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trillian-anders · 5 years ago

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four christmases

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

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

word count: 16k

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

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

2018

What a fucking asshole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want triple.”

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

She cried.

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

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

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

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

But it was fine.

It didn’t really matter.

You just wanted to go home.

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

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

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

It doesn’t matter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ransom-��

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

60 mph,

65 mph,

70…

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

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

100

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

105

110

115

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

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

“Take me home.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Give me my keys.”

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

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

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

“Give me-”

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

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

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

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

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

2019

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone.

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

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck he was going to kill you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, would you?” Linda asked again.

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

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

“If Ransom gets house arrest?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You got him regular Trojans.

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

234.72 ETRN-STD

523.50 DRNK

435.62 HAWTHNE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your parents-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More.

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

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

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

“I know Ransom.” He scoffed.

“I’m no better off than you now.”

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

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

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

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

“Marta ruined everything” He whispered into your neck.

“No Ransom, you did.”

2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ransom was disgusting.

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

He was doing this shit on purpose.

And you hated him for it.

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

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

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

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

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

Is she gone yet?

Fucking prick.

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

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

Not leaving, come deal with her yourself

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

Crime of Passion?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wife murders husband?

“I’m gonna write a mystery novel.”

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

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

Ransom was as good as he was, better even.

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

This was promising.

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

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

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

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

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

Eager replies.

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

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

...and yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Every. Night.

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

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

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

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

“Where’s the fun in that?” Asshole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was nice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why are you going to-”

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

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

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

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

“I know.” He swallowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t ask you to.”

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

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

Fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It never gets old.

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

Early morning sleepy soft kisses, I love you.

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

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

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

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

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

It was intense. His love for you.

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

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

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

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

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

He’d bought you a house.

He’s paying for your sisters school.

He’s paying you to still work for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God he is beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay!” Annoyed this time.

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

love you too

With that you went to rouse the sleeping man upstairs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TAGLIST //

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

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

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2seokfan · 4 years ago

Text

Scarlet & Hazel | Ch. 3

pairings: hoseok x reader x yoongi

genre: fluff, very light angst, smut (future)

word count: 6k

chapters: ch.1, ch.2, ch.3. ch.4

summary:

Just cause you’re living paycheck to paycheck in a tiny apartment even after graduating college doesn’t mean you’re not happy. So what if your best friend is working her dream job making close to six figures every year? So what if she’s in a loving, committed relationship with her perfect boyfriend that you’re 99% sure is going to propose to her sometime next year? It doesn’t matter that your idea of a perfect relationship is a $9.99 bottle of wine on Friday nights while you binge watch Netflix specials.

Ok so maybe you’re a teensy bit miserable. Maybe you have no idea what you’re doing with your life. Maybe all you need to do is accidentally cross paths with two hybrids who will drastically change that.

Meet “Scarlet” and “Hazel”, two of the most gorgeous hybrid men you have ever laid eyes on. With their help, you learn that life is an adventure, a roller-coaster with ups and downs, and you were too preoccupied with yourself to climb out of your own predicament. And hey, you’re not much of a romantic, but with these two, you just might change your mind.

a/n: Hello, Jun here! Whew this took a while to write but thank you for your patience!! (poor Y/N still doesn’t know their real names but maybe she’ll find out soon?) Any feedback is appreciated <3

tag list: @wilhelminalucinda @ghostkat23 @ayoo-bangtan @sadgurllayha

2 months later.

August is relentless. You’re sweaty all the time and you have no choice but the crank up the a/c every single day. This heat wave is incredibly brutal because all you want to do is stay at home eating ice cream in your underwear but instead you’re stuck working overtime to pay for what you assume will be a record-high electricity bill. Fuck you global warming.

It’s currently Tuesday. You’re on lunch break at work, chowing down on a falafel wrap and scrolling through your phone, when a text pops up from Karli.

Karli: Don’t forget!

You: ???

Karli: This friday?

You scratch your head. Wtf?

You: What’s on friday?

Karli: Umm the date? Remember?

No you didn’t. Your dumbass actually forgot about a whole date. You can’t believe yourself. Karli finally set you up with that accountant guy from her job. What’s his name again? Brad? Brandon?

You: oh yeah! my bad haha

Karli: You forgot his name didn’t you?

You: …maybe

Karli: Lol it’s Bryce sweetie

Karli: He’s really sweet! Just give it a shot

You: of course i will

You: i’ll turn up my maximum charm

Karli: Dats my girlllll

Karli: Ugh gtg it’s my boss

Karli: Bye!

You: bye babe

You set your phone down, trying to envision this upcoming Friday. Karli mentioned she gave Bryce your phone number, and he’ll text you sometime this week about your date, so at least you don’t have to make any moves first. She did show you his picture though, being the wingman that she is by stalking all his social media just for you. You’ve gotta admit he is cute, the profile picture showed him sporting a casual smile, with blonde hair and blue eyes. The classic boy-next-door look.

“And he’s most likely not a serial killer!” You remember her declaring a few weeks ago, after scrolling through all his tweets. And when you say all his tweets you mean EVERY Single tweet from when he created his account in high school till now. Your best friend does not fuck around.

“Thanks I appreciate that. Glad he’ll ‘most likely’ not kill me.” You rolled your eyes and grinned at her.

While you munch away the rest of your lunch, you think about how you just aren’t acting like yourself lately. In any other circumstance, you would’ve found yourself more excited for the date. Hell, in any other circumstance you would’ve at LEAst remembered his name, or thought about what to wear by now, or even stalked his social media along with Karli. There’s just a teensy problem though. See, in the past few months you happen to have met two boys who completely changed your standards in men. And you may have maybe developed the tiniest crush on both of them, at the same time. Like how?? You didn’t think you were physically capable of doing that?

You sigh, staring at the rest of your falafel wrap, and force yourself to accept reality. As much as you adore them, you know that your little crush will be completely unreciprocated. This you found out through your group chat, now named ‘Hazel’s Nuts’ (courtesy of Scarlet). It’s not that you confessed to them or anything, they just happened to let slip to you one day that they’re a mated pair. And hybrids mate for life, so they take that shit very seriously. Although this news stung a little, it didn’t cause you to be envious in any way. At the end of the day, crush or not, you’re just glad you have two more people in your life you can confidently call your close friends.

For the past two months you’ve actively kept up with them. Sometimes you’ll send memes back and forth all night, sometimes you’ll group call each other after work. Every once in a while, when they’re not busy doing whatever it is they’re doing, they facetime you. These are your favorite moments because you get to see them in all their attractive glory. Just because they don’t like you that way doesn’t mean a girl can’t deny herself some eye candy.

You guys never run out of things to talk about. Each day you check the group chat and it’ll be popping. Your topics range from the movie that just came out, restaurants they discovered, to even discussing new criminal cases (you got Hazel into watching true crime Youtube videos and now he’s entirely hooked). Sometimes you just sit back and watch the two boys bicker back and forth. It’s hysterical how they decide to argue through text since you’re sure both of them are probably in the same room together, but you appreciate them keeping you in the loop.

At this point they’ve already virtually met Karli. She’s been in the background of one or two of your facetimes. You’re glad she approves of them instantly and you wonder if it has a little something to do with their, especially Scarlet’s, boyish charms. She does keep you grounded though, never failing to mention how it’s suspicious that you don’t know their real names yet.

“I don’t think they mean any harm and they seem genuinely nice,” she had reassured, “But you gotta admit not telling you their names is a little sketch.”

You just shrugged. “They have their reasons.”

Internally you do believe she has a point. Even though you don’t want to force information out of the boys, you’re a naturally curious person. Your mind has already compiled a list of all the unusual facts you’ve discovered about them.

A couple of things have become clear to you over the span of the last few months. The most important fact is that although they share tons of content with you, you still have no idea what they do for a living. You’re also 90% sure they don’t have an owner since there’s never anyone else around them. Another, more interesting fact is that you suspect they’re actually pretty wealthy. Every time you facetime, they’re in some sort of lavish looking hotel penthouse, with fancy furniture and artwork hanging in the background. They also dress designer, occasionally flashing their Balenciaga hats, or little Gucci necklaces, or other fancy logos your peasant-ass is unfamiliar with. You actually googled one of Hazel’s t-shirts from your most recent facetime, having no idea what the FG logo stood for. You remember your eyes bulging out of your head after discovering his plain white shirt with two black letters cost more than $200. TWO HUNDred dollars?!!! Do you know how much food and gas you could buy with $200? Why in the fuck would he spend that much on a shirt??

If only you knew how much their watches cost.

Friday rolls around faster than you can blink and before you know it, you’re rushing home from work to get ready. Bryce texted you for the first time on Wednesday to see if you wanted sushi (hell yeah you did) and you were fortunate enough to notify your boss so you could be let out early. You’ve been such a work horse the last few months that they had no choice but to let you leave in advance.

So far Bryce seems nice enough but you can’t get a proper gauge of his character through text. Oh well, guess you’ll find out tonight.

The sushi place you’re meeting at is on the fancier side, and includes a bar. Knowing yourself, if there’s a bar, there’s no car, which means you won’t be driving. The last thing you want is to leave your car parked somewhere sketchy overnight cause you accidentally got too tipsy to drive. You like to think you have some semblance of control but it’s always better to be safe than sorry.

You were let out at 4, which means you have only 2 hours to get ready. As soon as you get home you sprint to your closet at lightning speed. You rummage through your drawers, hoping to find something, ANYthing, that’s appropriate for this occasion. For one quick second, your eyes dart to your forbidden drawer, aka the ho drawer. It contains the remains of your slutty party dresses and tops from college. Being the hoarder that you are, you never like throwing away things, even if you have no need for them anymore. Wait, what the hell am I thinking? You snap your eyes back to the rest of your closet. You’re going for sushi, not to dance at some club. Besides, you have no intention of sleeping with anyone tonight.

After an hour of deciding on a suitable outfit you finally start on your makeup. Your work makeup has dried up, and now feels gross and cakey on your face, so you remove it all and start anew. At least you had the decency to shower this morning so your hair isn’t too gross.

The place is around a 10 minute Uber ride away but you took your sweet ass time getting ready so now you’re in a frenzy. When your phone buzzes, signaling your driver is here, you swipe on some lipstick last minute, grab some chunky heels, and practically fly out the door.

You stare out the window of your ride, wondering why you’re lowkey wishing you could spend Friday night at home watching tv instead, or even just spending the evening facetiming two hot hybrids. This all feels a little too rushed. But no, you shake your head and attempt to hype yourself up. C’mon Y/N this is the first real date you’ve been on in ages. At least TRy and be a little more motivated.

The car pulls up and you thank the driver, stepping out into the warm night air. August is still hot, even in the evenings, and you’re glad you didn’t bring a cardigan. Bryce has already texted you, letting you know he was inside, sitting at your reserved spot. You take a deep breath. Ok, time to put on your game face. You strut in, trying your very best to push the faces of two very good-looking friends out of your mind.

You spot Bryce in a corner, head buried in his phone, his wavy blonde hair not easy to miss. You slide in the seat across from him, prompting him to quickly look up and flash you an easygoing smile.

“Hello there!”

“Hi!” You chuckle nervously. “I hope I’m not too late.”

“Not all all!” He slides his phone back in his pocket, smile still on his face. “You’re just in time.”

A waiter comes by and you both take your orders. You make sure to order a drink because you have a feeling you’ll need the liquid courage to strike up more conversation. Maybe some sake will help ease you.

The first couple minutes are kinda awkward, not gonna lie. Bryce tries to get you to talk about work and you do answer him, but honestly work is the last thing you want to discuss right now. You try to shift the conversation to his job, but that only ends up being worse as he quickly launches into the ins and outs of life as an accountant. Maybe your two hybrids friends have spoiled you because you barely remember the last time you had to fill empty space with small talk.

When the food comes you quietly sigh a breath of relief, hoping the sushi in front of you will help you both get settled and give you time to think of more interesting topics to talk about.

“So,” you wrack your brain, “let’s get to know each other more! Like, what’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” That’s got to be a safe enough question.

“Hm, I’m actually more of a yogurt kinda guy, ice cream’s not really my thing.”

You freeze, California roll halfway to your mouth. Ok, ok, cool, cool. So he doesn’t like ice cream, that’s fine. You sweat a little. Hurry Y/N think of something else to ask.

“Yeah, I guess that’s not everybody’s thing.” You grimace. “Then what about, i don’t know, cookies? What’s your favorite kinda cookie?”

“Actually I prefer crackers, you know, like the saltine ones? Cookies can be too sweet sometimes.” He’s devouring his dragon roll, not noticing the panic in your eyes. He’s caught you off guard twice today.

This isn’t going well and you’re genuinely surprised because you know Karli has done her research, certain that you two would get along. Guess life really likes to throw you some curveballs.

Who the fuck prefers crackers over cookies anyway?? Ok. Code red! Change the fucking subject before the silence becomes unbearable. Your dessert-related ice breakers had never failed you before but there’s always a first for everything, you guess.

You take a generous swig of sake. “Right, crackers are... good.” You’re mumbling at this point. “Ok, um, what about hobbies? Got any?” Please throw me a fucking bone here! Your mind is reeling but externally you try to act calm and composed, dabbing at the corner or you mouth delicately with a napkin.

“Oh yeah!” His face lights up. Oh thank god. “Do you like football? Me and my buddies at the office sorta formed this team, and we play against other departments. It’s really fun! You should come by and watch sometime!”

“Uh, sure!” Football. Huh. The last time you were anywhere near a football was when you met someone from your college team at a bar. Well he wasn’t holding a football per se, but that counts right? You only remember how much of a douche he was, trying to hit on one of the girls from your group after getting entirely too wasted.

“Awesome! I’ll hit you up when the next game is set!” It’s almost impressive how he doesn’t notice all the tension emitting from your body. In fact, you have a feeling he’s actually enjoying himself and your company.

The rest of the dinner goes by in the same manner. With him happily answering all your questions and you slowly discovering just how little you both have in common.

He is a gentleman though, that you can’t deny. When all the food has been cleared away he immediately swoops in to pay the bill, ignoring your insistence at paying for your half at least. He really isn’t a bad person, just the opposite. Besides your difference in interests, he is a sweet guy overall, and you do find him to be physically attractive. There’s just no spark, no silver lining that keeps you wanting more. When you both get out of your seats he offers to drive you back to your place but you politely decline. You say it’s because you don’t want to trouble him but in reality you need space for yourself to think.

As soon as you arrive home you take off your shoes and plop yourself down on the couch, running your hands through your hair. You check your phone, a few notifications from ‘Hazel’s Nuts’ popping up.

Scarlet: Do you think she’s done with her date yet??

Hazel: Hey Y/N how was it?

You had told them about this date beforehand and they were excited to root for you, which did bruise your ego a bit since it reaffirmed your unreturned attraction to them, but also prompted you to go through with it. This last notification was from 45 minutes ago but you couldn’t reply since you were still at dinner.

You: hi I just got back!

You don’t expect them to respond right away but to your surprise:

Scarlet: And???

You: it was meh

Hazel: That bad huh?

You: no nothing like that!

You: he’s really cute and all, it’s just we basically have nothing in common

Scarlet: Aww poor Y/N (sad emojis)

Hazel: Hey happens to the best of us

Hazel: Actually I wouldn’t know cause I’ve only been with fox boy

You: thanks anyway, i appreciate it Hazel

Maybe it’s cause you’re a little tipsy, or maybe you just feel so open and vulnerable around them tonight, but the next text you send is especially honest.

You: ughhh idk guys i’m just so lonely!!! why can’t things just work out for me for once! Like the first real date I go on in years and this happens :(

They don’t respond for a long time. So long in fact you start to get worried that you exposed too much about yourself.

15 minutes pass by but to you it feels like hours. You’ve already removed all your makeup and changed into your pajama shirt. You relocate to your bed, checking your phone again, thinking of a way to play off your last text as a joke when:

Hazel: If you’re so lonely maybe you could adopt?

You grin to yourself, glad that they’re not being judgmental. Their concern for you resets your mood.

You: ha ha you know my apartment doesn’t allow pets

You: but honestly if i could i would, cause i’d definitely get a little kitty

Hazel: I’m flattered

You: thanks but i meant a real cat

Hazel: Either way i’m flattered

Scarlet: HEY what about foxes??

You: pretty sure owning a pet fox is illegal here Scar

Scarlet: (angry emojis)

Hazel: You heard what the lady said

You: anyways i’m going to bed

You: thanks for making me feel better guys <3

Hazel: Anytime

Scarlet: But hypothetically if foxes weren’t illegal you’d get a pet fox right??

You: of course i would sweetie

Scarlet: (happy emojis)

Scarlet: Yay!!! Goodnight Y/N!

Hazel: Night Y/N

You: night boys

You wake up next morning on your own time, checking your phone to see that you slept in till 11am. Wow, you haven’t slept that well in a while. Maybe it’s the stress from the previous weeks of non stop working, or the pressure to maintain your composure last night, but either way you knocked out like a rock. You sit up, lean back, and stretch your arms as far as they can go.

Today you’re meeting Karli at her place up north. She couldn’t ask you about last night since she was occupied, her seven year anniversary with her boyfriend Sunny coinciding with your date. But she assured you a couple days ago over facetime that today was going to be a girl’s day, no boyfriend included.

“Hey!” Sunny had popped out of nowhere in the video when he heard the news, a look of mock shock on his face. “I live here too! So what, you're just gonna kick me out of the house and leave me on the streets to starve?”

“My god stop being dramatic!” Karli had shoved him playfully off the screen. “I need girl time with Y/N and it’s not girl time if you’re in the house.”

“I can be one of the girls! Right Y/N?” He sounded betrayed.

“I know you can but I’m not the one who makes the rules.” You pointed out.

He sighed. “You got me there.”

Since you’re just spending time at Karli’s and getting takeout, you felt zero need to dress up. You washed your face, threw on an oversized t-shirt some old hookup left at your place (hey it was cute) and some tights, and tied your hair out of your face. This entire process took less than 30 minutes and next thing you know you’re ready to head out.

You sent Karli a quick text, letting her know you’re on the way. You grab a bottle of prosecco, your purse, and keys, saying a quick goodbye to your roommate Ayah on your way out. She gives you a small wave, reminding you that she, yet again, has to leave today for a whole week. You backtrack to give her a quick goodbye hug, telling her to drive safe, before you take off.

Karli’s place isn’t as far as the beach coffeehouse you frequent, but it’s still located in the wealthier side of town. The drive lasts a good 20 minutes but it feels a lot faster since you spend the whole time singing along to your favorite songs.

You pull up to Karli’s apartment complex, driving yourself to the guest parking space. Her apartment building is pretty tall, with a distant, but gorgeous view of the beach.

Karli squeals when she opens the door, immediately giving you a big hug. When you break apart you hold up the bottle of prosecco in your hand, waving it in front of her face.

“I know you have the ingredients here so let’s make some spritz!”

“Yay!”

Aperol spritz is your favorite at-home drink to make with Karli. She had gone on a short trip to Italy in the summer between her two years at grad school and tried the drink there, completely falling in love. She googled the recipe, made it for you one day, you had said “Oh FUck that’s good!”, and the rest is history.

She grabs the bottle and quickly relocates it to her kitchen. Her energy levels are sky high today and you wonder what’s got her so elated. She’s skipping everywhere she goes, there’s a permanent smile etched on her face, and she’s humming non stop as she pulls you away from the front entrance.

Sunny emerges from the hallway, two hands in the air in surrender.

“I’m heading out, I swear!”

Sunny is a big teddy bear of a man, with tattoos splayed across his arms and a well-kept beard. There’s a term you learned online called ‘lumbersexual’ and that’s exactly the word to describe Sunny. He almost reminds you of Jason Momoa, the actor who played Aquaman. Those who just meet him think he looks intimidating at first but once you get past his height and size, you see just how much of a softie he is. He’s also extremely intelligent, working somewhere in the computer industry developing software.

Karli bounds over to him and gives him a big snuggly hug and tiptoes all the way up to give a quick kiss to his lips.

“Have fun babe! Love you!”

“Love you too! Also bye Y/N!”

“Bye Sunny have fun!” You smile as he treads out the door.

You both head to the kitchen and start making your drinks.

“Aren’t you extra chipper today!” You mention as you pour a splash of club soda into your glass.

“Am I?” She doesn’t look at you, wearing a mysterious grin, stirring her mixture with a straw.

After you both finish making your drinks, you head to her living room and settle onto her plush sofa.

Karli yawns, almost too dramatically, covering her left hand over her mouth. You quirk your eyebrow at her, wondering why she’s acting so weird until you spot it. There’s something large, something shiny, on her left ring finger.

“Oh my god….” Your entire mouth hangs open. “Oh my GOD!!! Is THAT…?”

“Yep!”

“Did HE -?”

“Yep!!”

“AND YOU - ?

“YEP I DID!!”

“YOU’RE ENGAGED?!?!?!”

“I KNOW!!!!”

What happens after is a shriek rivaling that of a pterodactyl taking flight after spotting prey, except the sound is just the two of you screaming and jumping up and down in Karli’s living room.

You bring her into a tight hug, so emotional that you’re about to tear up. And you’re not one to cry that easily.

“I’m so happy for you!” You pull apart and wipe a stray tear from your cheek.

“Thank you! I’m so happy too!” Her smile is also a little watery. “Like I knew he was gonna do it soon since we’ve been together so long but I’m still shocked you know?”

“I know!”

“And I’m sorry. Today was supposed to be me asking about your date last night.” She dabs at her eyes. “Bryce really likes you too. He even texted me thanking me for introducing you!!”

“Oh shit...” You take this chance to drink your Aperol spritz. “I’m gonna be completely honest with you. It’s true he’s cute but there was no spark.” You give her an apologetic grin, knowing she really wanted this to work out for you. “Like don’t get me wrong he’s super nice and stuff but I just couldn’t find anything we have in common. I can’t believe he’s still into me?!”

“Aw I’m sorry babe.” She pouts. “I really did think you would be a good match.”

“It’s ok. Anyways,” you wave her off, bringing up the more important subject at hand. “I’d much rather talk about your engagement! Like, hello?? You’re getting married, girl!!

Another squeal. You really hope her neighbors don’t complain.

“I know!! I literally don’t know what to think!” She smiles wistfully, like she’s on cloud nine, then brings her attention back to you. “Also you’re the maid of honor and you can’t back out of that.”

“I would never!” You gasp dramatically, one hand clutching your chest.

“But don’t worry!” She sets her drink down. “The wedding’s not happening till next year at least. We don’t have to start planning till way later.”

The rest of the day you spend chatting to Karli, prompting her to spill every single detail about the proposal. Even though you have no need to help her plan a wedding just yet, you can’t hold back from offering some ideas that spring to mind.

“I got it!!” You shout.

“You got what?”

“Hear me out,” you may or may not be a little tipsy at this point. “Goth wedding!” You say with jazz hands. Then you reach down to take another sip of your drink.

“Hmm…” She pretends to think about the idea, then giggles. “And that’s enough prosecco for you.” Plucking the glass out of your hand, she transfers it to her kitchen sink.

A couple more hours roll by. You both decide to watch a cheesy Netflix horror movie to sober up, paired with the Mexican takeout you ordered. By the time the credits roll, the sun has long since set, along with your alcohol buzz. You check the time on your phone, deciding it’s best to head home since poor Sunny has been respectfully out and about all day, giving you your girl time.

You give Karli one last big hug, murmuring into her hair how happy you are for her situation. She walks you to the apartment elevator, where you proceed to blow her a swift kiss right before the doors close in your face.

Reality sets in the moment you’re alone. Your head swims with thoughts as you drive back. Most of them are happy about your best friend’s engagement but you can’t discount the little ugly bubble of jealousy that wells down deep in your gut, reminding you of your own current situation. It’s not until you reach home that you realize you didn’t even play music in the car.

Ayah has long since gone on her business trip by the time you arrive at your apartment. The whole place looks dark and unwelcome, only highlighting the emptiness you feel inside. You trudge to your room and slump onto your bed. You try to scroll through social media as a way to distract yourself but you’re met, instead, by all the pictures and posts of happy people, showing off their achievements or bragging about their seemingly perfect lives.

You immediately lock your phone and throw it onto the blanket, the stress and anxiety from the last few months building to a boiling point in your mind. Your biggest concern is you still haven’t figured out your lease situation, and you only have two more months to move out or find someone new. Ayah has tried her best to help you but she’s bombarded by business trips so no luck so far. You let out a small groan and bury your head in the pillow, deciding to sleep it off and worry about your problems tomorrow, even though it’s not even that late.

Right as you’re about to drift off into dreamland, your phone rings. You fumble around the covers until it’s in your hands and check that you have a facetime call from your two favorite boys.

Immediately your body jerks awake and you sit up, swiping the answer button.

“Hey guys!”

“Hi Y/N!!” Scarlet’s heart-shaped smile is taking up most of the screen but you can see a sliver of white and grey hair behind him.

Hazel elbows him out of the way. “Sorry were you sleeping?” He tilts his head, ears twitching. “Wait, it’s only 10 pm where you’re at. You never sleep this early.”

“No I wasn’t... I mean, yeah I was trying to sleep but…”

You sigh. It’s their faces. Just seeing them through a screen, their wide, innocent eyes blinking up at you, makes you want to spill everything.

You nibble on your bottom lip for a moment. “I was just kinda having an existential crisis so I decided to sleep it off. No biggie.”

Scarlet’s eyebrows furrow in concern. After only two months, he can already tell when something is off with your tone of voice.

“Y/N what’s wrong?” He looks up for a bit, pausing to think. “Was it the date last night?”

“The date?” Oh yeah the date. Yet another thing that didn’t go well. You totally forgot about that can of worms. “Not really… or actually kinda?”

You try to reorganize your jumbled mess of a brain and put your thoughts into words.

“So you know how I said I was going to Karli’s today?”

“Mhm,” they nod at you to continue.

“Well turns out she got engaged last night.”

“That’s awesome! I’m so happy for her!” Scarlet bounces a little, then quickly returns to a more serious tone. “But that doesn’t really answer my question.”

“Yeah I’m happy for her too.” And you genuinely are.

You pause for another moment, teetering on the edge of playing your emotions off like it’s no big deal or exposing all of your concerns yet again. Your need for an outlet to vent to wins in the end. For the first time you find yourself unable to confide in Karli because you want her to be happy and focus on the engagement rather than to be preoccupied with you. Before you know it, the words flow from your mouth like running water.

“It’s just that her announcement really brought me back to earth, and I started thinking a little too much about my own life.” You purse your lips. “I don’t know… I feel pretty selfish right now because she’s doing so well and I just can’t help comparing my life to hers. I’m so proud of her but it’s like everything in her life is coming together and I just want that for me also.” You throw your hands up in frustration, almost knocking the phone off from where it leans on your pillow. “I mean we’re the same age for god's sake! Why can’t I get my shit together??”

“Well you should be proud of yourself though,” Hazel cuts in. “Cause we are.” He gestures to Scarlet and himself.

“Yeah!” Scarlet chimes. “I mean you’ve got a full time job and a place to stay. I know you don’t feel like it’s the most ideal situation right now but please don’t discredit yourself.”

“Thanks guys.” You calm down a bit, but then you remember the whole issue with your apartment. Scratching the back of your neck, a habit you’ve picked up whenever you’re nervous, you say in a much smaller voice, “although my ��place to stay’ might not last much longer.”

“What do you mean?” Both boys’ eyebrows are raised in confusion.

You realize you never mentioned your living situation to them, the topic always pushed to the back of your mind whenever they initiated conversation.

“Yeah.” A dry chuckle leaves your lips. “My lease ends soon and Ayah wants to move to a place of her own. And I have two months to figure out where to live or find another roommate.” You let out a frustrated huff. “She’s been so helpful but still no luck I guess.” You shrug in defeat.

You feel like a balloon that’s lost all its air, brain exhausted from running through all the problems in your life.

“Actually that’s pretty convenient for- ” Scarlet starts, but is elbowed again in the ribs by Hazel. “Ow!”

“Not yet!” The cat hisses quietly to him.

“Huh?” Now you’re confused. What in the world are they talking about?

Hazel turns back to you. “I’m really sorry about everything Y/N. If there’s anything we can do to help please let us know.”

“Thanks buddy.” You offer him a small smile, choosing to ignore what just happened since they clearly don’t want to reveal anything just yet.

Hazel then shifts to a more nervous stance, ears slightly flattening and both hands grabbing his floofy grey tail for comfort. It’s the cutest goddamn thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“So Y/N, um, there’s a reason we called you tonight.”

You’re glad for a change in subject, a much needed distraction away from your downward spiraling thoughts.

“Oh right! Yeah. What’s up guys?”

Scarlet steps in front of him again, blocking most of the screen.

“We have a surprise for you!” He’s so close to the camera that you can only see half of his unblemished face but from the way his eyes crinkle, you can tell he’s giddy with anticipation.

“A surprise- ?”

“Yeah!!”

Hazel nudges himself into view again. “Quit hogging the whole screen fox! I swear to god next time we’re using the tv. I can’t see anything! Anyways,” he turns to you and smooths his shirt, expression back to stoic, “are you free next weekend?”

“I should be. Why?” You’re still a little lost on what the surprise is.

“Cause we’re coming back to town!” Scarlet blurts out.

“You are?!” Suddenly all your negativity melts away, replaced by excitement. Hard to believe just five simple words can shift your mood a complete 180°.

“But wait, there’s more!” You snort at how much Scarlet sounded like an infomercial just now.

“We’d like to invite you to dinner next Saturday night. If that’s ok with you?” Hazel isn’t as physically expressive as Scarlet but the hopeful shine in his eyes gives himself away.

You melt at his expression, heart rate speeding up. “Of course that’s ok! I’d love to!”

“Great!” He flashes one of his rare gummy smiles. “Saturday night. 7 pm. We’ll text you the details.”

“Yep!” Scarlet pipes in. “There’s something important we gotta ask- !” He lets out a small gasp, tail bristling, and clamps a hand over his mouth as if he just said something he shouldn’t have.

“What’s important?” You’ve gotta admit, your curiosity is at its peak right now, and it doesn’t help that they’re acting a little weird today.

Hazel rubs his temples in exasperation, groaning at Scarlet. “What part of ‘not yet’ did you not understand?” He then addresses you. “Sorry Y/N I promise we’ll tell you when we see you in person.”

“Ok.” Cool. That’s fine. You’re a little nervous about what they have to say and it’ll be torture to wait but you’re a big girl and you can handle not knowing for a week. “I can’t wait to see you guys!!” you added.

“Me too!” Scarlet’s personality is so bubbly and contagious that you can’t help but smile back at him.

“Same.” Hazel lets out a small yawn. “Well we’re in a different time zone than you and it’s really late here so I gotta hit the hay.”

“Mk, go get your beauty sleep.” You give them a little wave. “And thanks for everything. I mean it.”

“No problem Y/N.” Scarlet also gives off a yawn, stretching his tired limbs. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

After ending the facetime call, you lie on your back, staring at the ceiling. Your mind is active once again, but this time it’s not clouded with self-deprecating thoughts. Instead, you spend the remainder of the evening theorizing about the ‘important’ things the boys have to tell you. Maybe you’ll finally find out their real names. Or maybe they’ll reveal something else about themselves, like why they’re constantly travelling, or what they actually do for a living. Either way you can’t wait for next Saturday to come around.

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#bts fic #bts hybrid au #hoseok fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfction #hybrid hoseok #hybrid yoongi #bts hybrid fic

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

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Flatbush & Atlantic: part viii

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii

Here’s part viii! Tell your friends, tell your neighbors, tell your dog, tell the nosy woman who lives in the apartment above you. Remember to reblog, it helps the series reach more people, and as always - tell me what you think! I haven’t gotten much feedback so far and would love to know everyone’s thoughts, even if it’s only a few words.

part viii

April 19 (sun)

Cass was the most nervous she had been in her entire life. Okay, well maybe that was an overstatement. That honor probably went to the night law school acceptances went out, or when she sat with Alejandra — a friend from back in Texas — as they thought DACA was going to get rescinded, or when her dad lost his job when she was in middle school and their family was living paycheck-to-paycheck. It was Game 6 of the first round, the Islanders leading the series 3-2. The score was tied 1-1 halfway through the second period, a beautiful tip-in by Nelson that managed to just squeak past Mrazek. They had been up 3 games to none at the start of the series, with every intention to sweep the Hurricanes in Game 4 at home. But then they dropped two in a row — needless to say, tensions were running high coming into the night.

She was sat up in the club box with the WAGs and some other family members who had flown in for the occasion, in hopes that they’d be able to celebrate a win and a move to the conference semifinals. The team probably could have used with tightening up their backcheck, but the passes were spot-on and Cass didn’t see much room to complain. Lauren on the chair opposite, she sat next to Paige as the clock hit eight minutes left, clutching a glass of white wine as her foot nervously tapped the carpet. Paige placed a steadying hand on her arm. “They’re going to pull it off, you know.”

Cass ran a hand through her hair. “That’s what I keep trying to tell myself. And I know they’ve got the talent, and these guys are some of the hardest workers I know, but—”

“It’s hard trying to rationalize it,” Paige finished.

“Yeah,” Cass nodded, “and especially knowing how long the team’s gone without a cup, like it’s been, what,” she glanced at the banners in the rafters, “38 years since they’ve won?. That’s 13 years before I was even born.”

Paige looked down at the ice thoughtfully. “I guess there’s really not much you can do in these situations but have faith that all the training and all the effort’s going to eventually pay off.”

“I guess you’re right,” Cass said, though if she was being honest she didn’t like the subjectivity of the statement. Shitty things happen to good people all the time, bad people get away with terrible things all the time, and people who have worked their asses off don’t always get what they’ve spent their entire lives working toward.

There were just under six minutes left on the clock, and the first line had just gone back on. Anders took the faceoff, and Cass was so focused on the puck that she didn’t notice the gloves dropping on the other side of the ice until Paige let out a gasp, gently shaking her out of her trance. She was thrown for a minute; sure, fights were more uncommon since the league started cracking down on penalties, but they weren’t uncommon, so why did it matter that she paid any attention?

Five seconds later, and she understood. It was Mat. It took Cass a few seconds to really grasp it — Mat wasn’t a fighter by any means, she had never seen him in one even before they got together, so what had finally set him off? They traded punches as the refs struggled to get a handle on the situation, jerseys riding up as Cass’ hand squeezed like a vice grip on Paige’s knee. She was too anxious to even figure out who the other player was, just that he was tall and blond and had one fist gripping Mat’s collar as he dodged one of his blows. Mat tried to steady himself, tried to realign his center of gravity, but then the other player threw a punch at the side of his face and it clipped his cheek as he tried to avoid it and he couldn’t get his balance back and he fell. Hard. Helmets had gone off before the fight had even started, so there was nothing in between his head and the ice.

Cass’ hands flew up to her mouth, and Lauren had to stop her from sliding off the edge of her lounge chair. There was blood, and it was coming from his head, and if there was one thing her mother’s 30 years as a nurse had taught her, it was that blood from the head was never a good sign. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she whispered, feeling the bile rise up in her throat. Scratch anything she had said before, this was hands-down the most scared she’d ever been in her life. The love of her life was bleeding from his head down on the ice, and he wasn’t moving.

You could have heard a pin drop in Barclay’s Center as the whole crowd waited for Mat to get up. And waited. And waited. Cassidy barely noticed him being helped up by Jordan; she was already running through the halls, Paige right beside her, frantically pressing the down button on the elevator to take them to the dressing room. She didn’t pay any attention to the usher who was telling her that they were private elevators because Mat was hurt and he was bleeding and oh God oh God oh God I need to get to him I need to get to him.

She leaned her head against the cool metal of the side panel, long since having abandoned her efforts to control her tears as Paige tried desperately to comfort her. “The team has really good doctors, and if he needs a hospital, we have the best ones in the world right here in New York,” she said, but her words fell on deaf ears. Cass’ head jerked up. The elevator had dinged, indicating that they had finally reached the underground level. She turned left, headed straight for the locker room. There was no way he would have been left on the bench. Cass knew enough about hockey and enough about injuries to know that a hit that hard and blood that bad meant that he’d be taken right back.

By this time, she knew the way as good as anyone, and didn’t care who would try and stop her from getting in the room. Come hell or high water, she was going to see Mat. She passed the handful of puzzled arena staff, bursting into the locker room. “I’ll be out here,” Paige had said, but it barely registered. Mat was in a room off to the side, and thank God the trainer was one who recognized her, because he nodded at her as she lingered by the door, unspoken permission that she could enter. Cass rushed to Mat’s side, his eyes screwed shut in pain as the trainer — Carter, was it? Nick? She really couldn’t remember much of anything at the moment — held a pad of gauze to his head with a gloved hand.

“Doctor should be here any minute, Mat, just hang on,” he said.

Cass knelt down, hands shaking as she laced her fingers through his. “It’s going to be okay, Mat. You’re going to be okay.”

Mat opened his eyes just a sliver. “Cass?”

“Yeah, babe. I’m here.”

The door opened again, a man with a medical bag walking through the corridor and into the side room. “Dr. Khan,” he said to the trainer as he set the bag down, unclasping it. “Nick,” he responded. So it was Nick, Cass thought absentmindedly.

“I was watching from a box when it happened, got down as soon as I could. So, his head hit the ice? No helmet?” Nick nodded as Dr. Khan snapped his own pair of gloves on. He turned to Cass. “Are you the wife?” For a moment, Cass was thrown. He may have been a doctor, but this man really couldn’t have known much about the team if he thought one of their star players was married. If Mat Barzal was married, everyone would know.

After a moment, she shook her head. “No. Girlfriend.”

He nodded. “Okay. I’m fine with you staying as long as you keep out of the way, it shouldn’t take too long.” He turned to Nick. “A/O questions?”

“Knew his name, knew the year, knew where we are, knew who she is,” he tilted his head over at Cass.

“Good, good,” Dr. Khan said, moving over to take his place at the head of the table. “Head wounds bleed a lot,” he said reassuringly, looking over at where Cass stood, her nails bit down to nubs. She thought she’d quit the habit in fifth grade. “It shouldn’t need more than a staple or two.”

True to his word, fifteen minutes later the bleeding had subsided substantially, and Mat was sporting two very shiny, brand-new staples. “I’m sorry we had to shave a little, your lovely girlfriend was telling me how much pride you take in your hair. It’ll grow back quickly,” the doctor said.

Mat let out a groan. “I’m going to lose all of my millions of adoring fans. The hair’s all I got, you know.”

Dr. Khan chuckled. “I’m glad to see you’re in good spirits. I’m going to diagnose you with a moderate concussion. It could have been a lot worse, but you got lucky this time.” He turned to Cass. “Would you be able to stay with him for the next few days? He should be able to manage, but it’s always better safe than sorry and it would be good for him to have someone around in case anything comes up.”

Cass nodded. “Yeah. I’m in school, but outside of that. Yeah. I can stay.”

Nick walked back through the door, handing a few printouts to Cass. “Just some concussion stuff for you to know. Activities for him to avoid, symptoms to be aware of, what to do if things get worse. That kind of thing.”

Cass took the sheets. “Do you think things will get worse?” She asked worriedly.

Dr. Khan shook his head. “It’s not likely, seeing as how he’s relatively aware and the concussion could have been much more severe. But it’s always better to err on the side of caution when it comes to any medical situation.”

She nodded, nervously rubbing Mat’s thumb. “Should I...take him home now?” She asked, trying to think of how she was going to take him back to Manhattan on the train when lights and loud noises were the exact thing he was supposed to be avoiding right now, or how much an hour long Uber would cost.

“I’d like to keep him for a little longer, an hour or so, just for observation to make sure symptoms don’t get any worse.”

The next hour seemed to inch by, dotted with visits from Nick and Dr. Khan and one from Trotz during the second intermission. Mat was going to be out for somewhere in the vicinity of two weeks; everything was dependent on him being medically cleared and a slow return to training and team practices. The news gutted him. It wasn’t just that Mat loved hockey, he loved being out on the ice and in the thick of the action and with his team, his brothers, and it just seemed so patently unfair that he wasn’t going to be able to do that when they needed him the most. Doing the math, he had realized with heart-wrenching certainty that that meant he would maybe be able to make the last few games of the conference semifinals, and that was only if they made it that far. It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in his team, but the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to do anything but sit on the bench in a suit and hand out waters ate away at him.

Someone, maybe one of the equipment managers, had taken the liberty of packing up Mat’s things, and Cass was poking around trying to find his keys. He was pretty coherent by then, but still in no state to drive. She slung the bag over her shoulder, trying not to groan at its weight — she’d definitely be sore tomorrow — and helped him out of the locker room and back to the players’ parking lot, half-heartedly waving goodbye to the handful of players and staff that were still trickling out. The ride back to his apartment was quiet, and Mat barely acknowledged the news that the team had eked out a win with a powerplay goal late in the third. They were going to the second round, and it killed him that he might not get to be a part of it.

She parked in the underground lot, taking the bag once again despite Mat’s insistence that he could carry it himself, their ride up the elevator accompanied by a strangely specific playlist that was mostly comprised of late 2000s pop. “I slow danced with my first boyfriend to this song at our freshman year homecoming dance,” Cass said.

The corner of Mat’s mouth twitched up. “I Won’t Give Up?” She nodded. “What was his name?”

“Justin. He played varsity basketball, I did lacrosse and field hockey. We were the jockiest couple at school for the all of four months we dated,” she said wistfully. “He was a good guy, but I should have known things weren’t going to work out. He had a lot of growing up to do.”

Mat hummed in acknowledgement as she opened the door. “I didn’t know you played field hockey.”

Cass let out a laugh. “Wrong surface, I know. But yeah, I did, through junior year of high school. Dropped it senior year to focus on lacrosse and college stuff.”

“But you still did lacrosse in university,” he said, more like a statement than anything.

She nodded. “Club, yeah. It would have been cool to be on the school team, but D1 sports are super competitive, and I didn’t have time between A Phi and the Mexican Student Association and honors stuff there would have been no way I could have made it all work.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Anyone ever told you you’re a bit of an overachiever?”

She glared at him. “You’re lucky you’re injured, or I would have slapped you.” Heading over to the kitchen, she called over her shoulder, “I’m getting some water, do you want anything?”

“Water would be great.” Cass came back a minute later, handing him his glass. She looked at her watch. Past midnight. Then she looked at her phone, which she hadn’t checked since the middle of the game and which had understandably blown up since then. She responded to texts from Paige and Lauren and Kerry, sent Chris a message that she’d need tomorrow off to look after Mat, reassured Noah that Mat was fine and would be back on the ice as soon as humanly possible. Her brow furrowed. Three missed messages from the apartment’s group chat, The Fantastic Four, named largely due to the fact that Cass may or may not have had a not-so-little crush on Human Torch as a middle schooler; once the girls had gotten the story out of her, they never let her live it down.

10:44 - Ryanne: When do you think you’ll be back? Made spaghetti and wasn’t sure if I should leave it out for you or put it in the fridge.

11:17 - Stella: Were you taking the subway home?

11:39 - Alicia: I saw on Twitter Mat got hurt, is everything okay? Do you need anything?

11:55 - Alicia: Cass? You good?

“Shit,” Cass breathed, shutting her eyes for a moment.

Mat looked concerned, scratching at an itch under his gauze. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Cass said, typing a response. There was almost nothing she hated more than worrying people. Oh my gosh I’m so sorry guys! Yes, I’m good, Mat’s okay too. It’s a concussion so he’ll be out of play for a few weeks, but thank God it’s not worse. I hadn’t checked my phone since he got hurt, I’m so sorry to worry y’all!! I’m over at his, the doctor said he should have someone watching him for a few days just in case. I might come pick up a few things tomorrow, but I’ll be back Wednesday :)

Mat stuck his tongue through his teeth and let out a sigh. “I’m sorry you have to deal with all this,” he gestured at his head, “it shouldn’t be your responsibility.”

Cass smiled softly at him, leaning gently into his side. “It’s okay, I don’t mind it, taking care of you and all. Plus, acts of service are my number one love language.” He laughed. “But,” she started hesitantly, “I’ve got to ask. You’re not really a fighter.” His arm tensed around her, knowing what was coming. “So what made you drop the gloves? You don’t really ever let these things get to you.”

“Yeah,” Mat sighed. He really should have expected the question sooner, it wasn’t like it was an avoidable situation. “Um, he had just been chirping me for most of the game, just stuff about how I’m all talk and no talent, about my points drought earlier in the season, stuff like that.”

“And?” Cass pressed, knowing that there was something he was holding back. She wanted to help him, and she couldn’t do that without the full story.

“And you,” he admitted. “It’s not really that unusual for guys to chirp each other about girlfriends, but he was just saying some pretty nasty stuff about you. Just sexist, gross stuff. No one should say that about a girl, doesn’t matter who she is.”

As unfortunate as it was, Cass was pretty sure she knew exactly what had been said about her. She was a woman — a young, attractive woman — living in New York City, which was practically the world capital of catcalling, and her earbuds could only drown out so much. But still, Mat’s response had her heart skip a beat. “Thank you for defending my honor,” she said sweetly, turning her head to give him a kiss on the cheek.

He blushed. “If I could go back? I’d do it all over again.”

April 27 (tues)

Cass scrolled through her Twitter feed as she waited for Mat to arrive at the deli for lunch. It had been a week and a half since the injury, and things were definitely progressing — though not as fast as Mat would have hoped. She had stayed with him for a few days until he was feeling back to his old self, and though Mat hadn’t exactly been thrilled by Cass having to wake him up every three hours to be sure that he wasn’t, you know, dead, he had been a pretty good sport overall.

Reading and excessive screen use was on the no-no list she’d been given by Dr. Khan, so Mat had taken to a lot of listening to music and trying valiantly to pick back up his guitar skills once he was feeling up to it. Skills was perhaps a generous word, Cass thought, since the only song he had been able to play with any confidence by the end of the week was Rockstar by Nickleback. “It’s not that bad,” he had said defensively. “They get a bad rep.” Cass wasn’t so sure about that, but thought it would be a bit of a dick move to criticize his music taste, so she refrained.

She was jerked out of her thoughts by Mat, who greeted her with a bright smile and a kiss on the forehead. “How was your day, babe?”

She shrugged. “Pretty good, nothing special. Just got out of a Contracts seminar. Nothing quite as thrilling as debating the precedent set by Supreme Court cases from the 1980s.”

Mat barked out a laugh. “I’m sure. I don’t think I’d understand a single word of what they said, but that just proves what I already knew.”

“Which is?”

“That you’re ten times smarter than I am.” Cass laughed, and he opened the door. “Now, I’m starving. I want food.”

“Good thing we came to a deli, then,” Cass said dryly.

He snickered. “Guess I walked right into that one.” The couple stopped in front of the menu. “What’s good here?”

“Besides everything?” Cass asked. “Roast beef sandwich, grilled chicken’s pretty good too. And obviously the pastrami.”

Mat shifted from one food to another. “I’ve never actually had one,” he admitted.

Cass turned to look at him slowly, eyes wide. “You’ve never had a pastrami on rye?” He shook his head. “You’ve lived in New York for, what, almost four years now? And you’ve never had a pastrami sandwich?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Mat mumbled.

“Oh, it is,” Cass said, as they reached the counter. “I take my sandwiches very seriously, Mathew, and you’re about to find out why.” She waved to the man behind the counter. “Carlos!” Jabbering in rapid-fire Spanish as he assembled the sandwiches, she pulled out her wallet to pay before Mat even got the chance. “Él es mi novio,” she said, answering Carlos’ unspoken question and tapping her card on the reader. “Gracias, te veré pronto!” She grabbed the bag of sandwiches, Mat following her out the door as they walked down the block, peeling off to a side road with a small park. Cass shifted her backpack off, setting it on the ground beneath a small table that had become one of her go-to lunch spots since she, Les, and Fiona stumbled across it in their first year.

“So it seems like you’ve known Carlos for awhile?” Mat asked, unwrapping the sandwich.

Cass nodded, biting into hers and letting out an almost-euphoric moan.

Mat raised an eyebrow. “You usually save that for the bedroom.”

Almost choking, she swallowed the bite, leaning over the table and lightly slapping his arm. “Mat! But yeah, he started working at the deli sometime in spring of my first year. He moved from Puerto Rico, so that’s why we were speaking Spanish.”

“What was that you called me back there, anyways? Nuevo?”

Cass snorted into her coffee. “Nuevo means new. I called you my novio. It’s the word for serious boyfriend. Or fiancé, really. The language doesn’t make much of a distinction.” Cass sipped slowly, deciding to hazard a question. “How has your recovery been going?”

Mat perked up. Anything relating to hockey and he was all ears. “It’s going well, yeah. I was cleared to start working out the other day, they did some scans and said that everything looks like how it should, which is a relief. I’ve been a little dizzy but nothing serious,” he quickly added, seeing Cass’ nervous glance, “and I go back in two days to see if I can get back to training with the team. A day or two of that and fingers crossed, I’d be ready to play a game if we’re still in it.” The team was down 2-1 to the Capitals, and Mat had been tearing his hair out the entire week, frustrated beyond belief that he couldn’t do anything to help. He was a hockey player, a damn good one at that, and there was nothing he could do but sit in front of his TV and watch his team fall behind in the series. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be out there, scoring and making hits and making a difference, not cooped up like some toddler with a list of things he couldn’t do and couldn’t touch.

Cass could see that he was starting to retreat a little bit, so she reached out, squeezing his hand. “Hey, chou, listen to me.” He looked up. “I know it’s frustrating for you. Believe me, I know how much you want to be out there and how useless you might feel right now, but that’s all bullshit, you hear me?” Her eyes softened. “The best thing you can do for the boys right now is work out when you can, listen to your doctors, and focus on getting better. The city wants their golden boy back, and as cute as your pout is,” Mat’s lips twitched, “it doesn’t do anyone any good, least of all you.”

Cass was nearly done with her sandwich when Mat spoke again. “Graduation’s coming up fast, huh? What is it, a month from now?”

She nodded, picking up a napkin and dabbing at the mustard by the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, it’s the 22, so a little under a month now.”

“Is your whole family coming down?”

“Yeah,” Cass said, bounding her head. “Everyone’s able to make it, which is awesome, and so much more than I expected. Eliana gets out of school the week earlier, so it’s not a problem for her, and it’s on a Saturday so it’s a non-issue for Noah and my parents. My nana’s driving down with my family, and my mom’s parents are flying from Hermosillo.”

Mat gave her a confused look. “I thought they lived in Texas?”

“They started splitting time after they retired, they were the only ones who immigrated so all of their relatives were still down in Mexico,” Cass explained.

“Got it.”

She continued. “Yeah, so I’m really lucky that everyone’s able to make it, it’s been forever since the whole family was together. Which reminds me,” she said, pulling out her phone and sending a quick text, “I need to get their flight info. I promised to pick them up from JFK.”

“Why don’t I come with you?” Mat asked quickly.

Cass was confused. “What if you’re still playing?”

He waved his hand. “Obviously not then. But if we’re not, I’d love to come. I could drive around so you wouldn’t have to pay for parking, and it would be nice to meet them before your graduation.” The unspoken addendum was if I’m able to make it. Game 4 of the Stanley Cup Finals was scheduled on the day of Cass’ graduation; Mat knew that realistically, the chances of making it that far were slim, but the thought of not being able to celebrate with her, celebrate her, caused a pang in his heart.

Her smile could have lit up the sun. “I’d love that, I really would. And you’re going to love my grandparents. I’ve told them so much about you and they’re excited to finally meet you in person.”

Mat beamed. “I’m glad. Hey,” he added, treading lightly. “Have you heard back from any of the places you’ve applied yet?” He knew of at least a half-dozen firms and nonprofits she’d interviewed with, but if any of them had resulted in an offer yet, she hadn’t told him.

Cass looked down at her hands. This was the conversation she had been dreading ever since last week. “Cass?” Mat asked again, more hesitantly this time. He could tell something was up. “Uh, yeah.” She said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Yeah, I have. You remember that tech company I interviewed with the other week?

“Yeah, the ones that do computers and stuff?” Mat asked, confused. If she got the job, then why did she seem so nervous?

She nodded. “Yeah. They got back to me a few days ago...and they offered a position.”

Mat stood up, ready to walk around the table and wrap her in a massive bear hug. “Cass!” He exclaimed. “That’s awesome! You said it sounded like really interesting stuff, and the company’s in New York so you wouldn’t even have to move—”

“That’s the thing,” Cass said, cutting him off. “They’re headquartered in New York, and I thought I was applying for a position in New York, but it turns out everything was ‘space available,’ whatever that means.” She finally looked up at Mat. “The job’s in Hong Kong.”

He feels like he’s had the wind knocked out of him, and sat back down in his seat hard. So hard, in fact, that he almost knocked it over, but he barely noticed. Hong Kong? That’s a whole country and the world’s largest ocean away, and the thought of losing her to a whole different country wasn’t something he ever could have anticipated. He’s finally gotten something so good, someone so good, and the thought that it could all be taken away in the blink of an eye was a possibility he hadn’t even allowed himself to consider.

Mat swallows. “Are you...Are you going to take it?” He asks thickly. She looks down at the coffee cup in her hands, the same speckled white-and-blue one Mat gave her back in the fall. God, October seems like a lifetime away from where they are now. “I don’t know,” she admitted, and he felt a weight lifted off of his chest. “I don’t even know if I want it, and I didn’t want…,” she tapped her fingers on the scratched stone table, “I didn’t want to decide anything without talking it over with you first.”

His head felt like lead when he tried to nod. “Okay, yeah. That makes sense. So, let’s talk.”

“It’s not something I ever saw myself doing,” Cass said.

“The moving to a foreign country part or the job itself?” Mat asked.

Cass scrunched her nose. “Both, I guess. Sure, I applied to places all across the country, but that was more for job security than anything. I needed cash flow to start paying off my loans, and as much as I love nonprofit and pro-bono work, it doesn’t really pay well. That’s sort of the whole point.

Mat reached behind himself to throw the sandwich wrapper into the trash can. “Do you like what they’d be having you do?”

“It’s contracts and negotiations, so it’s interesting enough. I like the topic and I know I’m good at it. But it’s not what I originally imagined for myself,” she conceded.

“What did you think you’d be doing?”

Cass let out a strained breath. “When I first got to law school, I was convinced I’d do immigration law. I’m passionate about it, feel like I’ve got a stake in the matter, and Spanish fluency is a really good skill to have in the field. And I loved getting to work in the clinic on deportation appeals. The day I got a stay for my first client was one of the happiest days of my life,” she added. Mat couldn’t help but smile. Even with mountains of uncertainty threatening to topple over on them, Cass had such a good heart and he’d always be proud of that. “But I’ve loved what I’ve gotten to do with Chris in the office. If I’m being honest, I didn’t think that I’d like it.”

Mat’s curiosity was piqued. “How come?”

“I think part of it had to do with how rushed and nervous I felt about the whole thing. It was pretty much my last chance and I really just threw my application together without thinking. I didn’t have time to worry if I’d actually like what I was going to be doing. It might just be my Rangers bias coming through, but I think I thought it would just be Scandal-type dealing with dumb shit players did, getting them off the hook for drunken escapades or finding contractual loopholes to save the team money on the salary cap.” She shrugged. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

“So,” Mat said said slowly, “if this isn’t the kind of work you wantedto do, why are you thinking about taking the job?”

“Couple of things,” Cass said. “The company culture is really good, by all accounts they hanuinely care about their environmental impact and worker’s rights, they make sure everyone on the supply chain is given a living wage. Good upward mobility, and there’s a half-dozen offices around the world that you can apply to transfer to after five years. Benefits and salary are are some of the best I’ve seen for new hires.”

“But would you be happy?” Mat asked, so softly that she almost missed it.

Would I? Cass thought. It was never the plan for her to move so far away; she’s never lived further than a few hours from home and as much as she hated to admit it, the prospect of not being in the same time zone as her family terrified her. What if her abuelo has another stroke, and she’s halfway across the world? What if she’s not able to hold her brother when he goes through his first heartbreak? What if she isn’t there to kiss Mat when he hoists the Stanley Cup for the first time? But what if she hates herself because she never took the chance? She finally looks back up, feeling like Mat’s hazel eyes are boring straight into her soul. “I don’t know.”

#hockey imagine #hockey smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #mat barzal #hockey #hockey imagines #hockey writing #nhl #nhl writing #nhl imagines #nhl fluff #hockey fluff #mathew barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal imagines #New York Islanders #new york islanders writing

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eyebrowluv · 5 years ago

Text

Tall Blonde with One Sugar 3/?

“Yes, I guess so,” Levi deadpanned, entering the apartment. “Damn, it’s fucking cold in here.”

“He has the thermostat turned way down,” Hange answered. “Probably couldn’t afford the heating bill.”

“Erwin?” Levi called again.

“Oh lookie, I’ve got guests!” Erwin giggled as he stumbled through the dimly lit apartment, clearly drunk. “I would offer you a beef, no beber-, no, shit, a drink! I would offer you a drink, but I just ran out.”

“I believe you have bigger problems. I think you’ve been robbed,” Levi claimed looking around the nearly-empty apartment.

“What? Really? Oh shit!” Erwin drunkenly stumbled down the hall to his bedroom, Hange and Levi following closely behind. “What did they take? I don’t notice anything mis-mis-, I mean gone. There’s nothing gone. Except my drink. It’s all gone. I drank it all.”

“You drank it all?” Levi asked cautiously as he picked up the empty fifth of Wild Turkey.

“What I didn’t spill. See, I spilled some of it over there. I was going to get a towel when you came to visit.”

“Thank fuck,” Levi murmured as he looked at the puddle in the floor.

“I’ll get it,” Hange announced as they rushed from the room to get the towel.

“You need to sit down before you fall down. I’m not picking up your giant, drunk ass if you pass out.” Levi grabbed Erwin by the shoulders and eased him down to his futon pad as Hange returned with a towel.

“Oh, hi Hange. You don’t have to do that, I’ll get it.”

“Erwin, you’re drunk,” Hange reminded.

“Yup,” Erwin said, popping the P loudly before dissolving into a fit of giggles. “I haven’t been drunk since undergrad. Damn, I’m boring.”

“You’re not boring, just focused,” Hange said gently with a smile.

“Fuckus, fickedis, dammit, focused? Why? What the hell do I need to be focused for? It’s never gonna matter anyway.”

“What the hell are you rambling about,” Levi snapped.

“This. That’s just the beginning.” Erwin held out a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. Levi took it from him and cautiously smoothed it out. It was an eviction notice.

“Erwin, why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t make rent?” Hange asked.

“I’m not your responsibility, Hange. I missed my interview at the fish market, and funerals are expensive. My job at the library is only part time and minimum wage. My savings is wiped out. I’m going back to Karanes.” Erwin laid down and curled up into the fetal position.

“I feel like I’m missing something,” Levi remarked.

“His father died last week.”

“Ah.”

“You want to hear something really fucked up,” Erwin sniffled. “Nursing homes put liens on houses. My dad’s insurance didn’t cover but the first two months. Two months! He was there for almost two fucking years!”

“Erwin, what are you saying?”

“I’m homeless, Hange,” Erwin said, sounding a little more sober. “I have to be out of this apartment in two weeks. The nursing home is going to auction off my dad’s house to recoup their costs. So, I’m going back to Karanes. I already talked to Mr. Reeves. He said I can work at the hardware store, but it’s only part time until Christmas. He worked out a deal with the owner of the Econo Motel, and I don’t have to pay them until I get my first paycheck.”

“Erwin, no. You can’t. That place is disgusting.”

“It’s better than living on the street.”

“You can move in with Moblit and I. Finish school.”

“I can’t afford it, Hange. Even with your help.” There was an audible catch in his breath. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine. You’ll see, Hange.”

“But, Erwin-“

“Listen, I have to go to work, and he doesn’t need to be alone right now,” Levi whispered.

“I’ll stay with him.”

“Good.” Levi stood time leave. “He’s not going to listen to reason right now. Let him rest. He will think more rationally in the morning.”

“Okay. Thanks, Levi.”

Levi nodded at Hange before taking the time to study the beautiful younger man laying in a heap of drunken misery. If there was only something he could do…

——

It haunted him all through his shift. He needed to help Erwin, but how? He was coming out of an emergency surgery with an idea so outrageous, so impossible that he wondered if sleep deprivation had finally caused him to lose his mind. So he did the only thing he could think of, he made a phone call.

“Hello?”

“Mike?”

“Levi? What the hell? Do you have any idea what time it is?” Levi looked at his watch.

“Sorry, I just got out of emergency surgery. But since you’re awake…”

“That’s debatable, and entirely your fault.”

“I have a question.” Levi held the phone tighter to his ear.

“Okay, fine,” Mike huffed.

“How does one become a sugar daddy?”

“Levi, what the fuck? Have you lost your mind? I don’t think I’m awake enough for this conversation. In what reality are you even Sugar Daddy material?”

“I’m serious.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are, but have you thought this through? I mean, I know it’s been a minute since you got laid, but resulting to paying for sex…”

“It’s not about sex, Mike. I just want to help him out. You know, Erwin. He really needs someone. I’m in a position to help, so I want to.” Levi scratched at his head. “He’s a good kid.”

“And he’s not bad to look at,” Mike chuckled.

“Well, that is definitely a bonus,” Levi admitted. “But seriously, I don’t care if he ever feels the need to...repay me.”

“Like hell you don’t, you perv. You’d tap that ass if given half a chance.” Mike sighed into the phone. “But how do you know he will go along with it? You need a game plan.”

“That is why, against all my better judgement, I called you at the ass crack of dawn. Unfortunately, I need your help in appearing accommodating, but not creepy.”

“Too late for that, Doctor. You’re creepy as hell, but I’ll try my best to run damage control.”

“You ass-“

“When’s your shift over?”

“Assuming no other emergencies happen, 10 minutes.”

“Meet you at your place. I’ll tell Nanaba and get dressed.”

“Wait, Mike-“ It was too late. His friend had already hung up. Levi supposed that he better swing by the convenience store on the way home and buy more coffee. He was probably going to need it.

——

When Levi returned to Erwin’s apartment later that afternoon, the door was still unlocked and Erwin and Hange were still asleep. How both of them were able to fit on that pitiful excuse for a futon pad, he would never know, but it had to be because Hange was mostly laying on top of Erwin. Levi could only roll his eyes and shake his head.

“Get up! We have things to do today,” Levi practically shouted while clapping his hands.

Hange jerked awake with a snort, and hit Erwin in the nose with their head. Erwin cussed and groaned in pain before grabbing his nose and rolling over, dislodging Hange.

“Levi? What the hell?” Hange practically growled as they rolled onto the floor.

“We have a busy day, today, children. Hange, you may tag along if you wish, but Erwin doesn’t get a say.”

“Wait, what? How did you get in?” Erwin rasped as he attempted to open his eyes and look at Levi. He immediately shut them again with a pained noise on his lips.. “I’m so hungover. God, this is why I don’t drink. Not worth it.”

“I don’t feel the least bit sorry for you. You should have hydrated. Now get your giant ass out of bed and take a shower. I brought food and painkillers.” Levi nudged Erwin with his foot for good measure.

“Why are you here?”

“I’ll tell you when you get out of the shower. Now go. You smell.”

“Fine,” Erwin spat, slowly rising from the floor. “One would think that I was inconveniencing you.”

“Not at all. We’re on a tight schedule, and don’t have time for you to wallow in bed all day.” Levi turned to leave. “Come on, Four-Eyes. Give the man some privacy so he can shit, shower, and shave.”

——

By the time Erwin showered and dressed, he felt a little more human, and not quite as nauseous. He was surprised to see that Levi and Hange were still there, sitting on the living room floor with a spread of food on his crappy little coffee table.

“Sit down, eat. It will help with the hangover.” Levi pointed at a plate.

“Not to be rude, or seem ungrateful, but why are you here? I mean, if it’s to help me move, all I have is some clothes. I was going to give you back the laptop and backpack. The sorry excuse for furniture is staying. That leaves two duffles of clothes and a shoebox of memorabilia. Not really a three-person job.”

“Of course you’re leaving this shitty excuse for furniture. I forbid it in my apartment,” Levi snarled in disgust. “It’s the shopping and unloading all the new stuff that is going to be a three-person job.”

“Your apartment? New stuff? I’m afraid I’m not following.” Erwin rubbed his temples, clearly still suffering. “Do you need help shopping? You getting new furniture or something?”

“Yes, and yes. You have to pick it out first. I refuse to let you sleep on that sorry excuse of a mattress one more night.”

“What does my mattress have to do with your furniture?” Erwin asked as he gently chewed some dry toast.

“Nothing, if I have any say about it. Hurry up and eat. You have an interview in the morning, and you need a new suit.” Levi stood and stretched. “We’ll go by the tailor’s first. They may have some ready made items that fit you for the most part. Then, we need to find a decent bed. On a frame. With a real mattress. And maybe a decent desk-“

“Wait a minute. I’m still not following. I have a job interview? Where? How?”

“My friend Nanaba knows Judge Pixis’ law clerk, Rico. He is in need of a student assistant to handle everyday grunt work that most interns handle. Copies and shit. You have an interview with him tomorrow morning. It pays better than most jobs, and he’s willing to work around your schedule. We’ll have to update your resume…”

“What?” Erwin squeaked.

“What?” Levi echoes.

“Even if I do get this job, where am I going to live? How am I going to get to work? A job interview doesn’t magically fix everything. Not that I’m not grateful, I am-“

“Are you not listening? You’re moving in with me. Hence the furniture shopping,” Levi explained, almost bored.

“Live with you? But what if I still can’t make rent?”

“Did I say anything about paying rent. I make my rent payments just fine, thanks. What I need is someone who can do mundane things like laundry and grocery shopping. With the hours I work,it’s almost impossible to keep up with that shit. So, if you’re willing to wash my clothes and run to the grocery store, then consider us even. I’ll even let you use one of my cars.”

“Excuse me, what?”

“Is that all you can say? You’re supposed to be a grad student.”

“Why? Levi, why are you doing all this for me?” Erwin looked at Levi, big blue eyes bloodshot and weary.

“I told you. I need a housekeeper.”

“That’s it? You just need a housekeeper? So, you’re just going to buy me furniture and clothes, and find me a job because, what? You need help with the dishes?”

“Well, there is one more thing…”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“How do you feel about fundraisers?”

“Have I mentioned how much I hate shopping?” Erwin whined as he followed Levi past a rack of waistcoats.

“You need a decent suit. The one you have is on its last legs. Not to mention the cut isn’t quite right on you.” Levi held up a jacket in a deep navy three season wool. “We actually need to get you two suits. The second one for more formal occasions.”

“I can’t afford one suit from this place, let alone two. I’m sure I can find something passable at the department store.” Erwin grunted as Levi flung another jacket his way.

“Did I say anything about you paying? No, I don’t think that ever came up in conversation.”

“I have every intention of paying you back, but it will take a couple of decades at this rate.”

“Let’s settle this right now, Blondie. You are not paying me back. Let someone do something nice for you for once.”

“But Levi-“

“Would you like a dressing room?” The shop attendant greeted. “Mr. Arlert is with another customer right now, but maybe you can get a head start on cut and style.”

“Yes, he needs a dressing room. And could you point me toward your more formal styles?”

Erwin sighed. He knew he had just lost this battle, especially since his opponent seemed perfectly content to ignore him.

——

“Really, I’m fine with another futon.”

“Really, I’m not.” Levi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was this kid being so damn difficult?

“I’ve been sleeping on a futon just fine.”

“No, you’ve been sleeping on a glorified dog bed. You’re over six feet tall. You need a bigger bed. Besides, I refuse to allow that sad excuse of a shipping pallet inside my apartment. Real futons do not look like this.”

“But Levi, if I pick a frame then there is going to be mattresses and sheets and-“

“Yes, you will have adult furniture. Welcome to the dark side,” the older man deadpanned.

“Levi, I can’t afford this! Probably ever.” Erwin looked around the furniture store, trying to find something, anything, cheaper than what Levi was looking at.

“I keep telling you that you don’t have to afford it. I’m buying it.”

“And I’m not going to take advantage of your kindness.” Erwin ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Look, can’t we just go to IKEA or something? If I’m doing this, I’m doing this on a budget.”

“You’re missing the point here. I’m the one who determines the budget. It’s my money.”

“Well, I don’t like anything here.”

“You’re lying,” Levi accused.

“You don’t know that.”

“Erwin, there has to be something here you like.”

#eruri #erwin smith #levi ackerman #eruri fanfic

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phobiadeficient · 5 years ago

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Now ya got me curious, how about a sniperscout drabble where they actually have sex in a car?👀👀

anon im gonna level with you real quick, i wrote this and was halfway through the edit when i realized this specifically said ‘in a car’ so like. that’s my bad that’s on me like im sorry

Yes, Sniper lived in a shitty campervan that was roughly as old as a middle schooler. But that didn’t necessarily disqualify him from being someone who could appreciate a nice car.

And Scout had a nice car.

Their mercenary jobs were pretty high-paying. High-paying enough that Sniper knew he probably never had to work again. High-paying enough that Spy could afford the business expense of replacing his already ridiculously expensive suits on the weekly if they were damaged. High-paying enough that Medic could be constantly buying all sorts of organs from the black market on the regular just for experimentation purposes.

Scout was one of the mercenaries who decided to buy a nice car—Spy for business reasons, Demo because he needed a car and figured he might as well get one new. But Scout divulged to him at some point that finally he got the first paycheck that was entirely his own, most of it having gone back home to his family for at least a year to help them all live in better conditions than they’d all grown up in, to support all the families they themselves had started. And with that first paycheck, he got a very, very nice car.

A 1969 Chevrolet Camaro. Bright orange body, black stripes. Custom suspension, tinted windows, he even got a custom horn on the goddamn thing. The rims on it cost more than his entire van and everything in it, he was pretty sure. Newer than new. And the first thing Scout did when he got it was ask Sniper if he wanted to come along with him on a drive.

“Where?” Sniper asked.

“Fuck if I know,” Scout laughed, shrugged, and Scout standing there in his straight up regular clothes holding the keys to a car nicer than anything Sniper had ever sat in, even at a car show, for some reason he found that extremely hot.

They set out a little later that evening, and to be fair, Scout usually wasn’t a terrible driver. He just tended to forget the speed limit, or what exit he was supposed to take, and sometimes forgot when he had the turn signal on, and really did usually take things like suggested speeds on curving roads as a loose suggestion, or as he put it, “the speed that little bitches should take the curve at”.

But now he was absolutely tearing up the road, speeding wildly beyond the limit just because he could—just to see what he could do. And usually Sniper got on his case about it, but just then? Just then he would’ve been doing the exact same thing. Faster, even.

They put the windows down, and Sniper had to keep a tight hold on his hat and shades before they flew off into the desert. And he could barely even hear Scout’s cheering over the wind, but he could feel it rising up in his chest alongside his own pounding heartbeat.

He looked over at Scout, saw the way his eyes were lit up, the flush on his face, the adrenaline blowing his pupils wide, and bloody fucking hell but he’d never seen anyone look more alive than Scout did in that moment.

He directed Scout to pull over, there at a cliffside on one of the mesas, and the minute the parking brake was on he was leaning over the gearshift and kissing Scout like the world was ending.

Scout looked smug, mostly, pulling back and looking Sniper up and down. “Hyped about my hot car?” he asked, like he already knew, which apparently he did, because Sniper absolutely was. “Hey, check the glovebox.”

Sniper pulled away, a little confused, but did. His eyebrows shot up at the bottle that tumbled out of it.

“This why you asked me to come along?” Sniper asked, picking up the lube from the floorboards and raising an eyebrow at him.

“Also because I thought it would be fun. But yeah,” Scout agreed, eyes glittering.

Sniper popped open his own door. “Bend over the hood.”

It was a little chilly outside, so Scout kept his shirt on, but otherwise he stripped from the waist down. Sniper worked him open nice and slow, really made him beg for it, before grabbing him by the ankles and flipping him onto his back.

“What do you want, love?” He practically growled, Scout’s legs over his shoulders, leaning forward and very much enjoying watching Scout bend and bend and bend without discomfort.

“You fuckin’ know what I want—“ Scout mumbled, face flushed, and gasped when Sniper’s hand came down hard on his ass, head rolling back.

“I want to hear you say it,” Sniper said, even as he slicked himself up. “What do you want?”

“I want you to fuck me,” Scout said, more than a little desperate.

“There’s a love,” Sniper said, and pushed in, and gave Scout only a few seconds to adjust before he started moving.

Scout’s hand fell to the hood below him, desperately trying to find some kind of grip to get leverage to brace himself as he was pounded into. But there wasn’t one, and he was left practically helpless, rocking and moaning with abandon as their skin smacked almost violently together. Sniper’s hands went to brace Scout’s leg against his shoulder and to grip his hip, and was pleased with the restraint Scout had to not reach for himself when it became clear that Sniper wasn’t planning on it, just staying along for the ride.

At first, at least. Sniper drew him higher and higher into his pleasure, and soon he was left sweaty and flushed, starting to stain the bottom of his shirt as he started to leak onto it. Sniper let Scout’s legs drop from his shoulders to instead wrap around his waist, shoving up his shirt and getting his mouth all over Scout’s chest, one hand bracing on his shoulder as his thrusts slowed down into hard slams rather than almost frantic pounding.

Scout keened into it, hands tangling into Sniper’s hair. “Oh, fuck,” he managed to gasp, weak and desperate. “Fuck, please. Please.”

“Please what?” Sniper prompted, a growl against his ribcage before he moved to suck one nipple into his mouth roughly.

A mewl of pleasure, Scout starting to try to rock against him again, muscles coiling tight. “Please let me come, I wanna come,” he pleaded, voice pitched high and threatening to break.

He continued to beg, only with increasing fervor as Sniper slowed his pace even further, bringing his hand down on Scout’s ass a second time, a third. It was only when his words faded into incoherence that he picked the pace back up, reaching a hand between them to grip at Scout.

A gasp, practically a flinch. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” he managed, voice tight.

“You gonna come for me?” Sniper asked, pulling back enough to look at Scout’s face. His eyes were clenched shut tight, his mouth hanging open as he painted.

“Yeah,” Scout moaned, long and languid, writhing almost involuntarily against him. “Yeah, fuck!”

Scout came hard, legs squeezing around his waist almost to the point of crushing, spurting across his own chest and stomach and crying out Sniper’s title like salvation.

When he was finally finished, Sniper pulled out and let his legs drop from his waist, a controlled fall. Then he grabbed him by the ankles and flipped him over again, now onto his stomach, and pushed back in again.

A bark of surprise followed by a groan as Sniper went back to the previous pace, his own breath quick in his chest now.

“C’mon,” Scout urged breathlessly, pushing back into Sniper’s thrusts, trying and failing again to brace his hands against the hood. “C’mon, Snipes.”

It pushed him over the edge, Scout’s hands sliding desperately and uselessly over the hood beneath him, and he rocked forward a final one, two, three times before he spilled, legs locked, with a choked groan.

A few moments of panting, of trying to get air. Then he pulled out, and Scout managed to lean up on shaky elbows, looking down.

“You son of a bitch,” he swore, and leaned aside, twisting to glare at Sniper.

Sniper grinned, seeing Scout’s orgasm slicked over the hood, stark against the orange and black paint job, smeared between his stomach and the car alongside sweat and condensation where he’d been pushed up against it. It was like something out of a pinup magazine—gorgeous guy, pulled apart at the seams over the hood of a gorgeous car.

“It’ll buff out,” he assured, still grinning.

#//sniperscout #//car sex #//powerplay

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anastasiaskarsgard · 5 years ago

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ok but now you're obligated to write about single dad finding a lady it's the law and I will call the police if you don't

This is an old old ask that I never quite liked, but I’m just posting to clear it out

———————————————————

Alison was at a crossroads in her life. She was 25, a college graduate, that was a waitress at Hooters. She’d always said she only worked there, to get through school, but here she was more than two years done with school, still putting on those dumb orange shorts.

She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to do next, but she knew that she didn’t want to work Around a bunch of drunk idiots any more. She just didn’t have the capacity or tolerance for their antics anymore.

She decided to take a look online on various job seeking sites, seeing if anything caught her eye. She had a degree in psychology and her dream was to ultimately have her own space to bring people into, that wanted to balance their life, without relying on prescription drugs. Alternative treatments like Equine Therapy, Expressive Arts, Play therapy etc for individuals or families that set goals. Genuinely helping people was the ultimate goal, but she wasn’t quite ready for that yet, so she needed something new. An add for a live-in nanny caught her eye:

Single Professional Parent of two children under five years old seeking live in Nanny with no criminal record, drugs, or smoking. There will be a background check, driving record, and hair follicle drug test run on all serious applicants, to be completed and passed BEFORE meeting children. Email me for more information and I can discuss living arrangements, pay, benefits, children or any other details. I look forward to hearing from you!

Alison figured it was most likely a woman that had lost her old nanny or lost her significant other and needed someone to pick up the slack. She loved children, and she liked that she was adamant about all the tests and checks being completed before meeting the children. That was very refreshing. Her lease was up and she hadn’t signed a new one, so it actually was a great option. She typed out an introduction about herself, her relevant experience and qualifications and decided to just admit to being a waitress. She knew she’d have to include it in her background check, but she’d rather tell the woman in person, rather then be eliminated right away.

She sent it out, and figured she’d carry on with her day, when no more than twenty minutes went by and she had a reply from a Mark V. She was kind of surprised it was a man solely caring for two toddlers, but i guess deadbeat parents could be any sex. She wondered if the mother was possibly deceased. She opened the message:

Hello Alison!

You have no idea what a breath of fresh air your email was, after getting a bunch of crazy peoples’ replies. Let’s just dive right in, and I can tell you what I expect and if you can meet those needs.

I am the sole guardian of a 3 year old boy named Dakota, and an 18 month old little princess named Danielle. Neither one of their mothers is involved in their life which I worry about them, but with your degree, you probably know exactly how to approach that. I work Monday thru Friday 8am-6pm and very rarely a weekend, and would need you to care for the children, prepare their meals, and take them to their activities and classes throughout the week. I already have a cleaning lady, so as long as you’re not a slob, you’ll only need to do your laundry. You didn’t mention if you had a car or not, but I’d prefer you drove my Tesla anytime you have the children with you. I have a truck for myself, the Tesla is safest for kids. It pretty much drives for you and is very safe, so it gives me a false sense of security. Lol. What you do with your evenings and weekends is up to you. I ask that you only ever have very close friends and family over that are willing to get a background check. I pay for everything of course, I just don’t want a parade of unknown people around my kids. You’re room is a large bedroom, with your own bathroom, walk in closet and balcony. It’s not furnished, but I’d be willing to furnish it if you don’t have your own stuff. Pay is $750 per week, as well as full benefit package through my company Life/ dental/ medical/ vision etc at no out of pocket cost to you. You also will be issued a company credit card for any costs for activities you and the children venture out to do, and all the grocery and incidentals shopping. You can eat whatever you want, and I’d like you to feel comfortable. My children need a consistant female figure in their life and I need help. If this sounds fair to you, I’d like to meet you in person and give you the drug test lab forms and get your information to get your driving and background reports knocked out. If you don’t think you’ll pass any of these, please don’t waste my time. My office is at 111 s Main in that new glass office building. We are the entire twentieth floor. It’s 10am now, hoping you’re available at 1pm today. Let me know either way. Look forward to meeting you and hopefully hiring you. (Oh and just so it doesn’t seem like I’m moving too fast, I need a nanny like yesterday but won’t settle when it comes to my children) Although you’re a bit younger than I’d like; your degree, stable work and address history and willingness to take a hair follicle drug test are positive attributes in a person That will play a major role in my kids lives. Mark V. You can text me at 555-123-4567 as well!

Alison stared at the email a bit stunned. The pay, benefits, accommodations and credit card and car all sounded great but it’s a man. She was curious why both mothers skipped out on him or if he did this on purpose. Maybe they weren’t his kids and they were a friend or family member that died or something. Well what the hell. Anything was better than Hooters. She clicked reply

Hi Mark!

You sound too good to be true! I am totally ok with taking those tests, but i feel like I should inform you that I work at Hooters but want to leave. I have given notice that I’m seeking other employment so am free to leave that job. My lease is also up so this works out perfectly. Let me know if you’re ok with where I work and I can come meet you at 1. Hope to hear back! Oh and if I don’t, I’m just going to show up! Lol

Alison Clarke

She sent it and sat there nervously waiting to see a new email. There wasn’t really any problem with Hooters unless they were really conservative. Some of her very liberal feminist friends were very against the place too. She was just about to shut down when a new email arrived.

Thank you Alison!

I think this is going to work out great! I have no problem with chicken wings, and am not judgemental. See you at 1

Mark

‘What if he’s hot? No. I wonder how old he is. The kids are pretty young so he might not be very old. Girl! Forget it! You do not shit where you eat and no matter how hot your boss is, you don’t look at him as anything more than your paycheck.’

Alison jumped up to get ready, thrilled at the possibilities this job potentially presented. The more she thought about it, the more determined she became to see it through. With no bills, and $750 a week, she could save up for her own practice in no time.

‘What if he’s an unbearable asshole?’ She mused. ‘Fuck it. He can’t possibly be a bigger pain in the ass than the guys I deal with now.’

Famous last words.

#mark assassination nation #bill skarsgard mark #bill skarsgard #single dad mark #my writing

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alindakb · 5 years ago

Text

For Hire - by Alinda

Maybe there was a better way, a more decent way. Only Draco hadn’t found it until today. He’d tried to find a better job. One that would make his father proud, that wouldn’t kill his mother if she knew. Only no one wanted to hire him, wanted to be associated with a former Death Eater. He doesn’t blame them, if he had a choice he also wouldn’t want to be associated with himself. Not after all he’d had to do just to stay alive. To earn some money to buy food and pay the rent of his little room in muggle London.

It isn’t like he didn’t try to get a job in the Muggle world when all his options in the Wizarding world had dried up. But they had wanted a social security number and a copy of his passport. And as a pure-blood wizard, he didn’t have those. He was never registered when born. His parents had never seen the need for it. He was in the wizarding records, why would the Muggles need to know he excited. If had been up to them Draco would have never interacted with them for his entire life.

How wrong they had been. How wrong Draco had been. Disillusioned by his upbringing, by his status and riches. He knows better now. He’s not royalty, not any better than others. He’s just a boy with a pretty face and a wanted body. It pays the rent, pays for his food, and sometimes even some new clothes. Nobody he meets gives a shit that his name is Malfoy, or care about his strange tattoo on his arm. No, they just want him to strip so they can use him. Sometimes they are decent, sometimes they are rough, but most of the time they just want to get off. Draco stopped counting how many men had fucked him. Most of the time without a condom, unaware of the protection spell Draco would cast without saying a word. He’s at no risk but they pay him for it anyway.

At least Draco doesn’t have to stand at a street corner waiting for a lucky stop. No, he turned out to be so popular that people have to book him. His pimp mails him his schedule every week. A different hotel every day, multiple rooms in an evening. It’s not how Draco had wanted to lose his virginity. He’d been a good boy, saved himself for marriage. Until it was clear that marriage wasn’t in the books anymore and Draco was starving. He’d cried afterwards, alone in his damp room. Just like he will once he’s done with his latest client. The ghost from his past he never wanted to see again.

“This is awkward,” Potter says. He pushes his hand through his hair. Draco lets out a forced laugh. Awkward doesn’t even come close.

“I asked for a pretty blond, someone who wouldn’t ask questions and be willing to go bareback. I hate using condoms when spells work just as fine. But I guess you already know that.”

“Stop rambling, Potter,” Draco tells him. “I don’t need to know why your here, just tell me what you want so we can get this over with.”

Potter shakes his head. “I don’t think I can.”

“Well, for fuck shakes, then we don’t do anything. As long as you don’t leave this room before your time is up, I don’t care. But you are not costing me my paycheck.”

Potter walks up and down the room. He looks at the floor and just paces. Draco really hopes he won’t leave right now. He’s Draco’s only customer this evening and the boss will hear if he left early. Draco won’t see any money and get punished for dissatisfying the customer. It has happened once, and Draco never wants to live to anything like that again. His ass had hurt for days, and the bruises wouldn’t heal, no matter how hard Draco tried to cast them away.

“I’ve looked for you, after you disappeared. I never thought about looking in the Muggle world.”

“The sole reason I’m here,” Draco says. He doesn’t know what else he should say. Why the fuck would Potter look for him in the first place. It’s not like there was anyone who would miss him. Not with his father dead and his mother in Azkaban. Not even Potter his testimony could keep her out of there. The only reason Draco got away was the fact that he was a minor for most of his crimes.

“You’re wanted now for bailing your parole,” Potter continues. He stops pacing and looks at Draco.

“Figures. So if they ever find me they’ll throw me in Azkaban. Maybe even let me have a chat with my mother.”

“Fuck, you don’t know,” Potter says.

“Don’t know what? They finally closed down Azkaban?”

“No, Malfoy. Your mother. When she heard you were missing. Well, she was sure you were dead, killed by some fanatic that wanted vengeance. She lost it and attacked the Dementors.”

Malfoy sits down on the bed. He looks at his hands. All this time he was afraid that his mother would find out one day what he had to do to survive. Only to learn that she will never know.

“Is she dead?” Draco whispers.

Potter sits down next to him. He places his arm around Draco’s back and for the first time, Draco doesn’t feel like he’s being violated.

“She got the kiss. I believe her body survived another month or two.”

Draco feels the tears roll down his cheek before he can stop them. He’s an orphan. Has been one for over a year.

“I made sure she got buried in your family grave. Almost lost my job because of it. But I owed her my life, it was the least I could do.”

“Thank you,” Draco whispers. He wants to crawl home and hide underneath his dirty blanket. But he’s stuck here, in a hotel room with Potter for at least another three hours. And for the very first time, Draco hates being a boy for hire.

#fanfic #drarry #Draco Malfoy #bad news #trying to survive #AlindasStories

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hustlemeanokay · 4 years ago

Text

Warning - this got a little long winded... but it’s something that I just... I get long winded about lol. Also - I’m not trying to rag on anyone in the UK who dreams of living here... though I don’t understand it. It’s just - you should be aware and I don’t see this said enough. Yes, it’s delivered in a very passionate way, because it’s shit that is frustrating for people who live here. And I know the UK is far from perfect but the things that y’all do have down, y’all have it down pat.

Okay, I get that the US isn’t a completely horrible place to live, currently. Like, we don’t get jailed for saying Trump’s a complete and total fucking moron. See, I can say that and not have my door busted in and be hauled off to some hole in the ground as a political prisoner.

But when I hear people who live in, like, the UK saying they want to move to America... I swear my left eye twitches just a little bit. Like, I get it - the grass is always greener and all that but... seriously? Are... are they serious when they say that? They... they’re aware of the problems... right?

Not the social and political problems - those are everywhere. There’s racism and sexism everywhere, there’s corrupt politicians everywhere. That’s not what I’m talking about - yes those things need to be worked on but their virtually identical no matter where you are.

I’m talking about things like... health care. Paid time off. Employment laws. The cost of college. The cost of retirement. Fuck, the cost of living. Those things. These systemic problems that are just... glazed over. That effect every single person in this fucked up country. Unless you’re of the super rich - every single one of these things are a problem for you.

Health care. They’re trying to get the whole pre-existing condition thing rolling again. Where, and I’m not even kidding, Trump’s dumbass admin is trying to roll back the Affordable Care Act - which would once again put pre-existing conditions back into play... which pregnancy was considered a pre-existing condition. I wish I was making this up. That’s just a small window into how fucked the system was and could so very easily be again. By the way, the ACA didn’t happen until the mid-90′s. So my generation is the first that was able to actually get pregnancy fucking covered under insurance with no bitch-sessions. And, just for comparison - for the UK peoples out there, we paid over $4000 for the delivery of our son over ten years ago and we had extremely good insurance then that we paid over $800 a month for at the time. That was just his bill, not mine. Just for him. Also - for example... we have insurance, it’s not great insurance but it’s insurance. We pay about $100 a week for it through my husband’s company now. And, to date, this year... we’ve paid... out of pocket, not including the company’s one time benefit of $1500 on an HSA card which is nice but ultimately gone in a heartbeat, so, out of our pocket... not including premiums... we’ve paid almost $10,000 in medical expenses. Only $1000 of it is out of ordinary, for my husband’s procedure that he had to have. The rest has all been RX’s, doctor’s visits, and labs. So yea. There’s that.

Paid time off. You’re fucking lucky if you get any of that here. That’s why companies tout it as being a benefit. “Oh, this company has good benefits” Good benefits = they actually offer insurance, doesn’t mean it’s good - and you get some semblance of paid time off. Companies here aren’t required to pay you anything extra for working on national holidays and they don’t have to give you any paid vacation or sick days, at all. They are only required to give you maternity leave of 6 weeks or paternity leave, if you request it but none of that is required to be paid either. There’s Family Leave, also not paid time off. And, they will and can do anything to get around paying time and a half for overtime. And, getting into the whole Employment laws thing - companies rely on people not knowing the laws so they can get away with shady ass shit. This happens everywhere, from the corner store and the fucking McDonald’s all the way up to corporate offices.

College. HA! There are a million bright brilliant people in this country that don’t have a degree because they couldn’t afford to go to college. Or, their parents made just a smidge too much for them to qualify for financial aid and they didn’t want to be burred under a mountain of debt. We’re talking tens of thousands of dollars of debt, what a way to start your life out, huh? Four years at a University? You’re easily looking at $40,000 plus. Easy. Like, wouldn’t be hard to do at all and that’s not even the “best” University either. That’s just like... that one over there. Oh, and student loans? Yeah, interest is charged on those bitches too. Can’t pay them? Oh don’t worry, you can put them on hold for like 36 collective months or something, but they’ll still accrue interest the entire time. And that interest isn’t fixed either, it’s variable. So, good luck with that.

Retirement? Fuck that. You better hope and pray that social security is still around. For some, even if you do what you’re supposed to and can actually squirrel some away for retirement - you can have some rich fat fuck in an office somewhere decide that he wants your money instead and bam, your retirement is just gone. And that’s assuming you can even afford to have any of your paycheck set aside. Because the cost to live in this country can be insane. True, there are rural places where the cost of living is cheaper but you also don’t get paid shit there either.

And you still have medical bills when you’re old. What about Medicare, you might be wondering? Oh - you mean medical insurance for the elderly? That shit’s not free anymore. Sure, going to the doctor might be. But if you need an ambulance, you’re still fucked. If you need a prescription? You’d better hope you signed up during that small window for your prescription drug plan, which carries a monthly premium, so you can get your prescriptions. Because, old people never need those, right? And what about care? Well, Medicare will cover some care, like certain kinds of home health care. But not all. And if you need to go into a nursing facility for longer than 100 days? You’d better hope you got buku bucks because Medicare only pays for 100 days. Then, you’d better magically grow younger or some shit. Or, hope you’ve been paying for nursing home insurance. And, hope you’ve been updating that policy to reflect the insane rising costs of those places. Or, if you’re lucky, hope you’ve got family that will help take care of you. To get Medicaid though, you can’t have more than $2000 in assets, at all. That includes life insurance policies with cash values. You can keep your house and like one car but that’s it - and you can’t rent that house out or sell that car once you get Medicaid or you’re benefits can be interrupted because somehow, you can turn $500 into $2000 or something. And - this is the really shitty part, say you are in a nursing home and you do manage to get Medicaid. Medicare still won’t pay a dime to the facility but Medicaid will. But... they’ll also take your entire social security check minus $60 a month. So, if you do still have a house and a car to worry about that you cannot rent out, you’ll have to somehow make that $60 pay for any incidentals you might need (think soap... toothpaste... deodorant... your favorite candies... you get the idea) and for property taxes... insurances... all of that. So... good luck with that.

Basically... the slogan here is that you can have the American dream if you work hard. But what they don’t tell you is that even if you do get it? You’re probably not going to be able to keep it.

You can work your ass off your whole life, get that house, build a small business, make it. Not get filthy rich, but do okay. And then you get old and can’t work anymore but it’s okay - you’ve managed to save a little and you’ve got your social security so you’ll be okay. Until you get sick. Or your health starts to go downhill. Then, you’ll watch all that you worked so hard for have to be sold off just to pay your medical bills and go to pay for your care. If you’re lucky, you’ve got kids that can help. But someone, either you or them, is going to have to lose something in order to pay for your care.

If you aren’t rich, you’ll still not be able to make it. There’s never a break.

For a country that’s all about freedom... you’ll never have a single moment where you’ll be free.

And for those in the UK starting to go off about VAT. We still pay taxes. We pay sales tax, property taxes, extra taxes added to our gasoline, to the liquor, to the tobacco products, to fucking tampons! We pay licensing fees, renewal fees, tag fees, registration fees, vehicle sales taxes and title fees. We pay federal income taxes, many states pay state income taxes, fuck - some cities have city income taxes. We have toll roads and toll bridges. We still pay taxes on top of all of this. So give me fucking VAT any god damned day of the week if it means I can go to the fucking doctor and not drop $200 fucking bucks just for them to renew the same fucking prescription I’ve been on for years so I can go to the pharmacy and pay $30 for a generic RX for one month.

#the us isn't what people think it is outside the us #there are very real money issues that people face every day #and everyone faces them #health care #work home life #paid vacations #college #taxes #retirement #long winded #uk #not to rag on anyone #you should just be aware

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ghostofviperwrites · 5 years ago

Text

One Word

Requested by: @monstersmaid

Featuring: Evil, Naito, Sanada, Bushi/FC

Category: Smut

Word Count: 3975

Warnings: M/M/M/M/F smut. No slash. Language. Drinking.

23. “I deserve something nice for putting up with you.”

Aya had to hold back her laugh as Manamie, the head of Human Resources, spoke with worry evident in her eyes. One month in and she had called Aya into her office to make sure everything was running smoothly as Los Ingobernables newest personal assistant. At the start of her employment Aya had been warned about these boys, but soon found it all overboard. They were sweet as kittens far as she was concerned.

“No need to worry Manamie. I have these boys eating out of my hand.” Aya said with a cocky grin as she left her office.

Aya didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. Flash them a pretty smile, a little flirting and they were putty. All that was needed to keep them in line was a strong confident woman who could play their own game better than them.

“Hi boys,” Aya greeted with a wide smile as she walked in their locker room, making sure she didn’t show any outward reaction to Bushi standing in just a towel or Naito’s naked ass on full display as he ruffled through his duffle bag.

“You ready for your interview Sanada?” Aya asked the quiet man, bringing his attention up from his phone. He stared at her speculatively for a moment and Aya briefly worried that he was going to give her some of the infamous attitude she had been warned about. Instead he nodded and turned to grab his suit jacket.

“What did Manamie want?” Naito asked as he stepped into his trunks.

“Oh she was just surprised I had lasted a month with you guys with no issues. Wanted to make sure everything was running smoothly.” Aya told him. “Nothing important.”

“You’ve lasted a month?” Evil spoke up, his dark eyes focusing on their assistant. “I didn’t realize it had been that long already.” He looked around the room at his brothers.

“One month.” Evil said again his hand raising to stroke the beard on his chin. “Interesting. Maybe Aya deserves something for lasting so long.”

“I deserve something nice for putting up with you.” Aya deadpanned with a grin, the group of them laughing a bit too heartily at her little joke. It wasn’t that funny.

“I’m sure we can come up with something nice for the woman who has us eating out her hand.” Evil said softly.

It wasn’t until she was walking down the hallway with Sanada that it occurred to her that Evil had used the exact phrasing she had used with Manamie. Shaking it off as a coincidence Aya herded Sanada into the car to drive him over to his interview with Tokyo Sports Magazine.

He ignored her for most of the ride as was his usual M.O., nose buried in the phone while she snuck glances at his perfect profile from the driver’s seat. It wasn’t until Aya pulled into a parking space that she noticed his attention focused on her.

“We should celebrate.” Sanada said flashing a smile that stole Aya’s breath. If she had been standing Aya was certain her knees would be weak. She hadn’t been the recipient of that particular smile before and damn if it wasn’t lethal.

“Celebrate?” Aya asked after a moment, not quite sure what they had to celebrate.

“It’s been a long time since someone made it to the one month mark with us.” Sanada said casually as he climbed out of the car. Ava hurriedly locked the car and practically jogged to keep up with his long strides, finally reaching his side. “You should let me take you out tonight.”

Her steps stuttered noticeably, Sanada’s smile shifting into a smirk making her try to mask her stumble by pretending she got a rock in her shoe. Sanada graciously offered his arm for Aya to hold onto while she shook the invisible pebble from her shoe, hanging on a bit too long for a professional relationship.

“Age-ha? 9:00?” He asked flashing that killer smile again that had her readily agreeing with a wide grin that was surely too eager but Aya couldn’t contain it. Not only was she going on a date with the Sanada, but he was taking her to the most exclusive club there was. One that was impossible to get into unless you knew the right people. Aya was practically bouncing throughout the rest of the day feeling on top of the world.

When they made it back to the venue and Sanada gave Aya the rest of the afternoon off to get herself ready, it was icing on the cake. Aya had been worrying whether she had anything that wouldn’t make her stick out like a sore thumb in the upscale atmosphere at Age-Ha and now she had time to go buy a new outfit just for tonight. Something that was going to blow Sanada’s socks off and make him not even look at another woman.

When Aya answered the door later that evening, the way Sanada’s eyes raked over her form when he saw her in the deep purple and gold Prada mini dress was well worth blowing an entire paycheck on it. She would be eating noodles for the next month, but it was money well spent. Besides Aya was hoping this would blossom into more than one date and Sanada could feed her a few times to offset the cost.

Aya smiled adoringly at Sanada as he handed her into the low Lamborghini, his hand lingering on her waist and brushing over her ass as she slid in. He didn’t talk much on the drive which Aya didn’t mind. She was growing used to Sanada’s penchant for quiet. As they drove, Aya reflected on the evening ahead instead of trying to make conversation, working to suppress the giddy giggles that wanted to fill the air as she stared out the lights flashing past the windows.

At Age-Ha

Evil sipped on his scotch as he watched Naito pacing around Sanada’s private room at the club, tugging at the collar of his button down shirt with a frown on every turn.

“I can’t believe you wore one of your ring suits here. Where’s your class Naito?” Bushi scoffed, rolling his eyes to make his thoughts about Naito’s suit choice abundantly clear as he smoothed down the coat of his own Louis Vuitton suit.

“Those are the only suits I have.” Naito argued with a flick of his middle finger in Bushi’s direction. “I hate these places. Gotta wear a fucking suit. Sanada pays enough to this club. We should be able to wear our underwear if we want.”

“Morons.” Evil said with a shake of his head at his two arguing brothers. “You’re in a private room now Naito. Take the shit off if you want. Dress code only applies down on the floor.”

Naito did just that, making quick work of shedding his white suit revealing the tank top and athletic shorts hidden underneath before tossing it aside in a heap. Now that he was comfortable he lay across the lounger after grabbing a bottle from the bucket of ice in the middle of the seating area. He wasn’t a huge fan of the fancy imported beers this place carried, but they didn’t stock the cheap domestics he preferred so he would make do.

Bushi poured himself a glass of wine then moved over to the windows overlooking the dance floor. Bushi wasn’t much of a dancer, but he did enjoy watching the bodies writhing on each other. The upper crusts of society and they reduced themselves to nothing more than panting bodies, no different than those they looked down upon.

“Sanada’s here.” Bushi announced as he spotted their blonde haired friend walk through the entrance with Aya in tow.

Down on the floor Sanada ushered Aya through the crowd towards the stairs that lead to the private quarters. Hand on her hip he guided her up the marble staircase and turned down the hallway leading to his suite.

“Oh,” Aya pulled up short as she stepped inside finding all of her charges scattered throughout the room. “I didn’t realize they were all going to be here.”

“What? Did you think this was a date?” Sanada scoffed leaving her side and joining Bushi near the window to survey the crowd below.

Aya stood hesitantly in the doorway feeling off kilter with the sudden change in plans. Not once had Sanada said anything to lead her to believe this wasn’t a date. She felt a bit foolish for assuming, but wasn’t going to let it ruin her evening. Plastering on a smile Aya moved over to the opulent seating area, sitting perched at the very end of one of the sectionals.

“Aya, don’t be shy.” Naito called from the other end. “Come join us.”

He patted the space between him and Evil expectantly.

Aya pushed aside the nerves bubbling over and stood, walking slowly towards the two men, carefully stepping over Evil’s feet and settling on the edge of the cushion.

A startled cry flew from her lips as Naito grabbed her and pulled her back to sit fully on the couch his arm draped over her shoulders.

“Stop being so uptight,” Naito laughed as Evil leaned forward to pour Aya a glass of wine. “This is supposed to be fun.”

Her questions were cut off as a waitress knocked and quietly entered the room, approaching Sanada for instructions. Aya smiled at Evil as he handed her a glass of red wine, humming in appreciation as she took a sip of the rich liquid.

The waitress made her way over to take their orders followed by Sanada and Bushi who took up the half of the couch Aya had vacated. Only after she left the room and Aya found herself the center of attention did her nerves return.

“This is a pretty dress,” Naito said softly, his index finger slipping under the shoulder strap and stroking her skin. “Did you buy it just to impress Sanada?”

Aya blushed because that was exactly what she had done. Her earlier embarrassment returning as she remembered Sanada’s scoffing words.

“You know Sanada doesn’t date right?” Bushi spoke up. “He just fucks.”

“You would think you had picked that up in the past month." Naito said with a slow shake of his head as he chuckled.

Sanada smirked, leaning back against the couch and sipping at the glass of wine in his hand as he stared at Aya with an unreadable expression.

“Did you think you were special?” Evil asked, his voice low and deep forcing Aya to strain to hear him, leaning slightly in his direction. “The girl who has LIJ eating out of the palm of her hand? Did you think you could tame him?”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Aya asked. “I never said that.”

Evil’s countenance shifted, his thick lips curving into a sneer and fingers clenching as he glared at her.

“Don’t lie to me.” Evil snapped. “You think Manamie was going to keep your little secret? That she wouldn’t let me know exactly what you said in that meeting? Manamie answers to me.”

Aya jumped as Naito’s arm tightened around her and pulled her closer to his side. Naito’s fingers danced tantalizingly up her arms leaving goosebumps in their wake leaving Aya struggling to focus amid the feelings that were getting awoken by Naito’s soft touch.

“Don’t be mean Evil,” Naito chastised him grinning as the stiffness in Aya’s shoulders minutely retreated. “Aya was just running her mouth. She didn’t mean it. Did you Aya?” Naito’s hand came up to rest on the crook of her neck, his thumb stroking over the soft skin in a soothing motion.

“No. I didn’t mean it,” She implored Evil to believe her with wide eyes. Having the intimidating man angry at her was not a situation she wanted to court. “I was just trying to make myself look good. I mean, she is my boss.”

“I’m your boss first.” Evil sniffed but he leaned back seemingly relaxing which calmed Aya’s nerves considerably now that he seemed less angry.

Aya let herself be held against Naito, relaxing into his hold. He wasn’t the man whose arms she had thought she would be in tonight, but Naito was far from a disappointment. Plus he really seemed to appreciate her dress given the way his hands kept flitting over it. Given that Sanada had barely paid her any mind since they had arrived this was probably an upgrade all around.

Food was delivered and the drinks flowed, conversation passing around Aya as she nibbled at the decadent food, eyes closing in pleasure as flavors exploded in her mouth. Naito stayed in constant contact with her body, his fingers leaving a trail of desire in their wake as the danced along her skin, skipping from her arms to her face and down to her thighs never lingering in any area for long and making her fidget as he left her wanting.

“Were you planning to get fucked tonight Aya?” Evil’s blunt inquiry startled Aya out of her pleasant haze, her dark eyes flying to his face.

“I’m not going to answer that,” She said with a stubborn tilt of her chin. “It’s none of your business.”

Naito shifted wrapping an arm around Aya’s waist and pulling her onto his lap, his hand dipping down to slide along her calf and up her thigh.

“Freshly shaven legs,” Naito confirmed as Aya wriggled in his grip, her face turning beet red under their scrutiny. “Now if you’re wearing some sexy panties then we know you were going to spread your legs for Sanada.”

Aya looked over at Sanada who was watching the interaction with amusement clear on his face.

“Let me go Naito.” Aya ordered. “What I’m wearing doesn’t confirm anything.”

“So you are wearing sexy panties.” Bushi affirmed. “No way you put those on not thinking about Sanada’s dick.”

“Yet there she is letting Naito paw all over her.” Sanada pointed out. “How quickly her affections shifted.”

“You’re the one who said this wasn’t a date.” Aya argued. “And you’ve ignored me since we got here. I’m supposed to sit around waiting for you?”

Sanada chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass as he stared at her until she squirmed uncomfortably.

“I don’t have to pay attention to you.” He said confidently. “All I have to do is say the word and your lips will be around my dick.”

Aya scoffed rolling her eyes at the arrogant man, her attention focused on Sanada and barely noticing Naito pushing the straps of her dress down her arms.

“I don’t care what word you say. My lips won’t be anywhere near your dick.” Aya sneered feeling infuriated as Sanada simply shrugged clearly not believing her.

Naito’s lips on her neck brought Aya’s attention back to him and Aya smiled smugly at Sanada as she leaned into his touch. Naito sucked deeply on the flesh of her throat, his tongue pressing into the skin while his hands continued pushing down her dress.

“Naito!” Aya chastised her arms flying to her chest when she realized how low he had pulled it, her nipples barely concealed. One more tug and she would have been spilling out of her top.

“Shhh, baby.” Naito murmured kissing her neck. “Let me make you feel good.” Aya’s protests were swallowed by a gasp as Naito bit her neck and his hands moved to her breasts. Pushing aside her hands he squeezed them tightly, his fingers finding her pebbled nipples and giving them a firm pinch.

“Don’t you want to show Sanada what he’s not going to touch?” Naito cajoled. “Make him stare at you, wishing he could have you? You want to show him what he’s missing out on don’t you?”

In Aya’s head somehow Naito’s words made sense, her pride rankled at Sanada thinking he could treat her like garbage and still fuck her. She could show him what he wouldn’t get to touch. Sensing her capitulation Naito grinned behind her yanking down her dress and baring her tits to the room.

She felt smug as the center of attention, her eyes focusing on Sanada with a tilt of her chin. She grew frustrated when he didn’t seem overly enamored of her charms. She wanted him to stare at her with lust, to beg her to fuck him. Throwing her head back against Naito’s shoulder Aya moaned loudly as he pinched her nipples, pulling them with a tight grip as he mauled her neck.

Another pair of hands on her knees had her eyes flowing up, looking down at Evil kneeling on the floor and pushing her legs apart with ease.

“Don’t fight him,” Naito’s voice in her ear had Aya’s attention diverted. “Just think how jealous Sanada is going to get when you let Evil touch you too.”

Her mind was yelling at her to put a stop to this, but her stubborn pride was finding logic in Naito’s argument. Pushing her misgivings aside Aya allowed Evil to kneel between her thighs, his hands pushing her dress up her legs until it was bunched at her waist. The obscenely expensive silk panties she had bought just for tonight were ripped from her and thrown aside without care, Aya’s protests lost in Naito’s mouth as he jerked her chin around to kiss her.

Evil’s fingers found her soaking heat, two thick long digits pressing inside her making Aya moan as they curled deep within her pussy. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Evil as he pumped his fingers in and out of her cunt, his dark eyes locked on her face as she panted under his ministrations. The sight of the intimidating dominant man on his knees before her was too much for Aya and with a strangled cry she came around his fingers.

With a half-smile Evil pulled his fingers free and grabbed Aya by the hips yanking her body to his. Naito shuffled to his feet, dropping his shorts to the floor and sitting back down as Evil flipped Aya around and pushed her head towards Naito’s cock. Naito had her lips wrapped around him in quick order as Evil pushed Aya up onto the couch so she was kneeling in front of his face, her pussy spread open for everyone to see. Lowering his face to her folds Evil swiped his tongue along her slit making Aya shudder as she swallowed Naito’s cock.

Grabbing her hips Evil held her in place as he worked her cunt with his mouth and tongue making Aya whimper around Naito as he guided her head along his dick. She cried out as Evil’s lips attached to her clit and sucked hard his tongue pushing at her clit, hands holding her firm so she couldn’t squirm away as pleasure roared through her. Naito kept his hand firmly on her head, keeping her sucking on his cock as Evil’s mouth tormented her.

With a sharp bite to her pulsing clit Evil removed his mouth, swiping his tongue through her folds and making Aya orgasm once again. Pulling her off his cock Naito swung Aya around to face Evil who climbed to his feet, hand searching for his buckle and freeing his cock. Aya gaped at the thickness pressed against her lips, wondering how she was going to fit it in her mouth. She wasn’t given much time to wonder as Naito pulled her back to sit on his cock, sinking himself into her dripping heat as Evil stepped forward and pressed his cock past her lips. Aya gagged around him as the weight of his dick pressed her tongue down Evil rocking his hips to burying himself into the back of her throat.

Eyes watering she breathed through her nose and tried to relax around him as Evil set the pace he wanted his movements in contrast to the thrusting motions of Naito below her.

Bushi appeared to the side of her, his cock in hand and without thinking Aya reached for it, wrapping around the length, barely able to get her hand around him. She had heard that Bushi was packing a huge member, and she was experiencing it firsthand. Briefly her mind wandered to Sanada, her view blocked by Evil’s thick body and she wondered whether he was enjoying watching them use her. If he was aching to join in just yet.

Naito’s thrusts turned erratic, his hands tightening on her ass snapping at Evil to give him her mouth. Evil pulled free, letting Naito yank her head back around once again and shoving his cock in her mouth. Pulling at her hips Evil lined himself with her hole and thrust to the hilt while Naito moved out of the way for Bushi to settle on the couch. Naito pulled on his shorts and grabbed another beer, laying out on the lounger again as he watched the two men take their turns with Aya.

Evil fucked her hard and deep, his nails raking down her back making Aya cry out with every pass around Bushi’s cock. Bushi reached beneath Aya’s body and played with her tits his fingers pulling at her nipples, twisting and teasing them into hardened pebbles as she bobbed along his length, struggling to get it all into her mouth.

Pulling free of her pussy Evil sat down on the couch and pulled Aya’s mouth to his cock, her hand automatically reaching to stroke Bushi, her movements stuttering as she finally got a glimpse of Sanada. Only he wasn’t panting after her like she had hoped. No, his attention was focused solely on the pretty waitress he had bent over the back of the couch, his cock buried deep inside her, his back facing Aya.

She was caught off guard when Evil spurted into her throat, choking around his seed and coughing sending it splattering back over his stomach and dick.

Furious Evil grabbed her hair and twisted it around his fist and pushed her head back to his lap.

“Clean it.” He ordered holding her in place until every drop was licked off his body. Only then did he push her back to Bushi who had her straddling his cock in no time, grinning as Aya winced as his cock stretched her already sore pussy.

Bushi brought her mouth to his, tongue pushing past her lips as Aya got comfortable and began moving her body on his, sliding along his length as Bushi’s fingers played with her clit. His mask felt strangely erotic against her face, and Aya moaned as she stroked his tongue with hers, mind racing as she imagined what this mysterious man looked like beneath his mask. Bushi kept the pressure on her clit, rubbing her raw as she chased another orgasm, crying out and clamping around his cock as she came for the third time barely coming down before Bushi pushed her down on her knees and the tip of his cock just past her lips before he coated her tongue.

Breathing heavily Aya turned on her knees catching view of Sanada once again and watching as he pulled out of the waitress and dismissed her with a sharp command. The waitress pulled down her skirt and scurried from the room leaving Aya alone with the men again.

She stared at Sanada with wide eyes focused on his hand that was stroking his cock still glistening with the waitresses’s juices. Her endorphins were singing inside her, body pulsing from the pleasure it had received thus far and she was hungry for more.

“Suck.” He ordered Aya. Without a second thought she scurried over to him on all fours, kneeling in front of Sanada and opening her mouth, taking his cock in her mouth and sucking him deeply.

“See?” He told Aya as she bobbed along his cock. “One word is all I takes.”

#lij fanfic #lij imagine #njpw fanfic #wrestling fanfic #los ingobernables de japon fanfic #mywriting #ghostofviperwrites

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