#But no?!?! Did she just say she’s wAITING FOR A RANSOM?!?! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

georgiapeach30513 · 1 year

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I’m Not Supposed to Play with Boys

Summary: Ransom always gets what he wants. Even if he has to wait.

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, (step) dad’s best friend, smut, PIV sex, unprotected sex, age gap, dirty talk, D/s dynamics, degradation, teasing, edging, female masturbation/humping, fingering, finger in mouth, humiliation, body writing, oral sex (M receiving), daddy kink, voyeurism, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.6K

Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

Your dad looks at the rear view mirror. Watching your face as the car looms ever closer to the Thrombey estate. You try to remain neutral in your thoughts as more and more of the animal statues come into view. Counting each one because the closer they were, the closer you got to the mansion. And you hope that the person you had been longing to see was there.

Your dad sighs, and you look at the reflection of his cobalt eyes, “Ransom is going to be here today, and I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

“You’re not my real dad, and I’m not a child.”

“You are visiting from college, and this is my friend’s family home,” his voice gets a bit more of an edge to it, and you roll your eyes. He was so predictable. Expected perfection from you. Because you reflected on him.

“Honey, just listen to your dad,” your mom yawns, pushing her seat back, and closing her eyes. There wasn’t even that much further to go, and she was already sleepy from who knows what. Your step-father rolls his eyes as the creepy estate comes into view, but that pretty little Beemer was nowhere insight.

“Do you think Linda would mind me taking a nap?” Your mom pets on his arm, and you feel like getting sick. She was more of a friend than a mother. She had you when she couldn’t even legally drive. It was like the two of you had grown up together. And sometimes you wondered if she was still trying to sew her wild oats.

He slowly removes his foot from the accelerator, throwing the car into park, “I’m going to see if they need any help in the kitchen,” you jump out before he could say anything. He was going to wait outside with the family, while your mother took her ‘nap’. You were going to wait where you could hopefully see that Beemer drive up. They didn’t need help in the kitchen. Everything was already outside. But you did exactly what Ransom had asked you to. And now you wait.

——

Ransom spots his best friend’s car, and gets a big grin on his face. He was told that you were home from Harvard. He doesn’t waste time saying his hellos, he needs a snack. From the kitchen. Into the house he walks, and straight into the kitchen. He must have been quieter than he had thought. You hadn’t noticed him.

Your back is to him, and he notices slow little movements forward. Right at the table. A soft little whimper is music to his ears. He opens up a cabinet for a packet of cookies, and you push off the table, “What cha doing?” He looks all the way down your body before meeting your stare with an arrogant grin.

“N-n-nothing,” you answer quickly. Smoothing down your dress as you look at anything that wasn’t him. You have never been more embarrassed in your life.

“Looked like you were humping the edge of the table. Where you fucking my grandpa’s table?” You shake your head no, starting to retreat out of the kitchen. “Wait. I’m not finished talking to you. If I happen to lift that little skirt of yours am I going to see that pretty pussy wet?”

“Um…no,” why was him embarrassing you like that making you more heated? Why was there a fresh gush of your juices to your core at the sound of his voice?

“Be a good girl, and lift up your skirt. Come on, I wanna see. Just wanna know if you’re still a desperate little slut for me,” slowly you lift up your skirt, and indeed the cotton gusset of your panties are darkened with your slick. “You were saying?” He chuckles, looking back up at you.

“I’m sorry, Ransom. I…”

“Oh, sweet little princess, what made you so weak in the knees? What’s got you all needy and grinding on that old table?”

Your eyes drift down to the floor, and your cheeks heat up in flames. He was going to make you say it, and you couldn’t. You mustn’t. “You know who.”

“Yeah, but that crush was a couple of years ago. You can’t still have a thing for little ole me, right?”

“I — I had sex like you asked. I’ve got experience now,” your voice is desperate when you try to tell Ransom that you followed his rules for you when you graduated. You followed his instructions perfectly. Listened to every word. “I…”

“And you’re still a needy fucking thing. What is that you want? You want to suck my fat cock?”

“Yes! Please!” Ransom’s mouth turns up into a devilish smirk. Lifting his hand up, he curls his finger, beckoning you to him.

You get almost to him, but he backs away, “No, no. Show me what you were doing just a minute ago. But hold your skirt up. I wanna watch. Show me how you get off when you think of me,” you gulp deeply as you walk back to the edge of the table. Lifting up your skirt when you settle yourself on the mahogany. Your lips spread over the wood, and it touches right on your clit, and you start grinding on it.

“There ya go. I bet that feels good on your desperate little cunt, hmm? You thinking of my cock splitting you open?”

“Yeah,” whining as you grind down even harder.

“Fucking you so hard that your head is pounding on headboard.”

“Yeah. Yes!”

“Have you screaming out ‘Fuck me harder, daddy,” your hips race your forward. Getting so close that you're panting out his name. Getting just right to edge, when Ransom places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you off the table, “I didn’t say you could come, you greedy little slut. Now let’s see how wet you are,” he shoves his fingers into your panties, and you moan when he gathers up your slick.

Holding out his hand, he stretches his fingers out, letting you see just how sticky and wet the mess in your panties is. Smiling at his fingers before he presses them past your lips, “Be a good girl, and clean me off,” closing your mouth around his fingers, you suck yourself off him. Circling your tongue around his thick digits. Almost creaming your panties when you hear him moan.

“Now, let's go say hey to your dad. I’m sure a good handshake covered in your juices is just what he needs. Stay wet and messy,” he walks out, leaving you alone and uncomfortable with how wet you are. Nothing left to do but follow him outside.

——

Ransom smirks at you from across the lawn. He has been having a steady conversation with your dad, but his eyes are always on you. He knows how uncomfortably soaked you are, and he finds it hilarious. It is a game to him to lick his lips, and readjust himself. Waiting until you were swishing your thighs together when you see his thick girthy cock in his palm. It was unfair.

Grunting, you stomp back inside. Needing to get something to drink. Who knew, maybe even taking a cold shower. Anything had to be better than what Ransom was doing to you. And the worst part was he knew! He knew that he was driving you crazy.

“Did I make you mad, Princess?”

“You’re making me crazy! I’m soaked, and I’m horny, and you knew. You knew what you were doing when…”

“You don’t like me teasing you?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you shake your head no. Ransom looks you up and down as he steadily walks closer to you. Getting right in front of you when he leans to your ear. Sniffing up the side of your neck. His breath on you went straight to your core as more slick floods your underwear, “Get on your knees.”

“What?” What was his game? What did he want from you?

“Get on your knees, and suck my cock, Princess. It’s hard and waiting on your filthy little mouth. Get on your knees now,” turning around, you can see the party going on outside. He wasn’t serious. The window was right there. Your dad was right there. With a view straight inside to you and Ransom.

“You want my cock? Well, here it is,” you look down between the two of you and his pretty cock is the only thing separating you. Beads of precum at the tip making it look all glistening and pretty, and you crave to taste it.

His thumb rubs over his slit, smearing his leaking juices over his thumb, and he paints the liquid on your lips, “Suck. My. Cock,” slowly you sink to your knees, kissing up his protruding vein, “As much as I would like for you to take your time, we do have an audience out there. You wouldn’t want daddy to see me fucking your pretty little face, would you?”

“Uh-uh,” you whine as he pushes his length into your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks, and grip the back of his thighs. Rolling your eyes up to look at him. His hand pets over your neck a moment before he starts thrusting into you. You let him take control. Allowing him to use your mouth as his personal fuck toy.

He holds tightly to your head as he fucks into you. His eyes moving from your pretty face, stuffed with him, and then out to the guests outside, “Have you seen my daughter?” Your dad yells. You try to scurry away, but Ransom holds you tighter. His pelvis propelling into you more.

“No. I think she had an upset stomach. Maybe she’s been stuffing her mouth full,” Ransom snorts. Casually talking to your dad while he drives into you. He glances back down to you. Your weight had settled on one of his feet, and while he was fucking your face, you were grinding on his foot like a bitch in heat.

“You think daddy can hear you gagging? You think he knows that you're drooling for my cock?” You whimper, holding onto him tighter. Undulating your hips, and soaking his foot with your arousal. You are dripping wet. Needy and ready to come. Sputtering around his member, your drool leaks down your neck. “You filthy little slut couldn’t wait for me to fuck one of her holes, could she? You gonna be my little slut? You gonna call me daddy instead?”

“Mhmm,” he pulls himself out of your mouth, and you gasp for air. Your lungs sting as oxygen rushes to fill them up. His cock slaps across your face, and you don't understand.

“Say it. Call me daddy. Tell me how bad you want my cock. Even though I feel that sloppy cunt throbbing on my foot. I need to hear you say it.”

“Daddy, I want you to fuck my face. Need you to come in my throat?” Grabbing your head, he crams himself back into your mouth. Stabbing into you so fast. So deep he was making your throat bulge out. And your body hunger for more air.

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you. Almost there. Gotta hurry. Can’t let anyone see you being my pretty little slut. Taking this big fat cock like a good girl. Uh! Uh! Oh!” His head tilts back, and his load shoots into the back of your throat. You moan at the salty musk that is Ransom. Your hips fuck down on him harder. Getting right there…

“I still didn’t tell you to come,” he meanly states, pushing you off him.

“Ransom! That’s not fair! I want to come, too.”

“What did you call me?”

“Daddy!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” his voice is so patronizing as he lifts your skirt, “Spread your legs. Let daddy see what a pitiful little pussy this is,” you do as you're told, and he moves your panties aside. Staring at your pulsing cunt with a smile. “Pitiful,” he lets a drip of his spit drop onto your pussy, and you moan at the cool sensation.

“What’s going on?” Your dad’s shadow falls into the kitchen, and over Ransom’s back, and you slap your hands over your skirt, covering yourself up.

“Oh, she fell,” Ransom says quickly. Nodding to your dad as Ransom offers his hand down to him. “I think maybe she should lay down somewhere. She was acting a bit delirious.”

Your dad looks between the two of you, clearly not believing a word that either of you had said, “You’ll miss the fireworks.”

“I’ve seen fireworks before. Ransom is right, dad, I just don’t feel right. Must be all the excitement today.”

“Go upstairs, third door on the left. There’s a window that you’ll be able to see all the fireworks,” you give him a nod as you walk up the stairs slowly. “Is everything okay?” Ransom asks with a smirk. He caught him spitting into your cunt. He knows his friend saw you all spread out for him.

“She fell, huh?” He asks. His eyes darkening as he walks closer. Looking down at the floor to see a wet spot. You were messy.

“Yep,” Ransom answers, popping his p. He holds his hands out shrugging, “I don’t know what to tell you. Your daughter is clumsy. She tends to make a mess, too. Did you know she was a messy little thing?”

“She’s not my real daughter,” he had to add that little bit of information. Had to let Ransom know when he was looking at you, it was okay.

“Yeah, but you did really marry her mom. Maybe you should go outside, daddy-o. Isn’t your wife finally awake?” He shakes his head no, starting to walk back out. Flinging his head towards the door. Wanting Ransom to follow. He had no such plans. He was going to fuck you during these fireworks. “Are you that lonely that you need me with you?”

“Are you?” His eyebrow cocks up, “Do you need me with you?”

“Touché. Listen, I don’t want to be crass, but…”

“She fell, huh? Is she going to fall again?”

“Yep. Fall right on my dick.”

——

“You ready to come, Princess? I got the perfect seat for you to enjoy your fireworks. Look at this seat daddy prepared for you,” Ransom fists his cock a few times as you walk closer to him. “There ya go. You gonna show daddy what you learned in school? I’m sure Harvard is all boring, but what did those boys teach you in your dorm?”

“I want you to fuck me, though,” tonight was all about you doing all the work. You wanted nothing more than for Ransom to take advantage of you. Didn’t care if everyone could hear you screaming. You wanted him.

“Oh, Princess, this first time I want you to show daddy what those silly college boys taught you. Sit on my lap. Let daddy stretch you out,” taking a deep breath, you walk over to Ransom. Straddling his legs, you grab the base of his cock, and run it through your slit.

Looking into Ransom’s eyes, you slowly sink down over him, biting at your lip. None of the boys from school felt like him. None of them looked like him. And when you sink balls deep on him, you know that none of them have ever been that deep. Couldn’t even wish to reach the depths that Ransom did, “Daddy!”

“I know, Princess. Daddy has such a big cock. You just sit like that until your pussy doesn’t hurt anymore. I got her all stretched out, huh?” You nod your head as you bite your lip. Overwhelmed because you finally feel Ransom. Finally have him inside of you. Something you have dreamed about for years. “You feel me in your belly, honey?”

“Yeah. But it feels good.”

“Yeah it does. You gonna let me cum in this tight little pussy? You are so pretty when you’re a mess,” you slowly start to grind over Ransom. Getting a better feel of him before you start to bounce on top of him. Letting your pussy suck him right back in as deep as you could take him. “Your titties do look pretty bouncing in my face.”

Fireworks boom outside the window, but you only see Ransom. His mouth chases your tits, just so he can give your buds a nibble. “Daddy!”

“I know, Princess. Daddy wouldn’t let you come earlier today, because it makes you that much more needy. It hasn’t been that long, and I feel your pussy fluttering around me. My god, I don’t even think I can last.”

BOOM, “Daddy!”

“Tell me what you need, Princess. Let daddy give it to you.”

BOOM! POP! “Daddy!”

“You keep getting louder. They can’t hear you. Tell daddy what you want.”

“Daddy! I wanna come! Daddy, let me come!”

“Your daddy will make sure you come,” Andy steps up behind you, those thick arms wrapping around your stomach. One hand spreads your lips further apart, while the other starts making tight circles over your clit. “Does my sweet girl wanna come?”

“Yes! Daddy, I wanna come!”

“Woah, woah. I’m daddy, and this is my princess,” Ransom pouts up at his best friend. He knew letting Andy watch was a bad idea. Sick bastard.

“Daddy is gonna help you come,” Andy moans, while you continue to ride Ransom, Andy has got you feeling like you're flying. Overstimulated, and then he starts to kiss along your neck, while Ransom starts sucking on your tit. His other hand rolls your nipples between his fingers. Everything felt good. Every part of you feels so fucking good. Your skin is buzzing with euphoria. “Go on, Princess. Come. Daddy’s gonna let you come.”

“Daddy!” You scream as your leg starts trembling. “Daddy! Daddy I’m coming! I’m coming!”

“Fuck, Andy, she’s got me in a vice grip. Squeezing me so fucking hard. There, baby. Keep riding daddy, yeah! Fuck yeah!” You moan as Ransom spurts creamy ribbons of his thick cum deep into your core. Your walls pulse around him, milking every bit of his spend out on him. “Fuck me!”

“I believe she just did. Princess, you okay?” You get a dopey smile on your face, whispering yes. “That was incredible. How long have you two been fucking?”

“Just this once, Andy. Now, I let you play with your daughter a bit, but why don’t you let me clean her up. You’re married. Don’t need to be fucking your daughter anyways.”

“Quit calling her my daughter! She’s not my real daughter,” your eyes start to slowly close as you let your high wash over you. You had him. He was still in you. He had filled you up, and it feels so fucking good.

“You’re just saying that because you want to fuck her. You,” both men stop when you get up, and lay on the bed on your back. “Princess, why don’t you spread your legs,” your eyes fully close, and you spread your legs. Putting your gaping cunt on display for both men.

They stare at your pretty and stretched out channel, and when Ransom's cum starts to leak out, they both gasp. “My god if that isn’t the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s on birth control. Her mom was scared she was sleeping around too much in college. Let me guess, that was your doing?”

“Yeah, I don’t do virgins. They get attached too easily. Plus, I had her riding daddy’s cock like her life depended on it. Could you see how deep she took me from your angle?”

“Yes,” Andy rolls his eyes. “Saw you destroying her pussy.”

“Just wait until I fuck her. Mmm, my cock is getting hard again. If you don’t want to see me fuck your daughter in her sleep, I suggest you leave now. Because I’m going to fuck that slut right into the mattress. It’s too soon to share her. You were supposed to just watch.”

Andy Barber never just watches. He would fuck you too. He’d make Ransom watch as he pounds into you. Instead of going to you, Ransom grabs up a pen, “What are you doing?”

“Reminding her,” he says, scribbling ‘obedient’ on one inner thigh. ‘Good girl’ written on the other. “Princess, who owns your pussy?”

“You do, daddy. That’s daddy’s pussy,” Ransom looks back at his friend with a smile. “It’s all daddy’s. Whenever daddy wants it.”

“Daddy’s cumdump?”

“Uh huh,” you smile as he writes cumdump on your belly.

“Daddy's pretty little cum princess.”

“Yep,” Andy stomps out of the room, making sure to slam the door. And you pout up at Ransom.

“He’s just jealous that I’m going to pump you so full of cum, you won’t know what to do with yourself. My pretty little princess cumslut.”

“Just daddy’s.”

“Unless daddy wants to share?”

“Unless daddy wants to share,” oh Ransom is going to have too much fun with you. His personal little sex toy. One he was going to have a lot of fun playing with. And showing off. His little fuckdoll that wanted him to do whatever he wanted. And he would. “Daddy, I’m sleepy.”

“You want daddy to hold you while you take a nap?” Nodding your head, you make grabby hands up at Ransom, and he crawls into the bed beside you. “Okay, get some sleep, Princess. You gotta be rested, so I can fuck you, right?”

“Right. Shh.”

“I know. Sleep. Dream. And I’ll be right here.”

Masterlist

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#i'm not supposed to play with boys #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #DBF!Ransom drysdale #dbf!ransom #dbf!ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fics #ransom drysdale fic #chris evans #chris evans character

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krirebr · 3 months

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More Than This 7

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~3.9k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, fighting, my own rampant abuse of italics and em dashes, non-stop continuous action (not the car chase kind, but like, the no section breaks kind), the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: There's no going back now.

Permanent thanks, as always, to @paperweight91 who lets me talk her ear off about this and always has the best input.

I cannot wait to talk to you all about this one, so please leave me a comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think! And if you need to come scream at me, that's even better!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You woke up to the sun streaming in through the windows. You rolled over and checked the time. It was after nine. You’d slept hard—the exhaustion of everything catching up with you. And yet you still hadn’t woken up feeling rested. You couldn’t remember the last time you did.

You grabbed your phone and groaned when you saw all the notifications. Texts, missed calls, two voicemails. All from Steve. He was freaking out.

Are you ok?

Did something happen?

Please call me

And a few more just like them. You were too tired to answer. You didn’t know how. Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t ignored your messages before. You grimaced at your own pettiness. You would answer him when you knew what to say.

As soon as Lola noticed you were awake, she hopped off your makeshift bed and ran to the door, scratching at it to be let out. You sighed. Of course, the safety of your isolation couldn’t last forever. The good news was that it was late enough that Ransom must be gone. You could put that off at least until the evening.

When you opened the door, Lola at your heels, you heard someone moving around downstairs. You hadn’t thought it was a Carol day, but you must’ve lost track. It wasn’t until you were halfway down the stairs that you saw Ransom puttering around in the kitchen, his back to you. Your stomach dropped. Shit shit shit. Why was he here? You contemplated running back into the gym, but as soon as she saw him, Lola darted out ahead of you and raced down the stairs so she could dance around at his feet. He crouched down to greet her. “Morning, Lola,” he rumbled, his voice still full of sleep. “D’you have a good night?” She hopped up and down, pawing at his leg.

You took a deep breath and gathered all of your courage. “She wants breakfast,” you said from your place on the stairs.

His head whipped up to you. He stood up awkwardly. “Oh, uh, where’s her food?”

You came down the rest of the stairs and passed in front of him into the kitchen. “I’ll do it,” you said as you went straight to the cabinet where you kept Lola’s meal supplies.

Once you had her fed and briefly let her out the back door, you noticed multiple bags of take-out on the island. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, uh,” Ransom rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at you. “I thought we should probably have breakfast. Together. And I didn’t really know what you like, so…” he shrugged.

You quickly took stock of the food. There were diner waffles, pastries from a bakery, eggs benedict from a fancy brunch place. “Thank you,” you said. “That’s nice.” You grabbed a danish from the pastry bag and sat down at the island. “I, uh–” you started then stopped, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I freaked out last night. I, uh– I don’t know what happened. I– I was scared, I guess, by the–” you gestured to your stomach. “But um, I shouldn’t’ve– It won’t happen again, you know? I’m fine now. Everything’s fine.”

Ransom leaned against the counter, facing you, and closed his eyes. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, then looked you straight in the eyes and said, “I’m so fucking tired of that word.”

You set down your pastry and looked at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re always so fucking fine, aren’t you? I ask how your day was, it was fine. I ask how you feel about something, it’s fine. I ask what’s wrong when you’re clearly upset, and you say, ‘Oh nothing, everything’s fine.’ It’s fine! It’s fine! It’s fine! I can’t hear it one more time.”

All you could do was sputter for a moment. “What– What are you talking about?! I’ve just been doing what you wanted!”

“How is this what I wanted?” he asked, his frustration shocking you..

But then, your mind started to catch up a bit and you were suddenly filled with indignation. “You told me to pack light! You– You– You made it clear! I know you don’t want me here so I’m just– I’m just trying to do what you want! I'm staying out of your way!”

He laughed and the hollow sound was so startling. “This is you staying out of my way? You’re just this presence that’s always here! That makes me feel unwelcome in my own home!”

That had you standing up so quickly that it sent the stool you’d been on tumbling to the floor behind you. A frightened Lola scampered up the stairs, her collar tinkling sharply, but neither of you noticed.

“What?!” you shouted, “How could– I– This is your house! How could you ever feel unwelcome here? I’ve never felt welcome here for even a moment! I’m not even a guest here, I’m just this, this– I don’t know! I’m just this pest that you wish you could exterminate but you can’t. You don’t want me here and I feel it every single day.”

“Well, you’ve never told me that, have you?” He almost growled out. “I’m just supposed to know! I see you making this list in your head of everything I’m doing wrong, all the ways I’m disappointing you but you never say anything about any of it. But then when I don’t know how to fix any of it, because I don’t actually know what’s wrong, you resent me for it!” You started to open your mouth and he slammed a hand down on the island between you. “Don’t deny it. I can see it whenever you look at me. You’ve decided that I’m the villain here, right? I’m the bad guy in this story. And I don’t–” He moved his hands to his hips and looked away from you, shaking his head. “I have no idea who you are,” he said, quieter now but no less forceful. “You don’t want me to. You have me just grasping at straws and– But you’ve just decided, huh? That you know exactly who I am.”

All you could do for a full fifteen seconds was just gape at him. He looked tired suddenly. Sad, as if that made any sense at all with anything that had happened. But then you remembered everything that had happened and your anger came flooding back. “Yes, I know who you are. Of course, I do! Because you showed me! It’s like you’ve completely forgotten how we met. Or our wedding!” A tear fell down your cheek and you knew more were about to follow, ready to tip over your lashes. You wanted to wipe them away, but you also just couldn’t take the time to stop right now. “You were awful! Really fucking awful. Right from the beginning you were so cruel and– and now– No! I– How can you expect me to come to you with anything when you all but told me not to during that first dinner?! When you told me you didn’t want me taking up any space here? Or that you would get rid of Lola?! Of course I don’t talk to you! What am I supposed to talk to you about when you terrify me? When everything I have comes from you and you don’t give me anything? When you hold all of the power?!”

“What fucking power?” Ransom shouted, throwing his arms wide. “If I had any power at all, neither of us would be in this mess!”

“It’s still more than I have! I have nothing! You’re the heir. You matter to people. I’ve only ever been a bargaining chip. And now that they’ve made the deal, no one gives a shit what happens to me. You could do anything to me, and they wouldn’t care! Even my mom–” You cut yourself off, tears choking your voice.

There was a beat of silence, and then, “Even your mom what?” Ransom asked, his voice rough. He was staring at you like the next words out of your mouth would be the most important ever spoken.

And it was only because you felt it too, everything riding on this, that you managed to say, your voice so small and your eyes downcast, “She only ever asks if I’m making you happy.”

When he didn’t say anything to that, you looked back up to find him staring at you, his eyes incredibly serious. But not angry, something– something else. Finally, he sighed and, putting both elbows on the island, said, “I’m really fucking miserable. How ‘bout you?”

You would try to examine it later, the way your instinct in that moment was to apologize or try to downplay your own feelings, your mom’s voice in your head no matter how much you hated it, but instead you took a deep breath and said, “Yeah, I’m– I’ve been so unhappy.”

He nodded then scrubbed a hand over his face. “I think,” he said slowly. “I think we’ve both been acting like if we just ignore this hard enough we’ll wake up one day and this will be over and our lives will go back to normal. But now with the–,” he gestured to you. “We can’t keep doing that. We gotta– We have to figure out a way to live with this.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, wrapping one arm around your stomach. You couldn’t help but look at him a little warily. Was this real? Did he mean it? “How do we do that?”

He chuckled ruefully. “I don’t know.”

You just looked at him for a moment before you were interrupted by your stomach growling loudly. “Sorry,” you said, awkwardly. “I didn’t eat much last night.”

“Right,” he said with a decisive nod, “breakfast.”

You each served yourselves from all the food he’d ordered. He righted the stool you knocked over and you both sat down to eat. You didn’t say anything, neither of you did. You figured he had just as much to think about as you did.

You couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d said he had no idea who you were. It’d been easy, maybe, to forget that this was something that had happened to both of you, when you were in his house, facing his family, working your way into his life. It’d never occurred to you, after that first meeting, that he might want to get to know you, might want to see past all the walls you’d put up to protect yourself. But you felt like they were fortified now. You weren’t sure how to take them down.

Even though you kept your focus on your food, you could tell he kept glancing at you. You felt his eyes on you every few minutes. Finally, as you both finished up your food, he cleared his throat. “I’m an asshole,” he said quietly. “I just am. I always have been. But uh, you didn’t– You didn’t deserve that at dinner. Or the wedding. Or when I yelled at you last night. It didn’t– I don’t think it occurred to me that you’d take me, what I said, seriously. I’m not used to people listening to me, not like that.”

You stared at your plate for a moment and tried to keep breathing. “I– Of course, I took you seriously. What else would I do? I didn’t know you and I was already so scared and– How was I supposed to know you didn’t mean it?” You could feel yourself starting to cry again and wiped furiously at your eyes.

He sighed heavily. “Yeah, I– I didn’t do a good job of understanding how hard this was for you. And I– I’ll try not to do that again.”

All you could do with that was nod.

“But uh– I need you to talk to me, tell me when something’s wrong. I can’t– I need you to talk to me. I’ll, uh, I won’t be mad or– I feel like the few times you’ve let yourself be upset, those are the only times I felt like I could actually see you. I want to be able to see you.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m uh,” you started, trying to find your words. “I’m used to having to put on a mask. It’s really hard for me to not do that.”

He nodded slowly. “How ‘bout,” he said, “I’ll try to be less of an asshole if you try to let yourself be more of one?”

You laughed. You couldn’t help it, it just bubbled out of you, to your own surprise. “Sure,” you smiled, “yeah. Deal.” You met his eyes and he looked proud of himself. There was something about the way he was looking at you that made you have to look away. You put all your attention into taking a last bite of your food.

“So,” he said, and he sounded serious again. “I think we should talk about last night.”

It took everything in you to not shrink down. You wanted to do anything else, but he was right. You needed to. So you nodded and waited for him to start.

“You said– Well. You said a lot of things. But let’s start with– You said I keep you trapped here.”

Your brow furrowed a little bit. “Well, yeah, you only have one car and you don’t have a driver. How am I supposed to go anywhere?”

The dawning realization on his face would have almost been comical if it had been about something that hadn’t caused you so much pain. “Oh my god,” he said. “I– Why didn’t you– No, right. Yeah.” He took out his phone and started typing. “I’ll figure something out. Do you drive?”

“Steve taught me, a little, when I was a teenager. But I’m not– I’m not super comfortable,” you shrugged.

“Ok,” he said typing a few more words, then put his phone down. He looked at you very seriously and said, “Now I need you to tell me exactly what you meant about siccing my mom on you.”

“Oh, well, just that she came over, you know, the next day after I told you I wanted to find a job.”

Ransom’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Here? She came here?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, not entirely sure what was happening. “She let herself in and said you’d talked to her about how I wanted to work and that you wanted me to focus on giving you a family. That that was my job now.”

Ransom’s face darkened in a way you’d never seen before. “Fucking–” he growled. “Goddamnit.” You watched him warily and when he made eye contact, you saw the way he worked to soften his expression. He shook his head. “I never said that. I just, I brought it up to her because she has connections, you know, in surprising places. I should have known. I was stupid. And when you didn’t bring it up again, I just, I assumed it hadn’t worked out and you didn’t want to talk about it.” He took a deep breath, clearly trying to make himself calm down. “Did she say anything else?”

You looked at him carefully. It was almost like he looked different today, something about him. It really did seem like he was trying. So you took a breath and decided to trust him. “She wasn’t very nice to me. She never is. She’s– She’s only ever been awful to me.”

“Yeah,” he said grimly, “that’s fucking Linda. Alright, she comes here again, I want you to tell me. Don’t even talk to her, just call me right away. She tries to call you, you tell me. She ever says anything to you, you tell me, ok?”

“Yeah,” you said, and you didn’t know how to guard yourself from the warmth that spread through you. “I’ll tell you.”

He nodded. “Good. And if you still want to get a job, I’ll help you, ok? I want to do that.”

“Yeah, I,” you sighed, “I don’t know. Everything’s really overwhelming right now.”

“I get that,” he said, “but if you change your mind, let me know.”

“I will,” you promised. Then, when he didn’t immediately bring up another topic from the night before, you raised one of your own. “Um, you never use your gym.” He looked at you, confused, and you shook your head at yourself. “Sorry, it’s just, you have all those rooms upstairs that you never use, and well, you and I,” you rested a hand on your belly, “we did what we needed to do, right? So, uh, I’m having my bedroom furniture shipped here and if it’s alright, I’d like to, uh, turn that room into my room.”

There was a long pause, long enough for you to get uncomfortable, start to worry that you’d messed up. His face was blank, you couldn’t find any clues there. Then, finally, he seemed to shake himself and said, “Yeah, sure, of course. I’ll, uh, I’ll have it cleared out for you.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Great! Thank you! I’m sure you’ll be happy to have your own space back.”

“Right, yeah,” he said and nodded several times. “Yeah.”

You both got quiet again after that, but it didn’t feel as oppressive as it often had before. Eventually, you began cleaning up breakfast together. As you moved around him in the kitchen to load the dishwasher, you paused. “Hey, uh, what’d you tell your parents? About last night, dinner?”

“Oh,” he said, turning to you from the fridge. “Just that I was suddenly violently ill and we couldn’t make it.”

That stopped you completely. You’d been bent over as you loaded plates, but now you stood up, giving him all of your attention. “Really? You didn’t– didn’t blame me? Or uh, tell them about–”

He finished what he was doing and closed the fridge, then closed some of the space between you. “What? No, fuck that. Listen, any excuse to not have to deal with Richard and Linda is welcome. I’m serious. Fuck them.”

That was when everything really hit you, just how badly you'd misread so much of what had happened. Of all the pain you’d suffered over the past months, how much of it had been self-inflicted? Would everything have been so much easier, for both of you, if you’d just been willing to talk to him? For what felt like the thousandth time that morning, you felt your eyes beginning to well. You tried to turn your head away, but Ransom noticed before you could.

“Hey,” Ransom said quietly as he approached you cautiously, stopping right in front of you, his hands hovering in the air between you both. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know,” you said, your voice tight. “I don’t know. I just– Everything’s just been so hard.”

Ransom sighed, heavily. “Yeah. I know.”

“Um,” you let out a defeated, embarrassed little laugh as the tears began to fall down your face. “Do you think it’s too early to blame pregnancy hormones?” you asked, as you tried to make yourself stop crying.

Instead of dismissing it as a joke, Ransom looked at you very seriously. “I think that you can do whatever the fuck you want.”

There was something about that, the way it felt like acceptance, that made the tears come even harder.

It was then, of course, that your phone started vibrating on the counter, Steve’s ID flashing on the screen. “Oh,” you said, “um, shit.” You just stared at it, not quite able to pick it up. “I, uh, texted him last night. During everything. I’m sure he’s freaking out now.”

“Right,” Ransom nodded. “Well, I’ll give you some privacy.”

You were suddenly filled with the ridiculous need to not be alone right now. “Uh, yeah, thanks. But, uh, maybe, maybe don’t go far.” Your voice dropped out a little at the end of the sentence, embarrassed.

He looked at you carefully and you couldn’t imagine what he saw. A mess, probably. “Yeah,” he said, “of course. I’ll be just upstairs. Shout if you need me.”

Then he left and you took a deep breath. The call had gone to voicemail while you’d dithered, so you called Steve back, sure he’d try again anyway if you delayed any further.

He picked up immediately. “Oh thank god,” he breathed. “What’s going on? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just–” you began, trying to keep your voice strong. But of course, you couldn’t hide from Steve.

“Are you crying?” he asked gruffly. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not, Steve,” you lied.

“Chipmunk,” he said, sadly, knowing how hard the childhood nickname would hit you. “What’s going on? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You closed your eyes as tightly as you could. “Nothing. It’s just–” You knew you had to tell him something but you had no idea where to start. You could tell him, you supposed, about– about the baby, but it felt impossible to say out loud. And you had no idea how he’d react. Or, rather you had a very good idea, and it was very, very bad. You didn’t have the energy for that. Or the strength and courage. Not now. Maybe not ever. But you couldn’t talk about what happened the night before and this morning without mentioning that part, so really, you couldn’t talk about anything. And you knew your brother. You knew how that would go over. “I’m tired. And I miss you.”

He was silent for several moments. When he finally spoke, all he said was, “I know something happened.”

“It didn’t Steve. Everything’s fine.”

“I know you’re lying to me. Why are you lying?” He was pleading now and you were too tired and hormonal for this.

“Steve,” you pleaded right back, your voice breaking just a little. “Can you please just believe me? Just this once?”

There was another long pause, and then, “Goddammit, I hate this. I can’t– I worry about you all the time. Every time I see a missed call or text from you, my stomach drops. But now you won’t talk to me. And I can’t help you. I don’t know what to do about any of it.”

“Steve,” you sighed. “I know you think you should always be able to fix everything, but there’s just nothing for you to fix this time, ok? Please?”

He just sighed and you both quietly sat on the phone together. You didn’t know what to say to him but couldn’t hang up. Finally, he broke the silence with “I really fucking miss you.”

You smiled just a little, even as you wiped the tears from your face. “I fucking miss you too. And I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said quietly. He sighed again. “Ok, I should go. But we’ll talk again soon. Take care of yourself.”

“Ok,” you said softly. “Bye.” You hung up and set your phone down then put your head in your hands and let yourself cry without trying to stop it. You didn’t notice anything happening around you until you felt a weight settle onto the couch beside you and suddenly your lap was full of Lola. Then a hand gingerly touched your back. When you didn’t move away, it started gently moving up and down. You couldn’t help but lean into it.

The strangest sensation came over you. You couldn’t explain it, but as you sat there on the couch, crying while Ransom rubbed your back, you somehow felt the best you had in months.

Tag list is open

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#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out #chris evans fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #arranged marriage au #more than this #kris wrote something

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writingwithciara · 7 months

Text

For The Cameras ~Matt Sturniolo~

summary: a kiss cam produces unexpected results

word count: 1.9k (not as long as normal but a decent length imo)

pairing: matt sturniolo x reader

note: got a sweet message from @lolasturniolo and i loved the prompt. hope you don’t mind that i made it a sorta friends-to-lovers fic 😊

masterlist

“so who are we taking to the game tonight? we have 1 extra ticket and 3 options.” nick looked at his brothers.

"i vote to bring justin." matt said without looking up from his phone.

"really? i say nate." chris looked around the room.

"so you guys bring me back to boston and i'm not even an option for you?" y/n threw her hands up and shook her head.

"if it helps, i was going to pick you." nick smiled.

"if we each choose a different person, we're just right back where we started." matt set his phone down.

"we could always put their names in a hat and pick randomly." chris suggested.

"or, we think about this. both justin and nate have been to a hockey game and y/n has never been to one. plus, we did drag her all the way here. do we really want to be leaving her alone?"

"well, as good of a point as it is, i'm keeping my vote for justin. we don't spend a lot of time with him and i think it'd be nice to bring him to a game while we're here." matt smiled.

"i'm changing my vote to y/n. she deserves to have some fun on this trip." chris looked at his friend and smiled.

"that's two-to-one." nick looked at matt. "so you're overruled no matter what."

"okay fine. but justin gets to go with us to the next one." matt stood up and went to his room to get ready. chris did the same, leaving nick and y/n in nick's room.

"nick, i don't have anything to wear to represent the team."

"don't worry about it. we can buy you something when we get there. don't forget to dress warm. i'll wait for you to get changed then we can go."

"yes sir." y/n began to dig through her bag for something to wear. she pulled out her favorite ransom shirt and a hoodie she borrowed from chris nearly 3 years ago. after she changed into her favorite pair of jeans, nick came back into the room to change.

once everyone was changed, they met out at the car.

the drive to the arena was short and the car was filled with nothing but silence.

when they arrived, nick went to take y/n to get something to represent the team but matt pulled a boston jersey from the car and handed it to her.

"figured you wouldn't have anything to show your pride in the team so i grabbed an extra jersey."

"wow. you're so thoughtful for someone who didn't even want me to come to the game with you guys."

"i never said i didn't want you to come. i just said we barely spend time with justin and he would've loved it."

"i'm messing with you matt. i don't care that you didn't want me to be here."

"i didn't....whatever." matt walked away with nick. y/n pulled the jersey over her head and looked at chris.

"how do i look?"

"you look..really good." chris smiled and the two of them jogged to catch up to matt and nick.

the group looked at their tickets and went to their seats. matt was between y/n and nick, while chris was on the other side of y/n. he made eye contact with y/n as they sat down and he rolled his eyes.

he didn't hate her, nor did he dislike having her around. in fact, he loved having her around all the time.

to him, she was perfect. and his brothers knew it. they were always trying to push them together but y/n would never show interest in him & had only referred to him as a friend. and so born was his hatred towards her.

as the game went on, y/n cheered at the right moments and matt couldn't help but admire her every feature, hoping he wouldn't get caught.

unfortunately for him, chris and nick were in the bathroom when the kiss cam came around. he was still admiring y/n when the camera pointed at them. she noticed the stupid grin on his face and looked over at him.

"i think you should look at the screen, matt."

"huh?" he snapped out of his daze to glance at the screen. the large words KISS CAM flashed in red and his cheeks darkened. he knew he had been caught. he looked at the camera and shooed them away.

y/n stared at him with both shock and awe on her face. part of her wanted to kiss him but the other part of her didn't want to make him uncomfortable. so she just went back to watching the players skate around.

a few minutes later, the kiss cam returned to them and once again, matt declined. this time though, the fans around them booed. it nearly embarrassed matt but as he looked down at his feet, y/n grabbed his hand, almost immediately calming him down.

"thanks." he leaned closer and whispered in her ear.

"not a problem." she smiled sweetly at him and returned her attention back to the players. her hand didn't move from matt's grip but neither of them seemed to mind.

at the end of the 2nd period, the kiss cam returned. no matter how many times matt asked them to leave, they kept coming back. y/n felt matt's grip tighten on her hand so she placed a gentle kiss to his cheek, hoping it would satisfy everyone.

it did not.

the camera continued to point at the duo and all eyes, even the players, were on them.

"i'm sorry about this." y/n whispered to matt before turning his head and kissing him. the crowd finally cheered and the camera crew went away.

but y/n and matt were too wrapped up in each other to notice.

his hand detached from hers and he placed them on her cheeks. y/n smiled into the kiss.

when they both finally stopped kissing each other, the smile on their faces was permanent.

"i hope that wasn't too embarrassing or awkward for you." y/n smiled and went back o squeezing his hand. matt didn't say anything. his earlier focus on the game was long gone and replaced with y/n.

when the game was finally over, y/n stood up and stretched.

"oh my goodness. that was amazing."

"yeah it really was." nick smiled and began heading out.

"it was good but i think matt really enjoyed it." chris smirked, earning a punch to both of his arms by his brothers and best friend. "ouch."

"anyone have to use the bathroom before we head out?" nick stopped outside the bathroom and looked at everyone.

"yeah. i promise i'll be quick." y/n walked into the bathroom and matt felt his brothers staring at him.

"what?"

"so, that kiss was certainly something, huh?"

"it didn't mean anything. it was just to get the kiss cam people off our backs."

"i don't think that was the only reason you guys kissed." chris raised an eyebrow.

"yeah. it looked pretty intense from an outside point of view."

"what do you mean?"

"you guys kissed for like 10 seconds after the camera crew left. you can't tell me that your feelings for her aren't returned."

"please can we change the topic?"

"what are you dorks talking about now?" y/n asked as she walked out of the bathroom.

"the hockey game." matt quickly covered up before the awkward tension got too high.

"it was so good. and oh my god. jeremy swayman is so hot. wow." y/n swooned and began to walk ahead of the boys.

when they got to the car, chris got in the back, allowing y/n to sit up front with matt. the drive home wasn't as quiet as the first drive but the air felt different. like there was something that needed to be said but nobody wanted to say it.

matt put the car in park and everyone got back.

"well, i'm beat. think im gonna go to bed. good night." chris yawned and headed up to his room. y/n followed nick to his room and flopped down on the bed.

"hey, do you have feelings for matt?"

"why do you ask?"

"that kiss tonight seemed very electric. the chemistry between you two was already really intense and if you don't have feelings for him, you need to let him know. because he's been crushing on you for years and the way you kissed him looked like you might have the same feelings."

"god, nick. of course i like matt. what's not to like? he's incredibly thoughtful and he's so cute. he doesn't judge me for my taste." she shot her best friend a look. "he's just perfect in every aspect of the word and...." she paused and sat up. 'are you sure he likes me?"

"when have i ever lied to you, sweetheart?"

"every day since you learned to talk."

"only when it saved your ass." he looked at her as she walked to the door. "but i promise you that i am not lying about this. matt really does have feelings for you."

"okay. if this is some sort of cruel joke, i will never speak to you again."

"and why would i risk that?"

"good point. wish me luck then." y/n took a deep breath and opened the door.

matt was leaning against the counter and when he heard the bedroom door close, he looked up.

"hey."

"hi." y/n stood awkwardly just outside the bedroom. matt put his phone in his pocket and crossed his arms.

"can i ask you something?"

"of course, matt." y/n's composure returned to normal when she heard the worriedness lining matt's voice.

"why does this have to be weird between us?"

"what do you mean?"

"we kissed and now, the air around us has changed drastically. did you....did you not like it or something?"

"of course i liked it, matt. but it's not how i pictured our first kiss happening."

"really?" he finally looked at her face. "h-how did you picture it happening?"

"this is going to sound really cheesy and cliche. are you sure you want to hear it?"

"oh, absolutely." his interested piqued and he found himself moving closer.

"well, when i pictured kissing you for the first time, i always used to think it would happen after you stood up for me somehow. like a knight in shining armor. and then i would run up to you and kiss you. you would be shocked at first but you would kiss back and you would put so much emotions into it."

"how did the kiss cam kiss measure up to what you pictured?"

"it was incredible, sure. but it didn't meet my expectations." y/n smirked. matt took an extra second to understand what she was hinting at but when he got it, he returned the smirk.

"didn't meet your expectations, huh?" he inched closer. "maybe i should change that. i-if you want me to."

"just kiss me, please."

matt wasted no time at all. he quickly grabbed her face and kissed her. all the feelings they had both been building up for years was being poured out into the kiss.

matt pulled her closer and made sure she felt what he was feeling. and when they pulled away, they both couldn't stop smiling.

"how was that?"

"better than expected, for sure. and something i think i want to keep doing."

"i can totally deal with that." matt smiled before pulling her back in for another kiss.

taglist: @worldlxvlys @lolasturniolo @carolinalikesthings @ciarasturn1 @fearfam69691

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader

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ihavethedreamies · 9 days

Text

Her Hero | Lee Know

Lee Minho - Stray Kids

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~5k

Pairing: Podocheong! Lee Know x Noble! AFAB! Reader

(The Podocheong were like the police of Joseon Era Korea)

Genre: Historical AU!, Joseon Era, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Some Plot, Frenemies-to-Lovers (ish)

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Pet Names (Sweetheart mostly), Fingering, First Times (Readers), Breeding Kink (kinda), Breathplay, A Single Spank, Masochist! Reader (surprise~!), Unprotected Sex (This is pre-birth control so…)

Summary: When a political rival of your father kidnaps you for a ransom, your father calls on the Podocheong (Police) to rescue you. An extremely handsome Bujang (Lieutenant) rescues you, but you would be loathe to admit you need (and like) a hero.

Author's Note: Here's Lee Know's!! Working on Changbin's, should be up very soon.

At the bottom I will have a guide for all the untranslated words I use, most of which are to do with the clothing they wear.

P.S. I'm having so much fun with these but I have to help watch our dog so she doesn't get on my uncle's furniture and so then I can't work on these during the day :\

Also, if any of my historical information/words are inaccurate, I apologize, I did the best with what research I could and what I know from watching too many historical K-Dramas.

-> Series Hub <-

-> Bang Chan's <-

Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

Your father was an important man who did important things. Unfortunately, some people didn't like the things he did or the way he did them. Namely, the Right State Minister…your father was the Left State Minister, so they should work together. No. They hated each other. Even more so because your father refused to let you marry the other Minister's son. That made the other man's son hate you…for some reason, like you had any say in the matter. You didn't even know the guy existed till your father told you he had prevented your marriage.

One day, as you waited by the entrance to your family's estate, you draped a sseugaechima over your head, waiting for your brother to join you. He was going to escort you to your friend's house, and you were getting impatient.

"Sorry!" He dashed through the courtyard, leaning down and panting to catch his breath. When he stood, the top of his gat wacked you on the chin and you flinched back.

"Sorry!" He floundered, peeling the head covering off so he could look at your annoyed face for any injury. He was such a klutz but at least he tried to make up for it.

"Let's just go please, orabeoni." You sniffed, recovering your head and you left the estate grounds. Your older brother weaved through the crowd, you held onto the belt of his hanbok to make sure you didn't get separated. There must have been some kind of big event or something going on because there were people everywhere.

"Ah, wait!" You cried out, someone bumped into you hard, and you let go of your brother.

"(Y/N)?" He turned around, his height allowing him to look over most of the crowd, but your own height hid you more. You were shoved and pushed as people whirled around you and called his name out.

"(Y/N)!" He shouted, but before you could reply, something hit you hard in the back of the head and you saw black.

~~~

When you woke up, you hurt. Your head hurt the most, but your whole body was sore. As your senses returned, you looked around in confusion. You were in a bedroom of what looked like an inn or other kind of lodging. Sitting up from the bed, you rubbed at the back of your head, looking around. Did your brother find you? If so, why did he bring you to a lodging rather than just back to your home? He also wasn't in the room. Did you pass out and a random person bring you here till you woke up? At the other side of the room, on the other side of a folding divider, you heard the door open. Unfortunately, it was not your brother that came in, you actually had no idea who it was. He was dressed all in black and his face was even covered.

"W-who are you?" You backed up on the bed, back hitting the wall, like that would really be of any use. He didn't say anything, but he pulled out a dagger and you froze in shock. Logically, you knew you could scream, but you couldn't physically get one out. He stalked forward and you closed your eyes, waiting for the worst. You squeaked when he grabbed your hair, right above where your daenggi was tied, and…cut your hair. He left as quickly as he came, the end of your hair along with the ribbon in his hand. What? Reaching around, you brought your hair over your shoulder to look at where he cut, nearly half of the length was gone.

"That-" you were madder more than anything else. Couldn't he have just undone the ribbon to use as proof? It was clear he didn't want to hurt you because you were in a nice room, not tied up, and other than a throbbing spot on the back of your head, you were unharmed.

After what felt like around an hour of sitting in the corner, contemplating what to do, you got up to look around. You weren't sure about trying to escape. Just because you were unhurt up until then didn't mean your captor would be so merciful if you tried to leave. Plus, you might get more hurt escaping, you were pretty sure you were on a second or even third floor. Just to check though…nope, the window shutters were locked from the other side it seemed. Plus, obviously, so was the door. Great. As time ticked by, you messed with the various objects of décor, trying to prevent boredom. Didn't work. All the drawers were empty and there wasn't even a baduk board for you to mess around with. After being nosy even more, you found a book wedged in the back of a dresser, between the back panel of the drawer and the piece as a whole. You weren't sure how it got back there and when you finally yanked it out, you sighed.

"Better than nothing." It was some old romance book that had been there for probably at least ten years. Sitting at a table in the room, you started the read, not really enjoying it, but it was better than nothing. More time passed and you were glad there was at least a separate room with a chamber pot, but it was getting dark. Your stomach rumbled and you wondered just how long you had been out cold because you and your brother had left the estate fairly early in the morning. When night fell, you found a lantern but had no way to light it. So, you had to sit in the dark, only the faint light of the moon flowed in through the slits of the locked shutters. Sitting back on the bed, your stomach growled again, and you sighed, laying down. You might as well pass time with sleep.

~~~

You were startled awake when there was a loud commotion outside of not just the lodging but also your room. Getting up from the bed you went to try and look through the slats of the windows but couldn't see much. There was a loud crash, and you turned around just in time to see the door break into pieces as someone kicked it open, not even bothering to try and unlock it first. It was the Podocheong! The man that came in had the uniform of a Bujang, and he sighed in relief upon seeing you. Another officer came in then, taller than the man who had kicked the door in.

"We believe we arrested all of the perpetrators, sir." He bowed slightly to the lieutenant, and he nodded, waving him off.

"Are you okay, Lady (Y/N)?" He came forward, brow furrowed in worry, looking over you. You shrunk under his gaze, embarrassed, hiding your face. His hands went to your jaw, making you look at him so he could see if your face was harmed. Your cheeks felt hot under his thumbs, he was strikingly attractive, but also familiar.

"When your brother couldn't find you, he came straight to me." He told you, letting you go, and you nodded, stepping back, looking away again. He then realized how intimate his action had been, and he bowed, apologizing.

"Are you friends with my orabeoni?"

"Yes, my lady. When we both got to your estate to look for you, your father informed us that a ransom letter had been sent for your safe return. I apologize for not getting here much sooner." You shook your head, casting a glance up at him, not sure if you were allowed to really show him your face.

"Here." He removed his jeonbok, draping it over your head so you could hide under it. Thanking him gently, you pulled it down over your more, it smelled like him, which was amazing.

"Let's get you home."

"W-what is your name?"

"Minho of the Lee clan, my lady."

~~~

When you returned home, not just your mother and brother were in tears like you expected, but your father was as well. He wasn't cold normally, but he just had better control of his emotions.

"Thank you, hyungnim." Your brother bowed to Bujang Minho, still sniffing a bit.

"Yes, we cannot begin to express our gratitude, Bujang." Your father thanked him as well and you let your mother lead you further into the estate so she could hug you. You hugged her tightly back, incredibly grateful to be home safe.

~~~

You weren't sure what Minho had asked of your father in return for rescuing you, but he seemed to be hanging around a lot. While, yes, he was mostly with your brother, you would always find him watching you if you happened to be around or passed by. One day you were sitting at the edge of your family's pond under a parasol, messing around with some embroidery work. You were not very good at it even though you enjoyed it.

"Is that supposed to be a flower?" You heard a teasing remark to your side, and you sent a glare at the owner, but, it was not your brother. Quickly, your face reddened, and you looked back down.

"U-uh yes, but as you can see, I am a little poor at this." You huffed a nervous laugh.

"Then why are you doing it?"

"I like it, just-" You yelped when you poked yourself with the needle, quickly putting the tip of your finger in your mouth. Setting the frame on the ground and putting the needle back in the cushion, you ran a finger over the messy stitching.

"What else do you like to do?" You froze when he sat down next to you, not close enough to touch you, but you weren't expecting it. He wasn't in his Podocheong uniform, the light greenish-blue fabric of his hanbok complimented him well. Looking away from where the material seemed to be struggling over his chest, you cleared your throat.

"I enjoy painting, but once again, I'm not great at it."

"Is there anything you enjoy that you are good at?" You saw him tilt his head to rest it on his fist, elbow resting on his knee, from the side of your eye.

"I…" You were a little stumped.

"N-not really." You enjoyed creative and artistic work, but you were not skilled in the field.

"That's not what your brother told me." Your eyes widened and you shot him a wary look.

"Your father isn't even here." Minho rolled his eyes, and you clenched your jaw. He was kind of getting on your nerves. Mostly because he was stupidly attractive, and you didn't like being teased to begin with.

"I haven't shot a bow in years." You whispered, still weary.

"Worried a man won't want to marry you if you can fight?"

"Archery isn't fighting, and I'm not worried about that." You stood up then, leaving the parasol jabbed in the ground, gathering up your frame and embroidery basket, walking around him to head back to your room.

"Let's go do it." He caught up to you, walking backwards, smirking as he walked ahead of you.

"No." It was too risky, you got caught last time your brother took you to his make-shift archery range.

"We can go to the Podocheong training area, no one will know. No one's there now." You had reached the stairs to get up onto the deck of your house, and you halted at the bottom. The offer was extremely tempting…

"Fine, let me get something to change into."

With a bundle of your brother's old clothes in tow, Minho helped you sneak off the estate grounds. He had at least told your brother, so no one thought you got kidnapped again. Your father didn't check on you after dark so he wouldn't know you weren't in your room. After you arrived at the training grounds, you changed in a bathing room and came out.

"You really look like your brother like that." Minho scoffed and you rolled your eyes.

"I know." You sniffed and he led you toward the back where the archery targets were set up. Without waiting for his prompt, you looked over the different bows on the rack and picked one, then grabbed a quiver as well. It felt instantly familiar, and you were glad for that, but your aim was rusty.

"You're supposed to hit the middle." Minho hummed next to you, pointing to where you had hit off to the side quite a bit.

"I know." You grit your teeth, shooting off another arrow and it missed as well. Was it the bow?

"Here." He moved to adjust your grip on the bow, and you yanked away from his hold.

"I don't need your help." You were embarrassed because you said archery was something you were actually good at.

"You did a few weeks ago." The little string of control you had snapped, the fire of your annoyance singing the ends, and you turned to him, glaring at him straight in the eye.

"What, you want me to say thank you? After my father showered you with gifts and allowed you to loiter around our estate? Fall to my knees in gratitude to my hero? Huh? If you want that go to another girl." You turned back away from him, not noticing his amused grin and you shot another arrow, hitting the red bullseye.

"What?" You nearly growled, standing at the door to your room's building, having opened it to find Minho leaning on the wooden column next to the stairs. He was relentless for the next few weeks, and you were really pissed. More so that you missed when he wouldn't show up with that stupid smirk on his pretty face. Why were you starting to like him when he just teased you all the damn time? Wasn't he your brother's friend? He constantly pestered you to go shoot with him, or go ride on his horse, or some other stuff, and you said no to almost everything. You would only eat with him if he brought snacks or a meal because who says no to food?

"I think you dropped this." You looked to see your eunjangdo dangling from his index finger.

"Give it!" You swiped at it, but he held it up and back behind him so you couldn't reach it. The silver shined in the sun, and you jumped to grab it, falling onto him when you couldn't make it.

"Give it back!" You pressed against him more, fingers barely touching the sheath of the dagger.

"Hm, no." He chuckled and you yiped when he wrapped his other arm around you, holding you to him. Your face bloomed with heat, and you could even see the red on the tip of your nose when you looked at his face, very close to yours.

"I really should stop helping you if you don't want a hero so bad." He finally relented and brought the dagger back down, but he didn't let you go. He was warm against you, and you could feel the muscle he had underneath the layers of clothes and even through your own. Your head was swimming, and you didn't even move to grab your eunjangdo from him when it was within reach.

"Have you heard the rumor about the watermill behind your house by the stream?" Instantly you knew what he was talking about.

"Y-You!" Your face's redness changed from embarrassment to rage, and you pulled away from him, slapping him hard, then turning on your heel and going back inside, the silver dagger still dangling in his grasp.

You didn't want to admit why you were crying, but you held the cushion to your chest closer, pressing your tear-stained face into the pink silk. You weren't overly fond of romance and sweet gestures, but the crassness of his suggestion hurt. Did he only want to bed you and then move on? You hoped deep inside he liked you back. And it wasn't until you cried for a good hour that you realized why you were so upset. You liked him. That’s why you wanted him to like you back.

"Dammit." You sniffed, wiping hard at your face with your sleeve.

"(Y/N)?" A soft voice called from just outside your window, only moonlight coming in through it, one small candle illuminating your room softly.

"(Y/N)? I know you're awake." You registered the owner of the voice, and you deflated further into your cushions.

"Go away." You spat at him.

"(Y/N), please?" Minho's tone was like nothing you had heard before, and it was beginning to compel you.

"No." He could probably hear the insincerity in your voice.

"(Y/N), sweetheart, please?" Your heart stopped, then sped into a gallop when he called you that. Your body seemed to act at the will of your heart and not your brain, because you got up, using a step stool, and opened the window. He smiled, genuinely, and it made you swallow hard. You wanted to cry again.

"I'm so sorry." He stepped forward, the window just the right height for him to rest his arms on the sill from where he stood on the porch. You didn't say anything, you were worried you would burst into tears if you tried.

"I said something horrible; I was just trying to tease you and I hurt you. Will you forgive me?" You hadn't heard such a sincere tone from him since he rescued you at the lodging. Your uncertain gaze met his intense one and he sighed.

"What you said awhile back made me think. You said that your father showered me with gifts for saving you? He didn't."

"But…orabeoni said you got confections and a bunch of other stuff."

"That was from him and your mother. Your father had a different gift, but I told him I didn't want it. Not without you agreeing." What?

"Huh?" He smiled at the clear confusion all over your face, the sad look falling off.

"Your father offered you as a gift. As my wife. I said yes, but I wanted to court you first. I didn't do a great job though I guess." Minho sighed and you couldn't hold back then, tears spilling over your cheeks.

"(Y/N)?" He stood up straight and you stepped closer, and he gently cupped your cheek in his hand.

"You should have just said so, you stupid idiot." You hitched a sob with each word, and he smiled, letting out a small laugh.

"Yes. I should have."

~~~

It seemed, to Minho even more than you, the wedding couldn't have been soon enough. It was also hard to hide from your family just how clingy he was. If no one was around, his arms were around you at the very least. He had you sit in his lap while you did most things, his chin on your shoulder, watching you sew or read. More than just a few times he would be standing next to you or hugging you and his hand would sneak lower than he really should have put it. The first time he got a not-very-strong hit to his chest, and he just chuckled.

You were a bit sad to move out of your family home, but you and he were given your own separate house on his father's estate, so far on the edge of the land that it felt like your own. As you stood in your new bedroom, dressed only in your sokchima, flinching at every noise as if it was your… You giggled finally thinking of him as your husband, and you hopped a little with glee. Every noise though made you hope that it was him, returning from his own bath, but most of the time it was just an animal outside, or the wind making the window shutters creak slightly.

Finally, the door to the bedroom opened and he peaked his head in, a serious look on his face.

"Are you ready, (Y/N)? Because I'm running out of restraint." The sharp look in his eyes made you shiver, but you nodded anyway. As he stalked in, the door falling shut behind him, he tugged at the goreum of his sokjeogori, and time slowed down as it fell to the floor. Your eyes skated over the skin that he revealed, and you didn't have time to react, he scooped you up in his arms and easily carried you to the bed. He pinned you to the yo, raised onto a platform and you gasped as his lips sealed over yours. His hand snuck under your head, fingers weaving through your hair at the base of your braid, pressing you even closer to him.

His other hand wandered, snaking up your leg, pushing your sokchima up higher and higher. Feeling his hands on your bare skin made you shiver despite the heat he seemed to be setting. You panted when he finally pulled his tongue out of your mouth, licking his lips like a hungry dog. His eyes though reminded you of a cat on the hunt.

"How rough can I be?" Minho's lips brushed the skin of your neck as he spoke, then his mouth attached, and he sucked hard. You huffed at the feeling; mind not able to stay on track for very long.

"Huh?" You finally managed to get out, hands balled into fists over his shoulders, your pulse seeming to thud harder where he had sucked the skin nearly raw.

"I've been waiting to have you so long, sweetheart, that I just want to breed you like a bitch in heat." The vulgarity of his words shocked you, but it somehow fueled your arousal rather than offending you.

"I want to brand you as mine." He licked a path over your throat, ending at the hickey he had left under your ear. His blunt nails dug into the flesh of your upper thigh as he pulled it up to his waist, his hand sliding down to cup your rear.

"M-Minho-!" You couldn't help but throw your head back with an airy moan as he rolled his hips against yours, his hard cock pressing to your bare core through his pants.

"Tell me now, so I can slow down." You could hear the strain in his voice, his breathing was hard too.

"Don't." So, he didn't. He didn't hesitate either and you squeaked when he rolled you over underneath him, landing on your stomach. Instead of untying your sokchima like a civilized person, he tore the straps at the seams, then yanked the white garment from you and tossed it to the side, leaving you completely naked. Your skin immediately rose into goosebumps from the sudden chill, but the heat of his bare chest pressing to your back instantly took over.

"You're just perfect." He hummed, nearly laying completely on top of you, hard cock nestled in the crest of your butt. Minho's arm snuck under you, sliding up to nestle between your breasts, his hand gripping your jaw. You whimpered at the restraining feeling even though it was nowhere close to tight, and you felt his dick twitch at the noise. His free hand also snuck underneath you, holding himself up with pure core strength, only the elbow of the arm holding you supporting him. As his fingertips ran over your lower stomach you sighed, the muscles twitching at the stimulation. He hummed and you recognized the noise that he always made when he smirked, and your body jerked when his fingers finally met your cunt.

"So wet already, sweetheart." His nose nuzzled behind your ear, the hand at your jaw loosening even further but sliding down just a bit to cup your throat. Quickly, his index finger brushed over your clit, and you whined, and he chuckled, feeling the vibration at his palm.

"M-Minho…" Your head was swimming, and you let out a choking noise when he buried a finger into you.

"Don't worry sweetheart, I'll loosen your tight cunt enough to take my cock." While Minho wasn't always outstandingly proper with you, his crass words still surprised you some. They went straight to your core though, and he felt your gummy walls spasm around the single digit. Slowly, he pumped his finger till you relaxed, the slight sting from the entrance dissipating. You had never even used your own fingers and based off what you felt nestled into your backside, you did need to get prepped. Whether it was on purpose or not, when Minho finally added a second finger, his hand at your throat tightened just enough to put slight pressure on your windpipe. Your cunt spasmed again, harder, and your heart sped up as well, wondering why the sensation excited you so much.

"Oh?" He chuckled, speeding up his hand at your pussy, palm pressing to your throat a bit harder. His palm pressed at your clit and a strong pulse hit your core, and it was getting stronger and stronger.

"W-wait, Minho!" You gasped, having an idea that you were close even if you had never felt it. The intensity startled you a bit.

"Go ahead, (Y/N), fall apart." The hand at your throat pressed enough to make your vision swim and you keened out a moan as you came. He huffed at the squeeze on his fingers, but helped you ride the high out, kissing behind your ear as he did. When he unwrapped his arms from around you, you fell limp on the bedding, still trying to catch your breath. Swallowing a few times to ease the slight soreness of your throat, you heard him shuffle. You, however, had no time to look behind you at him before his hands were on your hips, pulling them up, forcing your butt up in the air.

"What are you-?"

"I said I wanted to breed you like a bitch in heat." Oh, he meant it literally. Unfortunately for you, he hadn't given you the chance to see him bare, because you were not prepared for when he brought the head of his cock to your entrance.

"Breathe, sweetheart." His hands wrapped around your waist, thumbs rubbing circles into the skin of your back, and you focused on measured breaths as the fat head of his dick finally started to press in. Stinging heat seared through you from your core out as he entered, and you couldn't tell what it felt like. Somehow it hurt like hell but also felt so good, so much so you thought you might pass out. You fisted the bedding below you, gasping for air as he slid in, the slick of your arousal aiding the entrance.

"Your cunt's hugging my cock so good~" Minho sighed, the noise turning into a groan as he buried even further. How much further would he go? The searing heat was so deep you wondered if he would stop anytime soon.

"Just a bit…" He chuckled when he finally bottomed out, the tip pressing snugly to the base of your womb. Tears had sprung to your eyes, your whole face felt hot, and you panted hard, trying to get used to the odd feeling. Yes, it hurt, but it felt so much better than you thought it would.

"Tell em when you're ready, my love." He leaned over you again, kissing your shoulder gently and petting your hair.

"Go." You answered almost immediately, and his soft touches halted.

"Love, are you sure?"

"Fuck, please!" You weren't sure why you needed him to start already, logic told you it would hurt, but you craved it. It felt so dirty to like the burn so much, but you couldn't help it.

"Yeah?"

"Please!" Your breath was forced from your lungs when he rolled his hips, pulling out halfway before snapping back into you, hard. He felt your core pulse around him, a rush of your arousal soaking his cock, and he grinned like a madman.

"So fucking perfect." He immediately began a brutal pace, but still held back some, only pulling out half before driving his cock back home, battering your womb.

"W-wait, oh! Ah! Fuck!" The same waves of pleasure were already cresting, so much stronger than before and Minho relished in feeling the clench of your gummy walls around his cock instead of his fingers.

"So good." He mumbled to himself, licking his lips and as you got closer…

"Fuck!" You squealed when his hand came down on your ass, leaving a red print on your skin and you came again. He gasped a laugh as your arousal drenched his cock and his groin, leaving a shining trail down both your thighs. Minho laughed at your whine of disapproval when he pulled out, but it turned to a gasp as he flipped you over. He threw one of your legs over his shoulder, ankle at his ear, holding the other to his side, and he filled you again. Your vision spotted from the stinging pleasure the overstimulation was causing you, but you focused on his gorgeous face. He had that cocky smirk on his face, sweat beading down from his forehead and you whimpered at the sight. With what little strength you had, you propped yourself up to see where he was splitting you open. Whether it was the sight or his next thrust, you fell back limp and fisted the sheets as he fucked you like a rabbit. His shallow movements were even harder than before, and your eyes rolled back, back arching as your next orgasm rose.

"Oh, what a good girl, cum for me, love." Minho took your hands in his, your legs barely wrapping around him to hold on. His fingers wove through yours, lips meeting once more as his pace stuttered. He must have felt your moan against his tongue as you came once more, the tight vice of your cunt spurred him over the edge as well. Your core burned even hotter as his cum filled you to the point where it spilled from you, mixing with your own. Your body went limp, and Minho hummed, kissing your forehead.

"I love you." He left little pecks all over your face and you giggled sleepily.

"I love you, too. I'm glad you saved me that day."

"No, (Y/N), I think you saved me."

Sseugaechima - this is the extra-skirt looking garment women would wear over their heads. Gat - this is the hat that noblemen would wear, more specifically the ones that were black and made of mesh. Orabeoni - more archaic/historical word for older brother to a girl. Hanbok - traditional/historical clothing, most people think of women's dresses, but men's clothes were called this as well. Daenggi - the ribbon that was tied around a unmarried girl's braid. Baduk - Korean word for the Chinese game of Go. Podocheong - essentially the Joseon era police. Bujang - a Lieutenant-level position in the Podocheong. Jeonbok - kind of like a long vest worn over a hanbok. Hyungnim - a more commonly used term historically for a man to an older brother or friend. Eunjangdo - a silver dagger that many women wore as an accessory, mostly nobles. Sokchima - basically a dress/skirt like under-garment. Goreum - the ties that fastened the top of a hanbok. Sokjeogori - a shirt worn as an undergarment. Yo - a Korean floor mattress.

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fluentmoviequoter · 8 months

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hiiiii ♡ would be able to write something where reader is Jason Todd's girlfriend, friends to lovers situation so they've known each other a long time but she doesn't know about any of the vigilante stuff, And one day she's late making her way back to thier apartment but Jason is also making his way home but he's still in all the Redhood gear and reader bumps into him and is absolutely terrified out of her mind like just in complete terror of him. And she runs home and locks the doors and the windows and is a little shaken up. Jason finally arrives home obviously not as redhood lol And anyway he has to comfort her and just how would he react knowing that he scared the shit out of her and that she's this much afraid of redhood

Hi!! Of course! This is my first Jason Todd request and I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart!! I love him so much and this is an incredible idea. I added my own spin to the ending, but I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍

Warnings: angst, fluff, Dick Grayson is nosy

Word Count: 2.3k+ words

A/N: This isn't a specific adaptation/characterization of Jason Todd, but I do mention that he's built like a brick wall, so it's probably not Titans!Jason. The gif fit, though, so. If anyone has more Jason Todd requests, please send them!

PART 2 - Love, The Man Under the Hood >

Masterlist | DC/Jason Todd Masterlist | Request Info

The Man Under the Hood

“Are you going to tell her?” Dick asks, raising his gloved hand for Jason to hit.

“I don’t know,” Jason grunts between punches.

“She stayed through everything else.”

“We were friends then, it was different.”

Dick drops his hands, and Jason sighs, lowering his guard. Jason raises his eyebrows, preparing for one of Dick’s infamous lectures.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Dick begins before laughing at Jason’s surprised look. “I’m really not, but you’ve known her for a very long time. Just, don’t wait too long, because then it just looks like you don’t trust her.”

“It was different for you. Nightwing wasn’t feared. Telling her that I’m Red Hood tells her that I’ve done things that- that most people never consider.”

“She loves you. As you make the decision, just remember that.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Growing up in Gotham and playing in the streets (even when you shouldn’t have) introduced you to Jason Todd very early. He quickly became your friend, and when you lost him, you were finally ready to admit you loved him. But it was too late. The feelings that you were trying to navigate multiplied tenfold, and every time you pass his grave, they come back to the surface.

The cemetery is on your way home, and sometimes you can’t help but walk in. You can navigate to his headstone with your eyes closed, and everything else drifts away as you stare at his name.

“There’s a joke about the morbidity of this somewhere, I just know it."

Two large hands land on your waist, turning you around and pulling you into a kiss that takes your breath away. Breaking the kiss, you wonder what life would be like if Jason had never disappeared.

“Sorry,” you murmur. Kissing Jason is new and still catches you off guard, like you’re dreaming.

“Don’t apologize,” Jason whispers, brushing his fingers across your cheekbone. “Of all the places to hang out,” he adds with a bright smile.

“Why didn’t Bruce get it taken down?”

Jason shrugs. “The reminder? The idea that something else could happen. I really don’t know,” Jason half lies. He isn’t ready to tell you that he really did die and is happy to let you think it was just a ransom kidnapping gone wrong.

“What?” you ask, pressing your palms against his chest. “You disappeared into that pretty head again.”

“I’m just glad we’re finally more than friends,” Jason says, pressing his lips to yours.

“Me too,” you reply against his lips.

You’ve been friends much longer than lovers, so spending time together is not new, but being able to touch, kiss, and tell him what you feel is. While you think about how much you like the newness, Jason struggles to decide when or if to expose who he is.

He trusts you; he does, but he doesn’t want to scare you away or put a target on your back. Nightmares about you finding out and leaving while he’s gone plagued him for months after returning to Gotham and seeing you again.

“Do you have to go back to the manor yet?”

Jason shakes his head, looping an arm around your shoulders. “You’re stuck with me for a few more hours.”

“Oh no.”

Jason pulls you against his side, smiling as he kisses the top of your head.

Not yet, he decides. Not never, just not yet.

✯✯✯✯✯

Jason feels Dick’s eyes on the side of his mask, a distorted sigh leaking out.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“You didn’t tell her,” Dick – Nightwing – accuses.

“We’re kinda in the middle of something here, Wing.”

“They can wait. Right, criminals?” Dick asks over his shoulder.

“Sure,” one of them answers, a batarang through his jacket keeping him stuck to an alley wall. “Take your time.”

Dick raises his hands to ask, “Why?”

“I thought you weren’t going to tell me what to do,” Jason sighs.

“Changed my mind. Look, I obviously understand the purpose of secret identities, but you love her, and she deserves to know.”

“You haven’t told your girl?” the thief asks. “Why not?”

“Shut up,” Jason growls through the hood.

“What are you really scared of?” Dick whispers before turning away.

Jason and Dick leave the criminal in the alley when police sirens approach, finding a rooftop to wait on. Gotham is never quiet for long, and breaks on patrol are few and far between.

“I’m going to tell her,” Dick announces. “Not about you. About me. Maybe that will convince you.”

“Don’t.”

“Jaybird.”

“Don’t ‘Jaybird’ me, Dick,” Jason argues, standing and pacing. “You don’t understand what I’m dealing with here. You tell Babs you’re Nightwing and she says, ‘Oh, wow, thanks for keeping us safe.’ I tell the woman that I love that I’m Red Hood and her first thought is the duffel bag fiasco, or the suicide spike at Arkham, nothing about me being a savior.”

“Everyone in Gotham knows that you’re not like that anymore. Besides, knowing that you did something bad isn’t a make-or-break situation.”

“Begging for forgiveness won’t do much if she leaves while I’m on patrol.”

Dick tilts his head toward Jason. “You’ve thought about this.”

Jason flexes his arms as he links his hands behind his neck. “Every time I consider doing it, I have a nightmare about her leaving.”

“You’re letting a nightmare control you, Jay.”

“Just- give me a little time, Dick. I can protect her from everything without telling her. Me included.”

“What if she doesn’t want to be protected from you? What if she wants you as you are?”

✯✯✯✯✯

Jason can’t remember the last time he was this tired after patrol. Damian had too much sugar or something and drug Jason all over Gotham. He needs to see you, and as Red Hood makes his way through the streets of Gotham, Jason keeps his mind on you, prepared to ditch the helmet and hold you until he can’t anymore.

Meanwhile, you’re walking home from work. Jason likes to be on the phone with you while you walk alone, but it’s late, and he’s probably at a family dinner. Looking down at your phone, you have a short message from him, but before you read it, you walk into what feels like a brick wall.

Gloved hands grip your biceps to keep you upright, and when you look up, you see the infamous Red Hood looming over you. Your mind wavers between fight and flight as you try not to scream, leaning away with wide eyes. You swallow harshly, and the eye slits of the mask fix themselves on your face.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You flinch back at the sound of his voice, and his hands immediately fall away from you. Falling back, you catch yourself on your hands and scoot backward, terrified of what he’ll do to you. Red Hood has been working with the bats and birds, but the memory of what he was like before still looms over Gotham like the rain clouds that never dissipate.

He steps back, moving his hand toward his belt, and you gasp, freezing where you are.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, standing slowly. “Please don’t hurt me.”

It’s Red Hood’s turn to freeze, and unknown to you, Jason is falling apart under the mask. The pure terror in your eyes is the exact thing he’s been trying to keep you from.

“It’s okay, it’s my fault,” he rushes to say, leaving his hands where you can see them. “I’m not going to touch you.”

You nod slowly, moving backward as you clearly don’t believe him. Once you reach the corner, you turn and run. If he wanted to follow you, he could do so with no problem, but you don’t spare a glance over your shoulder as you run as fast as you can toward your home.

Jason’s shoulders drop as he watches you run, beating himself up for everything: for not telling you, for scaring you, and for putting you in this position. He can’t tell you now; he missed his chance, and there’s no way you’ll want him. His nightmare is coming to life around him, and he can’t wake up.

Your phone is lying on the ground, and Jason stoops to pick it up, slipping it into his pocket. Maybe you’ll still want to see Jason tonight. If someone like him can be so lucky.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your keys slip from your fingers several times as you struggle to unlock your door. Panting and blinking quickly to keep your tears from falling, you finally open the door, and once you're inside, slam it behind you and lock all three deadbolts.

Leaning against the door, you slide down it and hug yourself, wishing you had picked up your phone. You want to call Jason; you need him, but hopefully, he’ll come over when he can.

Something flies past your window, and you leap to your feet, walking through every room to ensure all the windows are locked.

✯✯✯✯✯

Jason takes his time following you. He can move quickly, especially for a guy his size, but after seeing how you looked at Red Hood, at him, he’s more than happy to go a little slower. Taking the long way, he drops his stuff off at his place, keeping your phone in his pocket.

As he walks, he wonders what to say or do to convince you to stay. Sure, you were terrified of Red Hood, not Jason Todd, but the two are not mutually exclusive and never will be. Part of him wants to take Dick’s advice and tell you, but the idea of it not working (or ending like he thinks he will) makes the decision impossible.

He takes a deep breath before knocking on your door, and when there’s no answer or footsteps inside, he hits the door again, saying your name.

“It’s me,” he adds.

Your footsteps sound before three deadbolts click. Opening the door, you move into the hallway to hug Jason tightly. He returns the hug, pulling you up against him as he carries you inside and closes the door behind him. Flipping all the deadbolts, he knows he can keep you safer than they ever could, but that requires trust. Trust from you and from him.

As you cling to him, his heart is torn between leaving you before he scares you again or comforting you all night. When you adjust your grip on him, pressing your cheek against his pec just above your heart, Jason decides to stay.

If she’s this afraid of Red Hood, what will she do when she finds out who he is? Jason wonders.

Pushing the thoughts away, Jason holds you close, rubbing his hand up and down your back while the other rests against your hip. The weight of his arms against you is comforting, and you focus on his heartbeat and the sound of his voice.

“You’re alright,” he whispers, his voice rough. “Take a few deep breaths.”

You do as he says, attempting to match your breaths to his. It takes several minutes, but your heart rate slows as your breath evens out.

“Thank you,” you say, moving your chin against his chest to look up at him.

He smiles, though his lips stay together, and it’s not as big as usual, running a hand over your hair.

“Can I- can I talk to you about what happened?” you ask, leaning into his touch.

He nods, and something akin to dread flashes through his eyes. You write it off as nervousness that you were hurt or threatened, which wouldn’t be unbelievable in Gotham.

“I was walking home, I got off late but didn’t want to call you and bother you.”

Jason wonders how different things would be if you had called, but rather than interrupting, he nods to acknowledge he’s listening.

“Then I turned into an alley, and I bumped into Red Hood. And, I mean, I know he’s not the same as when he first arrived in Gotham.”

Hope blooms in Jason’s chest at your words.

“He works with Batman, and Nightwing, and the rest of them, and they’re good. I’ve heard from my coworkers who live in the Hill that he’s making a difference, for good, but,” you trail off, looking away from Jason as you shatter his hope that you see a different side of Red Hood.

“But what?” he asks quietly.

You shrug, and Jason takes the opportunity to move. He pulls you with him as he sits up, tugging you into his lap as you look up at him. His arms wrap around your waist as his fingers brush up and down against your side.

“I think the reason he scared me so much is that there’s no way to tell what he’s thinking. The rest of them, you can see part of their face, but he hides everything. And he’s just so big, I looked up and felt so small that I knew if he wanted to hurt me, he could.”

He would never hurt you, Jason thinks.

“I guess I didn’t like being in that position where I knew he could do anything but had no way of knowing if he would.”

Jason leans back toward the back of the couch. The fear that you’re expressing is based on reasons that apply to him, the man under the mask.

“You got scared because he’s so big? And unreadable?” Jason clarifies, applying the adjectives to himself.

Your eyes are fixed on him, dropping to his shoulders and waist quickly, looking at his build (and noticing the shape of a phone in his pocket, aware that he set his to the side to hold you) before you hum. “Kinda like you,” you muse quietly.

Jason’s brows furrow, and you move your arms, causing Jason to drop one arm to his side.

You watch his movement, then look into his eyes. You lean toward him and smile, cocking your head as you ask, “But you can protect me. Right, red?”

#jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #red hood x reader #red hood #dc comics x reader #dc comics #fem!reader #requests

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boxofbonesfic · 2 months

Text

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [7]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why.

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do not eat!

Word Count: 5,123

A/N: thank you all for your patience, and your excitement! we’re checking back in with reader this chapter, and unfortunately, she’s not doing too well. 😅 bottom divider by @firefly-graphics

On the eighteenth day, it rains.

At least, you think it is the eighteenth day.

The rising and setting of the sun only denotes the time of day—there is no clock in this room, no way to mark the longer passage of hours, no calendar with boxes for you to tick off. So you cling to the approximation, it’s the only knowledge—incorrect or no—that you have.

Water streams down the walls of your prison, obscuring the beach beyond. You stare listlessly at the droplets, following them with your eyes as they slide down the glass into the sand. Though you haven’t moved in hours, you’re still strangely exhausted. So you stay there, tucked against the wall where the glass meets concrete. You’d told Ransom and Lloyd to leave you alone and they had followed your request to the letter—you haven’t seen them since your destructive fit.

You’ve already cried yourself dry and hoarse wailing for help, for release, for your family, and though your distress at your current situation hasn’t lessened per-say, you feel a certain sort of numb acceptance. You’ve gone to sleep here and woken up in the ruined bed enough times to know now that this is true, that it is real—

That you have to accept it.

What choice do you have? Raging had changed nothing, only isolating you further. You’ve taken to analyzing every moment in the silence, sifting back through to try and determine the point where it all went wrong. There’s no aha moment, though, no core memory that lights the path to recognition. You remember Lloyd and Ransom in your history classes, hotshot poli-sci majors destined for the big leagues. You knew of them, of course—everyone did. Legacy students with chips on their shoulders and grandaddy’s money in their bank accounts.

Typical.

You almost wish you could go back and tell yourself that you had been right, that your assessment that the Drysdale twins were selfish and self-centered—but it doesn’t matter now. Not with their baby in your belly and the minutes of your life rotting away in this box.

You know what they’re waiting for, waiting for you to admit you want to see them, that you need them, and they’ll come and make everything better. You hate that you want to, if only just to have someone to scream at. You hug your knees. Your family will be home now, back to their lives in the States, having swallowed whatever lies you know the twins must have spun up for them—they certainly couldn’t tell the truth.

She’s sick. Not feeling well. You see, we’ve been taking turns fucking her like our personal cocksleeve.

That would have gone over splendidly with your father.

The hours tick slowly by until you realize you’re rocking, back and forth as you stare at blank space. Your resolve to say nothing, to ask for nothing, feels made now of rubber rather than stone. It’s been two weeks and then some since you’d spoken to anyone or had contact with your captors—your husband.

Ransom had taken the ring when you’d thrown it at him, and you’re still not used to the feeling of not wearing it after two whole years. You run the fingers of your opposite hand over the blank space on your ring finger, over and over again, feeling the little divet where it sat.

The room is four hundred and seventy six steps around, you know because you have paced the width and breadth of it every single day since Ransom and Lloyd had left you here. You could do it with your eyes closed, even—you often do. Today isn’t any different, pacing the wall as you recite something—anything you can think of, usually—as many times as you can. Snippets of books you’ve read, scenes in movies, you replay them all, savoring each instance of remembrance as you feel the silence pressing in around the sound of your voice. That’s the worst part about all of this, you think to yourself as you round the far side of the room for lap number twenty five. They’re not even here for you to scream at them.

They don’t even have to face your wrath, meager as it is. You’re not sure exactly when you’d begun to crave the sound of their voices, perhaps because you know they’re the only ones you have any hope of hearing. You want to cry and scream and wail at them, you want to tear at their faces with your jagged nails—but most of all, you just want them here while you do it.

The quick pace you set around the room lasts until you can’t keep it up anymore. You collapse next to the door, resting a hand on your belly as your chest heaves. The sight that greets you as you stare listlessly out the window is a familiar one, the orange-red sun is pale behind the lingering cloud cover as it sinks beneath the dark, choppy waves. You have seen this eighteen times—and tomorrow, it will be nineteen.

Perhaps it’s the realization you cannot even hear the sound of the water lapping against the sand, you can’t feel the breeze, feel the sun on your skin unfiltered through the eight inch glass.

You can’t even go for a fucking walk.

It’s the knowledge of the agencies you’ve been denied, the freedoms you’ve been stripped of that drives you back to your feet as a frantic intensity grips you. You slam your fists against the door with a hoarse cry, beating against it until your hands ache and sting.

“Please!” Your dry eyes ache for want of tears. “I don’t want to be in here by myself anymore!” You know you’re giving up ground, but you can’t help it. Weeks of complete isolation—of fucking nothing. You try to convince yourself it isn’t a loss, though, that you’re giving in for your own good, not theirs. That you’ll never have an avenue for escape if the door is locked, so you must make them open it. You repeat these reasons and more on a seemingly endless internal refrain as you beg and cry—so much so that you almost believe it when you hear the sound of hinges turning, of dress shoes on bare concrete.

You stumble back from the door, anxiously waiting for the robotic sound of the pin pad on the other side. After six beeps—six, you’re sure of it, and you will remember; six—you hear the locks disengaging, the hiss of the hydraulic hinges. You almost don’t want to look as the door swings open, dragging your reluctant gaze up from the concrete step to stare at the twin in front of you. You hate that you’re glad to see him—you’re glad to see anyone, but your feeble hope that it is your husband who will greet you on the other side of the doorway turns brittle in your chest as you drag your gaze up to his face.

“Hello, Princess.” You swallow thickly at the sight of Lloyd. He’s letting his mustache grow back in now, the light dusting of hair above his lip, the thick chain at his throat, and the slick striped polo are all enough of a giveaway. He grins at you. Besides, you think venomously. What reason does he have to hide, now? Lloyd steps inside, and the door closes behind him with a soft rush of air. He clucks his tongue as he looks at the carnage around you, the destruction you’re no longer proud of—just exhausted with.

“You really have made a mess of things.” It feels like he’s talking about more than the room. His expression is almost affectionate. Your chest tightens.“Let’s see what we can do to fix them.” Lloyd steps closer, and you mirror him with one step back, your body moving without your permission. “Baby, you asked for me to come,” he says, cocking his head. “Or would you like to be alone again?” Lloyd doesn’t say it like a threat, doesn’t weight the words with the implication you know he means.

And yet the idea of being alone in this room—hell, alone in your head—for a single moment more feels like hands wrapping around your throat. The feeling spurs you to speak, swallowing the thick resentment lining your throat to make room for words.

“No.” You say, looking down at your feet. “I—I don’t.”

He smiles. “Good. I don’t either.” Lloyd takes an experimental step forward, and you stiffen—but remain still. The smile widens. “Why don’t you take a bath, Princess, and I’ll get someone to come in here and clean up a little? How’s that?”

“Who?” You know this is bait and you take it anyway. Your options are either to engage with Lloyd—on his terms, always his fucking terms—or to have no engagement at all. “A-are there other people here?” The question lies unasked in the air between you. Will they help me?

“Maybe if we get you cleaned up, and at least get a new mattress in here and some food in you, maybe I’ll tell you.” He’s not bothering to hide his enjoyment, and it turns your stomach.

“I hate you.” It slips out before you can stop it, but instead of getting angry, Lloyd just laughs.

“Oh Princess. I think that’s the best part about all of this,” he runs a hand through his hair before he steps closer. He reaches for you, and you flinch, but force yourself to remain still as he cups your chin. “You really, really don’t.” You’re not expecting him to kiss you, then, to slant his mouth across yours hungrily. You’re too shocked to fight it, standing there shocked as his worry at your lip and he sucks at your tongue until you’re panting, nipples pressing furiously through your nightgown—and then all at once it’s over. Lloyd drags his thumb across your lip.

“Bathroom.” He points. “I’ll join you in a moment.” Lloyd straightens back up, watching you jerk back from him with a pleased smirk. “Oh, and Princess?” He waits until you turn to glare at him over your shoulder. “No peeking.”

You practically flee from him, slamming the door behind you. You press yourself against it, your heart pounding. Pressing a hand to your tingling lips, you fumble at the handle with the other before your brows crease with confusion. To your dismay, there is no lock, only a handle. You’d thought yourself completely dry of tears, but to your surprise, more come, welling up as you slap a hand to your mouth so Lloyd doesn’t hear you sob.

For some reason, you’d imagined your body would reject them, go stone cold at their touch now with how deeply your hatred seemed to burn—but as you reach between your legs with trembling fingers to check what you already know is true, you can’t help but hate yourself just as much.

You’re not supposed to like it.

The bathroom has been relatively untouched by your rage, nothing broken or out of place really beyond a few towels. Your cotton nightgown joins them on the floor as you turn on the tub’s faucet, and it drowns out the sound of moving furniture through the door. There’s an assortment of bath products lined up on the side, all ones you like. You resist the urge to knock them over or pour them all down the drain.

How long had they prepared this place for you? How long had it taken them to plot out each excruciating detail?

How long had they known they were going to?

The door handle clicks and jiggles, and you scramble for a towel as Lloyd enters. You know it’s ridiculous, your fear of being nude before him—he’s seen you naked dozens of times by now, he’d fucked you—but the muscle memory of it remains. He closes it behind him, glancing past you to the tub.

“Oh, lovely.” He steps around you, his hands lingering familiarly on your waist before he reaches for the bottles. Lloyd grabs a few of them, glancing at the labels before making a noise low in his throat. “Ah, this one. You like Jasmine, don’t you Princess?”

“How do you know that?” You glare at him accusatorially as he pours a hefty capful into the water. It begins to foam up almost immediately, the scent of jasmine and roses filling the air. Lloyd removes his rings and watch before dipping his hand into the water, mixing it. You glare hatefully at his back. “Did Ransom tell you?”

“Now why would Ransom have to tell me that?” He glances over his shoulder at you.

“Be-because you don’t know me at all!” You stammer. “That’s why this is all so fucking insane!” It bubbles out of you before you can stop it, frustrated, enraged tears brimming in your eyes. “You don’t know the first fucking thing about me!”

“Is that what you tell yourself, Princess?” He asks, turning to face you. You’re suddenly very aware of how few options you have for space, the way Lloyd has placed himself between you and the door, using your own fear to herd you over to the far side of the bathroom, away from him—and from your escape.

“That I don’t know a goddamn thing about you? That I’ve got no reason to feel about you the way I do?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “You know, people have a funny way of remembering the things they want to remember—come here, Princess, this is supposed to be relaxing,” he cuts himself off, beckoning you with one hand. “I’ve had plenty of time to consider my feelings. Trust me.”

You wait for Lloyd to show signs of impatience, for his lips to crease into thin, angry lines, for his eyes to go cold and hard—but it doesn’t happen. Slowly, you approach, your fist clenched so tight around the towel that your fingers ache. He licks his lips.

“Can’t have a relaxing bath with that on.” He flicks at the hem of your towel with his fingers. “I promise, Princess, I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

He’s seen it before. He’s seen it before. Somehow, you still feel like a married woman showing yourself to a stranger when you release your white knuckled grip on the terrycloth, and it falls to the ground between you. You don’t want to see Lloyd’s face so you look at the large bathtub instead, watch the waterline slowly rise as as the seconds tick by.

“Let me help you in.” Lloyd’s hand is warm on the small of your back as he gingerly assists you into the bath. You don’t want to enjoy it, the way you don’t want to enjoy anything he does for you. The tension, the fear—it’s all living in your muscles and in your marrow, and though you don’t want it to, the hot water feels good, damn him. The sound of Lloyd’s belt buckle reactivates your adrenaline, and water sloshes up over the sides of the tub as you sit up, scrambling back.

Fresh fear rises in you as you watch him unclasp the gold chain from around his neck, placing it down next to his rings with a soft metallic click.

“Easy, Princess. Easy.” He steps in, arranging himself behind you as you practically curl into yourself to escape him. “I promised.” He doesn’t bother trying to hide his cock, swelling eagerly against his thigh.

“Excuse me if I find those fucking meaningless,” you spit, flinching as Lloyd cups water over your shoulders. He settles himself in behind you, and you abhor the way your body seems to fit against his, like two puzzle pieces fitting together. You hate the way his half-hard cock sits perfectly against you, throbbing whenever you fidget. You’re shocked to find that there is part of you that enjoys it regardless, the closeness, the affection. After so long feeling only your own fingers on your skin, it feels strange and compelling to be so close to someone else. It’s electric to feel Lloyd against you, feels nearly as fitting and right as it had with Ransom—though you assure yourself that is only because they’re practically physically identical.

Was it ever right with Ransom, though? You’re starting to feel like you’d never even known your husband at all. You knew bits, pieces of the whole, but now you’re seeing him as he is… maybe as he’s always been. Or was that just what he wanted me to feel? What they both wanted me to feel?

“Oh you wound me, Sweetheart,” he sighs, reaching for the soap and neatly folded washcloth on the side. “At least your parents think a little more highly of me.” You turn your head so fast your neck aches.

“My parents? You’ve talked to my parents?”Lloyd says nothing, the corners of his mouth lifted into a small, knowing smile. “Where do they think I am?” Lloyd says nothing, and merely begins to wash your back with the soapy cloth, his strokes firm, but gentle. The silence lengthens between you, broken only by the sound of water and breath. It ticks on until you feel the frenzied anxiety beneath your skin erupt out of your mouth.

“Answer me!”

“Princess, I think a much more interesting question is where you think you are.” He swipes it between your shoulder blades, brushing your curls out of the way to get at the back of your neck. When his lips brush the hell of your ear, it’s all you can do not to flinch. “Where do you think you are?”

You’re tempted to answer snarkily, or better yet, to turn around and try your hand at hitting him as hard as you can—but something inside tells you that that will end worse than it had with Ransom. Instead, you force yourself to actually think. The days are long, tropical, hot. You can’t feel that heat, of course, not from inside your room, but the sand, the sea, the trees…

“You never moved me. We’re still on Mykonos.”

Lloyd’s brows rise, but he smiles. “You’re so fucking smart, Princess. Anybody ever tell you that?” The praise feels wrong, sliding down your skin like oil. You don’t want to accept it—and because you cannot accept it, you attempt to ruin it.

“Not smart enough to see you coming.” You retort, but the venom either doesn’t phase Lloyd, or he’s just that good at disguising his own offense, but he just continues to clean you up like it doesn’t bother him one bit. He’d been eager to get the trip started—more eager than anyone else. He’d been in a rush, you realize now, to get you here. To get to the good part, the part where he got to have you alone and defenseless. And worse, he got to have you with permission. Perhaps that’s why he’s so patient. He can afford to be, after all.

“I loved you the minute we met. You know that?” He’s busy working shampoo through your hair, raking it through the tangled mess until it falls neatly, laden down by product. “You never thought I was serious back then.” Lloyd chuckles in that way that reminds you of Ransom. “Maybe I wasn’t. But I am now—we are. About making a life for you, for us.” His hand travels around to cup the barely-there swell of your belly. “For our family.”

“Stop it!” You hiss, your teeth gritted. You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to hear him spout words of devotion to you because they feel too good to hear—it feels good to hear anything at all after nearly two a half weeks of only your own sobs for company—

“Stop what?” You throw his hand off of you as you whirl to face him, water splashing out loudly onto the tile.

“Stop pretending like you’re doing this for me instead of to me.” You snarl. “You—”

“Are supporting your family.” He reminds you. “Nathalie gets to finish college debt free. Your father gets first pick of every single construction job in the city.”

“And I get to be a prisoner.” As Lloyd rinses the shampoo from your hair, you cannot help but wonder which was worse—the unknowing way you’d allowed the both of them to violate you, or sitting here in the aftermath, knowing you’d never had a chance anyway.

“Where’s Ransom?”

“Sick of me already, Princess?” Lloyd asks, and you clench your teeth to keep from answering. “He’s a little busy at the moment. But I’m not gonna lie, I’m not disappointed he couldn’t make it,” Lloyd spreads the butter onto his baked potato with relish before his blue eyes flick up to yours. “I like having you all to myself, sometimes.” He hadn’t touched you in the bath, true to his word—but you can see the desire plainly on his face now, and it makes you squirm uncomfortably.

“You’ve never had me all to yourself, Lloyd.” You remind him. “I—I married Ransom.”

His smile doesn’t disappear, doesn’t even lessen. If anything, it gets bigger. “Haven’t I?” He chews thoughtfully. Ransom had told you the-the sharing had begun a year ago, but… but what if that wasn’t the first time?

What if that was only when they’d made a habit of it?

Your stomach lurches, and you swallow bile, suddenly less hungry than before. You don’t know if you want an answer to this question. Instead, you circle back.

“You said if I let you do what you wanted, you’d tell me if there were other people here.” Lloyd’s eyes flick up to meet yours.

“Is that what I said?” He hums. “No good hotel runs without staff, Princess.” You scoff at his answer. “Of course there are a few dedicated employees.”

“And my parents?”

“I believe I promised you one answer for good behavior, Princess.” Lloyd practically purrs the pet name at you. “Not two.” You’re tempted to argue—you want to, but you understand a warning when one is given. The way you skirt the edge of his patience makes you angry with yourself, but when you think again of the two and a half weeks of silence, the long days spent rambling to yourself so that you would hear something, anything—you cannot experience that again. So you sit prettily as he fusses over your hair and your skin, swallowing your self loathing.

He helps you dry off with the fluffy, comfortable towels you’ve been refusing to use, taking great care to rub cocoa butter into the supple skin of your belly. And when you emerge back into the bedroom, only evidence of the most heinous of your acts of defiance remain: the cracked mirror above the dresser, many of the draws missing—you had smashed them to bits against the unyielding windows. Everything that wasn’t too heavy to lift had been subject to your rage, even the mattress. But now, it’s almost like it had never even happened.

The bed is freshly made, floor swept clean of debris. And on the new table—made of dark, heavy wood—there is dinner. And it’s real fucking food this time, not just a bland chicken salad sandwich cobbled together on dry bread. Roast chicken, carrots and potatoes are steaming on the plates, a bowl of salad between them. Your stomach twists at the sight of it. Shrugging quickly into one of the many pairs of plain white tank-tops and shorts sitting on top of the dresser, and make a beeline for the food.

Lloyd emerges from the bathroom moments later, his polo shirt laid over one arm, his briefs slung low on his damp hips.

“Oh good, dinner.”

You sit awkwardly across from him, attempting to split your attention between eating your food and watching Lloyd.

“How long do you plan to keep me here?”

“I’d be careful with the questions, Princess.” He says, fixing you with a warning look as he chews. “Some questions have answers you’re not gonna like.” Somehow, that tells you everything anyway, and you feel yourself shiver, but not with cold. His eyes are hard when you meet them.

“That long, huh?” You ask, turning to stare at the dark, troubled sea through your window. It feels like you’re in a movie—a fucking horror movie. Lloyd sighs.

“Think of it like a vacation. No work, no responsibilities—”

“Lloyd, please.” You can’t look at him. The rage, the terror—they’re all boiling over inside of you, and if you look at him, if you see his fucking face, you know you’ll lose it. And if you do, you have a feeling that you won’t recognize yourself if you’re left alone for another two weeks. So instead, you stare out at the water, chewing up the words you want to say and swallowing them back down.

“This isn’t a villa, it’s a prison. I can’t—” you choke back bitter tears. “You won’t even let me outside.”

“You’re getting yourself all worked up, and you’re not going to be able to keep down your dinner.” He places a hand over yours, and the shock of his touch makes you jump, reeling back. “When we can trust you, Princess, then we’ll talk about day trips.” Hope lights a tiny candle in your chest.

“We will?”

“We will.” He points at your food with his fork. “Now eat up.” You do, forcing yourself to eat every bite on your plate. When Lloyd bids you goodnight, he tucks a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up until you’re forced to look at him.

“Goodnight, Princess.” He kisses you again, disgustingly softly.

—

You sleep fitfully after Lloyd leaves. Turning back and forth, kicking the cotton sheets off until they lay in a heap at the bottom of the bed. Sweat sticks your tank-top to your clammy skin, and as you wake for the nth time that night, the memory of what scant dreams you’re able to achieve brings heat to your cheeks.

Hands on your skin—two sets of them—prying open your lips to rest on your tongue, sliding between your legs—

You wake in your new bed feeling testy and anxious, glowering at the sunlight glinting sharply off the water. Clean clothes lay folded on the dresser, a pitcher of water and cups now sat on a rolling tray by the table. It isn’t lost on you that as soon as you’d begged for them the quality of your care had vastly improved. You’re reluctant to admit that it’s a relief, not sleeping on the mattress you yourself had destroyed, avoiding the splinters of broken wood on the floor.

But now there are none.

The tile floor is swept clean, the new mattress bearing fresh sheets, the new furniture polished to gleaming.

This is what you can have if you forgive us, the neatly folded clothes in the new dresser-drawers seem to say before you close them again with a sharp snap. This is what you can have if you give us forever.

All you have to give is forever.

The room seems somehow larger now, since Lloyd’s visit, emptier—lonelier. You resolve not to ask them for anything again, ignoring the desperate, terrified part of you that dreads a return to the silent nothing. They’re smart—there’s not even a book in here for you to entertain yourself with. Through them, that good things flow, you know that’s what they’re trying to teach you. The part that sickens you most is that it’s true—and has been for a long time. You cannot remember the last time you’d had to pay a bill or concern yourself with the cost of living. You don’t even know what Ransom pays in rent for the apartment—you don’t know that you ever even did.

You get out of bed, pulling the sheets back up over the spot you’d vacated as you take stock.

Normally, your chicken-salad sandwich would be on a clean plastic tray in front of the door, but today there is nothing. You are not a creature of habit by nature, shakeups in your routine typically do nothing more than irritate you. But for some reason, this makes you antsy, anxious.

Had you upset Lloyd last night with your questions?

Why do you even care?

As you contemplate what you’ve given away without knowing it, you hear the sound of the outer door opening. You don’t know what it looks like outside of your room, not really, but you’ve caught snatches of the concrete hallway and stairs just beyond the doorway. The sound of the pinpad echoes in the quiet room before the door opens.

Ransom steps over the threshold, a tray held steady in his arms.

“Good morning, Sweetheart.” Your eyes fill with tears as you stare at him, your lip trembling as you try to bite back on the overwhelming emotion that fills you at the sight of your husband. “I missed you so much.”

to be continued…

next chapter

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

#chris evans #cevans #cevans fandom #cevans fic #chris evans fic #ransom drysdale #lloyd hansen #ransom drysdale x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen smut #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x you #lloyd hansen x you #doppelganger fic #darkfic #smut

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exhaslo · 5 months

Note

Since Puzzle Pieces is a favorite piece of mine from your writing could you dk like a mini side story about reader and mafia!miguel raising a family together especially with reader navigating finding herself

MORE SIDE CONTENT!!! LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOO

Warning: Minors DNI, some smut, mentions of sex, mentions of murder, mentions of bullying

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

"Mama, mama, mama! Wanna play at park, please, please, please?!"

Unable to resist the adorable look your oldest son was giving you, you caved.

"Alright, sweetie. Why don't you pick out an outfit while I call daddy to let him know, okay?"

You smiled brightly as the toddler cheered before running off to his room. It has been a few years into your relationship with Miguel and you couldn't be happier. The two of you had three beautiful children...and counting according to Miguel.

Your oldest son, Gabriel, was four; the second child, Gabriella, was two; and the last child, Kron, was only a few months old.

Humming lowly as you took your two youngest children to your room, you placed them on the bed before calling Miguel. Ever since your children were born, Miguel took extra caution whenever you would go out.

It was thanks to an incident when you and Lyla went out for some clothes shopping when Gabriel was about five months old. One of the other mafia families had the nerves to kidnap the three of you for ransom. Miguel did not take it lightly and ended up killing that new form mafia family.

"Hey, Miggy, I'm taking the kids to the park. Little Gabriel was just too cute to say no too," You said with a giggle.

"Aye, mi amor (my love), you must show some restraint with him."

"I know, I know."

"I'll send some men over. How are you doing today?" Miguel asked, wanting to make sure his wife was in good health.

"I'm okay, Migs-"

"AHHHHH PLEASE!"

"Are you okay? Another mafia group bothering you?" You asked after hearing the screams in the background. Miguel just chuckled softly,

"Not reason a bother, more like an insect. But don't worry, mi amor, they will be squashed in a moment. After I'm done here, I should be able to go home early."

"Maybe you could join us at the park, hehe," You said with a smile as you finished changing Gabriella.

"Daddy!"

"Yes, Gabi, your daddy might join us~"

"Now I have to finish early. I'll see you soon."

With that, Miguel hung up. You continued to change your youngest before laughing at how Gabriel dressed. Once finished, you had to fix your oldest clothing. With the three finally ready to go, you waited for Migue's men to appear.

You loved Miguel. He was still ever so kind and gentle with you. Your stuttering had calmed down with his help, although, you do get the occasional nerves, especially with new people. If anything, your children were the biggest reason for you to try and get better.

You wanted them to look up to you. Miguel was not only a powerful mafia boss, which the kids won't know about, but also one of the world's most powerful CEO. Compared to Miguel, you were just a small little bunny.

The thought made you sorrow. You wanted to do something with your life as well, but what? You've spent a good portion being bullied and ridiculed by both your parents and your ex boyfriend. Hell, if it wasn't for Miguel, you might not be here.

"Mama, the Peters are here!" Gabriel cheered.

Chuckling lowly towards your son's cute group name, you opened the door for the Peters. Jessica was there as well and greeted you and the small children.

"Hey, how's everything going?" You asked, wanting to get your mind off of your failures.

"Good. My kid's causing a ruckus in school every now and then. Wished, he got more of his father than me," She said with a laugh.

"Awe, I don't even want to think about sending Gabriel to school. I'll miss him too much!"

"Girl, with how Miguel is, he'll give you another baby." Jessica said with a wide smirk causing you to blush.

Miguel would.

--------

You were tired. You were sitting on one of the park benches, watching Kron as your other two children played. The Peters were watching the two children like a hawk while Jessica helped you with your youngest. Even with the help, you felt drained from other parents watching you.

It brought you back into your thoughts of what you wanted to do with your life. You had been through so much trauma that you could write a book, but would anyone read it? Would it be too depressing for other people?

"Excuse me, are all these men with you? You're making the other parents feel uncomfortable," A woman spoke while approaching both you and Jessica.

"O-Oh," You flinched, "S-Sorry...um-"

"Her husband worries a lot. They are her and her children's bodyguards, do mind yours." Jessica huffed.

"Well, it's still making everyone uncomfortable!"

You felt your heart sink. You couldn't even stand up for yourself against other parents. What were you going to do when your children went to school?

"My apologies, then perhaps we shall find another park for our children to play at."

Miguel placed his hand against your back, smiling casually towards the irate woman. It was instant that the parents gasped upon realizing who Miguel was. They immediately said it was fine as people tried to approach Miguel.

"And here we go," Miguel said with a heavy sigh. You smiled towards your husband,

"I'm sure the kids played enough for today,"

"DADDY!!!!"

"See?" You giggled as the two children ran towards Miguel.

Miguel laughed as he picked up his children. His loving gaze towards his family made you swell with joy. As long as Miguel supports whatever you want to do, you will be happy. Hell, knowing Miguel, he would make everyone in his mafia to buy your book, puzzle or whatever you do.

"Ready to go home?" Miguel asked his kids. They whined in response, "Mommy and Daddy have important work to do."

You felt your cheeks warm up as you looked at Miguel in protest. Using sex as an excuse for important work was going to get old eventually. You whined in turn as your children agreed to Miguel's ridiculous lie.

--------

"Tell me, (Y/N), what's been on your mind lately?" Miguel asked with a hum as he pressed your body against the bed, his cock reaching the deepest part of your gummy walls.

"M-Miggy, n-no fair," You whined as he held your legs over his shoulders, "I-I can't think...l-like this."

"Sure you can,"

With a thrust of his hips, you gasped and moaned his name. Your body melting against his touch and pussy clenching around his dick. No matter how many times Miguel would fuck you, it still brought you to nirvana each time.

Whimpering as Miguel's thrusts grew faster and rougher, you couldn't hold your voice back. You arched your back, whining and moaning as Miguel slapped against that sweet spot of yours.

"There's my little bunny. Wanna tell me what's wrong, amor?" Miguel whispered in your ear as he pressed you into mating position.

"Mhm~" You wanted to protest, but how could you? "I-I...ah~ I want...t-to do something...mhm~ with my l-life-"

"Amor,"

Miguel whispered softly, pulling you in for a kiss as you confessed. His thrusts were slow and sweet as he held you closely.

"Hah~ Ah~ M-Maybe...I...I could w-write a b-book."

"I'll support whatever you do, (Y/N). Just say the word and it's yours."

"Mhm~"

You wrapped your arms around Miguel as the two of you continued your 'important work'.

--------

Once all of your children were asleep, you sat in the living room, typing away on a laptop Miguel bought for you. Miguel approached you from behind, placing a cup of hot tea on the table. You smiled as he took his spot beside you, kissing your shoulder.

"Have you decided what you want to do?" Miguel asked softly. You rested your head against his,

"Well, I want to write about what I went through. Maybe...it will help other people try and get out of their similar fate....and I want to make learning puzzles for kids."

"Hm, seems like my wife has a busy schedule ahead of her." Miguel's arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you onto his lap, "Just let me know and I'll help anyway I can."

"Thank you, Miguel." You titled your head and kissed him sweetly, "I love you."

"I love you more,"

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I hope you enjoyed! Puzzle Pieces is always fun to write! Also, you all might like my new series:

Over-Time

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy

#spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #atsv miguel

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bigtreefest · 6 months

Note

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Ransom + kiss on the cheek + “You smell good.”

Meet the Parents

Boyfriend! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 1,998

A/N: The Shameless Hoe Fairy? At my doorstep? What a surprise!! I was so excited to write this prompt, and hope I did Ransom justice.

Drabble? I don’t know her. I’ll call this a double Drabble based off word count?

Warnings: probably the most suggestive fic I’ve written, so just to be safe, minors DNI, allusions to smut, schmoozing but it’s actually so genuine, family, L-bomb, nickname/pet name usage

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

You had spent two weeks coaching Ransom to meet your family. After a long phone call with your mom on the way home from work, she insisted you bring him over for dinner.

“Family should know everything about each other.” She insisted. You rolled your eyes and hummed in response. At this point, you knew that sometimes there was no fighting her and you just had to say whatever she wanted to hear.

“Okay, mom. I’ll talk to him about it, but to be fair, I haven’t even met his parents yet. Anyway, I’m pulling into my place right now. I’ve gotta let you go.” Your hand hovered over the keys in the ignition, eager to take them out as soon as she’d say goodbye.

“I don’t know why you’re kicking me off the phone so soon, but okay. We’ll plan it out for him to come over soon. Love you, bye.”

“Love you, too. Bye, mom.” You turned off the car and scooped up your bag and keys, heading inside.

As soon as you hit the kitchen, you flailed your arms out, dropping all your stuff on the island. You and Ransom had plans for him to come over and cook with you tonight, but after that call, there was no way that was gonna happen. You could only allocate your energy towards so much at a time.

You had considered asking Ransom if he wouldn’t mind doing the majority of the work for the meal tonight since the two of you had picked up the groceries over the weekend, but quickly thought better. You were already exhausted, no need to add a kitchen cluttered with dirty dishes and burnt food to the list.

You picked up your phone from the mess you made and called Ransom, surprised it only took one ring before he picked up.

“Hey, Sweetheart, I’m on the way over now. You better have a good recipe up your sleeve, because I’m driving through a row of restaurants and the scent is heavenly.” You wanted to laugh but your body felt too weighed down.

“About that, Ran. Can there be a change of plans? I know I said I’d teach you a new recipe tonight, but I have next to no energy left. Will you actually just pick something up? Your choice.”

The line went silent for a beat before you had to pull the phone away from your ear at Ransom’s boisterous response. “THANK GOD. Yes, I’ll do that. Be there in 20.”

And with that he hung up the phone and you flopped down on the couch waiting for him to arrive.

Ransom’s knock on your door jerked you awake. You responded with a rasp. “It’s open.”

He made his way over to you and set down the bags of food on your coffee table.

“Hi, Ranny.” You smiled up at him, your eyes still half lidded with sleep.

Ransom reached for your hands, draping them over the back of his neck as he crouched over you, eventually lowering himself down so his head was on your chest, the rest of his broad form blanketing you on the couch. You kissed the top of his head and stroked his hair as he mumbled through his squished cheeks. “What’s got you all like…this?” He gestured to your face without looking up.

He still wasn’t that great at expressing his care for the emotions of others, but for you, he was trying. You sighed and patted his shoulders.

“Food first, then I’ll tell you.”

You pushed back your takeout box on the coffee table and finally looked up at Ransom. He had been eyeing you skeptically the whole meal, leaning against the bottom of the couch, both of you sitting on the floor, as he ate his own food. It wasn’t like him to be that quiet. He must’ve been worried.

“Hi.” You softly whispered to him, looking back into his piercing gaze.

“Hi. You wanna tell me what’s going on now?” He returned with a gentle sternness in his tone.

You nodded, your shoulders rolling back as you built up the courage to address this big of a topic. “My parents want to meet you.”

Ransom’s jaw stopped chewing his food. He set down his utensils and swallowed, shifting to put his elbows on the table to look at you. “Okay… what’s so wrong with that? Parents love me.”

You grimaced, you really liked him, but didn’t want to subject your relationship to the gauntlet of your family.

“Nothing, really, it’s just, my parents are very traditional. Like, super religious and conservative.”

Ransom continued to look at you intently, nodding slowly. “So what exactly are you saying? I wouldn’t be approved by your parents?”

“No! I’m not saying that at all, I just want to make sure they see how great you are. They tend to judge harshly and quickly. The first time I brought a guy home, they literally said, ‘Yeah, I think you’d be better as friends. Let him down easy.’ And I never saw him again because couldn’t handle their disappointed faces every time I mentioned his name. I don’t want to have to go through that with you- no, I can’t go through that with you because I love you and you’re it for me.”

Ransom’s eyes went wide. That was the first time you had said it and he was surprised by how quotidian it seemed. Like you should’ve been saying it this whole time. Your eyes went wide as well with surprise at what had slipped out as his face morphed into a grin. It wasn’t shit-eating or mischievous, it was full of love and… lust?

“Get over here.” You silently scooted around the coffee table on your knees and made your way to Ransom as he reached his arms out and guided you into his lap. He pulled you close so your noses were touching, his long eyelashes fluttering along your cheeks as you whimpered.

“Let me show you how much I love you. I’ll savor you right here and treat you like the only woman on Earth, because you’re it for me, too.” Ransom made a move to press his lips against yours, but you pulled back.

“Wait, Ran. There’s something I have to tell you first.” His eyes darted in between yours with concern.

“My parents still think I’m a virgin.” His shoulders dropped as he looked at you incredulously, head cocked to the side.

“Is that it? I mean, we both know you’re far from pure already if I’ve got anything to say about it.” The corner of his mouth turned up and you hid your head in his neck. You pulled back, pushing your hands against his shoulders to keep distance so you could focus enough to get the rest of the information out.

“Just, with everything I told you, there are some household rules we’ll have to follow.”

“Mmhmm.” He hummed, kissing a trail up your forearm.

“Ran, I mean it. No kissing around them, not on the lips at least. Forehead and cheek only.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He continued, kissing his way up the other arm.

“Seriously, and no inappropriate touching, or private conversations in a separate room.”

His trail continued up your neck. “Is that all?”

You sighed and tilted your head back, closing your eyes. “You probably have to bring a bottle of wine. And flowers for my mom and sister.” You meant to sound stern, but it came out as more of a gasp.

“Consider it done, sweetheart.” He moved up your cheek, then leaned in for a deep kiss that left you breathless.

Two weeks later, you were staying at your parents’ house for a long weekend. They had come to pick you up, and Ransom was going to drive you back home after the meal so you could go to work the next morning. Letting Ransom stay over would probably never be a thought in their mind until the two of you were married, so he was only coming over for Sunday night dinner.

You were nervous and hoped his weeks of prep had been taken to heart. On a normal day with Ransom, he was all over you, so you had no idea how he was going to keep his hands to himself, if only for a few hours.

You had told him your parents valued punctuality, too, having met in the military, so you were delighted to hear the doorbell at 5:15 when they’d told him to be there at 5:30.

You ran down the steps and opened the door to be greeted by your boyfriend holding two bouquets and a bottle of wine as your mother followed closely behind you. Ransom was looking more handsome than usual, if that was even possible, with his signature sweater and carefully styled hair. You preferred it floofy and a little messy, as it was most mornings, but it was perfect for your mom to see him.

Ransom handed you the bottle of wine as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. “You look beautiful, Sweetheart.” You blushed and gestured toward your mom with your free hand.

“Mom, this is Ransom, Ransom, I’d like you to mee-“

Before you could even finish the introduction, she cut you off. “Mom, you can call me Mom, dear. It’s so great to meet you.” Ransom laughed and handed her a bouquet of flowers with charm before she pulled him in for a hug. You raised your eyebrows in surprise at the greeting. You’d never seen her be this welcoming before, even when your sister brought her husband home for the first time. Ransom looked over his shoulder at you and winked as your mother dragged him into the living room to meet the rest of the family.

You made your way to the kitchen with the bottle of wine, catching your dad who was finishing up the meal.

“Hey Dad, Ransom just got here. Need any help finishing up?” He looked up from the pot he was stirring and squinted to read the label on the bottle of wine in your hands.

“Ah, that’s a good one. Why don’t you pull out some glasses and open it up so we can get it airing. Would you be a dear and help me take this all out to the table? I’m gonna go introduce myself.”

You nodded and got to work running the dishes out to the dining room.

Dinner with Ransom went off without a hitch. He was a perfect gentleman without it seeming forced, engaging in conversation with your family with ease. Every topic he brought up complimented you and touched on your best moments with each other, your sister and her husband chiming in on their similar experiences and your parents looking at the two of you with approval and admiration.

When it was time to go, your parents made you each a bag full of leftovers, insisting you’d both have dinners for the whole week. You smiled and happily took them, waving goodbye until they closed the door behind you. Ransom grabbed your hand, still keeping a respectful amount of distance between your bodies before walking you to the other side of his Beamer. He opened the passenger door for you before he grabbed the bag of food out of your hands and placed it in the back along with his. He leaned into the car, finally out of the line of sight of your parents’ windows as he buckled you into your seat. As he leaned back, he kissed you on the cheek again before nosing against your neck.

“You smell good. So good I almost went crazy when I first got here.” He pulled back, pupils blown with lust, swallowing his icy irises, as he leaned in with his arm resting against the roof of the car.

“Now let’s take you home so I can take you apart.”

Part 2

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #shameless hoe fairy #knives out #Chris Evans #boyfriend ransom #meet the parents

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holylulusworld · 8 months

Text

Entitled rich people

Summary: Your boyfriend and his family are the worst.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader

Warning: snobbish rich people, cocky Bucky, running away with a stranger trope, a break-up

Your boyfriend and his family are the worst. Entitled rich people at their best.

One moment they greet you sweetly, and the next they ask about your father’s business, and if the rumors are true.

To hell with rumors. Your father’s business was in trouble for a while, but he’s a smart and eloquent man.

He mastered the challenge and saved his company. But this doesn’t matter to people like Linda Drysdale.

If she finds a weak spot, she’ll hit you hard, and without mercy.

“Oh, it’s so sweet of you to visit us with Ransom while your father’s business is in trouble. I thought you’d prefer helping your father,” Linda coos, her eyes set on you next to your boyfriend.

“Business is fine,” you are your mother’s daughter, and never back down. Especially not in front of Linda Drysdale. “Sometimes the sea gets a little rougher, you know.” You flash her a perfect faked smile. “Luckily my father is a very good sailor and knows how to run his business. Unlike other people.”

You dip your head to glance at Joni and her daughter. Two perfect examples of people who know how to live off the money of someone else. In their case, Harlan Thrombey. The only bearable member of this fucked up family.

“Sure, sure,” she waves your words off as if you are only an insect to her she can squish with her boot. “Your father knows best.” Linda sneers. “I hope he can save his business.”

“I think he already did.” You dip your head to look the man’s way. “Or so I heard. It was all over the news. Something about a fusion, and Miracle Inc. doing better than before.”

“Who asked you?” Linda’s nostrils flare, and she glares at the man daring to talk without her allowance. “I hired you for the garden, not to interrupt my conversation. People these days.”

“Right, people these days,” the cocky man mirrors her attitude. You chuckle. This guy doesn’t bow in front of Linda Drysdale, and it’s refreshing. “And you didn’t hire me for the garden.”

He steps closer, giving you a once-over while passing you by. He’s wearing black jeans, a matching black leather jacket and black boots. He looks like a bad boy, but his soft blue eyes tell you there is so much you don’t know about him…yet.

You glance in his way, waiting for him to say more. His voice is deep and rough. Something you like about a man.

“What? Of course, I hired you to take care of the garden. I remember our conversation,” she argues, but the stranger won’t have it.

“Lady, you didn’t hire me,” he points his index finger at her. “Your son,” the stranger now jerks his head toward Ransom standing next to you. Your boyfriend stiffens, and he shifts from one foot to the other, “came to my store, bought a bike, and never paid for it. I’m here to get either my money or the bike back.”

“You bought a bike like some vulture?” A gasp escapes Linda’s mouth. She stares at her son, shell-shocked at the news. “Y/N! Why didn’t you stop him? I knew you were trouble when Ransom brought you here for the first time. Before he met you, Ransom would’ve never done such a thing.”

“I’m not his mommy,” you huff, frustrated. “I have better things to do than watching your son’s every step. Unlike him, I got a job.”

“Because your daddy is bankrupt,” Ransom huffs, and pouts. He glares down at you, making sure you know your relationship just ended.

“No. Because my parents raised me right. They gave me roots, but freedom. I work because I want to make my own money, and not live off my trust fund. Which,” you grit your teeth, “by the way is way bigger than yours.”

“Back to the bike,” the stranger interrupts your break-up scene with Ransom. “Money, or my bike. Now!”

“I’ll call the cops. This is a home invasion,” Linda points at the stranger. “You better leave my house.”

“You better teach your son how to pay for the shit he buys,” the man grins. “Don’t you worry. I know where he parked my bike. The pretty boy fell off the bike the first time he tried to get on it.” The man chuckles now.

“I want you to leave. Now.” Linda repeats. “Or I’ll call the cops.”

“Do it,” the man says. “We will see if you get away with stealing my bike.” He crosses his arms over his chest and quirks a brow. “I bet all your nice little friends would love to hear that your son is a thief.”

“No one will believe the likes of you,” she sneers and looks him up and down. “I’ll call my lawyer.”

“How about you call your lawyer, and I'll call mine,” he smirks. “If you want the public to know the Thrombey’s cannot pay their bills any longer.”

You sigh deeply. “As much as I enjoyed this get-together, I’ll go home now. Ransom, lose my number.” The stranger looks at you when you throw Ransom an angry look. “Never call me again. I’m tired of being your arm candy, and to bear your family.”

“If you need a ride, I can help you out.” The man jerks his head toward the door. “It’d be my pleasure to offer my help to a lady in need.”

“Y/N,” you take his offered hand.

“James,” he says, eyes dropping to your hand in his. “You can call me Bucky, though.”

Bucky promised to drive you home, but he had to stop at this bike shop first. One of his partners called him on his way out of Harlan’s house.

“Y/N, this is Steve,” Bucky points at his friend. “He’s my partner and best friend.”

“Hey, what about me? I got the bike back!” Another man holds out his hand. “Name’s Brock, sweetness.”

“I hope you got it back in one piece,” Bucky jokes. “And no flirting with the lady.” He suddenly wraps his arm around your shoulders. “This one is mine…”

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #ransom drysdale #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #Entitled rich people

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blackpilljesus · 4 months

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As more women decide to not have children or reproduce, a popular talking point is that maIes will rape and kill us all for refusing them. For starters, this says it all about how everyone is fully aware of maIe evil & female oppression. If it was a tiny minority of maIes that are abusive as many pretend, then this wouldn't be the kneejerk response. The idea that maIes will protect us or not hurt us if we comply is a trap. They will hurt women & girls no matter what we do. This is said to shift the blame of their actions from them to women.

One crucial thing to understand is that maIes already mass rape and kill women & girls even when women partner + reproduce with them. Subconsciously we know this given the measures we take to navigate this world. Most times women are killed it's by maIes they know, in many cases it occurs when women want to leave or have left but it also occurs when women are in relationships because if maIes cant find a reason to hurt women they'll create one. They'll accuse women of cheating, bc food wasnt cooked properly, bc she got pregnant, etc. Speaking of which, murder is one of the leading causes of death for pregnant women & its typically done by their partner. MaIes rape women just after they've given birth. It can take months to years for womens bodies to heal but doctors say "6 weeks" as its unexpected that maIes will "wait" longer than that. So obeying doesnt stop maIe violence, it's just an excuse to justify their terrorism. There is no reforming the system nor is there getting by peacefully so long as we do what maIes want because their intention is destruction no matter what. MaIes lied & claimed women will be protected but it's slavery. MaIes dont protect women and neither does the system so dont buy their threat.

There are several cases where maIes have raped & killed women despite having a partner and children. Wayne couzens had a wife & kids yet still raped & killed Sarah Everard, lewis haines killed Lily Sullivan despite having a wife and child. The toybox killer, and ted bundy had partners yet they still raped & killed other women. Many maIes who rape prostituted women have wives & kids at home. This takes me to my next point: terrorists are never content. It doesnt matter how much you give bc all they want to do is take. They want to constantly reaffirm their beliefs, security, and entitlement to the world so they'll keep causing havoc no matter how much you obey. There's a reason why developed nations do not pay ransoms nor do they negotiate with terrorists in many cases because when you give into these peoples demands they do not go away. It may keep them at bay for a bit but they will only return with bigger demands and will be willing to cause more harm and damage. The same thing applies to maIes & their terrorism. Giving in wont stop their violence or change them. At first short term they're kept at bay (if theres other women they abuse in their vicinity) but long term it wont work. Women have loved, served, fucked, provided labour, reproduced with, and birthed maIes for millenias. Women have given everything to maIes and what did they get in return? More violence, more demands, more destruction we're all familiar with this. No amount of submission has changed maIes for the better.

What's actually dangerous is women trusting + living around maIes, we're expected to just rely on how they wont hurt women but believe me maIes gain a power trip from the strength differences between the sexes. Even if they dont actively hurt women, the threat lingering in the air alone is a power they enjoy. So dont be paralysed with fear or think our refusal to interact with maIes is a cause for their violence. I wont deny that it's scary but this isn't just about us. It's about the future, the world our offspring are coming to. Assuming maIes get everything they want, it'll never be enough they'll keep plundering for more so at some point we need to put our foot down regardless of the cost.

I want to conclude this by recommending reading this post. The key point is

Opting out is for the select few who want to do nothing with heterosexual nonsense even if the price of doing so is death because partaking in their drivel is death, physical and spiritual, and if they really did care about distancing themselves from it all that much they would know that death is the least you will be willing to put up with.

I've noticed that most women who bring up the possibility of maIe retaliation are still seeking relationships with maIes in their lives so this seems more like another excuse in the end. The concern for maIe retaliation is real, especially among newer separatists, 4B, wgtow etc but the seasoned ones realise it doesnt matter and if deəth is what it takes to not be associated with maIes and their systems then so be it. Hell even the average woman would take another option or death if they were pre-faced with a situation where they have to be around maIes but there's no other woman to occupy them. You might wonder what the point is as the outlook is bleak; which is what the final part of this series of posts regarding the popularity of single childfree women is about - legacy & steering life with purpose.

Part 1

Part 2

This post is part 3.

#Sekhmet-SheOwl covered this brilliantly on her separatism mastervid so some of this comes from there as she radicalised me on this matter.#I miss Sekhmet-SheOwl she left when the world needed her the most.#I tried to keep this short then realised there's only like 2 people who would listen to this anyways. Still cut a lot down tho.#female separatism #blackpill feminism #female separatist #blackpill feminist #6b4t #4b #moids are terrorists #submission reenforces entitlement

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merlincersei · 1 month

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Merlin BBC UK TV Show - Opinion Piece Part 23 - Who Is Arthur Really Talking About In This Scene?

Time and again when I revisit this particular scene between Arthur and Merlin (referenced below) I can't help but notice how much "Merthur" has been implicitly queer coded in this show.

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The scene I am talking about is in the Season 2 Episode 4 titled "Lancelot and Guinevere" .

This episode can be summarized as follows:

Gwen is mistaken for Morgana and is kidnapped by Hengist. Uther refuses to pay the ransom or send a rescue party to save a servant. Arthur defies his father and sets out with Merlin to rescue Gwen. ______________________________________________________________

After Arthur and Merlin escape from the Wilddeoren, they have the following scene:

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While the casual viewer will look at this scene and state it is Arthur confessing his love for Gwen, however LISTEN CAREFULLY TO WHAT THEME PLAYS FROM 0:55 SECONDS ONWARDS IN THE BACKGROUND OF THIS SCENE.

The theme it plays is Merlin's Arrival to Camelot:

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Now ask youself why would the show put in "Merlin's Arrival to Camelot" theme in the background of a scene where Arthur is confessing his love for Gwen?

Especially when Arthur and Gwen already have a theme song called Gwen & Arthur Romance Suite.

youtube

Shockingly, the Gwen & Arthur Romance Suite is actually played in the background of a scene between Gwen and Lancelot when they kiss for the first time and Gwen states " As long as I live, my feelings for you will never fade."

Refer scene at 1:22 in the clip below:

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Going back to the scene between Merlin and Arthur, dont you think Arthur's description of Gwen can also be used for Merlin.

[EXT. FOREST, STREAM – DAY] [Arthur and Merlin wash off the Gaia berries by a stream.]

ARTHUR Gaia berries worked. Huh.

MERLIN You didn't know if they worked?

ARTHUR Not for sure.

MERLIN Now you tell me?! Oh! Oh, what's that Wildren eating? It's all right. It's just Merlin. You trying to get us both killed?

ARTHUR I'm sorry. I shouldn't've risked your life like that.

MERLIN Well, they do say love makes you do strange things.

ARTHUR What are you talking about?

MERLIN Why can't you just admit your feelings for Gwen?

[Arthur scoffs.]

MERLIN It's so obvious. A blind man could see it. Is it really that hard to admit you like her? Just say it. (MERLIN THEME STARTS TO PLAY)

ARTHUR I can't! How can I admit that I think about her all the time. Or that...I care about her more than anyone. How can I admit that...I don't know what I'll do if any harm comes to her?

(DID ARTHUR NOT RISK HIS OWN LIFE FOR MERLIN IN SEASON 1 EPISODE 4 THE POISONED CHALICE.

DID ARTHUR NOT FOLLOW MERLIN TO EALDOR IN SEASON 1 EPISODE 10 THE MOMENT OF TRUTH FOR A MERE SERVANT)

MERLIN Why can't you?

ARTHUR Because nothing can ever happen between us! (HOW TRUE! BBC SIMPLY WOULD NOT HAVE ALLOWED MERTHUR TO HAPPEN!) To admit my feelings knowing that...hurts too much.

MERLIN Who's to say nothing can happen?

ARTHUR My father won't let me rescue a servant. Do you honestly believe he'd let me marry one?

(IN SEASON 1 EPISODE 4 THE POISONED CHALICE. UTHER FORBADE ARTHUR TO RESCUE MERLIN AND EVEN HAD HIM IMPRISONED WHEN HE BROUGHT BACK THE CURE FOR MERLIN)

MERLIN You want to marry Gwen?

ARTHUR No! No...I...I don't know...It's all talk, and that's all it can ever be.

MERLIN When you're King, you can change that.

ARTHUR I can't expect Guinevere to wait for me.

MERLIN If she feels as you do, she'll wait for you.

(IN THE END OF THE SERIES, IT IS MERLIN WHO HAS BEEN WAITING FOR ARTHUR FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS!!)

ARTHUR We don't even know if she's still alive.

MERLIN No, she is. We will find her.

ARTHUR Come on. We've got a long trek ahead. Oh, and Merlin...if you dare tell anyone about this, I promise I will make your life a living hell.

MERLIN You mean, more than you already do?

ARTHUR Yeah.

MERLIN We could talk about your feelings while you walk.

ARTHUR Shut up, Merlin.

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I also managed to get a snapshot of a commentary Bradley James and Colin Morgan did for this particular episode and it is available on the DVD. Bradley's commentary is indeed very telling.

I REST MY CASE !!!

#bradley james #colin morgan #arthur pendragon #angel coulby #merthur #merlincersei #merlin bbc #youtube #gay subtext #queer coding #merlin meta #lgbtqia shows #bbc arwen #lancelot #signal boost

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krirebr · 1 year

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We Are Vain & We Are Blind

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x f!Reader

Word Count: ~9.7k

Summary: When you move back in with your parents after a broken engagement, a drunken dare to visit the scary house on the edge of town changes everything for you. Forever. Part of the Psycho Killer AU

Warnings: Please note, these warnings are broad to avoid spoilers. Proceed with caution. Horror, psychological horror (including but not limited to: general mind fuckery, memory loss, nightmares) noncon/dubcon, gore, death (see prompt), violence (mostly offscreen), explicit language, oral sex (f!receiving), me wildly picking and choosing from hundreds of years of {redacted} mythology, All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika

Masterlist

A/N: This is my entry for @the-slumberparty All Hallow’s Tropes challenge. My tropes were The house from all the scary stories; Caught trespassing on private property; and A string of unexplained deaths. I had so much fun writing this one. Thanks so much for hosting Navy and Roo!

I tried out a lot of new things here. Horror! Smut! A ridiculous length! I’d really appreciate hearing what you think, so please drop a comment or reblog if you read it. Or come screech at me about this or anything else in my asks! Thank you for reading lovelies!

Driving through your hometown, you were surrounded by fall colors. It was comforting, in its own way. Just as the seasons changed, so could you. You liked the sound of that, of this being a good change. You needed it. You were ready for it.

You pulled off of the main street and drove the few short blocks to your parents' house, parking on the side of the road. The house was something that hadn’t changed, everything exactly as it always had been. Your eyes drifted to the neighbor’s house, a piece of police tape hanging off the front door. Your brow furrowed in concern. You hoped everything was alright.

You grabbed your duffle from the backseat, deciding that you could wait to bring in everything else. Your entire life fit into your small sedan. You tried not to let that make you sad. This was good. Change was good.

You let yourself in with the key you'd had since you were a child. “Mom? Dad? I’m here,” you called into the house.

Your mom met you in the entryway with a big hug. “We’re so happy you’re here, honey.” She took a step back to look at you, concern all over your face. “I could kill Andy for what he did to you.”

You sighed, “I’m fine, Mom, really.”

“You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”

“I know, Mom,” you said, softly, both touched by her concern and a little annoyed that she was making you talk about it. You shrugged, “It’s over now.” Trying to change the subject, you asked, “What happened next door?”

Her face fell, “Oh, our poor neighbor died. They found him in the alley behind the American Legion. There was a whole investigation, but the coroner finally concluded that it was anemia.”

“I didn’t know you could die of that,” you said. Wasn’t it fairly controllable?

“I guess you can,” she shrugged, “if it’s bad enough and goes untreated.”

“Oh. Well, he must have been really sick then.”

She shrugged again, “Not that I ever saw, but how much can you ever know about someone you just say hello to at the mailbox? He was a nice young man, though.” She gave you another scrutinizing look, then gently patted your cheek. “Andy never deserved you,” she said and then made her way back down the hall towards the kitchen. “Your dad’s in his den,” she called over her shoulder.

You put your duffle down next to the stairs that led up to the bedrooms and moved through the house to find your dad. You found him in his den, sitting on the worn leather couch they’d had your entire life, baseball on the TV. You sat down next to him and he put his arm around you in a half hug. “It’s nice to have you home, sweetheart,” he said, not taking his eyes off the game.

“Thanks, Dad,” you said, appreciating the distance he was allowing you. The past month had been so hard. All the concern in everyone’s eyes, since it had all blown up with Andy, had become really difficult to take. You were happy to just sit here and watch baseball with your dad in silence.

At the next commercial break, he asked, “We have you for the whole night, or are you already making plans?”

You smiled. “I’m getting drinks with Tineka and David after dinner.”

“That’ll be nice,” he said. “Make sure you say hi for us.”

You got to the bar a little late. Your mom hadn’t wanted to give you up so easily, even though you’d be living with them and working from their house for the foreseeable future. You’d been to this bar a few times before, the nights before Thanksgiving when you were home from college, and drinking legally was still so novel. But not in ages, maybe a decade. You made your way through the Saturday night crowd, searching for Tineka before you found her set up in a booth in the back with her husband David, and someone you hadn’t seen in a very long time.

Tineka climbed over David to tackle you with a hug. “Oh my god! It’s been so long. I can’t believe you’re here!”

You returned the hug a little harder than she probably expected. Longer, too. She pulled back and examined you carefully, concern in her eyes. You just shook your head and smiled. “I’m really happy to see you,” you said.

She beamed back at you and then gestured to the last person at the table. “Look who we ran into!”

“Robbie, hey,” you said with a little wave. Gosh, you hadn’t seen him since graduation. You’d been decent friends your senior year and had even gone to Prom together when neither of you had been able to get another date. You’d lost touch when you’d gone away to school, and he’d stayed home to learn the family business.

“We mentioned that we were on our way to see you, and he wanted to tag along!” Tineka enthused, raising her eyebrows at you significantly. You struggled not to roll your eyes at her; it had been the tiniest crush, and that was so many years ago.

“Welcome home,” he said, sliding over to let you onto the bench seat.

You poured yourself a beer from the pitcher on the table, and you all quickly got into all the customary ‘nice to see you again’ questions. Was it weird to be back in town? Did you miss Boston? Did you know this teacher had retired? Or that that store had closed?

The pitchers multiplied, and when you’d lost track of whose turn it was to cover the next one, Tineka leaned forward excitedly, “Oh, here’s some good town gossip! Someone’s moved into the old Thrombey house!”

“What??” you yelled, louder than you meant to. “No way! I don’t believe it.”

“Wait, what’s the Thrombey House?” David asked. He didn’t grow up here with you, only moving here after he and Tineka got engaged, and she decided this was where she wanted to raise a family.

“It’s this old, abandoned house on the edge of town,” she told him. “There used to be this big, rich family that lived there. This was back in, like, the 70s. It was this old, super-rich guy and all his kids and in-laws and everybody. One night, one of his kids–”

“Grandkid,” you interrupted.

“Yeah, one of his grandkids, he just loses it and sets fire to the house, with everyone inside. They all die, and Hugh Drysdale, the grandkid, just disappears. No one ever sees him again.”

You nod seriously across from her. “And weird shit starts happening on the property. Like animal carcasses thrown onto what’s left of the porch. Or that psychic that went there when we were kids. She said all she felt was pain, and whatever spirits were there had a desperate warning, but she couldn’t get anything beyond that. And then our senior year, that freshman that disappeared around there. And no one’s ever been able to do anything with it. It just stands there, a burnt-out husk. There’s absolutely no way someone’s moved into it.”

Tineka was nodding furiously, but Robbie leaned forward and butted in. “Here’s what actually happened,” he told David. “There was an electrical fire. Everyone died, probably including Hugh.” Tineka took a breath, and Robbie put up his finger to stop her. “They never found his remains because he was burned to a crisp, and there wasn’t enough to identify.” He raised another finger, “It was abandoned long enough that animals moved in and left their prey lying around.” A third finger went up, “All these stupid stories and rumors have made it a beacon for the unwell and scam artists.” Another finger, “That kid disappeared because it’s where all you dumbasses would go to party, and he was drunk and wandered into the woods and got lost or fell or something.” He raised the last finger on his hand, “And whoever’s owned the property over the years probably doesn’t want to be responsible for the cost of demolition, so they’ve just done the bare minimum to keep the city off their backs.”

You turned to look at him, mildly annoyed, “I don’t remember you being this boring in high school.” He just rolled his eyes at you. “Whatever,” you said and turned back toward Tineka. “I still can’t believe someone’s moved in there. They’d have to gut the whole building!”

“All I know,” she said, slurring a bit, “is that someone’s been coming and going, and sometimes there’s a car parked there.”

“What? Have you been staking it out? Says who?”

“People!” she shouted, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Then her face lit up dangerously. “I know! We should go out there right now so I can prove it to you!”

You shook your head. “I walked here from my parents’ house, and I,” you placed both hands on the table to steady yourself, “definitely can’t drive.”

“Robbie can!” You could tell, now that Tineka had the idea in her head, she wasn’t going to let it go. “Right? Please, Robbie!” she whined.

Robbie, who’d switched to water after his second beer, who knows how long ago, looked to David, who shrugged, and then to you. All you could do was grin at him and nod. You hadn’t done something stupid like this in such a long time. The feeling was a little thrilling.

“This is such a bad idea,” Robbie said. “It’s so dark out. You won’t be able to see anything anyway.” He looked around the table again and then slumped in defeat. “Fine,” he gritted. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be out there too long.”

Robbie pulled up to the entrance of the lane leading up to the old Thrombey house and parked the car. Tineka leaned forward from her place in the back seat and lightly slapped your arm. “Alright!” she said, “this is where you get out! Good luck.”

“Wait,” you turned to face her, “I’m going on my own?”

“Yup! That’s how dares work.”

“When did this become a dare?” you asked, starting to get an uneasy feeling in your gut. “What if I get shot for trespassing?!”

“I thought no one could possibly live there,” she taunted.

You tried to look to David for help, but he’d fallen asleep next to his wife. Robbie just gave you a shrug. “Fine,” you said, somewhat angrily. “But if I’m not back in 10 minutes, you better come find my body.” You got out of the car, slammed the door closed, and started your walk down the path.

The lane was surrounded by dense trees, and it wasn’t long before you couldn’t see the car behind you. The wind had picked up, blowing leaves in front of you, and you wrapped your cardigan around you as tightly as you could. A few minutes later, the house appeared before you.

The outside had remained mostly intact, but you knew that it was basically a husk now. Still, it was large and foreboding. Most of the glass in the windows was cracked, and ivy had overtaken much of the siding. As you got closer, you could see that there was, in fact, a vintage beamer tucked against the side of the house. Damn it, Tineka was right. You were about to admit your defeat and go back to your friends when the front door opened. You froze as a man carefully walked out onto the decaying porch.

You could have sworn that a moonbeam suddenly appeared where there wasn’t one before to light him directly. He was dressed in a sweater and slacks underneath a long camel overcoat with a colorful scarf. He looked right at you even though you were sure that the area you were in was too dark to be spotted. “This is private property. You’re trespassing,” he said. Something about his deep voice and insistent stare had you pinned to your spot.

“Um,” you said, trying to look away, but there was something about him that had you transfixed. “Uh, sorry, I just– um, I didn’t think anyone lived here. How– how do you live here?”

He didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow at you. Everything had gone completely quiet. In the moonlight, his skin glowed, looked so pale it was almost translucent, and you felt completely hypnotized. He might have been the most beautiful person you’d ever seen.

“Sorry,” you said again, or maybe just breathed it. “We were just– we were drunk and–” You didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Why were you here?

He looked you up and down. “Hmm,” he hummed. “Not tonight then.”

“What?” you asked, even though you were pretty sure he was talking to himself more than to you.

“Not tonight,” he repeated, grinning a little meanly. “I don’t have much of a taste for cheap booze.”

What a strange thing to say. It’s not like you were inviting him for a drink. What did he mean?

His focus shifted to somewhere behind you, and it was like you suddenly found yourself back on earth. The sounds of the forest filtered back in, and you didn’t feel held in place anymore. As you tried to adjust to the sudden onslaught of your senses, you slowly processed that you could hear Tineka calling for you, and the sounds of Robbie’s car quickly approaching.

“Better run, little rabbit,” the man said. “You don’t want to keep them waiting.”

You turned around to see the car pull up, and Tineka hopped out without waiting for it to stop fully. “Holy shit, you scared the shit out of us! You didn’t come back! This was so dumb, I’m so sorry.”

You turned back to the house, to say what, you weren’t sure. But the man was gone. Maybe he’d never even been there? Maybe you were even drunker than you thought. “I’m not sure what happened,” you said, in a daze, as you let Tineka and Robbie herd you back into the car.

You were awoken the next morning by a knock on your bedroom door. Your mom let herself in without waiting for a response. She was carrying a large vase filled with roses so deep red, they were practically black.

“What are those?” you mumbled, barely awake.

“How am I supposed to know?” she asked as she placed them on your dresser. “Someone left them for you.”

“Wha?” It was too early for this. You rolled over to look at the digital clock on the bedside table. Oh. It was 11 AM. Fuck. You didn’t think you’d had that much to drink the night before, but you felt incredibly hungover. This was drinking in your thirties, you guessed. “Is there a card?” You finally mustered the awareness to say.

“Not that I saw.”

“Then how do you know they’re for me?”

She looked around theatrically. “Who else could they be for? Your father?”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks for bringing them in, Mom. I’ll be down in a bit.”

She nodded and left.

You got up and examined the bouquet. They were beautiful, but… dark. There was something about them that made you feel a little unsettled. The vase looked old. Vintage. Expensive. No card. No sign of where they came from.

You opened your phone and pulled up the contact you’d made for Robbie the night before. You wrote out the text and hit send before you could think better of it.

Hey, weird question. And please know that I’m embarrassed to even ask it, especially if you say no, but. Did you send me flowers?

His response was immediate.

Nope, not me. Aren’t you popular

You cringed and tossed the phone on the bed to create some distance. You hadn’t even been back 24 hours yet. Who could they possibly be from?

Late that night, you were wandering through the grocery store aisles, making your way towards the freezer section. Your mom didn’t keep snacks in the house, and you’d had a sudden craving for ice cream. Just as you were coming up on your prey, someone stepped right in front of you and turned around to face you.

“Well, if it isn’t the little trespasser,” the man from the Thrombey house said. It was startling to see him in the middle of the grocery store. He seemed so out of place, wearing his same overcoat and scarf, which from this distance you could now see was silk. Everything about him seemed expensive, even his smirk, and here you were in yoga pants and a too-large sweatshirt. How did he even recognize you? It’d been so dark that night.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, somewhat bashfully, “sorry again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, with a cold smirk that you were starting to think was just the permanent state of his face. “I kind of liked the novelty of it. It’s not very often that your kind comes right to me, instead of the other way around.”

What the fuck did that mean? Did he mean not wealthy people? Well, you weren’t the one living in a house that was about to fall down. This man was so strange. “Well, anyway,” you said, “I’ll let you get back to your evening.” You tried to step around him to get to the ice cream case, but he followed you there.

“What’s your poison?” he asked. You grabbed a carton of Moose Tracks and showed him, before trying to walk away again.

He kept pace with you. “What’s your name?” he asked. He stepped in front of you again and looked you right in the eye. “C’mon, tell me your name.”

It fell past your lips without you ever making the conscious decision to tell him. He smiled. All of his smiles were a little mean. “You can call me Ransom,” he said.

You’d arrived at the self-checkout. You were so ready to get out of there. “Well, okay, Ransom. It was nice meeting you, but I’m gonna check out now. And let you get back to your shopping.” You noticed for the first time that he didn’t have a cart or basket with him. And he wasn’t holding any items in his hands. He could have just gotten there, not started shopping yet, but something in your gut told you it wasn’t right.

He paused at the opening of the aisle opposite you. “Yeah, I think I’ve found what I was looking for,” he winked, and then turned around and finally walked away.

You tried to suppress the shiver that coursed through you. There was something not right about him. It didn’t matter. He was gone. You paid for your ice cream and walked out the automatic doors–

You were sitting in your car. Something niggled at your brain. You couldn’t remember the walk through the parking lot. That was strange, but you were probably just on autopilot. Plus, you were tired. Exhausted, really. You hadn’t realized just how exhausted you were. There was a twinge in your neck. You tried to stretch it out but the skin pulled a little painfully. You looked at the clock. It was later than you realized. You needed to get home, eat this ice cream, and go to bed.

That night, you dreamt of a river of blood and you were drowning in it. You woke up choking on nothing.

In the morning, you still felt tired, but you could hear your parents moving around downstairs, so you got up and got dressed. You put on a T-shirt and jeans, a cardigan, and then found an old scarf that you looped around your neck a few times.

When you got downstairs, your mom was scrambling eggs at the stove, while your dad read the paper at the kitchen table. He smiled and wished you a good morning, then nodded at your chest. “Is that your passive-aggressive way of telling me to turn the heat up?” He laughed at himself.

“Huh?” you asked and looked down. Oh. The scarf. Was it odd? Now that you thought about it, you weren’t even sure why you’d put it on. It had just felt… important. You didn’t know why. But you also couldn’t take it off. You curled in on yourself, a bit defensively. “I just liked it with this outfit.”

Your mom came over to the table. “Leave her alone, you,” she said to your dad as she set a plate of breakfast in front of each of you. “I think it looks nice, honey,” she said to you as she sat down with her own plate. “Although, maybe a little warm. It’s cooling down, but it’s not winter yet.”

You fingered the fringe of the scarf self-consciously. “I just like it,” you said, quietly. It was just a scarf. You didn’t know why everyone cared so much.

Your dad was the one to finally change the subject. He shook out his paper as he asked you, “Didn't you go to school with Shannon McCready?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said around a bite of eggs, “She was a real bitch. What? She get arrested or something?”

Your mom grumbled unhappily next to you about your language, but you barely even noticed because the next thing your dad said was “No, she died a few days ago.”

You couldn’t say what or why, but something inside of you reacted to that. A frisson of fear crawled up your spine. "What?"

"Mhmm, the obituary doesn't say exactly, but it seems like it was sudden."

"Does it say how?"

He shrugs, "Just says natural causes."

"Natural causes? She was thirty-two!"

He shrugged again and went back to his paper. Your mom blithely ate her breakfast beside you. You couldn't explain why you were so unnerved by this, but something deep inside of you was screaming that it wasn't right. You took a deep breath and tried to ignore it. You barely even knew her. You needed to get logged into work. Focus on something else.

The workday was long and hard. Your exhaustion only built as the day went on and your mind was all over the place. But you finally made it to the end and triumphantly logged off.

You met Tineka for dinner, just the two of you, at a little place right off Main Street. After you’d gotten settled and your drinks had arrived, she’d looked at you carefully. “I didn’t want to bring it up the other night with David and Robbie there, but how are you doing with everything? Really?”

You sighed. “Uh,” you said, “better than I thought I’d be? I mean, everything feels kind of strange, because I was living this whole life, and I just don’t really have any of it anymore? I mean, I was living in Boston with Andy. We had an apartment, a community. We were gonna get married. And now none of those things are true anymore. None of that is mine. That’s strange. But, maybe not bad. I’m realizing that I was kind of unhappy there. More than kind of. But I couldn’t see it until I was outside of it. And, like, moving back in with my parents, it isn’t ideal, but it doesn’t feel bad right now. If feels OK. If that makes sense.”

Tineka nodded. “I think that makes a lot of sense. And for what it’s worth, Andy was a piece of shit and I’m glad you’re rid of him.” She reached forward, cocktail in hand, to clink your glasses together. All you could do was smile. You really had missed her.

Your seat faced the window, and as you chatted, you watched the sun set over the colorful trees outside. It really was pretty here. This wasn’t a bad place to spend the season.

As you were finishing your entrees, you frowned when you saw Ransom walk in. He noticed you too, and, waving the hostess away, made a beeline for your table.

“We just keep running into each other,” he said, once he got to you, that perma-smirk firmly in place.

"It's a small town," you said, nervously. You couldn't explain why this man triggered your fight-or-flight instincts so terribly. You were being ridiculous. He hadn’t done anything. “Oh, uh, sorry. Ransom, this is my friend Tineka. Tineka, Ransom.”

Tineka looked between the two of you, open curiosity on her face. “How do you know each other?” she asked.

“New friends,” Ransom supplied. “We just can’t help bumping into each other.”

He didn’t seem to want to talk about where you’d met. That was his business, so you just nodded along.

He stood there for a moment, in a way that was too confident to be awkward, but still had you feeling a little uncomfortable. Tineka, bless her, had the social skills you just couldn’t pull together at that moment. “It’s packed tonight,” she said. “You’re welcome to sit down with us, although we’re probably leaving soon,” she gestured to your nearly empty plates.

“Thank you,” he said, “I think I’ll take you up on that.” He winked at you as he took the empty chair next to you. Something about it, about him, made you have to look away, focusing on your plate.

“So,” Tineka started, and oh no, that was her casual interrogation tone, “are you from around here? This town is small enough that I’m always surprised when I don’t already know someone.”

Ransom chuckled. “Sort of. I used to have family here, but I haven’t been back in ages. Just in town to collect some things and then I’ll probably be on my way again.”

You could feel him looking at you. His attention was always so much.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Tineka said, giving you a sideways glance you knew meant trouble. “We’re only just getting to know you.”

He laughed. “Well, I’ll admit, I’ve found more here than I expected.” He stretched his arm out and briefly rested it against your chair back. His fingers brushed you between your shoulder blades and you couldn’t help the way you shivered. He dropped his arm back into his lap. When you turned to him, he was looking at Tineka, but you could feel his attention still on you.

“You said your family’s no longer in the area?” Tineka kept probing.

“No, they all passed a while ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Don’t be,” he said. “It was no great loss, trust me.” There was a darkness in his eyes when he said that that had you swallowing nervously.

“I guess it’s the season for homecomings,” Tineka said, then pointed at you, “she just moved back too.”

He grinned knowingly at you. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” she said, pointedly. “Recovering from a shitty ex.”

“Tineka!” you hissed, but all she did was laugh.

“Well,” he said, working his jaw, and you would swear it almost came out as a growl, “I bet he’ll live to regret that.” You couldn’t explain it, but at that moment, it felt like a threat. Which didn’t make any sense. He didn’t know Andy. He barely knew you. But the most disturbing thing was the little thrill that rushed through you at the thought.

While you were having your mini-crisis, he stood up abruptly. “You know,” he said, “it really is busy in here. I’m probably better off getting dinner somewhere else. And I’ve intruded on girls’ night enough.” He then looked right at you and said, “I’ll be seeing you.” That, too, felt like a threat.

As he left, Tineka looked at you excitedly. “He’s hot!” she said, too loudly considering he hadn’t actually exited the restaurant yet. You hissed at her, but she batted it away. “And he’s clearly into you. Seems like the perfect opportunity to fuck Andy out of your system.”

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed and looked to the front to make sure he’d left. “You don’t think there’s something kind of unsettling about him?”

“What do you mean?”

You paused to figure out how to put it into words. “I don’t know, sometimes, just the way he looks at me, I get this chill down my spine.”

She laughed, delightedly. “Yeah, that’s called ‘he wants to fuck you!’ Seriously, this is good. Great, even!”

“I don’t know,” you said. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on that you just didn’t understand.

She sobered and looked at you seriously. “Listen, you deserve this. After all that shit Andy put you through – the women. It’s time for you to get yours. I don’t care if it’s Ransom, or Robbie, or whoever, but you deserve this.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s definitely not going to be Robbie.” You couldn’t even imagine that.

“Ok, fine!” she said, throwing her hands up. “Then it should be Ransom!”

You laughed. “Ok, Tineka. Sure.”

A little while later, you left the restaurant together. On the sidewalk, Tineka asked, “Did you walk here?” You nodded. “Do you want a ride home?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not far. I’m good.”

“Are you sure? It’s just so dark.”

“Unless this town really changed while I was gone, I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine. Thanks, but I want to walk.”

“Ok,” she said, but she seemed hesitant.

You rolled your eyes and she backed down. “Hey,” you said, pulling her into a hug. “This was really fun. I love you.”

“Love you too,” she said and pulled away, starting to head back to her car. “Think about what I said about Ransom!” she threw over her shoulder.

You laughed and started walking in the opposite direction, back to your parents' house.

A few blocks later, when you were off the main street, you stopped when you heard a noise behind you–

You were half a block further down now. You looked around, confused. What just happened? How– The pain in your neck was back. It was on the other side now, and worse. You were so tired. A little dizzy. You walked as quickly as you could the rest of the way home.

You dreamt again that night. In this one, you sat in the middle of a large field. The sun shone down on you but you were sobbing uncontrollably. Your tears were made of blood.

You slept through your alarm the next morning, only waking when your mom came in and shook you. You were exhausted still, even though you’d slept a solid nine hours. Maybe you were coming down with something. Even though you had no other symptoms.

You went through your dresser three times until you found your one turtleneck. It seemed important.

Work felt impossible. Your focus was non-existent. You just wanted to lie down.

Late that afternoon, when Robbie texted to see if you wanted to grab a coffee, you logged out early. You weren’t going to get anything else done anyway. Caffeine sounded helpful.

When you met outside the coffee shop, he asked, “Is coffee still ok? I know it’s getting kind of late in the day. We could do beer instead.”

You shook your head. “No, coffee’s good. I’m trying to cut down on how much I drink.” You stopped. You were? When did you decide that? Why? You shoved down the not-right feeling that was crawling up your throat. It was fine. It was good. Healthy. It was fine.

Robbie raised his eyebrows when you ordered a triple espresso, but didn’t say anything. It helped some, but you still felt sluggish. And you struggled to focus on the conversation.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked after about half an hour.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said, trying to shake your head clear. “I’ve just been a little off the past few days. Probably just everything that’s happened catching up with me.”

He nodded. “I heard about all that. I’m so sorry. I’m here to listen if you ever need it.”

You gave him a genuine smile. “I’m fine, really,” you said, “but I appreciate it.”

A few minutes later, as you were trying to decide if you’d been there long enough to politely make your excuses and go home, he said, “Oh, do you remember Alex Higgins?”

“Uh, I don’t think so?” The name didn’t ring a bell, but you weren’t sure if that was because you didn’t know them or whatever was going on with you.

“He was a few years ahead of us? Friends with my brother?”

You shrugged and shook your head.

“Well, this won’t mean much to you, then,” he said, “but he died a few days ago.”

Not right not right not right, your gut said. “How… how did he die?” you asked, terrified of the answer without knowing why.

“They don’t know yet. They haven’t been able to find anything wrong with him. They just found him collapsed outside, I guess.”

You white-knuckled it through the rest of your coffee.

Afterward, you lost over half of your walk home. When you arrived, there was another bouquet of almost black roses on your front porch.

Things began to disintegrate quickly from there.

Over the next week, you kept losing time. Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, sometimes even more. Once you started paying attention, you realized it was only after the sun went down. But knowing that didn’t seem to help.

There were more nightmares too. There was the one where you were being chased through the woods by something unseen, under a blood-red moon and the trees came alive to trap you. Or the one where you were back at the Thrombey house and it was on fire. The skies opened up, but instead of rain, the clouds poured down blood. The strangest one had Ransom in it. Blood flowed from his mouth as he choked you with his scarf. They all started to blend together after that. Blood. Pain. Terror.

Even with the nightmares, you slept like the dead. But that didn’t stop you from waking up exhausted every morning. You called in sick to work multiple days. You stopped seeing Tineka or Robbie. What would have been the point? You couldn’t concentrate on anything. You could barely stay awake. And every time you went for a walk in the evening, to try to get some exercise and clear your head, you lost time. Something was very wrong and you didn’t know what to do.

The one person you did see was Ransom. He often seemed to be out and about at the same time you were. The fear you felt for him was still there, but you couldn’t deny that you were drawn to him, too. When he was near. you could feel the chaos that had taken you over the last week finally quiet down. You still lost time with him, but it didn't seem to matter as much. Nothing seemed to matter as much when you were with him. Even if you still felt the instinctual urge to turn around and run away whenever you saw him.

Compounding your troubles, the roses just kept coming. Every few days, another bouquet appeared on your porch. You still had no idea who was sending them. It had occurred to you that maybe it was Andy, trying to fuck with you. As much as you hated him now, that just didn’t seem like him. But you couldn’t think of anyone else who would do it either. You barely even knew anyone in town anymore.

For a reason you couldn’t articulate, you didn’t say anything about any of this to your parents. You couldn’t hide it from them though. They may not have known exactly what was going on, but they knew there was something. You overheard them one night as you came down the stairs to get a glass of water, their low tones coming from the living room.

“She is not okay,” your dad was saying, “and we need to stop acting like she is.”

“She’s been through a lot,” your mom said. “If she wants space–”

“Look at her!” your dad said, trying to keep his voice quiet, but the emotion still came through. “The time for space is over. I think we need to start talking about professional help.”

As quietly as you could, you ran back up the stairs. You weren’t that thirsty.

You spent the next two days in bed. When your mom came in to check on you, you told her you had the flu.

On the third day, you woke up feeling clear-headed for the first time in ages. You were rested. You hadn’t had any nightmares. The fog seemed to have cleared from your brain. When you bounced downstairs and greeted your parents, the relief on their faces made you want to cry. Your work day was the most productive you’d had since you’d arrived at your parents’ house. You finally felt like things were going to be ok.

That night after dinner, you decided to celebrate your good mood with snacks. You got in your car and started driving to the grocery store.

When you parked, you looked up. You weren’t at the grocery store. You were in front of the Thrombey house. You burst into tears. No no no. How had you gotten here? Why was this happening to you? As you were about to put the car in reverse and go back home, the front door opened and Ransom came out. So instead, you got out of the car.

“Trespassing again?” he asked, that smirk always on his lips. Like there was a joke that only he knew about.

“I’m sorry,” you cried. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know what’s happening!”

He came down off the porch and walked over to you. He gently brushed a tear off your cheek and looked you in the eye. “Poor little rabb–

You were sitting in your car, parked in front of your parents’ house. The sun was coming up. How? The last thing you remembered, it was evening. It’d been hours. So many hours. The entire night. You let out a frustrated, guttural cry. You checked your phone, certain there must be so many panicked calls and texts from your parents, but there was nothing. Looking further, you found a text from yourself to your mom, telling her that you were spending the night with Tineka. Had you? Was that where you’d been? You thought about calling Tineka to check but one of two things would happen. She’d be confused as to why you couldn’t remember that you’d just left her house. Or, she’d tell you that she hadn’t seen you in days. Both options seemed equally awful and impossible to deal with. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, and looked up at the front door. In front of it, was an ornate, vintage vase, filled with roses, so deep red they were practically black. No. Absolutely not. You started your car again and pulled back out onto the road in a flurry. This was one mystery you might actually be able to solve and you were going to do it.

The only dedicated floral shop in town didn’t open for another two hours. That was fine. You could wait. You sat in your car as long as you could stand it, and then when you grew too antsy to bear, you got out and paced in front of the storefront.

As soon as the door was unlocked, you were inside the shop, frantically looking through all of the roses.

“Can I help you?” an employee cautiously asked from behind you.

You spun around. “I’m looking for black roses.”

“Oh, uh, so, roses don’t actually come in true black. The closest is a really dark red that looks almo–”

“Yes, I know that!” You interrupted. “That’s what I’m looking for!”

“Well,” they said, a professional curtness in their tone now, “we don’t carry them. You’d have to do a special order.”

That was actually good news. It’d narrow down possibilities considerably. “Can you tell me who’s been ordering them?”

They looked confused. “Like, ever?”

“No! Just in the past two weeks!”

They took a step back. “We haven’t had anyone order them recently.”

You shook your head wildly, desperation taking over. “No, that’s not true! You’ve been delivering them to my house! I just want to know who’s sending them.”

Another employee came out from the back and eyed you carefully.

“Please,” you said, sounding pathetic even to your own ears. “You have to tell me who it is. I have to know.”

“We haven’t had any orders like that,” the first employee said firmly.

“No!” you shouted. “Please just tell me. You have to tell me!”

“Ma’am,” the second employee finally spoke up. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

You stopped and looked around yourself. Another customer had come in. They stood by the door and stared at you. Everyone stared at you.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The first employee looked deeply uncomfortable, but the second just folded their arms and gave you a hard look.

“You’re sure?” you asked. “You really haven’t had any special orders?” You felt a few tears fall down your cheeks.

“Ma’am, if you don’t leave, we’ll have to call the cops.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You left as quickly as you could, trying not to look anyone in the eye.

Once outside and away from the floral shop, you found a bench and sunk down on it, trying to pull yourself together. What was happening? What was wrong with you?

You heard someone across the street call your name and you looked up to see Robbie rushing toward you. He dodged a few cars and then stepped up onto the sidewalk. “What’s wrong? Are you ok?” You started sobbing at that, unable to hold anything in any longer. He sat down on the bench next to you and tentatively put his hand on your back. He said your name again, softly. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “I think I’m losing my mind,” you choked out. “I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He was rubbing gentle circles now. “Tell me what’s happening. Maybe I can help.”

So you did. You told him about losing time and saying things you didn’t understand, being so tired all the time you could barely get out of bed, the nightmares. He listened quietly to everything and when you were done he just nodded for a moment, then said, “First thing, I think, is that you need to see a doctor.”

You shook your head. “No, I can’t.”

“Listen, I know it’s scary, but I don’t think this is going to go away on its own. This could be a brain tumor or something. You really need to get it checked out.”

“You’re not listening to me,” you growled out, surprised by how upset you were, and how quickly your mood had changed. “I can’t.”

“Ok,” he said, putting his hands up in front of him. “I’m sorry. I’m listening. Why can’t you?”

“I just can’t!” you said, standing up. You were jittery. You needed to move.

Robbie reached out a hand, and quietly said your name again, clearly trying to calm you down.

You couldn’t stop shaking your head. “I just can’t, okay? I just can’t. I can’t. I’m not allowed!”

You both froze. “What–” Robbie stopped then tried again, shock clear on his face. “What do you mean you’re not allowed?”

You didn’t know, exactly. You just knew it was true. No doctors. Absolutely not. “I have to go,” you said and turned abruptly to race back to where you’d parked your car. Robbie called after you the whole way.

Your phone buzzed at you the whole drive home. Robbie. He wouldn’t stop. It continued all day. He was worried about you, his texts and voicemails told you. What you said had really freaked him out. Was someone hurting you? He just wanted to help. You hid in your bedroom and buried your phone in your laundry hamper. You could still hear it buzzing away, but it made it easier to pretend that you couldn’t. Finally, sometime after dark, it stopped.

It started ringing again in the morning, just as insistent as before. You dug it out of your dirty clothes, ready to tell Robbie to just forget what happened and leave you alone when you saw that it was Tineka, and she was calling for the third time.

When you answered, at first you just heard her crying. “Tineka?” you asked. “Are you there? What’s going on?”

“Robbie,” she sobbed, and for a moment you thought maybe he’d talked to her, told her who knows what, but then she continued. “Oh god, Robbie. Robbie’s dead.”

A chill whipped through your entire body. “What?” you breathed. Just yesterday– No. Your mind went to all the people you’d heard about since you’d gotten here. The vague reasons, the shrugs given as cause of death. A pattern you’d refused to see until this moment. You had to know if he was part of it. “Tineka, how did he die?”

“Oh god,” she sobbed, “It’s so awful. I can’t– His throat. It was ripped out.”

You felt time stop. Distantly, you could hear Tineka still talking. Going on about animal attacks, coyotes and bobcats, maybe something escaped from a sanctuary or private owner. You couldn’t explain it, you didn’t know why – you obviously didn’t know anything – but you knew deep down in your being that this was because of you. Something was happening.

Without saying anything, you ended the call and left your phone on your bed. You didn’t get dressed, still in the leggings and oversized t-shirt you always slept in. You moved through the house as quickly and quietly as you could, not bothering to stop to look for your parents. The only things you grabbed on your way out were your coat and your car keys.

As you started driving away, you didn't really have a destination in mind, but once you were about halfway there, you realized that you did in fact know where you were going now. Of course, you did. There was only one place to go. One person to see.

As you pulled up in front of the Thrombey house, it struck you that you’d never seen it in daylight before. The way the sun shone down on it almost made it more eerie. It should not be here, in this daylight world. It was a relic of the night. You shook your head at yourself. Your thoughts had become so strange lately.

You waited in your car. He always heard you and came out, but this time, nothing. You looked to the little driveway at the side. The beamer was there. So where was Ransom? After several minutes of waiting, you got out. You went up to the house, ready to pound on the door until he came out, but stopped at the porch. You could clearly see now how the wood was rotting, the holes that were already there. You couldn’t risk taking a single step onto it. You didn’t know how he came in and out this way.

You looked around, there must be another way in, maybe on the side of the house. As you walked around the corner, you came up short. Lining this side of the house, hidden from the front, was a beautiful, neat row of rose bushes, in such a deep red they were practically black. No. No no no. It couldn’t be. But of course, it was. You were so stupid. So blind. You fell to your knees beside them. It had all started here, at this house. You could clearly see that now, finally. Whatever end came, that would be here too, so you laid down, and you waited. There was nothing else to do.

You didn’t know how much time had passed. You were pretty sure you’d dozed in and out. But at some point, the sun had gone down. Once it was fully hidden beneath the horizon, you heard the front door open and footsteps come around the side of the house.

Ransom crouched down next to your head, his hand gently brushing the hair out of your face. “So you know now,” he said.

It wasn’t a question, but you still shook your head. “No,” you said. “I don’t know anything. I don’t understand.”

He nodded and stood up. You sat up, almost like there was a string in your chest, connected to his. “You know,” he said, looking up at the house. “Ransom is my middle name. I’ve always gone by it, but when they reported on everything that happened here, they used my first name, so that’s the one everyone remembers.”

Of course. “Hugh,” you breathed. “You’re Hugh Drysdale.” You were as sure of it as you’d ever been of anything. Nothing made sense. Everything made sense. He nodded, pleased. “How?” you asked. Hugh had been roughly your age when the fire had happened and he’d disappeared. Almost 50 years ago. The man standing in front of you didn’t look a day over 35.

He crouched down again, so that he was level with you, so that you could clearly see his face in the moonlight. So that you had a perfect view of the fangs that dropped down.

You gasped, wanting to scoot away on your hands, but you stayed pinned in your spot. “No, that’s not– You can’t–” You took a deep breath and gave yourself the courage to say the word. “Vampires aren’t real.”

He threw his head back and laughed. It was wild and loud and cruel. “Come on now,” he said, “I know you aren’t that stupid, sweetheart.”

As you tried to process this, you realized it didn’t actually matter how any of this could be real. There was only one question you actually needed an answer to. “Why did you do this to me?”

He grinned at you, mean as ever. “Because you came right to me, little rabbit. How could I resist an offering like that?” Tears started to run down your face, and he cooed at you, collecting a few with his finger. “I’ll admit, at first, I’d just planned to drain you, leave your body beside the grocery store for some teenage employee to find the next day.” He smiled at the thought. “But that first taste. You have no idea how good you taste, baby. It couldn’t just be a one-and-done. It was as easy as anything to put you under a little thrall. Compel you to forget when I fed on you, make sure you didn’t let anyone else know. The plan was to snack on you while I was here, and once I had everything I needed, I’d bring you with me, keep you as a little pet blood bag until I was bored and done with you. And torturing you was so fun. It made having to be here so much more bearable. But as I broke you down, brought you to your weakest, it made me realize that I’m desperate to see you at your strongest. See you surging with power.”

There was something in his words, in his eyes, that filled you with panic. But also something else. Want, you were terrified to admit. “What does that mean?” you whispered.

“It means you’re mine, baby, and I’m going to keep you. Claim you. Forever.”

It was the last word you fixated on. That was the word that meant everything. That really said what he meant. You took a deep breath, trying to get the crying under control. “And if I let you do that, this will all stop? I’ll be ok again?”

He chuckled. “Sure, honey. If you ‘let’ me do it, it’ll all stop. You’ll get your mind back. The thrall will lift.”

“And if I don’t?”

He tilted his head to the side. “If you don’t, you’ll still be mine. I’ll just make it hurt. Your friend Tineka sure has a pretty neck. Maybe I’ll rip it out, just like I did to your other little friend. Or your parents. Blood is kind of like wine, you know, gets better with age.”

“No, no, please,” you begged.

“Then give yourself to me, right now.” He leaned forward into your space and you fought the dual urges to pull away and to close the distance completely.

You took a deep breath and blinked the tears away. Your torment would stop. Things would be better. Your family would be safe. “Okay,” you whispered, “please. Please, Ransom.”

Without further ado, he pulled you into a bruising kiss, both hands tightly gripping your face, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. He gave you no choice but to sink into it, his fangs still dropped, occasionally nipping into your lips. When he pulled away, you were left gasping for breath.

You had no time to recover before he was pushing back on your shoulders and then slipping his hands under your knees to tip you onto your back. You held yourself up, as much as you could, on your forearms, unable to look away from him. Mesmerized by him, as always. He pulled on your leggings until they ripped in two and tossed them away. He crawled between your knees and then did the same to your panties. You cried out at the sting of the elastic breaking. He smoothed a hand over you, fingers moving through the thatch of soft curls, and growled “Just perfect.” Then he lowered his face to your cunt and slowly dragged his tongue along the length of it. You finally gave in and let your upper body fall back, tossing your head to the side, your hands grasping for purchase in the dry grass beneath you, as he worked you over with his mouth. Little mewls escaped you, beyond your control. You wanted to deny how good it felt; he was a literal monster. He had killed countless people. His own family, in this exact spot where he now defiled you. But you couldn’t think about that right now. You couldn’t think about anything other than his mouth on you, the rising heat in your core, the grass under your hands, the twigs poking into your back. The one thing outside of this exact moment that your brain briefly flashed to was Andy. How he had never felt like this. Never given you this. In his own way, he too, had wanted to drain you dry and then he’d left you with nothing to show for it. His promise of forever had turned out to be empty. With Ransom, you knew that word meant something different. Meant something more. Something real.

Your mewls had turned into soft little chants of “Please,” and “Ransom,” over and over. As you reached your peak and were just about to go over it, he removed his mouth from you. You cried out in frustration and lifted your head just in time to see him turn his and sink his teeth into your thigh. You screamed at the pain. The way it mingled with the intense pleasure you were already experiencing, along with the constant fear you’d been in for the past weeks had you hurtling over the edge. You came harder than you ever had before, your body spasming through it, tears rushing down your face, wetness pooling between your legs. Ransom drank from you all through your orgasm and the aftershocks. As you were finally coming down, he released your thigh, quickly licking up the blood that had dripped down your leg. He reached up to your face and grabbed your chin, forcing eye contact as he viciously bit into his own wrist. He brought his other hand to the back of your head, grasping it firmly, and then pushed his bloody wrist into your mouth. You flailed, instinctively trying to get away, but his hard grip wouldn’t let you move. You choked as his blood filled your mouth. Your eyes were wide, hands wildly trying to release his hold on you.

“Just drink,” his voice filled your consciousness. “Drink. Take it all, sweetheart.” At some point, your body gave in, no longer struggling, trying to dislodge him. You took what he gave you and swallowed. “Good girl,” he cooed as you continued to drink. “Good girl.” You grasped his wrist, latching on with your mouth, suddenly desperate for more. Blackness was gathering at the edges of your vision. It started gradually and then quickly overtook you. The last thing you heard before you slipped into the darkness was Ransom’s chuckle.

You gasped for breath as you rocketed up to a sitting position. You could hear everything. The birds on the roof of the house. The wind moving in the trees. The ants in the ground beneath you. You could feel everything. The hair on your arms, standing straight up. The grass growing in the ground. The electricity in the air. The one thing you couldn’t feel was your blood flowing through your veins. It was still. You knew it was. But something was pumping through you. Power. You gasped again to feel it. You could do anything now. You were sure of it. You’d been so weak before. But now. Now nothing could beat you. With that power was also the most intense hunger you’d ever felt. You needed something, right now. You needed everything. You needed to feed, you needed to fuck, you needed to drink.

A familiar chuckle interrupted your thoughts. You looked up to see Ransom standing above you. That mean smirk that was always on his face. “Oh little rabbit,” he said, “we are going to have so much fun.”

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briefinquiries · 2 years

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Luke Alvez x Reader: Hostage

Description: request: can you do an imagine where the reader is luke’s wife or girlfriend and she gets involved in a hostage situation at a bank and the bau is called in to help with the situation? thanks, i love your writing so much :)

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: hostage situation, gun violence, minor character death

“This came in just a few minutes ago from the Director,” Prentiss confirms. With the click of a button on the remote, a local news station clip projects onto the screen behind her, illuminating the chaos underway. “There’s a situation downtown that he wants the BAU to take the lead on.”

With bewilderment on his face, a reporter stands in downtown Washington D.C., which was littered with law enforcement and a crowd of people. The headline across the bottom of the screen reads ‘Hostage situation underway at Capital One Bank’.

Luke drops the pen he was holding, drawing attention from other members of the team as it clashes on the table in front of him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. The rest of the team averted their attention back to Prentiss, but Luke’s attention was halted in its tracks. Instinctively, he reaches into his pocket for his phone, quickly checking his messages under the table. He tries to remain calm and rational, but his stomach sinks when he realizes none of the messages were from you.

Luke had been in a rush this morning, per usual. He was running around the house, scrambling for keys, wallet, coffee, his to-go bag, just in case. He only half listened as you told him the list of errands you had to run that morning, while simultaneously scarfing down a buttered bagel. Whole foods, the post office, the bank–

Luke swallows dryly. You were okay, he tells himself. You were okay, you were okay, you were okay. He repeats the mantra in his head as he types out a quick, casual message.

Did you make it to the bank this morning?

Luke forces himself to turn at least some of his attention back to the team, but keeps his phone unlocked and open to your text messages.

“Local officers have invited us in,” Prentiss informs the group, she sets the remote down gently on the round table. “They’ve informed us of at least two armed man inside the bank, no contact or ransom demand has been made as of yet. Garcia is working to gain access to security footage of inside the bank as we speak.”

The sounds of Garcia typing frantically on her laptop can be heard throughout the conference room as she works.

Luke stares back down at his blank screen, waiting for text bubbles to appear, indicating that you were responding– alive and well. But there’s nothing. Luke starts frantically tapping his foot, why weren’t you texting him back?

“Alvez?” Emily’s voice causes Luke’s head to snap up.

Luke is quick to realize that the entire team is looking at him again as he sits anxiously in his seat, his phone still cradled in the palm of his hand.

“Sorry,” he repeats.

This time no one looks away.

“What’s wrong?” Rossi asks, his eyes narrowed in concern.

“I’m uh, I’m sorry.” Luke says for the third time. He tries to explain while his brain races. “My wife… My wife told me she was running errands this morning, that she had to go to the bank–”

The moment of silence feels like an eternity to Luke.

“That’s our bank,” he motioned towards the screen, still playing news clips on the board. “Do you mind if I just give her a quick call?” He asks, holding his phone up.

Prentiss nods. “Of course.”

Luke mumbles a quick ‘thanks’ before jetting out of the conference room. He escapes into the hall before dialing you. Luke can feel his heart beating rapidly inside of his chest as the line waits to connect– but he’s sent straight to voicemail.

Luke tries again. He’s not entirely sure why he expected a different outcome, but again, your cheery voice directing him to leave a message plays. This time he does.

“Hey, it’s me. I just– I really need to hear from you right now.” Luke swallows the lump in his throat, realizing how dry his mouth felt. “Call me back, please. I love you.” He ends the call and turns his phone over in his hand a few times. You were okay, he tells himself again.

“I– uh, couldn’t get ahold of her,” Luke states as he walks back into the conference room. He makes eye contact with Rossi, who’s gazing wearily back at him. “But I’m sure everything’s fine.” Luke says with as much confidence as he can gather. He’s not so sure he believes it himself.

That’s when Luke notices how eerily quiet everyone else is. He glances around the room to see everyone else staring at the screen.

Garcia had managed to tap into the security footage at the bank. Luke scans the image, his eyes immediately landing on the unsub. He was a tall man, dressed in all black, strutting around the frame with a rifle. He’s waving it wildly as he randomly lunges intimidatingly at one of the victims huddled on the floor. There’s no sound to the video, but it looks like he’s shouting at them.

Garcia suddenly lets out a gasp, her mouth falling open in unison. “No,” she whimpers, she tore her eyes away from the image on the screen to look at Luke.

Everything inside of him goes numb when his eyes land on one of the hostages curled up on the ground, her knees tucked tightly into her chest, and her familiar looking hair shielding her face as she hangs her head low. There’s a tense silence in the room as Luke stands motionless near the door. Only his chest moved as he let out choppy, labored breaths.

He could feel eyes on him as the rest of the team came to the same realization he and Garcia just had. You were inside the bank.

“We are gonna get this guy,” Prentiss says hesitantly, like Luke might break just by her words.

Luke just nods slowly. He couldn’t find the words to respond, even if he wanted to.

“She’s going to be okay,” JJ closes the distance between her and him and places a soft, gentle hand on his shoulder.

Luke should say something. He can’t just keep nodding, but all he could think about right now was you, and the way he rushed out of the house in such a hurry this morning. He didn’t even kiss you goodbye– or tell you that he loved you. What if that was the last time he’d ever see you?

“We have to get to the scene,” Prentiss declares somberly. She eyes Luke cautiously, but the clock is ticking.

JJ lifts her hand off Luke’s arm, leaving behind a cold spot that made him shiver. She follows Tara, Matt and Reid out of the conference room.

Rossi, Prentiss, and Garcia remain in the conference room with Luke.

Prentiss clears her throat before speaking. “Luke, you know you can’t come with us on this one.”

His jaw tenses at her order and he finally breaks his silence. “Screw the protocol, Emily, there’s no way I’m staying back here.”

“Luke, I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now,” Rossi says softly. He stands up from his chair and looks at Luke sympathetically.

“Don’t–” Luke whispers. His eyes glisten with unshed tears, but he blinks them back before sighing heavily. “Don’t talk to me like I’m one of the victims’ families.”

Prentiss and Rossi both stare at Luke for a moment, neither one knowing what else to say.

“Emily, please,” Luke sighs, he lets his shoulders fall slightly. “I can’t stay here and do nothing.”

She sighs heavily and she turns to face Rossi, like she’s looking to the more experienced profiler for advice. They exchange a mutual nod before she responds. “Look at me, Luke.” His eyes meet hers. “You have to remain level headed and you have to follow my orders. Or I will take you off the case.”

Luke understands that Prentiss was legally bound to follow protocol. He wishes that rules and regulations could be pushed aside at times like this, but he nods in agreement. He would have to control his emotions in the field.

Emily nods back in affirmation before offering him a sympathetic look. She outstretches her hand and gives his shoulder a firm squeeze. “If it’s personal for one of us, it’s personal for all of us.” She tells him, implying what Luke already knew: that they wouldn’t rest until this was all over.

A variety of emotions flood through Luke’s mind as he rides in the back seat of one of the SUVs to the scene. Luke shared the car with Tara, Matt, and Reid, but didn’t speak to any of them. Instead he stares directly out the tinted window, remaining silent during the entire duration of their trip.

Spencer kept turning his head subtly towards Luke, in an attempt to gauge how he was doing. It was hard for him to see his friend suffering like this. Luke was generally the confident, reassuring one, but today he just looked broken.

The prospect of losing you was all too consuming as he thought about the careless and threatening way the unsub had been waving his rifle around. He thought about how you had been huddled on the ground, curled up and hiding your face against your knees. He thought about how you were probably wondering where Luke was, and why he wasn’t there to protect you.

Luke swallows the lump in his throat and forces himself to blink back tears building pressure up behind his eyes.

How could this be happening?

…

A round of loud pops rang loudly through the air.

“Everybody on the ground!”

Confused by the sudden chaos around you, your eyes quickly shift towards the door. Two men in combat gear stand there, their faces covered by ski masks. It takes you a moment to realize that the things they were holding high above their heads were guns. Your stomach drops.

You crouch to the floor in an instant, hastily trying to gauge the situation. Your view is partially blocked by the bench in the middle of the bank, all you can hear is frightened cries and the sound of heavy boots trudging across the floor. You scoot out from behind the bench so that you could better see what was happening.

Someone is talking with the men, probably a teller, you think. Their voices are angry and harsh.

Suddenly, in the distance, the sound of sirens could be heard. At first, you feel a wave of relief wash over you, thinking that law enforcement would be able to save you all soon enough.

But then, you hear someone curse loudly then a pair of boots stride back to the counter.

“Did you call 911?” One man asks. His voice is eerily calm. You watch as the teller shakes his head, terrified. The man laughs before raising his gun, shoving it near the teller. “Don’t lie to me!” He screams, causing you to jump.

The teller continues to shake his head, sobbing and pleading now. You watch as the robber rips the mask off, displaying his face. He smirks evilly before spinning his rifle around and jabbing it into the teller’s face. You jump in shock as he falls to the floor, groaning in pain.

Someone screams, another person sobs.

Fear floods through your entire body upon realizing that these men weren’t leaving peacefully. Now that their heist had been cut short, they weren’t going down without a fight. The heavy boots came closer and your eyes quickly became clouded with tears.

Your eyes remain fixated on the floor, even after the footsteps stop right in front of you.

“Get up,” the man orders.

You do as you were told, trying your best to steady your shaking hands. Everyone else gets up too, as the other robber circulates the room repeating the same order.

“Congratulations,” the man said menacingly. He lifts his gloved hand to trace the outline of your jaw. Your nostrils flare in response to his touch. “You’ve just been upgraded from background noise to hostages. Thanks to whoever called the cops.”

He motions for people to head towards the back corner of the bank. Once everyone is gathered around in a semicircle, (you counted eleven other hostages) the robbers bark more orders.

“Cell phones, now.”

People hurry to throw their phones towards the middle of the circle. You pull yours out, your heart sinking when you see an unopened message from Luke flash across your screen.

‘Did you make it to the bank?’

You wonder if the BAU had gotten wind about what was happening yet. You clutch your phone tightly before tossing it on the tiled floor with everyone else's.

No one speaks, everyone just watches as the two men circulate around the room. You curl your knees into your chest, hugging them tightly.

“You weren’t supposed to hurt anyone,” you hear the masked man whisper to the other. “You said we’d just take the money and go.”

“There’s cops outside, Diggy, we’re surrounded. The only way we’re getting out of here is a negotiation. Or if we shoot our way out.”

He strokes his beard lightly, another smirk washing over his face. “Now take that off,” he nods towards his partner’s mask. “Don’t matter much anymore if they see your face, does it?”

The man peels off his mask to reveal his young face. His features are furrowed, like he was concerned. “Cops have protocols they have to follow,” he says to the bearded man. “They won’t just barge in here unless you hurt anyone, so cool it. We can figure this out.”

Just then, the phone starts ringing.

The older man answers, “What?” he barked.

You hear muffled voices on the other end of the line.

“Oh yeah?” He said mockingly, “And what can you do for me, SSA David Rossi of the BAU?”

You let out a shaky breath upon hearing the name of your husband’s coworker. The BAU had been invited in– which meant Luke knew. You wonder if he was outside, too.

It makes your chest ache to know there was such a small barrier between you and his safe arms.

“I’ll tell you what I need, I need a way out of here, or else people are going to get hurt.”

You hear Rossi’s muffled voice on the other end of the line again, no doubt using his profiling skills to help defuse the situation. You see the man’s brows slide into a firm line, like he’s thinking hard about something Rossi’s said. But in an instant his face contorts into an angry scowl and he clenches his rifle tighter.

“Get me a way out of here or they die,” he snarls, before hanging up the phone.

The man walks back over to the group of hostages with malice in his eyes. He scans the faces of people before landing on a scared woman, looking to be in her early 30’s. He bends over and wraps his hand around her arm, hoisting her up on her feet.

“No,” she pleads, tears streaming rapidly down her face. “Please, no,” she sobs.

“Shut up,” the man yells, lifting his gun tauntingly, before dragging her from the group.

“What are you doing?” you can’t believe you were speaking, you even startle yourself with your words.

But he doesn’t even turn around– doesn’t even acknowledge that you had protested.

He pulls her towards the end of one of the teller stations and scribbles something down on a piece of paper. The woman stands by, shaking terribly in her shoes. When the man stops writing he hands her the note.

“Take this to the cops,” he orders.

“W-what?”

“Take this to the cops,” he repeats, slower this time.

She nods, her trembling hands accepting the note.

…

“Guys–” Tara says.

The team turns to face where her attention was focused. The front doors of the bank were opening.

Luke hurries to unholster his gun, his shaky hands gripping the handle as he and every other cop in the area draws their weapons.

Confusion washes over him as a woman exits the bank, her hands above her head.

“Please,” she sobs.

SWAT rushes over to escort the woman to safety.

“He told me to give you this,” she cries, handing a note over to the SWAT member.

Prentiss rushes over to take the note, reading aloud the demands.

“Two million dollars and an escape plan. Every 30 minutes you keep me waiting, someone will die.”

The knot in Luke’s stomach tightens.

…

“Tick tock,” the bearded robber states as he struts around the interior of the bank. The younger man had been quietly sitting on the bench, staring at his shoes for the last few minutes or so.

The robber picks up the phone, dialing the number that had previously reached out.

“Is this Rossi?” he snarls into the line. “It’s almost been thirty minutes.”

You watch as the robber converses with Rossi. You’re wondering what he’s saying.

“You just got someone killed.” He hangs the phone up harshly before taking a deep breath, staring at the clock on the wall.

“And thirty.” The robber made his way back over to the hostages. He doesn’t hesitate before pulling up the older man who had been praying silently next to you.

“No!” you cry, trying to grab his hand to pull him back, but the robber just yanks him harder.

The man is dragged across the floor, but he’s still visible to you. He’s slammed down on the floor on his knees, facing away from the robbers. Your eyes widen as the man brings the rifle up, only inches from the elderly man’s head. You know you should look away, but you can’t bring yourself to do it, especially when he turns his head and locks eyes with you.

You are the last thing he sees before the robber pulls the trigger.

You’re too terrified to scream, or cry, or do much of anything. You just stare in shock as the man collapses into a pool of his own blood.

“That’s what happens when these cops don’t listen to me!” He rants, waving the gun around. He fires a couple of more shots into the ceiling, causing debris to fall. More screams rattle the interior of the bank.

“What are you doing?” The quieter robber stands up fiercely and rushes over to his partner. He looks frantically at the dead body on the floor. “You just killed someone!”

They get in each other's faces. “I’m doing what I have to do to get us out of here!” he screams back. He postures towards the younger boy, intimidating him into backing down. “I’m trying to save us, Diggy.”

“But killing someone, man? I didn’t sign up for that, Kalo.”

“You just gotta trust me, okay?” The older man, you now knew was named Kalo, spoke.

Diggy lowers his head, biting his lip harshly. He shakes his head, still in shock that things had gone so wrong, so fast.

…

“Were those gunshots?” Reid asks, worry evident in his voice.

“Those were gunshots,” JJ confirms, strapping her vest on tightly.

Luke squeezes his eyes shut tightly. “We have to go in there,” he states, trying to remain calm.

Rossi lowers the phone that he had been talking to the unsub on. “He said we just got someone killed.”

“If they’re shooting people, we have to go in–” Luke speaks up again. He’s terrified. What if it was you?

“It wasn’t her,” Matt speaks up. He’s watching the video footage that Luke had been too scared to check. “It looks like an older gentleman.”

Luke lets out a shaky sigh. He feels guilty for being relieved about someone else’s death, but he couldn’t help it. He looks at the clock stationed above the monitor. In another 24 minutes, it could be you.

“What’s our game plan, here?” One of the SWAT members asks.

Emily sighs. “We have to play this smart– these guys are reckless and they’re not going down without a fight. If we barge in there, they’ll just start shooting. Who knows how many hostages could get hit in the crossfire?”

“If we don’t go in there, he’s just going to keep executing them one-by-one.” Matt refutes.

Emily nods. “Someone get me the layout of this building, I need to see the back entrances and side doors. If we go in, I want them surrounded.”

…

You’d never given much thought to how you would die. But sitting here, on the cold tile floor, surrounded by people you didn’t know and two masked assailants, wasn’t something you think you could have ever imagined.

You wonder how Luke was doing– you knew how protective of you he was. You just hope the team has convinced him to keep a level head.

The woman sitting next to you was spinning her wedding band around on her finger rapidly.

“What’s his name?” you ask, motioning towards her ring.

She looks up at you, tears glistening in her eyes. “Julian,” she spoke softly, her lips tugging into a sad smile. “And yours?” she asks.

You touch your finger to your own ring. “Luke.”

You move your hand across the floor and rest it on top of hers. “We’re going to see them again.”

She nods, using her other hand to cover the sob that was escaping her lips.

“These FBI agents just don’t learn, do they?” Kalo snarls as he struts across the floor. “They’re gonna let another one of you die.”

This time, he came straight for you. His firm grasp hauls you up to your feet, and before you had time to protest or fight back, he was dragging you to where he’d shot the last man.

Your breath became choppy and uneven as fear flooded your insides. You were going to die. He was going to kill you.

“Kalo– stop, no one else has to die!” His friend protests. He even reaches out to pull you away from his clutches, but Kalo shakes him off, jolsting you away from the other man.

“Kalo!” he shouts, but his partner ignores him.

Just as you get to the middle of the floor, an array of loud bangs echo through the bank, causing you to jump.

“FBI. Freeze!” A voice yells, before you realize what was happening, Kalo is wrapping his arm around you, and pulling you back against him. The hard barrel of his gun presses against your temple, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’ll shoot her!” Kalo hollers back, his forearm jabs into your throat.

When you finally get your bearings, you’re able to look around the room. You see a few faces you recognize.

The first is Emily. She’s got her gun pointed right at you– or the man holding you, you suppose. Rossi is beside her, he holds his gun up in his hand before holstering it.

“We just want to talk, Kalo,” he says calmly.

Of course they figured out who these guys were, you thought. With Garcia’s tracking abilities, she probably had the men identified within the first five minutes of the robbery.

You also notice JJ and Matt, they were to the side of you. Clearly they’d found a way in through another door. Reid and Tara flank on the opposite side, they made their way around the two of you, ensuring that the robbers were surrounded. You scan and scan for Luke, but he isn’t there. It was probably against some policy. You are glad he was following the rules, but you still wish he was there– you wish you could see his face.

“I’m done talking!” Kalo screams back. His grip tightens and you struggle to breathe. “Go away, or I’ll kill her!”

He was losing control, you can tell. You squeeze your eyes shut and think about Luke some more. You let his face appear in your mind, his warm brown eyes and soft smile came into focus. It makes you sad, thinking you may never be able to hear his voice again– or feel his touch.

“You know we can’t do that, Kalo. Put the gun down and we can work this out.” Rossi says calmly. You open your eyes again.

“I’m not going back to prison.” Kalo mutters. His arm becomes shaky as it is pushed deeper into your throat, you gag as your airway becomes almost completely blocked.

“Kalo– don’t do this,” Rossi pleads with the man, he senses that he is about to snap.

“I’m not going back to prison!” Kalo shouts, and you know– you know that this was it.

A loud gunshot rings out and you feel yourself dropping to the floor. Your entire body goes numb. You’re sure that you’re dead.

But as you collapse to the tile floors, you slowly realize that there was no pain– or darkness. You open your eyes to find Kalo lying lifeless next to you. His eyes are still open as blood starts to spread across the ground. You push yourself away, realizing the crimson liquid had splattered all over you and your clothing. You scoot backwards until you ram into the bench.

You look around the room as the agents jump into action. Rossi hurries to Kalo, kicking his gun out of the way before kneeling down to check his pulse.

Matt, JJ, and Tara rush to gather up the other hostages, still huddling on the floor in the corner.

Emily crosses the room to put handcuffs on the other robber. Diggy stands with his gun still pointing at his partner. The smoke is still curling off the end of the barrel as he looks at his fallen friend.

As Emily approaches him, he drops the weapon, showing that he is willing to go peacefully.

“No one was supposed to die,” he says in shock. “I had to shoot him.”

Emily starts telling him his rights when you are approached by a soft, calm voice.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Spencer says soothingly. He kneels beside you. “Are you hurt?” he asks.

You shake your head, your eyes staring blankly at him as you try to regain the feeling in your body.

“Can you stand?” Spencer asks wearily.

You nod, slowly getting to your feet, with support from Spencer.

“Luke–” you manage to spit out. Your voice is shaky.

Spencer nods, wrapping his around your waist reassuringly, “Luke’s here,” he tells you. “I’m gonna take you to him.”

Spencer leads you outside of the bank. The sunlight is almost blinding and you hold your arms up to shield some of it. You want to search for Luke, to scream out his name, but your senses are betraying you.

Your knees wobble, and you rely way too much on Spencer’s support to get down the steps of the building. You lean into his side, almost ready to fall, when you hear your name being called by a familiar voice.

“She’s okay,” Spencer tells Luke as he darts across the sidewalk towards you.

You barely have time to lay your eyes on him before he’s replacing Spencer’s arm with his own embrace. Suddenly, you’re engulfed by his touch and smell and everything Luke. It takes a moment for you to realize it’s real– that your husband is here and that you’re finally safe in his arms. But when you do, you let it consume you. You collapse into his frame and wind your arms tightly around his neck, squeezing like you just couldn’t get close enough. Your face presses into the nape of his neck and you breathe in his warm, familiar scent.

“You’re okay?” Luke asks, finally pulling back to assess the damage that had been done.

He winces when he sees the blood covering your shirt. “It’s not mine,” you whisper, knowing what he was looking so concerned about.

It was his– the man who had inflicted upon you the worst day of your entire life. You scratch at the fabric, suddenly desperate for it to come off.

“I want to go home,” you tell Luke.

He nods softly. “I’m gonna take you home.”

…

You stand in the bathroom later that night, staring at the reflection looking back at you. Your eyes were hollow– lifeless. The shower is running, the steam already rising above the curtain and starting to cause the mirror to fog up.

You peel off your shirt to showcase the deep, discoloration already evident on your neck from where the robber had held you. You were tracing the line of bruises across your skin when the wave hit you. In an instant, you let out an earth shattering sob. The cries come from deep within you and wrack your entire body.

You’re heaving so loudly that you don’t even hear Luke enter the bathroom. Only when he is behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tightly into your chest did you notice his presence.

He holds you like that for a while, muttering sweet nothings into your hair and swaying you gently. When your sobs finally subside, he slowly starts helping you undress. First, he helps you unclasp your bra, then he undoes your pants, and acts as a balance support while you step out of them.

Once you are finally naked, he starts undressing himself. He is much faster than you.

Luke leads you into the shower and piles in behind you. The warm water washes over you causing goosebumps to rise up on your skin as you adjust to the sudden heat.

Luke is gentle. He helps rinse the hardened blood that was caked in your hair out. You watch the water that falls off your skin turn crimson as it swirls down the drain. He softly takes a washcloth and runs it up and down your skin, you lean into his touch, grateful that he is here to help you.

Luke plants random kisses all over your skin as he washes it. On your forehead, your nose, your cheek, your shoulder. When he gets to your collarbone, he stops. Luke’s fingertips ran across the bruise that had been left behind on you. You watch as his face twists in pain. He hates seeing you hurt. He hates the fact that he couldn’t stop this from happening to you.

You break Luke out of his trance by gathering his hand in yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Your team saved me today,” you tell him. “You saved me.”

Luke brings your hand to his lips and softly kisses your knuckles.

“I thought I was never going to see you again,” you tell him. On the last word, your voice breaks, and you start crying softly again.

Luke pulls you in closer, his hands winding down your back. You press your face against his chest and wrap your arms around his waist. He holds you like that for a long time, until the hot water causes your fingertips to prune and until the mirror is completely covered in fog. Luke holds you tightly, his head resting against your wet hair as you breathe against his rising chest.

You sigh heavily. For now, you are content like that. In fact, you don’t think you’d care if the two of you stayed in the shower forever You could spend an entire lifetime like that– wrapped up in Luke’s safe embrace.

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