#because everyone must partake in my trashiness. everyone

[angelic-guardienne]

If you're the friend that I drag into ffxv, these are the kind of shitposts you'll find waiting for you.

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Ransom Drysdale Must Die (Chapter One)

Summary: Ransom Drysdale is a serial cheater. The only way to get him to pay for what he’s done is for him to die. Or at least be extremely humiliated. As long as you don’t fall for him.

Pairings: Eventual Ransom Drysdale x black!reader, Ransom Drysdale x Multiple OC’s

Warnings: Swearing. Eventual smut.

(Author’s Note: I was watching John Tucker must die and it made me think of my favorite sweater wearing murder daddy.)

Tags: @night-of-the-living-shred​

Word Count: 2.0k

It's not that you were invisible. You preferred to think of it as keeping a low profile. Growing up, you didn't really have a choice but to keep things to yourself. What was the point of trusting people if all you were going to do was leave? You couldn't make friends or keep them if you'd be moving in another four to six months anyway. Not that it was your choice.

It started at a really young age. Technically before you were even born. Your mom had been a teen parent. Your dad didn't stick around which was all you knew about him. It didn't take long for you to get used to the myriad of men walking in and out of your life. Then you got used to seeing your mom, your only constant, getting treated like garbage over and over and over.

She never had an issue with dating. It was them sticking around that was apparently tricky. The problem is that when it would happen the same thing always happened. She'd binge on chocolate. Use you as a shoulder to cry on. Then you'd be moving to flee into the next city. It was kind of fucked up.

While she cried over the hundredth guy your nose was either buried in a book or painting which had been your only escape. You never wanted to judge your mom. She didn't deserve to always have her heartbroken. But, you also didn't deserve having a mom that wanted to pack up at the first sign of trouble. She didn't seem to get that.

As an adult, you promised yourself that you would find one place and stick to it. It might have hurt your mom a little to watch you go, but she understood that you had to go away for college and stuff. Which is how you ended up in Boston. You kind of remember living in Boston once back in the day. You liked the winters surprisingly and the way the trees looked in the fall. You remembered being happy which is why it sucked so much to leave.

You’d gotten your degree, but finding a job had been difficult. Which is how you ended up working at this country club. Though you could live without all the snobby rich people being total assholes, at least they tipped well. You mostly waitress in the clubhouse where it was usually the older crowd and the families that sucked up to them for the inheritance.

It was also how you first noticed him. Hugh Ransom Drysdale. From the moment you laid eyes on him you could tell he was dangerous. Just like those men, your mother would fall for that would inevitably break her heart. That same air of arrogance hanging over him like a cloud, except much better looking with a trust fund to go along with it.

He insisted everyone in the clubhouse call him Hugh. Which according to everyone is what he insists the help call him. God, he's a fucking asshole.

You remember the first time you talked to him. He was so enchanting. It was annoying. He was like Gaston come to life. Just as handsome, just as charming, just as scummy. Sure he made those white polos he wore to play golf look like he'd just stepped off a shoot for GQ. His gaze was enough to make any woman swoon. Even you as much as you hated to admit it.

It'd been one of the few times you'd worked at the bar. Someone had called out and being the new girl you were told to take their spot. "Sweetheart, be useful and get me a bourbon," he'd said in this rude tone.

"Not even a please?" You muttered under your breath as you turned your back to get a glass.

"What was that?" He asked, with a quirk in his eyebrow.

You kissed your teeth before turning back to him,  "Excuse me?" You plastered a sweet smile on your face.

"You got something to say? Say it." He challenged.

You shook your head. "I didn't... I didn't say anything."

He chuckled. "Okay, lo-"

Your jaw dropped as you put your hand on your chest. "Oh my god, Sir, if you're already drunk I can't serve you. You'd be a liability."

"That's a big word. Did they teach you that in community college?" The glare in his eye was intense and you couldn't help it as a smile spread across your face.

"Actually I think I learned it from where you get your trust fund."

You were surprised when he laughed. But, not that little sarcastic chuckle. Like an actual laugh. "Usually I'd call the manager over and enjoy them firing you in front of me, but lucky for you I'm in a good mood and kind of enjoying this. Now get me my bourbon."

"One bourbon coming up." You shrugged.

You talked with him for the rest of your shift surprisingly. The conversation going from hostile to surprisingly pleasant. He’d told you about some issue he’d been having with his grandfather that he hadn’t told the rest of his family he laughed at the idea of them finding out. Said he couldn’t wait to see the look on their faces when they found out everything was going to the nurse.

It was the trashy rich people drama that you craved.

“I know there’s gonna be a lot of bullshit when they find out they aren’t getting that house,” he’d scoffed, looking up at you from his drink.

“I’d be pissed too,” you replied. “I’m sure that house looks like a museum. I’d love to see it.”

“It’s insane.” He nodded. “Imagine like a horror museum with one of those escape rooms.”

You laughed. “So like plastic spiders? Cobwebs? Ghosts!” What a turn around this had been from the initial conversation the two of you were having.

“Not at all,” he said laughing. “It’s more like everything he’s ever thought for his novels, he just adds to his home. Like he needs the visualization. He has a secret window and a chair with knives. It’s insane.”

“That actually sounds pretty cool. Your grandpa sounds like a pretty cool guy, you must admire him a lot.”

“I mean... yeah, but I’d never tell him that.”

“Why not?” You asked with a chuckle.

“It’s complicated,” he answered, before bringing his glass up to his lips. “Like, I love him, but....”

“No. I get it.” Of course, you did. Your mom was a complicated figure in your life, but you could never not love her.

“I’ve done a lot of shit.” He shrugged. “So, I think it’s mutual.”

“At least his house sounds interesting. Like a work of art. I’m kind of a sucker for art.”

“Do you paint? Draw? Doodle on an iPad.” The way he smiled up at you, you would have never guessed that he was the giant asshole everyone made him out to be. There was this softness there even if it was hiding under his arrogant exterior.

You chuckled. “I paint. Though I do partake in the doodling on iPads.”

“I’d love to see your work sometime,” he said. “Do you sell?”

“I haven’t,” you replied. “But, I’m open to it. I guess. I’d show you now, but I’m not allowed to have my phone on the floor.”

“Oh so I’m not worth risking being fired for, I get it,” he joked, shaking his head as if he was offended.

You laughed, tilting your head back. “I know right. I’m already risking it by even talking to you. Harrington is so strict.”

There was this squint on his face as he kind of looked you up and down. It felt like he was studying you and it made you feel like you were under a microscope. “You’ve got a cute laugh you know that?”

No. Don’t give in. You had to tell yourself. You didn’t want to get involved with anyone you’d have to workaround. Besides, it was Ransom Drysdale. You’d just seen him with a woman yesterday. “Thank you,” you brushed him off. “Can I get you another drink?”

He sighed, checking the time on his phone. “As much as I’d love to stay and chat. I have to get going. Maybe I’ll stop by soon so we can talk again. Maybe show me some of your work?”

“Sure.”

He’d left you a forty dollar tip. You were not expecting that.

You’d left work that night feeling pretty good. Not that you were expecting him to fall in love with you or anything. Or for anything to happen at all. It was just a nice encounter with the guy everyone was obsessed with here. Besides you promised yourself you’d never, ever fall into the same trap as Mom had.

It’s not that you didn’t date. You were picky, though. The few relationships you’d had were okay, but you didn’t want to get hurt so you never wanted to get in too deeply.

Then the next day you had come to work, he’d walked in with Marissa on his arm. That stopped any and all thoughts you may have had. It was during that lull between when they'd stopped serving breakfast and brought out the lunch menus. You weren’t surprised that a man like Hugh Ransom Drysdale would be dating a woman like Marissa Clermont. She was exactly the type of woman men like him go for. You know a model IT girl type of deal.

It wasn’t just because he’d been dating Marissa. Of course not. It was because the day before you he’d just come in with Amber Taylor. The daughter of a retired Boston Celtics player. Also, a beautiful woman (also a model you think) who clearly didn’t know her boyfriend was two-timing her.

“Fascinating isn’t it?” Your co-worker, Britt, interrupted your thoughts as she’d come back from taking their drink order. Her arms were crossed as she tried to not make it too obvious that was she looking over at them. “He comes in here with different women and none of them have any idea.”

You frowned as you saw him whispering in her ear, making her giggle, probably telling her the same thing he told Amber just yesterday. “Yeah, I see that,” you replied. “How does he get away with it?”

“Ladies! Back to work!” Harrington, your manager, barked towards the both of you which made the both of you scurry off before she even had the chance to answer. You didn’t even get to talk to her because her shift was over soon then you were off the next day. You weren’t even sure why you cared so much.

When you got back to work it was during that lull time. Ransom was there of course with a different woman. Chloe Daniels. A blonde that had been the sole heir to her husband’s entire fortune no matter how much his ex wife or adult children tried to fight it. You were happy you got to witness the drama for that.

“He messes around with girls that don’t talk to each other,” Britt was finally able to explain. “So, they never find out. At least, that’s what the story around here is.”

“Wow he has a whole system worked out...” you crinkle your nose. Ugh what a fucking pig.  Just like your mother and those douchebags she dated.

“I mean, I kind of get it,” Britt said. “He’s hot. I might put up with being treated like trash for that much. Hell, I’ve put up being treated like trash for much less.”

You held in the laugh you wanted to let out as you could see Harrington lurking around, waiting to say something to the two of you. He never missed his chance to give out orders.

For as long as the couple sat through you couldn’t stop staring. Britt was right. It was fascinating.

[the-amazing-spider-bi]

🎄🌟the mandatory Christmas fic 🌟🎄 background stony, iron dad I 4k 🎄 ao3

Steve sighs. "Tony, last time we celebrated Christmas together, it was 2015, Natasha was still bleeding from her last mission and we ordered a literal mountain of Chinese takeout to eat in front of the TV. And you said Christmas was a capitalistic, un-rock’n’roll, garbage holiday you had no intention to partake in and Natasha said sure, Mr. Trump and you said how dare you insult me like this, I’m kicking you out right now. Then you threw spring rolls at her.”

Tony shrugs. "Well, things change, Captain, roll in with the punches."

Read on ao3 in its entirety, the next part, or part 1/4 under the cut!

“Attention, Avengers! And Loki. I have a statement to make,” Tony bellows, entirely clad in his Iron Man costume except for his face.

Steve looks up at him lazily from where he is sitting on an armrest trying to make himself as small as possible for Sam to sit, which is ridiculous when he is made of about six feet of abs and triceps and deltoids and other weird muscles.

In the other armchair, Bruce and Thor as ostensibly Not Cuddling, because they are, of course, Not Dating, Valkyrie, sitting by their side with a suspicious-smelling Thermos, stares in adoration at Natasha, who is splayed on the couch sharpening a knife in a vaguely threatening way for no real reason.

At her side, feet kicked up on her thighs, Clint is reading a trashy gossip magazine and obviously doesn’t have his hearing aids on. In splashy red letters, the journalist, who probably went to Harvard for this, speculates about DAD BOD OR HOT MESS: IRON MAN’S LOSE BOOZE DAY TAKING THEIR TOLLS? on top of a blurry picture of Tony getting out of the suit. When Rhodey came into the room and saw it, he cracked up laughing and pulled out his phone to take a picture to send Pepper, Carol, his mother and the entirety of his contacts.

On the other side of Clint, Pietro is talking in hushed tones to Wanda, a conversation filled with foreign words and dramatic hand gestures. Vision is doing this weird thing where he closes his eyes and floats and might be taking a nap or just reviewing a very interesting book on Goodreads.com. Loki is stuck by their side looking bored and playing with a StarkPhone with disinterest because, as Thor said, he needed to socialize with people his age.

(“Wait, isn’t he like a hundred years old?” Steve had asked.

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous,” Thor had said.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“He’s a thousand and fifty-three years old. What do you think he is, a toddler? Pffft.”

Steve had started to frown and open his mouth in incomprehension,  but behind Thor’s shoulder, Bruce had very silently yet very energetically shook his head and mouthed no. The subject had not been addressed again. From what Steve understood, he was sort of the Asgardian equivalent of a high schooler who ran around town using the jewelry he stole from his mother to buy a fake ID to get into the local gay bar. Except their version involved a lot more stabbing.)

None of them takes notice of Tony’s announcement, except T’Challa, standing up rigidly on the giant TV screen.

“Yes, this is in fact what we expected when you summoned an official Avengers meeting,” T’Challa says.

“At four in the fucking morning,” Bucky Barnes mutters, face flickering on the screen by his side.

“What, is it four in the morning in Wakanda? Oh no, silly me, I must have forgotten,” Tony says. Barnes narrows his eyes at him. “Anyway, if I could have everyone’s attention? Romanoff, please tell Clint I literally made these hearing aids and he is being an ungrateful brat.”

Natasha sighs, puts down the knife, and pushes Clint off the couch.

He flails for a second. “Not cool, Tasha!” he yelps. She shrugs him off. He pouts and says, “Pietro, avenge me!”

Pietro looks at him directly in the eyes as he high fives Natasha.

“Anyway,” Tony says. “Guys, if you don’t mind, there is this little thing called an emergency going on.”

“There’s always an emergency going on,” Clint mutters, having just gotten his hearing aids back.

“Yes, alright, the world sucks, we live on a garbage planet ready to explode any moment and our president is an orange toupeed buffoon, we know that, Clint but this is more important. In fact, I would even go as far as saying this is the most important emergency any of us has ever faced.”

Thor stops staring at Bruce with moony eyes and asks, “Is it Thanos? Did the contingency plan we put in place to welcome him fail us?”

“What? No!” Tony says.

“Do we have another hidden sibling Father forgot to tell us about?” Loki inquires, sounding bored.

“Loki’s evil again?” Clint contributes, earning himself nasty glances from both Odinsson brothers.

“Hydra?” Bucky asks.

“Red Skrull somehow got out of this weird purple planet thing?” Steve asks.

“A white American did something stupid that will get tons of people killed?” T’Challa sighs.

“I second that one, actually,” Wanda says.

“It is indeed,” Vision says, “statistically much likelier that a white American male is once again the cause of our troubles.”

“You’re all wrong and also morons,” Tony says. “Well, actually, I guess it is all about a white American. God, we really are the worst, aren’t we? I didn’t ask for your confirmation,” he adds when Rhodey, Natasha, the Maximoffs, T’Challa, Sam and Steve start nodding. “No, this is much more important than all of that garbage.”

He pauses again to let a dramatic silence stand. Of course, considering he is standing on a box in the middle of their living room, the effect is significantly ruined.

“What,” Valkyrie cuts.

“I have just been informed,” Tony says, “that Christmas is in four days, and we need to organize a party from scratch. Pepper, who is the light of my life and by far the stronger Avenger out of any of us, just so you know, is on holidays, so I can’t call her. Well, actually, I tried to call her, but she just laughed for five minutes and then hung up on me. Being on a cruise has made her very rude if you ask me.”

All of the Avengers stare at him for the longest of time before they all collectively get up and start leaving. Tony’s protests are ignored. Strange is disconnected from the conference call as he tells Stark to never call him ever again. T’Challa, who is a scholar and a gentleman, waits until Bucky is done cursing the Stark generation in Russian, Romanian, German, and about twenty other languages to follow suit.

“I dunno about these other guys but I’m in,” Peter Quill says.

“I literally do not know who you are,” Tony says. “How did you even get that number?”

“See you in four days!”

“No no no I didn’t mean- he hung up on me too, didn’t he. That’s just great.”