#anyway. goin back 2 my coffee-and-scrolling now

[aeide-thea]

beer poll going around and unfortunately some of the commentary on it has activated my Pet Food-Discussion Peeve, namely, people who are really determined to not only say 'X tastes terrible to me personally' (always legit!) but to assert that X tastes terrible in the abstract, no ymmv modifiers allowed

and it's just like. hi. taste varies. and i get that ppl think they're ~speaking truth to the power of american beer-drinking hegemony~ and that justifies how abrasive they're being, but like. if you're aggressively claiming that non-tastiness is an intrinsic property of a foodstuff and not something individually determined by individuals depending on their cultural context and their genetics (at least wrt stuff like cilantro and maybe tannins, i forget) and their textural sensitivities and their own personal preferences…? not sure you're being as radical as you think you are, actually

[wavyhairedbabyy]

Idiots - Part 2

Karl Jacobs x gn!reader

tldr: They’ve both got a crush. Sucks, since they’re the only ones oblivious to it. (Slow Burn!)

CW: none, fluffy :))

a/n: Picnic portion was inspired by Sunflower by Rex Orange County :) Sorry it took so long! Major writers block on this but now I’m back :)))

edited yet?: yes - let me know if I missed anything!

Part 1 - Part 2

“So we agree, I’m Eve and you’re Wall-E?” y/n asked as the credits began to roll.

“I want to sit here and disagree with you just to spite you, but I can’t,” Karl responded, “I could 100% see you blasting someone for just walking funny on a bad day.”

“I’d blast you just for the hell of it,” Y/n jumped onto their feet raising their arms up in a big stretch after sitting for the movie.

“Bad choice,” Karl reached his arms to the side of their body, immediately tickling them. Y/n immediately screamed out his name, trying to move themselves out of his grasp. As soon as Karl noticed this, he grabbed their arm to pull them back on to the sofa.

“You’re... going... to... regret... this!” Y/n huffed out, thrashing against him. Karl’s giggles and their screams echoed around the house. It wasn’t until y/n mustered up all of their strength to push him of the couch for them to escape his clutches.

Y/n ran to the bathroom, quickly locking the door behind them. Karl quickly ran behind them only to have the door slammed in his face, “Aw, c’mon y/n, let me in.”

“After that stunt you pulled? In your dreams, Jacobs,” Y/n turned toward the sink, ignoring Karl’s attempts to unlock the door. The only thing on their mind was their night routine and then hitting the hay.

As y/n started the warm water, the door swung opened making them jump. At the door frame stood Karl with a quarter in his hand, “Next time you should check to see what kind of lock I have.”

“Whatever, smart ass,” y/n rolled their eyes playfully, reaching for their tooth brush. They brushed their teeth as Karl scrolled through his phone. After the flight, unpacking, and a night with Karl, y/n just wanted to head to bed. They couldn’t even imagine how Karl felt with all the Mr. Beast stuff. After rinsing their mouth they asked, “You goin’ to bed too?”

Karl shook his head, “Nah, I’m going to stream for an hour or two. Nick and Alex want to practice for this Minecraft Championship thing so I’m gonna root them all while also roasting the crap out of them.”

Y/n should’ve known, especially with the mountains of energy drinks in his fridge. The man probably never sleeps, “Well you enjoy that. I’m knocking out for the night.”

Karl nodded. “I figured. You and you grandma schedule,” he giggled, resulting in a pout from them.

“You say that as if dealing with sleep deprived me isn’t one of the worst things in the world.”

“I mean, you got me there,” he shrugged. He walked over to them, wrapping his arms around them tightly, “Goodnight. Knock on my door if you need anything at anytime, okay?”

Y/n nodded, hugging back just as tightly. They wished this could last together. His smell was comforting, reminding her of happiness and serenity. His hold made them feel safe, like nothing could hurt them as long as he was there. The feeling ended too quickly as he pulled away, giving them one last smile before heading off to his stream room.

Y/n looked at themselves in the mirror, huffing to themselves. Going from not seeing Karl for over a year to all Karl all the time felt like sensory overload. The butterflies, the emotions, their head racing with thoughts that they shouldn’t have for someone who is just their best friend - it was a lot.

This was going to be a long week.

***

Y/n woke up to the sun’s rays gleaming through the blinds. Looking at their phone, they saw that it was 9AM. Juggling between the staying in bed and getting up, y/n decided that getting up was the better option. The last thing they wanted to do was go back to bed and mess up their “grandma schedule,” as Karl would call it.

Moving out of the bed, they reached their limbs as far as they could stretch them. After picking their outfit, they journeyed to the bathroom to get their morning started. On the way over, they peeked into Karl’s room and saw him still asleep. They had no idea when he had gone to bed so they shut the door quietly, making their way to the bathroom once again.

As they were brushing their teeth, y/n realized it was the day they were going to the warehouse for a Mr. Beast video. They knew they weren’t going to be filmed, but the nerves were still there. They had met Chris, which was helpful, but not Jimmy yet. What if they messed up a shot? Or messed up any equipment? Not touching anything while they were there seemed like a fool proof idea.

Y/n finished up their morning routine as they kept thinking of ways to not fuck anything up. Making their way to the kitchen, they knew the one thing that could - somewhat - calm their nerves: coffee.

Y/n happily found a jar of instant coffee. Not the best, but it’ll do. Upon unscrewing the jar, they noticed it a plastic film seal up which confirmed that it was brand new. Did Karl get this just because he knew they were coming? They couldn’t recall him ever drinking caffeine that wasn’t from an energy drink. Y/n didn’t know, but the idea of it made their heart melt.

***

Once Karl woke up, he and y/n made a quick breakfast together made their way over to the warehouse.

“I don’t know why, but I’m really nervous. I don’t even know what I’m nervous about. I know it’s going to be fine, but.... I don’t know,” y/n expressed on the drive there. It was a brand new experience and they didn’t know what to expect. They’ve never been on a set of any kind let alone one for someone as well known as Mr. Beast.

“Hey, you’ll be okay. I know it can feel overwhelming, especially for your first time. I’ll be there if you need anything,” Karl comforted them through their nerves. He held their hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “If you ever need a minute, don’t wait to ask. Just take it.”

Y/n smiled at him. He was always great at making sure they were comfortable wherever they went. While the nerves were still there, they felt a lot better knowing Karl was available, even among the chaos that may ensue.

***

The day at the warehouse went really well. Y/n’s nerves went away about an hour in, but that didn’t stop Karl from checking every now and then. Y/n was grateful that they respected them not wanting to be filmed, especially when they started filming a Fear Factor like video with snakes, cockroaches, and tarantulas. With all the creatures around, it didn’t take long for them to grab one of the smaller boa constrictors and start chasing Karl around with it.

“Y/N! STOP! WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU?” Karl screeched, running away from them.

“REMEMBER THAT TICKLE ATTACK FROM LAST NIGHT? TOLD YOU YOU WOULD REGRET IT!” Y/n yelled back. They were laughing the entire time while Karl continued his screaming. Their fun chasing Karl was cut short when snake man had to start packing away his animals.

At some point during the day, y/n had taken a step outside for a social break. Chris took this time to continue the conversation he and Karl had in the car. Walking over to his friend, he asked, “So have you told them yet?”

Karl looked around to ensure you hadn’t come back or were around before responding, “No, I’m going to wait until right before they leave. I’m scared that I’ll tell them and it’ll ruin the week.”

Chris looked at Karl, absolutely dumbfounded, “Dude, I can’t believe the two of you. And you two acted the way you did today in college too?”

“I mean, yeah. We’re best friends. What’s wrong with how we’re acting?” Karl gave him a confused look.

“Nothing but it’s so painfully obvious y’all are into each other. I didn’t pick it up yesterday, but y/n is totally into you too, man,” Chris explained, “Even Chandler was able to pick it up. He thought I was kidding when I said you two weren’t a low-key thing. Please do both of yourselves a favor and just tell them.”

This conversation ran through Karl’s head the rest of the day. Did y/n really like him back? The thought of that made his stomach do flips. He became hyper aware of all y/n’s actions and they suddenly meant more to him. When they high-fived, he felt his hand on fire when they weaved their fingers with his. He was more aware of their body on his when they hugged, butterflies flying through his stomach when they gave him a squeeze.

The drive home was spent by y/n non-stop talking about how much of a great day they had right after a heated debate on where they would be picking up dinner. They were too tired to even thinking about cheffing up a meal. What y/n didn’t know was the nerves hidden underneath Karl’s semi-cool exterior on how he planned on confessing his feelings. Luckily, “semi-cool” was his middle name.

The two had stopped at the Asian fusion place they decided to pick up food from. As they got into the car, Karl’s eyes lit up as he came up with an idea for dinner and turned to y/n.

Y/n, noticing this, furrowed their brows and said, “You either have a really good idea or a really dumb idea, and I think you’re going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not.”

“You are absolutely right!” Karl giggled, “Anyways, to keep it short and simple, picnic in the park? I have a blanket and we can pick up some ice cream or something.”

“That... actually is a great idea! I’m starting a playlist now and I’ll share it with you. How does ‘stupidly great vibes’ sound?”

“Sounds perfect.”

***

The two sat on a hill in a nearby park, digging into their dinner with the last minute playlist y/n had come up with playing in the background. The bottom of the sun was barely touching the horizon, getting ready to set and give the sky to the moon for the night.

The comfortable silence they had was one of their favorite things about their relationship. Neither of them ever felt pressure to fill the emptiness. Just being in each other’s company was entertaining and pleasing for both of them. They just watched their surroundings, while enjoying their food and each other’s presence.

After they clean up, the silence continued. They sat shoulder to shoulder, enjoying the moment they were in. They both would steal side glances at each other without the other noticing. Moving to lean their head on Karl’s shoulder, Y/n was looking at the sunset but their thoughts were swarmed with him and the last day and a half. They loved how he always made sure they were comfortable and welcomed in any setting. They loved they way his voices would crack during a fit of giggles. Just one day with him had their mind swirling in a pool of just him. His touch, his smell, his voice. They felt like they were in a trance with him.

Being with them, Karl realized how much happier he was with them there. He realized how much giddier he was waking up, how his mood had been uplifted with just their presence. He loved how headstrong they were, but never so much to the point that it hurt other people. He loved the way they could up his self esteem in the matter of a few minutes. The more and more he thought about it, the more he realized he loved them. He loved them more than just a best friend. He’s had for a handful of years. He wanted more than just the title “best friend.”

The two sat there, both individually coming to the realization that they have been falling in love with the other over the last few years. Neither caught onto each other’s hints while every outsider saw the love for one another other bloom.

Karl turned his head, spotting a small white daisy in the grass next to their blanket. He leaned over to grab it which forced y/n to lift their head from where it was, their eyes watching for what he was reach for. Plucking it from the grass, he leaned back and gave it to y/n.

“For you,” he practically whispered with the goofiest grin on his face. Y/n took the flower from his hand, returning his smile.

“Aw, thanks Karl.”

They locked eyes immediately after. Any plans Karl had in his mind on confessing to y/n immediately got thrown out the window, the hours of thinking gone to waste. In that moment, he blurted out the only words he could make sense of in that instant, “y/n... I think I’m in love with you.”

Y/n froze, trying to wrap the words he said around their head. They for sure thought they were awake but after his confession, they couldn’t be sure if they were in a dream or not. Their mind was reeling, making the task of forming a sentence that made sense a difficult one.

At the same time, Karl was giving himself a mental face palm. He wanted to confess his feelings, but not to that level. His nerves were on high alert, already assuming the worst was yet to come. He had to save the friendship at the very least.

“I-I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to come out like that,” he rambled, “But - uh- I’ve had a crush on you for a while now and I never wanted to ruin the friendship but if you’re uncomfortable with that, that totally makes sense-”

As he kept talking, y/n began to collect their thoughts. They thought he looked so cute when he nervously rambled but they had to cut him off eventually, knowing his anxiety levels were through the roof.

“Karl,” As soon as he heard their voice, his rambling stopped and kept all eyes on them. He looked at them waiting for a response but receiving none. Instead y/n wrapped their arms around him, enveloping him in a warm hug, “I think I’m in love with you too.”

Karl felt his heart explode. Chris was right. He hugged them back just as, if not more, tight. Any nerves he had running threw his body were replaced with pure happiness. He didn’t need to hold anything back from them anymore.

Y/n pulled away from the hug, leaning their foreheads together, “Can I kiss you?”

Karl smiled, “Honestly, it’s all I’ve want since I made that shot into your coffee.”

Y/n gave Karl a bewildered look, “What? That long?” They exclaimed

“Yeah, but we have the rest of the week to talk about it.” Karl leaned in, pressing his lips gently against theirs, wrapping his hands around them to bring them closer. The kiss was gentle and sweet, as if they would be woken up from a dream if they were anything but that.

They pulled away from kiss, but remained in each other’s arms. They stayed silent and enjoyed each other’s presence and touch, each meaning much more than they had just a few moments earlier. All that was left in the park was the semicircle of the sun on the horizon, a bag of food scraps, and two idiots, dumbfounded at the love they had for each other.

***

If you liked this fic, check out my others:

Masterlist

[uswntxfootball]

i don’t want to watch the world end with someone else (jackie groenen x muwfc!reader)

a media takeover day makes you realize just how bad you are at hiding your feelings. 

word count: 2634 ish

rated P for painful pining, C FOR CHEESY AS FUCK, and F for fluFF ciTY.

song inspo: clinton kane’s i don’t want to watch the world end with someone else

——

“so is everything clear?”

you and jackie exchange a glance and nod.

casey smiles and says:

“good good. it’ll happen tomorrow so just make sure you follow the guidelines that i gave, though i have no doubt you two will do just fine.”

with that said, she gave a wave and left the call.

you lean forward closing the laptop that sat on the table in front of you, before leaning back on the couch behind you.

jackie promptly laid her head on your shoulder, and you wiggled your arm around her, settling it around the back of her neck, her hand coming up to grasp yours.

your heart threatened to explode out of your chest at the act.

this wasn’t uncommon between the two of you.

you were always holding hands wherever you went, always touching, and always flirting.

this of course, didn’t go unnoticed.

as a result jackie and you have dismissed thousands of press and fan questions, with each and every “we’re just friends” sending a dagger through your heart.

yet here you were, quarantined with her in manchester, holding onto the foolish hope that things might work out.

falling in love with your best friend wasn’t part of the plan, but there wasn’t anything you could do about it now.

“y/n.”

“hmm?” you hum out, watching the girl beside you play with your fingers absentmindedly.

“what if the fans think i’m boring?”

you sit up abruptly and jackie turns to look at you.

“jacks. you’ve got to be joking right? if there’s people who think you’re boring, i don’t want to meet them,” you huff.

jackie rolls her eyes.

“well that’s you. you’re biased you don’t count.”

you gasp in mock offense.

“i don’t count? how rude i- this is how i get treated for-“

jackie cut you off while pulling you into a hug.

“oh shut up you big baby.”

you look up at her and stick your tongue out at her, an action which she returns.

getting a little lost in her eyes, the two of you maintained eye contact for an unusual amount of time, the tension almost tangible.

it’s only when jackie’s phone buzzes on the table that you both break away, cheeks red.

you clear your throat quickly and stand up.

looking at jackie’s flushed face you tease:

“you know you’re cute when you blush.”

her face flushed even redder.

“oh shut up.”

~~

you woke up the next day at the same time you normally do.

the girl beside you was still fast asleep and you couldn’t help but stare a little at the sight.

her hair a mess and currently taking up more than half the bed with her limbs strewn about, you couldn’t be more into it.

there was just something about her.

you shook your head softly.

breaking your eyes away, you began getting ready for your run.

logging into the manchester united instagram page, you recorded a quick video greeting everyone for the day.

“hi everyone! i’m y/n, a forward for manchester united, which you probably knew already, but i’m going to be taking over this account with jackie today!”

after a little pause you continue in a whisper.

“i’m getting ready to go on a run right now, trying to be a little quieter because a certain midfielder is still fast asleep.”

“she snores too,” you added quietly with a giggle. “but i’ll be back in a bit guys!”

jackie would get you back for that later.

you got back from your run about half an hour later, with the midfielder still asleep.

changing out of your running clothes, you made a quick breakfast and some coffee for the two of you, and opened the account again.

you prop your phone up in front of you and begin recording.

“so i just got back from my run, made some breakfast, and guess who’s still asleep.”

you point towards the door behind you.

“hint it’s jackie. i even made her breakfast too. i think i should get like a “best friend in the world” award or something. i’m way too good of a friend to her. anyways that’s it for now, i’ll update you if sleeping beauty ever wakes. bye!”

you finished your breakfast while scrolling through twitter, smiling when you see some of the fans freaking out over the prospect of the two of you quarantining together.

after a little bit you heard the door behind you open, looking up to see a very sleepy (and frankly very cute) jackie groenen in it’s place.

your heart fluttered in your chest.

“coffee?” you offer, grinning at the enthusiastic nod that jackie gave you.

jackie’s cheeks flushed a little when she looked around.

“you made me breakfast?”

“well since someone slept in of course i did.”

the midfielder rolled her eyes and smiled, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek before she walked over to the counter.

you felt like you were going to pass out.

if jackie noticed your shallow breathing and flushed cheeks, she didn’t comment.

“have you recorded anything yet?”

you nod, taking out your phone to show her the account.

she pauses for a moment before propping the phone up in front and starts recording.

“hi guys! i hope y/n didn’t bore you too much this morning-”

you cut her off with a gasp.

“me?! i’m obviously the fun one here! she-ow!’

jackie interrupted you with a punch.

you pouted, rubbing your shoulder.

“see she bullies me too.”

“oh she’s so dramatic,” jackie says while rolling her eyes.

the two of you get so preoccupied with bickering that you forget all about the video.

it’s only when you turn a little bit when you notice.

“damn the fans are gonna get the jackie-y/n quarreling special today.”

jackie snorts at that, deciding to post the 2 minute video with the label you had so lovingly created.

the story post read:

“an early christmas present for the muwfc fans; featuring a 2 minute jackie-y/n quarreling special”

followed by a post that read:

“we’ll be going live in around an hour so make up some good questions for us!”

while you were posting those, you missed the loving smile and stare from the girl next to you.

~~

you grinned when you saw the next question.

“has jackie found out about your post from this morning yet?”

jackie turned to look at you, her eyes narrowing.

“what did you say?”

“hmmm nothing nothing”

“no what- tell me!”

you pretended to think for a moment before answering:

“hmmm nope”

you let out a squeak of surprise when jackie’s fingers suddenly dug into your sides.

“fine! fine! i’ll tell you!” you relent, your chest heaving slightly.

“i just said that you snore is all,” you answered quickly.

jackie gasped loudly.

“i do not!”

“yes she does she-“

your sentence gets cut off when jackie pulls you into a headlock.

“you can’t silence me! jackie snores li-“

she slapped a hand over your mouth.

“okay anyways. let’s keep goin-ew y/n!”

jackie pulled her hand back with a grimace, you smiling triumphantly.

“she licked me,” jackie whined, wiping her hand on your shirt.

a few seconds later her hand settled on your thigh, and you swore you saw her smirk when you inhaled sharply.

a little flustered, you cleared your throat quickly before turning to the screen, noting the incoming flurry of comments about how cute the two of you are together.

jackie read the next question.

“are you guys dating?”

she gave the camera a wink when she said:

“y/n wishes.”

you rolled your eyes.

“we all know you want to. i mean who wouldn’t want to date me? i’m just the hottest person you’ve ever seen and-”

“oh and she’s cocky too,” jackie added with a grin, letting out a laugh at your expression.

you turn back to screen in time to catch another question.

“can jackie play something for us?”

jackie excitedly answered a “yes”, before standing up to grab her guitar.

you shuffled over to the other side of the couch when jackie got back.

here you sat watching the midfielder talk animatedly about her song choice.

you didn’t hear much of it, instead getting lost staring at the dutch girl, her smile wide and eyes sparkling.

“y/n what do you think?”

it snaps you out of your daze.

an “i think you’re beautiful” flashed through your mind, but what came out was:

“uh i-sorry what?”

jackie giggled.

“i’ll take that as a yes then.”

a soft guitar melody filled the air a few seconds after.

this was going to be a disaster.

~~

when jackie started singing you promptly forgot how to breathe.

you could feel your heart racing in your chest, butterflies exploding in your stomach.

her voice filled the air, and her presence was absolutely intoxicating.

strikingly blue eyes met yours during the chorus, and when she smiled softly you seriously felt like you were going to pass out.

and i wish we didn’t say goodbye

cause we’re just standing still

and i don’t really know what tomorrow holds

your heart was threatening to explode, and the three words you’ve kept buried for so long were beginning to make their way out from the back of your mind.

you didn’t know if you could make it to the end of the song.

you didn’t know if you could not tell her.

but i’ve finally realized

if this is our last goodbye until we’re gone

who cares about the wrongs we’ve caused ourselves

cause i don’t want to watch the world end with someone else

it didn’t help that jackie kept smiling at you, her eyes locking with yours and making your brain and heart go into overdrive.

it didn’t help that jackie was just so utterly attractive.

no, it didn’t help at all.

while the two of you were off in your own little world, the fans were going crazy, many picking up on the loving glances the two of you exchanged.

~~

the livestream ended not long after the song did.

and when it did you were torn.

do you keep it to yourself?

or do you risk it all for the measly hope that by some miracle she liked you back?

your heart preferred the second.

and in a game of internal tug o war, your heart won.

“jackie.”

the midfielder whipped around to face you.

fuck she’s pretty.

“i’m-“

fuck.

the words were sitting right on the tip of your tongue.

“i-“

jackie gave you a confused expression.

“you’re what?”

“i forgot to tell you that uhm-“

fuck the words. the words were right there. just say them.

jackie tilted her head to the side, puzzled.

“you forgot to tell me what?”

you cursed at her internally for being so cute.

“i-“

you gulped.

you can do this.

its just three words. three-

“i didn’t do the laundry.”

fuck.

jackie’s puzzled expression turns into a teasing one.

“that’s what you were so nervous to tell me? come on i’m not that scary am i?”

you shook your head, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“hey look, we can do it together then,” jackie said with a smile, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the room.

~~

shit.

this turned out to be way harder than you thought.

you had tried, multiple times on multiple occasions.

your tongue however, wouldn’t let you.

each and every time you failed, coming up with the strangest excuses for your bumbling.

you’re pretty sure you accidentally said that you forgot to fold the dishes once.

jackie just thought it was cute.

though your relationship didn’t change much, you did notice a persistent blush on the midfielder’s cheeks whenever you held her hand.

you didn’t comment on it though.

~~

jackie’s sitting next to you on the tiny kitchen counter.

the two of you are having dinner, having just come back from training, bickering about soccer (or as jackie called it, “football”) and how she missed her shot last game.

which was ironic because being this close to the midfielder made you feel like you were missing your shots.

anyways.

“oh come on it wasn’t like i was trying to miss!”

“could’ve fooled me,” you laugh, jackie gasping in offense.

“like you could’ve done any better.”

“yes i could! in fact i have a higher shooting accuracy than-“

“oh come on that was based off of our shots from like ages ago!”

“potato pota-“

“y/n!”

you smile at jackie’s indignant outcry.

“i’m just better at soccer than you,” you tease.

“one it’s football. two no you’re not.”

“yes i am.”

“no you’re not.”

“i am.”

“you’re no-“

“i love you.”

jackie stops talking.

your eyes go wide when you realize what you said.

jackie’s voice is soft when she stammers:

“wh-what?”

“i-“

you take a deep breath.

welp. here we go.

“i love you. and i’ve been trying so hard not to say it, but you make it so hard for me not to and i- i’ve been in love with you for years now jacks and i just i can’t help myself. it’s like im-“

“y/n. stop.”

you didn’t hear her.

“it’s just you. all the time. when i wake up and when i go to sleep and it doesn’t help that we’re quarantined together which is why i was trying to hard not to say it because if you hated me and this all goes to hell what would we do? i’m sorry if i’m screwing everything up i didn’t even plan on saying it today it just happened and i-“

you’re cut off from your rambling when jackie launches herself at you.

you’re frozen, with jackie hugging you tightly, unsure of what it meant, whether she hated you or not.

then.

a whisper so quiet you almost don’t hear it.

“i love you too.”

you almost fall off the counter.

you look at her with wide eyes, your heartbeat in your ears, worried that you might have heard her wrong.

“you-what?”

jackie pulls back to look at you.

fuck she’s so gorgeous.

“i said i love you too,” she whispers, looking down and looking almost the tiniest bit shy.

god you want to kiss her.

“do it then,” jackie challenges.

your ears heat up a tiny bit, realizing you said that aloud.

“are-are you sure?”

she nodded, and upon seeing your hesitation just decided to do it herself.

she tilts your head up by your chin and all of a sudden your mind goes blank.

everyone always talks about how the perfect kiss feels like fireworks, but you didn’t feel that here.

instead you felt like you were floating, with only the girl in your lap keeping you grounded.

one of jackie’s hands was on your cheek, another tracing on the back of your neck, and you felt weightless.

she broke the kiss after a while.

your heart was pounding so hard it was a miracle you were still alive.

the two of you sat quietly for a while, jackie on your lap with her head against your chest, until she broke the silence.

“that song was about you if you didn’t know.”

your heart fluttered again. the things she did to you.

“really?”

jackie nodded.

she looked up and before she kissed you she whispered:

“you’re the only one i’d want to watch the world end with.”

[trillian-anders]

four christmases

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

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

word count: 16k

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

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

2018

What a fucking asshole. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want triple.” 

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

She cried. 

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

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

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

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

But it was fine. 

It didn’t really matter. 

You just wanted to go home. 

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

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

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

It doesn’t matter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ransom-”

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

60 mph,

65 mph,

70…

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

75

80

85

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

90

95

100

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

105

110

115

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

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

“Take me home.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Give me my keys.” 

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

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

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

“Give me-”

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

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

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

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

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

2019

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone. 

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

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck he was going to kill you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, would you?” Linda asked again. 

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

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

“If Ransom gets house arrest?” You asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You got him regular Trojans. 

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

234.72 ETRN-STD

523.50 DRNK

435.62 HAWTHNE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your parents-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More.

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

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

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

“I know Ransom.” He scoffed. 

“I’m no better off than you now.” 

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

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

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

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

“Marta ruined everything” He whispered into your neck. 

“No Ransom, you did.” 

2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ransom was disgusting. 

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

He was doing this shit on purpose. 

And you hated him for it. 

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

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

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

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

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

Is she gone yet? 

Fucking prick. 

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

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

Not leaving, come deal with her yourself

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost. 

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

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

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

Crime of Passion?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wife murders husband?

“I’m gonna write a mystery novel.” 

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

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

Ransom was as good as he was, better even. 

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

This was promising. 

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

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

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

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

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

Eager replies. 

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

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

...and yours. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Every. Night. 

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

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

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

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

“Where’s the fun in that?” Asshole. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was nice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why are you going to-”

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

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

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

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

“I know.” He swallowed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t ask you to.”

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

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

Fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It never gets old. 

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

Early morning sleepy soft kisses, I love you.

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

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

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

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

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

It was intense. His love for you.

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

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

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

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

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

He’d bought you a house. 

He’s paying for your sisters school.

He’s paying you to still work for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God he is beautiful. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay!” Annoyed this time.

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

love you too

With that you went to rouse the sleeping man upstairs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

.

TAGLIST //

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

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Paintings & Picture frames. [Pt.4]

Daryl Dixon x Reader [Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7]

The time you spent together hanging on opposite ends of the bar was short lived, after your coffees were finished you were told to to ahead and sit with Daryl to work more easily while there were only two other people in who were only passing through and making a quick stop.

When more customers would come in, Daryl would go outside for a smoke, keeping a close eye on his computer. When inside he’d have his camera in hand, probably going through his gallery again and again to keep busy. What you wouldn’t realize is that he would sneak in some quick snaps, trying out different settings to get the lighting inside the diner just right to get the color of your uniform stand out against the bright colors of the diner’s interior. They of course weren’t the most flattering images since they were just tests, but some managed to capture your smile as you were serving the friendly older lady or handing the little crying child a lollipop to calm him down before giving the parent an apologetic look. Daryl always made sure to have his camera gone by the time you’d come back and he’d be back to focussing on the paper. By the end of your shift you had covered most of the points you had to cover and tomorrow al that was left to do were finishing touches and write out the last two points.

You had no idea how you managed, but the night ended with you and your boss cleaning up the kitchen and the counter while Daryl wiped down all the tables one last time. “Again, thanks a lot. For everything today.” You said as you stood outside of the diner after closing up. Your boss had left already after thanking Daryl herself as well so now it was just the two of you saying your goodbyes for today.

“So, I’m not working tomorrow. Who’s place do you wanna work at?” You wondered as you watched how Daryl put away all his stuff on his bike. “We ain’t goin’ to my place tha’s for sure.” The look on his face was one you couldn’t really place, but the message was loud and clear. You weren’t studying at his house. “Wanna come to mine, then? Gotta clean up a bit but it’ll be doable.”

“Ya sure, text me yer address when yer done cleanin’.” He sat on his bike, ready to leave and you said your goodbyes. Without thinking twice you moved in to give him a hug as it was something you did to all your friends back in your hometown and was considered normal. You gave him a hug and the second your arms were around him you realized what you were doing, panic immediately setting in. You let go in an instant. “So yeah, I’ll text you tomorrow then.” You stammered for a moment before turning on your heels and walking home. Daryl stayed behind in he parking lot, frozen and confused about what just happened and unable to place whatever he was feeling right now.

You arrived home still shaking and blessing the fact that you had Daryl email you the current project files because you were sure he wasn’t going to answer your text tomorrow after your little scene today. Relaxing after your shift wasn’t going to happen anymore so you went straight to bed but still couldn’t sleep. After a while of mindlessly scrolling your phone you decided to text Daryl that you arrived home safely, asking if he did as well without really expecting an answer from him. As you expected, the answer never came and you eventually fell asleep. You woke up early with the idea to clean up your place even if Daryl wasn’t gonna come over, at least your place would have gotten a much needed cleanup. It wasn’t like there was laundry piling out of your bathroom or here were dished lining every inch of your kitchen counter but with being in school or at work most of this week, you just didn’t get to most of your housework. Over breakfast you realized you hadn’t even looked at your phone yet and took it out to check if anyone had messaged you. To your surprise you found two notifications from Daryl on your screen one message was sent late last night and read ‘good to hear, got home safe as well.’ And the one from this morning read ‘lemme know what time you want me to visit. In town for work all day.’

You texted him back that you were cleaning up first and you settled on meeting around two PM.

You were almost done cleaning up when your phone buzzed. Immediately stopping in your tracks and checking what it was only to see a text from Daryl. ‘There’s a coffeeshop on the way, you want sum?‘ You had a hard time containing your excitement and realized there was no need to contain it since you were there alone anyways and let out a little squeal of happiness, bouncing on the spot before texting, deleting and re-doing your text at least half a dozen times before sending a message telling Daryl your coffeeshop order. Even a text that small had you shaky without even knowing why. It was literally just a thank you text with what drink you’d like, no big deal you tried to tell yourself but still it made you wonder if you used the right words. Being an always anxious person who carried ‘nervous’ as a second name wasn’t as cute as some people made it seem.

Trying to remember what you were even doing, you looked around you and spotted the trash bags near the door. Not willing to put down your phone you put it in your pocket and upped the volume before you grabbed your keys and took out the last bits of trash, finishing your cleanup.

[bee-kathony]

The Oath | Ch. 5 “Aislingean: Dreams”

a/n: thank you to my people who read this before anyone and told me it was good and not s***, I am so grateful <3 @julesbeauchamp​ @claryclark​ @sassenachwriter​ @lburks226​

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4

January 22nd, 2019

12:09am

Geillis had given Claire a “you better tell me exactly what you’ve been doing” look as she came down the stairs. Claire hoped that she didn’t look like someone who had just had sex in the library of some stranger’s home. She thanked God that her hair was a mess ninety percent of the time, but still tried to assemble it into a bun on top of her head.

Once they found Angus and Rupert, the four of them climbed back into Geillis’ car and headed back to the city. Before Geillis could ask her any questions, Claire turned the radio on and it was a Beyonce song, making both Rupert and Angus break out into an off key singing battle.

Claire sat there in the front seat of Geillis’ car, a smile never leaving her lips as she thought about the evening. She had never been a woman to have a one night stand, especially not with a man in his house full of guests. Only feeling a little bit scandalous, Claire sighed happily which only made Geillis glare at her.

Not even two seconds after the car door shut as they dropped off Angus and Rupert, did her friend turn on her.

“Tell me what ye did, Claire! I can see it all over yer face…”

“What? I didn’t do anything,” Claire lied, but couldn’t help the grin that her lips formed.

“You met someone, didn’t ye?” Geillis questioned her, trying to study her friend.

“Perhaps I did,” Claire nodded. “But he doesn’t even know my name and I will probably never see him again. Just a one time thing.”

“Just what was a one time thing, Claire?” Geillis’ eyebrows rose to her hairline in surprise. “Did ye kiss a strange man, lass?”

“Ohhh, we did more than kiss alright,” Claire suddenly laughed and covered her mouth with her hand. She had lost count of how many drinks she had over the course of the evening and its seems her tongue was extremely loose.

Geillis gasped and smiling she clutched Claire’s arm. “Oh please, Claire. Ye canna leave it there, ye have to tell me. How far did ye go? Hand job?”

Claire didn’t answer, instead she only pretended to zip her lips and throw away the key.

“If ye dinna answer me Claire Beauchamp, I’ll assume ye went all the way wi’ a stranger at a party,” Geillis said firmly and when Claire started giggling again, her mouth dropped. “Well, well, look who’s the slut now.”

“I am not a slut!” Claire hit her friend on the arm. “I am tired though so if you will please drive home.”

“I bet yer tired lass, ye disappeared around 8 and I didna see ye for the next four hours,” she winked and moved the gear shift into drive. “Ye look like a lass who has had her corn grinded well.”

“Oh my God,” Claire laughed. “You were the one who told me to have some fun, so that’s what I did. I didn’t even think about Frank the entire night.”

“That’s great!” Geillis smiled. “Are ye goin’ to tell me who this strange man was or do I have to guess?”

“He was the owner,” Claire said freely — one way or another Geillis would have found out anyways.

The car swerved on the road as Geillis looked over at Claire, “James Fraser? Ye slept wi’ the owner of Fraser & Co. tonight?”

“I wouldn’t say we slept together per say since there was no bed involved, but there was a bookshelf and—“

“A bookshelf?! Claire!” Geillis laughed. “I didn’t think ye had it in ye to be honest.”

“Well I did and I don’t regret it for a moment,” she said crossing her arms over her chest.

“No lass, dinna every regret having sex wi’ that fine piece of man.”

Claire rolled her eyes, “Just drive, Geillis. I’m sure in a week I’ll have forgotten all about my wild night. We have to change some policies at the hospital so I’ll be really busy the next few months.”

“Ye just had amazing sex with a bookshelf involved and yer still talkin’ about work,” Geillis clicked her tongue. “Ye never cease to amaze me, Beauchamp.”

“He was a better shag than Frank,” she admitted. “With Frank, I often found my mind wandering to work… but not with Jamie.”

“Oh Jamie is it? Ye dinna call him James like everyone else?” Geillis smirked.

“Well we are intimately acquainted,” Claire joked.

“I’m glad ye had a good night, Claire. Are ye happy ye went?”

Smiling to herself once again, she nodded. “Yes, very happy actually. It turned out to be way better than I was expecting.”

“Oh yes…” Geillis smiled. “Ye had enough fun for the entire party.”

++++++

The next morning, Claire woke up with possibly the worst hangover she’d ever had. Not only was her head throbbing, but she had a delightful ache in between her legs and heat crept up her chest as she remembered the previous evening.

It’d been so long since Claire had felt this light and carefree. The last year of her relationship with Frank had been heading downhill and she only just realized it. He treated her as an accessory. Showing off his perfect girlfriend to all his colleagues at work, but never once caring for her opinion on anything he was discussing. She was a prop, not a lover — only to speak when asked, otherwise she must sit in her pretty little corner.

It was toxic. Claire furrowed her brow and ran her fingers through her curls. More than heartbreak, she felt like a complete fool. But there was nothing she could do to change the past save to go back in time, but that was impossible. So the only thing Claire could do was to move forward with her life and to put the past behind her.

It had only been two days since her horrible break up and yet Claire had learned so much about herself. She found out that she was able to not fall apart as easily as she once might have. She had been bold last night with Jamie and hoped that boldness would continue to grow in all other areas of her life.

She still had the next two days off, however, and planned to spend the next 48 hours sitting on Geillis’ couch watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Geillis smiled from the couch, a cup of coffee in her hands as Claire walked out from her room.

“Good morning,” she mumbled on her way to the kitchen. Claire was far from being a morning person and add alcohol into the equation and she was a right nightmare.

“Did ye have any sex dreams about yer man?” Geillis asked once Claire returned with coffee in hand.

She nearly spit her first sip back into her cup as she sat down next to her friend. “No, I did not have any sex dreams. For your information, I didn’t dream at all.” This wasn’t entirely true. The truth was that Claire had dreamt about Jamie, but they weren’t sexual in nature. Her dream consisted of the two of them, sprawled out on a picnic blanket, limbs intertwined as two children ran around the garden. But Geillis didn’t need to know this. No one did.

“Fine then, lie to me.” Geillis settled back into the couch, propping her feet up on the coffee table.

“Are you working tonight?” Claire asked.

“Aye, from 4pm to midnight. Ye’ll have to fend for yourself for dinner.”

“I think I can manage ordering in,” she smiled and started to plan her pizza option for the night.

“Great, now hush… ’Tis my favorite episode, the one wi’ the bomb.” Geillis grinned and turned up the volume.

“Don’t you think it’s ridiculous that we watch this show? Being doctors and all?” Claire laughed as she pulled up a blanket around her feet.

“Nah,” Geillis smirked. “We both know we dinna watch it for the surgeries, but for McDreamy and McSteamy,” Her friend nudged her leg with her foot.

“Oh God, now we just sound like horny women.”

“I know I am, ye…” Geillis glanced at her, raising her brow, “Ye are horny for only one man wi’ flaming red locks, Beauchamp and ye know it.”

“Shut it,” Claire blushed, throwing a pillow at her friend who just laughed, knowing she was right.

They spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon watching tv and talking. Claire had never spent this much time with Geillis and found she quite liked the companionship. Frank had been so demanding of her time that she had spent very little of it with anyone else but him.

At 3:30pm, Geillis left Claire on her own as she headed in for work so Claire decided the best thing to do was to draw herself a bath.

Filled with bubbles and Eucalyptus oil, Claire climbed into the warm water, letting out a sigh as her muscles relaxed. With nothing in particular to think about, Claire let her mind drift and soon she found she was thinking about Jamie.

Even though she was submerged in hot water, her skin prickled with goosebumps whenever she thought about how his lips had felt against her skin. How his hands had touched her, leaving their imprint.

Her head fell back against the rim of the bath and her eyes shut, heavy with desire. Claire recalled the way his fingertips pressed roughly into her flesh as he held her against the bookshelf. With parted lips, she trailed her hand over her chest, lightly ghosting over her nipples, making them stand to attention.

But as she slid her hand over her stomach, she froze and her eyes snapped open.

“Claire Beauchamp, you will not have a sex fantasy about Jamie Fraser!”

She shook her head to rid any images of his strong lean arms holding her up and splashed water over her face. Then she settled back against the bath, closing her eyes and thought of sutures and broken limbs — anything to keep her mind off of Jamie.

After going over in her mind a very complicated procedure to remove a spleen, Claire found her mind drifting back to Jamie. She wondered if his company had any social media and so she innocently picked up her cell phone and went to Instagram.

“Fraser & Co.,” she muttered as she typed in his company and it popped up immediately. Her heart raced as she clicked on their profile and started scrolling through the pictures.

Considering they were a fairly new company, there weren’t many pictures. One of Jamie and a man that looked a lot like him, but with jet black hair; they were holding their first bottle of whisky. A few of the different types of whisky they sold, one of the distillery and then the most recent were from the grand opening last night.

In one picture, Jamie was on stage giving the welcoming speech that she had missed. Her lips curved into a smile as she zoomed in closer on his face and took a screenshot. She felt silly, but wanted to be able to pull up his face whenever she wanted. Another picture was of the crowd, people mingling and drinking at the party, but when Claire zoomed in to try and find herself she saw something in the top right corner.

They were barely visible and she probably only knew who it was making their way up the stairs, hand in hand because it was her and Jamie. If people cared to zoom in or brighten the picture, they would see Jamie talking Claire up the stairs! Heat fanned over her cheeks as she blushed, realizing that this was their first picture together and so she took another screenshot.

“You are not some high school girl, Beauchamp,” she rolled her eyes and locked her phone, setting it down beside the bath.

Later she would end up deleting the screenshots and she didn’t dare follow the account. Claire wanted to see Jamie again, but she knew that the only thing she would bring to any kind of relationship was baggage. And the last thing she wanted was to make another relationship complicated from the start.

Drying off from the bath, Claire re-twisted her hair into a high bun and slid into her favorite silk robe. It was only 5pm, way too early to go to sleep. Instead she ended up ordering pizza with extra cheese and turning on a Christmas movie called A Princess for Christmas. It wasn’t very good, but the guy playing the prince was kind of charming and so she watched until the end.

Her eyes were heavy with sleep, and she must have dozed off near the end of the film and only woke from the sound of the door opening. Claire lifted her head from the couch to see Geillis putting her bag down near the entrance.

“Hi there stranger,” Geillis smiled.

“Is it midnight already?” Claire yawned, reaching for her phone to check the time. In fact it was nearly 1am, she had slept for at least a few hours.

“Have ye been sleepin’ the whole time I’ve been gone lass?” Her friend chuckled and came to sit beside her on the couch.

“Not the whole time,” She sat up, stretching her arms above her head. “Only a few hours and I feel like I could fall right back into bed.”

Geillis yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. “Yer makin’ me tired too. Ye still have off tomorrow right? I do too. How about we go into town and do a wee bit of shopping?”

“Oooh yes please,” Claire smiled. “I could use a new sweater or two.”

“Och, ye have plenty of sweaters, Claire,” Geillis shoved her foot as she stood up. “Find somethin’ a little less modest aye?”

“It’s the middle of winter,” Claire rolled her eyes. “I’ll do no such thing.”

“Whether ye like it or no, I’ll find ye somethin’ sexy tomorrow, Beauchamp,” Geillis winked and then said goodnight, heading off to her own room.

Yawning again, Claire rose slowly from the couch and after brushing her teeth, climbed into bed with a sigh. She never usually had this many days off in a row, but was thankful considering the week from hell she’d had.

Except it all hadn’t been bad. Meeting Jamie for one had brightened her week considerably.

Sleep claimed her again, laying heavy on her chest and soon she found herself dreaming of a tall red headed scotsman.

His fingers touched her cheek, softly, caressing. Lips pressed just under her ear, sucking the skin lightly. Claire whispered his name and he pulled her closer to him, once again making her forget everything, but him.

Clutching at the sheets, she cried out as he parted her thighs and thrust home.

“Oh, Sassenach,” She heard him say before Claire sat up in bed, her heart pounding.

Taking a deep breath, Claire lay back down. She had dreamt of him — Jamie. Of course she had, he was all she had thought of since she met him. It was only normal, she told herself.

Feeling out of sorts, Claire closed her eyes and then imagined that he was there with her once again. Slowly she let her fingers drift down her body, over her breasts, nipples hard and standing to attention. Her lips parted as she found the relief she was aching for. It was Jamie’s fingers she imagined as she worked herself to completion — it didn’t take long.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” she sighed, hoping that sleep would take her away again… away to Jamie.

Chapter 6: C. Beauchamp 

[bran-writes]

Farm Boy Blues Ep. 1 “Welcome Home, Sunny:” Pt. 2

Sunny climbed out of the Dyson Security car, bag in tow, and stretched carefully. He took stock of everybody out on the sidewalks. There were throngs of people crossing the street towards him, not particularly minding him at all. A couple sat down at a patio coffee shop table and a family of four piled into a minivan down the street. Food stall vendors offered their choices as the meals were cooked in front of waiting patrons. Everything seemed normal- just as Sunny had left it four months ago. The sun beat down on him as the smell of Courier Street assaulted his nose. 

Baking bread. 

Lamb meat.

Strong coffee.

Gourmet popcorn. That was exactly where Sunny was headed. He thanked the security guard and closed the car door before gingerly slinging his bag on his shoulder. Sunny crossed the busy street to Diane’s Eatery, coming upon a woman and her kids walking out with small bags of gourmet popcorn. The woman attempted to corral her two children who weren’t giving her a lick of attention until she snapped her fingers. Smiling, Sunny reached out and held the door open. 

“Thank you,” the woman sighed, rolling her eyes, “Come on kids, don’t make this man hold the door open all day. Move your boots!”

A shriek came from inside Diane’s Eatery and Sunny’s head snapped up, instantly recognizing the owner of the shrill voice. “Mama! Sunny’s here!”

Twelve year old Lacey bounded over the sales counter past a shocked old man laying his money down and sprinted towards Sunny before he had time to even get all the way inside. The girl threw her arms around Sunny and held tight, laughing. 

“Woah, woah, Lace, chill out,” Sunny laughed through the pain of her head smacking his stitches. He wanted to curse out in pain, but he was overwhelmed with joy from seeing the kid. Eh, the pain can wait, Sunny thought to himself. 

Lacey’s bright red hair was tied in a ponytail so it was easy enough for Sunny to playfully tug it. “Hey, stop,” she laughed. The girl looked up at Sunny with a big smile- a smile he’d seen so many times over the years but never got old. “I knew you’d come back!”

“Oh of course,” Sunny scoffed, “did somebody say I was gone for good or something?”

A chorus of kids yelling Sunny’s name pulled him away from his adoptive little sister and before he knew it, the rest of his adopted siblings were bounding from the back of the store- many of them still wearing their backpacks. 

“Ah, what- who let you heathens out of school early?!”

There were four kids(besides Lacey) who gathered around for hugs. 

Pete with the glasses.

Johnell with the mohawk. 

Amber with the braids.

And of course, Tiny Dalton. 

Sunny hugged them all one by one and asked where Mama Diane was. As if summoned by the mention of her name, the owner of the shop and the woman who’d shown Sunny love when nobody else would, appeared from the back with a big smile on her face. 

Diane Haines looked immaculate for her age. Rich brown skin, deep brown eyes with dark freckles underlying them. Her shining curls were outlined in white strands- the only byproduct of time that was visible on the fifty year-old woman as of yet. Sunny smiled at her over the other kids and instantly felt like he was fifteen again, coming home from a day of work. The world droned away while she approached and for the first time since crossing the gate, Sunny was truly glad to be home. 

“Hey, mama,” Sunny winked.

“Hey, Sunshine,” Diane chuckled, weaving through her other adopted kids to hug Sunny. He wanted to cry when he smelled her perfume. He hugged her back tightly, ignoring the pain in his chest. “I told them you’d be back,” she winked at him. 

“Back home? Can’t keep me away,” Sunny laughed. 

“Okay kids, break it up,” Diane waved at the children. “Lacey, back on the register until Stevie gets back from lunch, please. Everybody else, homework. Right now. You’ll get time with Sunny when you’re done.”

“Yeah, I’m back, guys. You’ll get your chance to hang out and ask me a bunch of annoying ass questions, I promise.”

Diane smacked his arm, “Don’t cuss at my babies.”

The kids dispersed- Lacey back to the register while the others grabbing seats in the corner of the restaurant to peel their backpacks open and get started on their homework. 

Diane’s Eatery was a well-known little snack shop on the East Side of The Rows- a large, older and less hi-tech section of Dyson City. The shop was most celebrated for it’s array of gourmet popcorn from the bar where you could get as many flavors in one of the bags as you liked. Jimmy, Diane’s only birth son helped with the cooking while the kids Diane took in often helped out around the shop for some extra spending money. 

Diane lead Sunny to the back office that connected to the apartment she lived in with the kids and her wife, Katrina. Sunny grabbed one of the office chairs and sat down in it, playfully rolling into Diane’s desk. 

“So, mama, mother of many, how’s it goin?”

Diane smirked, “Don’t ‘so mama’ me, what happened?”

Sunny feigned shock. “Mama Diane, am I not allowed to come home, you know, to where the heart is? Does it have to because of some disaster?”

“She fucked you, didn’t she?” Diane crossed her arms. 

“Oh, many times,” Sunny bucked his eyebrows. 

“Don’t be nasty! You know what I mean. What happened?”

Sunny felt it was okay to beat around the bush for the time being, to stop himself from breaking down in front of her- no matter how much he wanted to. She had so much to deal with already and the last thing Sunny wanted to do was add to her plate. “It just didn’t work out, mama. You can go ahead and say I told you so.”

“You know that’s not what I’m about. I just want to see you safe and happy. That girl was never gonna let you be either of those.”

She was right… Of course she was right. She’d been right when Sunny told her that he was going away with Mia in the first place. Hell, she’d been right when he first met Mia six years ago. “Yeah…”

“Baby, I know you feel like you need somebody to be there for you, and that’s perfectly understandable. But you need somebody who’s gonna support you, who’s gonna be in your corner, and who’s not gonna take any of your shit. You can’t force somebody to be that. You just have to be patient.”

“You’re right,” Sunny brushed his hair back and sighed, leaning back in the seat.

“You look hurt, why you holding yourself like that?”

“Just sore. A long ride on the train back into the city.”

“Oh you have got to be kidding me…”

“Yeah, we didn’t exactly split on the best of terms. Anyways, I’m just glad to be back home.”

Diane looked at him with that stare, that look full of sympathy and love. “You want to stay for dinner tonight?”

“Maybe some other time, I just want to get home and shower and sleep.”

“Okay baby. You want your piece back, at least?”

“Sure do,” Sunny smiled. Diane reached under the desk and produced the lock box that held his handgun. She unhooked a key from her necklace and slid both across the desk to him. Sunny pulled his duffel bag into his lap and shook it. 

“Brought something for you,” he winked.

“From one of your desert stashes?” Diane bit into a carrot she produced from a plastic container. From the looks of it, Sunny had caught her on her lunch break. 

“Yep, figured we could use it in the future fund here,” Sunny unzipped the bag and produced several stacks of cash tied together by rubber bands. “Should be about three grand, there. Trade ya.”

Sunny gave her the money and zipped the rest back up. While Diane counted, Sunny unlocked the box to see his Beretta Cougar 8040 in its holster, his spare magazines resting beneath it. He pulled the pistol from its holster and checked to make sure it was empty. He stared down at it, glad to have the reassuring weight back in his hand. The original pistol was first manufactured 181 years ago, but Beretta brought back the design just thirty years ago as part of a legacy line. There weren’t many of them from that legacy line on the streets, but Sunny was glad to have his.

“Yep, three grand it is. I’ll add it to the fund. Thank you, baby.”

“No problem,” Sunny loaded a magazine into the gun, engaged the safety and holstered it, standing up and clipping the holster to the back of his belt. He put the spare magazines in the duffel bag and hoisted it on his shoulder, trying not to wince. “My car’s still here, right?”

With a mouthful of sandwich, Diane nodded and pointed to the wall behind her where a hook for keys was. Sunny crossed over and plucked his car key off the hook. Diane covered her mouth with her hand and snapped, “It’s out back.”

“Thank you, mama. I’ll see you later,” Sunny leaned down and kissed the woman’s forehead. Making sure he had everything he needed, he opened to door to the apartment and slid through.

“Call me!”

“I will, say hi to Katrina for me,” Sunny waved and closed the door behind him. 

In the garage behind Diane’s Eatery, Sunny rounded the corner and almost teared up when he saw his car safe and sound where he left it. The Briggs Wayfarer wasn’t the most sporty or even new car, but Sunny fell in love with it the moment he saw it when he was 16. The boxy look fit his tastes and the bright blue paint with white accents gave the car more personality than it’s brethren at the lot Sunny bought it from. It was about nine years old, but he’d taken good care of it, which also meant he’d installed bullet proof windows and paneling inside the chassis for when work got heated. 

Sunny unlocked the car with the fob and climbed in. The familiar feel of the seats made him instantly feel at home. He checked the dashboard and the passenger seat before twisting around to look in the back.

“Oh, baby, I missed you,” he smiled. Sunny tossed the duffel bag in the back seat and started the car to a healthy rumble. He couldn’t help but laugh in joy. “Yep, Mama Katrina took good care of it, didn’t she? Sounds good as new.”

The car’s navigation system blinked on and the console beeped to life. The welcome message scrolled across the screen and Sunny re-synched the car back to his watch before scrolling through his music options, picking a song and pulling out of the garage. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Tag List:

@writerinafury @oneleggedflamingo @carmina-solis @anomaly00 @neirawrites @lnspired-insomniac

[coffeekaspbrak]

Pictures of you- chapter one

For proper spacing visit my ao3 chapter 2 is already up there!

Eddie climbed the stairs to his apartment with dread weighing heavy on his body, that and the water that soaked his clothes. It had been a long day of driving and dealing with passengers, all while trying to navigate New York City through the rain. Getting his limo app service off the ground proved to be great for business, but not so great for his sanity. On the way to pick to one of his ever so gracious customers, he’d been rear ended by some asshole going 50 in an area with a speed limit of 30. He couldn’t slow down fast enough for a red light and ended up hitting Eddie’s limo. Eddie had jolted forward, his chest hitting the steering wheel. His breathing became short and rapid as his heart raced, the signs of an oncoming Asthma attack. He reached for his inhaler in the glove compartment and pulled on the trigger with a shaking hand. He was so stunned for a minute or so, he couldn’t get out of the car. Until the man who had hit him came out of his car; shouting and banging on Eddie’s window, saying he should’ve seen him coming.

As ridiculous as that accusation was, the man was reasonable enough to exchange his information with Eddie. The incident hadn’t caused any lethal damage, but the bumper of the limo was now wonky and dented. It wasn’t too terrible, but appearance is very important in his business. Presentation is important in every aspect of life, his mother had often told him. Eddie had it hauled away to the nearest auto shop and opted to walk home in the rain rather than give his money to one of those big cooperate car apps. He was too prideful for that, if nothing else.

He scaled the final step, a little bit winded, and pushed the key into the door of his apartment. It’s not too small. The realtor had described it as, “Cozy for a couple.” But the shades of paint and furniture they’d picked out for the space made Eddie feel like he was being suffocated. He took in his surroundings with a small sigh. Despite its comfy couches and cabinets filled with his clothes and belongings, Eddie always had to make some what of a mental effort to establish it as his home. Slipping off his shoes and shaking his jacket off, he heard the faint sound of weeping coming from the living room. Softly, he tip toed over and ducked his head into the room,

“Myra?” He asked with caution. “Oh Eddie!” She jumped to her feet, voice screeching in it’s high pitch, “thank god!”

She wrapped herself around Eddie in a death grip that would rival that of cobra’s. His hands sat at his side stiffly before his better judgment kicked in and he moved them to rub circles on her back. She untangled herself from him after a moment, “Where were you and why weren’t you answering your phone?” Her was voice demanding and whiny, Eddie cringed at the sound.

“You know I can’t have your notifications on while I drive, sweetie. It’s bad for business.”

This only caused Myra to pout more, “You’re supposed to pull over to text me every hour Eddie! We talked about this!”

“Yes,” he mumbles, “but-“

“No, Eddie!” he didn’t think her voice could get any louder, “I could’ve had heart attack! I thought you might’ve died! And there was an emergency!”

Eddie’s heart stopped how the fuck does she know already? Oh Christ almighty, she’s not going to let you go anywhere now. Good fuckin goin, Kasp- “Eddie!” Myra ran back over to him again, wrapping a large arm around him, “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to scare you! Where’s your inhaler?”

Eddie hadn’t even noticed that his breathing had become heavy while his brain was spiraling. She reached a hand into his pocket and fished out his inhaler, holding it to his lips. Eddie took a puff, as his fiancé continued rambling on. “I should’ve known not to use that word with you, I know how delicate you are. But it really was, something really bad happened.”

“Is that why you were crying?” Eddie asked, knowing his fiancé has the tendency for the dramatics. He can never gauge how serious the problem is just from her reaction. She nodded, “Oh Eddie, it’s so horrible! I could cry even more!”

“No!” His shouted a little too quickly, “No, just tell me what happened, Marty.” “I got a call from the photographer.”

“And?” Eddie could see that she’s starting to tear up again, but she blurts out the words before they can fall. “They pulled out of the wedding! They said they had something else booked that day. I don’t know how that’s even possible! We scheduled this months ago!” She exclaimed, hugging Eddie tightly again and crying into his shoulder. He let her sob for a while before attempting to reason with her, “I know. It’s okay, hey, it’s alright. We can get a new one, they are plenty in the city.”

“That’s no excuse! They should’ve had it together! And where are we going to find a photographer that will work on such short notice? Oh it’s all falling apart, Eddie! This is a disaster!” She shouted, too close to Eddie’s ear. “No! Hey,” he met her eyes, red and puffy from crying, “We’ll find one, I promise. We can go and look tomorrow.”

“Eddie! I have a dress fitting tomorrow!”

“Alright, Myra calm down. I will go and look tomorrow, I can’t drive the limo anyway.”

Shit.

“What’s wrong with the limo?”

“Oh just needs an oil change and some other tune ups you know. I gotta give the riders the best treatment, right?” He felt bad for lying, but he would feel worse telling her the truth. She worries. And he worries about what will happen to him if she worries any more than she already does.

She nodded into his shoulder.

“Okay, why don’t you go to bed and I’ll meet you there?”

“I love you, Eddie-bear,” she mumbled gently.

Eddie doesn’t think about his response, he learned not to long ago.

“I love you too, Marty.”

Myra releases him and walks over to their bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

Eddie sighs deeply once she is out of sight, running his hands over his eyes. He lets the oxygen reach his whole body before plopping down on the couch, defeatedly.

He just sits exhausted there for a while, before rising and walking to the bathroom to shower. He lets the warm water comfort him and lets it run maybe a bit too long as he stands underneath it.

He exits the shower and heads for the medicine cabinet. He finds the melatonin, (among a heap of other things) and pops a few into his mouth. The stress of planing a wedding had been taking its toll on his sleep. Ever since the night of the engagement, Eddie hadn’t gotten a full night of rest. Even in times of relative calm, restlessness plagued him as he tossed and turned in his bed. Tonight was no different.

He lets his eyes find his future wife taking up more than her side in bed, and crawls in warily beside her. He stared up at the ceiling a long while, thinking about everything and nothing.

He is woken up several times during the night, not to his surprise.

-

Eddie wakes up the next morning to find a note on the kitchen table, Off to the fitting! Only 62 more days! Love you! -Myra

That number sat heavy in his chest as he made himself coffee and opened his laptop to begin looking for a new photographer. The first page on google was companies with enough money to afford to put ads there. He figured they’d all be booked and when he calls, that suspicion is confirmed. One man even laughs into the phone obnoxiously when Eddie tells him the date of the wedding.

That’s how he spends majority of the morning, hunched over his laptop as concern pulls on the lines of his face. He nearly pulls all his hair out while on the phone with countless photography studios. All booked that day.

He’s on the fourth page of google, sporting a defeated expression when something finally takes. Richie Tozier Photography. There’s a number on the website header and Eddie calls without a second thought, not expecting much.

It rings twice before someone, groggy sounding, picks up. “Hello?” A scratchy voice asks. Eddie isn’t sure he’s got the right guy.

“Um Hi, I might have the wrong number is this Richie Tozier?”

“As you live and breathe,” the voice, Richie apparently, answered. Skeptical, he attempted to clarify, “The photographer?”

“Yeah huh,” He responded causally.

A bit too casually for Eddie’s liking. But he A bit too casually for Eddie’s liking. But he didn’t have a whole lot of options at this point. Fuck it, he thought, this might be all there is. The guy’s just gotta show up and take pictures right? With a sharp inhale Eddie asks, “Do you have any availability June 5th? I know it’s pretty soon.”

The other line hummed for a moment, “What’s the occasion?”

“My wedding.”

“Damn. Guess you’re not a planner then huh.”

“Excuse me I’ll have you kn-“ The voice chuckled, “I’m just messing with you, man. What’s your name?”

“Eddie Kaspbrak,” He hummed again, “Well, I might have somethin open just for you Eds.”

“That’s not my na-“ “Do you have a venue?”

Eddie scoffed, frankly sort of offended “Well, yeah of course,”

“Can you text me the address?”“Yes bu-“

The man on the phone clicked his tongue, “Mkay, cool. See if you can schedule something there so we can meet and I can check out the lighting and stuff.”

Eddie was a little dumbfounded at the gall this “Richie” seemed to have. “Um, okay,”

“Alright, see ya around then, Eddie spaghetti,” and before he could say anything about the nickname, he heard the phone click ending the call. Eddie sat in the wake of the phone call, a little disoriented to say the least. His laptop still had Richie’s website open and there was tab labeled “portfolio” on the top of the page. He clicked it reluctantly.

It was a layout of three pictures per row, and there were several rows. It was similar to an instagram feed, you could click on each picture to enlarge it and scroll. The first picture struck him: it was a girl with short red curls laying in a field, one hand across her chest and her eyes closed. She had a flower tucked on her ear, a white carnation, complementing a splattering of reddish freckles on her face. The golden light of the sunset behind her highlighted her long, reddish brown lashes. She looked beautiful. Eddie scrolled to see more.

A boy, muscular and tall, sitting inside a coffee shop, the picture being taken outside of it. It struck Eddie as a little weird if the photographer didn’t know this guy, but it was an amazing photo none the less. The background seemed faded as the man stared straight ahead out the window. The photo caught light of the man’s eyes; he was clearly pondering something as he peered longingly at something unseen to everyone but himself. He scrolled through several more of the photos, more featuring those two subjects. There were a few that looked to be graduation parties or other gatherings of the sort, but no weddings. That made him a little anxious, but clearly this Richie guy had some skill with the camera.

He was intrigued if nothing else.

Tag list: @white-duvet @beep-beep-eds @takealottodragmeawayfromreddie @kat-ships @jalenrose1122 @fandoms-caused-my-death @addimagination @richieshawaiianshirts @reddie-boi

(Let me know if you want to be tagged in the other chaps!)

[rusticpumpkin-blog]

Beyond Love | Paul Lahote | 1 |

Kathryn Swan was a girl who loved her family but in a matter of seconds, her old life was taken away from her. Broken and permanently scarred she moves in with the only family she has left her uncle Charlie. Now she's faced with changes she didn't even think possible.

A Paul Lahote love story.

(This takes place 2 years after the end of breaking dawn pt 2)

|Previous|----|Next|

Everything is exactly the same way I remember it being 5 years ago, from the way the furniture in the living room was positioned to the stacks of VHS tapes that were under the TV in the entertainment center. It kind of hurt the way that things are so constant here. Like nothing happened. But that was the way it was Bella had warned me about it, nothing here changes, it never does.

It still rains too much, making everything seem dismal even in the house that had dim lights that were probably older than me. I scoffed at the thought because I knew that couldn’t be true… about all of the bulbs in the house anyway.

There were old photos on the wall that seemed to have been recently dusted of Bella, Aunt Renee, and Uncle Charlie hung up probably years and years ago before Rene left and went somewhere sunny. Somewhere like where I came from. Even the bright smiles in most of the photos that I still remembered from my childhood weren’t enough to make the room any lighter but maybe that was just me… it’s been hard lately.  

"Bellas old room?" I sighed as Charlie walked in behind me having some issues with the suitcase he offered to carry for me, it was mostly clothes, a few art supplies but the size of it and the muddy ground that he didn’t want it to touch was what made it difficult.

He nodded out of breath, "I'm goin to order a pizza the drive back took longer than I thought it would." He said sitting the luggage down so I could grab the handle and wheel it towards the stairs.

I nodded pizza sounded good, something quick and easy that doesn’t make awkward dinner table conversations obligatory. "Is there anything that you won't eat?" He asked I could tell that this change was going to be awkward for him, but he was trying harder than he wanted me to realize. So I decided that I'm going to try to make this whole situation as easy as possible, for both of us.

"Not really, sardines but if you want them I can just pick them off." I shrugged as he handed me my other duffel bag and I started up the stairs. "No one eats sardines and enjoys it." He said trying to make a joke and I laughed at it, even though it sucked.

"In the morning we can run out and get things that you might need if you want." He offered. "I'm not a morning person." I muttered shrugging before continuing, "But thanks for the offer, I think I'm good. If I figure anything that I really need I'll let you know." I assured him, he nodded seeming to understand that I just wanted to go to bed and I was thankful for that.

Bella's old room is smaller than the one I had back at home. like everything in this house from the magnates on the fridge to the boots lined on the wall by the front door, everything in here was in the same place too.

I was too tired to think about rearranging anything tonight, I just dropped my bags on the bare bed and pulled out a pair of sweats and a tank top so that i could go do that thing that over the past few months I've grown to hate.

It’s not that I actually dislike showering but I hate the 'avoid the mirror' game. I had to do it because I would get sick every time I saw myself and what I've been reduced to.

While I was in the hospital and the aftermath of the accident, I've lost almost 50 pounds. I was, to be honest at a healthy weight for my height, the greatest shape I've been in in my life. But the way my once vivid icy grey eyes that I once prided myself on as being my best feature were now dim and gaunt, I had dark circles under them, from a mixture of sleepless and nightmare filled nights. I looked just as sick as I felt when I saw the rest of my skin.

The scars were the worst part, they were what made me really want to not look. They made me hate my own skin but being dragged behind a flipped car on the asphalt for about 50 feet will do that too someone. It could definitely be worse, I could be dead too.

Without even realizing it I was doing it again, staring. That's how I know its hard for other people not to, if I cant not look how can I expect anyone else to?

They ranged from a little over 2 inches wide on my left arm and leg to about 10 inches wide on my side and hip, thick slightly raised scars going down the left side of my body. My head wasn't even untouched, most of my left ear is gone. I have a scar going down my jaw and even light places on my cheek the 'lucky' part about those is that they were light, so makeup would help but nothing would ever take them all the way away. Unless I wanted to get surgery which considering how long I spent at the hospital before meant it wasn’t going to happen for a long time, if at all.

My tawny brown hair was the only thing that really hasn't changed all that much. There was a small patch around my ear that no longer grew and a portion around my ear that had to be buzzed off so I could get staples to hold my scalp shut. My hair looked just as dreary as my eyes it made me look unhealthy but being unhealthy meant I was still alive.

I was lucky

After my shower, I knew the pizza was probably here but I was too tired to care about the rumbling in my stomach at this point. I walked to what was now my room across the hall and lay down on the bed. I had every intention of getting up and going to find a pillow and blanket for myself from the hall closet but I was asleep before I had the chance.

…

I sat a week later, at the kitchen table sipping my coffee and scrolling through my social media feed. Even with me gone all of my friends were still able to function as proper 18-year-olds. Having fun and going to parties without me like it wasn't any different. I'm not going to lie and say that it doesn't hurt that I haven't even gotten any text messages telling me how much they miss me or to check in on me but it is what it is. Things outside of this place change and this is just one of them.

I don't expect to have ‘friends’ until I start working which I don't know how long that's going to be. There are only a few family own businesses in this little town and none of them are hiring right now anyway.

Charlie says that I don't need to worry about working or a job but I do. I don't want to be a financial burden on him after the insurance money stops. If I had been 18 before all this, I wouldn't even have had to move in with him period.

Charlie's been nothing but supportive. In his own awkward way, Bella thinks that its because he's happy that he's not living alone anymore. But I still kinda get the ‘I’m going to be super nice because of the hard time you’ve been having’ vibe off of him.

Speaking of Bella, I haven't got to see her yet. She's went with her own family on a trip to Africa… I think anyway I can't say 100% that I remember what she told me.

My whole life here has been nothing but a haze considering the nightmares have only gotten worse with the change of scenery. More vivid and realistic but it helps me wake up sooner I guess so there's that. I know that Charlie is concerned about them but there's nothing that I can do short of not sleeping at all. Which is what I do if I can help it even if that bothers him too.

"I thought you weren't a morning person." Charlie said walking in and confusing me because I thought he had left for work earlier but he was dressed in a flannel and jeans instead of his police uniform. Thinking about it, since I’ve been here I don’t remember ever seeing him in anything else, it was weird like seeing a teacher in public or something.  

"Couldn't sleep." I muttered shrugging.

"Do you have any plans for today?" He asked knowing full well that I didn't. He just wanted to know if it was ok with me if I got out of the house, which I have yet to do, in a polite way.

"No, whats up?" I asked not looking up from my phone a stale meme looking really interesting all of a sudden.

"A friend of mine is having a barbeque out on the beach in La Push.” He said referring to the Native American reservation that was a 20-minute drive away from here.

"Sounds fun, I love seeing old dudes cook on a grill and argue about football," I said sarcastically rolling my eyes.

"Fireworks and a bonfire, there will be other kids around your age there." He said as if attempting to sell me on the idea, he wasn’t doing a good job, kids my age are assholes. "You remember Jacob Black?" He asked me the name did ring a bell. "I think so," I said remembering a lanky copper skinned boy with pants that were never quite long enough for him but he was always shorter than me. "The kid that you and Bella used to play with." He added attempting to jog my memory.

"That skinny kid?" I scoffed making him bark out a laugh. "Yeah, he's not little anymore." He sighed in a way that made it sound like Jake had gained weight. "Quill and Embry live out there still too?" I asked remembering them too, we’d all been in our own little pack, fighting imaginary sea monsters at the beach (Mostly just clumps of seaweeds that had washed up from high tide).

He nodded. "Alright, I'll be ready in like 2 minutes," I said jogging up stairs.