#but i am just a girl trying trying to complete her coursework during these trying times | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

copajay · 10 months ago

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knight in shining armor

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

masterlist

can you tell I’m in love with writing period pieces (even if they’re not that historically accurate…) btw, italics is y/n's thoughts and bold is euneok's thoughts.

summary: y/n’s a college student majoring in history on a school trip to a historical castle in england. somehow she and her academic rival, eunseok, get stuck in a secret chamber in the castle which ends up transporting them to the 1300s! will the pair overcome their differences and manage to get back to the 21st century? (not proofread)

date: 04/09/24

scenario themes: time travel, enemies to lovers, period piece

idol: song eunseok or eunseok of riize

concept: fluff, fantasy

warnings: swearing

word count: 12k (i got a bit carried away)

song eunseok is an exchange student from korea who makes your college life a living hell.

you love studying history, especially the entirety of medieval england. you’re even writing your senior thesis on english nobility during the medieval period.

unfortunately for you, eunseok excels at history as well.

since you have such a huge passion for history, you’ve always naturally excelled at it. you tend to be a bit of a try-hard when it comes to school and that bit increases tenfold when it’s anything history-related.

it’s immature to compete so openly with a peer at this age. to many, ‘rivals’ are a high school concept. and yet, something about the way eunseok knows every detail about chinese foot-binding practices and confidently leads discussions about the cold war makes your eye twitch.

history is your thing.

you know you sound crazy, but it’s not like it was completely one-sided. eunseok hates not being the smartest in the room.

he worked his ass off to learn english, leave korea, and get a scholarship at your university. there’s no way he was going to settle for mediocrity.

and of course he noticed how intensely you glared at him when he answered a question you were dying to answer.

just like you noticed how annoyed he was when you would mention getting a slightly higher grade than him on a paper.

you were both in the same major which meant you had a lot of overlapping courses, and unfortunately for your professors and classmates, you almost always ended up in the same class.

for the most part you tried to ignore eunseok outside of class. sure he was the bane of your existence for the hour and a half lecture on roman architecture, but outside that he was none of your concern.

eunseok on the other hand found himself thinking of you quite often. it’s not like he always disliked you. in fact, he found your passion for history admirable, and he thought your dedication to your coursework was cute.

but when you began treating him coldly and sending him glares from across the room, he was quick to react in the same way.

eunseok isn’t stupid, he knows why you dislike him, and that if he was less of an overachiever, you’d maybe warm up to him. but he’s not going to jeopardize his grades and hard work to please some girl… no matter how much he’d like to get to know said girl.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive, but there isn’t a soul on this earth that could waterboard that information out of you.

to put it simply, you can’t stand each other.

but right now that doesn’t matter. nothing matters. because you’re going on a trip set up by the history department to riize castle in england.

it might just be another old site to everyone else, but it's your absolute favorite castle. you know the entire history of the building, you've studied the floor plans an embarrassing amount of times, and have spent most of your childhood yearning to go there, and that dream is finally coming true.

and not even eunseok could ruin it for you... or so you thought.

your flight was set for 3 am, and while the other students were groggily arriving at the airport one by one, annoyed at both the timing and the expenses they'd have to cover for the trip, you were elated.

that is until you received your boarding passes and found out you would be spending the entirety of the 10-hour flight from california to england seated next to the one person you abhor.

maybe he's less insufferable outside of class, you thought to yourself.

after your group boarded you sat down next to him and the two of you continued to sit in awkward silence until takeoff. but once the plane began moving, you noticed eunseok starting to shuffle around and breathe heavier.

"are you alright?" you asked, glancing at his trembling hands gripping onto the armrest. "yes." he responded immediately.

"don't you go back to korea every school break, how are you scared of flying-" before you could finish your sentence, eunseok grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly.

you were about to interject but you realized the plane was beginning to ascend so he must've been frightened.

his hand was warm and soft, despite his trembling, the foreign feeling of his hand on yours was comfortable.

as soon as the plane was fully in the air, he let go of your hand as if nothing happened and picked out a book from his carry-on.

"um.. are you okay?" you questioned, confused at his sudden behavior change. "i get a bit nervous during takeoff and landings, i'm usually fine during the rest of the flight so you don't have to worry about me holding your hand for the next ten hours." he deadpanned.

"a bit? you were shaking like a leaf." you chortled. he rolled his eyes in response, going back to his book.

it was then that you realized you stupidly hadn't brought any entertainment with you for the trip, and your flight didn't have wi-fi either.

you decided the only thing you could do to remain sane in this situation is fall asleep, it was 3 in the morning after all.

leaning your head as far back as the stiff seats would allow, you closed your eyes and drifted off.

approximately five hours later, you woke up with a crick in your neck and an odd numbness on the side of your mouth. opening your eyes slowly, you were greeted with the site of eunseok's shirt directly beneath you with a large wet spot.

holy shit.

you fell asleep on eunseok's shoulder and drooled all over his shirt. if he didn't say anything this far he's probably going to the next 5 hours you're on this flight.

you haven't moved your head yet, scared that if you indicate you're awake, he's going to hold this against you until the end of time.

panicking, you accidentally jolted your stiff neck up, causing your chin to collide directly with eunseok's.

fuck. well there goes my cover.

"ow!" you both exclaimed in unison. "was drooling over me not enough? you had to break my jaw too?" he grumbled, rubbing his chin.

"you could've moved my head!" you defended, flustered. straightening yourself up, you wiped the side of your mouth awkwardly.

instead of responding, he grabbed a napkin from his bag and handed it to you.

"thank you." you said, taken aback.

why is he being so nice?

"i'm... sorry for ruining your shirt," you mumbled. "it's no big deal." he shrugged.

was this the same eunseok that commented "worst thing I've ever read." on your peer-graded essay?

maybe you could mend things with him during this trip. after all, he did seem pretty excited when the announcement was made.

"so... have you ever been to england before?" you began, initiating small-talk.

"can we just sit in silence?" he replied coldly.

nevermind, he's still just as much of an asshole as ever.

shit. why did I say that? eunseok thought to himself.

the truth is, you made him nervous. whether it was your icy stare or your intimidatingly vast knowledge on history, he could never let his guard down around you.

the rest of the flight was spent with the two of you refusing to so much as face each other until landing.

as the plane was about to descend, you noticed eunseok starting to take deep breaths. part of you wanted to extend a hand, but the other part of you wanted to throw him off the plane.

deciding to be the bigger person, you asked "are you alright?"

"I'm not a child." he croaked.

"I didn't say you were." you sassed.

"then stop talking to me like I am one." he began, growing more irritated.

the two of you began to go back and forth, and before you knew it you had landed. eunseok managed to forgot all about his fear because of how unbelievably petty the two of you were.

"will you guys shut up!?" a passenger behind you shouted, causing the both of you to stop arguing.

annoyed, you got out of your seat as quickly as you could and made a beeline for the baggage claim, waiting for your bags.

how do you keep getting forced into these kinds of situations with him? were you some kind of monster in your past life? was he your karma?

once you and the rest of your group received your luggage, you headed to the hotel. due to the time zone difference, it was already 9 pm in london so your group supervisors told everyone to get some sleep so you could head to the castle in the morning.

whether it was because of the nap you took on the plane, or simply how excited you were, you couldn't sleep at all.

staring at the clock reading 1 a.m. in your hotel room, you decided to try catching a glimpse of the castle before everyone else woke up at 7. it wasn't your brightest idea, but it's not like you had anything else to do.

you managed to get past your sleeping roommates, throwing on a jacket and slipping out the door. coincidentally, eunseok couldn't sleep either, and he decided to go for a walk around the hotel at the same moment you decided to leave.

spotting your figure leaving the hotel and heading off towards the street, he couldn't help but follow you.

was this extremely stalker-ish? yes. but what if she got hurt or kidnapped? we're in a different country after all. not like I care if she gets hurt or kidnapped... but if she did it would ruin our trip! so I have no choice but to follow her eunseok reasoned.

it didn't take long for him to figure out where you were going. the hotel is extremely close to the castle, after all. once you reached, you stared at the castle from afar, marveling at it.

you waited for this moment your whole life, and it was even more beautiful in person. there's no way you could turn back now. you have to see it closer.

carefully maneuvering past the gates, you managed to miraculously sneak in, and there didn't seem to be any security guards present.

what the hell is she doing? this is illegal!

what the hell am I doing? this is illegal!

you thought about turning back, but your curiosity was eating you up inside. you had to go see what the interior of the castle looked like.

thanks to your insanely intensive study of the building, you managed to find a secret opening that not many people knew of and you quickly slipped inside, hoping nobody would notice.

however, someone--that someone being eunseok--definitely did notice. and he mentally cursed himself for following you this far, wondering why he couldn't bring himself to turn back.

slipping through the opening, he entered a completely dark hallway, unsure of where you were.

you had dreamed of walking these corridors your whole life, and even without any light you were able to manuever around the halls.

unfortunately, eunseok couldn't say the same, and when he started walking, it didn't take long for him to bump into a stand of knight armor.

the loud crashing was enough to trigger an alarm system and turn on emergency lights, which exposed both eunseok and you to one another.

"what the hell are you doing here?" you shrieked "what the hell are YOU doing here?" he retorted.

you knew it wasn't long until authorities would arrive, so you grabbed eunseok and began running further into the castle.

"what are you doing? we need to leave!" he yelled.

"if we leave, they'll just catch us on our way out. we need to hide somewhere they won't look."

dragging him by the arm, you rushed into the old servant chambers, diving into the closet. well... what you thought was the closet.

what it actually was was a secret set of stairs that the two of you fell down, leading to a small room that you've never seen before.

impossible. i've watched every virtual tour, studied every reconstruction plan, read every primary source document... and i've never heard of this room.

"great. now we're stuck in a dark, cramped, dusty room in the middle of a castle that's going to be searched any second now and it's all your fault-" eunseok ranted, stopping midway when he saw you staring bewildered at the room.

"what's wrong with you?" he poked your shoulder.

"i... didn't know this room existed." you whispered.

"it's an old castle, I'm sure there's plenty of secret rooms everywhere... you think this is where the servants used to smash?"

"shhh" you urged him, hearing distant footsteps.

"what are we gonna do?" he sighed.

"let's just lay low until they leave. I doubt they'll look for us here. and don't touch ANYTHING. this room might be undiscovered and contain hundreds of year's worth of preserved artifacts-"

you were interrupted by eunseok toppling over a candle.

"EUNSEOK!" you whisper-shouted. "I'm trying to get some light in here." he defended.

fishing in his pocket, he pulled out a lighter before picking the candle off the floor and lighting it. once the room was illuminated, you could see your surroundings much better.

the room was stacked with cabinets and shelves containing miscellaneous items, it must've been used for storage. it seemed to have some personal items that belonged to servants.

you heard the footsteps start to get closer, and a voice appeared right outside the closet doors. looking to eunseok, you began panicking.

"blow the candle out! now!" you whispered.

eunseok blew out the candle and right as he did, the door creaked open.

shit.

"I know my rights!" eunseok yelled at the foreign figure coming closer.

"what are you talking about?" a woman's voice echoed throughout the room.

a middle-aged woman appeared with a candle in hand, dressed in a long cloth dress, similar to the ones maids would wear centuries ago.

"are you some kind of role-play tour guide? I didn't even know they did those tours this late into the night." he asked, confused.

"what? why is he speaking like that? and why are you two alone in here? and what happened to your clothes?" the woman interrogated.

the both of you had messed up your clothes running through the castle and falling down the stairs. your shirt was ripped up and dusty and his jacket was covered in cobwebs.

"oh, I see. the two of you are following eleanor and harold's example and fooling around in here! how many times must I tell you kids not to fornicate in the storage closet! go back upstairs and fulfill your duties." she reprimanded the two of you.

"told you they fucked in here." eunseok whispered to you.

you shoved him in the arm before responding "ma'am I appreciate your dedication to your job, but can you just tell us if you're going to turn us into the cops or not?"

"what are the... cops?" she exaggerated. you fought the urge to roll your eyes. you might be obsessed with history, but at least you can accept the fact that you live in the present.

"let's just leave." you turned to eunseok. "and get arrested? absolutely not." he crossed his arms.

"who is getting arrested?" the woman gasped. "you know damn well who, lady." he scoffed.

"lady?! I'm simply a chambermaid! have you hit your head?" she exclaimed.

"you know what, you're right. I'd rather get arrested than deal with this crap any longer." he sighed as the two of you began making your way up the stairs.

when you reached the top, you noticed the decor had changed drastically and the windows were letting in sunlight. wasn't it just 1 in the morning?

men and women dressed in modest, cloth clothing were running in and out of the halls and rooms.

"y/n... what's going on?" eunseok tugged at your dirty shirt. "it must be some kind of role-play experience? I'm not sure... how long were we in there?"

"you two must change out of your soiled garments!" the elder woman said, handing you a long dress and eunseok a matching set.

"wait! what's your name, and what's going on?" you sputtered, just as the woman was about to walk away.

"now I'm sure you've hit your heads. I'm agatha, head chambermaid and in one week from now is the duel of knights. we are hosting for the first spell in a decade and tis in a week. now get up and get to work!" agatha demanded.

dumbfounded, you and eunseok simply stared at the clothes she handed you. "let's just go along with it. maybe we can pretend we're a part of whatever this is and avoid getting in trouble." you urged.

"what about the rest? won't they notice we're gone?" he worried. "let's just focus on getting out of here."

he nodded in response and the two of you rushed to find a place to change into your clothes. once you were changed, you walked out and led eunseok back to the secret entrance.

to your surprise, the parking lot that was once set up in front of the castle had been replaced with a moat. a large moat at that. with a ginormous drawbridge leading to a dirt path. the city looked different as well, with the cars being replaced with horse carriages and once large, gray buildings now appearing much smaller and made of stone and wood.

"is there some city-wide renaissance fair happening? are we getting pranked? where's the cameras?" eunseok whipped his head around, waiting to see john quinones pop up at any second.

"is this a dream? did i go unconscious during the fall down the stairs? quick, y/n! pinch me."

you did so eagerly.

"ow! what the hell? I didn't mean literally." he complained, rubbing his arm.

"will you shut up? i need to find out what's going on." you huffed. pulling out your phone, you saw that there was no signal or wi-fi network available nearby. "that's weird, I swore the website said the castle had guest wi-fi." you muttered.

"i have an international data plan, let me try," eunseok whipped out his phone, only to find there was no signal on his device either.

"do you think... maybe, we're actually back in the medieval times?" you shuddered.

eunseok never laughed louder in his life.

"yes, y/n. we time traveled like we're in back to the future! should I call you marty? or do you want to be the old scientist?" he cackled.

"his name is doc brown. and I'm being serious," you began, "how else would all these buildings change overnight, and why else would all these people be wearing clothes from a different time period. look around: there's not a phone, car, or even pavement road in sight. there's no way we were in the castle long enough for them to make all those changes either."

"let's just talk to an actual sane person here and I'm sure they'll explain everything." he assured.

just then, a young woman wearing a silk blue gown walked past, surrounded by two men in armor.

"excuse me, miss. sorry to interrupt your little role-play party but my friend and i were wondering if we could use your phone to make a quick call." eunseok asked.

one of the men rushed forward, "halt! how dare thee speak so freely to her highness, the crown princess."

eunseok rolled his eyes, "i'm not hitting on your chick, dude, i just want to use a phone."

the armor-clad man suddenly put his sword up to eunseok's neck. "what the hell?" eunseok exclaimed.

"release him! who are you sir and why doth thee use such... peculiar language?" the princess implored.

"you people are psychos. no way you're taking this shit so seriously." eunseok grumbled, rubbing his neck after the guard let him go.

"answer her highness!" the other guard insisted.

"we are travelers, here to observe the duel of knights! I must apologize for my companion, he is delirious from traveling all day." you interjected, grabbing eunseok and beginning to walk away.

"wait! your companion is… quite handsome. and his odd way of speaking is rather charming. i wish for him to compete for my hand during the duel!" the princess chirped.

"yeah right, you're crazy if you think I'm gonna-" eunseok was interrupted by your hand slapping over his mouth.

"whatever you wish, your highness." you responded, bowing curtly.

"wondrous! I would also like to invite thee to stay at my manor. surely a handsome man like you is a person of importance." she batted her lashes at him.

"no thanks weirdo-"

"we would love to! we thank you kindly for the offer your highness!" you interrupted eunseok again.

"oh I must have misspoke. I did not invite your mistress, only you." she spoke, shooting daggers at you.

"mistress?!" you gasped which made eunseok send you a shit-eating grin.

"actually, I would prefer my mistress stays with me, if that's alright 'your highness'" eunseok mocked.

the princess rolled her eyes and agreed reluctantly. once the princess and her guards were out of sight, you turned to eunseok. "see how those men didn't hesitate to hurt you? we're clearly in a different place!"

"yeah, a place where people have lost their minds." he scoffed.

"and her dress! it was real silk and embroidered with gold! I doubt a cosplayer has enough money to pull that off, especially in this economy." you tried convincing him.

"fine. lets say we really time-traveled to the 14th century and the princess wants me to join a little duel for her hand. does that mean...

... that i'm hot by both modern and medieval standards?"

you may not like eunseok, but he is quite attractive. it's no wonder his looks attracted the affections of a princess.

"eunseok! will you take this seriously? she wants you to participate in the duel of knights for her, do you understand how dangerous that is?" you practically screamed at him.

"yeah yeah the duel of knights is a fight to the death between the most skilled swordsmen of a kingdom for the right to court noblewomen and the princess. i know it may be hard for you to believe but i passed our medieval history class y/n." he quipped.

"and you realize you will be fighting those men to the death, right?" you asked.

"sure, i'll fight a bunch of history nerds in party city costumes." he chuckled.

you grabbed him by the arm and began pulling him in the direction of the city center… or what used to be the city center and now looked like a town square.

"we really need to talk- about boundaries because you-hey! can't keep dragging me around like a ragdoll-" he struggled as you continued tugging him into the busy streets.

"i'll stop when you quit being so stubborn. i'm gonna show you just how real this is." you stormed.

by the time you reached the city you were greeted with a sign that read 'SM's southern district' in big letters and below it in a smaller font was inscribed 'taverns, traders, and shops'.

perfect.

the two of you went inside a tailor's shop since you deduced that if you were going to pretend to be people important to stay at the castle, you should dress the part.

as soon as you stepped inside, the tailor called out "good morrow strangers, thou must be travelers from far hence."

"why yes, and we were-" you started before the tailor cut you off, "is there anything I may help you with, good sir?" he ignored you for eunseok.

you forgot that as fun as the medieval period was to learn about, it was hell to live through as a woman.

trying to bite your tongue, you waited for eunseok to respond.

"yeah, can we get some fancy clothes?" he asked nonchalantly.

you sent him a glare as the shopkeeper stared at him puzzled, "I'm afraid I do not understand your way of speaking."

"what he means to ask is if we may purchase some refined garments?" you asked, clearing your throat, only for the tailor to continue to ignore you.

sighing, eunseok repeated, "may we purchase some refined garments?" the tailor's head snapped up and he grinned, "of course, good sir! for the lady as well?"

"yes." you stated through gritted teeth. no response. "yes." eunseok repeated once again, to which the tailor nodded.

as the tailor went off to find some clothing for the two of you, you turned to eunseok, "I thought you were a history buff, how do you not know how to speak to these people?" you interrogated.

"first of all, i specialize in east asian history. second, I didn't think I'd ever actually have to rely on my shakespeare lessons from high school."

the tailor came back rather quickly with suits for eunseok and a few uncomfortable-looking but beautiful dresses for you. at least they didn't wear many corsets in medieval england.

"I shall fit them to the both of your measurements and you will be able to pick them up in a few days time. services included, the charge will be 30 pounds, good sir." the man said, awaiting eagerly for eunseok to pay.

"right... one second, good sir?" eunseok hesitated awkwardly, turning to you "you don't have any money, do you?"

"my wallet should be in my pocket... shit I left it when we changed our clothes in the castle. ask him if we can pay him when we come back to grab our clothes." you urged eunseok.

"how the hell do I say that?" he panicked. "just try your best!" you whisper-shouted.

turning back to the tailor, eunseok sputtered out "may we pay... in a few day's time... perchance?"

the shopkeeper looked confused before laughing, "doth thee wish to pay at which hour you come to pick up the garments?"

eunseok nodded vigorously which was enough to communicate the message across to the tailor.

once you left the shop, eunseok breathed a sigh of relief "okay, I believe you. we time-traveled, nothing makes sense, and I'll do anything to get back to the 2020s."

"let's head back to castle, grab my wallet, and we'll figure out what to do from there. we already have a place to stay anyway." you declared.

"if you weren't... yourself, I'd find it hot how calm and collected you are about this," he admitted. you shot him an annoyed look.

"sorry I don't know how to regulate my emotions... or my thoughts... or words. we traveled back in time. we're marty and the doctor guy." eunseok began rambling.

"it's doc brown. and calm down." you grasped his shoulders. "we're going to get out of here, because i need electric plumbing and I refuse to die of syphilis. but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy our time here. you and I both love history right? well now we get to experience it ourselves!" you exclaimed.

there's that look in her eye, the one she always gets when she's talking about history. I could stare at her forever... what the hell am I thinking? it's been a long day and I should get some rest.

you noticed eunseok spacing out while looking at you so you shook his shoulders a bit which jolted him awake, "so what do you say?"

"fine. let's experience your nerdy little medieval fantasy. but, we find out how to get out of here as soon as possible in the meantime." he agreed.

as you guys made your way back to castle, you were stopped by guards in front of the moat. "who art thee and what business doth thy have at riize castle?" a guard barked.

"we were personally invited by her majesty the princess to stay at the castle until the duel of knights." you reported. you saw the guard contemplating a bit before giving the other guards the signal to let you in.

breathing a sigh of relief, you headed towards the castle doors. after a few steps you realized eunseok hadn't moved from his spot.

"what are you doing? let's go back inside!" you scolded him. he looked completely pale and visibly shaken as he started towards you, "y/n. if we're really in medieval times... does that mean I have to fight during the duel of knights?" he fretted.

"i can't die yet. i haven't gotten cross-faded yet! do they even have weed here? I told myself once I leave korea I'd try it but what if I don't even get to experience that-" he began rambling once again.

you grabbed onto his hand, similar to how you did in the plane before trying to calm him down, "you won't die, because you won't fight anybody. we'll find a way to get back to our time before then, it's in a week so we have plenty of time. and you can always just try getting out of it by asking the princess!" you assured.

"you're right!" he exclaimed, squeezing your hand and pulling you into a hug. by the time you processed what was happening, you felt butterflies in your stomach.

that can't be right. butterflies... over eunseok? maybe I'm just touch-starved.

he pulled away rather quickly though, awkwardly trying to move past you to rush into the castle gates as if it would somehow undo his action.

fuck. did I make things awkward? did I kind of like the hug? wait-why do I care? we're just classmates who time-traveled together, nothing more and nothing less.

you followed after him until you reach the room you stumbled out of a few hours prior. digging through the pile of your old clothes, you were able to find your wallet.

fortunately, you exchanged some of your dollars for pounds at the airport. unfortunately, modern-day pounds look nothing like the ones they used in the 14th century.

"I don't think he'll even take these." you sighed, waving around the colorful bills with queen elizabeth's face stamped on them.

"we'll just say it's currency from... wherever we're from." he shrugged.

"and where's that?"

"uhhhh... america?"

"europeans haven't even heard of america yet." you rolled your eyes.

"which is why it'll work perfectly, they'll think it's some secluded, far away town." eunseok reasoned.

you don't know if it was eunseok's annoying presence or the lack of sleep you've had in the last 24 hours, but you felt a migraine coming on. massaging your temples, you decided you should take a nap before you try to find a way back to the future.

"let's get some rest, we can worry about everything else later." you yawned.

"where are we gonna sleep? the princess didn't even tell us which room we'd be staying in." he remarked.

"maybe we could ask agatha." you figured, walking towards the center hall.

"stop wandering off! we could get lost, this place is huge." eunseok argued.

"we won't. I know this place like the back of my hand." you assured.

"nerd." he commented, under his breath. for the sake of your sanity, you pretended you didn't hear anything.

with all the people rushing around the castle corridors it was nearly impossible to pinpoint agatha, and you ended up walking headfirst into the chest of a tall, handsome man wearing a padded shirt, usually worn by knights underneath their armor.

the man was slightly sweaty and holding a leather-wrapped sword in his hand, he must've been a knight coming back from training.

"art thou alright, madam?" the man asked. i am now.

eunseok let out a loud cough behind you, "she's fine. let's go, y/n."

"doth thou not recognize me? perhaps the two of you are not from here." the man reasoned.

"we're travelers, from... america." you hesitated.

"america? where is that?" the man questioned.

"tis a small town up north." you stated, trying to sound as sure of yourself as possible.

"makes sense." the man nodded "what business do you have in my castle. i've never seen you around, and I reckon I would remember a face as enchanting as yours."

am i getting hit on by a hot knight? maybe staying here isn't such a bad idea after all.

"your castle?" eunseok replied.

"yes. i am the crown prince, anton. now remind me again what you're doing in my castle?" anton asked.

"the crown princess invited us, my... brother here is to compete in the duel of knights." you quickly added.

"brother? I thought you were supposed to be my mistress-" eunseok started before you cut him off.

"do you know where the princess may be? she hasn't yet told us in which room we shall be staying." you asked the prince.

"ah, forgive my sister for she is very easily overexcited. I doubt she put much thought into housing you two as guests. I'd usually turn two strangers away, but you're an exception," he stared at you intently, "i'll arrange a room for the two of you shortly. in the meantime, would you care to join my family and I for dinner? it's the least we can do as hosts for you as you've traveled so far."

"we'd love to!" you exclaimed. "wondrous! I shall see you in two hours for dinner. the maids will help you to get ready." he smiled, kissing your hand before he walked away. you felt your cheeks heating up as you waved him goodbye.

"I thought you were tired. now you wanna have dinner with the royal family?" eunseok grumbled.

"eunseok, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. eating dinner in a castle with medieval royalty! how many people can say they've done that?" you beamed.

eunseok held back a smile as you gushed about the opportunity. why is she so cute today?

in a matter of minutes, a young woman approached the two of you, ushering you into a room.

"...here is the closet, and finally, the washroom. I shall give the two of you your privacy now." the woman bowed her head before exiting quickly.

"that was a quick tour." eunseok joked. "she must be busy preparing for the duel." you figured.

"ugh, don't remind me of the duel." he dramatically collapsed on the bed. "wait... is there only one bed?"

am I being lazy and using the one bed trope? guilty!

"I'm honestly too tired to care. scooch over." you shoved him to one side of the bed as you made yourself comfortable on the other. you wouldn't usually be so bold, but you were exhausted. after nearly getting arrested and getting stuck in the 14th century, you deserved a nap.

eunseok, on the other hand, was more wide awake than ever. he didn't want to look immature and get up the second you laid down, but he was even more nervous around you right now than usual.

looking over at your figure, he was shocked to see that you had already passed out. he couldn't hold back the small smile on his lips while watching you.

what the hell am I doing? I look like a creep. he thought, snapping himself out of his daze. deciding to wash up, he headed the the bathroom.

great. a large tub, a couple of buckets, and a hole in the ground. not a single source of running water in sight.

venturing out of the room, he tried calling one of the maids rushing past for some water but everyone seemed to be preoccupied.

annoyed, eunseok decided to try finding water himself. just because y/n's annoyingly obsessed with this castle and knows how to talk like these people, doesn't mean I'm completely lost without her.

after a few minutes of wandering around the castle, eunseok was completely lost.

unknowingly, he stumbled into the throne room while the princess was in the middle of receiving a lecture from her advisors.

"you mustn't invite complete strangers into the castle. do you understand how harmful that could be?" one of the advisors warned.

eunseok tried leaving as quietly as possible but it was to no avail as the princess spotted him almost immediately.

"you! traveler! what is your name?" she chirped, jumping up and heading towards him.

fuck.

"eunseok, your highness." he shared through gritted teeth.

"what an odd name! I suppose tis because thou are from a far away land. my brother told me you were from am-amiri? amera? what ever it's called." she rambled.

"i am princess giselle, and between you and i, you're my favorite contender for the duel of knights. oh how I hope you win and earn my hand." she gushed.

"i hope so too." he responded nervously.

"the prince told me the woman you were with is your sister, did you not refer to her as your mistress earlier... sir is your sister your mistress?" the princess gasped.

"umm, no! where I'm from we use the word mistress instead of sister. silly, isn't it?" he hesitated, holding his breath as he waited for giselle's reaction.

the princess burst into laughter, "how amusing! oh please don't die during the duel so you may make me laugh for the rest of my life." she cooed.

the hairs on the back of eunseok's neck stood up. even if he manages to survive the duel, he'll have to spend the rest of his life married to a loud-mouthed princess in a castle with no electricity.

I have to find a way to get out of this time.

"if you would excuse me, I should wake up my, er, sister for dinner!" eunseok mumbled, turning to walk away.

"nonsense! I'll have a servant do so. you may have the privilege of sitting with me until then." she assured.

"well, I was actually thinking of washing up before-"

"why would you need to wash up? you look perfectly clean." the princess interjected.

eunseok was anything but perfectly clean, but then again, that was by 21st century standards. in 14th century england, even royalty only bathed about once a month.

I can't believe it's gotten to this point, but I really wish y/n were here right now.

as princess giselle kept eunseok company, you were lightly shaken awake by a familiar figure: agatha. once you finally sat up, you heard her gasp.

"aren't you the servant from earlier? what are you doing in the guest bed?!" she shrilled.

"well... we're travelers invited by the princess. besides, it was you who assumed we were servants." you tried shifting the blame.

she put a hand above her heart, "goodness! that explains your odd clothing and speech. oh I apologize deeply. how can I make up for my terrible mistake?" she begged.

you felt bad seeing how apologetic agatha looked, but you remembered there was a favor you needed. "very well, then I demand full access to the storage room in the servant chambers." you declared.

agatha sent you a puzzling look, "what's so special about the storage room, my lady?"

well for starters, it's an opportunity for me to study a room never heard of by most historians. and a way for me to figure out how we got here, and hopefully, how to get home.

"i... liked it?" you said lamely. agatha simply nodded, "anything else?" she added.

"a piece of paper and a writing instrument, please."

"for your lord?"

right. most people, especially women, were illiterate during this time.

"um... yes!" you lied, not wanting to make yourself stand out anymore.

"I shall see to it." agatha dismissed herself.

as soon as she left the room, you collapsed back onto the bed. all you needed was some quality alone time-

the door burst open again, with a flock of servants pouring in. "we must prepare you for the dinner!"

for the next thirty minutes, you were stripped, clothed, had your hair done up in an elaborate hairstyle, and exposed to powders and cosmetics you were 99% sure were toxic. you almost didn't recognize yourself in the mirror, but you had to admit the dress was flattering and you might even copy the hairstyle when you get back to your time.

as annoying as it was, it was fascinating to experience everything you've read about in books up until now. the history nerd in you couldn't help but marvel at it all.

by the time you arrived at the dining room, you were greeted with the sight of eunseok sitting next to the princess, looking mildly irritated. you spotted an open seat next to the prince directly across eunseok and decided to sit there.

shooting the boy a small smile, you sat next to anton who immediately began talking to you.

eunseok took in your appearance, staring intensely at you.

she looks stupid... with her big hair, obnoxiously red lips, long gown, perfect smile-snap out of it!

"lord eunseok, why are you staring at your sister like that?" princess giselle asked loudly, catching your attention.

you turned your head quick enough to see eunseok staring at you with a look of... admiration? impossible.

he turned tomato red and cleared his throat, "I was... wondering what we'd be eating for dinner! I'm famished."

"once mother and father arrive, we may begin eating." prince anton assured. he turned to you, "tell me about your family, lady y/n. aside from your brother here, of course."

eunseok rolled his eyes. why's he so concerned with y/n? and why is this princess on my case?

after a few minutes of you and anton conversing and eunseok stealing glances of you while giselle talked his head off, the king and queen arrived.

you immediately got up and curtseyed to them, gesturing for eunseok to bow. "your majesty, tis my pleasure to dine with you." you resounded.

"my children have told me much about you. do tell me about this 'america'" the king mused.

the rest of the dinner consisted of you and eunseok making up ridiculous facts about america and your backgrounds. occasionally, you'd send each other knowing looks and have to stifle your laughs. it was the closest the two of you got to bonding this whole trip.

by the time the dinner came to a close, anton rose up slowly. "I wish to make an announcement." once he had everyone's attention, he continued, "I have completed my knight training this year, and I have father's word that I will be able to compete in the upcoming duel of knights."

"excuse me?" the queen cried out, "it is far too dangerous. and whose hand will you be competing for? your sister's?"

"of course not. I will be competing for lady y/n's hand."

"WHAT?" you and eunseok yelled in unison. "I understand this may come as a surprise to you, my sweet y/n, but I truly feel we have developed a connection."

we met two hours ago!!!

"NO!" you screamed, resulting in horrified looks on everyone else's face, "I mean... no, your highness. I could never expect you to put your life at risk for my hand, PLEASE reconsider." you begged.

"nonsense. the last ten knights left standing win the duel, and I am sure my son is capable of coming in tenth place at the very least." the king argued.

"charles, he is but a boy-" the queen began, angrily.

"he is twenty for christ's sake! I was even younger when I competed. there will no more discussion, anton will be competing for lady y/n's hand and lord eunseok will compete for giselle's." the king settled

fuck.

"what the hell are we going to do?" eunseok panicked once the two of you were back in your room. "if we don't leave before next week, I'm going to die fighting for a girl I don't even want and you're going to get married to that guy!"

"you care about whether or not I get married to the prince?" you teased. "what? no, I- shut up." he deflected.

"relax. I got us unlimited access to the storage closet. whatever brought us here is in there, I know it. we'll look through it tomorrow and find out how to go home." you determined.

"and if we don't?" he gulped. "then we'll figure something out." you resolved, holding onto his shoulders. "we'll be alright, we have eachother." you smiled.

you couldn't explain why you were being so nice to the man you swore you hated just yesterday, but something about the vulnerability of your situation made you desperate to hold onto the only ally you have.

eunseok's heart rate increased in response to your words and close proximity, he couldn't help but stare at your lips. "they overdid it with the lipstick." he commented, mindlessly.

"it's a mixture of berries. and I know." you giggled.

before you could say anything else, eunseok began leaning in. his lips were on yours in a matter of seconds, and it felt completely natural.

your friends always joked that the two of you were just covering up sexual tension with the whole rivalry thing, and you're embarrassed to admit you may have fantasized about kissing eunseok before, but you never in a million years thought it would actually happen.

the kiss was slow yet passionate, there was an unprecedented amount of emotion in it, you felt like you were drowning in it.

eunseok was on cloud nine, it was better than any other kiss he's ever had. his hands wandered to hold your waist tightly as yours flew to his hair.

you don't know how long the kiss has lasted so far, but you know that you never want it to end.

except it does. when the prince and princess walk in on the two of you.

as soon as you heard princess giselle scream, the two of you pulled away, but it was too late. they had seen enough.

"you people are sick! I should have known it when you said you call your sisters your mistresses!" the princess cried out.

before she could say another word, you and eunseok dragged the siblings inside and shut the door. "what the hell are we going to do now?" eunseok frantically whispered to you.

"we have to come clean." you said, which eunseok shook his head 'no' to almost immediately.

"anton, giselle, we lied to you." you confessed while eunseok stayed silent.

"I knew it! there is no america. are you thieves? or spies? who sent you?!" giselle accused.

"there is an america, and we did come from there. but we came from a different america than the one that exists today... we're from the future." you shared.

it didn't take long for both siblings to burst into laughter. "the future? do you take us for fools?" anton choked out.

"it's true! eunseok, show them your phone." you insisted. he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen, causing it to illuminate.

"sorcerers!" giselle screeched.

"it's not sorcery, it's technology! it's made from various metals and allows you to communicate with people across large distances." you explained.

"sounds like sorcery to me." anton commented.

"y/n, you've spent years studying this stupid castle, don't you know anything about the residents? there has to be some information you have on the royal family that could convince them." eunseok looked to you.

"well I wasn't able to study much on these two because they both died young..." you said quietly.

"WHAT?" giselle screamed. "how dare you even suggest that?" anton stood up angrily.

"the records I read said you passed away during the duel of knights when you were 20 and that giselle was unable to take over the throne afterwards because she disappeared one night and was presumed dead... but some say she fell in love with a commoner and eloped with him." you shared.

this caused giselle to gasp loudly, "you... i... i believe them."

"how?" anton interjected, "she just said I'll die and you'll elope with a commoner. you show interest in every nobleman you come across and get over them in a matter of days. there's no way you'd fall in love with a common man and elope."

"I've been pretending to be boy-obsessed so nobody finds out that i..." giselle hesitated "i'm in love with mark."

"the stable boy?" anton cried out. "he always mentions the possibility of eloping but I never took it seriously-" she began.

"you two can sort out whatever's going on with mark later, can we go back to y/n and I time-traveling?" eunseok interrupted.

"how did you even end up here?" anton asked.

"in our time, your castle is a historical monument. eunseok and I managed to sneak in, but we were about to get caught so we hid in a storage room. when we emerged, we were transported to your time." you explained.

it took the siblings a while to process your story, but they agreed to help the two of you find a way to get back to your time. once everything was settled, anton asked to speak to you privately--which eunseok did not like.

"I'm sorry for lying, anton, I was just trying to avoid getting in trouble." you apologized, breaking the awkward silence.

"I understand. I've been meaning to ask about you and eunseok. are the two of you...?" he began.

"I don't know what we are. this whole day has been confusing for the both of us." you answered honestly.

"right." he replied, sadly. "well, I wanted to ask you specifically about my death. does the future really say I die in the upcoming duel?"

"i'm sorry anton... i know how excited you are for it."

"excited? i'm dreading it." he chuckled dryly. "i've only ever shown interest in being a knight because of my father. he was a knight back in his day, that's how he courted my mother and became king."

"wait, so you don't want to compete in the duel?" you queried.

"absolutely not! I'm terrified. I've always wanted to be a writer, but my father told me I have no time for silly dreams like that. I'm the heir to the throne, after all."

I feel horrible, most of the documents i read mentioned anton as an eager knight-in-training, but I guess history books aren't always accurate.

you grabbed anton by the hand and began taking him back to where eunseok and giselle were.

"so you really don't think I'm handsome?" you overheard eunseok asking giselle. "you're okay-looking... but I just needed a cover-up for my late-night rendezvous with mark." she shrugged as eunseok's face fell.

"eunseok. giselle. we need to do something before we go back in time." you announced.

"and what's that?" eunseok responded.

"we're getting anton out of the duel of knights." you declared.

"but how? father is adamant on him competing." giselle protested, "and I doubt he'll believe your time-traveling story."

"we'll just have to figure out a way." you said stubbornly.

although eunseok and giselle seemed uneasy, anton sent you a grateful look which was enough.

the next few days were spent with you and eunseok exploring the storage room and you writing down as much as you could about the contents of the room as well as the royal family.

eunseok agreed to help giselle meet with mark in secret and you agreed to help anton with his writing. in return, the siblings helped you look through the castle library on anything related to time-travel.

to avoid the awkwardness of sleeping in the same bed with eunseok after the kiss, anton offered up his room and slept with him instead.

there was now four days left until the duel, and you still had no idea how to get back or take anton out of the competition. anton and eunseok seemed to get a lot closer though, either through sharing a room or the mutual dread of having to fight to the death in a few days time.

"y/n, can I speak with you. it won't take up much time." giselle asked you. "of course, what's up?" you responded.

"what's up?" she repeated, "what is the matter." you corrected yourself. you and eunseok let down your guard when it came to speaking in old english since the siblings already knew your secret anyway.

"you said in the future, I disappear. mark keeps asking to elope, especially with the duel of knights approaching as many men will be aiming for my hand." she worried, "I'm scared, y/n. I don't wish to leave but I don't wish to lose my beloved either. what do I do?"

you honestly had no idea. maybe it was a bad idea telling them their fates, but if i can try helping them avoid it, I should.

"I think you should try telling your parents. how bad could it be?" you said, stupidly.

"are you serious? they would murder him and i for even suggesting it. royals and commoners don't belong together, of course you wouldn't understand." she stormed.

"okay, okay I'm sorry. I really don't understand. I'm used to modern royalty, where the prince of england married an actress and left the royal family, then got to go on oprah." giselle shot you a confused look, "but if you never try, you'll never know."

"i suppose you're right. but I'm far too terrified of my parents." she sighed. before you could respond, eunseok called out to you, ushering you and giselle to join him and anton.

"we found a way to get out of the duel!" he shared excitedly.

"and how is that?" giselle asked, unconvinced.

"knights are covered head-to-toe in armor, right? we'll just pay two knights to replace us! anton said he's got the money covered."

"yes, I have the money covered, as they say in future america." anton added enthusiastically.

"and you've already found these knights?" you asked, "how do you know they won't tell the king?"

"we did, and anton made them swear because they are under an oath to serve him." eunseok shared proudly.

"don't you think that's a bit wrong, abusing your power? and what's gonna happen at the end of the duel when you have to take your helmets off?" you badgered.

"will you stop being such a baby, y/n? we'll tell them to keep their helmets on, and both you and giselle will be there anyways so you can cover for us." he argued.

"well i'm sorry that I want to make sure your little plan is foolproof so you don't, y'know, die." you fumed.

and just like that, the two of you began arguing again. giselle and anton gave each other a worried look before rushing out of the room, leaving the two of you yelling at each other.

"you're getting a bit too comfortable here, don't you think?" you scoffed.

"comfortable?! you think I want to spend the rest of my life in the 14th fucking century?" eunseok retorted.

"well you've barely been any help in looking for a way back. i've been the only one searching that stupid room for any traces of how we got here!"

"maybe because we've been searching that room for four days and haven't found anything. excuse me for trying to make sure I don't die before I find a way to travel back, if there even is a way."

you stepped closer to him, still seething "you piss me off to no end, song eunseok. you're the last person I wish I was trapped with in this stupid century!"

"do you really think you're my perfect idea of a travel buddy? my life is a mess, all thanks to you!" he snapped.

"I didn't ask you to follow me like a crazed stalker, did I? so why did you?"

eunseok finally went quiet. it seems like he didn't really know the answer either.

you were irritated, but you didn't want to keep arguing, so you decided to walk away before he started up again, "I'm going to town to pick up our clothes from the tailor."

up until now you've been wearing the servant clothes agatha brought you to bed and borrowing the royal sibling's clothes during the day. it'll be nice to finally have our own sets of clothing.

you tried to organize your thoughts but you were still thinking of eunseok. it's not like you haven't argued with him before, but they've never been so... personal.

it pained you to say but his words hurt you. you don't know when you started caring about what eunseok has to say but some time along the last four days you've been trapped here, you started to feel more strongly about him.

and you definitely can't forget about the kiss. you can't believe the two of you just acted completely normal after that. you were too scared to bring it up and so was eunseok.

he's so confusing. one day we're making out and the next we're screaming at each other... and it doesn't help that I can't read him at all.

by the time you were done reflecting on your entire relationship with eunseok, you reached the tailor's shop. walking in, you greeted one of the workers there before informing them of your prior visit.

as the worker brought out your clothes, he held his hand out waiting for the payment.

shit. I didn't bring any money. and it's not like the money I had would've done much anyway.

"I-um, I don't think I can give you the payment just yet," you stuttered, nervous.

"why not?" the worker asked, already putting the clothing back.

"because-"

"because i'll be paying." you heard a familiar voice ring from behind you. what is he doing here?

eunseok walked past you and handed over the old-timey pounds to the worker, taking the sets from him in the process.

once the transaction was finished he walked past you and out of the shop, completely ignoring you. confused, you caught up to him.

"did you seriously follow me again? what's your problem?!" you exploded on the street, catching the attention of nearby townsfolk.

"I saw that you left your wallet and didn't even bother asking for money from the prince or princess. you're welcome for saving you the embarrassment and a trip back-and-forth from the castle." he retorted, stopping to turn to you.

"I don't want to argue. not right now, and not in public." he sighed "good. because neither do i." you sassed, walking past him deeper into the district center.

he rolled his eyes and continued after you, "where are you going?"

"does it matter? or were you planning on stalking me again." you retaliated.

i should just leave her alone if she's going to be so difficult... but this place is sketchy and confusing, and it's getting dark.

"I don't think it's safe to walk around alone here, it's almost sunset." he called out.

"I'm a grown woman, I can handle myself." you refused.

"fine." eunseok said, turning to walk back to the castle.

you spent the next two hours making a mental map of the district, excited to write all about it later. you had to admit this was a much more fun way to learn about history than sitting around with a textbook and reading all day.

unfortunately for you, there weren't any clocks around, so it was easier to lose track of time. you figured it must be around 9 p.m. and decided to head back to the castle.

after about 15 minutes of wandering the streets, you realized you were lost.

fuck. I can't believe I'm about to prove eunseok right. whatever, he's probably living it up at the castle, especially since I'm not there.

on the contrary, eunseok was worried sick. "what if she was kidnapped, or fell down a well or something?" he ranted to anton.

"we shall find her, there's no need to worry." anton assured as they headed out the castle gate.

as the two of them began walking, eunseok couldn't help but overthink.

I shouldn't have let her walk away. and I can't believe the last conversation we had was an argument. what if something bad happened to her? how will I forgive myself?

eunseok doesn't know when or how he became so worried about you, but what he did know was his heart was pounding just thinking about you.

"what... relationship do you and y/n share?" anton inquired as they walked. "we're just school peers." eunseok answered coldly.

anton laughed in response, “peers do not thrust their tongues into each other's mouths."

eunseok's ears turned red upon hearing the younger boy's comment.

"they also wouldn't worry as much as you are right now." anton added.

"she's my ticket back to the 21st century, of course I'm on edge. I need her help finding the way home." eunseok shrugged.

"whatever you say." anton smiled.

"are you into her or something?" eunseok asked, trying to sound casual.

"pardon me?"

"do you wish to wed her?" eunseok sighed. I'm definitely not gonna miss these shakespearean conversations.

"well... she is strikingly beautiful... and strong, and intelligent, and-"

"okay I get it." eunseok cut him off, erupting another laugh in anton.

"but she seems to only have eyes for you. besides, I'm a bit more preoccupied with the duel as of now." anton commented carelessly.

she has eyes for me? eunseok thought to himself again and again until they reached a nearby tavern.

it was then that the pair spotted your figure arguing with a clearly drunken man. before he knew it, eunseok rushed to your side to defend you from the man until he heard your conversation.

"you've gone mad if you think euripides is anywhere close to sophocles!" you yelled.

"you're the mad one, sophocles couldn't have written medea but euripides could have easily written oedipus rex in his sleep!" the man yelled back.

of course she's arguing over history. what a nerd.

"pardon us sir." eunseok interjected, dragging you away by the arm.

"hey! I wasn't finished. and stop dragging me." you ripped your arm away. "now you know how I feel." eunseok scoffed.

"y/n! are you alright?" anton asked. "yes, I'm fine. and I was just about to make my way back to the castle." you asserted.

"point in the direction of the castle." eunseok challenged. you pointed in a random direction hoping it would be somewhat close.

"you were going to head north, further into the town when the castle is down south." eunseok smirked.

if he didn't look so good right now I'd smack that smirk right off his face.

the walk back to the castle was dead silent, with poor anton making the occasional comment trying to spur conversation, but you and eunseok weren't having it.

when you finally reached the castle, anton excused himself leaving you and eunseok alone.

sighing, eunseok broke the silence first, "I was worried about you."

you whipped your head up. did i hear that right?

"I don't hate you. I hope you know that." he went on.

"I don't hate you either." you added. for the first time in a long time you looked at him in the eye.

the tension was palpable, but before you could act on any of your emotions, eunseok turned away. "goodnight, y/n." he walked off.

ouch. I know I said I wanted him to leave me alone, but not like this.

time passed by until it was the morning of the duel. you and eunseok had been growing even more desperate to find a way back home, and giselle and anton were getting even more nervous about the duel approaching.

eunseok had remained distant since that night, and although you hadn't argued since then, you also haven't really spoken much.

you missed him, but you had more important things to focus on.

as the knights began suiting up, you and giselle headed to your seats at the top of the arena. the arena was full of thousands of people, ranging from commoners to nobles.

if everything went to plan, the knights pretending to be anton and eunseok would win the duel, one of them would pretend to be injured and the other would carry them off into the stables where they would switch places with the real eunseok and anton.

of course, nothing ever goes according to plan. 'eunseok' was slain within the first ten minutes.

despite you having no connection to them, it hurt you to see young men lose their lives for a tradition meant to please the rich and powerful. and it hurt even more knowing that this tradition would continue for a few more centuries.

however, not everyone else shared your sympathies, as the majority of the crowd cheered excitedly with each kill. that was... until 'anton' was slain an hour in.

the entire arena went silent and the king jumped out of his seat, "stop the tournament! stop it now!"

oh shit.

the king ran down to check on his 'son' only to reveal a complete stranger under the helmet. still teary-eyed, the king roared "what is the meaning of this?"

we're screwed. we're so so screwed.

just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, the real eunseok and anton entered the arena, assuming the silence meant it was over.

"son! what have you done? answer me, boy!" the king seethed. "i... i don't wish to be a knight." anton confessed, eliciting gasps from the crowd.

"what on earth has gotten into you? is it that boy next to you influencing you?"

"no! I never wanted it. you know I've always wanted to pursue writing-"

"nonsense. you are to be a king. and a king is to be able to fight for his people. will words on paper solve wars? no. only a sword will protect your throne."

dejected, anton nodded before eunseok interrupted, "weren't you just crying over your son's death?"

another round of gasps travelled through the arena. "how dare you speak to me that way? I should have your head cut off!"

"all I'm saying is, if anton listened to you and fought, he'd be dead right now. is forcing him into combat worth losing your son?" eunseok reasoned.

the king faltered for a moment before recovering, "he is not enough of a man to look me in the eye and you want me to let him pursue his childish fantasies?"

in that moment, anton snapped, raising his head, "if I am to be heir to the throne than you will treat me as such. my whole life I've done what you wanted me to do, and look how that would have ended," he paused, pointing at the corpse on the floor.

"father, i assure you I am grown enough to discern what I want and don't want. and what I don't want is a life of a knight. I am not an extension of you, I am my own person, and most importantly, I am a writer." anton concluded.

the crowd erupted into cheers at the prince's heroic delivery until giselle ran down, seemingly inspired.

oh no.

"and I am in love with a stable-boy!" she declared loudly.

just like that, the arena was dead silent again and the king went red with anger.

"this is all your fault!" he pointed at eunseok "you, and that sister-mistress of yours!"

the crowd began murmuring, confused.

"guards, execute them!" he declared.

now you were definitely screwed.

you saw eunseok running out the back as giselle and anton held their father back. panicking, you ran through the back of the arena, meeting up with eunseok.

"what the hell are we going to do?" he panted. you grabbed onto his hand and began running into the castle. you're not sure why, but your gut was telling you to head to the storage room.

once you reached the room, eunseok whispered "won't this be the first place they'll look for us?"

" just hurry up and light the candle, I have to grab my papers." you rushed. he found a set of matches and lit the candle as you frantically searched for all your research.

you heard voices gathering around the outside of the door.

"y/n. if we really do die, I need to tell you something." eunseok began dramatically.

"I love-"

he was interrupted by a banging noise on the door. you quickly blew the candle out, hoping the darkness would somehow make the two of you invisible.

but it was too late, the door flew open, and a man came down the stairs holding a... flashlight?

"stop there! london police, you are under arrest for trespassing."

"what?" you muttered, confused.

"oh my-OH MY GOD. we're back... we're back! what year is it?" eunseok asked the officer desperately.

"are you two on some sort of narcotics?" the officer asked.

the two of you were then escorted to the police station where your group supervisor had to bail you out. you and eunseok were grinning ear-to-ear the entire time.

you were informed that you couldn't go on the tour as a result of your trespassing and you couldn't care less. "I know how much you were looking forward to it, are you sure you'll be okay?" your friend asked, worried.

"I'll be fine! go enjoy it for me." you assured. I'm sick of that damn castle anyway.

after taking a long, warm bath, you settled onto the hotel couch before hearing a knock on your door.

opening it, you were greeted with the sight of an awkward eunseok.

"hey... can I come in?" he asked, nervous. "yeah." you smiled.

"I'm still trying to convince myself that was all real." he chuckled.

"me too." you breathed "but at least it's all behind us."

"yeah, thank goodness." he agreed.

"what was it you were saying before we got arrested?" you asked innocently.

"um- I was saying, i... wonder whatever happened to giselle and anton! surely there's some more information on them now that anton survived the duel." he changed the topic.

"you're right!" you exclaimed, rushing to your computer to google their names.

"it says here that the king passed away from a heart attack due to shock and anton inherited the throne, but he didn't want it so he passed it onto giselle. he went on to become a successful writer and giselle married a common man named mark, they had a son and a daughter named... eunseok and y/n!"

"you think they're sister-mistresses?" eunseok joked.

"gross. anyways, anton's most famous book is called across centuries and it's about a pair of lovers that time traveled." you gasped.

"well that definitely can't be about us, we're far from lovers." he laughed.

"right..." you agreed quietly.

"well, I guess that now that we're out of the medieval period, I can get out of your hair." eunseok began, standing up.

"wait." you spoke up suddenly. if giselle and anton could confess in front of an entire kingdom, than i can confess to a single guy.

"eunseok, i..." you began.

fuck. I can't bring myself to finish my sentence.

"you what?" he asked.

"I'm..."

"are you alright?"

"no! yes-i mean no?" you sputtered.

"i'm gonna go let you rest." he nodded, slowly backing away.

"I love you! I'm in love with you. please-please don't leave yet." you practically begged.

eunseok's jaw fell to the floor.

"I don't know how or when I started feeling this way, and I get it if you don't feel the same way but I had to tell you. I'm-"

you were interrupted by eunseok's lips crashing onto yours, and for once you didn't mind the interruption.

"will you be mine, lady y/n?" he asked dramatically, shortly after you two parted from the kiss.

"why yes, my knight in shining armor." you laughed.

#kpop reactions #kpop scenario #riize reaction #riize scenarios #riize imagines #riize x reader #riize fluff #eunseok #song eunseok #anton #riize #sm entertainment #kpop ff

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trillian-anders · 5 years ago

Text

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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heyheydidjaknow · 4 years ago

Text

I would’ve posted this earlier but, alas, I passed out early. This is a longer one, but tumblr got its act together so I can post it all in one part. You guys know where the other chapters are, and if you don’t, they’re at the end of the chapter. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go eat straight Nutella.

Chapter 10

“I’m thinking about getting some gloves.”

He looks over at you as he laces up his skates. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling slightly to yourself as you look your hands over, trying to imagine what they would look like. “Like, badass, fingerless gloves.”

He smiles. “Dude, those would look metal as fuck.”

“Totally, right?” Your smile widens. “With studs and shit.”

He gets to his feet, hopping onto the ice. “Hell yeah.” He drops a puck to assault as you go back to your backed-up coursework the best you can—your handwriting has gone to hell, but you are working with what you have.

You flinch at the crack of his stick, the cross of the T ending up underneath the letter somehow. A cheer from Casey tells you the rubber cylinder’s fate.

‘I swear I learned this.' You squint at the basic algebra, the pencil, crudely held in your fist, hovering over the packet. ‘Why can’t I do this?’

“How’s your pile coming along?” Another crack.

“It’s comin’.” You run your fingers through your hair. “Just… trynna remember how to do ne—… subtraction.” ‘Not debate. Negating is debate.’

He laughs. Another crack. “Man, that thing really fucked you over, huh?”

“Thoroughly.” You decide against continuing to torture yourself, having been at it for the past five hours—most of it in the library before Casey invited you to watch him practice some more— and set the large stack of homework back in your bag. “Are you actually making the shots?”

“Casey Jones doesn’t miss shots.” Another crack.

“Pardon me, oh almighty king of the ice.” You stand on your good leg, grabbing the side of the wall to watch as he went back to collect his pucks.

You two have managed to bond over a mutual respect/love of heavy metal and hockey and, seeing as you are staying out of the Hamatos’ hair for a while—not upon request, but out of courtesy—you have managed to spend a lot more time with him than you may have otherwise. Your school has not assigned Biology any big projects yet, so, until you are assigned it, you do not have anything other than your health to stress about.

“Pardon accepted.” You watch his form as he performs another slap shot.

“You…” you trail off, trying to remember what you were going to say.

“What?”

You shrug. “Dunno.” You lean your head on your arms. “I’ll remember eventually.”

He drops the second puck. “Got any plans after this?”

You sigh. “Nope. Probably gonna head home and try not to cut my fingers making dinner again.”

He takes another shot. “Then let’s go out after this. You and me.”

You smile. “What, don’t have any plans either?”

“Nah.” He drops the third. “Dad doesn’t care if I’m home late anyway.”

“True, true.” You have decided against prying into his home life; it is not your place and does not concern you in the slightest. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Wanna catch a movie? Heard there was this new pizza place just a couple blocks down if you wanna try to sneak it in.”

You snicker. “In the box and all?”

“Yes.” He grins mischievously and hits this one off the walls. Some way, somehow, it still makes it into the goal. “I bet your sweatshirt is big enough to stick the box under.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Not in the mood for burns on top of scars, Jones,” you reprimand him teasingly. “That just ain't it.”

“Then you can wear mine under that one and—”

“Your sweat-soaked hoodie you’ve been practicing in all day?” You cringe at the thought. “Over my dead body.”

“I mean…” he licks his teeth, smile widening, “it’s not exactly like you’re in the best—”

You laugh. “So not cool!”

He puts his hands up in defense, gliding over. “I mean, am I wrong, though?”

“That is completely besides the point, you ass.” You balance on your foot, crossing your arms. “Damn. Making fun of the girl with the broken leg.”

He leans against the wall. “Man, you were dying before the crash.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, whatever, Jones.” You lean against your hand. “How’s Johanna,” you sing.

He presses his hand against your face, pushing you away. “Annie is doing fine.”

You grin, steadying yourself on the wall. “Do you feel her, Johanna?”

“I’m gonna tell her you call her that if you don’t quit it.”

“Do you think that walls can hide her? Even when you’re at her window?”

He pushed his arm all the way out. You hop back.

“Her name isn’t even Johanna.”

“But she is Johanna,” you whine in protest, not bothering to hide your mirth. “She has the hair, the voice, the disposition. She’s an ingénue and you know it.” You have been teasing him about this for a while now: the girl in question—Annabelle Halshaw, a year below you two—had caught his eye when he had heard through the grapevine that she was the lead singer in some indie band. When he had shown you a picture and told you the story, you insisted on calling her Johanna for her golden hair and soft, sweet singing voice he had proudly had you listen to.

“She’s not.”

You roll your eyes, sitting back down as you grab your bag. “Lie to yourself all you want,” you goad, “but deep down, you know in your heart that the truth,” you put a finger up, “is apparent.”

He hops off the ice, sitting next to you as he unlaces his skates. “Whatever.” He smirks. “How’s The Don?”

You avert your gaze. “I haven’t seen ‘im.”

“Boo.” He tied the laces together. “Some girlfriend you are,” he ribs.

You go red. “Not my boyfriend. Not even friends with benefits.”

“Yeah, sure.” He sets the skates into his bag. “That’s why you already know his family.”

“That—”

“And why you’ve had him over to your place.”

“If you don’t cool your tits, I’m telling Lucy you’re crushing on her friend.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“What,” you simper, “think I won’t?”

He grabs his bag. “If you do, I’ll show her that video.”

You laugh, following him out of the rink. “You’re the worst.” You note how strange it is that he spent so little time on the ice as you two walk out, but you do not say anything about it.

“Hey, you’re the one throwing threats around.”

“Yeah,” you argue, “but my threat is clearly better.”

He rolls his eyes, pushing you again.

You two keep chatting on the way to the theatre about anything and everything, from new bands to upcoming games to the newest blockbuster horror movies. You are not personally on the hockey team, but, as his friend, it is your duty to care. Besides, you figure, it gives you something to look forward to.

The movie is fine. You convince him against sneaking an entire pizza in, you split a bucket of popcorn, and you give him shit for getting freaked out by the disembowelment scene. It is payback for him teasing you about crying during the last movie you two went to a couple of days ago.

You two stand at the streetlight.

“Dude, it’s like eight,” he groans. “It’s not even late.”

“True,” you agree. “Counterpoint: I still have another week’s worth of work to do by Friday on top of the homework I’ll have to do anyway, so unless you wanna help—”

“Forget I asked.” He pulls his hood up against the autumn wind. “Need me to walk you back?”

“Nah.” You shrug. “If someone mugs me, they’ll give me an excuse to not do my homework.”

“Murdered?

“I’m already halfway there.”

He grins. “See ya tomorrow, Y/N.”

“See ya, Jones.” You wave as he runs off.

The walk home is quiet and considerably easier than it was a couple of weeks ago. Seeing as you now get queasy whenever you get into a car, you have been limited to taking the subway and walking, which, among other things, has contributed positively to your physical strength. You know that you should probably at least try to take the bus or a cab around town to build your tolerance up, but the last time you tried, you had almost tripped and fallen from how shaky your legs were getting out. Oddly enough, you note as you go through the door, you do not have a considerably larger fear of heights than you did before, or of fire, but cars were tripping you up, even though you were the one that crashed it. You feel thankful that, at least, you do not think your fear is crippling. At least, you reason, you can still get into the car.

You lock the door behind you, debating whether you feel like adding to the collection of cuts you now possess— they are self-inflicted, but not intentionally so; you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge the fact that you physically cannot use your hands to cut things. You decide against it tonight, tossing your bag on the bed as you sprawl across it, admittedly exhausted. You allow yourself a couple of seconds with your eyes closed before you pull yourself up with a groan and get back to work.

A part of you wishes that you had the physical energy to stay out longer. You are always trying to find excuses not to sleep, and although the mountain of homework and readjusting your timelines for things you missed is certainly one way to keep yourself preoccupied, it is not exactly what you would consider fun. Then again, reliving your greatest traumas while you sleep is not exactly fun either.

You catch yourself peeling at the newly applied bandages on your fingers, fingernails catching under the crudely applied adhesives. Applying bandages properly requires more dexterity and patience than you currently possess, and you are hardly going to ask someone else for help with something as stupid as that. You have lasted this long without needing too much help. People can live by themselves. You will live, probably. Well? Not your concern.

‘I should eat something.’ Your eyes strain to focus on the piece of paper in front of you, your mind wandering aimlessly as you try to impress the actual importance of finishing this upon yourself, but you find that is an insurmountable feat.

You drop your bag off the side of the bed, reaching down and pulling your shoe off, leaning back into your pillows, the weight of the day practically immobilizing you. Fumbling hands switch the lamp off, bathing your room in momentary, blissful darkness before the gravity of your decision sets in.

“Alright, me,” you breathe to yourself. “What’s it gonna be today? My folks? Bradford? What’s his face? Hell,” you chuckle, “why not all three? I’m sadistic enough, I’m sure.”

You close your eyes. “Give me your worse,” you challenge as you slip into unconsciousness.

Two weeks.

He had kept his distance for about two weeks. It was not as if he did not care or was not morbidly curious what the crash had done to you—his glances through the curtains did not tell him much-- but, after some debate, he had figured you needed time to recuperate before you would want his company. Two weeks, he figured, would be enough time for you to get back on your feet or, at least, for you to start wanting company.

His excuse to see you had come in the form of his brother’s newfound prideful boasting. Feigning insult was as good an excuse as any to go see you; after all, he just so happened to be in the neighborhood anyway, and it was normal to pop in to see someone if you were already just a couple blocks down, right? Sneaking away was easy enough—they would not mind his absence—and he, after much prep work, knew exactly how and why he was going to say the things he would to get in your good favor. The plan, he knows, would have gone swimmingly.

His plans seem asinine when he hears you crying.

His brothers do not cry much. He does not, either; it was a habit that they had all thoroughly bullied themselves out of when they were much younger and, if they still did, he knew nothing of it. His master did not encourage this, per se, but talked, then, frequently about the importance of maintaining a more stoic disposition and not allowing emotions to cripple you in battle. Practically, Donatello was satisfied with that explanation, having not properly cried for more than a year now. To hear the sound again, especially coming from you, was novel.

Novel, too, is how you are crying. The sound is less of actual sobbing and more of you being strangled, quiet gasps for air escaping your lips as you shake on the bed, curled in on yourself and clutching at your chest as if whatever pain you are experiencing is centered and can be relieved by something between your collarbones. His eyes, for the first time, trace the lines on your skin, your sleeves riding up your arms to reveal them to him, tears racing down and along the gash in your face. Everything about the scene, from the soft gasping of panic to your position to the heavy scarring, is completely foreign to him, rivaled only by one or two particularly hard nights when he and his brother were much younger.

He slides in through the window, leaning onto the bed. His fingers flick your lamp back on as he grabs your shivering shoulder tightly, shaking you awake as he mumbles words of encouragement. He is not sure if his help will be appreciated, if snapping you out of it was even what he is supposed to do in this situation, but now is not the time to think of that. You are in pain. He can offer you this kindness. “Wake up,” he pleads, not thinking of how this would look until your eyes snap open to look at him.

Immediately, the reality of the situation sets in, and he scrambles off the bed. ‘Why did I think that would be a good idea?’ Panic. ‘You just walked into her room like a fucking creep. See, now she’s going to—’

“Sorry.”

He blinks, looking up at you from his place on the floor. “Huh?”

You clear your throat, wiping the tears from your eye with your sleeve quickly as you bring your knees to your chest, voice hoarse. “Sorry,” you repeat. “That you… I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for, but I know I should be apologizing.”

He is completely dumbfounded.

Your eyes glance to the open window. “I should probably start closing and locking my window, right?” You rub the back of your neck, voice clearing the longer you talk. “It didn’t occur to me since I’m so high up, but if you guys can get in, The Foot can too, right?”

‘Why is she apologizing?’

You push the hair out of your face. ‘You need something, right? I—uh—need to stop saying ‘right’ so much.” You shake your head to clear it. “’ Sup?”

He hears himself mumble some bullshit out about being in the neighborhood.

You sigh. “Sorry.” You close your eyes. “I’m usually up later; I’ve been so tired lately.”

‘Is she serious right now?’ He is completely lost. ‘She was just crying her eyes out in her sleep and now she’s apologizing? Did I miss something?’ You are smiling now, eyes still bloodshot, as if the whole thing is a figment of his imagination, still shivering where you sit.

He rises to his feet, kneeling in front of you on the bed. “What was it about?”

You blink, seemingly confused. “Huh?”

“Your nightmare,” he clarifies. “You were crying. What was it about?”

You avert eye contact. “Nothing too crazy,” you shrug. “Just about the crash. Nothing too exciting.” If possible, he thinks the bags under your eyes are worse than the last time you saw him.

He takes your hands loosely, turning them palms up to look, for the first time, at the patchwork quilt that is now your skin. “What happened in it?” He runs his thumb along the lines, keeping his voice low; he remembers how that used to help when Mikey used to have fits when they were younger. Leonardo and Raphael were never good at that; they took better to being more violently snapped out of their moods, but, then again, they never had this kind of breakdown; theirs were always more driven by loathing, self or otherwise.

You pause, still not looking him in the face as your muscles relax. He remembers, vividly, how he had done something similar when you two had first met, how much better, health-wise, you looked. ‘How long has it been since then? Three months? A little less?’

You take a deep breath. “Just… family shit,” you mumble, eyelids drooping as you trace his frame loosely. “Fire.”

Your gaze is piercing as you finally look at him properly. He feels something catch in his throat as you bow your head.

“It’s my fault, you know.” Your voice is so soft, barely a whisper. “That they’re dead, I mean.”

The air is a suffocating blanket that smothers you both.

“I never told you, did I?” Your focus does not shift as it might have a bit ago. It is locked solely and intensely on him, taking in every detail of his expression. “How I died? How they died? Why I died?”

Hesitantly, he shakes his head. He thinks it best to just be quiet and let you talk. He does not think he has ever heard anyone speak in quite the same tones, ever looked at him quite the same way you are.

You take another breath. “I wanted to try my hand at baking.” You force your eyes to stay focused on his. “I was—still am—not good about sleep. I always slept bad, and never at the right times. I used to take pills for it, to try to get myself back on track.”

He sees where this is going.

“I thought I could still stay up as late as I was used to.” You glance to the side, stealing yourself a second before focusing back on the boy in front of you. “I sat down in my room, turned on a movie. I set a timer. I fell asleep.” You swallow, hands shaking in his. “I can’t smell well, either. I must not have smelled the burning.” Your lips curl in a bitter smile. “Sure as fuck felt it, though, when I woke up.”

He lets you finish.

You try to blink the tears out of your eyes. “They were asleep,” Your voice rises ever so slightly. “I fell asleep at two something. I woke up when they started yelling.” You purse your lips, face reddening in shame as your nostrils flair. “They were trying to get someone out of bed when the roof caved in above them. My door got blocked.”

You feel yourself smile.

“So,” you strain not to cry, “that, Donatello, is why I’m here and why I’m dead, and why I really do deserve to burn again.” You laugh. “Hell, my body count is rivaling some serial killers, so that’s… that’s certainly something.”

He lets go of your hands, face blank.

You lean forward, placing your hands on your knees. “I don’t blame you,” You wipe a wayward tear out of your eyes, trying to swallow the frog in your throat. “Fuck, man, I’d think less of me, too, if it were me.” You nod towards the window. “I get it if you want to leave, but I thought you might want to know why—”

He stops you mid-sentence, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to him.

Your arms lay slack at your sides as you try to process what is happening.

He does not say a word.

You break.

You burry your face into him, tears welling in your eyes as you let out a strangled sob. You hold onto him tightly as you struggle to breathe, body shaking as you wrap your own arms around him the best you can. The sound roars in your ears like thunder, the deafening quiet of the apartment punctuated only by your own cries. He gently holds you there, resting his head on top of yours. Each sound you make sounds as though you are physically being choked by your guilt, and his chest feels as though it is being crushed by an invisible hand as he listens to your pain.

Neither of you knows how long you stay like that.

He considers telling you a story from a long time ago, about some training he and his brothers had back then, but thought better of it; he does not want to upset you any more than you already are, and being in good company with someone like him may not be exactly what you need right now. Granted, he does not know what you do need, but he knows listening to him talk about bashing brains would not help your sensibilities any.

Instead, he stays quiet.

You pull away after a while, wiping your face off again as you mumble out an apology.

“Don’t apologize.” He clears his throat. “It’s good to cry; it releases endorphins.”

You smile at that. “Well,” you giggle tearfully, “if it releases endorphins.”

He smiles back, face flushing. You look good, he thinks, even with your face all red. He knows that, scientifically, there is probably a reason, but he cannot think of it right now.

He stands up. “I’ll get—”

You grab his hand tightly.

He looks back at you.

“Can I ask a favor?”

He blinks. “Of course,” he agrees easily. “Anything.”

You glance off. “Promise not to take it weird?”

He feels his heart rate increase. “Y-yeah,” he nods.

He feels you pull him gently back on the bed. “Can you stay here tonight?”

His eyes widen as they flicker between the mattress and you. “What,” he clarifies breathlessly, “like sleep with you?”

You nod.

“In the same bed?”

You hesitate, nod again.

He clears his throat, face heating again. “Like, actually?”

“If it wasn’t actually, I wouldn’t ask, would I?” You grip his hand tightly. “I just really don’t want to be alone tonight.”

‘Oh.’ He mentally kicks himself. ‘She’s scared. Don’t make her uncomfortable.’

“It’s alright if you don’t—”

He is extremely quick to reassure you that he is more than happy—‘Bad choice of wording.’—to stay tonight until you fall asleep, but that he would not stay the whole night as to not worry his brothers.

You nod in agreement. “That’s fine.” You rub the back of your neck. “Not sure I would be good company when I wake up, anyway; I still have class.”

“Oh, right.” He nods in understanding, pushing himself further onto the bed. “Which side…?”

You shrug. “Which way do you face?”

“I usually lie on my stomach.”

“Then it doesn’t matter.” You slide your sweatshirt over your head after a bit of squirming around, tossing it onto the couch.

His face is now scarlet. “Okay then,” he mumbles, laying down on the side away from the window. ‘Is she going to—no, stop that.’

You look over at him, face down on the mattress. You can almost feel the heat coming off him. “Are you alright there, buddy?”

He nods.

You shrug, laying down under the blanket and curling into him, facing the window. “Mind getting the light?”

He reaches over, clicking it off.

You sigh in content, turning to face him, teetering on the edge of the mattress. “I’m not venomous,” you inform him teasingly. “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: of the two of us, you should not be the one who’s a nervous wreck.”

“You dunno that.” His voice is muffled by the bed.

“You’re the strong one,” you argue.

“So?” He turns his head to look at you. “I’m the guy laying in the—I’m just gonna stop that sentence.”

“It’s only bad if it isn’t consensual.” You smile reassuringly. “I invited you to lay with me, right? So, unless I make you uneasy, then we’re all good.”

He breaks eye contact. “So,” he clarifies, “you don’t mind if I move closer to you?”

You shake your head.

He hesitantly slides himself further onto the bed. “Can I move closer than this?”

“You’ve already seen me bawl my eyes out. You’re doing me a service. Move as close or as far as you want.”

He moves to press his side against you. “Is this fine?”

You nod. “Look, how about this?” You rest your arm under your head. “If you do something I’m uncomfortable with, the safe word is pina colada.”

‘We already have a safe word?’ He was not sure if he is on cloud nine or just terrified of you.

You are very confused why he looks so warm. “Do you need me to turn the AC on?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good,” he assures you tightly. Slowly, he reached an arm out and over your waist, pulling you closer. You do not seem to resist in any way, wrapping your good leg around one of his to pull him closer.

‘Conscious touching.’ He glances down at you, trying to act cool. ‘Conscious, intentional touching. She smells so nice and she feels—okay, this is not going to work if you keep being a perv.’

“Thanks,” you mumble, humming softly. “I appreciate this more than you know.”

Cloud nine. Definitely on cloud nine.

“Every time.”

You giggle.

He blinks. “What?”

“Every time,” you note, already nodding off. “Like in that book.”

‘Which one?’ “They wrote it down for a reason, right?” The longer he spends like this, the smoother he feels.

“Totally.” You smile, closing your eyes. “Just know that this goes both ways, alright? If you ever need help like this, you know who to call.”

This is new. ‘Help like this? What, like crying?’ His eyebrows furrow as he tries to understand what you mean. ‘Or he means if I ever need company in my—what did I just say?’

You pick up on his confusion. “Emotional help, I mean.” Your fingers trace the indentations in his shell absentmindedly. “I mean, I know sometimes I didn’t want to go to my family about stuff. I dunno if you have that…” you trail off, realizing that you might be unintentionally bashing his brothers. You sincerely do not want to blow this.

“I mean,” he says after a bit, “I think I get what you’re talking about.” He sighs. “You mean stuff that they’d make fun of me for, right?”

You nod.

He feels his heart melt a little. “I’ll have to take you up on that.”

You forgot how safe he makes you feel. “Goodnight, Donnie,” you mumble sleepily.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You pass out not long after that. If he has to estimate a general amount of time, he will clock it in at about five minutes. He does not move, however, until about thirty minutes before sunrise, too busy listening to the sound of your breathing and memorizing how exactly your body feels next to his. As he slips out of the window, early morning air waking him back up completely, he wonders if, someday, he could stay to see you wake up next to him. Not out of necessity, but just because you both wanted to stay like that for a while more.

‘I hope so. It’s a nice dream to have, anyhow.’

Table of Contents

Chapter 9

Chapter 11

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unfortunatelysirius · 5 years ago

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I love you, but I’m scared // Remus Lupin [Marauders Era]

「 ❁ 」PROMPT 「 ❁ 」

Y/N finds herself feeling non-platonic things for long-time best friend Remus. At risk of losing six and a half years of friendship, what can she do?

「 ❁ 」AUTHOR’S NOTE 「 ❁ 」

BET YOU THOUGHT I WAS GONNA DISAPPEAR OFF THE GLOBE FOR THE NEXT THREE MONTHS HAHAHAHA BITCH U THOUGHT, in serious news idk how I feel about this so uhhhh feedback???? also this was like 2650 words idk why I wrote so much. hope it isn't trash!!!! :D fill the inbox with some love (and some requests wink wink) and have a happy weekend!!!

It was past curfew at Hogwarts castle, the moon twinkling brightly in the sky outside, and to most students, it was time to snooze the night away. In the Gryffindor common room, all but two had vacated, retreating to their dorms for much needed relief. Y/N L/N and Remus Lupin had other priorities in mind.

Y/N was rewriting her notes for Arithmancy when she heard Remus clear his throat. He was against the other end of the sofa with his legs tucked into his chest, his Potions textbook acting as a surface for his parchment. Y/N was similarly using a journal. They’d been in the common room for hours, once surrounded by their friends before they decided to hit the sheets instead of their books. After their friends left, the two bookworms descended into silence. It’d been a while since either of them tried chatting through their overload of N.E.W.T.’s prep. Y/N peeked up, losing momentum, at his soft garble.

Remus’s eyes immediately went down to his legs when she looked over, so she looked down, too. His parchment was completely covered in perfect print with barely an inch left to write. “I need to borrow some parchment,” he said sheepishly.

Y/N’s face flushed for reasons beyond her, and she wordlessly fished around in her bag for some spare parchment. She felt less frazzled when she was able to locate a piece and hand it over to Remus.

“Thanks,” Remus said, his fingers brushing over hers without meaning to. Y/N felt sparks but she had no intention of speaking them into existence.

They didn’t speak for a time after that. Remus scribbled furiously, managing to have pretty penmanship through his rush, and Y/N took her time rewriting and slimming down her notes. They would glance at each other on occasion, sometimes connecting without meaning to (and consequentially Y/N would feel quite embarrassed), and they’d cough or sneeze or swallow or smile out of the blue. It went on. Only when the common room clock tolled at 3 did the pair acknowledge they needed rest; even if tomorrow were Sunday, neither of them enjoyed sleeping in.

Remus gave Y/N a tentative smile. “I got a lot done,” he told her, affirming what she felt for herself. Her smile back was mega-watt. Truly she felt better than she had before he’d asked her to study with him. She thought her feelings would get in the way and make her nervous being around him for so long—alone, stuffy and uncomfortably silent, all he had for company—but surprisingly the opposite happened. It was like any other time they hung out.

As friends.

“Me too,” Y/N agreed. She reached out and gave him a side hug before she could chicken out. The baffled look on his face, mixed with something she couldn’t be certain about, made her regret it—but whatever. It was 3 am and he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. I’ll remember it. “Goodnight, Remus.”

“Night, love,” Remus said sleepily, rubbing the crust from his eyes.

The two of them went up their respective staircases, looking back at the same time and waving a final farewell. Y/N felt like a little girl as she face-planted her comforter and snuggled into the pillow, briefly thinking about the pet name Remus gave her. He used it sparingly, usually when exhausted, and it seemed tonight was one of those nights.

Thinking about her best friend that way wasn’t right. He was her best friend. She met him before she met the Marauders, even before she became good friends with her dormmates. They’d been friends for so long that anything other than their routine would disrupt everything. Y/N had felt something other than platonic love for Remus since the summer of this year after he sent her a letter about his time at home. It wasn’t something small, either. She couldn’t fathom how she went from thinking it was gross when he drank pumpkin juice around her to watching his throat as he guzzled the atrocious liquid down. How—why—did she suddenly like him so much she couldn’t breathe around him? Why did things feel stilted?

Did he know?

She didn’t want to feel like this about him. He was her best friend, all their other friends were friends with each other, things were great the way they were and something new just wasn’t going to end well. Platonic love—maybe she was confusing it for the love she read about in her books. Maybe that’s all this was. Yeah.

She was overreacting.

Y/N didn’t fall asleep until it was well past what time it was when she stumbled back to her dorm, and by then the sun was coming up.

She wasn’t one to sleep in but that morning she made an unconscious exception.

Things may not have felt stilted when they hung out, but after they said their goodnights and went to bed, things changed. For Y/N, at least. She couldn’t be in the same room as Remus without feeling anxious beyond reason. She didn’t think she was obvious about it to their friends—maybe to the ever-observant Lily, but the Marauders had to be clueless, and Marlene and Alice were too busy talking about coursework. Remus wasn’t so oblivious. Y/N was constantly fleeing from conversations with excuses that never made much sense, and she was fumbling with what to say and how to act around him. She couldn’t ignore how her heart beat a little faster around him. Her entire body felt sweaty when he had his attention on her. She felt light, heavy, dead, and alive, at different ranges and nocks; she was sure it showed.

Of course it showed. Remus was bewildered, and honestly a little hurt, as Y/N’s nerves got the best of her. He didn’t try hiding how he felt and he didn't shy away from trying to rekindle things, completely oblivious to what he did. Y/N felt cruel and wanted to hate herself for what she was doing. Remus didn’t deserve this; he deserved a better. Their communication issues felt like years-old radio silence when really the days of Y/N’s strange behavior were slow like a boat against the tide.

Their friendship had never been out there. They weren’t like James and Sirius were with each other, even from the beginning, so tiptoeing around each other and being quiet was just a part of them. They were introverted at heart. Remus always preferred being alone with Y/N so they could engage and relax without their loud and rowdy friends joining, Y/N reciprocating his energy wholeheartedly. But somehow along the way of discovering her feelings, Y/N found herself feeling afraid. That fear translated to isolation, her flee instinct on a victory roll as it repeatedly conquered “fight.” The tiptoeing became profuse excuses, blatant footsteps, Y/N on a never-ending treadmill that just kept getting faster.

She didn’t want to admit to anything, especially if it meant losing Remus. Yet her heart also hated being away from him, hated doing things with anyone besides Remus, hated running away when all she wanted to do was have his company. Why was she so pathetic?

Her friends were obviously more observant than she thought, and they weren’t shying from asking questions, and eventually Y/N started running from them too.

She didn’t know how to get what she wanted without breaking her heart along the way.

She hid and she ran and she avoided. A cycle that inevitably caught up with her.

Sirius, the friend closest to her aside from Remus, met her during first-year Potions and hadn’t stopped pestering her since. He wasn’t the most sensitive bloke and feelings weren’t a subject matter you went to him with. If you needed him to threaten or prank a bully, fine. If you wanted a dueling partner for the big Defense Against the Dark Arts practical, sold. If you were being obvious about running away from his best friend… feelings were probably involved, so he knew he wasn’t the right man for the job, but he’d have something to say regardless. He always knew what to do, even if it would backfire tremendously.

Y/N was in her usual library nook reading an old fairy tale book, having been there for two and a half hours after Remus tried asking her to study with him, and she was just getting to the good part when—

Sirius popped his shaggy head around a bookcase, a loud, “Hullo,” echoing in the corner, scaring Y/N so badly that her book went flying feet away.

He merely glanced at the book (probably trying to see the title) before his entire body appeared from around the shelf. “Ah, so here’s where you’ve been running off to, aye?” He raised his eyebrows in a “Huh?” gesture. “Remus said you might be here.”

Y/N winced, remembering that Remus knew all about her favorite spots around the castle. He must have seriously thought she had something against him if he was abiding her avoidance by doing some of his own.

“I’m reading,” Y/N said weakly, grimacing when Sirius picked up her book and flipped through the pages. “Wasreading.”

“You’ve been avoiding Remus for three days,” Sirius said pointedly, tossing her the book. Beauty and the Beast. How fitting. “He’s right glum about it. Bet he’s half mad wondering what he did to make you cross with him, too. So what was it?”

Y/N felt like a fool thinking she was being subtle with anyone. if she didn’t catch it from her friends’ interrogations, she caught onto their suspicions now. Sirius wasn’t an idiot; Remus wasn’t either. Y/N’s actions weren’t normal, contrary to what her inner reassurances told her over the past 72 hours.

“He didn’t do anything,” she told Sirius, hoping she sounded believable. Sirius looked like he wanted more: a confessionmost likely. “I… just feel weird around him.”

Sirius smirked. “Ah, I see,” he said. Judging by his growing amusement, he’d immediately figured her out and was just taking his sweet time reveling in it. “Love, pesky little bugger, isn’t it?”

“W—love?” Y/N shook her head frantically. “No, that’s not it. I just—”

“You’re avoiding your best mate because things feel ‘weird,’” Sirius pointed out. “You already know about his furry little problem so that��s ruled out. What else makes being around a best mate weird? Maybe fancying him?”

“Believe what you want,” Y/N said tiredly. Her brain chanted at her, Accept it! Accept it! Accept it! but she didn’t want to accept it. Not even deny it, honestly. She thought avoiding him would avoid ruining their friendship, and she knew eventually if she let herself get convinced there weren’t real feelings involved, things could go back to normal. It was all a matter of time and patience. Sirius was not adhering to her internal plans… not that she wanted him to know anything about what went on in her head. He’d just take advantage of it.

Sirius stared at her, not buying the act, before turning around. “Aye, Moony, come over here.”

Seconds passed and the color drained from Y/N’s face.

“Don’t worry, he didn’t hear us,” Sirius said with a grin, eye dropping down into a wink that drove most of Hogwarts wild, “but you guys are about to talk. Good luck, mate.”

He disappeared around the corner and Y/N strained her ears trying to hear the end of what murmured conversation went on between Remus and Sirius when they met. Sirius’s loud footsteps echoed in her corner as he left, replaced by Remus’s nervous face peering around the bookcase.

“Hi,” Y/N said nervously, wanting to bury her face into her sleeves. She couldn’t do that without looking like a child so she just ran her hands over her copy of Beauty and the Beastand hoped (prayed, more like) for the best.

Remus walked deeper into the corner. “Hi,” he returned.

They stared at each other without erupting into quiet conversation as they usually did when alone, and Y/N felt like screaming knowing she’d caused the rift. If she was honest—and she bloody well had to be, knowing that she’d done what she had to Remus’s feelings—she’d put her feelings over his and prioritized her own discomfort. She ran because she didn’t like how she was thinking or feeling. Remus didn’t even get a chance to coast along; he was left in dirt, befuddled and bereaved.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N choked out.

“I’m sorry, too,” Remus immediately said, his head of chestnut hair falling so that his scalp was visible to Y/N but his face wasn’t. His voice was shaking, like he was fighting a battle with his own nerves—and losing. “I don’t know what I did to hurt you, but I’m sorry. If my… if my problem’s what’s bothering you, I promise I won’t bother you anymore. I just thought—”

“Remus,” Y/N said, realizing what he thought. Realizing she was the biggest fucking idiot—biggest fucking jerk—in the universe. He thought she was avoiding him because he was a werewolf. That was the furthest thing from her mind, but how could she put that into words? She was shaking from all the things she should say, could say, didn’t say, and all she mustered was his name, coming out like a sob. “That’s not…”

“It’s okay,” Remus said with a barely controlled breech in composure. His eyes betrayed him, signaling to Y/N that he felt disgusted with himself and he was in pain. Because of me. Y/N wanted to stand up and hug him. She knew she needed to reassure him that he was so wrong, that she would never turn her back on him because of something out of his control, but the pit of self-loathing in her stomach was making words escape her. “I know I’m a monster… You don’t have to apologize. I deserve it—”

“Remus, goddammit,” Y/N said. She began to feel angry about how he was talking about himself.

Remus continued on, his face turning wet with tears; “I know that what I am is always going to be a part of me, I don’t expect anyone to accept it. I don’t accept myself. How can I expect anyone else to? You were kind enough to even give me what you have—"

“I love you!” Y/N burst out, louder than she’d ever talked, unwilling to listen anymore. She knew everyone in the library probably heard her but she didn’t care. Her attention was all for Remus, her mind exploding with persistent reasons why she should flee again—but she was tired of running. And she was tired of hurting Remus in the process. She was tired of him thinking she ran from him because of that, something he could never have helped. “I love you, Remus, but I’m scared. Not scared of you. Not scared of your problem. Hell, I don’t even care about that! Okay? I’m scared of ruining everything we have. We’ve been friends since bloody first year! That’s a long time! Sirius is like a brother, and James and Peter are some of my best mates that you’ve given me. If I—if I love you like this, it’s broken. It’s fucking ruined, innit? Things would never be the same and I, I’d rather break my heart a thousand times than walk over yours.”

“Y/N…” Remus stared at her, mouth agape. If there was a word for his expression, he was confounded.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered in return. And she was, so bloody sorry she could build a mountain out of her apologies. “

“Don—don’t be sorry,” Remus said, more assertive, turning his head every which way like he had a fever he couldn’t shake. “Y/N… I love you, too. You know that, right? I thought… How could you love someone who’s a monster?”

“Remus, shut the bloody hell up. You’renot a monster. You’re kind and selfless and brave and smart, and if anyone doesn’t deserve someone, it’s me. I don’t deserve you, Remus. But I love you more than I’ve loved anyone in my life and it’s unimaginable what I’d do for you. You give me butterflies but you also make me more scared than I was during O.W.L’s week. You’re just—perfect, Remus. Bloody perfect. And I’m sorry for running but know it was never because of you—it’s because I was afraid to lose you.”

“You won’t ever lose me, Y/N,” Remus said with tears. Y/N had gotten up from her chair, book falling off her lap, and she was there to wipe them away. She held his head in her hands, staring at him like he was her whole bloody world. She hoped he saw it. “I… you’re my best friend. And you’re the love of my life. I’ve been afraid, too, but maybe we can have both without losing either.”

“If anyone can make that happen, it’s us,” Y/N said, laughing through her tears.

Remus was not a monster and at the end of the day Y/N wasn’t either.

But hurting the people you loved was something a monster did, does. So what did that make Y/N?

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poseyxharper · 4 years ago

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Who?: Persephone Harper and Andrew Harper

What?: Posey finally calls her dad to talk after six months of avoiding him.

When?: ...sometime post-December 25th... yep

Where?: Allen Residence in Los Angeles

Why?: B/c Cheese needed it. Let me and my wordy self be.

The warm air in Los Angeles hit her face as she stepped outside the Allen house. It was cooler than it had been in the summer, but it still was much milder than she was used to when celebrating the winter holidays. Perhaps the fact that it was milder made her think of the fact that Persephone had always been more of a fan of spring. Maybe that love had been predestined with her mother’s choice of name when the girl was born at the end of May, or maybe she’d acquired that taste for herself. She couldn’t decide most days lately.

Between her conversations and texts that she’d had with David and celebrating Christmas in a brand new way, her dad had been at the forefront of her brain more often than not. She had enjoyed being actually happy and feeling an immense amount of love being there in Los Angeles- but there was a pang of guilt for feeling that way.

After Genevieve left them, Posey felt as though the world had fallen onto her shoulders. With her dad in the hospital and her sister not completely understanding what was happening, that was where her will to make others happy even if she might not be really began. That was not to say that she was insensitive before the abandonment, but someone had to step up and make things okay for everyone after things started crumbling. Holidays were not exactly enjoyed as she spent the days before and during cleaning and cooking and attempting to make sure that her father and sister would enjoy it. She wanted them to have happy memories of the days, even if she made and remade multiple dishes because she couldn’t get them right. They had to be right. If they weren’t exactly right, the magic of the day would disintegrate.

Seeing her father and sister happy was what fueled her to keep doing all the efforts she did every year. This was now the first year she hadn’t actively done everything in her being to make sure they both enjoyed their day. Of course, it was different- Dani was an adult of her own, and knew how to make herself happy now. Posey had found her own Danny and was thrilled to be sharing her holiday season with him. And this year had brought the wedding of her father and… Ciara. It was already going to be a completely different feeling.

But it would have fine. She would have found a way to make it all work. She would have cooked and cleaned and done everything to make everything work out. Everyone could be happy.

Everyone should be happy.

Posey just couldn’t bring herself to show up in Denver though… not after the summer. She’d spent months now avoiding the thoughts of how upset she still was about the entire situation- filling all of her time with coursework or adding more extracurriculars to her schedule from time to time or even just throwing herself into a book or research on some random topics. But the end of the semester gave her way too much time to think.

Her eyes glanced down at her phone screen, feeling a rather familiar knot in her stomach as she hovered over her father’s number. Quickly, she tapped his name and held the phone up, the trilling of the ring echoing in her ear.

“Posey?” Her father’s voice finally answered after what felt like an eternity. “Posey, is that you?” “Y-Yes. It’s me.” “Oh, dear, it’s really nice to hear you. I- Belated Merry Christmas.” “Yes, same to you.” -a moment passed, and she drew a breath in. “I- How have you been? What was Christmas like? What did you eat?”

A soft laugh came through the phone. “I am perfectly healthy, Posey. I just went to the doctor last week. Everything is looking well. It was actually… very quiet. Dani stayed in New York because she booked a couple gigs for the holidays. So it was just myself and… Ciara.” He let out a soft sigh. “I’m sorry, Posey… I really am so sorry. I should have told you the truth years ago.. After your mother- after Genevieve left.. But when I got sick, and there was already so much stress on you then with that and I didn’t want to add to it… I know that’s no excuse, dear… I just hope that you can forgive me or at least we can start to try and mend things..”

Posey listened to her father’s words carefully, breathing in shakily as her eyes well up with tears. “Dad…” There were so many things that she wanted to say, but honestly didn’t know where to even begin. She was still upset and kind of angry about how everything unfolded, but she also was exhausted with keeping this grudge of sorts against one of the only people in her life that never made her feel like she was strange or odd for the ways she handled things. Perhaps it was because he had relied on her, but she still missed being able to tell him about highs and lows of her life. Even when she was overseas, she made time to video call or chat with him about goings on.

She sniffled, wiping a tear that finally fell down her cheek. “I- I am still upset. I can’t lie about that. It does still hurt quite a lot that this… life-long secret was just blurted out so nonchalantly as if it wouldn’t shake me. And I realize that that was Ciara’s doing and not yours, but you know me. You’ve known me my entire life, Dad… I’ve never enjoyed sudden surprises. I like plans. I like structure. I like knowing what I am walking into as much as I can and you two had over TWO years to tell me this.” She paused and took a breath. “But… I also hate this anger and sadness consuming a part of me… It’s not helping me, it’s only hurting me… So, I agree. I would like to try and mend things with you..” She chewed on her lip for a moment. “But I’m not ready to do that yet with Ciara. ...I thought I had an idea of who you were marrying, but now it feels like she is a complete stranger again..”

“Slowly but surely, perhaps?” Her father’s voice said hopefully. “I understand that this is not something any of us can repair overnight, Posey… but I do know that Ciara really does want to explain and get to know you quite a lot. She doesn’t know where to start, but I have a lot of faith that in time, you and her will create a plan to hear each other out.” “Let’s… re-evaluate at another time, okay?” Posey said, sniffling again. “Okay, Posey.” Another moment passed. “Perhaps… we can video chat soon? Just the two of us?” “Yes, that sounds like a rather good plan. I will text you with updates on when I am back on the campus so we can best determine a time.” “Wonderful. And thank you… for wanting to mend fences.” “Of course. Goodbye, Dad.” “Bye Posey. Talk soon.”

#self paras #headcanons #tldr it's an attempt at a resolution with too many words #yet probably not enough at the same time #oh well

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naomixhill · 5 years ago

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3 July 2020

I haven’t wanted to go here, but I am ready now.

It was 2015. I met you in the darkest year of my life. It was the year of ultimate betrayal. It was the year that I sold myself for my best friend’s tuition; the year where I woke up every day and enjoyed a a bowl of Ritalin to get through advanced mathematics and computer science coursework; the year I made it into one of the most exclusive investment banking programs in the country with an acceptance rate under two percent; the year that I co-ran a finance club and fell into every bad habit that I never quit; it was the year that, while on the surface, seemed like I had achieved so much and had a steady slew of investment banks pursuing me, and was constantly in and out of New York, I realized perhaps for the first time that things were not getting any better.

It was the year that I was found out, blackmailed, and nearly kicked out of school. It was the year that my best friend met a drug dealer, stole everything out of our apartment -- right down to the bathroom curtain! -- when moving to a fully furnished home and I was so poor that I couldn’t replace a thing, so I slept on the floor every night and waited for her to come back. She never did, but from September to May that year, I waited. (Sometimes it feels like I’m still waiting.)

And then I met you. And you were everything. You were the CEO of a proprietary trading firm in Manhattan, traveling to Columbus on business. I was going into my junior year and had just decided to turndown my dream internship at a bulge bracket investment bank to accept a worthless job at a small financial services company locally. It was full time and I was so hungry and so poor. I couldn’t tell my family how I was living or what was happening, so I just survived.

We met at a small Mexican restaurant in a yuppie town outside of Columbus during a trivia night. I was out with my new coworkers, and you were out celebrating after having closed a business deal. I saw you from across the room, and thought you were the most handsome person that I had ever laid my eyes on. You were dressed in a black button down. Chiseled jaw, slcked back hair, fiercely green eyes. You went home with me and it began.

For the first few months, you would fly to Columbus and I would fly to New York. You’d surprise me frequently by showing up with flowers to my door or showing up at a restaurant or bar on High Street. Somehow, you always knew where to find me and you would take me out on the town, somehow finding places that I didn’t even know existed in my own city. And when I would go to New York, we would stay at the Gansevoort and parade around the Upper East Side and the Meatpacking District. It never ceased to amaze me that no matter how long the line was, or how exclusive the place was, you walked right up to the bouncer and they knew you and would let us inside. It was that easy.

In October, the day before my birthday, you closed up the Manhattan office and joined me in Columbus. You had so many investors that worshipped you that it didn’t matter much if you had a prop shop or a commodity pool. So you ran a pool from our apartment while I went to school, and we planned to return to New York the following year.

Less than two months later, while working full time and going to school full time, I found out that I was pregnant. You had mentioned so many times that you wanted a familia. And soon following, you admitted that you already had one. In the outskirts of New York, you had a wife and three year old son. In a wealthy New Jersey suburb, you had another ex-wife and two other children. Your wife was a playboy golf girl who was frequently seen on reality television. I knew her long before I knew her. She was beautiful, and I’d imagine you as a couple and how you must have turned heads everywhere you went. But she was also reckless and impulsive, and lived in a ski resort as her primary home while she drink and inebriated her entire life away.

I never suspected it, and things were never really the same afterward. On a Tuesday in December, right before Christmas, I aborted our child. I have never said those words, but it is the truth. The guilt was immeasurable.

Not long afterward, you had asked me to go clubbing with you at one of the nearby EDM clubs. Cosmic Gate had come to town, and you desperately wanted to go. But I was in pain and bleeding and tired from my hectic schedule. So I said no. It was the first time I had ever said no to you. You threw me into the bookcase so hard that a neighbor came up from the ground floor to see if everything was alright. I said nothing as my head bled from behind. When the neighbor left, you ran back toward me, and pushed me back up into the wall; I slapped you, the wrong move, and ended up beaten to the floor.

I couldn’t walk the next day. But I deserved it and I knew it.

So I smiled at you when we woke up the next morning, and we never spoke about it. By the spring, I was offered a promotion in Philadelphia, which allowed us to get closer to your children, who by then, we were going to visit every two weeks. It made so much sense to relocate and drop out of college. I had you and you took care of me and the least that I could do was take a position that allowed us the chance to be closer.

So we moved to Philadelphia and we married. And then you started disappearing in the night. Sporadic at first, then consistently. It took nearly a year before I realized who you were and what was happening.

At the same time when you were coming home bloodied, bruised, and sometimes vomiting, I was going through it in my own way at work. I was one of fifteen new hires. We were all young, capable, attractive, and very close. Our manager was unlike anyone I had ever met in a corporate environment, but it was fitting for Philadelphia. She was a size zero with implants and shiny tan skin; she had bleached blonde hair with pink strips and loved to wear mini-pencil skirts and collared-shirts with about three of the buttons missing. Everyday, she wore large hoop earrings, dark eyeliner, and five inch heels. But she wasn’t just attractive, she was hysterical and endearing and intelligent and multi-dimensional. And being with her made me happy.

The manager, myself, and several other new hires were as close as people could be. You were often doing whatever you were doing, and I had hours to spend however I wanted. So after work, we would all go for drinks or grab cigarettes from the local Wawa and smoke at a nearby park.

Everything was great until it wasn’t. By the fall of 2016, everything went irrevocably to shit. I was in the company bathroom freshening up after an upsetting call with a client, when my manager walked in. She grabbed me from behind and put her head up to my shoulder as we locked eyes in the mirror. She tried to kiss me, but I pulled away. The next day, I was in a meeting with human resources about my poor performance and attitudinal issues. I was so stunned, so humiliated, that I had no idea what to do. So I simply said I would work harder to improve myself and apologized.

After that day, no one at this company ever talked to me again. I was put on an action plan and nearly fired. Through all of it, you were busy, and when we did talk about it, you aggressively had mentioned that I had provoked the situation. And I was so confused, I thought that was probably the case. I took a job at a nearby company in downtown Philadelphia, but it haunted me. It still haunts me now.

Things started to get worse. The new company, the new job, was too much for me. I couldn’t comprehend what was happening in my life anymore, and I had a breakdown. You told me to get stronger. So as I was breaking, you began hitting me with more frequency. I remember one specific night where you had picked me up and thrown me across the kitchen table.

I stopped being able to work by April of 2016. We relocated back to Ohio in order for me to try to finish my degree, again. I began having panic attacks almost every time I left the house. We began fighting with more frequency and more violence.

By 2018, I was able to finish my schooling and got a job at a shitty local company in the area. Our plan still was always to return to New York, but I needed to stabilize myself first and this was the way we decided to do it. One day in the fall, only about two months into my job, I woke up to an empty bed. I assumed you were out blowing off steam, like you did with some frequency, but then I noticed many of your clothes and your luggage was gone. For three days, I called you and I sat next to the door in complete silence.

But I never heard from you again.

You left me. And I never figured out why.

#memory #bpd

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writing-appreciation · 6 years ago

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Pete, I'm asexual (Pt.2)

SYNOPSIS: Telling Peter you're asexual is more complicated than you thought.

PARING: Ace!Reader X Peter Parker

WARNINGS: Some gun violence, Peter being a sweet boy, passing out, and a poor attempt at a cliffhanger.

A/N: The third part is mostly finished, but I have some major editing to do with it. I'm looking at it being the final part, but there may just be a fourth part. We'll see how my chaotic brain pieces everything together.

*********************************************************

II…

“I’ll tell him during the next possible second.”

This promise was vague enough to continue avoiding the problem. The ‘next possible second’ was impossible to predict. What with his villains and my coursework: our time was unpredictable.

I’d be lying if I said I was planning that next second. In fact, I had been burying myself in school and work so as to avoid confrontation about the problem.

Apparently Peter had caught on to this and requested that we have a date night. What was I going to say? No? To my sweet boyfriend who was trying to spend time with me? No, no I was not. Except I’m starting to wish I had.

Peter insisted that we went out to Maiella: one of the fanciest places in Queens. I, being the trash I am, suggested a pizza place close to my apartment. Peter said it was his honor to take us there. Apparently Tony recommended it to him as a perfect dinner date destination. He also said it was a way to apologize for being too caught up in protecting New York to spend quality time with “his girl.”

The girl he was about to lose.

…

We were near the east river, so naturally Peter said we should go for a walk afterwards. Who was I to refuse? This could be the perfect opportunity to tell him about my asexuality.

So we walked, hand in hand in along the river. He dramatically swung our arms about. This made both of us smile and laugh.

I will miss this.

“Hey, Peter, let’s sit down.” I suggested.

“Oh, tired already are we?” He coyly smirked.

Instead of a witty response I walked to a nearby bench.

As we sat in tranquil silence, I couldn’t help but think the worst. The second I told Peter Parker I don’t like sex, he’d leave. They always do.

Peter seemed to know something was up. Damn his spidey sense.

He broke our silence with a content sigh, placing a chaste kiss on my hand.

“I’ve missed this. The whole being an actual couple thing. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy with criminals.”

I felt my chest tighten. He was actually blaming himself for our lack of couple time. When in truth I’m really the one to blame.

“Come on, babe, it’s not your fault. We’ve both been incredibly busy. If anything it’s actually my fault.”

“(Y/n), what do you mean? I literally have been…”

I could tell he was about to go on a rant about his heroic alter-ego, but I hushed him before he could proceed.

“Peter, listen.” I paused, ensuring I had his full attention: I did. He grabbed my other hand and faced me completely. His senses could tell him something big was about to happen.

I took a deep breath in.

“Peter, I’m a…” Suddenly my confession was thrown off by the ringing of a gunshot from across the park.

Both of our attentions shot to the scene we couldn’t quite clearly see. I could make out an armed man in a black hoodie and a well dressed couple in the line of fire. They looked terrified. I imagine so did I.

Before I knew it Peter grabbed my arm and pulled me behind a trash bin beside the bench.

“Stay here.” He commanded with concern laced in his voice.

I just nodded and pulled his suit out of my purse.

He gave me a quick meek smile and said a quick thank you while dressing into Spiderman.

“Hey, that’s not a very nice thing to do to a nice couple!” He shouted as he swung into the line of fire, effectively blocking the gunman from the bystanders.

“Well if it isn’t the spider in spandex.”

“Hey, it’s actually a Kevlar- Polycarbonate fiber mix, but you’ll have time to research that when you’re in prison.”

I watched the banter. Making a mental note to myself to scold Peter for playing too much during the heroics of his job. At least, if Peter would still be around for me to scold.

The back and forth between the two continued for another minute or so before I felt a light tap on my shoulder.

“Miss, you shouldn’t be here. There’s an armed man.”

I turned around to see a young lady, definitely no older than me. Behind her, there was a police officer, several police officers, actually. She looked afraid. That’s what made me realize something was up.

“It’s okay, Spiderman’s there. He’ll help.” I replied while searching her eyes she lightly nodded, but her breathing hitched.

Then, one of the “officers” roughly shoved the lady out of the way. He met my gaze with the barrel of a gun. He cocked it.

My eyes shot to Peter for a second. He was busy chatting with an officer. I debated taking a chance of fighting this out. Maybe, just maybe I could take him, but the other “officers” were still a part of the equation. But if I somehow managed to get that gun to go off, then Peter could notice and come help me.

I apparently ran out of time due to the fact that the barrel of the gun was pressed to my temple.

“Scream, Miss. (L/n), and I will blow your pretty little brains out. Get up.”

I slowly did while grabbing my purse.

“Drop the bag.” He said simply.

I didn’t.

“I said drop the bag.” He said with more anger.

I took the opportunity to quickly drop the strap of the bag in my hand and swung it at his head. This succeeded in throwing him off, but didn’t help my situation any. He maneuvered his arms around me, pressed the gun to my lower abdomen. I pushed his hand away, but the gun went off in the chaos.

“(Y/n)!” I heard Peter’s muffled voice call to me.

I felt numb. It was when Peter rushed to me and his hands immediately went to my stomach that I realized I had been shot. I felt a wet substance being placed on my wound. His webbing, I assume.

I looked out my peripheral to see the real NYPD taking down the fake ones. Peter saw my attention was drawn elsewhere, so he lightly cupped my cheeks and made me face him.

“Are you okay? How are you feeling? God, I should’ve known.” His thoughts began spilling out of his mouth.

I lightly smiled at this dorkiness, but that small joy was shadowed by the stabbing pain that appeared suddenly and unexpectedly in my stomach.

“Pete, it hurts.” I struggled to get out.

It did. Every time I stubbed my pinky toe, or accidentally sliced my fingers while cooking, or fell on the pavement was nothing compared to the intensity of what I was feeling presently.

Peter caught on and held his hand out, signaling or me to grab it and squeeze with pain. Ideally, he is the best for this. Considering he can handle 8 times his weight, I was confident I couldn’t hurt him. I latched my hand onto his and squeezed for dear life.

Before I knew it, my eyelids felt heavy. I know Peter was telling me, begging really, to not close them; and to stay awake, but the prospect of sleep sounded nice.

This was yet another time I tried to tell Peter Parker I was asexual, but this time it ended up with me being shot, and passing out. It’s like the universe was trying to tell me something.

#marvel #marvel imagines #marvel x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #ace!reader x peter parker #ace!reader

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vickypritchard · 5 years ago

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Skills

5 Things About Me: - Methodical - Motivated - Creative - Active - Co - operative

I mentioned ‘5 things about me’ in a paragraph on my CV, I felt it was important for people to not only know about my work, skills and qualifications, but also information and well-rounded skills about me.

“- Methodical - like to do things in order and to a high standard when working. This helps to plan and work out what can be improved. - Motivated - stay motivated by making progress lists and checklists, giving motivation by showing what has been achieved. - Creative - Having done a graphic design level 3 diploma before University, participated in animation and graphics during first year, and chosen photography in second year. Sound is also creative especially when recording sound effects, coming up with ideas of what objects used in everyday life can sound like and what types of sounds can be used for in projects. - Active - Taking part in yoga, which is a great activity to relieve stress and focus on the mind. - Co-operative - After having done a lot of group work in first year, worked in retail for over three years and chosen to participate in a group project as part of second year, group work is no problem. Main strengths are communicating and giving feedback to help grow ideas and develop them into final projects.”

Being methodical is an important business/work-based skill to have as it is a way to show logical thinking and prioritise what work is most important and needs to be done first.

I added being motivated as part of my skills as I think it is key to aim for goals and to set targets to achieve.

Being creative is also an important skill to show as I like designing/creating things and always have done.

I added being active to my skills as I wanted a variety of skills to show to possible employers, to show them that I am not just work - orientated and have other hobbies.

Being co-operative is key to show off to employers as it shows you want to be a team player and are willing to work well with others.

‘5 things about me’ is listed near the top of my CV so people reading it will get an instant understanding of who I am and what I am passionate about outside of work and University.

Skills: A list of my skills I have included on my CV are; - Logic Pro X - MIDI - MAX MSP - Adobe Premiere Pro - Adobe Audition - Adobe Photoshop - Adobe Illustrator - Adobe Animate - 3DS Max - Adobe Dreamweaver

I have included skills on my CV that I have a strong understanding of but aren’t related well to sound, so have decided to focus on the following four skills in detail as they all have some elements of the sound industry in them; - Logic Pro X - Adobe Premiere Pro - Adobe Audition - Adobe Animate

Skills are important to include on a CV as they allow employers to know what each individual is capable of, what they have a good understanding of and areas that they may need to learn/improve on if they were to be hired for the job.

A skill is the ability to carry out a task well with a good outcome, often completed within a given amount of time. Skills are normally gained through experience, completing tasks around a certain area of skill will increase the understanding and knowledge of the task. Skills are important to show off to a employer as it allows people to prove how much they know, what experience they have and what they are capable of and hopefully they'll show they are better/more skilled than other candidates.

LOGIC PRO X - I have a decent understanding of the skill Logic Pro X, which I learnt about in my first year of University as part of my my ‘Sound in Moving Image’ unit. The brief for this unit was to create original and digital sound effects and music to put into a video given to us. I was given this video ‘Space Invader’ which involved a small orange alien protecting its planet against an astronaut invader. I really enjoyed creating this coursework, especially the digital sound effect elements. Logic Pro X requires a lot of planning, creative thoughts and ideas as well as organised structure. Planning is required firstly to decide what sound effects belong at what time frame, how long the sound will be for and what the sound will be made of - recording or digital? What instrument if digital? What object if recorded? How long the sound will last for is also important to know for recording objects as you have to get the best sound and most accurate time length possible to put into the project. Logic Pro X is widely used throughout the sound industry and is a great skill to have for identifying the best sound elements and what way is best to create them.

https://twitter.com/VickyPritchard_/status/1208863557250666497?s=20

This is a link to my Twitter account that shows the video as unfortunately I was unable to upload the video into this post.

This is a screenshot of my Twitter account showing the video, it is important for me to show off as much of my work as possible using social media to try to increase recognition and gain as much feedback as possible.

How can I show this skill on my website?

This is a screenshot of my website I created with a link to my video on Twitter. I felt it was necessary to put my video link into my website as it benefits my branding by showing off my Twitter account and showing work I am capable of.

ADOBE PREMIERE PRO - I have a strong understanding of the Premiere Pro skill as I have used it as my main software for my coursework for ‘Film and Technology’ in first year and have used it to make my final advert for my second year coursework in ‘Form and Function’. Premiere Pro is a great skill to have, as it includes the use of film, film editing and sound editing. Having a skill in all of these areas would be greatly useful for the industry I want to work in - Sound in the Film industry as it shows I am capable of more than just sound, and know more about the industry and how it works.

This is a screenshot of the software ‘Premiere Pro’, the screenshot shows a scene of my second year ‘Form and Function’ coursework in the making.

https://twitter.com/VickyPritchard_/status/1212874165226737664?s=20

This is a link to my Twitter account that shows the video as unfortunately I was unable to upload the video into this post. I created all the drawings/animations of this advert and placed the sounds into the video, I linked the source of the music and sound effects at the end of the advert. The animations were made in Adobe Animate and the advert was produced, with the editing of real-life film footage and sound in Premiere Pro.

How can I show this skill on my website?

This is a screenshot of my website with the same link to my Premiere Pro ‘Form and Function’ advert video on Twitter.

ADOBE AUDITION - During my time learning about sound software, I have self taught myself the skill Adobe Audition, which I have been learning every now and then since my first year of University I use this skill to my advantage for coursework to edit digital or recorded sound effects as it was a cheaper alternative to other software such as Logic Pro X and is a lot easier/a smaller file to download. I taught myself how the software works mainly through practice with the help of YouTube video tutorials, using these I was able to understand how the software worked whilst gaining a new and useful skill.

This is a screenshot of the software ‘Adobe Audition’, the screenshot shows a digital sound effect I have edited previously.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1yf-uNGt_AOF3FeVbCSvjfZaU4lD8erz2/view?usp=sharing

This is a link to my Google Drive with the edited sound available to listen to.

This is a screenshot of my Twitter account also showing the link to my Google Drive with the sound effect available to listen to.

How can I show this skill on my website?

This is a screenshot of my website I created also containing the link to my Google Drive sound effect. This helps me to keep all of my content consistent and have the same branding image.

ADOBE ANIMATE - I have a very strong understanding of the skill Adobe Animate, after having used it in pieces of coursework in both my first and second year of University. In first year as part of my ‘Introduction to Animation’ coursework and my ‘igraphics’ coursework and in second year as part of my ‘Form and Function’ coursework. For my Form and Function unit the brief was to create an advert for an augmented reality app - I used Adobe Animate and Adobe Premiere Pro to make this advert. Once the advert was made I also put sound into it. Although I did not create the sounds/music heard, I still had to find the best sounds suitable for the advert, place them accurately in sync with the frames and create a time length for each sound. Although Adobe Animate is not a sound based skill, I still think that a background of creating animations/films is very useful in the sound industry as they work well together. Especially as my industry sector is ‘Sound in the Film Industry’. Adobe Animate is a very time consuming skill, drawing out each key frame and animating all objects in the frame, followed by adding sound effects and music.

This is a screenshot of the software ‘Adobe Animate’, this screenshot shows the creating of my main character for my Form and Function advert. In this screenshot I was animating her to walk.

This is the completed animation of the girl walking converted into a GIF. Now I had the character walking I was able to put the character into Premiere Pro and edit it into the advert.

This is a screenshot of my Twitter account showing the animated walking GIF. I put it into my account to show other skills I am capable of.

How can I show this skill on my website?

This is a screenshot of my website I created with the GIF also on it. I put my GIF on the website as well to keep my branding and content consistent.

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jjkfire · 6 years ago

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taehyung x reader // fuckboy!taehyung // 2k words

You stare at the piece of paper before you. You’re so close. All you need is the middle tile and you would hit double bingo.

Wait, bingo? Why did you care for bingo?

See it wasn’t just any game of bingo. It was a special one. Each tile was a specific challenge, one you would have to complete and post on social media as proof. The challenges ranged from correcting your professor during lecture to kayaking to the middle of the enormous lake on campus to scaling the beloved statue right in the middle of the quad. Granted, you’ve picked the easier ones to complete but you think you’ve done pretty well so far. You’ve already managed to complete 8 of them. 4 straight across and 4 up. Almost forming a cross but you needed that middle tile, badly. Why? Well, this game of bingo boasted a prize of a semester’s supply of free burgers and fries. If that isn’t music to a broke college student’s ears, you’re not sure what is.

So, you’re one away from double bingo, only the middle tile standing in your way and maybe right now, you regret choosing this formation. Perhaps you should have gone for one of the rows or columns that didn’t have the middle tile… but, striking the middle tile meant you had to do one less challenge. Considering the fact that your professors are really beginning to pile on the coursework, you didn’t have the time to complete any more than one silly challenge. You groan about your predicament to Lisa, your closest friend who was this close to throwing you into the lake herself if you make her film anymore of your stupid videos for the bingo challenge.

“But that’s easy,” She laughs looking at the paper in your hand.

“Easy? It’s the middle tile for a reason,” You grumble.

Get 3000 likes on an original post that has some academic relevance.

Now how were you going to do that? It’s been weeks and you and well… the 10 other people who still bothered participating are still trying to nail that very tile. Considering that only 5 people follow you on Instagram, 3 of which are spam accounts… you don’t think you’ll be getting 3000 likes on anything, much less a post that was academically relevant.

“Just get a picture with Taehyung,” She hums. “He rakes in likes by the thousands.”

“It has to be academically related, you ninny,” You grumble, poking her in the forehead. “Taehyung and academics don’t really go hand in hand.”

See, Kim Taehyung is Beta Tau Sigma’s beloved fratboy. Loved, or rather lusted after by many, but also hated by many… usually, scorned women, of course. You’ve heard stories of him, many in fact, but they’re all the same. It’s always the same story about how they had a one-night stand with the handsome boy, how he oozed confidence, how he had them crawling back for more and of course, he obliges but it’s never really more than sex. The boy wears his fuckboy badge loud and proud and you guess you always found it quite ridiculous that the girls would come crying, bawling over the fact that he didn’t want to be exclusive. Of course he didn’t, you snort. It was practically written on his face. But you don’t understand, they would say. He was so sweet, he was so… different. But fuckboys are fuckboys, you smile. If you had a face like his, you’d probably do the same.

“Okay, but what’s the criteria? You just have to look like you’re doing homework or something, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s easy! I’ll get you your 3000 likes so I don’t have to follow you around campus and watch you make a fool out of yourself anymore.”

“Okay, but how? How does Taehyung fit into this? Just so you know, me roleplaying a schoolgirl while Taehyung smacks my ass doesn’t count as an academically relevant post.”

“That’s… actually better than what I had in mind but, you know that’s what Pornhub is for and unless you’re thinking of delving into amateur porn, I think we can skip that idea,” She laughs. “Just bring your notes with you to Beta Tau this Saturday and I’ll sort the rest of it out.”

“You’re not going to make me flash a tit in front of him are you? Because I absolutely won’t—”

“It’ll be PG, sort of… anyway, don’t worry,” She huffs. “Just, remember to be there, okay?”

You say yes and she reminds you a few more times during the week but as usual, when the day comes, you’re nowhere in sight. It’s only when your phone rings, the bass thumping in the background of Lisa’s call that you actually remember where you’re supposed to be.

“Please tell me you’re on your way here.”

“I… Yeah, I am,” You mumble, as you answer one of the last few questions on your online Chemistry quiz. “But look, I need to finish this quiz first because once I start it, there’s a time limit and—"

“You better get here in 20 because Taehyung is getting awfully antsy about being held back from his usual… activities.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” You yell as you attempt to change your outfit and answer the quiz questions, all at the same time.

There’s only 20 minutes left on the clock and you struggle to answer the quiz while you’re sat on the bus heading towards a frat house of all places. With one question left and only 8 minutes to go, you arrive at the front door of Beta Tau Sigma, pushing past the front door, ignoring the freshman that attempts to stop you from going in.

Lisa spots you instantly, dragging you towards the couch where Taehyung is seated. He looks absolutely annoyed, a deep set frown on his face with a solo cup in one hand and phone in the other. When you stand in front of him, he barely gives you the time of the day. He puts his phone away before he taps at his thigh, as if he was asking you to sit.

“Are you just going to stare at me all day or are we going to get this thing moving?”

“Sorry?” You question, unsure what he had meant by that and you turn to your friend for help. “Lisa, wait what are we—”

“Where are your notes, Y/N?” She asks before her gaze lands on the laptop in your hands. “Oh my god, you idiot. I meant like bring your physical notes not your online lecture slides,” She groans.

“Lisa, you said this would take 5 minutes,” Taehyung grumbles from behind you. “It’s been almost half an hour.”

“Okay, okay. 5 more minutes, I promise,” She sighs. “Anyway, quick introduction. Taehyung, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Taehyung. Okay, now sit on his lap.”

“I’m supposed to do what now?”

Lisa doesn’t even answer you, simply pushing you onto his lap before she snatches your phone from you. Taehyung lets out a soft groan of pain before his arms circle your middle to keep you from falling off.

“You want your 3000 likes, don’t you? Well, we’re gonna get them.”

You don’t even know what to say because first, you didn’t even know what the hell was going on. You look down at your screen and you almost let out a scream as the countdown timer shows 3 minutes left.

“Look, I just need to finish this quiz question real quick and then we can—”

“Neat, you’re already in character,” Lisa smiles as she begins recording. “Yeah, just focus on your laptop. Pretend you don’t care,” She directs, to which you nod to, albeit a little confused.

Her friends stand behind her with their phones out and their flash on to provide lighting Lisa says. It’s certainly a bizarre sight to say the least. You’re in the middle of a dimly lit living room, everyone around you already half past drunk and the soft bass thumping from the basement where the main party is happening does little to help you concentrate on your quiz.

“There’s no need to be nervous, babe,” Taehyung whispers and you assume it’s because you’re practically shaking in his lap but what he doesn’t know is that it had absolutely nothing to do with him but everything to do with the fact that you now only had 1 minute left and you can’t quite figure out the question.

You hear Lisa say something akin to alright, action! but you have no idea what she’s really talking about. It doesn’t take you too long to figure it out though because within seconds, Taehyung is pressing open mouth kisses from your collarbone to your neck, his tongue leaving behind a trail as he slowly works his way up. You gulp, when he nips at your skin and you shut your eyes in an attempt to focus on the question instead, softly mumbling to yourself but it’s a mistake because you hear him let out a low groan as he presses you down harder into his lap, his hips grinding upwards. It’s soft but Taehyung smirks because he swears he hears you stifle a moan. His hand pulls you closer to him, his thumb just under your bra and he grumbles because he finds all the layers between you and him… annoying. Lisa is practically laughing as panic flashes across your face, obviously enjoying this more than you, but seconds after, it’s like you have a lightbulb moment and you smile as you move your finger across your trackpad, selecting your choice before you hit submit.

You turn your screen towards the camera pointing at your score as you grin.

“Ten out of ten,” You beam, surprising Taehyung who pulls away with his eyebrows furrowed.

“What?” Lisa asks, confused. “What do you mea—”

“I only had 20 seconds left too!”

“Oh my god, was that a real quiz?” Lisa queries as she steps closer. “You dumbass! You should’ve just used a screenshot and faked it! I can’t believe you—”

“Well I was trying to tell you that I had an actual quiz to finish but you didn’t want to listen,” You frown and Lisa doesn’t even look at you, simply typing away at your phone.

“You know sometimes it feels like I’m the only one with functioning braincells in this friendship,” She sighs. “Anyway, you’re welcome. That’s going to be 3000 likes easy,” She hums as she hands you your phone.

“Really?” You question as you watch the video, the clip starting with just Taehyung’s lips on your neck, your head thrown back as you have your eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed but it gradually zooms out to show your laptop in your hands and finally, you pointing to your screen and Lisa midway scolding you before it cuts to black and repeats. It’s oddly a lot funnier than you expected… even if maybe that wasn’t quite what Lisa was going for originally.

“Just the thumbnail alone would probably get you 1000 likes,” She smirks, but the way her lips curl up has less to do with her statement and more to do with the way Taehyung seemed to be undressing you with his eyes.

“Nice. Here’s to hoping we get our free burgers,” You grin, shutting your laptop before you tuck it under your arm. You tap at Taehyung’s hand that’s still around your middle, holding you in place. It’s a silent gesture to ask him to let go but he only clicks his tongue at you.

“And where do you think you’re going?” He asks, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, his thumb smoothing out against the fabric of your crop top.

“Well, home, preferably,” You smile as you pull his hand away to stand up, hoping you look confident despite the way the low timbre of his voice had sent shivers down your spine.

“But what am I going to do with this?” He questions as he points to the tent in his pants. The boy was absolutely shameless.

“That seems more like a you problem and not a me problem.”

“But you caused it,” He frowns.

“From what? Sitting on your lap?” You question before you turn to Lisa. “So this is the fabled Kim Taehyung?”

“Fabled?” He asks. “Tell me, what do they say about me?” He smiles, hands resting at your waist, as if he was waiting for permission to pull you onto his lap again.

“I’m sure you know,” You sigh. “Though they neglected to mention that you’re the type that would come after just one stroke.”

Lisa lets out a low whistle, laughing silently at the way Taehyung’s jaw ticks. “I’d be careful if I were you, Y/N. This one doesn’t do too well with jokes.”

“I’m just playing,” You smile, patting the hand he had on your waist before you peeled it off. “I’m sure you’re everything they say you are,” You wink, taking a seat on the arm of the couch as Lisa hands you a drink.

“Why don’t you come find out for yourself?”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” You hum, sipping on your drink. “But there seems to be quite the line for that,” You laugh, using your cup to point towards a few of the many girls who were currently eyeing him up and down.

“Well, looks like you’re first in line to me though.”

You smile, loving the attention. The boy is smooth, you’ll give him that.

“Maybe next time,” You smile, before you lean down to whisper. “You’ll wait for me, won’t you?”

You don’t stay to hear his answer, sauntering off before he gets the chance to reply.

“Make sure to like the video, yeah?” You say, turning back just to flash him a grin and he simply answers with a thumbs up.

He smirks to himself as he watches you walk away, your hips swaying from side to side. Hmm, Taehyung wasn’t exactly a patient man… but, he’ll wait. In any case, you’re refreshing. It’s been a while since he’s had some fun.

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burnouts3s3 · 6 years ago

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Bully, a game review

(Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit unprofessional blog post written by an unprofessional blog poster. All purported facts and statement are little more than the subjective, biased opinion of said blog poster. In other words, don’t take anything I say too seriously.) Just the facts 'Cause you're in a Hurry! Manufacturer’s Suggested Retail Price (MSRP): 14.99 USD How much I paid: 36 USD (10 for the PS3 version and 15 for the Steam Version and 11 for the PS4 version while it was on sale). Rated: T for Teen How long I played: 10 Hours on PC while 2 hours on the PS4 version. Microtransactions: None! What I played on: PS3, PS4 and PC Performance Issues: Bully might be one of my favorite games and it might be one of the WORST PORTS EVER! Holy Shit! If the PS3 version isn’t bogged down with glacial framerates, it has pixelated graphics which are not done service on HD. (The PS3/PS4 versions are merely upscaled and have not been updated). The PS4 version runs much better with no crashes, but has been upscaled rather than remastered. The PC version, while looking better, constantly crashes and will inevitably result in lost progress as you must save manually at specific locations. And of course, that cursed plague returns, as Bully’s PC version is locked at 30 frames per second. My Personal Biases: Bully was one of my favorite games growing up during the PS2 era. So, I’ll probably be biased toward this game. CAVEAT: Bully comes in 2 versions: The original game and the Scholarship edition. The Scholarship edition contains all the content from the original game and adds features such as additional classes/mini-games, more outfits and extra story missions not found in the base game. I believe the anniversary edition is the same as the Scholarship edition only it’s released for mobile phones. (I could be wrong) Please be aware which version you’re getting. My Verdict: There’s no denying that Bully is at times juvenile, immature, naughty and that favorite word, problematic. But, if you can look past the surface, you can see, much like the protagonist Jimmy Hopkins, there’s much more underneath the surface. Buy it! Bully, a game review

youtube

"So here I am, at probably the worst school in the country, whose alumni are nothing but arms dealers, serial killers, and corporate lawyers. Real scum. And that old creep thinks he can tame me? We shall see, my friend. I only give people what they have coming to them." — Jimmy Hopkins I don’t know how I can describe Bully in a way that fascinates me and makes it so near and dear in my heart. I was never really a Grand Theft Auto fan. Even, when I was old enough to legally play the game, I always felt detached from the main characters. It wasn’t until GTA IV came out that I really fell in love with the story, only for GTA V to come out and make things go back the way they were. Bully was released during a controversial period in the United States. When Jack Thompson was legislating heavily against game developers and video games violence, Rockstar was releasing Bully, a kid version of Grand Theft Auto. Early footage shown at E3 showed the protagonist doing heinous crimes like giving other kids wedgies, putting a kid’s head in the toilet and defying authority. Parent groups were outraged and a debate occurred whether the game went too far. The end result? Probably one of my favorite games of all time. Jimmy Hopkins is a 15 year old delinquent being sent away by his cold-hearted, gold digging mother and her fifth husband. Jimmy, having been expelled from multiple schools faces his last chance at the boarding school of Bullworth Academy. After he’s dropped off, he soon meets Gary Smith, an intelligent student who might not have the best of intentions, and Pete Kowalski, a shy boy who can’t even make friends with the geeks. Jimmy plans to get the bullies off his back and rule the school by taking out the Bullworth Cliques, the nerds, the Preps, the Greasers and the Jocks. But as Jimmy helps his fellow students (and a dysfunctional staff member or two), he learns that Gary doesn’t have his best interests in mind. What’s interesting about Bully is that Jimmy, unless dictated by the player, isn’t usually inclined to cause harm. Rather, he attempts to get payback from the various cliques who do cross his paths. (There’s been a long standing rumor that says that Bully changed its story and premise after the reaction from E3, changing Jimmy from a villain protagonist to more of an anti-hero). A lot of the criticism the game received was how small the world was and how limited Jimmy’s actions are, compared to the ground breaking Grand Theft Auto 3. Jimmy won’t be able to steal cars or kill any NPC’s. Instead, he can commit petty crimes such as shooting people with his slingshot, tagging on walls or pranking people he comes across. The delinquency meter shows the various amounts of trouble Jimmy can get into. Should he commit minor crimes such as being out of uniform or ditching class, he’ll be in minor trouble. But, violence against students, disrespecting authority or trespassing into the girl’s dormitory will send the local authorities (Prefects and teachers while in school, police officers out of school) after him. If Jimmy gets caught, he’ll be sent to the Principal’s office. Detention consists of mini-games such as using the school mower to mow lawns. But, there’s a benefit to attending class. Should you go to class, you’ll be treated to a mini-game. Completing a course will earn you benefits in the outside game world. For example, passing chemistry class allows you to make have a chem set in your room where you can create ‘weapons’ such as firecrackers, while going to English Class helps you apologize to authority figures for committing various crimes. My favorite is Art Class, where in the bonus is being able to get an extra bar of health when kissing girls. Should Jimmy complete all of his coursework (that is to say, finish all 5 difficulty levels of the mini-games), he’ll be excused from class be given free time. But it’s not all schoolwork and Frenching cheerleaders. There’s a variety of mini-games in the world such as Boxing, bike races, Carnival Games and of course, a huge number of collectables found throughout the game. If Jimmy’s strapped for cash, he can always take up a paper route. The strangest thing about Bully is that it’s a very small game. Even games like Grand Theft Auto III had a variety of environments and locations to explore with its small size. But Bullworth Acadmey and the town of Bullworth are small to explore. It creates a sense of intimacy. I can’t get lost in the world of Bullworth but I can become so intimate that the NPCs become familiar to me. That’s something special a lot of games don’t do. I’d rather have the familiarity of Bully over the vastness and at times emptiness of the Grand Theft Auto games, especially the modern ones. I should mention that the composer for the game, Shawn Lee, gave some of the most memorable music I’ve heard this side of some of the best soundtracks. Where Grand Theft Auto had licensed songs from various artists, Bully only has an original soundtrack, but it’s so alive and varied that I caught myself listening to it again and again.

youtube

Tying it all together is Gerry Rosenthal as Jimmy. While it’s great to hear familiar voice actors, such as Martin Mull as the Headmaster, Rosenthal’s performance just manages to combine that weird teenage angst that makes the main character so relatable. Kudos to him. What really sold me was the story. I surprisingly found myself relating to Jimmy’s struggle to get through his school days and how he acts and reacts to the world around him. While Jimmy is no saint or perfect student, it does show that the world Jimmy inhabits is a flawed, corrupt and outright dirty society. All the cliques that Jimmy faces, whether it’d be the classist preppies, the posturing Greasers or the testosterone-filled Jocks, are shown to be bullies but in different ways. Meanwhile most of the adults and authority figures are two faced hypocrites. When Jimmy sees his gym teacher trying to sneak dirty magazines out of a pornography store, it becomes apparent why Jimmy doesn’t have any respect for authority. At the same time, I found certain NPCs not only memorable but also rather likable. There’s something about Jimmy helping out the strange homeless man in the Junkyard or spitting food with Edna, the lunch lady, that brings a smile to my face. So while the game holds up in terms of mechanic and I still find the characters and story charming, it pains me to say this has some of the worst ports to date. The PC version constantly crashes. I don’t know who was responsible for it, but given the number of crashes I experienced (as well as the frustration having to save your progress manually), I nearly broke my screen in frustration. Worse yet, Bully is locked at 30 Frames Per Second. The PS4 remastered version is more playable, but only features the vanilla version of the game. Closing thoughts: There’s a lot to say about bullying, the role of bullies and how our society now views bullies. And while I can’t comment on Jimmy’s reactions to the various groups of the schools will look like 50 years from now, I will say I had a blast firing my slingshot, riding my bike and getting into as much trouble with Jimmy Hopkins. It’s not what a game is about, it’s how it’s about it. Verdict: As long as you don’t get the PC Version, go buy it!

#bully #rockstar #jimmy hopkins #gta #grand theft auto #game reviews #v #/v/#vidya #video games #gaming #gamers #review

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nightblogofficialbook · 6 years ago

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Chapter Three

Also available on the Tapas.io Website, search for Night in the Novels tab!

I don’t know when it was I fell asleep but I must have slept for an entire day because it was already morning again. I turned over, my body feeling heavy but not terrible and my mouth dry and sticky. When I opened my eyes, for a moment I didn’t know where I was. This wasn’t my room. This was too big to be my room. None of my things are here either, and mom would have definitely woken me up before this point.

And then my memory returned, much to my severe disappointment.

I sat up, my hair feeling like a nest on my head, and stretched. That strange tugging sensation made itself known and then grew idle. I sat on the bed for a long while, trying to muster the energy to get up. It was then I noticed a piece of paper sitting in front of my door, having been slid under while I slept probably.

The curiosity worked and I got up to get it, remembering that Rose and Co. still wanted to show me around. I unfolded it.

‘Hey Helen! It’s Rose. I figured you were probably still asleep so we didn’t want to bother you. But I wanted to explain to you briefly how this place works on a day-to-day basis, in case we’re not on break when you wake up. During the weekdays we have a course schedule, and yes, just like school :P Since you’ve never experienced any of this before they want us to have you kinda shadow us for all the classes so you can get some experience, and then when it’s all said and done you’ll be able to pick your own schedule. On the other side of this fold will be all of our schedule and times, and a map if you feel like trying to find us. If not, break periods for us are listed too, so you can just wait in the commons until one of us comes to check on you.’

I blinked. ...Class? Like, school classes? I turned the page over like the note said. A chart was drawn really neatly and concise of each girl’s name and their classes, in order by time. I glanced over at the digital clock on the bedside table. Looks like no one will be back until fifteen minutes from now.

Still feeling...off guard, I got up and went to the bathroom to address the state of my hair. I’ve always been kind of a sleep tosser but I guess last night I really thrashed about. Using the tools already in my bathroom I carefully combed the tangles out of my hair and flattened the morning frizz with a straight iron. The kitty cat pajama tank had my shoulder on full display in the mirror, and for the first time in...I guess only a day, it felt like ages, I was able to see to what extend the damage was.

The bite on my neck was all but gone, only a lingering redness now remained from where that guy, Zain, had bit me. I was amazed at how quickly it was healed, especially for how much I bled.

Ugh, blood.

The brief nausea passed, and I examined the next mark: a now-silver welted crescent scar that sat right between my collarbone and shoulder. I traced it for a moment in shock and a little bit of morbid fascination. It still throbbed a bit, but significantly less. This...was the bite that started this. The one that changed my life. I wonder why it was a crescent and not fang marks, like the other had been? It looked more like someone with human teeth had bit me. I looked closer at it, the shape showing irregularities to it. About where the canines would be on a human bite mark, defined a little more than the rest of the shape, were almost definitely two fang-mark scars set within the rest of the scar.

I shuddered. To bite down with a force that strong...I’m really glad I passed out for that. Maybe that was why I passed out.

After changing into some relaxed day clothes that were available to me I went downstairs to the commons, feeling like I’m on some sort of rich-kid summer camp trip. It was quiet but brightly lit from the sunlight pouring through narrow windows down the rounded walls, the outside just starting to reach the afternoon. Feeling awkward I made my way to the kitchenette area and perused through the cabinets and fridge, looking for something to eat. I opted for snacking on some cheese and saltine crackers, since the rest looked like they belonged to someone or required cooking of some kind, and I didn’t feel comfortable doing that just yet.

The door clicked and in walked Claire, who gave a start of pleasant surprise when she spotted me. “Helen! You’re awake!” She closed the door behind her, smiling. “Good morning! You were out a while, you sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I actually felt pretty rested when I woke up, thanks for letting me sleep.”

“Yeah, cool.” She set her bag down and grabbed the box of goldfish cheese crackers I had passed over from the cabinet. “You get Rose’s letter by chance?”

I nodded. “If I understand right, I’ll be attending classes with you guys?”

“Yeah, it’ll just be for a couple of weeks to help you get used to being in the castle, then you’ll be able to decide what you want to do on your own. Cool thing is, nothing is mandatory.” She grinned, sitting down with the box. “You could just decide you don’t want to go to any of them in the end and chill all day.”

“Wha-really? Then why even bother?”

“Well, a lot of it is still really useful to learn, but mostly because of the perk points.”

“Perk points?”

She nodded, taking a handful of crackers and munching them. “Yeah, you get points based on attendance for class and bonus points for how well you do in them. Vampires get them too. They have a catalog for stuff you get in exchange for them, like new clothes or toys or games or extra snacks.” She shook the box of goldfish. “I like to spend mine on these, though I’m saving up the bulk of them for the excursion trip next spring. We’ll take you to go get your card set up and stuff and you’ll be able to look at the point system, but essentially the more valuable or the less ‘healthy,’” she used air quotes with an eye roll, “an item is, the more points it will cost. And vice versa, the more challenging a class is for you, the more points you get for it.”

“That actually sounds really cool,” I said, amazed.

“I know right? From what I hear about how schools are still done on the outside it’s WAY more awesome.” She glanced at her watch. “Alright, we should probably go head out to my next class, after that all of us have the same dancing class so we’ll trade you off after THAT class, and you’ll have just one more for the day with us.”

My head spun a little, not quite following what she said but I got the jist of it. She grabbed her bag and I followed her through the door into the open hallway of the castle. A fresh breeze drifted from the direction Claire was leading me, and almost as suddenly as we had left the dorm we were outside in open air.

The weather felt wonderful, the deep blue sky spotted with slowly drifting, fluffy clouds, blinking the sunlight in and out every now and then. The temperature was warm and comfortable, not at all like the summer heat it had been for the last month. And there were people. Everywhere. Mostly teens my age, but also adults. Children. I think I even saw a few babies. I was amazed, I never realized how big this place might be. It was like a whole village.

I watched the people pass me by as I followed Claire across the giant square courtyard I had observed just yesterday. Some were having a picnic complete with tablecloth, food, and family. Some were, like us, walking towards a destination in mind, and some were just playing games. It was how I always imagined a college campus would look like, all it was missing was the drunk frat boys and dumb shenanigans.

A wonder crossed my mind after we crossed the courtyard and into a different section of the castle. “Where are the vampires?” I asked.

“They’re asleep, they usually keep to a night habit like the myths used to say. But not all of them,” she added as a young guy with red eyes waved as he passed us, flashing a friendly-fanged smile. Claire waved back with a “hey Greg.”

“But for the most part they do vampire classes at night anyway,” she continued as we stepped into a classroom. “And usually in the other half of the castle. It helps keep traffic in the halls down so things don’t ever get overcrowded and stressful, and to keep some from getting too stressed out by the abundance of human smells.”

We sat down at desks and I was surprised about how...normal it was. It was just a math class, same as the one I failed a few days ago, only this teacher seemed pretty enthused. She talked over the coursework with passion, answering any questions that were asked and even re-explained some things in an easier to digest manner. I found I was able to follow along really well despite having to jump in the middle of a learning section.

Claire, on the other hand, looked like she was struggling to keep up, and hard. She was bent over her practice worksheet, looking relaxed but frustrated. I thought about asking her why she was taking the class if it was that hard on her, but then remembered how she explained the points, and her goal. I silently nodded to myself at the ingenious system they have here. It was a good way to motivate everyone to have a goal, and work towards it, but without forcing anyone to overstress about it.

And hour and a half had come and gone since we sat down, and class was dismissed. Claire stretched and groaned as we walked out.

“Man, I am so not good at math,” she said.

“Me neither, but that teacher was really good.”

“I know right? They don’t let anyone teach if they’re not up for the task. Anyway, I forgot about lunch between now and the next class, and…” she suddenly looked as if she was having an epiphany. “Oh yeah lunch! Dude!” She grabbed my shoulders excitedly. “You gotta see the food court they have here!”

My eyes widened and her excitement rubbed off. “They have a food court?”

…

They have a food court.

And it was incredible.

IMMEDIATELY, once I walked to the vicinity of its existence, I was hit by a myriad of delicious freshly cooked food smells. I’m talking bakeries, skillet cooks, sandwich bars, BBQ, breakfast food, lunch, italian, asian, and everything in between. I could hardly believe my eyes. I could hardly believe my nose. It was like there was a food festival going on.

Claire grinned at my expression. “Pretty cool, huh?” she nudged me.

“Claire…” I said, flabbergasted still. “Oh my god. I want to cry.” She laughed and took my hand, taking me to all of the booths and mini restaurant bars. Each one seemed to know her on a personal level, and, as she explained that I was new, free sample after free sample began to fill my tray.

“This is so much food,” I said in amazement.

“Yeah, I’ll be honest, I’m kinda pimping you out,” she admitted sheepishly as we headed for a table. “Normally you’re only allowed up to 2 free servings per mealtime, and any more is a point exchange.”

“Well, it worked,” I said, still incredulous. “Glad to be of help.”

“Helen! Claire! Over here!”

Rose was flagging us down; the twins and Wendy were already seated with her, in addition to a few people I haven’t met yet. We joined them at the table.

“Helen, this is Mike and this is Jason, they’re childhood friends of ours. Guys, this is Helen.”

Mike, who had short black hair and a shallow jawline and fair skin, gave a polite wave. Jason, who was far less reserved with bronzy-blonde hair, brown eyes, and a fairly strong jaw and nose, gave me a friendly lopsided smile and a look of interest.

“Um, hi,” I said nervously, sitting down next to Claire with my huge tray of food.

“Introductions later, it’s food time,” Claire said, excitedly picking out a sample from our haul.

I tasted as much as the food as I could, and shared the rest. Everyone chatted about their day so far and classes they were in and I politely listened, feeling a little happy. No, that’s not right. I was feeling a lot of happy. Everything was bright, and light, and friendly. Everyone was open and relaxed and feeling good. The tension I had been holding in my shoulders released.

And then suddenly something hot and soupy was dumped over the top of my head and into my lap. Claire leapt out of the way to avoid the splash, everyone else jumped in shock. I sat still, trying to process why there was suddenly chicken broth all over me.

“Oops,” spoke girl’s bored voice. Everyone’s eyes widened when they saw who stood behind me. I turned around.

She stood to be roughly my height with dark blonde hair pulled back in a bun, her blue eyes piercing cold and her expression haughty. She very clearly was holding an empty bowl, still over my head. I blinked.

“Sorry,” she said in the most uncaring manner possible. “Sometimes I don’t quite pay attention to where I’m going and things just…” Her eyes grew cold and vicious, reminding very much of Zain’s, and with a jolt I recognized her. “...happen, you see. But, I’m sure YOU, of all people, would understand, wouldn’t you Helen?”

“Hey, look, I-”

“Well,” she interrupted, ignoring me and addressing the entourage of people who were snickering behind her. “I supposed I should try to get more soup. I do hope they understand the little accident.”

“Oh, of course, Lady Victoria!”

“It was an accident after all.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“You can have mine, M’lady, if they can’t make an exception!”

“Thanks, guys,” she cooed to her little group as they left. “You’re the best.”

I sat there, dumbfounded, as they walked away, and turned back forward.

“...what just happened to me?”

“You got souped apparently,” Claire chimed, to which Rose reprimanded her.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help you get cleaned up, we can skip the next class if we need to,” Rose offered. I shook my head.

“It’s okay, I’ll just go get cleaned up and meet you guys there,” I said, my voice surprisingly normal considering I was drenched.

Claire looked at me in surprise. “You sure?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I have a map, and I’m surprisingly good with directions.” Except apparently when I’m in a hurry, I thought blandly to myself.

“If you’re certain…” Rose said, uncertain. “The next class is on the same floor, in the east ward across from this one. There’s four doors to enter from so it shouldn’t be hard to find as long as you make it to the right section.”

I thanked her and stood up, saying bye to Mark and Jason. They offered words of encouragement and good luck with cleaning up. Pulling out the map(which miraculously avoided getting souped as well) and going by what I remembered seeing on the way here I traced my way back to the dorms. Everyone I passed stared and muttered to themselves, some with pity, some with wonder. I couldn’t blame them for it, since I’d probably end up doing the same thing, and did my best to ignore it.

After a successful shower and change of clothes, it was now four o’clock, about fifteen minutes past when that class was supposed to start. I made my way across the courtyard to the ward across from the lunch area, now wishing I had eaten maybe just a little bit more and debating on whether I should even show up. The sun was in the second half of the sky, and by now majority of everyone out and about had gone back to wherever their own dorms were. It was crazy how many people actually live here.

I found the four doors Rose was talking about and heard music inside. Confused, I looked at the written schedule she had given. “No…” I opened the door, suddenly remembering with dread a small detail Claire had mentioned before.

Inside was a very large convention-style room, chairs stacked high against the wall. A large amount of people were scattered out in pairs, observing the teacher as he demonstrated what almost looked like a waltz with no partner.

Dancing. Great, just great...my stomach dropped, and as it did the subtle pulling sensation heightened.

The door slammed shut behind me before I could catch it and suddenly all eyes were on me. I flinched, feeling extremely embarrassed. “Sorry…”

“Not at all!” the teacher enthused. “Come in, come in! You must be Miss Morris.”

I sheepishly made my way to the edge of the wall out of the way but still in view, suddenly very aware of the fact that about 50% of the pairs of eyes still on me were red. I swallowed nervously.

“Alright, now I want everyone to try, on my count. Remember, you’re not looking for speed, you’re looking for precision. Make every move count until it becomes second nature. Now, one-two-three, one-two-three…” he flicked a finger in the air and suddenly music was playing.

I watched everyone try the steps, spotting the girls pretty quickly as they were having the most fun. Rose was paired up with Jason from before, Suzanne and Alice had decided to dance with each other -which made their synchronization so perfect it was almost creepy- and Claire was dancing with Wendy. Feet were stepped on, laughter was heard, partners were bumped into, it was an amusing scene. I smiled a little to myself, wishing I could join them.

I let my gaze wander around as the teacher also wandered amongst the dancers, giving form advice and praise as he passed them. I was amazed at how many vampires were here, considering it wasn’t really after dark just yet. Most were paired up with their own kind, but some had paired up with humans, a little to my surprise. And it looked like everyone was having fun.

“Hello Helen,” the teacher’s voice drew my attention to him; he had made his way over to where I stood, quietly addressing me. “May I call you that?” he asked sincerely.

“Sure?” I replied. He was pretty young looking for someone in charge of teaching a class, I would guess maybe super early twenties. His eyes were a deep hazel that seemed to change colors under different light angles, from blue to green to brown, and somehow all of the colors. His skin was fair and soft, his hair a short sandy brown that reminded me of some popular british actor I remember people fawning over. He was pretty attractive for sure, but something was strangely familiar about him.

“Excellent.” He looked relieved. “Allow me to introduce myself; my name is Dmitri. Some of my students call me ‘D’ but whether that be your preference to refer to me is entirely up to you.”

“Thanks, it’s nice to meet you.”

“And likewise you. Now, I understand that you are quite new to the castle, and that today is your first day during your adjustment period, so by all means don’t feel obligated to join right away if you don’t feel comfortable. We have a bit of an odd number currently so there would be no problems if you wish to sit out for now. But, if you do wish to join in, I would have no problems getting you up to speed.”

“U-um, thanks,” I replied, grateful for the extended invitation and surprised at how quickly he seemed to understand. “I think I’ll pass this time around...since there’s an odd number and all.”

He chuckled a little. “Not too fond of dancing?”

I grimaced. “How did you know?”

“I have been teaching dance for quite a while now, I can tell. I imagine you feel your skills are quite inadequate to even attempt the practice.”

“That’s an understatement,” I joked, feeling strangely relaxed around him. “My mom tried to get me into dancing for a while. I accidently broke the instructors foot once.” He laughed softly and I smiled a little. “She politely requested that I try out other hobbies after that.”

He looked outward, observing the dancing pairs in front of us. “Well, I won’t force you if you truly don’t want to dance, but if you ever feel interested, I would gladly be up for the challenge.”

He went back out to address a couple that had fallen over, helping them to their feet and explaining to them what had gone wrong. I smiled a little, feeling a little fuzzy inside, like I just gained a big brother. Dmitri seemed really sweet. The pessimism in my brain made me really hope he didn’t turn out to just have been flirting with an underage girl though. It didn’t seem that way, but...I’ve been wrong about people before.

Suddenly there was a strangely violent tug in the pit of my gut towards a single direction in the room. I looked up in surprise, holding my sides despite the fact that there really wasn’t an obvious origin to this sensation, and stiffened. One couple was dancing through the sea of everyone like wind through trees, effortlessly making every single person in this room look like stumbling baby deer. Their legs moved with practiced elegance, as easy as if it were breathing, their eyes almost bored and in another world. Zain and Victoria.

My stomach clenched with guilt and a twinge of jealousy. They looked good together. Perfect for eachother, I thought bitterly, remembering Zain’s childish aggression and Victoria’s stunt from today. Their skills looked matched, and though they seemed bored in this classroom environment, they looked relaxed. Comfortable.

Zain’s eyes darted my way and I looked down instinctively, my heart pounding for a moment, and then felt bitterness replace my emotions. It should have been her. I shouldn’t have ever been involved. Why did I end up at that clearing? Why did he have to bite me?

I heard a quiet tch! and looked up with just my eyes. The two had slowed to a stop, Zain’s face furrowed in frustration.

“What is it?” I heard Victoria ask, worried.

“It’s nothing,” he responded in a low voice.

Her eyes darted to me and I pretended to be watching the other people.

“Is it her?”

He gave her a small smile and stroked her cheek; a sharp pang hit my chest for a moment. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

She still looked worried. “Okay.” Her eyes narrowed furiously towards me soon as he looked elsewhere. I pretended not to have noticed but I could feel the daggers emanating from her.

“Alright, I think that’ll wrap things up today!” Dmitri called out, clapping his hands. The music fades out and everyone gathered up any bags and things they had brought. He waved his hands and suddenly all of the chairs stacked against the walls unstacked and arranged themselves in the space everyone was just occupying. “Next class we’ll do a few more practice motions, and then try out partner changes. I look forward to seeing you all again.”

“Helen!”

The girls and Jason came over to me excitedly. The fact that I just saw legit magic fell to the back of my mind as I smiled a little at them.

“You made it!” Rose exclaimed. “We saw you talking to Dmitri, what did you think?”

“Dancing...really isn’t my thing,” I admitted carefully. “I’ve never been very good with the whole foot-body coordination thing.”

“She actually meant about D,” Claire snickered.

“I was talking about the class too,” Rose blushed slightly.

I thought for a moment. “He seems...pretty nice I guess. I mean, I just met him, at least I’ve gotten to know you guys for a bit.”

“Yeah, D is pretty chill,” Jason commented as we walked out of the room. I felt that elastic cord-feeling tug at me again and glanced back a moment, distracted by seeing Zain and Dmitri talking. Victoria wasn’t anywhere, I guess she had already left. The sight of the two felt vaguely familiar again, though.

“And take it from me,” Claire continue to speak, and I realized I had missed part of the conversation. “Dmitri is a SUPER good guy. He’s actually the one I told you about that saved me from my stupid aunt and uncle.”

“Wait what?” I asked, confused. “I thought you said that it was a vampire who took you.”

“Yeah, that was Dmitri,” she said. “It was his first time travelling with the embassy he said, I think.”

I looked back, but we had already gone out of sight, and then tried to collect my thoughts. “But...he...his eyes were…?”

“Ohhhhh right right right, I forgot about that,” Claire clapped in realization. “Yeah, vampires don’t ACTUALLY have red eyes, they just turn that color when they’re stressed out. Something something biology makes them turn red but they actually have fairly normal eye colors, for the most part.”

“It has to do with the way cortisol affects their system,” Alice spoke up. “They’re pretty human-based to begin with, so there's a lot of similarities, but there’s a chemical in their irises that causes it to glow red with the presence of stress hormones.”

“It used to be because they were always stressed when hungry,” Claire added. “That’s why it’s a pretty common addition to the myth. Also pretty scary.”

“But now it’s just because they have anxiety like the rest of us,” Suzanne finished.

“But...everyone’s eyes are red?”

“Well yeah, duh,” Claire smirked amusedly. “The heir and leader of their home was supposed to be bonded with a chosen Bride to solidify their strengths and safety, but something happened and word has spread that some rando is now the Bride.”

“They feel their future is uncertain,” Rose explained gently. “Humans, too. No one knows anything about you or what benefit or detriment you might bring.”

Jason stopped. “Hold on, wait…” He stared at me, his expression stiff. “You’re the…?”

“Oh shoot,” Rose swore. “I didn’t want to say anything yet, I’m sorry Jason.”

“It’s okay, I just…” he shook his head. “Damn…”

“U-um,” I started awkwardly. “Is that bad?”

“No, I just didn’t want it to be spread around just yet,” Rose admitted sheepishly. “I wanted to make sure you were comfortable first. I figured it would be awkward for you if everyone suddenly tried to avoid you and address you as ‘Lady’ and ‘ma’am’ and so on.”

“Do you...want to be addressed that way?” Jason asked nervously.

“Oh, god no,” I assured him quickly, and remembered Dmitri asking if my name was okay. “Please, Helen is just fine.”

He relaxed, relieved. “Lady Victoria all but demands everyone refer to her as Lady Victoria.”

“I’m definitely not doing that,” I grumbled. “Not after what she did today. I mean, I understand where’s she coming from but…”

They glanced at each other with worry, and I could tell they had something to say but didn’t want to say it.

I sighed. “Anyway, about Dmitri and the vampire eye thing.”

“Right,” Claire shuffled. “Um, that was probably it, honestly. Vampire’s look like people except when they’re stressed.”

“And they’re all scared of me,” I joked a little. They laughed a bit.

“Give it a few weeks,” Rose assured. “Everyone will have calmed down again. Your arrival shouldn’t effect Lord Zain’s ability to run the castle.”

“That reminds me,” I said, “how does age work for vampires? He looks like he’s our age. And Dmitri looked pretty young, too.”

“They’re about how they appear to be,” Rose explained. “Lord Zain is seventeen I think, Dmitri is...twenty-five?” My eyebrows lifted. “The ones who are born will age the same way humans do, just a little bit slower.”

“They stop aging when they reach about Dmitri’s age,” Alice chimed “At that point the body just doesn’t need to grow anymore.”

“And then they live foreeeeeever,” Claire added dramatically.

“Except the ones who are made,” Suzanne said sadly. “They’re stuck at whatever age they turned. Their bodies freeze in time, but their mind will continue to deteriorate.”

I swallowed. “So then...are most vampires born?”

“Mostly. Accidents can...happen though,” Rose admitted.

“That’s why they don’t let vampires do any biting,” Claire said. “The ones that turn usually have this weird desire to create more vampires, which would be a problem, and you have to basically drink vampire blood and die in order to turn, so keeping them away during feeding times prevents that.”

“Will...will I ever be turned?”

“Bride are a little different,” Rose responded this time. “You’d have to want to turn in order for it to work, because of the mutual agreement the bond creates between human and vampire, otherwise you’d probably just...die. And you’d be different than a turned vampire, because your partner would still be able to feed from you.”

“It’s not really a necessary procedure,” Alice added, “so I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.”

My head spun. This was a lot of information to process. “Wait, one more question, if vampires live forever, what about the human Brides?”

“You’ll live forever too,” Alice answered simply. “It would be bad if their only food source died of old age. It’s part of the changes that now allow you to choose to become a vampire if you wanted it.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda like you’re half vampire!” Claire joked, and my chest tightened. Half vampire...I put my hand on my shoulder again where the bite mark still twinged every now and then.

Everyone split up at the edge of the center courtyard, Claire and twins heading back to the dorm, Jason heading back to his, and Rose going to her class. I was scheduled to follow Wendy next.

“This way,” she spoke, her voice soft and quiet like a whisper.

I followed, feeling awkward as I realized that this was probably the first time I’ve heard her speak. She was extremely reserved and somewhat nervous, every so often fidgeting with her fingers and not looking up anywhere. I wasn’t sure if it was because of me or if she was just...like that. I sympathized though. Up till now it was easy to borrow off of everyone’s energies to relax and adjust. The presence of her anxiety, though, kind of kept mine at bay.

“So, we’re going to...whoa, Horse Care and Management, whaaat?” I tried to give a friendly smile. “There are horses here??”

She nodded. “Yeah. They’re very gentle creatures, and understanding. I like them.”

I stared off in the distance with a small grin as we walked down an open stone hallway and away from the castle, feeling just a little excited now all on my own. I had never been on a horse, or near one for that matter. Wendy’s cheeks swelled as she smiled, and it seemed like she relaxed a little more. The stables came into view as we rounded the corner and the stone floors turned into a dirt path. The smell of fresh barnhouse and hay wafted through the air, growing bolder as we got closer.

Not many people showed up for this class, it seemed. In fact, as far as I could tell at least, it was mostly vampires here. A girl no older than us was currently setting out harnesses and saddles, wearing heavy duty working gloves and clothing, with a red bandana around her neck and a wide straw sun hat. She greeted us when we approached, then beamed at Wendy.

“Hey! Good afternoon, glad ya guys can make it!” She gave a wide grin. “Looks like some newcomers today, Welcome! I’m Amber, I’m kinda second-in-command runnin’ the stables here with my ma and her sisters, I’ll be teaching ya guys all about horses!”

“Last week I got most of ya introduced to the residents here, so today we’re gonna learn the proper ways to clean the equipment. It’s easy enough, but ya gotta do it right or the leather will get too hard, or just not clean at all. And if you don’t clean it well, ‘specially the reins and the bit, you can get the horses sick and we don’ want that.” She went through the proper techniques for getting started and had everyone start a piece of equipment. “Newbies follow me for a sec,” she called out, and to my surprise I wasn’t the only new person.

“Hey,” a young vampire guy, eyes still red, greeted me shyly after we followed Amber and then were told to wait. “You new to this class too?”

“Uh, yeah,” I responded, feeling just a tad awkward.

He smiled forward nervously as we waited for Amber to come back, running a hand across the back of his neck. He looked a bit older than me, his skin dark and his body pretty lanky and tall. Like, a whole-head-taller-than-me tall.

“I’ve never even been around one of these things before,” he admitted after a few seconds of silence.

“Me neither,” I said, deciding to try and make small talk at least. “I’ve always wanted to though, they looked pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, and then stuck his hand out. “I’m Adrian, by the way.”

“Helen,” I replied automatically, shaking his hand.

“Helen huh,” he laughed nervously. “That funny, I think that’s the same name as that girl from outside the castle.

“Yeah,” I responded nervously, unsure whether to say anything about that. “Pretty...pretty interesting.”

Luckily Amber had already come back, leading a tall chestnut color horse. It had a white kite shape mark that spanned from it’s forehead down to its nose.

“This is Bitey,” Rose said, and Adrian stiffened next to me. “Don’t let the name fool ya, he used to be chomper when he was little but he’s quite behaved now. C’mon over and say hello!”

We both hesitated for just a moment, and then I stepped forward, feeling a little excited. The horse’s ears swiveled my way as I came up to it from the side, and he turned his head towards me.

“Hold yer hand out, fingers down,” Rose instructed gently. Behind me Adrian watched carefully as I did as told. The horse balked back a little, and then stretched out to sniff my hand. After a few seconds I reached forward to pet its muzzle. Adrian let out a breath of relief behind me.

“Now, horses are very sensitive animals, they can pick up on yer feelings pretty quick,” she said as Adrian worked up enough courage to come up beside me to also pet the horse. “They can be pretty skittish themselves, so it’s very important that ya introduce yourself properly.”

She had us step away after a moment of petting to demonstrate. “Ya always want to try and approach from a diagonal and make sure they can see ya. Cuz if ya watch him,” she stood at a severe angle from the back, “see his ears? They’re swiveled back cuz he knows I’m back here but he can’t see me. And if walk closer now,” she did, and he stepped away from her. “he’ll back up. It’s pretty nerve-wracking to have someone come up from where you don’t see em. That’s why it’s also a good idea to make sure you talk to em too. That way they can hear you and you don’t sneak up on em. NEVER sneak up on a horse unless you wanna get kicked in the teeth.”

Amber continued to explain how to approach and be around horses, how to present yourself, what to do if a horse charges at you, and had us practice approaching conduct correctly with Bitey. The whole time Adrian was very nervous, which I found just a little funny, all things considered; he could probably and easily take this animal down. It was a little alarming even. But then again...I hadn’t actually seen any proof that vampires have super strength or anything, I’ve just sort of assumed. A small spark of guilt set in my chest as I realized that...they really might be just like humans. Just people with different survival needs.

After a bit more practice she then had us rejoin the rest of the class to learn how to clean the tack, giving us the bit and saddle that Bitey had on. I went back to Wendy, who smiled at me and looked very relaxed and content. She was already drying off her piece of tack and had a couple bottles of some sort of leather oil.

The last half of the class was spent learning how to properly dry and oil the leather to help preserve its reliability, and just as the sun began to set everything was wrapped up and put away. I walked back with Wendy feeling strangely accomplished.

“That was...really cool!” I exclaimed with elation. Wendy nodded, smiling happily and quietly. “Like, never did I ever even think I would get to do something like that, not without paying a LOT of money.”

“It’s my favorite class,” she smiled quietly. “The horses really understand.”

I nodded, and remembered the vampire I had pet Bitey with, Adrian, and remembered how nervous he seemed but also how friendly. The horse wasn’t afraid of him, and prey animals are usually good at sensing predators. I thought about Dmitri, who I had no idea was a vampire, who wanted to make sure I felt comfortable with where I was. I thought about everyone I had met today, unable to help but compare it to how my life was before and how the people I had to deal with before. Against my inner denial about this whole situation, this...didn’t seem so bad so far. This actually felt...better.

We made it back to the dorms uninterrupted and I told everyone I was going to go ahead and turn in for the night, feeling exhausted. The gibbous moon had risen high enough already to cast some light in my darkened room, but I turned on a lamp anyway. The ambient lighting combined felt cozy and warm, but my room still felt too big, too open. Absentmindedly I walked to the window and opened it, then realized it had a balcony and climbed out onto it.

The night was pleasantly crisp for summertime. The sky was clear and bright as the moon’s light was cast down upon the world. Out ahead of me lay a sea of trees, and just beyond that were islands of houses. Neighborhoods. If I stared hard enough, I could almost spot the neighborhood I live in. Lived in. I breathed in and let out a sigh as I leaned against the railing, my mind debating with itself.

I shouldn’t be here. I should be at home. I should be helping mom get dinner ready, calling Emily to help her with homework. Sleeping in our run-down cozy house. Dealing with the same idiots entering the same society as me. I’m already starting to forget I’ve been kidnapped; this sense of open freedom is wrong, it’s a lie.

I looked down. It was only two, maybe three stories between here and the ground, and maybe only fifty meters between the castle and the surrounding wall. I could sneak away. I could do the bedsheet thing, anchor to the railing and then try to latch it to the decorations that topped the wall. I could go home, and try to ignore everything, pretend it was all just a bad dream.

Something lurched in my center, violently yanking at some core within me in an up-and-backwards direction. It was almost painful except for the fact that it didn’t feel real, didn’t feel tangible. I grabbed the railing to brace and support myself, my lips pressed tight in bitterness. That sensation continued to pull at me, almost like it was begging me to follow it. To follow it back to the one who bit me.

There would be no escaping that. There’s no undoing it, it would always be there. Following me, everywhere I go, no matter how far I would go. And he could probably follow it back to me. They’d find me, maybe even hurt my mom, maybe even go after Emily, and they would bring me back.

I sunk to my knees on the balcony, leaning my forehead against the railing as tears slowly filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I had fun today. Today hadn’t been bad at all. Sure, I got soup dumped on me, but that was just one incident. Everyone was nice. I wasn’t caged, I wasn’t supervised. I was even allowed to make my way back to the dorms, all on my own. It was only the second day since I arrived. I could have gone somewhere else entirely. But I didn’t. Because being here today has been better than any other day in my entire life. I didn’t want to be here. But I wanted to be here.

“What’s wrong with me…?” I whispered out loud.

I don’t remember ever going back inside, but when I woke up I was in my bed. It was still dark out, the clock read just past 1 a.m. I sat up, still in the clothes I had changed into. I tucked my knees to my chest and sat there for a moment. My cheeks were sticky where my tears had dried.

The strange tugging sensation gave a nudge, not as violently as earlier, but subtly. As if giving me a suggestion. Without really thinking about it, I got up and went downstairs into the commons area, letting the tug pull me forward.

It was quiet in the room; plug-in lights with motion sensors lit up as I got closer to them, making the room have a strange dream-like glow. The girls were all still upstairs, sound asleep. The fridge in the kitchenette area kicked on with a hum for a few seconds before quieting down again. I paused like this for a little while, absorbing the atmosphere. Observing it. And then let my body be pulled forward again and out the door.

The halls were dim and quiet too. The carpet was soft but firm underneath my feet, muffling the noises of the world. I continued forward, my mind still in an almost fugue-like state. I didn’t care where I was going. I didn’t care where this pulling sensation would take me. None of it mattered anyway. Nothing I did would matter.

I came to the courtyard hub area that we crossed to get to the different areas of the human quarters, the Day wing, where classes usually occur. No one was here, but yet I could feel them here. The presence of people, the sounds echoed like the ghosts of a past memory occurring presently. I looked around and could almost see them. There wasn’t anyone here.

I felt a presence, a real presence, land behind me, and the direction of the tugging shifted and changed. I didn’t turn around or react, already knowing who and what it was but feeling nothing.

“Why are you here?” I heard his voice speak. It was soft, curious, and sad. A wave of somber confusion washed across me, but not my own. I turned around.

Zain stood right where he had landed, facing me. His eyes were firm but gentle, his expression matched the feelings in his voice. His hair shimmered in the moonlight, his red eyes glowing softly. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t frustrated or resentful. Just...lost. Sad and lost, and looking for answers.

“I followed my heart,” I replied.

He looked on in confusion, observing me, his eyes searching. His heart searching. It felt like I could see it, his heart, reflected in his eyes.

“Why are you here?” he asked again after a moment, differently.

Tears welled up in my eyes. “I don’t know,” I answered softly. “I don’t know…”

His expression changed into a look of helpless anguish. “Why are we here?” he asked again.

And then my eyes opened.

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#Chapter Three #book #original story #vampires #slowburn #romance #it's complicated #fantasy #depression #kidnapping #school life #nightblogofficialbook

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paraphernaliawagon · 5 years ago

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diary for 6/10/20

(yeah my “diary” is kept sporadically, nearly always written while high. and is exclusively about events of my distant past)

i’m thinking about “language teacher archetypes” and i’m realized i had like a stealth favorite professor in college. i mean i didn’t really realize i liked him until now. two stealth favorites actually. both serious research academic types from foreign countries who didn’t seem to really like teaching. one japanese professor i had a lot of classes with because he taught both linguistics and japanese. kinda stern, wouldn’t let a girl knit in class, was kinda homophobic and transphobic towards me and a classmate of mine. i know i’m making him sound awful, but like other than that he was a good teacher. i distinctly remember showing up to his class in january 2016 while an anti-trump protest was going on mere feet away in the square outside (i narrowly choose going to class over the protest since i was struggling in that class like i was in all of my classes. i did participate in the larger inauguration day protest march in town) and thinking “now that trump is elected, [professor’s name] could gtfo back to japan if he wanted to. he could abandon all of us if he wanted to” and having a sudden irrational fear of this happening. because if I had citizenship in another country, i would have been tempted to just leave rather than live in america under trump. but my professor wouldn’t leave america because the reason he chose to live over here in the first place was because so his kid could go to an american school. he found the american school system preferable to the japanese one.

and my other stealth favorie professor was a chinese linguist who was in town for some kind of conference and somehow ended up staying for an entire trimester to teach a class. she was obviously frustrated by the class being full of complete idiots woefully underprepared for advanced linguistics coursework and yes i am completely including myself in that. she gave me a much better grade than i deserved because my project was about a language she didn’t speak (japanese) and she falsely had confidence in me to know what the fuck i was talking about and to have spent enough time and effort on my research.

i tried to use the tale of genji as a source for my research because i couldn’t get access to a proper corpus in time (i had to put in a request to the people who run the database in japan, and they granted it just AFTER i turned in the project. a lot of the research and examples in our textbook used ancient literature as sources so i thought it would work. but i did not do a good job of it. protip: there is a reason all the other idiots in the class did their project on a language they actually speak fluently (english in almost every case). but i was like (ohh no english is soo boring! i can understand modern japanese well enough that i can probably understand ancient japanese right? NO. WRONG. OF COURSE NOT YOU FUCKIGN NINCOMPOOP) (although not everyone did a project on a VARIETY of english that they actually spoke. biggest idiot in the class did a project on “y’all” that i am still furious about 4 years later. he claimed to have evidence that “singular y’all” is in fact grammatical. his evidence came from 11 of his friends, not a single one of whom speak a dialect that uses “y’all.” but like they speak english and have HEARD southerners say “y’all” so like they BASICALLY have native speaker inside about it right? it was a TRAVESTY)

hey past self! pssst the tale of genji was written entirely in hiragana and by making it clear you don’t know this you are making it clear that you haven’t read it or done much research about it or the japanese language during that time period at all! you idiot. you are a pompous fool who thinks you’re so fucking smart

i have now read PART of the tale of genji. IN ENGLISH good lord it’s intellectually challenging enough in my native language. i have found it difficult to get through because like, stephen king wishes in his wildest dreams he could write a book this long, and even when i do understand what’s currently going on in the plot it’s just the main character being really really cruel to a long list of women. which i think might be the point. it’s one of those really serious and depressing novels with an unlikeable protagonist. dang i guess lady murasaki was REALLY ahead of her time with that because that kinda sounds like modernism. i don’t really know what modernism is tho. my favorite character is suetsumuhana. i feel sorry for her and kinda identify with her/ project myself onto her

suetsumuhana is this lonely noblewoman who lives in a ruined mansion cuz her father who was the only person who loved her died and now she doesn’t have the funds to hire enough servants to maintain the estate properly. she’s painfully shy and awkward and embarrasses herself constantly with her lack of social decorum and bad poetry. she’s also ugly with a big nose. she’s named after this flower

which is a reference to her big nose. she’s in one early chapter that is not connected to the main plot and that has a surprise reappearance in another chapter much later on. i just think, like, if it were me born into heian period aristocracy my autistic ass would have turned out just like her. i mean, i think THIS society that I live in is full of baroque and incomprehensible social rules that i will never ever get the hang of no matter how hard i try, and thus am forever doomed to make a fool of myself, be seen as a disgusting creep and have no friends? i have never ONCE become a laughingstock for writing a poem full of bad and clumsy symbolism in terrible handwriting on the wrong type and color of paper. IMAGINE if all your long-distance correspondence had to be done via poetry in which you subtly alluded to your true feelings and intentions by means of nature imagery? the characters in this book make it seem so easy!

#i belong on a Magic card called Overambitious Undergrad Who Isn't Doing Their Best Work Because of Severe Mental Health Problems

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callmestp · 7 years ago

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Tagged?

Tagged by @glassestouchdown. Thanks for considering me! It’s been ages since I’ve been tagged on anything (big surprise there), and I like thinking up answers to the questions.

Rules:

1. Post these rules

2. Answer the questions given by the tagger

3. Write 11 questions of your own

4. Tag 11 people!

1. If you could change just one thing about the world what would it be? To take some lyrics from the Creed song “Higher”: “The only difference is to let love replace all the hate.” And that would be it. Christ asked his followers to love their enemies and pray for those who would injure or persecute them (Matthew 5:44). And 1 Peter 4:8 states that love covers over a multitude of sins. Many other problems in this world, I feel, would be resolved in a few generations if people stopped their hate and loved instead.

2. Name a song that regularly gets stuck in your head. A song that has been stuck in my head lately is “Come for Us” by Evan Wickham. You can listen to it here: https://youtu.be/Jen0s9V4e5Y A friend of mine called the melody “majestic” and I’m inclined to agree.

3. What was the last movie you watched at the cinema and what did you think of it? That would be “American Made,” starring Tom Cruise. I was surprised to find out that it was based on a true story. I had known of the historical events mentioned in the film -- the drug cartels in Colombia, the Sandinistas in Central America and the Contras fighting against them -- but didn’t realize there was one person who was getting involved in all those areas.

4. If you could take some time off and just go study in a foreign country for a while, what would you study and where? I had to think about this one for a bit, but then the answer hit me in the face like a ton of bricks. If I could go abroad to study something, it would be to Israel, especially Jerusalem. It’s such a hub of cultures, and it’s steeped with history, Biblical and otherwise. Part of the reason I would go, would be as a pilgrimage to see the places where Christ lived and taught, and where he met His end.

5. What’s a skill that you don’t have at the moment that you would like to have? There are several ways I can approach this question. I can think of it in terms of a skill I would like to have but don’t really need, or a skill I really ought to have. In terms of a skill I’d like to have, I’d like to know how to play certain instruments: a steel guitar, a steel drum, and a church organ. In terms of a skill I ought to have, it would be public speaking. (It’s difficult for me to think up responses on the fly, making spoken conversation awkward for me.)

6. Who is the first fictional character that you felt really connected to, and who you still feel connected to today? It’s possible that there may have been someone different when I was younger, but in terms of what I can remember today: Sonic the Hedgehog was a video game character I connected to, from the first time I played one of his games, ca. 1996. Without saying any words, I saw someone with a sense of adventure, traveling all over the place, fighting for what he thought was right. I’m still a fan of the franchise and I still enjoy Sonic, but with all the other characters that have since been added to the cast, I adore the ancient Tikal the Echidna. She was a girl after my own heart: spiritual, compassionate, nurturing, almost motherly.

In terms of something a little more contemporary, I quickly gravitated to Toriel Dreemurr in the 2015 video game Undertale. I saw an older woman with a good heart, compassionate, protective (almost to a fault), left alone to wither away in the Ruins with only a few small monsters for company. I felt so bad when I had to leave Toriel behind, and nearly cried when she hugged me and walked away. Thankfully, in the Pacifist story arc, she got a chance to fulfill her dream of becoming a schoolteacher.

7. Are there any particular types of stories that you find yourself always drawn towards? I enjoy mystery stories, trying to piece together the clues before the protagonists can. I also really enjoy underdog stories, where one or more “small time” people work to achieve what others would have dismissed as impossible. These are probably why I love the movie Zootopia so much.

8. If you could meet a fictional character and spend a day with them, who would it be and what would you do together? To build upon my answer to question 7, I would like to meet and spend a day with Judy Hopps from Zootopia. Though the movie shows a bit of her back story, I’d love seeing a day in her life right now: how things are going with her partner Nick, how she’s treated by Chief Bogo and the other cops at the ZPD now that she’s definitively proven her worth, and how she spends her free time away from work. I’d also ask for more of her back story: exactly what age she decided she wanted to be a cop, what she did in pursuit of her dream between ages 9 and 24, and whether she’d have done anything different with her life if she had the chance.

9. What are three things you would never want to go without? Family, the Bible, and a means to connect with other people.

10. List three things about yourself that you take pride in. I hesitate to use the term “pride” because, while it’s good to have a moderate degree of self-esteem, runaway pride can be one’s downfall. But in terms of things in my life that I’m glad are true:

A. I earned my Professional Engineering license in 2015. By far, that is my crowning achievement in my career. I’ve been wanting that ever since I was in college, and I put in the long hours for 6 months, studying for that eight-hour exam. And I certainly make use of that license in my job, though sometimes I get the feeling that it’s being taken for granted.

B. Since 2011, I’ve been able to express my ideas through creative writing. If I remember right, I’ve completed 11 fan fictions (plus one currently in progress). The writing has gotten progressively better (and usually longer) with every new story I compose. Regrettably, I’ve made little progress in this area during 2017, for all the other demands being made on my free time.

C. I’m glad that I’m at a point in my life where my circumstances are stable enough that I can help out others in need, whether that’s offering my time or my financial resources. For years, my sister has come to me for help on her university coursework, and this week, I learned that she trusts no one else (not even her own classmates) to give her advice and support she needs to succeed. I suppose I’m a victim of my own success, but still, for someone to actually say that I am valued that much...

11. What are you looking forward to in 2018? I am looking for a change in my life for the better. As of right now, every day, my evenings and weekends are occupied by one of three things: I’m either working late into the night (as part of my job’s on-call rotation), filling out applications for a new job, or helping my sister. If I was to get a new job -- and by tomorrow, I pray that some very good news is coming my way -- it would remove two of those three drains on my time. Thinking more long-term, moving into a new apartment closer to where (I hope) my new job is located, because this apartment has all the memories associated with my current employer. And maybe I can even work on other areas of my life I’ve been neglecting: finding friends, maybe even getting into a relationship.

The following questions are what I’m writing for this assignment.

1. If you could change one thing about yourself, whether it’s your body, your mind, or your life, what would it be?

2. (This is a morbid question, but it’s been on my mind since All Saints’ Sunday) If you died tomorrow, who do you think would attend your funeral? What do you think people would say about you, good or bad, if they were being honest?

3. Name your favorite thing about where you live right now. This could be in reference to your actual dwelling place, or the geographic location thereof.

4. What was something you had said or done when you were younger, that you now look back on and cringe?

5. Name your favorite hobby, and briefly explain what got you interested in it.

6. Your Tumblr blog: how’d you come up with the name? How long have you maintained it? Have you ever moved or changed names on Tumblr, and if so, what was the reason?

7. Christ Jesus once said that wherever your treasure lies, your heart will be there also (Matthew 6:21). What is it that you treasure most in your life?

8. If you could step into the life of any other person, living or dead, for 24 hours, who would it be, and what would you do with the time?

9. Describe your preferred platform for video games. Why do you prefer that platform over others?

10. If you had the option to be born into any time period, any place, where/when would it be and why?

11. What would be your thoughts of a world where humans co-existed on Earth with some sort of non-human sentient beings? They could be existing Earth species (feral or anthropomorphic), they could be extraterrestrials, or they could be non-organic robots.

Usually, for me, the most difficult portion of this activity is finding people to tag. On Tumblr and elsewhere, I tend to be a dead-end for most content. I don’t follow many blogs. Many are run by bots, and the ones that aren’t, I don’t know their authors personally. The only blog I follow, whose author I know, would be @glassestouchdown, and for that, all she would have to do is answer my written questions. Of course, anyone reading this, who follows my blog or otherwise, is welcome to try this themselves.

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crimsonrevolt · 7 years ago

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Congratulations Anna you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Ophelia Pomfrey!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

Anna, darling! You know how much we adore you, and Amos, and we absolutely adore Ophelia! We are so incredibly excited for her to once again grace the dash! We’ve definitely missed having her around. It’s always interesting to have a character that is more neutral in stance in the midst of people who are so polarized! The way that you balance her with kindness and seriousness really flushes her out as a balanced character. We’re also excited to see where the war will take her this time!

application beneath the cut; tw: mentions of death, blood (in para sample)

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

Anna, 23, she/her, PST

ACTIVITY

Probably a 6/10, I’m currently job-searching but I’ll be on at least once a day to do something!

TRIGGERS

*removed for privacy

HOW DID YOU FIND US? Through the hp rp tag originally, I think, but I’m already in this roleplay as Amos and as an admin.

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

I honestly don’t know. Maybe Neville or Luna? I took a lot of things from different characters and it sort of became a hodgepodge mix for me when it came when identifying with someone. Although… maybe Remus, actually? Especially when he was first introduced. He was calm and quiet and empathetic, and although he was a mentor to Harry, he was obviously struggling with his own issues and I identified with that a lot. Odd, I know.

ANYTHING ELSE? Just that I adore this rp so much (as you all probably know) and that I hope you all like Ophelia!

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Ophelia: Derived from Greek οφελος (ophelos) meaning “help”.

Pomfrey: Welsh surname of French medieval origins. Derived from male personal name Humfrey (meaning peaceful warrior)

I honestly didn’t know that her last name meant that and now that I think about it, it’s kinda perfect. Obviously JK Rowling knew what she was doing.

FACE CLAIM

Deborah Ann Woll.

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER *The following is from my original app – but basically, I missed playing her and thought that she had an interesting backstory and personality that could bring a lot to the rp!

There’s so many amazing female characters in this roleplay already, that I truly wanted to make one who stood out and would add something new to the mix we have. Poppy Pomfrey was always a fascinating character to me, especially for the crucial role she plays in the books – someone who is in charge of keeping the students of Hogwarts safe even when the school is attacked by Dementors, Voldemort, a Basilisk, etc. and I thought about how that would transfer to our roleplay. There’s so many fighters here already, that I thought it’d be interesting to have someone who’s a healer – someone in charge of making sure people stay safe and recover from whatever wounds they have, be it external or internal, and that’s how Ophelia started to form in my mind.

It was never mentioned in the series if Poppy Pomfrey had any family, but I imagine she probably did, and so I created Ophelia, who’d be her niece. She takes after her aunt more than her own parents though, spending time with her in the Hospital Wing even during her Hogwarts years and continuing her medical training after that. I believe she sees her aunt as an inspiration. Someone she wants to exemplify, particularly now when so many people are either suffering from the trauma of war, or actual physical ailments. Her parents however hold pureblood beliefs, despite their blood status – and strive to realign themselves with Lord Voldemort. Ophelia was expected to follow in their footsteps, but no matter how dearly she loves her parents, she has always been unable to do so.

She’s a healer – she’s not in this war to fight or to prove her worth, she just wants to prevent more harm from coming to anyone. She joined the Order for the sake of gaining more intel than she’d previously had about the war and how it’s progressing, along with more access to people who’d been wounded, but she doesn’t stand beside them in battle, rather on the sidelines waiting to see who’s been harmed in order to treat them. Ophelia abhors violence of any kind, and although she knows that this isn’t a battle they can win without some kind of fight, she still finds it difficult to involve herself as completely as others. As a healer, she implicitly wants to help everyone, regardless of which side they’re on. As a member of the Order, she finds it difficult to balance the differences of opinion and the guilt that comes with betraying what her parents expect from her, but she sticks around because she knows that this is the right side to fight on.

This neutral quality is something that I really want to explore. I believe she takes her job very seriously, and as such she won’t distinguish between friend or foe, something that’ll inevitably lead to her getting into more trouble than she’d planned for, or maybe will lead to her gaining the trust of people who might otherwise never reveal something to the Order. I think she can see where people are coming from more easily too, she understands the fear that drives the Death Eaters and Aversio (or that’s how she prefers to explain their actions) and Ophelia wants to give people hope, and along with that maybe find a way for peace in amongst all the violence that has transpired already. There’s a certain naiveté about that, which she’s well aware of. But going against the idea means going against some of her core principles, and so she keeps the mindset.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

Pansexual, I don’t think she’s explored it much though, maybe some experimental kisses with girls every now and then and a boyfriend that lasted no more than month. Romances and sex haven’t been things that she invested herself to. While in school she strove to be on top of her coursework so that she could become just as proficient a healer as her aunt, and after graduation she slowly worked herself up from a mere intern at St. Mungos to assisting the head of the Potion & Plant Poisoning Department. All of that’s left her with very little time to devote to relationships, and although she’s a romantic at heart, she doesn’t see that as a priority.

Any ship will be remarkably slow burn, although I’d love to explore the vulnerability that comes with that and the ways she adjusts to having an emotional connection with someone.

She is a cis-female, and prefers she/her pronouns.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

Old Blog: http://opheliapomfrey.tumblr.com/

Wand: Willow with Unicorn Hair Core

Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, and their ideal owner is often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. They have handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) the willow wands there have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn.

Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard. Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may ‘die’ and need replacing.

Boggart: Disappointment: more specifically, letting people down due to her own personal failures. Not being fully prepared to deal with a situation that she should be able to handle and losing the people she tries so hard to save.

Patronus: Those with the elephant patronus can be shy people, thinking everything through before acting. To some they may come off as worriers, but to them this is just how they function, they hesitate in all of their choices, but in the end they are comfortable with what they choose. They are affectionate, welcoming and warm to an almost maternal sense once they allow someone into their life. This is the hardest decision for these people to make, as they wish for peace throughout their entire life, and when they are hurt the emotional blow is severe. (x)

Personality Type: ISFJ - “The Defender” (x)

Zodiac Sign: Cancer

Playlist:

Bridge Over Troubled Water - Simon & Garfunkel I’ll take your part / When darkness comes / And pain is all around

Safe & Sound - Taylor Swift ft. The Civil Wars Just close your eyes / You’ll be alright / Come morning light / You and I’ll be safe and sound

All That I Am - Parachute And the light hits those eyes / As she’s dying to say / Just take me away from all that I am

From Eden - Hozier Babe, there’s something tragic about you / Something so magic about you

Silhouette - Owl City The mountain of things I still regret / Is a vile reminder that I would rather just forget

Piledriver Waltz - Arctic Monkeys I etched a face of a stopwatch / On the back of a raindrop / And did a swap for the sand in an hourglass

✓ Dependable

Out of her group of friends, she’s known for being the “mom” someone who assumes responsibility for everyone and who’ll be there no matter what else happens. It was a role she took on without thought, not minding the fact that she missed out on parties and having fun. She likes having people know they can rely on her, thinking that if they don’t have that knowledge it’ll be hard for her to treat them should they get hurt.

✓ Honest

She hates sugar-coating over the truth. Not seeing it as a kindness but as delaying the inevitable moment someone finds it out and is even more hurt because of it. Being lied to is a pet-peeve of hers, and she expects people to treat her with the same respect that she doles out to others. Being honest is a way of showing someone trust, even when there’s no reason for it, and it’s a very personal thing for her.

✓ Encouraging

The best way to heal people is to add a dash of kindness to whatever treatment you’ve already prescribed, or at least that’s Ophelia’s motto. She might be strict when it comes to making people rest and get the help they need, but when it comes to the people under her care, along with anyone else she meets, she’s nothing but patient and encouraging, wanting to put them at ease rather than set them further off-balance.

✓ Altruistic

Although she loves her job for the knowledge she’s been able to gain, the main reason she became a healer was so that she could do exactly what the title suggests. She gives a lot to people, without ever thinking about what they might give to her in return, and she holds the firm belief that spreading kindness is the only way you can truly eradicate evil.

✗ Reserved

Although honest, she’s not willing to just word-dump on anyone. She’d rather let other people do the talking in conversations. It comes from years of sticking to the library and her studies more than on actual human interactions, and she has difficulty with conversations that aren’t about a patient or some new medical discovery. Sometimes Ophelia wonders if she’s too intent on her work, but she pushes that thought away with the knowledge that at least she’s not wasting time with meaningless conversations.

✗ Anxious

This is not a trait she’s proud of, and one she’s been trying to suppress all her life. But the fact of the matter is that she’s always been fretful, a little too intent on everything that can go wrong than being able to focus on the things that work. She blames it on the fact that as a healer she’s constantly on the lookout for things to fix and because there’s so many things wrong with the world, she has difficulty balancing it all.

✗ Methodical

Even before she started to gain an interest in healing, Ophelia always liked to feelstructured. It’s a slightly OCD tendency, and she tries to keep it from preventing her stress, particularly with how she can’t keep everything orderly and clean while in the midst of battle, but she likes to be precise. Scared that even the slightest slip up will cause the death of some other person to rest on her hands. Leaving something to chance is something she never does, and while some might call it obsessive, she prefers to think of it as merely planning ahead and being aware of all possible outcomes. She doesn’t know how to be anything else, especially now that she’s got her medical training behind her.

✗ Melancholic

It’s hard for her not to bear the burden of the deaths she’s seen. And as much as Ophelia tries to close herself off to the emotions that come with it, she never succeeds in doing so completely. It’s caused everyday moments to always be tinged with a sadness, just waiting for the next thing to go wrong, and no matter how often she attempts to remind herself to just live and not worry as much as she does, it’s something she struggles with.

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

“I’ve already started trying to invent some potions – simple healing concoctions that address some of the illnesses not already treated. But I suppose a cure for lycanthropy – it’s gone unexplored for so long and it’s terrible that someone has to live with that stigma. I’d most likely ask someone else to name it – because I’m not sure I could do that justice.”

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

“I wouldn’t want to take anyone with me – it’s Forbidden for a reason and I’d feel like I was putting them into unnecessary danger. And I’d… take a healing salve with me… or perhaps a basket to carry any useful plants for potions.”

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

“Ones that are unrelated to work and don’t involve logic. The ones where you can’t get advice from books or anything rational and have to rely on gut instinct alone.”

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you?

“That I made a decision without thinking about it – or that I did something to purposefully hurt someone.”

WRITING SAMPLE

Battle was messy – blood and spells and bodies intermingling until Ophelia wanted to scream, her heart unable to bear the weight of all the hurt that others were causing. It was nothing like being in the Healing Ward of St. Mungos, no matter how much she’d tried to convince herself of it. But here she could see the origin of the screams of pain that seemed to multiply as the battle went on, could taste the hatred of everyone around her on the tip of her tongue, not just on the Death Eater’s side, but from the Order as well. It all made her want to recoil, curl up in a ball and wait for the monstrosities to be over. But although she knew from that very first mission that it’d be her last, sure that the violence that came with war wasn’t something that she could willingly take part in, she wouldn’t simply give up either. A healers hands weren’t meant to dole out harm, they were meant to help, and she was still certain of the fact that being in the Order was the best way she could ensure other’s safety.

After all, there was destruction in the aftermath; helpless souls calling out for aid in amongst the wreckage, and it was there that she found her peace. Stepping over the lifeless bodies in search for a life she could save, a hope she could grasp onto when the entire world seemed to be crumbling in upon itself. It wasn’t much, but she was certain that every life she’d be able to save was worth something, maybe not to her or anyone else in the field, but for someone else, that person could mean the entire world.

And yet, it pained her to watch others fall apart in front of her. The results of violence so evident that she couldn’t begin to shake it. And for someone who’d once been filled with the hope that she’d be able to make a difference in the world, Ophelia was starting to crumble, her smile wavering on the edges until she wondered how long she could keep it up. How long it would take for someone to notice.

But for now, she held her head up high. Intent on being strong because so many others relied on her being so. Her features drawn tight as she made her way through the makeshift tent she’d set up. The bodies she’d levitated onto little cots belonging to Order members, muggles, and Death Eaters alike, no matter the fuss the Aurors had raised at first. Underneath it all, they were still all skin and bones with hearts pumping blood and every one of them deserved the chance to live. Even if she’d had to bargain with the Order over the fact that they’d be able to question the Death Eaters once they recovered for them to allow her to treat them.

The noise of someone entering the tent distracted her from her patient, her eyes narrowing as the elderly figure of Dumbledore came into view. His expression was grave, distant, and Ophelia instinctively stepped in front of the girl she was treating, young – probably still attending Hogwarts, identified as belonging to one of the more prominent pureblood families.

If Dumbledore was here, it meant only trouble. She was well aware of that by now, and with the way the tides of war were shifting, news was never something good. Hushed words followed his approach, her features creasing as his intentions became clear. They needed to question the girl. Sure that her connections could offer them some kind of lead as to how to progress, but although Ophelia understood the rush to get information, she wouldn’t willingly give up the oath she’d taken upon first becoming a Healer.

“No,” Her voice was firm, and Ophelia was slightly surprised at the fact that it didn’t shake at all. She’d watched her aunt stand up to the man many times while she’d still been attending Hogwarts, but she’d never thought she’d be able to do so on her own. But this was her job, and she’d be damned if she let someone take away the responsibility that came with being a Healer. Even in times like these. “This is my ward and she’s my patient, and I don’t care if she’s got information for you – you’re not going near her until she’s been healed.”

#accepted app

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