on your god damn phone!”
“I am not cheating!”
“Then what are you doing?!”
“I’m writing a book!” he hissed.
You froze. He was what?
He kept his voice quiet, “That’s where I was a couple months ago, the meeting that I told you was none of your business. I only had a few chapters, but I got a deal out of it—”
“Get off me.”
He blinked in surprise and then hurried to do so, helping you up, no longer interested in stealing away the laptop.
You held onto it because you weren’t yet sure if you were going to use it to cause severe bodily harm to him. He was writing a book and didn’t tell you? You didn’t know he was interested in writing at all. You didn’t know he could sit down and write more than one entire sentence. He was always moving around, throwing himself into mindless activities.
A book?
You were hurt. Getting a book deal was major and he didn’t tell you he was trying for it, but then he didn’t even tell you that he’d gotten it. He had this huge thing in his life that he kept separate from you and that hurt your feelings.
“That’s was the apps were,” he explained. “I was doing research. Honestly, I’ll let you see the profiles, they’re not even pictures of me. I haven’t spoken to anyone either, it’s just very basic—”
You held the laptop out to him.
He slowly took it back from you, preparing for any other extreme reaction you might have. What he wasn’t expecting was complete silence, he figured you must have been confused by this. It was rather sudden, even for him. “You going to say something?”
You debated for a long while. You wanted to ask why he was pushing you away. You wanted to ask if it was because he didn’t think you were supportive, if he just didn’t want you to know, then you wanted to know why that was. What had you ever done that made him think he couldn’t tell you about this?
“I have to go get Jacob’s cake.”
“Shit!” He ran his hand down his face. “I completely forgot—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Then you were rushing out, ignoring the curious looks from the family on the way.
October: Ransom’s birthday,
It had been seven weeks since you found out about the book and seven weeks since you last had an actual conversation with Ransom. That was your doing purely, and he made the attempts, but you ignored them.
Linda was thrilled. This was different than when you and Ransom were fighting, because fighting indicated that you had the desire to win, he had the desire to win, but then that meant a resolution would follow. If you were ignoring him, what did you want? She hoped it was the end of the road for the two of you.
You weren’t sure. About anything. But you just had to go day by day and listen to yourself. Up to now, you weren’t sure what you wanted to do. As time went on and you were left to wallow in your hurt feelings, you were wondering if maybe this was the end.
Seven years and he didn’t tell you he was writing a book? That was insane, that was inexcusable. You didn’t get to have any part of your life not completely exposed to Ransom and you were okay with that. Obviously, he didn’t feel the same.
Seven years, a nearly dead modeling career, no skills, no aim in life. You had no idea how you would start all over. You had no idea how you would live your life without being Ransom’s girlfriend. It was practically a title, like the queen, and you loved it. You loved him.
But he didn’t tell you about the book! How could you get over that? Well, you could talk to him, but you were not going to do that. You just weren’t ready because you would want to know why and all the answers that were playing out in your mind were not going to make you feel better.
It didn’t matter, or more correctly, it couldn’t matter. Ransom’s birthday was coming up and Linda was trying to fight you on everything.
It was October, the worst of the pandemic was over, wasn’t it? No, you didn’t think so and anyone with two solid IQ points wouldn’t either. She wanted some family over, some of his friends—Megan, you had heard her mention to Richard. You didn’t want a single person in your house, no one outside of the family.
She suggested going to a restaurant then, but you knew Ransom hated when they threw him parties like that.
She wanted him to have a red velvet cake and you knew that Ransom hated red velvet. He preferred lemon, but he told you that you were never allowed to get him a lemon cake because he would eat it all. He was fine with chocolate, didn’t hate it, didn’t love it.
If you weren’t going out, then she wanted catering from his favorite restaurant, and a minimum of 30 people over, the house was big enough for it. It wasn’t even his favorite restaurant, the one she wouldn’t stop talking about, you knew for a fact Ransom did not like 30 people, and the house was not big enough for it.
On top of all of that, she kept asking you what you were going to get him. She just didn’t want to get the same thing. Why would that happen? Why would she get him the same thing as you? You had no idea, but she insisted on knowing. Problem was, you didn’t have an answer to give her. You had no idea what you were going to get Ransom.
Three days before his birthday, Ransom found you on the floor of the kitchen with an icepack pressed to your forehead. It was three in the morning, you had most of the lights off, only your phone and laptop providing light. Even in the dim kitchen, he could tell that you had been crying, eyes puffy and red, tear tracks down your cheeks.
He had been in his office, more writing. He’d only come down for a glass of water, sure that no one else would be awake at such an odd hour. This was the first time in a long time that he had seen you alone, and this naked. Usually, you were surrounded by the family, Joni being the greatest culprit. And since you still weren’t sleeping in the bedroom, he hadn’t seen you in your tiny shorts and bralettes.
He sat down at your side, setting his hand on your thigh. “Hey, is everything okay?”
You tossed the icepack onto the floor. “I never got stress headaches before your family moved in.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.”
It was silent for several moments after that, you were thinking about how you wanted to approach this topic. It was clear now, in your mind, why he hadn’t told you about the book. “I never listen to you.”
He turned to you, eyebrows pulled together. “What?”
You were already crying again, tears rolling down your face. You had felt terrible these past few weeks and you were finally beginning to understand why. “I don’t listen, I’m a terrible listener.”
“No,” he protested. “You’re not a terrible listener—”
“I have no idea what to get you for your birthday. I never know, I never get you a good present.”
“Yes, you do,” he argued. “And you don’t need to get me anything—”
“Of course, I do!” you blurted out. Was he insane? This was his birthday, you couldn’t not get him something for his birthday. “This is why you didn’t tell me about the book, right?”
His eyebrows shot up. “What?”
“Because I don’t listen,” you explained. “Why would you tell me about it if I wasn’t even going to listen, right?”
“Baby,” he sighed, “That’s not why I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t trying to keep it from you, honestly—”
“You didn’t tell me you were writing, you didn’t tell me you were trying to get published, and then you didn’t tell me about the book deal.”
“I know…I was going to.”
“But?” you prompted. “How could you not tell me about any of it?”
“I was worried.”
“Why?”
“Because of fucking Harlan. He’s the world’s best mystery author, for whatever fucking reason. I was worried that you wouldn’t think I should do this. I was worried about how it would look. I don’t want to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps like the rest of my pathetic family.”
“So, were you just never going to say anything about it?”
“Well…maybe. There’s something else… I wasn’t sure I was going to use my name, so it was completely possible that I could keep you from ever finding out about them. And if you ever got suspicious, maybe publish a few of the others under my real name.”
“Others? What are you talking about?”
“So…my book deal is for, at the very least, three books. In a series. If they do well, I can do others, with the possibility of keeping this series going…whenever I feel inspired to do so.”
“Okay…what’s the series about?”
“A woman.”
You narrowed your eyes.
“A very mean woman,” he clarified. “She’s a black widow, you know, marries rich men, murders them, takes the money…and I’ve sort of been using your name.”
Your eyebrows slowly rose. “You’ve been writing about me?”
“No,” he immediately protested, then sighed. “Okay, a little, but she’s beautiful. I mention that a lot, I promise.”
Yes, you were relieved. But was he completely off the hook? You slapped his shoulder. “Are you serious?”
“Hey,” he held his hand to the skin that you had just smacked. “Ow, maybe don’t hit me just days away from my birthday if you didn’t get me anything.”
“God, Ransom, I was really hurt.”
“I’m sorry about that. Really, I know I rarely ever apologize and sometimes, I don’t mean it, but I mean it now.”
“Well, can I read some of it?”
He smirked. “I don’t know, baby girl, you haven’t been behaving lately. You tried to break into my office, hurt yourself, and then did break into my office to steal my laptop. You thought I was cheating on you.”
“I saw dating apps, Ransom.”
“After we talked about my parents—”
“You lock yourself in your office for, like, 20 hours at a time—”
“And some BDSM chatroom? Because you’re normal in bed?”
You rolled your eyes. “Look, I’m sorry for accusing you of cheating, but you should have told me about the book. Which you apologized for, so it just cancels out. Let’s do what we usually do and just pretend it never happened.”
“You told Joni to call the cops,” he reminded.
You shrugged. “I miss Wagner, he probably would have been over here immediately.”
He snorted. “Okay, we both made mistakes, but you’re right.”
With his agreement to move on, you climbed onto his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Please?”
“I’m not completely convinced yet,” he teased.
Rolling your eyes, you kissed him. “Now?”
“You’re getting closer.”
You scoffed and kissed him again, reaching into his sweatpants to pull out his cock. It didn’t take long to get him hard and as soon as you did, you used your other hand to pull your shorts aside. You broke away from the kiss to watch his face as you slowly slid down his length.
His hands gripped your hips and he nodded. “Yeah, you can have whatever you want.”
You smiled. “Perfect, let’s get it now.”
He snorted. “Wow, now you’re a fucking comedian?”
“Well, you’re an author,” you retorted.
He nodded once. “You have a point. I vaguely remember what I wrote, want me to tell you?”
You nodded. You wanted to hear it in his voice, you were going to demand that he read it to you anyway.
“Her first husband was a writer,” he informed.
You lifted your eyebrows. Was that supposed to be clever?
“He often wrote poetry about how devastatingly beautiful he found her.”
You rolled your eyes a little, turning down to stare at his chest. He was wearing a shirt, but you could still see the muscles through the white material. “How did she kill him?”
“Scared him to death, she is very scary.”
You bit your cheek to prevent a smile.
“His fault, though. He was never healthy, did a few drugs he shouldn’t have. Drank too much, never ate right. He had a weak heart anyway.”
You hummed.
He wrapped his arm around your back and rolled you over onto the floor underneath him. He pulled your thighs apart before placing both hands on the floor for balance. Slowly, he pulled out and drove back in hard.
You gasped his name, arms winding tightly around his torso.
“He loves her skin,” he asserted.
You nodded encouragingly, you wanted him to tell you everything. “Mhm.”
“Loves how soft she is, especially her thighs, and he loves how she bruises.” He was steadily rocking his hips, speaking just loud enough that you could hear him over the wet noises of his cock sliding in and out of your body, but quiet enough that you were sure no one else would hear.
You reminded yourself you were downstairs, on the kitchen floor, it was important to remain quiet. Ransom’s family had caught you in a lot of low moments over the years, but this would take the cake. You turned your head, burying your face in the bend of his neck.
“He loves her neck, how perfectly it fits in his hands. He loves her lips, how they look wrapped around him, or when she’s smiling—”
“You wrote that?” you breathed.
“This isn’t some school-book-report shit like what Harlan was publishing.”
“Those weren’t children’s books,” you felt inclined to point out.
“Well, mine have sex.”
You snorted. “You’re going to write about other men fucking me?”
“A woman here and there,” he explained. “That’s why they have to die such horrible deaths.”
You laughed briefly, pressing your mouth to his shoulder when you worried you would moan.
“He loves her legs, how tightly they wrap around him.” As he spoke, he lifted your legs one at a time, pressing them to the sides of his body as a cue to hook your ankles together. “He loves her arms, how easily he can pin them above her head.” Again, he did just that and you were forced to lay flat on the floor, clamping your mouth shut to stifle the noises spilling out.
After managing to get both wrists in one hand, he placed his opposite forearm off to your side and set all his weight there. You could feel it in the way he got heavier against your hips, trapping you between him and the floor, controlling every aspect of how he was going to make you come.
He stared down at your face for a moment, watching you struggle to keep your composure as he was fucking into you harder now. He leaned down and your eyes fell shut, he kissed over both eyelids and said, “He loves her eyes, even when she’s looking up at him, demanding something, a new diamond necklace, a car, but won’t actually say the words because she’s so fucking spoiled.”
You smirked and he felt it, and his hips snapped up harshly to get it to stop. It only worked for a moment. You were smug, Ransom was pouring his heart out to you and confessed that he liked that you were spoiled? You would never let him live this down.
“He loves her cheeks,” he started kissing across your face and you couldn’t help but smile, “Especially when she’s doing that.” He stopped to pay special attention to your nose, “And he loves her nose, even though she hates it. And he loves when she pouts,” he lowered his mouth to give you several chaste pecks, until you were pouting because he wouldn’t just kiss you.
With a scoff, he finally let you kiss him back. It didn’t last long before he was on the move again, pressing his lips to your chin and proclaiming the fictional character’s love of that, then your jaw, your clavicle, and once he tore your bralette out of the way, your breasts.
As he continued to move down, he was sliding his cock out by the inch and you were trying to stop him from getting too far, you were desperately pulling at him with your legs, but Ransom was much stronger than you.
“He loves her stomach,” he muttered into your skin as he descended and finally, his cock slipped out. Because of that, he had to let your wrists go but you knew better than to try to move them.
“Ransom, please—”
“And he loves her hips.” As he pulled down your shorts, he kissed the skin he exposed, almost frantically alternating between left and right. Once the shorts were down, he spread your thighs and looked up at you. “And he fucking loves her pussy.”
You let out a strangled, high-pitched sound as he dove down and wrapped his lips around your clit. He stared at you the entire time as he sucked for a few seconds, then flicked his tongue back and forth, only to repeat the pattern until you were crying and squirming, staying in the position he had placed you in.
When he knew you were close, he pulled back. He only set small kisses to your aching center, hands moving up and down your hips, your stomach, your thighs. “He loves how sweet it tastes, he loves how fucking tight it is, how it feels like his cock was made to be inside it—”
“Ransom, please,” you blurted out. Your arms were stinging with the desire to reach down for him, but you knew that would change the path of this entire night. You just needed to be fucked. Simply. Intimately. None of the elaborate shit you both usually tried.
In seconds, he had made his way over you and was inside you again. You wrapped yourself around him, arms and legs, and held onto him tight enough that you were sure he wouldn’t be able to get away again.
“He loves every fucking inch of her,” he stated. “Because she’s his, she belongs to him and she’s never going to belong to anyone else.”
You scoffed. “But she kills him?”
“Well, she’s a complex woman.”
You rolled your eyes. “I’m not complex.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“I just want you and this house, and I want all of this shit to be over so we can get rid of your family.”
He kissed you shortly. “That makes two of us, baby.”
There was a difference between loving something about someone and truly being in love with someone. You’d always loved things about Ransom, but it took you about a solid year to confidently admit that you were in love with him. He could say that he loved everything about you, but that was not him finally saying it.
“Does she love him?” you wondered.
He shrugged a shoulder. “He thinks so.”
“Does he love her?” This wasn’t asking for too much. Ransom could hide behind this fictional creation of his and say yes, and you would never ask again. You just wanted to hear it once, that wasn’t unfair.
He considered his answer for a long time, breaking eye contact to look down at where his fingers were hovering over your shoulder. He began to trace shapes there, still contemplating. “Sometimes…she thinks so.”
“But does he?” you pressed.
Again, more silence. He was trying to gauge what he could get away with. He always knew this was going to wear on you eventually, but he never thought it was going to be during one of the times he was inside you. How could you not feel how he felt about you? “I think—”
“Are you fucking serious!?”
You immediately knew whose voice that was—Linda. Shutting your eyes, you let your head rest back on the floor. The headache you had been crying over earlier was returning.
“RICHARD!” She turned out of the kitchen and began storming back to her room. “Richard, wake up! You need to talk to your son! Is there no place in this house anymore that is sacred?!”
Ransom sighed deeply and you looked up at him. “Well, do you want to make you come first before we go upstairs?”
You shrugged. “Okay. Hurry up, we don’t have to be quiet anymore.”
November: thanksgiving,
Ransom was on his best behavior, you theorized that was because he didn’t want you to again ask him for more of that insane basic human emotion. Whatever, you could not dwell. There were people dying in this world, and you wanted to waste time crying over your boyfriend who gave you everything you wanted, but just wouldn’t say a certain word to you?
Well, the answer was yes, but it was Thanksgiving and the Thrombeys had about a million and one weird-ass family traditions. That meant you were short on time to be pouting.
It was a freezing, perfect day. It had snowed all night and the house looked like something straight out of a Hallmark movie. Yes, this was going to be a complicated day with a lot of personalities that were butting heads because everyone had been together for way too long, but you were feeling festive. You wanted to make the best of the day and you planned to force the rest of the family to follow your lead.
The start of the traditions was donating money. You were the one who brought it up as soon as Richard tried to skip down the list. It always started with donating. Harlan would write checks for half a million dollars and let every member choose where they wanted to donate, the past three years you were included in that. Harlan always liked you, probably more than he liked some of his actual family.
“I’m just not sure,” Donna was saying, “We haven’t made much money this year.”
“Are you kidding?” Meg demanded. “Your husband’s publishing company is still seeing sale increases.”
“Because of the death of the author,” Linda pointed out. “Meaning, we should be a lot more frugal. The money will not be coming in the same way that it was.”
“This is not up for debate,” you snapped. “Everyone pick a god damn charity. Harlan insisted on this every single year, and we are going to continue it. Unless you all would like to provoke his ghost to come murder us. He died in this house after all!”
“It’s money,” Ransom pointed out. “We have more than enough, some people don’t have any.”
Linda rolled her eyes. “My son is just trying to get you to have sex with him.”
You glared.
“Mother,” Ransom sighed. “This isn’t a discussion. Just pick your damn charity.”
“Donna, it’s fine,” Walt promised. “Meg’s right, we’ve had a great year. And Y/N is right, Dad always wanted us to do this. I will start with my usual charity, Homes for Our Troops.”
“Fantastic.” You took the check as soon as he handed it over. “Donna?”
“American Cancer Society, of course.” She held it out for you and then looked to Jacob. “I think this year—”
“I have a charity picked,” Jacob informed.
Everyone fell silent. Likely, everyone’s immediate suspicion was Trump’s request for donations since he was still insisting the election was fraudulent. However, no one said anything because no one wanted to be the first victim of Jacob’s impending murder spree.
“Can’t I pick my own?” he pressed.
“Yes,” you answered. “You can, because everyone can pick their own charity.”
“Yeah,” Walt echoed. “Of course.”
He wrote the name down and slid the check across the table to you.
Ransom’s hand tightened on your thigh, a reminder not to let anyone antagonize you this holiday.
“Canines for Disabled Kids,” you read. “Jacob, that’s really great…I didn’t even know that was a charity.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, well, I like the idea that they can have dogs as friends and don’t have to make human friends. Humans are so stupid.” Then he returned all his attention to his phone.
“And we’re back,” Richard muttered.
Donna’s head snapped in his direction.
“Okay,” you interjected. “Joni?”
She chose a foundation interested in ending childhood obesity, received a snide comment from Meg about how even her acts of kindness were vain, and you intervened before it became bigger than that. Meg chose an organization that works to stop childhood prostitution, Linda went for homeless youth, and Richard selected Make-A-Wish Foundation. Walt felt the need to sarcastically commend him for his originality.
“Enough,” you said before Richard could respond. “My dearest Ransom, what have you chosen?”
He smiled at you. “Animal Legal Defense Fund. Their tagline is: all our clients are innocent.”
You nodded. “They are. All animals are innocent.”
Linda rolled her eyes. “Can we move on?”
“Okay, mine is—”
“I can’t believe you don’t have a problem that she’s basically brainwashing our son,” Linda interrupted, turning to Richard.
“Linda, please,” Richard sighed.
“My charity,” you spoke loudly, gaining their attention once more, “Is Planned Parenthood.”
“Are you out of your mind?” she demanded. “You want to donate your money to abortions?”
You glared. “That’s not all Planned Parenthood does, but…yes, I do. Babies suck, if a woman doesn’t want to have it, she doesn’t have to.”
Joni nodded. “I agree, completely. I’ve been learning in my group about how we are only placed on this earth to offer up our vibrations to one another. Our obligations do not exceed that. We don’t have to be anything! Not a mother, not a wife—”
“Oh, shut up!” Linda barked.
“Mother, calm down,” Ransom dismissed. “I don’t believe for a second any of you have not either had an abortion or been an accessory to one in the past.”
“I would never!” she gasped, pointing a finger at him. “And you better not ever let her!”
“Yeah, don’t worry about that happening. I’ve been thinking about eliminating that possibility, surgically—”
Linda’s mouth dropped.
This was, of course, untrue. Ransom would, first, never sacrifice any part of himself for that reason. Second, the matter had not been discussed yet. You guys weren’t even thinking about marriage, so of course, children weren’t being brought up. But that morning, Ransom woke up in the mood for chaos, and maybe you sort of did, too.
“I wanted a second child,” she told Richard, “You said to stop after Ransom because he was “perfect”.”
“I did say that,” he muttered to himself, a look of pure regret on his face.
You smiled at Ransom. “You are perfect.”
He kissed you, gaining disapproving noises from most of the table.
“I will never be a grandmother!” Linda yelled, burying her hands in her hair and resting her shoulders on the table.
You glanced at Ransom.
He nodded toward the kitchen. “Now that that’s done, let’s start cooking.”
Joni and Meg were currently searching the entire house for the Christmas decorations. They always ended up getting put in the strangest places and since you and Ransom had moved in and not known where they were, you moved basically everything. It was possible that you were going to have to make do with the decorations you and Ransom had been using for the past five years at his house.
You had, however, purchased a lot of lights because the Thrombeys loved their blue lights. Tacky, you wanted the yellow lights and made sure to buy enough that even a single blue light needed to be on that house. Ransom was excitedly awaiting his mother’s reaction to that.
Every year, Richard and Walt would put lights on the house while the dinner was cooking. Ransom should have helped but no one actually thought Ransom would lift a finger, so no one wasted their breath. He was only helping you cook because, as mentioned, he was pretending to be a good boyfriend.
But he was a monster, a true monster that was currently squashing even more of your dreams. “The answer isn’t just no, it’s fuck no.”
You glared. “I wasn’t asking for permission.”
“You asked if it was a good idea.”
“I think it is.”
“Then why did you ask me at all?”
“Because I thought you would be nice for a second, just a second, Ransom. I’m not asking for a lot.”
“We are not getting Jacob a dog.”
“Why not?”
“Because I hate dogs.”
“Well, I hate you,” you hissed.
He rolled his eyes. “Enough of the dramatics. This day is tiring enough already—”
“We’ll get him a small one, it doesn’t need to be those huge horses your mother calls dogs. A chihuahua, maybe. A Pomeranian, a dachshund—”
“Absolutely not, we already have Joni here, I don’t want some yappy animal—”
“Ransom!” you whined. “If we get him a dog, he might not become a serial killer.”
“He already is a serial killer, love, these are just the early years when he’s finding himself. The answer is still no.”
“Ugh, fine, can you just make the pie crusts, please?”
“How many?”
“Three.”
“Three? For what?”
“Pumpkin, apple, pecan, Ransom. The same things your family has served every single year I’ve been here, and presumably, all the ones before that.”
“Ugh.” He stood at the counter reading the recipe, muttering his disapproval, up until he saw the ingredients on the counter. “What is all of this?”
“Um, you know that recipe in your hand? The final product doesn’t just appear.”
“No, what is all of this…gluten-free flour, oat flour? Where’s the normal flour?”
“That is normal flour, Ransom.”
“No,” he argued. “No, it’s not.”
“It’s normal to some people,” you countered. “And this year, it’s normal to us. Joni went out and bought the groceries. If you wanted something, you could have done it yourself.”
“You wouldn’t let me leave the house! You kept saying I was going to get sick and die.”
“You could have ordered them!”
“You can’t be serious. On top of this dreadful year, you’re trying to make us eat healthy food on Thanksgiving?”
“Ransom, make the pie crusts!”
It was silent for several minutes, probably because you were using the mixer to make the pumpkin filling. As soon as it was off, Ransom was acting like you’d asked him to perform surgery.
“What does toss mean?”
“What?”
“It says to toss the ingredients.”
“Um, like, stir, I guess.”
“You guess or you know?”
“Just fucking stir, Ransom. I make pies all the time.”
He huffed. “No, oh, no. No, this is telling me to touch things with my hands, that’s disgusting and I’m not doing that.”
You turned back, eyes wide. “Ransom!”
“I’m not touching butter with my hands!”
“What is wrong with you!? It’s cooking, you have to use your hands to cook!”
“I don’t like touching butter!”
“How would you know? You’ve never cooked a day in your life!”
“I’m not touching it,” he claimed.
You took a slow breath in and released it while counting to ten. “Then switch with me and make the apple pie filling.”
“Great.” He walked to your counter as you walked to his. “What is this? What’s in this bowl?”
“The pumpkin pie filling. Cover it and put it in the refrigerator. That’s where the apples are.”
His next question came after he pulled out the bag of apples. “These?”
You turned back, blinking. “Yes, Ransom, those are apples.”
“I have to cut them?”
“And peel them.”
“That’s going to take forever.”
“Ransom, I’m about to smack you.”
“This is a lot!” he pointed out. “Why are we the only people cooking?”
“We’re not, not anymore,” you decided. “Get out, you can go help your father and Walt with the Christmas lights.”
“And you’re going to cook alone?”
“I basically already am.” You turned around to walk to the sink to wash your hands. Unlike Ransom, you weren’t making one pie crust at a time, and you would only need to do this once. When you turned around, you knew Ransom was behind you, but you had no idea what he was doing.
You only saw how close he was when you felt something wet and cold against the side of your face. Whatever it was, he dragged it all the way to the opposite cheek. You smelled and tasted the frosting that you had made for the sugar cookies.
He peeled the frosted star-shaped cookie off your skin and ate one of the corners. “Your blood-sugar seemed low, I thought I’d help.”
You tore the cookie out of his hand and shoved it directly in his face.
He scattered back, eyes wide in shock—as if he expected anything less? “What is wrong with you?!”
You grabbed the retractable faucet from the sink and turned the water on.
“Do not!”
It was a warning you ignored. Within seconds, he was slipping along the kitchen floor, rushing back to you to get the faucet out of your hands. As soon as he had it, he turned it on you, and you screamed like a cat about to be thrown in a bathtub.
“Stop it!” you ordered. “You are ruining Thanksgiving!”
“You’re ruining it!”
You elbowed him hard enough that he dropped the faucet, then kicked your heels off to run to the counter with the cookies and frosting.
“Don’t you dare!” He rushed after you and wrestled the cookie out of your hand, ultimately crushing it into crumbs that scattered all over the counter and the floor.
You shoved your opposite hand into one of the bowls of frosting, whipping around to place your hand on his face.
“What the fuck?!” But he leaned down, clearly uninterested in an answer, and pressed his face into your hair.
“My hair?!” you shrieked. “I’m going to kill you!”
There were several sets of steps that you both heard, but neither of you wanted to let the other get the upper hand. When the family finally found you, you had slipped, ended up on your ass, and Ransom was holding you down, claiming that you caused too many problems when you were on your feet.
“What the hell is going on?!” Joni questioned.
“Ransom, get off of her!” Meg pushed her way between the two of you, pulling you onto your feet. “Oh, my god, what is going on? Are you okay?”
Well, you were both soaking wet, layered in frosting, furiously trying to get another cookie to throw at the other. Were you okay? Only physically. Mentally, you weren’t sure either one of you was ever on solid ground there.
“Enough!” Linda yelled. “What is this insanity!? We need to be eating in less than an hour and as per usual, you two can’t go five minutes without fighting! That’s it, everyone get out of this kitchen! This is why I cook, this is why I do everything! I’m the only one that can!”
She turned away to open the door to usher everyone out and you took your chance to get some type of retaliation that you had been longing for since before the damn stay-at-home order.
You were able to reach for a cookie before either Meg or Ransom could stop you, and no one had ever dreamed your target would be Linda, so for a detrimental moment, their reactions were nonexistent. Essentially, everyone could only stare in pure horror as they realized the cookie was darting straight for the back of Linda’s head. Which, in your defense, wasn’t your exact intention. You thought her back, not her head…but well, there was a reason you weren’t a professional athlete.
Gasps filled the room as soon as the cookie contacted Linda’s head, then again when it fell to the floor. Linda slowly turned, eyes wide, jaw set, shoulders tense—that must be where Ransom got it.
“This is my house,” you reminded. “You do not get to order me out of my kitchen!”
She looked at Ransom, silently urging him to make his alliance known right then. Before he had to say anything, yelling sounded from outside the house. Walt and Richard had yet to finish the one job they had, everyone figured that was the cause of the disturbance.
Quickly, you all made your way out to the front of the house. Richard had his leg wrapped up in a mess of lights and was hanging from the edge of the house. The same vines of lights were also wound around Walt, who was hanging onto the house for dear life.
“Oh, my god!” Donna yelled. “Oh, my god!”
“Are you serious?” Linda demanded. “There is a pandemic! You guys seriously want to end up in the god damn hospital during a pandemic?”
Joni sighed in utter frustration. “Walt, just hang on. We’ll get Richard down—”
“Oh, my god!” Donna continued, despite the lack of panic coming from literally every other single person present. Even Walt seemed less alarmed than her. She started running to Richard and on any other day, it would have been an effortless plan of action. On this day, that Massachusetts had just seen a hell of a lot of snow, when the pavement was dangerously icy, she fell.
Meg screamed. “Oh, my god, I’m calling Dr. Fields!”
“He’s a doctor!” Joni pointed out. “A physical doctor—he won’t know how to deal with this sheer stupidity unless someone broke a bone!”
Donna, now over her initial shock, was attempting to get up.
“Donna, I think you’re hurt,” Meg said. “Just stay—”
Jacob was cautiously moving closer to her, directing her to stay put when Walt had finally lost his battle with the house. His hands slipped off and he went sliding down the edge of the roof. Richard hit the floor first, eliciting more screams from Meg and Donna, and then Walt followed onto several snow-covered bushes, and everyone lost their minds.
“I’m calling Dr. Fields! I am fucking calling Dr. Fields right now!” Meg repeated, shaking so much she could hardly get the phone out of her pocket, let alone find which one she had placed it in.
Joni began making her way through the snow to check if Richard was okay.”
“Oh, my god!” Donna was still repeating.
“Mom, just stay down,” Jacob said.
“Jesus,” Ransom snapped. “How hard is it to put these god damn lights on this god damn house?” He was following Joni, confident in the theory that his father was simply being dramatic. Walt, on the other hand, might have needed medical attention.
Meg watched her feet as she was walking back inside. “Dr. Fields, we have a serious emergency right now. I think everyone’s dying!”
Ransom and Joni were helping Richard sit up when he turned back to you. “Hey, get inside, you’re wet and going to get sick.”
He had a point, so without argument, you turned to do so. You felt the boniest of hands on your shoulders before you were shoved down face-first into the snow.
That was when Joni started screaming. “Oh, my god, call the police! She’s going to kill her. Meg, call the police!”
Meg ran out of the house and saw what was happening and once again, started to panic. “Dr. Fields, you need to get here immediately!”
Before you even fully processed what had happened, Linda was on top of you turning you onto your back.
“You stole my house!” she screeched.
“Linda!” Richard scolded.
You saw her hands go for your throat—later, everyone would claim she was probably doing something else, she obviously wasn’t going to choke you. You did the only thing you could think to do, you grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it in her face.
She toppled over and you made your way on top of her. You weren’t going to hit your boyfriend’s mother, but you did proceed to throw snow in her face until Ransom had gotten you off her.
The grand total of injuries was seven. Yet, the total of injuries that had occurred directly in the incident was five. Donna had a bruised tailbone, Richard had a broken leg, Walt had a sprained wrist, your knee was cut up fairly terribly since you fell on it when Linda pushed you, and Linda had stitches on her cheek because the first time you threw snow at her, there was a huge block of ice that you weren’t aware of. After Richard pointed out that you hadn’t started the altercation, she punched him, and he now had a swollen eye. After Ransom had gotten you inside, Meg, in her state of panic, hadn’t seen the door was shut and walked straight into it, and her nose was broken.
You weren’t sure how this family had managed more disaster with nearly 300 fewer people, but there you were. Ransom had forced you into the shower to get all the frosting out of your hair and to hopefully prevent the cold he suspected you were going to catch given the tiny outfit you were parading around in outside.
He lured you out of the shower with a mug of hot chocolate. Every space heater in the house was gathered in your bedroom and as soon as you were in his reach, Ransom wrapped you up in at least three heavy blankets.
When he sat you down on the bed, he pulled your leg out so he could tend to your knee. You felt like a child with him sat next to you with a first aid kit, too-delicately prodding at your irritated, aching skin. He was babying you.
You didn’t feel guilty for what you had done to Linda, but you did hate that Ransom was in the middle. “I’m s—”
He held his hand up to you. “Don’t.”
“But—”
He turned up to you. “Babe, she attacked you.”
“I…threw a cookie at her.”
He snorted. “Yeah, that was a little crazy.”
“I am sorry,” you huffed. “We said we weren’t going to let them bother us today.”
“You finally told her this was your house. I’ve wanted that since we first moved in. I know what we said, but all in all, I think we gained more than we lost.”
“What did we gain, Ransom?”
“Well, she knows you’re scrappy so she might think twice before pushing you again.”
You rolled your eyes. “Anything else?”
“Everyone is going to be preoccupied taking care of each other, Joni doting on Meg, my mom basically doing everything for my dad, Walt and Donna being overly protective of one another…”
“So, we can have sex in the kitchen and there’s a higher chance we won’t get caught?”
“That was exactly what I was thinking.”
You shrugged. “If we got Jacob a dog—”
“You know what?” he cut in. “Get out of these blankets, I haven’t spanked you in a long time even though you’ve deserved it about five times over by now.”
He made a show of attempting to get you out of the blankets even though you both knew he wouldn’t do it. You laughed the entire time until Ransom laid himself out on top of you, uncaring about how heavy he was.
“Is everyone okay?”
“They’ll live.”
“Well, I know Meg will—she’s going to get a nose job.”
He snorted, rolling his eyes. “You are just going to have to live vicariously through her.”
“We kinda ruined Thanksgiving dinner.”
“I did not,” he argued. “The turkey is almost done, the pies are in the other oven, also almost done—”
“All three?”
He nodded. “Yep. Jacob, believe it or not, was happy to peel and cut the apples.”
You rolled your eyes. “I swear, Ransom.”
“As soon as everyone stops acting like they’re dying, we’ll be able to sit down…well, Donna might not be able to sit down.”
You laughed. “Your family is insane.”
“And clearly, you fit right in.”
“Clearly,” you muttered. Unfortunately.
Christmas Eve:
Sometimes, you wished that you had listened to him when he said this wasn’t happening. Because then you wouldn’t have needed to worry about so many god damn people! It would just be you and Ransom in absolute seclusion, but no. No, you would never have it so easy during this fucking holiday.
How difficult was it to pick up the presents that you had ordered? You picked them out, you organized it all, you had only asked Ransom to drive to a single location and obtain them for you. Why hadn’t he? Because he was sleeping at 2 in the afternoon.
What did you have for Jacob? Not a damn thing. You had no presents for the teenage delinquent you were terrified of. You weren’t family, he was going to store you away in the basement and torture you until he got bored. Ransom probably wouldn’t even realize you had been missing until Jacob placed your body parts all over the house. And three of Meg’s presents were also missing, you knew Linda was going to make another comment.
You would hit her with more ice. After you strangled her son, of course, who was currently hot helping in any way at all.
“Ransom, put your fucking drink down and hand me the tape!”
“Are your fucking hands broken?!”
“I’m holding the box!”
He slammed his drink down on the bedside table and angrily stormed his way to where you were surrounded by boxes, wrapping paper, and a million other things he wasn’t even aware you’d spent money on. This was too much for his family and he was just waiting for you to realize that they were nowhere near worth the effort you constantly put in.
Ransom picked up the tape, tore a piece off, and placed it between where your fingers were resting on the box.
“Thank you so much,” you responded, pure sarcasm.
And god damn, he had had enough of your fucking tone. “You are driving me insane!”
“I’m driving you insane?! Your family has been ruing my whole fucking life since March!”
“I didn’t want them here!”
“Well, I’m a human with actual empathy for others, so I logically knew that that was not an option!”
“You were going to leave my mother out of your precious sanctuary!”
“Because she’s abusive!” You shoved your hands into your hair and shook your head. “I’m done, absolutely done. I can’t have this conversation with you again. Your mother sucks, why is this news to you? I’m so sorry for trying to hold her accountable for her actions. Oh, but of course, every time someone tries to make any of you face the consequences for your actions, you act like it’s a hate crime!”
He glared. “I hate you.”
“I hate you!” you seethed.
“I can’t fucking believe I actually want to do this!” he turned away, scrubbing one of his hands down his face. “You make me so fucking crazy.”
“Do what?” you demanded. “What the hell are you talking about now? What god-awful thing have you decided to do?”
He made his way to the bed, tearing open the drawer to the bedside table on his side. He was muttering quickly under his breath and even if his speech hadn’t been so hurried, it was quiet enough that you had no chance of hearing anything.
It was silent for several moments before he turned back to you and threw something on the bed. He gestured to it then crossed his arms over his chest.
Since your bed was a mess of dark blankets, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to be seeing. You stood, carefully stepping your way out of the present-wrapping station you had created and neared the bed. You stopped dead in your tracks when you saw a tiny black box against the mattress.
You looked back at him, eyes wide, pleading. No…no, that was not happening. He wasn’t actually…
“Marry me.”
“What?!”
He actually seemed surprised by your reaction. He leaned over, snatched the box off the bed, and stomped back to you. “Marry me.”
“You’ve lost it,” you accused. “You’re actually literally insane. You need to be committed!”
“Yes, it’s insane that I want to marry you but for some fucking reason, I do!”
“Oh, my god, Ransom!” You slapped the box out of his hands and that was just too much for him. “I’m not fucking marrying you, you’ve never even told me you love me!”
He hurriedly picked up the box, tossed it back onto the bed, and then grabbed you by your arms. “You’re seriously fucking bringing that up now?”
“What does that even mean?! Yes, I’m bringing it up now. You marry someone when you’re in love with them and since you haven’t said it after seven years, I understandably doubt your feelings for me.”
“You are such a fucking brat.”
“You’re a brat!” you yelled, more exasperated than you’d ever felt. “You’re such a fucking entitled brat! There’s no other way to describe you. You just think I’m going to say yes and give you everything you want when you can’t even say you love me!”
“This is absolutely fucking ridiculous.”
“Just fucking say it, Ransom! If you love me, just say it!”
“You will not bully me into saying something that I don’t even deem as important.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Love is a word! Okay? It means nothing. My parents fucking say they love each other, then my dad fucked someone else. Neal and Joni said they loved each other every god damn second that they could but guess what. He still died. And don’t even get me started on Walt and Donna, their “love” created the next great serial killer of this wonderful fucking country!”
You were speechless, Ransom never talked to you like this. He never brought up the fucked-up aspects of his family that had consequently fucked him up as well.
He finally let you go when he realized you weren’t going to say anything, turning to walk away. You startled when he banged his hand against the wall. “God damn it!”
“Why do you make me say it to you then?” you demanded.
“I don’t know!” he admitted.
Again, you were both silent. You were thinking of the best way to respond, and you certainly couldn’t come up with that, but you knew what you wanted to say. “I’m not marrying you.”
He laughed.
It was a terrifying sound that gave you chills. He was going to kill you, you were 90% sure. As soon as he started walking toward you, you turned away to run to the bathroom, but Ransom had always known that would be your plan.
He effortlessly caught you and dragged you back to the bed. He shoved you down, pinned your arms to the mattress to stop you from hitting him, and slid his hips between your legs to make it impossible to kick him. “You’re going to marry me.”
“You’re going to force me to marry you?”
“I’ll drag you to the fucking courthouse if I have to.”
“The courthouse?!”
“I want to give you a wedding, the obscenely priced, overly dramatic show that I know you want. But if you won’t say yes, you leave me no other option.”
You rolled your eyes. “Then I guess that’s what you’ll have to do because my answer is no.”
Luckily for him, your outfit was not overly complex. He knew you weren’t wearing anything under your skirt because his hand was between your legs for most of dinner that night. You didn’t let him make you come because you were throwing a temper tantrum over the situation with the presents, but he was evidently not deterred.
After he moved your wrists together and kept you held there, he used his free hand to get his pants out of the way. In seconds, he was fully inside you and was offering you no time to adjust.
You realized why when you felt his hands moving over your head. Turning up that way, you saw him fumbling with the box. He was going to put the ring on your finger, and you had the sinking suspicion you might not be able to part with it if you saw it. But no, this was not happening.
You managed to get one of your hands free and yanked on his hair.
He kissed you because he had nothing left to do but bite your lip. Hard. He didn’t even falter when you cried out.
He was the idiot who let you keep your shoes on and you were limited on where you could get your heel. You did yoga, but you weren’t some contortionist. You had one option, and that was stabbing your heel into the side of his ass, and it was completely his own fault.
Finally, he pulled away and was forced to let you on top, which was the only advantage you needed. You smacked the box off the bed. However, now that he wasn’t overly concerned with holding you to the bed, he could pull your hair until you relented and fell back onto the bed.
He rolled over several times until you were both on the very edge, managing to kick your heels off in the process. He never stopped driving his hips into you, knowing that the only advantage he had was how weak you always got for his cock.
You could hear him reaching around blindly on the floor but with each brush of his skin against your clit, you got less scared about the idea that he would get the ring on you. You knew you didn’t want it. You knew you didn’t want to marry him and there was no way in hell you would willingly say yes, but fuck, you wanted to come.
You touched the side of his face and he finally looked back at you.
“Say yes.”
“Fuck you.” You pulled him down, your lips meeting his. There was blood in the kiss and your lip was throbbing, but you couldn’t care. Not when he was fucking you this violently, this angrily. He’d never fucked you like this before. You were no stranger to Ransom being a cruel lover, but there had never been so much pure wrath.
He had located the box, you could tell when his fingernails stopped clicking against the hardwood floor. You were panicking, not fully thinking through your plans, you just knew you needed to be able to reach the box. You threw all your weight at him and he was barely balanced as it was.
Despite his anger, he still had more of a mind than you—probably because he wanted something out of this, he needed to be mindful to get his way. He basically let you throw him on the floor because he worried about the results if he managed to fall on you.
Instead of retaliating any further, you grabbed his hand and brought it down to your center. He needed no further prompt than that, his thumb began to circle your clit as his other hand grabbed your hip and moved you along the length of his cock.
Where was the box? On his chest, he set this there because he was the cockiest fucking asshole in the world. He saw you eyeing it and smirked. “Go ahead, baby, take it, but you know I’ll fucking stop.”
That was unimaginable. Both hands reached for the one he had on your hip. You continued rolling your hips like it was the last time you were ever going to get to, dragging his hand up to your mouth.
“I swear if you fucking bite me,” he warned.
No, you weren’t going to do that. Yet. You choked yourself on his fingers, stifling all the pathetic sounds that were spilling out from you. Ransom simply enjoyed the show, enjoyed you fucking yourself on his cock, enjoyed you staring at him with those smoky, delicate eyes as you sucked on his fingers.
He stopped touching your clit once he felt you coming. He used that hand to hold you up on your knees and thrust his hips into you punishingly. You were dizzy, disastrously satiated and overstimulated. He finished with a shaking moan, a tell that he was trying to be quiet.
It wasn’t late, the family was undoubtedly aware of what was going on.
He turned down, staring at the place you were still connected. Ransom waited until his cum was spilling out of you and then yanked you back down to take his entire length. If there was anything that Ransom did love in this world it was filling you with his cum and watching it slowly pour out.
You only allowed him to do this several times before you finally bit down on his fingers. His hand lifted from your hip and tore your hair back hard enough that you opened your mouth to yell at him. When he could pull his fingers from your mouth, he wrapped that hand around your neck and pulled you flat down, your chest to his, the ring box trapped between you and him, digging painfully into your ribs.
He slammed you into the wall and you brought your legs up to hook around his waist. “Sorry, daddy, I didn’t mean to bite you.”
“After I get this ring on you, I’m gonna make you call your parents and tell them we’re engaged. And I’m gonna fuck you and make you call me daddy, just to remind your father how much of a daddy’s girl you used to be.”
“Why call when you could Facetime?”
“Then I’m gonna have you choking on my cock, baby, all they need to see is the ring on your finger.” The hand in your hair wedged its way between you and him and he located your clit once more.
It was too much but you knew Ransom wasn’t going to care. Begging him to stop would just provide him enjoyment and that was the last thing you wanted him to have. He kept his other hand around your neck because he knew you would say something that would annoy the fuck out of him if he let you.
When you were coming, his hips were moving once more and his hand abandoned your clit to move the box. You felt it sliding along your skin until it was gone and then you realized he wasn’t holding your neck anymore. He had your left hand held clutched in his and you felt the cold band he was sliding onto your finger.
You couldn’t do much, you had lost and you knew it. But you could leave a few more marks on him, so you latched your free hand onto his shoulder and dragged your nails down his back, and you bit down on his shoulder harder than you probably should have. He was a fucking animal, it seemed like he didn’t care at all. He just wanted to get the ring on you, and once he had, he grabbed your face and shoved you back.
You knew he was trying to get you to look at the ring, but you refused. Your eyes were slammed shut and nothing was going to change that.
He walked you to the bathroom, pulling out to bend you over the counter because he knew you would instinctually lift both hands up to the edge. Once you had, he shoved his cock back inside you and grabbed your jaw to angle your face in the direction of your left hand. “Look at it.”
“Fuck. You!” you growled.
He smacked your ass and even though you shrieked like he was murdering you, you did not open your eyes. He repeated this several times until his own hand was stinging almost unbearably. New plan.
He used his feet to kick your legs apart further and you felt a sharp, sudden slap against your cunt. Your eyes snapped open and a scream tore from your throat. He almost felt bad until he saw your attention on the ring. Was he an ass? Yes. But had he won? Also, yes.
That fucking asshole. His hand dropped to rub over your aching pussy, cock still moving at a painfully fast pace. Ransom was fucking furious and the only way he could take it out on you was by fucking you this way.
You couldn’t say you had any complaints about it. Tomorrow, when you were pretending you couldn’t stand to look at him, you would be bruised and sore everywhere that he had touched you. You would be wet all day thinking about how it happened.
The fucking ring. A huge cushion-cut diamond set in a halo on top of a diamond-encrusted band. It wasn’t simple, it sounded like it, but there was something so beautiful about it. Fuck, you wouldn’t let this ring go unless you were dead. Because he was right. You liked money and diamonds and you were materialistic, and this was from Ransom and you loved everything he gave you. And at the end of it all, even though you were saying no to him, he shoved that ring onto your finger because you were his and that was never going to change.
“Say yes.”
“No.”
“Fine.” He reached for your hand but stopped when he saw you make a fist.
“Try to take this ring from me and I will fucking kill you, Ransom.”
He scoffed. “Great, I’m gonna get my phone to Facetime your parents.”
You rolled your eyes. “Fuck you.”
“Not yet,” he pointed out. “First, I need to fuck your mouth, but then—”
From outside, the dogs started to bark.
You let your head fall onto the counter and groaned. “I fucking swear, every fucking time we’re fucking—”
He pulled out and rushed from the bathroom.
“Hey!” you called out. “What the hell?”
“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered to himself as he searched for where he’d thrown his pants. When had he even gotten them off?
“Ransom?”
“Wait there,” he directed and then he dashed out of the room.
“Excuse you!” It wasn’t like you had much of an option, your legs weren’t working yet, and you were sweating and gross, and bruised and your lip was swollen and clearly bitten.
After several moments, he hadn’t come back. What the hell was he up to? You winced and hummed, made any noise that made you feel slightly better, as you tiptoed around the room looking for something to put on. You settled on one of his shirts and slowly, pathetically made your way downstairs. “Ransom?”
No response.
“Hello, anyone?” If someone else was around, you could force them to look for your boyfriend instead of having to do so yourself. But it seemed that you were out of luck on that.
The dogs were still barking like crazy, but why was no one else reacting? And why did Ransom care? He never paid attention to the dogs. You followed the sound of their barking, they had moved from the backyard to the side of the house. Which was odd because they never went there.
The garage? Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard Linda complaining about something, being constantly interrupted by Joni, Walt, and Ransom. Okay, again, unusual. He tended to ignore his mother, not argue with her.
His eyes widened when he saw you in the doorway. “No, no, this has to stop. I need everyone out of this room.”
“What the hell is going on?” you questioned.
“We don’t want to alarm you,” Donna began, “But—”
“Pretty sure he has drugs,” Meg claimed. “Like, hardcore drugs. Heroin, probably.”
Your eyes widened at him.
He glared. “I don’t have drugs, don’t be ridiculous.”
You gasped, pointing in the direction of the dogs still barking outside. “Those are German Shepherds, they’re drug dogs!”
Meg gasped, nodding at you with wide eyes. “I’m calling the cops.”
“Knock it off,” Linda scolded. “Ransom, show us what you’re hiding right now, or we’ll tear this room apart.”
He rolled his eyes, storming over to the corner of the room where a sheet was laid over something. “Fine, merry fucking Christmas.” He yanked it off one of the old kennels Linda used for her dogs when they were being trained.
There was a long list of things you were suspecting to see. Three sleeping puppies? No, they were nowhere on the list. And then you realized that was why he hadn’t gone to pick up Jacob’s present.
“You got me more puppies?” Linda inquired.
You, along with most of the room, glared at her.
“No,” Ransom snapped. “One is for Jacob and one’s for Meg.”
Both Jacob and Meg excitedly ran to the cage, startling the puppies awake. Much to Ransom’s dismay, the baby talk began without a second thought and the puppies were whining and making those small noises that always irritated him.
One for Jacob. One for Jacob. Then…the third. Oh, god.
He turned to you with a sigh.
“Yes,” you said, “Yes, yes, a million times yes!” You ran across the room, ignoring all your aching limbs and threw yourself into his arms. “And I’ll stop being so mean to you, and if you want to do this at the courthouse, I won’t even be upset because you’re so good to me and I’m awful to you. I’m sorry!”
“It’s okay,” he assured.
“No,” you protested. “It’s a million times not okay! I’m so sorry.” You pulled back to touch his face. “I’m really, really sorry. But I’m going to be the best wife in the world—”
“What?” Joni cut in.
That was the only thing in the world that could have drawn attention away from the puppies.
“Wife?” Linda repeated.
You checked with Ransom and he nodded. He had been looking forward to this. All you had to do was hold out your hand and Joni and Meg were excitedly shrieking. There hadn’t been a wedding in the family in so long.
“Wow,” Walt said. “Ransom? Engaged, showing commitment? This is the strangest year I’ve ever lived.”
Ransom rolled his eyes.
Before another word could be said, Linda collapsed onto the floor. Richard and Walt were the only ones who felt alarmed at the situation, while everyone else moved in closer to see the puppies.
“Which one is ours?” you wondered.
“Yours,” he corrected. “And the blonde one. She was the least yappy I could find on such short notice.”
Your eyebrows pulled together. “Where did you go?”
“The pound, obviously.”
“I fucking love you,” you blurted out, grabbing his face to pull him down into a kiss.
Once again, the room echoed with disgusted sounds.
“Which one’s mine?” Meg wondered.
“I couldn’t care less,” he admitted.
“I’m gonna name mine Hugh,” Jacob announced.
Ransom gave you an expectant look.
“I love you?” you tried.
“Gonna need a lot more than that.” He picked you up and because you knew Ransom wasn’t going to accept any kind of attitude from you for a very long time, you hooked your legs and arms around him and willingly went.
“I’ll take care of your dog until you guys are done being gross!” Meg promised.
chris tags:
@onetwo3000 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @donutloverxo @kleohoneyao3 @cevans-fics
ransom tags:
@la-cey
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❁ every 12.30 pm
➳ timeskip!sugawara x reader oneshot
➵ fluff, heart-warming, cute kids
✿ you found a cute teacher in your niece’s school, so maybe picking up a kid from school everyday isn’t such a bad idea.
❀ // hi! i’ve been gone for so long and finally i finished this after weeks of letting it rot in my drafts,, i don’t wanna delete this bc it feels like i’ll foresaken my angel Suga so here i hope you all enjoy my first oneshot :>
word count // 3,257
of all days, you picked this day as the day to slack off.
there was no reason to doll up, you reasoned. this was your rest day. no plans were made and no places you needed to go, so you went and picked up your sister’s kid wearing your house clothes.
no biggie. a few blocks distance wouldn’t hurt your sense of insecurity. a kindergartener’s teacher also wouldn’t possibly judge how you look when you’re only out to pick a kid up from school.
today, however, was different.
everything became instinct. your fingers went up the center of your jacket, to zip it up entirely. your hands then reached down to your sweatpants, checking if you were wearing it the right way. to your hair, if there are hair strands that are where they’re supposed to be. everything became instinct so you don’t look so much like a mess
in front of this fine preschool teacher.
“i’m Futaba’s guardian.”
your throat let out the softest, shyest voice you could ever project. you found yourself shamelessly, and instinctively, acting cute in front of this fine preschool teacher.
how else were you supposed to react? his beautiful gray hair enticed you, with a fringe softly parted on the center of his forehead. his porcelain skin that put Snow White to shame, his round, brown eyes that reflected every star in the galaxy, and his smile that could win a boxing match against the sun. not to mention, the mole under his left eye definitely hit the mark.
“good afternoon, Futaba’s guardian-san.”
hearing his voice for the first time, you’re decided. it was a crush.
perhaps it was superficial of you. you claim to fall for a guy you don’t know only for the fact you found him cute. you thought looking at him, admiring him like this was enough however when his angelic smile brightened at the sight of the children waving bye-bye to him and him waving bye-bye back. when he went down on one knee in front of your sister’s daughter, politely asking her she has to stop playing with her classmates because you have come to bring her home. when Futaba spread her arms and wrapped them around his neck, telling him a lispy see you tomorrow.
how dare you face someone like him looking like this.
on the way home, you were dead-set on asking your sister to let you bring your niece home every schoolday. seeing him once was not enough. something about him gravitated you to wanting to see more of him.
you remember the name written on his nametag when you caught the last glimpse of him.
“Sugawara”
his name reminded you of grass fields, as it is what it meant. it was perfect for him. the aura he emitted was rather calming. people must like having him around for he’s a breath of fresh air. he really was a perfect kindergarten teacher.
“how was school, Futaba?”
your niece skipped as she walked, visibly excited to talk about her day. “it was really fun! my classmates and i had a tea party earlier! Futaba almost spilled the cup because it was too hot.”
“what about your teachers?” you wanted to smack yourself for squeezing information about a guy from your 5-year-old niece. it is a desperate move however, which else choice do you have?
“ah! Sugawara-sensei read us a beanstalk story before nappy time.” Futaba put a finger on her chin as if to think about what else happened. she had no idea how hooked she got you to listen to her story. “then, then Sugawara-sensei helped Futaba with her clay family!”
you then considered yourself lucky.
“do you like Sugawara-sensei?”
and pushed the topic about the man further, seeing the sparkles in your niece’s eyes and how she skipped even happier. “yes! yes! Futaba’s favorite teacher is Sugawara-sensei,” she declared and continued shyly. “he helped Futaba talk to her crush Kaito-kun.”
when you said you were dead-set, you are dead-set for real. what’s there to lose? kids love him, including your own niece. he’s beautiful. he has a gentle voice. he probably smells like daisies. you just have to befriend him and get to know about him some more before introducing him to your parents-
as a friend.
right?
“for what? did you find a cute guy there or something?”
it sucked your sister knew you too well.
that day, you invited yourself in your sister’s room the second she got home from work. the sly yet desperate move visibly annoyed the older so much that she knew you had something up your sleeve to even dare show up in her room.
“no. just that, it’s a good way to take breaks from the café. plus, i get to hang out with Futaba.” you explained as simply as you could, even though your sister literally can see right through your lies.
she hummed and replied with, “you never get out of the house unless it’s absolutely necessary. when i asked you to take Futaba home from school yesterday, you hated it because your break time from café is ruined. please. find someone else to fool, y/n.”
you soon admit that you truly are dumb. that, however, did not stop you from redeeming yourself to your sister; that being telling the truth and not exactly redeeming anything. you told her the man you set your eyes on in Futaba’s school. you jokingly told her it was love at first sight even though you never believed of something as ridiculous as such.
besides, your sister has no room to reject. you aimed at two birds with one stone. not only do you get to see more of the guy, but you will do your sister a favor of taking care of her daughter for free.
she sighed, finding no way to deny this. “i hate to say it but your timing is too good. i was thinking of finding a babysitter for Futaba since both of us are busy. but if you insist, who am i to decline?”
so this side job began the following day.
thirty minutes spared during your break before you engage yourself to war. you decided to spend those thirty minutes to rearrange yourself. you would rather not switch into your house clothes like you did yesterday, would you? this time, you chose carefully. you didn’t want to look like a floor rag but you didn’t want to look like you went there to go on a date either. even to contemplate whether or not you must add a little more blush on your cheeks to look lively.
you changed into a casual fit. a plain shirt, denim shorts and a pair of slip-on sandals. it was an attempt to not look like you were trying too hard. not with those clean ponytail and tinted lips.
“good afternoon, i’m Futaba’s guardian.” you told yourself a good job that you remembered to greet today.
but Sugawara wasn’t the one you directed that to.
he wasn’t around. you sneaked glances left and right to see if he was playing together with the other kids, but alas.
you walked home with Futaba, holding her hand. you try to match the child’s mood as she was very elated to talk about her day. on the other hand, you; Sugawara could have been busy. you can still see him again the following day.
the following days, you lessened your get up from your first attempt. he was present, but the greetings were the same as first day you met.
what the hell are you supposed to do now? do you start conversations? well, of course, you told yourself, since you’re the one who wants something from him. but how? what should you talk about? your day? his day? the kids? his job? what?
“thank you for taking care of Futaba.”
“hm? it is my job though.”
there goes your little motivation to initiate conversations with people you’re interested in.
you hear him chuckle at you, which added to the embarrassment you had from your statement alone.
today was parents’ day. the kids were asked to bring their parents to school to have a little meeting with the rest of the class. it worried you that Futaba only had you as her guardian to go with her, not her mother, but you see the kid in her high spirits since this morning you didn’t want to ruin that for her and apologize on her mother’s behalf.
you think this as you lean against the wall at the corner, until you notice Sugawara stood beside you. so much so, you spoke absent-mindedly.
you should have kept your mouth shut.
“is Futaba’s mother doing okay? we haven’t seen her since a week ago.”
or maybe you don’t have to keep your mouth shut after all. you turned to him, stunned. like, goodness, he’s starting a topic with you himself. how can you not be stunned.
“o sorry. is it a sensitive topic? i’m sorry-”
“no!” you said audibly. too audibly. you clamped your mouth, worried if you took the children’s attention away from the kids who are presenting in front. you continued in a whisper, while he still chuckled at you, “Futaba’s mom recently switched work schedules that clashes together with the kid’s school. she wasn’t allowed to take a leave today, so i’m here in her place.”
geez, were you talking too much?
“i see.”
you probably were talking too much.
“you two are siblings, no?”
“uh, yeah. we are.”
he nodded to himself, turning to the kids presenting again. a silent heave of relief escaped you while you leaned comfortably against the wall again. guess that was enough interaction for the day.
“i guess, we’ll keep seeing Futaba’s guardian-san from now on.” he gave you a gentle smile, leaning a bit closer to you from the half-feet distance.
“you don’t have to keep calling me that.”
“my apologies. what should i call you?”
“y/n.”
“y/n-san then.”
he gave you one last boyish smile before walking off to his station.
hold up.
did he just come here to ask for your name? did he trick you into telling him your name?
you and Futaba went home happily. literally, the both of you had a great day in school. here, you were giggling like a kid who just got noticed by her crush. but you could be wrong. it’s only natural of a teacher to learn one of his student’s guardian’s name. he cannot be interested in you.
on the other hand, he did start a conversation with you.
don’t get ahead of yourself, you thought. you cannot help but still think about it.
the traffic lights flashed a green color.
days went on. you stayed as the one bringing your niece home safely every afternoon while the mother is busy. the relationship and trust you built with the child strengthened. your heart swell each time you see her jumping in joy whenever you show up after school. when you thought that alone will bring you happiness everyday, Sugawara greets you everyday with the same boyish smile.
each day pass, soon you become close friends. this made Futaba happy as you two are two of her favorite people.
until one day, the teacher called saying Futaba got sick.
worry engulfed you. you wondered what could’ve happened for the child to get sick, when she was fine earlier before her and her mother left together. could your sister not have noticed? or did it happen during school? more and more questions took shape as you frantically closed the café and ran to the school.
you rushed inside the nurse’s office, panting profusely. your eyes first caught your niece lying on the bed unconscious, and Sugawara sitting by the bed, placing a damp towel on her forehead.
“good morning, I’m Futaba’s guardian.”
Futaba’s teacher explained the situation to you. the kids were outside playing in the playground when Sugawara saw Futaba drenched in one hidden part of the garden. you see another kid standing beside the teacher. the kid gripped the hem of his shirt tightly as if he wanted to rip it off. the scowl on his face says enough of why he was here.
“i didn’t do it.”
the teacher continued, “ever since parent’s day, apparently some students have been picking on Futaba for not having her mother around.
“i’m terribly sorry. i’ve helped Futaba in ways i can. even i wanted to call you for this, but when i told Futaba i will, she begged me not to tell you because you and her mother are both busy with work.” she nudged the kid beside her, “isn’t there something you need to tell Futaba’s guardian?”
the kid averted his eyes. you figured there was no reason squeezing an apology from stubborn children like him. you kneeled before the kid to be at the same level as his eyes.
“what’s your name?”
he spent a few seconds quivering his lips before speaking, “Sora.”
“Sora,” you held his shoulder gently, looking into his eyes. “you’re very lucky to always have your mother by your side.”
tears formed in his innocent eyes.
you went on. “always remember to tell your mom that you love her, long as you still have her around, so she will stay. okay?” you finished, smiling at him as bright as you could.
Sora erupted into tears, storming off out of the nurse’s office and yelling his apology.
kids.
“i’m sorry i didn’t mean to make him cry.” you reasoned, when you know full well you did it on purpose to put that kid into a guilt trip for messing with your niece like this. the teacher said it was fine, that she could’ve done it the same thing but a different way.
ignoring that, you turned to Sugawara, who you forgot was there the whole time, “i’m sorry for the trouble. i’ll be taking her home now.”
“i can help you bring her home.”
Sugawara stood up from his seat. this startles you because you also forgot you had a crush on him. you try to decline his offer, reasoning that your house is nearby and that you can carry a kid no problem.
but the Futaba’s teacher helped insist, “Sugawara-sensei should help you look after Futaba… uh, y/n-san was it?” you nodded, dubiously. “it was also said by Futaba that you’re working alone in your house with no one to help you. so please.”
you couldn’t decline when you saw Sugawara already carrying the kid behind his back. so you went home together with him, big deal. you felt embarrassed after getting your background get found out like that. guess Futaba is too honest of a kid, but not honest enough to tell her family that she was bullied at school.
“here will do.”
the two of you finally stood in front of your father’s café. the walk was silent, but you believed it was enough interaction for the day once more.
“you weren’t kidding when you say it was nearby, huh?” he said, looking through the glass windows.
“well. yeah.”
“that’s too bad,” he says, still carrying the kid on his back. he looks back to you. the smile appears again, “aren’t you going to open the door?”
you unlocked the doors. then, it hit you. what did he mean by too bad?
after taking Futaba up to her room and tucking her in bed, you went back down to the café where you found Sugawara idling about. “you can rest yourself on one of the booths. let me brew a drink for you.” you took your apron and hurried behind the counter. meanwhile, the man stood up perhaps wanting to leave.
“oh, you don’t have to make me a drink. i should be leaving.”
this confused you. really, what was that too bad for?
“you went all the way to our café. it’s only natural i made a drink for you.” you try and justify yourself. also, you already pressed the espresso machine. there’s no reason to waste a cup of espresso.
“if so, must i stay?”
this was the second to the last straw.
you stood there, one hand holding the ice scooper and the other holding a grande-sized cup, while staring at him straight into his bright eyes. those orbs must be telling you something. there should be a secret hiding within those eyes. for example, an answer to his question.
“do you want to stay?” you first broke the gaze.
“i’m the one asking you, y/n,” he said with a chuckle.
once again, you hesitated. “sure.”
the café flooded with silence while you made an iced latte for him. you trailed your gaze to the top of his head as he sat on one of the booths. concerns arise from the pit of your mind. nothing seemed to be happening. then, what is he here for? if he stayed, what will happen? is this all on purpose? should you put your guards up?
are the green lights alit again?
you put the iced latte on his table when he spoke. “i’m quite worried about Futaba with what happened to her.”
“well, she did a good job hiding the truth from us.” you say as you sat across him. “she’s a strong kid. i’m more worried if she will continue hiding her pain from the people who care about her.”
maybe you shouldn’t start such a touchy subject like this, yea? Sugawara landed his eyes at you but you avoided it and stood up. you have no idea what’s going on. if anything, this is not the right context of when something will develop. both of you just brought home a sick kid, for Pete’s sake. must you really take advantage of this?
“anyway, i’ll tell my sister what happened. she can help Futaba better than i-”
“i wonder if i’ll still see you every afternoon.”
his honesty astounded you. Sugawara’s pale face flushed from shame. guess he didn’t mean to say that. this means, if you weren’t getting ahead of yourself again, it’s how he actually feels.
you tried to lessen his embarrassment, “of course you will, who else will pick Futaba up from school?” so you played dumb.
“if your sister knew about the situation, she might switch her schedule.”
what was he trying to say?
“she can’t do that easily, you know.”
“there will still be a possibility.” he rested his chin on his palm, smiling at you, “which reminds me, i have been looking for a part-time job around here. is your café looking for more workers?”
“you wanna work here?” you ask as you went and flip the sign to open, since you’re already back for work.
“sure,” he picked himself up from the booth and walked towards you. “but i think i should follow someone’s footsteps first and make an impression. you know, you’re going to be my boss. i should meet you with casual clothes, not with a track jacket, sweat pants and unkept hair. what do you think?”
you flipped the sign to close. “are you mocking someone here?”
he tried to not make himself laugh at you. “i’m just saying i shouldn’t half-ass it if i’m looking for another job, y/n.”
“doesn’t sound like you’re actually looking for another job though?”
“i’m not,” he admitted. “i’m only looking for a reason to see you more. every 12.30 pm isn’t enough.”
the traffic lights said go. it is now 12.31 pm.
#walk in my garden#flirty suga is canon for me#watch me flourish this hc#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyuu!! drabbles#haikyuu!! smau#haikyuu!! imagines#haikyuu!! headcanons#haikyuu!! x reader#sugawara#sugawara koushi#koushi sugawara#sugawara x reader#sugawara x y/n#karasuno
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explorers of arvus: heading back / 3.11.21
zoom and enhonse
LAST TIME ON ARVUS taure passed out and we are now down a healer! also we met a disciple of halvkar, and surprisingly did not murder her. this is fine. we have instantly gotten distracted by our various carts. cats. our various cats
DID ANY OF US CATCH TAURE, SHE FELL OVER sieron tried to catch her and smacked charlie+thorne in the face (he rolled a nat1, f) BUT the catboy is to the rescue bc silje is the designated Not Incompetent of the group today
CONSULT THE CHILD hewwo yrel
yrel: her mind is being consumed by the serpent of nightmares. :D
charlie: HELLO?????//
so, dendar(?) the night serpent is imprisoned beneath arvus! she was formed from the nightmares of the first sentient being, and sometimes she eats people's nightmares. if she's exceptionally hungry, she'll force nightmares onto people for her to feed off their fear. yrel thinks taure will Probably wake up.
there's a thing on arvus mentioned by the locals called a "sleeping sickness" where people will fall asleep for a few days, sometimes longer, but will wake up. its magical in cause, the people afflicted by it have horrific nightmares, and its just kinda. a thing. wowza
(i have gone back to spelling yrel's name as yrel bc i think it looks nice)
OH HEY SOMEONE POSTED A THEORY ON ONE OF MY STICKMOLUS ANIMATIONS man i should get back to stickmolus sometime. once dsmp releases its awful grip on me.
i keep getting distracted by seeing myself in the camera preview. i have a tooth gap! what the fuck its cute??
K I KNOW WE'RE SUPER BLURRY IN FRONT RN BUT PLEASE HELP ME STAY FOCUSED I SWEAR -leo
we're gonna build a sled! to put taure on.
thorne: i have a good strength score. ....i say, out loud
charlie: i am four feet tall.
[cue argument between thorne & sieron about them both being horcs but sieron has a +0 bc strength is his dump stat]
OH, OKAY, THORNE ROLLED A NAT20 TO CARRY TAURE. NICE
[discussion about what to tell everyone at camp vengenace]
thorne: the last thing we need to do is a witch hunt
charlie: --and we already hunted the witch! the witch has been hunted.
time to discuss strategy!
we need to figure out how to head back to camp vengeance, eg if we want to follow the path we already took or if we wanna do some trailblazing. looks like we're gonna try and take the most direct path! which means we'll prolly risk tangoing with some undead but im willing to risk it
TINY HUT STAIRCASE sorry i just remember it now and then
nyx: [meowing at his cats]
thorne: uh... why is silje meowing?
jorb: silje's food bowl is empty
jorb: you look at silje's food bowl and there's a divot in the middle and the food is all on the sides
emotionally, we must bully the catboy
silje saw something interesting and started meowing
thorne: ill take first watch
silje: ill also take first watch.
charlie: [quietly] gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyy
(but, like, extended for 15 seconds)
silje: [takes watch] [rolls a nat1 and gets distracted by looking at his crush]
THORNE HAS LOCATED A DOG the dog does not give a shit about the tiny hut. THE DOG HAS PEED ON THE TINY HUT goodbye dog
EVERYONE IS ROLLING AT LEAST 1 NAT1
thorne: wow! that sure is a dog.
thorne has drawn the worst possible dog. thorne has erased the worst possible dog. we dont speak of the worst possible dog
its the dog version of honse. DONSE
sieron is now on watch! MAN we are havin trouble rolling today. at least kali's here to make sure sieron doesnt stare at a rock for 50000 years
sieron sees a mouse! bottom text
charlie is now on watch!
kali is havin a big ol thonk. nothing meaningful has come of this
i am perceiving some deer. sieron is not perceiving some deer. silje is perceiving some deer, but better
the deer are fucked up and undead!
silje has gone from "we should hunt these deer for food" to "we should hunt these deer for sport"
charlie: i do not feel like being jumped by five thousand skeletons
charlie takes first watch with sieron! WHY ARE OUR ROLLS SO TERRIBLE
taure is super cursed right now. that's not very pog
charlie: this place sucks.
thorne: to be fair, we havent--
charlie: YOU'RE ASLEEP, SHUT UP
oh hey coolname galvanic finally partied. nice.
thorne is at watch!
solar: hey, is leomund's tiny hut an orb?
there's a critter digging around! AH, THE CRITTER IS UNDEAD. this could be a problem
solar: hey michael, how much does the horrific sin against god dog i drew look like this creature
michael: [dice roll noises] about 50%.
michael: if anyone likes, they can make a nature check--
solar: ME MEMEMEMEME ME ME ME
its a bulette! aka a land shark.
problem: they are not normally undead. this one is undead.
jorb: imagine if you could tame one of those and use it as a mount.
leo: IT WOULD JUST DIG UNDERGROUND AND LEAVE YOU THERE
we are just calling it a weird dog
we're going to mail a letter to the heart of arvus. HEY, CHECK OUT THIS WEIRD DOG,
JORB FOUND ART OF A BABY BULETTE. WEIRD PUPPY!
solar: hey guys, check out this sick art of a bulette i found
silje kept a lookout for the weird dog but its just fucked off. goodbye, weird dog
give it up for day 3!
man there's been like, three incinerations today in blaseball. what's up with that.
I SWEAR IM MOSTLY PAYING ATTENTION its just been an eventful day in blaseball. also im wearing my garages bomber rn. jaylen is home wooOOOO
the wind smells stinky. this is fine.
we're actively avoiding whatever combat michael keeps nudging at us bc we're carrying around an unconscious person and i SWEAR hes gonna throw something directly at us once he's done with our shenanigans
UHH MICHAEL ASKING FOR PASSIVE PERCEPTION LOL
huh. this place used to be inhabited? we're in the woods rn but there's some like, stone ruins? like, VERY ruins. like, not really any structures standing, but enough evidence to show there Were things.
WE FOUND A STATUE
charlie: i want to smash my face against the lore.
used to be a circle of standing stones, but most of em fell over or got overgrown. inside of the circle has been cleared, although v roughly-- ground's torn up
statue is of fjolnir! warrior holding up a spear and shield.
AH, THERE ARE CORPSES, a human got REAL fucked up here. one of the corpses is straight up impaled on fjolnir's spear. n ... not pog.
i am trying so, so hard to pay attention. but i also kinda wanna take a nap.
charlie: [stares at statue] [rolls a 4] i wonder if he had a dick.
okay so something rolled in, tore up the overgrowth inside the circle, and murdered a couple dudes. and was also super tall and human-adjacent. hrm.
oh my god why are we rolling so shit today. time to stealth away and hope we dont get casually dismembered
k: jorb's hair is so long...
leo: K, PLEASE,
time for a break! i am very tired but im gonan see if i can push through a little further. nyx is petting his cat
why do orangatangs look like that
first watch is thorne and sieron! have they even, like, talked
thorne unhabby ):
thorne's worried we were tresspassing when checking out the statue, meanwhile im thinking about that one time when sieron got bit by a groundhog
(oh my god this is from late 2018)
leomund's tiny hut, aka the anti-sea bear circle
we are getting SO much mileage out of the tiny hut.
SILJE HUMS A SONG WITH KALI cute...........
FINALLY I HAVE ROLLED ABOVE A 14 wait no i rolled a 16 twice. anyway we are not dead
nearly at camp vengenace!
boy howdy i hope camp vengeance didnt get burned down.
AH FUCK TAURE IS UNCONSCIOUS SO WE CANT CAST FOR DETECT POISON
kaepora nearly made us all shit ourselves but its okay he just saw some bison and thought it was cool
Michael Is Consulting Several Tables
WHY DOES JORB'S CAMERA ZOOM LIKE THAT why am i hungry. i have so many questions
HEY, TALL GUY
[smacks sieron]
camp vengeance looks better! like, nobody's Obviously Sick anymore, the medical tents arent overfilled, we did it! we saved the dayyyyyy
time to report to ryder! taure's getting dropped off at the medical tent
man remember when charlie didnt wear pants
oh man, with taure unconscious charlie is now taking point with social interaction. wild.
jk im making jorb do it bc im tired
HAHA NAT 20 PERSUASION BC OF ME HELPIN SIERON man ryder is such a cock. he was totally ready to keep throwing troops at heaven's brazier to die until we managed to persuade him out of it.
jorb: did we tell ryder about the vision?
michael: you kinda just took a look at him and went STINKY BOY!
okay yeah anything that dies on arvus will just pop back up as undead. man, arvus sucks.
ryder: alright, dismissed.
charlie: seeya, soldier boy! :D
hahahahaha im gonna eat his knees.
SILJE NEEDS ENRICHMENT IN HIS ENCLOSURE
charlie: ive decided he sucks.
silje: we've already arrived to that, you're late!
LMAO WE WALKED IN ON INGRID AND HER CRUSH they fuckin. nice. you go, you funky lesbian
jorb: we've got the tiny hut, we could go anywhere
leo: we could go to SPACE!
nyx: we could not go to space.
leo: WITH A TINY HUT STAIRCASE, WE CAN,
we are 320 miles away from the spaceship that exists on arvus. nice.
michael: justin sees you-- roll a strength saving throw.
leo: i cant wait to die! [rolls a 3] I AM CRUSHED BY MY DOG
michael: he rolled a nat20.
BOSS ENCOUNTER: CHARLIE'S DOG
(the small circle next to him is one of the medical tents.)
THORNE IS PACT OF THE GUN
solar: PARRY THIS, YOU FUCKING CASUAL
sieron, to ingrid: seems like youve been doing well
charlie: i punch sieron.
sieron:
sieron: the camp, of course.
man we have no idea if the heart of arvus is actually related to the prophecy or not. theres a Lot of stuff lining up, but not enough, and its hard to say how much of it couldve been literal?
solar & michael: [discussing exposition]
me: [cracking up bc penn sent me a funny dsmp joke]
prophecies are weird.
charlie is just s
she is just sitting here
SILJE PLAYED CARDS REALLY GOOD AT ME nyx rolled a nat20 and took all my money
oh cool we can talk to yrel telepathically! time to hoist yrel.
THIS IS SO SCUFFED thorne mentioned yrel and now we're trying to explain to ingrid that we have a magic talking snake
charlie: I WANT TO GO HOME.
thorne: we cant go, we have a GOD-KING to kill!
"i think theyre insane, theyre talking to a snake" "ingrid, druids exist" "oh. im gonna go back to getting railed by my 7 foot tall girlfriend"
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i wanna hear more about your headcanon of declan as autistic (no pressure! only if u want to)
oh ariana we’re really in it now
not all of these bullet points are specifically related to autism bc this just turned into a post about how fond i am of declan. however. autistic declan lynch rights here we go
speech
declanisms
really, keeping a list of action-based conversation starters to meet your goals that all sound like something a caricature of a high-level business executive would say... honey
memorizing clever turns of phrase and the cadence of storytelling
and refusing to ever use this love of language in public lest it make him vulnerable or ruin anything he’s built
having practiced regulating his vocal tone and inflection to make them both as normal and as free of personality as possible
being unable to modulate his vocal tone and inflection when he’s Not actively concentrating on regulating them - speaking impulsively from a place of upset, getting excited about things, etc
physicality
having also practiced his physicality to appear as unthreatening and unobtrusive as possible
mirroring strangers, casual acquaintances, criminal associates
actively schooling himself not to talk with his hands; natural storytelling comes with gesturing and physical involvement
having pleasant conversations and being pleasant to exist around while managing to have absolutely no friends
anxious stomachaches
nervous tics
refusing to allow himself comfortable clothing or a comfortable living space despite seeming to want these things
deciding he can have nice shoes, as a treat (doesn’t have anything to do with neurodivergence i just think it’s cute)
internal emotions
Everything Is Horrible, All The Time, But That’s Fine Because That’s Just How Life Is For Me And I’ve Accepted It
deeply unhappy, deeply bored, deeply exhausted, deeply terrified
given up on dreams and ambitions because they will never be accessible to someone like him (one of those things that in-narrative isn’t autism-related, but sure can be a hashtag relatable feel)
happiness, excitement, joy, any positive emotions are all “dangerous” because they represent a loss of control
zero to one hundred IMMEDIATELY in terms of anger, manic excitement, terror, misery, self-flagellation
constantly self-regulating, compartmentalizing, putting aside, and refusing to act on emotions despite feeling Incredibly Deeply
anxiety
obsessing, catastrophizing, making contingency plans, exploring bad outcomes, regretting past actions literally every single second of every day
aforementioned physical anxiety manifestations
resigned to ronan and matthew’s eventual deaths even when things are Mostly Okay
convinced that if and when something happens to ronan or matthew, it will be his fault
none of these things are autism-related specifically, there’s just something in his repetitive thoughts / methods of self-soothing / ways of internalizing trauma that's..... a feeling
child development
one of those kids who would have been called “precocious”
had developed a system for watching/protecting ronan and trying to convince ronan not to dream things by age five
specific interests in things deemed uninteresting or unimportant
didn’t engage in the same play behavior most kids his age would
got overwhelmed and cried over liking a gift too much
consciously aware of niall’s disdain for him, aurora’s ephemeral nature, and ronan’s dangerousness to himself at age five
some of these things are definitely exacerbated or fully caused by a childhood of emotional neglect and endangerment; autism reading integrates with this rather than replacing it. i strongly feel declan would still have been a “precocious” child with a healthy happy parental upbringing as well
sense of responsibility
extremely stressed by any situation he can’t control
will attempt to control situations beyond his jurisdiction to minimize this
studies so many parenting books after technically becoming ronan and matthew’s caretaker because he has no frame of reference for parenting and does not trust his instincts
“if you want something done right, do it yourself” a life motto by declan lynch
“everything is my fault, all the time” a life motto by declan lynch
“except when it’s dad’s or ronan’s fault” a pretty fair addendum by declan lynch
mental stimulation
so unbelievably bored with his life situation
THRILLED any time he gets to play games or engage in clever conversation - seen a little in his “crime makes me feel alive” vibes, his back-and-forth banter with jordan
won’t let himself get engaged in things because passion feels unsafe
enjoys himself for about one hour of one single night and then immediately starts cracking to pieces about how living in a constant state of mental dissatisfaction is killing him slowly
somehow manages to be surprised by this turn of events
interests
he hides art he loves in a murder attic like a feral cat who refuses to eat in front of people. i don’t even need to get into this
absolutely immediately enchanted to the point of self-labeled stupidity by watching jordan paint
infodumping about art history
trading art interests with jordan bc he’s legitimately interested and excited by what she knows and feels passionate about
this entire post should just be the murder attic. declan oh my fucking god
aforementioned collecting of language he likes
the whole tyrian purple thing. again. declan oh my fucking god
emotional intimacy
craves emotional intimacy but is TERRIFIED of being known and/or being rejected
is convinced he can never and will never have emotional intimacy in his life
has all the stamina of a wet tissue in terms of keeping his emotional secrets when jordan cottons onto them
gets annoyed by relationships with people who want emotional connection but continues playacting through the motions of said relationships in the hopes of being less lonely
comforting people / expressing genuine care
declan attempted to dispense comfort. “everybody dies, matthew”
i have to put attempted to dispense comfort on the list again. oh my god. to declan’s brain, emotional comfort is a vending machine that’s eaten ten dollars in a row and is now falling on him after he made the mistake of shaking it
declan regretted saying anything. [immediately says the worst thing possible]
write your routine, ronan. now. now. write it. write it down. (because i’m worried you’re going to kill yourself but have no idea how to say that so i have to focus on concrete action.)
every time he’s tried to say “i’m worried about you” and instead gone “why are you inconveniencing me this way.” king
having no sense of how to communicate feelings or solve emotional conflicts through talking despite attempting to do these things frequently, AFTER STUDYING OUT OF BOOKS, to his detriment
preferring to take care of people silently and subtly through protecting them and making things easier for them, extremely similarly to how ronan does
irritability
constantly in a low level fugue state of annoyance
runs on caffeine and fumes
very thin patience for anyone else’s inability to stick to plans, manage time, regulate emotion, do their jobs, follow through on commitments, etc
the unceasing “i’m not unhappy. i’m not unhappy. i’m not unhappy” while at work screams of “i am in sensory/emotional hell all the time and checking slightly out of this plane to deal”
loses control all at once, when he does lose control
drains energy like a broken cellphone battery from the effort of combating misery, anxiety, mental overload, boredom, masking all thoughts and feelings
bonus content: parents
the actual in-universe reasons for these things aren’t related to neurodivergence as far as we know, but
growing up as the unfavored child whose interests are constantly ignored or shut down
seeing your siblings get preferential treatment for no reason
being silenced or punished every time you express dissatisfaction or unhappiness or anger
being considered disposable
internalizing the idea that you’re a burden unless you’re worth something to others
that’s a real common lived realty for autistic ppl
bonus content: brothers
i read all three lynch brothers as being on the spectrum and all having different experiences with it
i read matthew as having had the inverse experience of declan, in which he flaps and stims and chews loudly and talks a mile a minute and expresses himself with excitement and passion and bouncing
& he has Not been punished for it or made to feel like it should be hidden
declan’s ferocious protectiveness of matthew is in many ways bc he wants to keep matthew from suffering the same way he has
differing autism spectrum experiences fit neatly into that
ronan and declan’s experiences are in some ways wildly different
in other ways, though
going zero to one hundred on the emotional spectrum, defaulting to anger to avoid fully feeling internal chaos, being unable to understand the other’s feelings or thought processes / making wildly incorrect conclusions about them, preferring to show feelings through action rather than words, struggling to translate genuine emotion into expression without coming across as a dick
they are Very Similar
declan and ronan do a lot of “dog growls at its own reflection” about this because neither of them is more furious than when they see their own perceived shortcomings in the other
i’m positive i’ve forgotten some things and also positive i have not communicated all of these thoughts as effectively as i would like but i have been typing this post for a thousand years. here you go
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grealish where you broke up after he confessed to you that he no longer loves you and you fell pregnant. You bumped into each other and he was with his new girl whilst you were buying things for your craving. Your bump wasn't noticeable, months after Tyrone finds out you had a baby and tells jack about it and he was fuming at you OR you can change the plot twist bc this seems predictable 😂 thanks love xo
You stare that stick in your hands with tears in your eyes, you're shocked to say the least. This couldn't have come at a worse time.
You stare at those little lines confirming that you're pregnant and you really don't know what to do. It's been two weeks since you and Jack ended your relationship, a week since he finished taking things out of the house. He said he didn't love you anymore, that he couldn't see your future as clear as before and so it was better to finish things there.
You didn't know whether to tell him or not, the doctor had confirmed you were pregnant for more or less six weeks and so it could only be his. You were conflicted, you didn't know whether to tell him. Part of you didn't want to, he was so transparent in telling you he didn't see a future with you and you didn't want him to feel obligated in any way. But there was a small part of you that wanted him to know, to be at least present in his child's life; you didn't expect anything, you would have managed on your own in everything you needed but you knew he would be a good father.
You take your time to think about it, your belly is still too small to be seen and you can easily cover it with wide shirts while you go shopping or a walk out of the house. You haven't seen Jack since he took all his stuff out of the house, unless you count the games you kept watching on TV anyway. And if Jack still didn't know about his baby, he knew about his father. Despite everything you started talking to your belly, you told him or her what Jack was doing and how you met; you told him or her that you would always be there for them and that it didn't matter if you were alone, you and him/her against the world, you would do anything not to make it too hard.
Jack was still an unknown factor, constantly in your thoughts but at the same time you did everything you could not think about it. A little hard when just looking in the mirror reminds you of him. Your family and some of your friends tried to tell you that it would be better if he knew, then he would act accordingly; if he decided he didn't want to be part of the child's life then it would just be his decision.
But he decided to end the story and you clearly still have feelings for him and you don't want to see him for now. Sending him a message about something like that doesn't seem right, but anyway they had a point: you still live in the same city and still frequent the same places as before and it wouldn't have been difficult to meet you by chance despite everything.
Like that day. You had been craving jelly beans all day but you didn't have any at home and the girl you asked to go out and buy a pack had completely screwed up the type and so you had been hovering until then. Before you came home so you took the opportunity to get something for dinner and your beloved candy. You were craving it before, your favorite ones were strawberry candy but who knows why your baby liked orange ones that you hated with all your heart. Too bitter for your taste buds, but he was still Jack's son, wasn't he?
Anyway you're in the sweet department, trying to find what you need as fast as you can and don't come home with lots of sweets you can't eat. When you bump into someone.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry" you apologize to the girl who smiles and shakes her head.
"Love I found these, are they okay?" a guy walks up to the girl and when you see him your heart skips a beat. Jack is standing in front of you for the first time in months and obviously he's already found someone else by his side.
"(Y/N)?" he asks surprised once he sets his eyes on you and you smile embarrassed.
"Hi Jack" you greet him by casually placing the cart in front of your stomach even though it's already well hidden and you hurry to leave the two of them and that store as soon as possible.
You have a moment of hesitation when you find out you're waiting for a boy. It's more real to be able to choose a name, buy a specific colour onesie, organize everything. You've never talked about it but you know Jack would love to know, and yet the meeting that day somehow convinced you even more of your decision. He seemed happy and you don't want to be the reason for a possible break between the two or hard times.
The months go by and there are no more decisions, plans or anything else when your baby comes into this world in all his beauty. Taking care of him is hard, especially because you are alone and it doesn't matter if your mother or brother takes turns to be with you at least the first few times; this is your life now and you are largely responsible for it.
Tyrone can't take his eyes off his friend Jack, who's tucking in his boots ready to be the first one to set foot on the pitch for training.
"Jack" he calls him back before he can walk out the door, "can I talk to you in private for a minute?"
"Yeah, yeah of course" he signals him to follow him out and secludes himself a little further away from the locker room door.
"What happened Ty?"
"Look man it's not easy to say, I don't even know how things are between you or if you already know but... I heard that, well that (Y/N) had a baby recently"
"What are you talking about?!" Jack's first reaction is to laugh out loud, he went on with his life too, but from here to having a baby in such a short time it takes a lot.
"Who told you that?"
"My girlfriend, she saw her buying diapers a few days ago and her brother was carrying the stroller"
"Well, it can be his, can't it?"
Tyrone shakes his head, "It's hers" the boy says for sure, "He's... he's three months old, Jack"
"Wha-" Jack's eyes open wide to the realization, "No... no, that's not possible. I- I even met her a few months ago" he murmurs as his mind wanders fast as he do some maths quickly.
"I'm sorry it was me who told you, man"
Jack shakes his head, for the rest of the day he can't concentrate and is also called back for a chat with the coach. His head is clearly elsewhere, the initial surprise as time goes by has turned into anger and he finds himself at your door as soon as they have the go-ahead to leave the structure, he doesn't even change, eager to find out for himself whether it's the truth or not. Because unless you cheated on him while you were still together, and if Tyrone didn't misunderstand, then that child has to be his.
But you go to open the door giving a little tap on the baby's back, and he feels like he's gonna faint. Your face says it all as soon as you see him, it's all true.
"Really (Y/N)? Did you think I'd never find out?" you can clearly see flames in his eyes as he enters the house, he's furious and has every right to be.
"You've made a life for yourself Jack, I didn't mean to intrude"
"Don't... try to blame me now" he starts and then lowers his voice because the baby in your arms is clearly upset by it.
"Ssh love, it's okay, you just have to burp" you murmur softly as the baby starts to complain slightly about the discontent he's in.
"Listen Jack, I- these months have been... difficult, to say the least. I'm not trying to blame you in any way and I certainly can't expect you not to be confused or furious with me"
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks while you sit on the couch and put the little one on your legs, always stroking his back gently. As soon as he sees his little face, Jack doesn't understand anything. He feels on the clouds, that's his son and he missed all those months and now he doesn't know what to do.
"Jack?" he shakes his head, taking his attention away from that little creature for a moment before lifting it up to you.
"Hmm? Sorry" still your attention is caught by the baby once he burps and feels more at peace with himself.
You sigh, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I took all this away from you"
"Honestly, I just feel a big confusion right now"
"You want to-want to hold him?" Jack stiffens in a moment but nods, welcoming that little bundle in his arms.
"Hi" he cooes letting the little one wrap his little hand around his index finger. Jack sighs not looking away from his son, not even noticing that you had disappeared for a few minutes and returned with an album in his hands.
"I did this for Dylan, but I guess it's good enough for you too"
"Dylan?"
"Yeah" he nods as he opens that album and starts flipping through it. Pictures of you every month of your pregnancy with the belly bigger and bigger, ultrasounds, your family. All he can see is that there's one thing in common in all those photos, he's not there.
He closes that album firmly, giving the baby back to you and rubbing his hands on his face while you put him in the stroller and cross your arms to your chest.
"I'm sorry"
"You keep saying that, but is it really true? If it was like that, you would have told me sooner" he says scornfully, and you look down for a moment.
"If I came to you, if I came to you after you left me saying I was pregnant, would you have believed me?"
"Oh my God, really? Do you really think that about me?"
"I don't know, all right? I don't know! You said you didn't love me anymore and I didn't want to force you to do anything"
"I didn't have to come back with you, just to take care of my son"
"You're right" you murmured after a while, looking at the baby so he wouldn't see how upset you were.
"What am I supposed to do now?" he laughs nervously.
"If you want to be a part of his life, we'll make arrangements. If you want to pretend you don't know, that's fine too"
"Don't be stupid now, of course I want to stay. Just like I wish I'd been there before"
"Are you gonna keep remembering this to me forever?" you ask exhausted while he gets up.
"It's still too early to try to forgive you" and when he walks out that door you burst out crying, your legs can't hold you anymore and you collapse on the floor. The sobs shake your body and soon your baby starts crying when he realizes his mother is feeling down.
"It's okay, Dylan, daddy's here with you now too. Everything's gonna be okay" you sniff looking down at him.
Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6
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Finding Love by the Nile | pharaoh!th x fem!reader
Summary: New Pharaoh Tom is young and handsome. After succeeding to his father at a very young age, he is now respected and loved by everyone – but mostly desired by the all ladies of the Egypt Kingdom. As big as his harem can be, one particular creature catches his attention since long time ago and now, he is determined to make her his.
Pairing: Pharaoh!Tom x Commoner!Reader
Warnings: some cute cocky Tom moments but full fluff power
Word Count: 3485
A/N: I’m such a sucker for Egyptian mythology since forever so I decided to combine this passion with Tom, because I’ve never read something like that(?). And there is actually a Tutankhamun exhibition in Paris (and I wish so hard I could go tbh), that’s how this idea popped up into my brain 😗 So yeah, we’ll see how it goes!! Hope you like it ✨
⚠️ For the sake of the plot with the time period and ethnic details (Antic Egypt), the reader (Y/N) will have black/brunette hair, brown eyes and a little tanned skin. Tom will also be a bit more tanned. Thank you for your understanding!! ⚠️
masterlist
City of Giza, Egypt – c. 1539 BC
(Y/N) walks in the streets of the city center. It’s barely ten in the morning. People mill in the alleys and the merchants don’t hesitate to scream about their good deals in hope to tempt new customers. Children weave in and out the crowd playing tag, as their giggles full of life mix with the regular morning hubbub.
Always so much life, nothing changes.
This is the place where the young (Y/N) was born and grown up, in a kind family in a modest home but where it was good to live in. But nothing goes as we plan them to be. And (Y/N) still remembers that particular day where her destiny changed.
The old pharaoh left the world of the living to join the Other Side of god Osiris. All Egypt cried its deceased king who reigned for almost thirty years. And all Egypt got surprised to see a twelve-year old boy announced as his heir. His only child. When the boy was officially proclaimed as Pharaoh of the Egypt Kingdom, the population got to finally discover the face of its new ruler. So young but already with a disconcerting beauty. Wild brown hair due to ridiculous curls, but that seemed weirdly soft to touch. Big brown eyes so deep and sharp but warm at the same time. Him and (Y/N) were the same age at the time. She couldn’t stop but stare at him with marvel and astonishment. Both their worlds were different: the rich sovereign family on one side and the servant people on the other. But that didn’t stop the aforesaid people to cheer and honor their new king chosen by the Gods. And (Y/N) did the same.
Then time flew by and (Y/N) is now eighteen. Long and thick brunette hair cascades on her back, framing a luscious body as well as her gorgeous visage, with hazelnut eyes and soft lips. Stride across the streets of the city, on a market day, is one of her favorite hobbies. It is nearly impossible for her to miss this day, unless if her father needs some help for work.
‘(Y/N)!!’ As she hears her name, she turns her head toward the voice.
‘Oh, hi Nana! How are you?’ Asks (Y/N) with a warm smile.
It is “Nana”, as casually named, the old neighbor lady next to (Y/N)’s household. She is like a second grandmother to her and they truly are fond of each other. (Y/N) couldn’t miss an occasion to pay her a visit.
‘Good, my child, thank you. I bumped into you father while going out and he asked me to tell you, if I saw you, to join him in front of the bridge outside the city.’
Oh. (Y/N) knows more than well what that means.
‘Your father is making more and more return trips to the Royal Palace. It seems like the Pharaoh appreciates his fabrics a lot!’ Laughs Nana.
The Pharaoh. Just talking about it makes (Y/N) let out a big sigh. She is not the only one that grown up, the young Pharaoh from six years ago back then has also changed. Quite a lot.
(Y/N) observed his evolution during several visits to the Palace. Born in a modest family of linen farmers since decades, the young lady grown between fields and weavers and was determined to carry on the traditions. Everyone liked their textiles made of linen, including the royal family who put its trust in (Y/N)’s father. As soon as she was able to work (quite early), her father brought her with him to the Pharaoh’s Palace to deliver and propose new textiles. Of course she always stayed behind to let her father handle the family business, but she took advantage of it to observe the new “little king”, – as some people called him at first –, at any occasion. His mother and close advisers were always in sight to guide him at the beginning of his reign.
Still in power nowadays, he is now known as the young and handsome eighteen-year old Pharaoh idolized by all the country. Besides getting more self-confidence, he doesn’t stop and rush around like a madman to develop Egypt. And the people respect him for that matter. But what noticed (Y/N) over the years was, in addition to all that, that he became a true charmer. More like a lady-killer, in fact. He knew that. ‘The Pharaoh is so handsome!’, ‘He is more and more beautiful!’, ‘Did you see his muscles?’, ‘He must be blessed by Ra, God of the Sun!’ All the time. Any woman falls in love with him and, without anyone noticing well not really but anyway, the young Pharaoh created his own harem. Of course, like he would care. (Y/N) noticed with great regret even if she will never admit it out loud the number of young ladies increasing each time she visited the Royal Palace with her father. One even more beautiful than the other, wearing dresses too much fitted – probably created with the linen of her family – and some black kohl around the eyes, they were free to go around the Palace as they wish. But where (Y/N) could see them endlessly was next of him. All the damn time. This is what people call jealousy.
(Y/N) sighs again thinking about this all over again. She couldn’t stop, this feeling is stronger that she imagines. But it is time for her to accept her fated destiny…
‘Thanks Nana, I will go find him’ Replies finally (Y/N) while taking the granny in her arms for a hug, ‘And you, be careful at the market, okay? I’ll see you this evening!’ She then takes her leave and starts walking to the bridge, while waving to Nana on her way.
After a few minutes she catches sigh of her father who is rushing to reorganize some textiles in his barrow. (Y/N) speeds up to help him.
‘I’m here, father!’
‘Ah, there you are (Y/N)!’ exclaims her father, turning towards his daughter’s voice, smiling. ‘I was checking if I took all the textiles to show to the Pharaoh. There we go. Everything is ready, we can go.’
Both of them set off and cross the bridge heading to the Royal Palace. It is around twenty minutes walk on the other side of the river. This is the perfect time for father and daughter to chat together about anything. The Palace is located in the South of Giza by the Nile. The air is hot, as usual, but walking by the water creates a fresh breeze that lightens their steps.
‘I see you’re wearing the new dress you made yourself yesterday’ notices her father, a proud smile showing.
The dress worn by (Y/N) is her own creation. Her mother taught her at a young age how to weave textile to then sew it and create costumes, and (Y/N) took a great liking in it. Today she wears a straight mid-length dress in cream-colored linen she tinted, with the collar and straps sewed in big stripes of pearls. The bottom of it is embellished with some patterns of Isis’ feathers. Her feet are covered in strappy sandals in dark leather.
‘You really are talented, sweetheart. I am so proud of you’ continues her father. He adores his daughter more than anything in the world, and nothing could make him happier than seeing her walk on his steps. He is sure she will accomplish great things in the future.
‘Thank you, father’ smiles (Y/N), ‘Mother also helped me a lot with the pearls.’
‘You are both talented and beautiful women.’
A peaceful silent takes place in the discussion. Both of them were all smiles and little by little, the Royal Palace is appearing in the arid horizon. (Y/N)’s thoughts start to turn upside down again, her throat is dry, her hands sweaty and an uneasy feeling begins to grow in her stomach. For some time now, it was the same. A sort of odd stress that she felt as soon as she was near the Pharaoh’s Royal Palace. The Pharaoh.
‘Your mother and I combined two types of linen to create a new type of textile. I wonder if it will be to the Pharaoh’s liking.’
Everything goes blank around her and her father’s words wanders in the air. Could I appeal to the Pharaoh? That’s impossible… (Y/N) never spoke directly to the Pharaoh, or maybe if she had to present or give some information about a textile. She just assisted her father in his task so she couldn’t imagine getting herself noticed or, even worst, being seen as someone disrespectful to the royal family. And ruin all her father’s business.
But the Pharaoh has, in fact, an intriguing personality. (Y/N) could sometimes feel his eyes on her when she was displaying textiles, while her father kept explaining all the details and features. Or he would just call her and ask her to come closer to “see the textiles better”. Of course it was not the textiles he was looking at.
‘(Y/N), we are here.’
As waking up in the middle of a dream, (Y/N) gets a grip of herself and they in fact arrived. She can’t even remember passing near the guards at the entrance.
Come on, (Y/N). Breath in…. And out…
Her father put the barrow next to the entrance archway that leads to the throne room. He picks some textiles, keeps them under his arm and starts to walk inside the Palace.
‘Father, I err… I think I will stay outside a bit. I-I got a bit hot when walking so I will join you… A bit later…’ mumbles (Y/N) while playing with her thumbs.
‘Are you sure? Do you want me to ask some water to the Phara-‘
‘No! no no no, don’t worry, father… R-Really, I just need to rest a little’ insists (Y/N), showing him a begging look.
‘If you insist, sweetheart… Sit in a shade place and do not hesitate to ask if you need something. You can join me when you feel better’ finishes her father slightly worried, but still left a kiss on her forehead. Deciding not to insist on it, he enters the Palace before glancing one last time at (Y/N) who, to reassure him, smiles and waves at him to go.
Finally alone, (Y/N) moves the barrow and places it in the shade of a jasmine tree. She decides to sit down on the sandy ground, back against the open side of the barrow and head lying of some textiles that make great pillows. She closes her eyes and empties her mind. The jasmine above her leaves a delicate perfume in the air, big palm trees swing there leafs with the wind and some birds sing in the distance. So calm. The breeze of the Nile is still refreshing the air, to (Y/N)’s pleasure. This oasis is a true haven of peace and nobody here to disturb her.
‘At least I will not see him today…’
‘I hope you’re not talking about me?’
(Y/N) jumps and lets out a squeal. She then brutally stops in her tracks of standing up because she loses her balance and lands with a chaotic “BOOM” in the middle of textiles in the barrow. And she hears that same voice chuckling at her. Its seems kind of familiar… That’s weird… Wait- When she finds her way out the piles of textiles – careful not to damage something – and is ready to stand up, she can’t believe who is in front of her.
‘I didn’t think you would be that fearful, (Y/N).’
No, that’s not possible…
Well it is?! Right in front of her eyes is the Pharaoh himself. He stands there, towering her, his torso puffed out and hands on his hips. Clearly (Y/N) couldn’t help admiring that true masterpiece. His naked and defined torso displays a pectoral collar made of golden slab, beautify with many gemstones such as lapis lazuli, cornelian and turquoise. His wrists, biceps and ankles adorn very large bracelets that look heavy just by watching them. About his costume, he wears a classic shendyt around his waist, extending to above the knees and hold by embroiled gold and blue belt. His sandals are similar to (Y/N)’s but more sophisticated with gemstones. Finally rests on his head his shiny khepresh on which the uraeus stays in the middle of his forehead like a third eye. (Here is a link of Tom’s outfit -> https://goopics.net/i/WLDoV)
And it is after a few seconds of total blank but mostly of delicious contemplation that (Y/N) comes back to her senses (again) and becomes aware of what is happening. Panicked, she throws herself at the Pharaoh’s feet.
‘I BEG YOUR PARDON, OH MY PHARA-‘
‘Calm down, (Y/N), no need to act like this!’ Laughs heartily the young king while looking at the trembling woman, forehead pressed against the ground. ‘Stand up, please.’
(Y/N) consents to his demand and begins to raise only her head but after another approving look of the Pharaoh, she stands on her two legs shaking the sand off her dress. She doesn’t dare to look at him in the eyes and her heart beats so hard it could jump out of her chest at any moment.
‘You are an emotional woman, (Y/N). Wait. Don’t move and close your eyes.’
What?
The Pharaoh moves his hand closer to (Y/N)’s face so she instinctively shuts her eyes, before she feels fingers brushing the remaining sand off of her forehand. When they gently slide on her cheek and disappear, she then opens her eyes and flutters her long eyelashes a few times.
‘There you go, you are as gorgeous as before.’
‘I-I, my Pharaoh Tutankha-‘
The aforesaid Tutankhamun interrupts her by putting his index on her plump lips.
‘I already told you to call me “Tom” when we are alone.’ Another quirkiness of his. ‘And please forget about “my king”, “my Pharaoh” and other honorific titles, it makes me feel so much older than I look like…’ whines “Tom”.
He is still a child.
‘… As you wish, “Tom”’ answers (Y/N) with a simple but humble nod, smiling. Then she asks ‘My father is already inside the Palace to display our textiles, shouldn’t you be there?’
‘I told Mother to do the job today because I wanted to get some fresh air…’ He sigh before adding ‘… At least I got the opportunity to be in your company.’
And here is the smooth Pharaoh again.
‘I’m sure your concubines would appreciate your presence even more if you join them…’
‘Pff, they are not really useful to me besides-‘
‘With all due respect, Tom, these kind of details don’t concern me. At all’ suddenly interrupts (Y/N), looking away with displeasing eyes just by the thought of him being… Intimate with ALL these DIFFERENT women.
Stay calm (Y/N), don’t lose it.
There is a heavy silence between them and Tom doesn’t waste time to break it. ‘Excuse me, (Y/N)… It didn’t mean to broach this subject…’ He corrects himself while scratching the back of his neck, feeling a bit awkward and calling himself stupid in his head. And that is when (Y/N) could notice some strands of hair poking out his headgear. In fact she also notes that its way too forward on his forehead.
‘If you will allow me, Tom…’ She steps closer, stretching her arms out to finally grab his headgear between her head. ‘Your khepresh moved… I will arrange it.” And (Y/N) replaces it the right way. She decides not to mention about the adorable rebellious hair, choosing to gaze at them when he will not look.
Unconsciously, (Y/N)’s hands leave Tom’s headgear to slide and slowly caress his face, ending their way on his jawline.
Her hands are soft for a weaver… So soft, thoughts Tom, lost in his countless dreams and fantasies.
‘Thank you, (Y/N).’
When (Y/N) is aware of her action, she hurries to take away her hands but the young Pharaoh is faster and catches them back, his grasp firm but at the same time gentle.
‘These hands can create many beautiful textiles… I wonder what other wonderful things they could do for me…’
He brings her hands up to leave kisses on them. (Y/N)’s cheeks turn as red as she got sunburned. His eyes oh my his eyesstare deep in her soul, full of such desire that (Y/N) couldn’t think of something to say. She is like hypnotized, captivated by this man’s handsome figure and unctuous words.
‘C-Come on, Tom… Don’t say-’
‘Yes (Y/N), I insist… You are much more precious to me than you can imagine…’
Hands intertwined, they never look away. They stare hungrily at each other, like they could devour a one in front of them with the eyes. The only sound heard is the ibis flying over the gigantic garden to go to the Nile. How could (Y/N) even think about THE Pharaoh of Egypt himself being so interested in her, daughter of traders-weavers? And yet, Tom couldn’t look away or even think about doing so.
Is this a sign from Hathor, Goddess of love?
‘Follow me (Y/N), let’s have a walk around the oasis’ proposes Tom and before waiting for any answer, he drags her with him and goes down the stairs that leads to the Palace gardens. (Y/N) doesn’t even protest, she already knows that nothing can stop the young Pharaoh when he has an idea in mind.
Once they arrive in the oasis – that is a private place only reserved to the Royal Family – and walk for a bit, they stop in front of a huge pond liven up with tones of aquatic plants, fishes and birds. Rows of acacia and jasmine trees surround it, as if to hide the pond from curious eyes, but some sunrays continue to reflect on the clear water coming from the Nile nearby.
Astonished, (Y/N) gets close to the pond, full of life, while slowly letting loose on Tom’s grasp. He lets her go without a word and admires her in a loving way. He wishes he could keep this delightful image engraved in his mind until he dies: this woman with a goddess’ aura, the sun warming her impeccable skin and her hair dancing like her dress in rhythm with the wind and the leafs.
I want to make her mine.
Then (Y/N) turns and calls out to the Pharaoh ‘Tom, come see how beautiful the fishes are!’
In a snap (don’t you dare laugh at that word), the young king joins her at the water’s edge. He perfectly knows all species in the oasis, fishes included, but every second is a chance to be with the one he secretly loves so much. Once next to (Y/N), Tom wraps an arm around her hips and embraces her. Both of them, one head laying on the other, admire the exotic fishes shaking and splashing everywhere in the pond.
But in reality Tom and (Y/N) look at their reflection in the water. Both reflections, standing together, bodies interlacing lovingly.
And in a whisper Tom takes his chance ‘(Y/N), please, be my Queen.’
(Y/N) bits the inside of her cheek because it is like her dreams comes true, little by little but still is.
And stopping herself from laughing she answers ‘First, you get rid of the tones of kohl around your eyes and then of all your harem.’
‘Isn’t it more important to start with the girls and then the kohl?’
And (Y/N) couldn’t stop herself anymore and lets out a heartily laugh. Her answer is silly, his answer is also silly. But this entire situation is even sillier that (Y/N) could imagine. And Tom of course joins her and laughs.
‘No, first the kohl because there is too much of it and because I like looking at your eyes all natural.’
‘You’re right. Actually this thing is such a pain that my eyes get irritated at the end of the day’ huffs Tom blinking exaggeratedly his eyes at (Y/N) while approaching his face of hers, looking like a crazy man. (Y/N) doesn’t stop to laugh at him. And she impresses herself and dares to leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth, which gets him by surprise.
‘And then I want those girls out of here, and after we can discuss about this Queen thing’ murmurs (Y/N) still close to his lips.
‘Don’t tempt me (Y/N), I might get a bit too excited and do all that just for you’ adds seductively Tom brushing his lips against hers, while smirking.
‘Aren’t you the Pharaoh?’
‘I sure am the Pharaoh of Egypt, love…’
And all of the sudden Tom lifts (Y/N), making her leave her a surprised squeal, and carries her bride style. Now he can’t hold anymore and kisses her straight on the lips and they both savor this moment.
‘… And I will show you now.’
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Any thoughts on a cupidlighter? (cupid-whitelighter) What kind of powers they might have? Like, would they develop new hybrid powers? (Orbeaming? Lol)
Okay. So. i actually think about the differences between cupids & whitelighter relatively frequently (i can say at the very least more frequently than any normal person) because in my next gen fic we have both cupitches and witchlighters, and while we already have a basic 411 on a witchlighter hybrid because of paige, chris, & wyatt, we saw really next to nothing on how cupids function as they were only in a total of like eight or nine episodes. but it’s established cupids are a different species and while cupids & whitelighters share some powers with similar functions (both have a form a teleportation & of sensing), i think the ways they tap into these powers is completely different. broad strokes, if a whitelighter and a cupid switched bodies, they would have trouble beaming/orbing respectively, because it would require a different set of skills/mentality.
so let’s start with whitelighters bc we’ve got a little more lore on them to start with. they are a species completely ruled by logic. there are clearly A Lot of rules in place for whitelighters, ranging from general “don’t fall in love with your charge” to the hella specific “don’t eat on the job, wear you formal robes to meetings”. we literally get the quote “a whitelighter who's controlled by his emotions is useless.” so uh. yeah. that and they clearly serve a higher power (the elders), and to displease them is to have your wings clipped. now, we could get into some speculation here bc while the elders are a higher council of whitelighters the do act as the guide/leaders of all users of white magic, no matter the species. so like we could say that what a whitelighter should have originally been was one who was always compelled to do good and help others and they initially operated off their basic instinct, and then the formed a casual system you know assigning charges to make sure every witch/future whitelighter was receiving the guidance they needed, and then that grows into this and this grows into that and we see the elders rise as the beacon of good magic, the moral compass to guide the world (and who better to watch over good magic than beings who are literally hand picked due to their amazing capacity to do good?). but now it’s sorta a uhh what’s the word you know that thing where something feeds off its own energy and growing bigger and bigger because every time you’re doing it your building off your last iteration and nothing’s really driving you to do it at this point other than the fact you feel like you need to improve the last phase into a bigger and better phase it’s very cyclical and i swear there’s a colloquialism for it but i just can’t put my finger on it Anyway it become a that situation where the elders are the leaders of the magical community so they need to be presentable and they need to be dignified and they can’t be a clownass bc then it seems like the elders as a whole are clownasses (which i aint saying anything butttttt) and because of all this whitelighters as a whole, over the centuries, turn away from that sort of intrinsic emotion based free form sitch and become a much more rigid and structured people. because of this, i think powers such as orbing is really guided by a more logical approach. they think of a location, and they can go there. it’s very much done with the mind. sensing is another whitelighter ability that has become less and less attuned to emotions. a whitelighter can sense when their charge is in trouble, but we really don’t get any other emotions. however, they can easily sense if there are people in a room, or if a being is evil (note: i know in the s5 opener when piper was kidnapped by necron leo’s like “all i’m sensing is courage” but my counterargument was that was not a normal emotion, that was a magically amped up backfire of a spell that suppressed other emotions and completely flooded one’s system with courage, so i don’t count that really. i would also add, as piper and leo share a very deep, very strong bond, it’s also likely that leo’s ability to sense piper is a lot higher than it would be with any of his other charges).
so now let’s jump to cupids. we have barely any canon on them (which i love), and what we do have i might very well ignore. (there’s a cupid judge?? all cupids are dead babies????? i’m..... yeah i’m not doing that.) the way i see cupids is as beings of love, who are very much ruled by their emotions (the real water signs of the magical world). we know from coop that beaming itself is about emotions, not logic. you can’t think of a place to get there, you feel it (which is why piper and leo kept fucking up their beaming destinations in the finale). when they sense, they sense love, they sense hurt, they sense fear, they sense caution, they sense hope. it’s not a physical thing, it’s not a mental thing, it’s pure, raw emotions. also just while i’m on the topic the way i think cupids work is that they’re just straight up vagabonds, they wander the earth just looking for instances to spark love, there’s no rhyme or reason to it. (like leprechauns how in canon “are like bees, they pollinate the world with luck.” it’s implied they don’t have charges/specific assignments to do with their luck, they just go where the vibes take them. that’s how i like to think cupids work. like love isn’t about reason or logic, so the way they operate shouldn’t be grounded in reason or logic). as far as a higher power they have to answer to, i don’t think that would come from within the cupids. i think while there is a vague social structure base off how long one has been a cupid for, there’s mostly just a sense of fraternity that links them all together. the higher power they answer to is the elders (who honestly i really don’t think they engage with the cupids like At All especially with their focused belief that logic and discipline should be the standard they just really don’t like the loosey goosey energy the cupids have. it think when they called coop bc they felt vaguely guilty for completely shafting her love life was probably the first time they reached out to the cupids in about a century or so).
So. now that i have talked extensively about both species, let’s get into what a cupidlighter would actually look like. for starters, the birth’s gonna be a scandal. romeo and juliet two households both alike in dignity a wild love affair a this a that the other it’s gonna be the talk of the whole magical community. and there are so many questions because how will this child age? which being would they elect to become? what powers will they have? so on and so forth. so two answer my own questions: a whitelighter was once human, and can become human again. it’s established immortality is a gift. i think cupids are naturally immortal (sidenote i think coop had to petition the elders to grant him the ability to age, which they weren’t too keen on bc they’re like dude we already let you marry a witch what more do you want and coop’s like .....to not watch my wife grow old without me??? and they’re like ughhhhhhh but then leo catches wind of this and orbs up there like heartless motherfuckers?? coop’s love for phoebe is pure don’t subject them to this horrible curse???? jesus christ aren’t you supposed to be the good guys? stop and think about your actions for like 90 seconds you callous fucks??? and the elders are like 😐😐 okay coop can age. and like the younger whitelighter are like can we talk like that? and the older ones are like nooooooo that’s a leo thing they like cannot kill him). so, in conclusion, i think a cupidlighter would age like a mortal, but at an insanely slow rate (think like asgardians to humans in the mcu. but like. maybe not that slow). what will they become, a whitelighter or a cupid: i think they would be raised/trained in the ways of both, and then once they’re like in their twenties you know they’ve been alive for almost a century they would probably settle and decide what they will act as, which really depends on who they are as a person (but let’s be real it’s gonna be cupids who wants to serve those stuffy ass elders with their suckass playbook). as to what powers they would have, i am honestly going to say All Of Them. because there’s no witch in them there’s no concept of a dominant/active power. so they just like. can do it all. (and hell yes to the orbeaming which i am definitely looks like orbing but instead of a blue light and tiny white orbs its a pink like with small ass lil hearts 💞💕). so the teleportation magic would fuse into a new power and the sensing would fuse into just a superior version of sensing, they can heal like a whitelighter they can manipulate time like a cupid they just. they get everything. But. a lot of the powers have different triggers than they normally would. i would say orbeaming would definitely be a more difficult form of teleportation to master than orbing or beaming on its own. i think the time manipulation, which should be ruled by the cupid half, would end up having a more whitelighter trigger, meaning they’re going to have to figure that one out on their own because the cupids don’t know how to teach it to them and the whitelighters don’t have that power. so while they really have a long list of powers, mastering them is much more difficult than it would be for any non-hybrid.
and if i’m doing a bonus round (and i’m Always doing a bonus round) here are my thoughts on a cupitchligher. so we’ve got a couple options here a cupitch was a relationship with a whitelighter a witchlighter has a relationship with a cupid a cupitch and a witchlighter have a relationship a cupidlighter has a relationship with a witch. i think i’ve covered all my bases. i also think all of these would yeild a great range of magic results, but the baseline common traits would be like 1. good person, like an incredibly good person bc they have the whitelighter instinct to help people in need the cupid impulse to spark and nuture love And on top of that the witch’s need to protect the innocent. bro you’ve got such a good person on your hands. and then 2. their witch powers would be amplified by their other halves. okay so you’ve got a tribrid so you know they’re already going to be strong but this is like a merphoenichaun where all the sides are magical but like,, unrelated, this is three sides working in absolute harmony to amplify one another. a witch’s powers come from their emotions and the cupid side helps boost that and the whitelighter side not only adds its own extra punch but it also works to hone it through the inherent discipline that has become ingrained into whitelighter dna.
#oh you know just a couple thots#just thot i'd jot down a couple quick sentences about it#nothing major#yeah lmao i think about this sorta meta/worldbuilding A Lot#💌#charmed#long post
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Iced Vanilla Latte With Two Pumps Of Caramel
AO3 LINK
Even though Marvin always acted as though he hated his job and would never turn down an opportunity to rant about it, he had to admit, at least to himself, that it was quite nice most of the time. There weren't that many people most of the time, and even when there was it wasn't as bad as he made it sound. He used most of the time to talk to his two best friends Trina and Charlotte and do homework.
So yeah if he was honest with himself he had a pretty great job, just not today…
He was looking at the boy putting down his tote bag while smiling big at the girl with the big curls he often came in with.
He had thought for a long time that they were together until he had heard the guy or “Whizzer” as he got scribbled on his large vanilla ice-coffee with two pumps of caramel, complain about some guy “cof boy” oblivious being straight.
Even though Marvin always acted as though he hated his job and would never turn down an opportunity to rant about it, he had to admit, at least to himself, that it was quite nice most of the time.
There weren't that many people most of the time, and even when there was it wasn't as bad as he made it sound.
He used most of the time to talk to his two best friends Trina and Charlotte and do homework.
So yeah if he was honest with himself he had a pretty great job, just not today…
He was looking at the boy putting down his tote bag while smiling big at the girl with the big curls he often came in with.
He had thought for a long time that they were together until he had heard the guy or “ Whizzer ” as he got scribbled on his large vanilla ice-coffee with two pumps of caramel, complain about some guy “cof boy” oblivious being straight.
Whizzer, it had to be a fake name right?
A nickname or just a name that he gave to places like this to get a laugh?
No parent in their right mind would name their child after a cartoon sound, right?
Yeah, Marvin had a lot of questions this early February morning.
But the most pressing one was WHAT THE FUCK WAS WHIZZER DOING AT THE COFFEE SHOP TODAY!?
The pretty, tall boy with the gorgeous hair and the most adorable smile in probably the whole world, never came in here on weekdays he came in once a week, every Sunday morning at 7:45 am.
Of course, Marvin didn't have a problem with this, that would be completely ridiculous. The guy was just a customer, nothing more, he was certainly not the only good thing with the early Sunday shift that he was permanently assigned, and he was certainly not Marvins type, ABSOLUTELY NOT.
Okay so maybe this was a problem, he normally spent the whole morning before he arrived preparing himself for Whizzer to walk through those doors.
Whizzer shook his head at the girl while laughing before walking up to the register, Marvin was still spellbound by the sound of his laugh when he reached him.
“Hi, How may I help you today?” they didn't actually have to say stuff like that to the customer, but it helped him when talking to Whizzer, Charlotte gave him a weird look, she doesn’t have the Sunday opening shift and wasn’t used to seeing him like this.
“Hi” queue that adorably smile “can I get a large Iced vanilla latte with two pumps of caramel and a medium normal caramel latte for Whizzer? Thank you.” Marvin thought that he could have asked for the moon and Marvin would probably have gotten it for him if just he promised to smile at him like that again. Not that he had stoped that was the thing with Whizzer he never seemed to stop smiling at Marvin he probably never stopped smiling at anyone but that included Marvin and he was eternally grateful for that.
“Of course that will be 11 dollars” Marvin could reenact this interaction in his sleep, he had thought enough about this small interaction to have had it memorized for about 2 months now.
Whizzer swiped his card, dug his hands down into his jacket pocket, fished some pocket change out and dumped them into the tip jar, gave an extra smile before he turned around and found his way back to his friend.
Marv again tried to convince himself that he was fine with Whizzer being here a day when he wasn’t supposed to and began scribbling down the orders on the cups, not that he needed to he could with ease remember them at this point, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep the elusion for Whizzer.
he was supposed to pass the cups on to Charlotte but she was doing homework and there weren’t any other customers than Whizzer and Cor-something, he hadn’t been as captivated by her. She was pretty even Marvin could see that, but he had probably been a little distracted by her friend.
He looked over at their table to see Whizzer laughing and the girl blushing she looked at Charlotte and then backed at Whizzer and started to lecture him on something, but she kept stealing glances at Charlotte,
oh of course!
He went over to the coffee machine, this place wasn’t really a real coffee shop per se, they didn’t make fresh coffee they just had a big complicated coffee machine, he put Whizzers cup in first and began pressing his order in, he leaned over to Charlotte and casual said “I think the girl at the table with boy likes you” Charlotte head whipped up, she looked over the bar and at table “no way” Marvin rolled his eyes “yes way, you should go say hi!” Charlotte laughed “NO WAY MARV!” she realized how loud she had been, and hurriedly looked back at her book.
Marvin chuckled and took the now two finished cups of coffee and was just about to carry them over to the table when he got an idea. Even though would never be able to get with Whizzer didn’t mean that Charlotte didn’t deserve a happy ending.
Marvin turned back to Charlotte “do you like her?” he asked her, she looked up at him like he had just asked her if he could live without oxygen “I don’t know her, but if you’re asking me if I find her attractive then yes.” Marv nodded waited to she was looking down again then he took one of the order notes and wrote Charlotte’s number down.
If it failed he could just say it was revenge for her refusing to take his shift the last time when he been hungover.
He then began his journey over to the table, as he was nearing, he couldn’t help but overhear a little bit of their conversation “I’m only asking her if you finally ask cof boy out” “that’s not fair she literally is in the LGBT club and he’s straight”.
Whizzer saw Marvin nearing their table and promptly shut up, and was that a blush? No, it must just have been from the cold it was February after all. “Here you go a vanilla ice coffee with two pumps of caramel and a caramel latte” he placed the coffee down in front of their respective owners and then turned towards the girl he didn’t want to even look at Whizzer while doing this, “and a phone number from my coworker, whos too embarrassed to look up from her book”
He gave her a smile and was about turn around and go back to the bar and try desperately to not lose the battle between his eyes and Whizzes body when he heard Whizzer clear his throat he turned around to look at the pretty boy, “I’m sorry this is probably the last thing you want to be asked right now, and you’re probably not interested and this is really stupid-” the girl decided to help her friend out “he wants to know if you would be interested to go out with him, he has the biggest crush on you ever” Marvin’s brain was in shock and Whizzers finally seemed to stop being in shock because he exclaimed “Cordelia!” and looked at her like she had just said that he had been planning to use a time machine and join Hitler under the 2 world war, he then looked panicked back at Marvin “you really don't have to! And I get that you’re probably straight and I completely get it don’t worry, you don’t even have to answer you can just walk away and I promise to never step into this coffee shop again.”
this somehow made Marvins brain restart again bc he began to blush deep, “I would love to.” was what he finally interrupted Whizzer with. “Wait really” Whizzer sounded so soft and shocked like he was afraid that he would ruin it if he was too loud. “Yeah” Marvin took an order note from his pocket and in a kinda trance wrote down “pls call me -Marvin” and scribbled his number under it, he gave it to Whizzer, smiled at him and walked back to the bar.
He was still trying to figure out what had happened, he looked over at Whizzer and it seemed he was trying to do the same, Whizzer was sitting there with that smile of his looking at the paper, while the girl Cordelia was giggling.
Charlotte looked at him like he was crazy for the third time that day “are you okay there Marv?” he turned and smiled at her “I just got us a date”.
#falsettos fic#falsettos fanfiction#whizzvin#marvin#marvin x whizzer#marvin falsettos#whizzer going down#whizzer brown
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Preggers Hero Wife HCs (Dekusquad Bois)
Iida Tenya:
SFW-
Boi worries over you big time after he finds out
Somehow becomes even more strict
“Maybe it’s about time you start taking time off-” “I’m only two months in, Tenya!”
Hovers over you like a mama hawk. His senses even heighten up
Ensures you only eat the most healthy and nutritious thing. Screw your cravings
Ensures you have proper meals and snacks inbetween to keep up your iron and avoid anemia (or more anemia)
Insists on you taking on the petty criminals and lower danger rated jobs
Informs the doctor on just about everything every appointment and probably gets kicked out of the room for taking over the appointment
Refuses to let you do anything! You need your rest and to stay off your feet, even if it means just staying in bed all day
“I heard agony and pain?!” “I stubbed my toe” “WHY ARE YOU WALKING?!”
“Hi, I’d like to request that my wife take her pregnancy leave early-” “Tenya, please! I’m fine”
Starts carrying you everywhere after six months. You can’t complain, tho. Personal chauffeur
NSFW-
Unsure about your sexual desires and intercourse as a whole during pregnancy
Refuses penetration, but will happily play with you
Careful about playing with your breasts because nipple stimulation can cause early labor
Is really careful when messing around while your pregnant
Interested in leaky tits but not taking the risk without a lot of coaxing and reassuring
Concerned about your sudden sex drive, but isn't complaining too much
“Oh, Tenya~” “Go to sleep, it’s too late for this”
Probably wants to slow down when the sex drive is up tbh
“I don’t feel this is appropriate this far into your gestation” “I’m just trying to get your dick wet, chill”
You constantly test his sexual patience
Todoroki Shouto:
SFW-
Hesitant af about everything
Probably accidentally makes offhanded comment about any weight gain
Your mood swings are his mood swings
Probably doesn't even believe your pregnant until you get weird cravings
Asks the doctor commonly known questions and reports stuff that is literally supposed to happen
"She wants weird food" "That's normal, Mr. Todoroki" "Why?!"
So confused
Lots of stomach touches and cuddles tho
Really enjoys rubbing the baby bump and using his quirk for soothing circles
Likes to just snuggle your belly and talk to the kid before bed
"God, you're so beautiful, honey" "Are you talking to me or the baby?"
Will literally cover your hand if you're rubbing your stomach
"Our child just kicked me" "They said you're squishing them and need to stop"
Makes you take off months before pregnancy leave
"Where are you going dressed like that?" "To the bathroom" "Why?" "The bladder of a pregnant woman"
Concerned about your new cravings and hates to say no
Constantly trails you like a puppy and just wants cuddles
Immediately quiets you when you start talking about any possible quirks they’ll have
NSFW-
High sex drive suddenly? Okay?! Yes!
Kisses just about every, EVERY part of your body
Just makes sure you feel equally as loved with his tongue
Oh? Your tits are leaking? Definitely sucking them dry until the baby comes (Probably does some sucking after that too ( ͡°ω ͡°))
Determined to fill you up with another kid (Bc he’s a Todoroki and they’ve all got bad breeding kink in their blood! Change my mind!)
You’re practically his little cow and he’s determined to make sure you’re even more loaded with his kids
Still sensually rubs over your stomach, but that hand tends to sink lower and give a little action down under
“Fuck honey, you seem so tight for someone about to give birth soon~ Want to spill your secret?” "I could fuck this pregnant cunt just about all the time with how good it feels"
Casually makes dirty comments throughout the day that do not help your libido
“We should probably give the kid a playmate as soon as they're born” “I wouldn’t mind you always being this pregnant when I come home everyday”
Takes you from just about every position that allows him to watch/play with your breasts and belly
Midoriya Izuku:
SFW-
Worry wart™
He’s so happy and he just has stockpiles of notes for just about every aspect
Asks 24/7 if you’re okay
“(Y/n)? How are you feeling?” “I’m fucking tired! It’s, like, 2 am?”
Makes surprise pop ups on you and the baby during his breaks
Impatiently awaits your required pregnancy leave bc he understands that being a hero was both of your dreams
BUT he also asks you every morning to take it easy for both your well-being and your unborn child’s
Caves and gives you junk food if you give him the right face or if your mood swings are just a little scary
Talks to the kid the time
He’s like a grown-child half the time
Let’s you do most of the talking during appointments, but does add the occasional thing or two you missed
Literally cries dangerous and destructive tears during each ultrasound
No longer allowed in the ultrasound room
Plays fricken music and educational things in the house ALL the time
“Baby Einstein?” “All Might gave it to me for the baby-” “Babe, this is for when they’re born”
Lots of snuggles and kisses for both you and the bump
It’s hard to evenly distribute thousands of kisses
Cries about everything you do. Like, you're just so beautiful and amazing and you're just doing so well
NSFW-
“Okay, I understand that you’re horny, but what if your water bursts mid-thrust”
Like Iida, avoids penetration but takes way less coaxing
prefers you ride him, bc 1. He gets a good view of you and your face to know if you’re in any form of pain 2. Bouncy, swelled breasts 3. He gets a good view
Hesitant about breast stimulation at first, but he’s a tits man and he really wants to try some of that milk if you’re lactating
Just really likes the swell of your tits
Holds tits a lot
Likes positions where he can fucking hold tits
Probably slips up amd calls you mommy bc it's his verse nature
"Mommy, your breasts taste so good and they're just so big! I-I can barely fit them in my hands"
Gets really embarrassed if you tease him about it
"Mommy's tits are leaking again, Izu~" "(Y-Y/n)!"
Legit, just send pics of your tits while he's at work and he'll immediately be home
Feels bad if he can’t keep up with your libido and just eventually caves into buying you new toys
Apologizes to the child before and after pounding her pussy
His pillow talk is literally directed at the child for a majority of the time
Aoyama Yuga:
SFW-
Compliments everywhere
The house is covered in fucking glittery sticky notes of compliments
Talks to the kid more than he works
Checks on you more than he works
You’re not even sure he still works
“Mon chouchou, you’re carrying our child so splendidly”
Kid should know everything about France by the time they’re born
He’s decorated the kid’s room in sparkles
You’re immediately on house arrest as soon as you begin showing
Asks for status updates every appointment and ensures he knows exactly what to do when the time comes
Hates for you to even lift a finger. He just wants you to rest and let him do all of the work for you. You’re his queen carrying their seed and you deserve the best
Cravings? Ah, no! This very healthy snack is a way better alternative
Plays off your mood swings
Just spoils you so much bc he just loves you and your tummy
Loves to just lightly caress your belly and whisper sweet nothings as soft music plays
Ah, romance is still super high in the household and there are practically rose petals at your heels
You’ve asked him to chill with the roses and you believe he listen- Nevermind, they’ve doubled
NSFW-
Who needs high libido when your receiving pleasure and compliments?
He knows when your pussy is begging to be fingered and honestly only takes you but so far
Careful around your breasts, especially if they’re leaking. It’s for your precious bundle on the way
However, if they really need relief, he’s ready to happily suck them dry
Can never decide how he’s pleasuring your clit, so he alternates between mouth and hand quite often
Loves dressing you up in baby doll lingerie! It just compliments you and your baby bump so much to him
Tokoyami Fumikage:
SFW-
You get double the love from both him and Dark Shadow
Dark Shadow is like the toddler curious of their new sibling while Fumikage is literally smitten with you both
Both are just constantly talking to the kid, one joking about someone with a bird head and the other warning their child about their father with a bird head
Frets over you more than he’d like to admit, even being around and checking on you outside of your knowledge
You’re caving bird seed and he’s questioning that outcomes
Mixed about food choices. He tries to stay in a nice blend of your... weird cravings and what you really need for optimal delivery
There are many bird-baby related questions to your doctor. You also have an on-call vet say it should be a very bird baby situation
Snuggles your stomach after a long day
Both him and Dark Shadow have made you a nest ‘
Randomly brings you your favorite food and you learn to not question it
Hates for you to leave home without him
Hates being away from both you and your kid for too long
NSFW-
Beak shoved in pussy a lot
Very awkward about lactating breasts bc he wants a taste, but he also doesn't want to hurt
Eventually caves but his very gentle about it
Refuses to pound pussy and prefers using toys on you instead
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FFT: witching hour; crowley
Notes:
Okay, so remember when I said Poppy was Crowley’s kid and Rowena’s grandkid? This whole bizarre idea to give them a father daughter moment came to me and I wrote it out. Then it got buried beneath all my other shit. But now that I’ve found it, I’m really happy I went this way with it bc... It kind of gives Crowley a smallish non selfish moment. Plus, I’m a sucker for father and daughter bonding stuff.
Summary:
Poppy is at her wits end because Dean has pushed her out. So, she turns to magic to at least try and find out if he’s okay and where he’s even at. Enter dear old Dad, who comes to her either as a figment of her imagination or straight from the depths of hell to talk some fucking sense into her after she’s decided to use the location given by her cast spell to go to Dean.
Warnings:
Crowley not being an utter selfish jerkoff. Which he could be a good portion of the time, esp towards the end. Witchcraft.
Pairing:
Crowley x OFC, Poppy - paternal ( father daughter) bonding.
It honestly felt like everyone she cared about had completely cut her out of the loop and Poppy didn’t like it one little bit. Currently, she found herself pacing the back room of her mom’s apothecary, which she’d gone to take over. Pacing and swearing under her breath.
The storm that had been brewing all week was finally reaching a noisy and scary climax, with winds and thunder that rattled the old glass panes in the shop windows. Poppy rubbed her arms and glared at the cell phone in her hands as once again, not only Dean’s cell phone, but also her grandmother’s and Sam’s as well went straight to voicemail.
“That’s it, I’m going to that bunker and I don’t even give one flying fuck how “dangerous” it is for me to be there with him. I’m going to him. I’m going to make sure he and my grandmother are alright, since apparently, everybody in the place has forgotten what a fucking mobile phone is used for.” Poppy’s tirade was interrupted by a slow clap from the back of the room and she turned, a scream dying on her lips as she saw her birth father leaned casually against the wall.
“Y’ know.. If I had raised y’.. I never would’ve allowed y’ t’ be with Dean Winchester of all people.” Crowley mused as he stepped into the light and just.. Stared at her. The flaming red hair his mother possessed, apparently, from what he’d heard around, his dry wit and quick temper. She certainly had several of his former low ranking demons quaking at her. He sighed and raised his hand, brushing shaggy growth back from her eyes.
“What are you doing here? You’re… You’re supposed to be dead.” she stammered, followed by flicking holy water on the man. Crowley chuckled and reached out, touching her temple as he answered calmly, “I’m here, poppet, because you summoned.”
“I did no such thing! I’m strictly white magic… Not whatever you are.. Were, I mean.”
“I’m yer father, y’ should be happy t’ see me.”
“I don’t know you.”
“Obviously, y’ wanted to, because you thinkin is why I’m manifesting here.” Crowley eyed his daughter, nodding to a rattan chair nearby.
Reluctantly, Poppy sat. Crowley paced back and forth, not much for the whole parental guidance thing but knowing that obviously, his daughter needed him, hence the reason he was pulled through his final rest and back here. To her.
He started by taking the keys and pocketing them.
“What the hell? You better give those…” but he laughed and shook his head no. “Dean Winchester himself pleaded with you to leave him alone. To have the normal life he can’t. Why on Earth are you rushing out to make sure he’s alright? And your so called grandmother?”
“Rowena has been more like family to me than almost everyone in my life ever was. Give me back my keys.” she went to raise her wand but Crowley was faster and the wand shot out of her hand and across the room. And then, she was sat back down and this time she couldn’t move.
Crowley set about making himself at home, although to Poppy’s shock, this apparently included him making them both a cup of tea and then swearing and complaining when the tea wasn’t to his liking. He finally sat down next to her and he sighed.
“I’m rubbish at this. The gist of this visit, Poppy, is to tell you that maybe you should listen to Dean and heed his warnings. Everyone those two love wind up dead or they wind up hurt. No father wants that for their child. Not even me, heartless bastard I’m told I am.”
His words shocked him. They shocked her too because she was opening and closing her mouth as if she didn’t know what to say. Finally, she sighed, a sad sound. “I know he’s right, I just… I can’t. I know this won’t amount to much with you, sir, but somehow Dean Winchester and I are linked. I gladly gave up a huge part of my heart when we met and I… Don’t know if I could ever get it back, if I even really wanted to. All I want to do is make sure he’s at least still alive… A world without him or my grandmother or Sam or any of them in it is a scary one for me, okay? They were family… At least I thought so until they cut me out.”
“They did what was best for you. Rowena made Dean swear to her that no harm would come t’ you. What they’re about t’ go through, Poppy.. There’s no place for you there. You need to be here, living a normal life.. Because that’s what Rowena and Dean want you to do.”
“So what do you do just blip around eavesdropping?” Poppy looked over at her father and the man shrugged, taking a sip of his tea and grimacing as he did. He put down the cup and answered after a few long seconds of staring at the window in front of them, “When it concerns one of the few people I might care about, I do.”
Before she could say anything else, he was fading and the lighting returned to normal and Poppy stared at her cell phone, sitting on her mom’s worktable. With a sigh, she turned it off and pocketed it.
After locking up the shop, she made her way down to the bar at the end of the block. After the conversation she just had, she needed more than one good stiff drink…. And she needed to think.
Did she listen to practical advice given to her by a father she barely knew? Or did she just go bursting in to the middle of things like she longed to do, that way she could at least attempt to keep those she cared about safer?
#crowley fanfiction#crowley fanfic#crowley fic#crowley oneshot#crowley imagine#// crowley + fatherly bonding is... weird to write#// but rewarding and fun#// supernatural fanfiction
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