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billconrad · 1 year ago

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Cleopatra

On April 12, 2023, Netflix released the movie Queen Cleopatra and received harsh criticism. The problems stemmed from altered facts to make the story more entertaining. Online posts from the actress who played Cleopatra amplified the situation. The heart of the problem is that Netflix released the movie in the documentary category. There are lawsuits by the Egyptian government because they poorly represented their beloved former leader.

We have all seen movies or read books that spun the original story into something unrecognizable. I recall the 2009 film Inglourious Basterds raised several eyebrows with its wildly different ending to WWII. It was a fun, goofy film that I got a laugh out of. Why? It’s a parody film. However, other moviegoers were not impressed with the radical departure.

I do not have any opinions about Queen Cleopatra because I did not watch it or research the controversy. I’m not too fond of it when people form opinions and publicly comment on something they have not directly experienced. If I were to guess, I do not think Netflix intended their film to attack Egyptian culture, but the result upset many people. Sometimes in my life, I did something stupid, even though people around me recommended a different course of action. I think this may have occurred during the production.

Instead of discussing the conflict surrounding the Netflix film, I have another topic in mind. My Immortality book series also has the character Cleopatra. I set my story in the preset, and my concept is that she used a life-extending procedure to survive. Given the present controversy, I thought it would be interesting to discuss my choices.

I picked Cleopatra because she is powerful, beautiful, historically significant, and a celebrated figure that readers would recognize. I also picked her because the plot required a known ruler of the ancient world. In that area, Cleopatra is at the top of the pyramid. Ha, I made a pun.

Yet, I knew there might be pitfalls because there will always be. Going into the process, I knew that the records of this period were poor, and additional facts are discovered. Plus, the popular view of Cleopatra (highlighted by the 1963 Elizabeth Taylor film) differs wildly from boring facts. Yet, I did not think people would care too much about my character choice because Cleopatra has been dead for a long time, and people use historical figures for many projects without issue. Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter? No problems there.

The real problem with the Netflix film is that it hit a specific sore spot because they released it as a documentary. The great people of Egypt have pride in their historical figures and do not appreciate when they are “accurately” tarnished. This pushback made me reconsider how readers would react to my book.

I treated the character Cleopatra as beautiful, intelligent, and strong. Yet she was in vain and out of touch with present society. When the facts fit, I used them, but when my plot demanded something different, I wrote, “History recorded X, but Y actually occurred.”

How did I get around the fact that she passed away a long time ago? I explained that there was a revolt in Rome. She substituted a dead body for herself and escaped. Cleopatra invented a life-extending procedure and has continued using it to the present day.

Writers have used historical figures many times, and it is my experience that readers accept tasteful transformations. This positive reaction is what I am hoping for, but what if this is not the case? The Netflix film reaction gave me a lot to think about, and I certainly would understand a harsh response to my book if I trashed Cleopatra.

What is my high-level view? I do not think my work tarnished Cleopatra’s reputation because I ensured the historical facts were accurate. What about being out of touch? All leaders are out of touch. Want proof? Click on the latest news and see what the politicians are up to. Today, when I wrote this, they are enacting a law in California to tax residents leaving the state. Umm? Come live in California. We will not screw you. Honest.

What about vanity? All characters must have flaws, or readers will get bored, but I did not entirely make up that flaw. Some historical records show Cleopatra was vain; the popular 1963 Elizabeth Taylor film highlighted this trait. I applied this flaw sparingly, and the result rounded out the character.

What do I feel the total result of my book means to readers? To answer such a question, I can pretend to be Cleopatra, reading my book in Heaven. She would probably get a kick out of my portrayal. Cleopatra’s power over people would remain intact, and her sharp mind would inspire readers. If she read other books in Heaven, she would understand how characters develop and appreciate that I had tastefully applied negative traits.

What would an Egyptian citizen think of my book? I think they would feel the same way. I treated their historical figure with dignity and positively contributed to her legacy. In the best case, my book’s minor Wikipedia footnote will be in the Cleopatra entry.

What if I am incorrect, and the people of Egypt hate my portrayal? Some might argue that any publicity is good publicity. I would not, and an adverse reaction would certainly hurt my feelings. The weak excuse of “I tried my best to portray Cleopatra positively” would not help the situation, even if it is true.

Would I understand an adverse reaction? Until the Netflix film came out, absolutely not. As proof, Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter did not result in a lawsuit or public uprising. Also, nobody would be foolish enough to release such a wildly inaccurate film as a documentary.

Yet, now I think differently. If I were to write a book today, I would not pick Cleopatra as a character because of the controversy. I am too small of a fish to take that risk. How about an immortal Abraham Lincoln? Umm, actually… He is a character in my next book. He is not immortal, but I changed a bit of history. Did you know Abraham Lincoln went into outer space? Yeah, just a bit.

You’re the best -Bill

January 17, 2024

Hey book lovers, I published four. Please check them out:

Interviewing Immortality. A dramatic first-person psychological thriller that weaves a tale of intrigue, suspense, and self-confrontation.

Pushed to the Edge of Survival. A drama, romance, and science fiction story about two unlikely people surviving a shipwreck and living with the consequences.

Cable Ties. A slow-burn political thriller that reflects the realities of modern intelligence, law enforcement, department cooperation, and international politics.

Saving Immortality. Continuing in the first-person psychological thriller genre, James Kimble searches for his former captor to answer his life’s questions.

These books are available in soft-cover on Amazon and eBook format everywhere.

#writing #character development #cleopatra #netflix

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always-andromeda · 2 years ago

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Meda please tell me why I keep having a dream about getting knocked up by Joby Taylor and us trying to co-parent. Like. It’s always a mess but we pull together for the kid and there’s tenderness and anger and fights (I wasn’t going to tell him about the baby he found out) and. Why. Why does my brain want this

𝐉𝐨𝐛𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: lmao poor baby stomping storm is gonna get a notification that I used one of his gifs and it's for this. I am sorry, my beloved. but I couldn't not use one of your gifs; they are too beautiful <3 also lmao thank you, delaney, for giving me an excuse to share these headcanons bc I also think about this kind of scenario all of the time. because truly. this has no right living rent free in my head.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: vague allusions to sex, pregnancy, Joby is a clueless dad (and I guess we're just eating that slop up), nothing else I can think of!

One usually doesn't try to purposely entangle themselves with Joby Taylor. Joby Taylor merely happens to you. One day you're internally groaning over how he's looking at you from under his heavy eyelids and baring that smug smile from across the bar and the next you're holding a positive pregnancy test and debating whether or not you tell him.

You decide not to. There's no reason to get him involved. He'd probably want you to get rid of it anyways, and you're not interested in that. So you go radio silent.

But Joby isn't entirely clueless. He notices how you seem to be distancing yourself. He doesn't want to admit it to himself, but when you don't answer his calls, he gets that pang of jealousy. He wonders for a moment if you might be seeing someone else.

Though he's far from being exclusive with you, something about that makes him twitchy. He likes to believe that you wouldn't need anyone else other than him. So, he becomes clingy. In an attempt to figure out why you won't see him, drink with him, or sleep with him anymore, he'll go directly to you.

And you'll never forget the dumbstruck expression on his face when he starts saying that he's been calling you for weeks, only to be caught off guard by the small bump that's forming on your belly. Now, he is intimately familiar with your body. And he knows that isn't just a pouch of fat.

Joby flies into hysterics. He'll exclaim, "Wait a second, what the fuck is that?"

Don't even bother trying to beat around the bush with him because he will straight up demand to know, "Is it mine?"

And though he hopes that the answer is no, he knows deep down in his bones that he would never be lucky enough to dodge that bullet.

When sent into fight or flight, Joby's first urge is to flee; to protect his ego. The old Joby who had never met his first child and who only cared about his career wouldn't have given a second thought before waving you off and going his own way. The easy way.

But he isn't the old Joby anymore. And as much as he loathes his truth, he resolves that he must live it regardless. For the benefit of you and this child, he'll be there.

Him being there is difficult, both for him and you.

First of all, getting him to quit smoking and getting him to drink less would be a feat. Drying Joby out is worse than most symptoms of pregnancy. Because he's stubborn, he'll insist that he needs it and only begins to soften when you remind him that you want the baby to grow up in a sober home.

Decorating the baby's room and preparing with all of the supplies you'll need, he mostly leaves that bit to you. He'd watch you paint the bedroom with a blank expression, just watching the pastel blue slowly cover over the plain white walls; a sign of the times if he'd ever seen one.

When you start to wobble on the ladder, he'll break from his trance and rush to your side, quietly chuckling about how he thought your balance would be better with the low center of gravity and everything.

You'd give him a little grimace, knowing full well that you look different now and hating that he seems to be aware of it too.

But if there's one thing that Joby doesn't struggle with, it's the way that bump grows through the months. Bodies are bodies in his eyes. He doesn't really have a preference exactly.

As long as he can still figure it out similar to how he did before you were pregnant, he'll be happy. And in that way, Joby is the most comforting through those insecurities; after all, he will never pass up the opportunity to tell you that you're not his favorite MILF before giving you a cheeky, sloppy kiss.

Actually raising the baby is the really difficult part, obviously. A life on the road with his bandmates really hasn't put him in the prime position to know what to do when the baby needs to be changed or burped or fed or nurtured in almost any way.

That leaves you teaching him as you go for the first few months. It also means that there's lots of conflicts. Not a week goes by where you're not arguing with him over him not doing his fair share to keep everything running.

The way that he apologizes is...unconventional...to say in the least. He expects you to read between the lines. Getting a verbal, "I'm sorry," takes a lot. He shows his remorse through random trips to the gas station convenience store on the corner and bringing you back your favorite snack and drink. He also shows it through offering physical touch.

Because Joby loves touching. Whether it's him rubbing your shoulders and easing the tension from your muscles with his skilled fingers or it's him rubbing a climax out of you at the end of the night; he hates the idea of you going to bed angry at him.

He'll lay in bed, watching the back of your head and wishing he had a clue what was going on in it. At least when you're relaxed under his hands, there's a better chance that there's no seeds of bitterness being sown inside of you.

That's another pill that's hard for him to swallow. He hates thinking that he's ruined your life. He's done it once before; and though Claire seemed to be just fine the last time he saw her, he'll never get over the fact that he brought life into the world and ignored it for the longest time.

Some of that guilt helps to fuel his efforts. It's what brings the deals into fruition. Because making those little promises forces him to keep his word and keeps him accountable.

"I'll clean up the baby food if you get the baby in the bathtub."

"Deal."

"How about you cook dinner and I'll do the dishes?"

"Deal."

"Let me take a nap for an hour while you play with the baby."

"Deal."

Each deal gets sealed with a handshake and maybe a kiss if he's lucky. Because at the end of the day, you're a team. You're in this thing together. And no matter what you feel for him, you're both determined to do right by this kid.

Joby does something that he never thought he'd do: he settles into a stable routine. One that doesn't include any substances or blackouts or lapses in judgment that make him hate himself. Through hard work and dedication, Joby becomes a functioning human being; a man who is actually trying his best.

And as much as he once hated the idea of planting himself firmly, he doesn't mind being potted right beside you. With the way you bloom, Joby makes sure that even during the moments where you don't like each other that much, you still respect each other. And Joby hopes that'll never change. Because maybe he didn't ruin your life. Maybe, though, you saved his.

#paul dano #danonation #danocel #for ellen #joby taylor #joby taylor x you #joby taylor x y/n #˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚

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rokugenshiki · 2 years ago

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Inspiration: Look what you made me do (Taylor Swift)

last, I guess? piece from times ago, still featuring Badr and a certain scene at the Masquerade. once again, it contains a bit of a spoiler, even if it’s slightly a remake (because I love all routes, but Lucio deserves the rough treatment a little too much to pass this up).

again, use of poetic license in this one too. Badr isn’t a pacifist nor passive enough to not to try all kind of tricks.

The main ballroom was full of people, citizen of Vesuvia and visitors from abroad alike, all silent before the sight.

On the top of the stairs, in all his glory, Count Lucio stood. Arms wide open, smirk in place. The only thing that testified his illness was the vibrant red in his scleras. A color that made Badr shudder a little, especially since the memories came back.

Her brows furrowed evidently, irises darting to the still smirking face of the Devil.

“What? Your beloved are all fine and healthy. I have done no harm to them, nor you.”

The magician didn’t grace him with an answer, moving her gaze to the Count. Her eyes caught the astonished expressions of the guests, some horrified or terrified, others enthusiastic or curious.

She spotted the familiar mask and outfit of Nadia, the closest to the man. Then Portia, who - forever faithful - was offering all her support to the Countess.

Julian, he was nowhere she could see, but if she extended her senses enough she could feel the faintest pulse of his magic.

And, finally, Asra. His presence alone served to soothe her nerves and calm her racing mind a bit.

She had no time to spare getting nervous and panicky. She had to go back, to get her body back.

Easier said than done.

And yet…

A spark ignited an idea in her mind, eyes growing wide as it took control of her whole self. Badr knew it was something akin of a desperate attempt to hold on to the material world, but still - if that worked, it would be totally worth it.

Determined, she dashed off to the closest exit under the curious scrutiny of the major arcana.

After the initial shock of the unexpected appearance of Lucio, the mood managed to shift back to a more party-like atmosphere. There were still glances thrown at the supposed dead man, but more than that everyone learned fast to mind their own business. It was easier to keep their sanity that way.

Speaking of which, Nadia felt like she was losing both that and her patience.

She felt one of her headaches come back full-force, stronger and stronger, the more her ex-husband talked. Lucio was definitely more obnoxious that she remembered him and even sprouted more nonsense that he did before. For sure, he was convinced everything was fine and dandy and that everyone was more than happy for his return.

Oh, how wrong could he’ve been! He and his pompous plan - whatever that might be, beside coming back - was something they definitely had to stop before it was completed. Still, without Badr things could go downhill faster than anyone could’ve anticipated, or so her instinct told her.

They needed everyone to succeed, for sure.

She had excused herself to take a fresh breath of hair on the balcony, Portia offering her a quick moment of solace with a glass of white wine, but the blonde man was surely known for his stubbornness in keeping the attention to himself. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be back looking for “Noddy” - how she hated that damned nickname!

The umpteenth snort left her lips, and she was about to just go and ask her beloved husband to please shut the heck up, when a soft tap on her back caught her attention.

Turning around, her eyes met a finely carved mask of a wolf. Or a dog, maybe.

The figure, clad in a beautiful white-and-silver outfit, extended their hand to her with a respectful bow and a familiar playful smirk barely hidden by the disguise.

“Forgive my impudence, Your Grace. But may I dare to ask you for a dance? It may be the only occasion to do this.”

The voice, too, was familiar. A tone or two deeper than she remembered, but still familiar. She smiled, a blessed wave of relief hitting her. “My, I couldn’t deny such a chivalrous request.”

When the new song started, the Countess found herself in the middle of the dance floor not long after leaving her glass on a table on the way inside. The two danced on, as close to each other as socially acceptable by her standing - not that she would have minded, if her “knight” felt it appropriate to bring her closer to them.

At some point after a swift turn, Nadia found herself giggling. Her partner locked eyes onto her.

“I knew you could dance well, but I didn’t expect you to ask so boldly.”

Badr smirked, a roguish expression the Countess found rather appropriate. Nadia’s mind faintly registered the fact that, finally, Lucio feel silent from where he was standing. The sight alone made her smile a tad wider.

“The Masquerade allows some boundaries to be crossed, a really unique event. And…”

The dark haired magician pressed herself a little closer, almost flushing against the ruler as they turned again. Wasn’t it for the mask, Badr’s lips would have been an hair’s breadth from Nadia’s ear. The Prakran woman felt a little frisson on her back when the whispered words came to her.

“You should spite your ex-husband some more. His expression right now is reeeally the best.”

She couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as she actually saw him: if there was something Lucio despised, other than not being at the centre of attention, it was someone stealing that from him directly.

And of course, with the fact that someone was dancing with the Countess herself and did a damn good job at stealing everyone’s stares away, he couldn’t help but boil in silent frustration.

When the song ended,Nadia found herself pulled back from her dancing partner by a very annoyed and pouting Count. His eyes were locked on Badr, an angry and jealous glint in them.

“Well well well, you seem to be having fun. Shouldn’t you invite your Lord, too?”

Typical of him, he wasn’t bothered by the fact that a stranger was dancing closely with his wife. He simply didn’t want to be left out - he had been for too long, three and more years, after all.

So, if attention is what he wanted, attention would he get.

“How unfair of me, focusing on Lady Nadia and not you.” Badr began, voice so exceedingly sweet that even he was thrown off a bit. “Please, let me show you my deepest appreciation for you.”

Lucio didn’t have the time to respond as a gloved fist met his face, pain erupting from its center and irradiating like the Plague in his head. He fell backwards, landing on his backside, grunting in pain as a collective gasp filled the air.

He looked up, surprised gray irises meeting fiery green ones. The mask had fell off. He recognized the face staring down at him.

“You—!”

“Yes, me.” The magician growled, bending at the waist before him. A hand closed on the front of his cape, pulling him towards their face, barely a breath away. “Don’t get too cozy in that body, Dearest Lord. I will take it back, bite after bite should I have to.”

A low, cracking sound followed the seething declaration.

Only then, both Lucio and Nadia noticed the pieces of dark soil falling on the floor, from the arm that Badr used to hit the Count with. A few seconds and the white clad figure of the magician turned completely into soil and crumpled, dirtying the pristine clothes of the ruler.

Astonished silence followed for a moment before he stood back up, barking at the spectators and stomping off to clean himself off. All the while the Countess tried not to smile too much at the sight: even if banished from the living realm, Badr could have such a strong fighting spirit - one that even Lucio, nor the Devil himself, could control.

A storm in human flesh, able to erase the obstacles in her way.

Unpredictable, or an “accident” on Lucio’s account.

She definitely would be back and teach her stupid husband a lesson he’d never forget.

#writing #the arcana #count lucio #nadia satrinava #the arcana apprentice #oc: badr #(I swear I love Lucio and the Devil)#((kinda))#(Badr doesn't)#(as they say today we choose violence)#((for legal reasons that's a JOKE))#the arcana spoilers #self indulgent

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stagefoureddiediaz · 3 years ago

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It’s reached the point in hiatus when I’ve gone a bit more crazy than my usual brand, so you guys all get to share in my insanity!

I’ve always been interested in name meanings, and if they reflect the person who bears the moniker (I mean my name supposedly means ‘ruler or chief from the royal fortress’ and I’m none of those things 🤣). Where I think it’s especially interesting and relevant though is when it comes to characters in tv and film because it’s always fun to try and figure out if the writers have looked up name meanings when choosing what to call their characters.

No idea if anyone has already done this, but I did a bit of compiling and I can’t help but feel that the writers have to have done at least some cursory looking into name meanings because they’re just too perfect for the characters personalities! I could go into detail about all these name meanings, but it’s all glaringly obvious so I really don’t need to!

Robert - bright flame

Wade - able to go, ford

Howard - Bold heart

Henrietta - Keeper of the hearth/ home

Evan - God is gracious

Edmundo - prosperity and protector

Maddie - strength in battle

Athena - war and wisdom

Christopher - bearer of Christ

May - goddess of spring

Harry - ruler of the home

Karen - pure

Michael - gift from God

David - beloved

Taylor - cutter of cloth (you alter your personality to fit with the demands of a situation!!)

Kelly - warrior!!

Albert - noble and bright

Ravi - Sun

Abby (the Saxon short form) - sweet refuge

Ali - high (honestly this makes me laugh so much considering buck meets her up high in a skyscraper 🤣)

Josh - salvation

Sue - lily - rebirth

Carla - free woman

Daniel - God is my judge

Ana - favoured grace

I find it really interesting that Bucks 3 girlfriends all have gender neutral names! 👀👀👀

Abby - can be a short form of Abigail or Abraham

Ali - a short form of alison, alistair (and many others)

Taylor - not short form, but gender neutral

Kelly - is also a boys name - especially common in Scotland and Ireland!

Also feeling highly amused that Lena and Lucy both have the same meaning;

Lena - torch or light

Lucy - light

Add into this the fact that Ravi and Albert also have similar meanings and that all these characters have been used as devices to shine lights on character traits of our mains (pun very much intended). We’ve seen Eddie’s self destructive traits highlighted by Lena, Albert shone a light on Chimneys feelings of not being wanted or good enough for his father etc, Ravi has been used as a vehicle to show bucks coping mechanisms and abandonment issues. If we go a bit further away from main cast, even Tara (means ‘shining’ in Sanskrit) was a way of highlighting that Maddie needed to deal with her trauma from her abusive marriage. So Lucy is a plot device to shine a light on buck and his self destructive and self chastising ways (I mean we’d already guessed this, but it’s fun that the name emphasises it!)

#random thoughts about 911 #name meanings #it’s reached that point in hiatus!#love a slightly clowning theory #🤡🤡🤡#911 on fox #911 #911 fox #911onfox #911 character names

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sirtommyholland · 4 years ago

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Four Years of Birthdays

A/N: Hey everyone! This isn’t my first time writing for Harry but my first time actually posting it so I’m very excited! This is inspired by the little piece I wrote on Tom Holland’s birthday, I wanted to make a similar concept. Hope you guys like it, and happy birthday to our beloved baby boy Harry Styles! We love you so much!💜

Word Count: 2.4k (she tiny because I suck)

Summary: Harry’s four different birthdays with Y/N in differents points of his life.

Fluff all the way! with like a little talk about sexual themes because I had to.

poc friendly and plus size friendly (I think, please tell me if I made a mistake!) because we dont blush bright red or swim in men’s clothes in this house💫

2019 - 25th Birthday

Spending his birthday with Y/N was one of Harry’s favourite things. Over the last ten years of his life, she had missed quite a few of them as he was on the road and she was back home in London, going to uni and living a normal life. It was only the last couple of years that he was able to be home on his birthday, his solo career allowing him a bit more freedom to arrange his schedule as he wanted.

This year, he had wanted to have a quiet birthday, just with his family and close friends. And of course, his girlfriend, who was currently climbing on his back on the bed, trying to coax him out of sleep.

“Loviee” she whined into the back of his neck between kisses. “Wake up.”

“No.” his voice was deeper than usual as he groaned, trying to bury himself more into the pillows to avoid the bright sunlight in the room. “‘M sleepy.”

“But it’s your birthday.” she protested with a kiss to a small part of his cheek that wasn’t hidden away. “I need to give you your 25 kisses.”

“Just 25?” he frowned, raising his head from the pillow to look back at her. “That’s nowhere near enough! You kiss me more on a regular day.”

“Hmm..” she pretended to ponder his words, one of her hands going up to brush away the soft curls that fell on his forehead. “Then how about I give you a blowie for 25 minutes?”

Even if she couldn’t see his face, she would still be able to hear the grin in his voice. “Now that’s more like it.” He was turning over and laying on his back in a heartbeat, tugging at her thighs to make her straddle him again.

She complied, throwing one leg over his hips and gently sitting on thighs, not putting her full weight. She leaned down to softly brush her lips against his, once, twice, three times. “Happy birthday, baby.” she sighed against them, rubbing her nose against his lovingly.

“Thank you, angel.” he smiled, letting his hands roam over the soft material of her shirt. “I reckon it’s gonna be the best one so far.”

“Really? Is there a reason why?” she grinned, feeling like she already knew the answer.

“Because this is the first one I’m waking up with you as my girlfriend. Finally,” he sighed. “I can kiss you for real instead of making a wish for it when I blow out the candles.”

“You’re so cheesy.” she teased with a smile, leaning down to give him another kiss. “I still can't believe you wished for it.”

“Literally every year.” he confirmed, only blushing slightly under her loving gaze. “Honestly don’t know what I’m gonna wish for this time. It’s been the same thing for many years.”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” She placed a final peck to his lips, then swiftly got up from his lap. “Now get up, your mum’s expecting us for breakfast.”

“But- but- my blowie!”

She looked back to see an adorable pout on his lips, one that she almost couldn’t resist. Almost.

“Later.” she promised, pulling him to his feet and laying a few kisses on his neck. “I’m gonna take care of you properly tonight, after your party. Along with your final present.”

“You’re a tease.” he breathed, the meaning behind her words not so hidden. She grinned, and trailed her hand softly down his back until she was grabbing his bum, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Heyy!” he jumped, trying to grab her before she made a run for the bathroom, and failing.

“Pick your outfit, it takes ages!” she yelled through the closed door, making him huff and fall back on the bed dramatically.

“Harry Edward Styles!” Well, guess she knew him too well.

“Yes, ma’am!”

2009 - 15th birthday

“Hello.”

Harry raised his head from the plastic cup he was refilling, to see a familiar girl looking at him with a friendly smile.

“Hi.” he smiled back as he straightened up, silently giving her the cue to go on.

“Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to say that I really liked your performance. You guys were incredible!”

“Oh, thank you! Of course you’re not bothering me. I’m glad to know you liked it.” He grinned. “We’re at the same school, right? I’ve seen you around before.”

“Yeah, but we’ve never actually talked, I think. I’m Y/N, by the way. Will invited me because I live next door.” she explained, nodding towards his bandmate that was currently hosting his birthday party/small concert in his garage.

“You don’t need to explain yourself! Next time, I’ll just have to make sure that I invite you myself.”

She grinned at his words. “That’s very nice of you, Harry. Oh, and happy birthday, by the way! I almost forgot.” Right, she was at his birthday party. She already knew his name.

“Thank you! And thanks for coming.”

Before she could open her mouth to say anything else, the lights were dimmed and the back entrance of the garage was illuminated with a soft, orange light as his friends brought in the cake. Off-key voices singing him happy birthday filled the space, and he made his way to his friends with a huge smile on his face, Y/N joining the small crowd around him as they waited for him to blow out the candles.

“Don’t forget to make a wish!” one of his mates yelled just as he was leaning towards the cake.

“Sorry.” he chuckled, then closed his eyes to make his wish. I want to make music. For all my life.

Little did he know, that would be his only wish in the next ten years that didn’t involve the girl that he had just met.

2016 - 22th birthday

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling twenty-two! Everything will be alright if you keep me next to you!”

“What the fuck.” he muttered into his pillow, trying to figure out if he was dreaming or if his phone was actually ringing with a Taylor Swift song. But even when he was wide awake after a few minutes he could still hear her melodic voice, so he reached out with a groan and checked the caller ID. Of course.

“How did you manage to change my ringtone all the way from London?” he answered in a groggy voice.

“Well, good morning to you too, hun, took you long enough! I’m very good, thanks for asking! And I got Niall to do it yesterday, obviously.”

“... Morning Y/N.”

“Oh, stop grumbling, it doesn’t suit you. Get up and get ready, I’m gonna facetime you in thirty minutes.” And before he could say anything, she hung up on him.

He looked at this phone in disbelief. Did she just hang up on me on my birthday?! He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the soft smile that appeared on his face. To be honest, there were a lot of things he couldn’t help when it came to her.

Half an hour later, when he was freshly showered and dressed, his phone rang with an incoming facetime call just like she said. She probably set an alarm for exactly thirty minutes, he thought fondly.

Her smiling face greeted him as he accepted the call. “Happy birthday, Haz!!”

“Thanks, love.” he chuckled, eyeing the tiny cupcake in front of her through the small screen. “Whatcha got there?”

“That’s your birthday cupcake, made it myself! Was tired of shitty store-bought cake.”

“I don’t know, it looks kind of ugly.” he joked, grinning at her mock-offended face. “I could do better. I worked in a bakery, ya know.”

“You literally just ran the register and washed the dishes.”

“Still, in a bakery!”

She was shaking her head at his shit-eating grin, but he could still see a soft smile playing at her lips. It caused his heart to flutter in his chest. What he wouldn’t give to see her smiling at him like that everyday.

“Anyway, candle time!” she piped, grabbing a lighter from somewhere behind the camera and lighting up the single candle on her tiny cupcake.

Harry watched her raise the cupcake closer to the camera and she instructed him to make a wish. This routine was familiar to them now. Every year, she would video call with a different type of cake, to make up for not being able to be there with him.

Harry closed his eyes, and made the same wish that he had been making for the last six years of his life. I wish you were mine.

He opened his eyes and blew lightly towards the screen, her actions matching his as she blew out the candle in his place. She gave a little cheer afterwards, and the brightness of her eyes warmed him up all the way down to his toes, even through a phone screen.

They talked for a while after that, catching up on each other’s lives and discussing the dates they would be able to meet up again. She hung up with a final ‘happy birthday, love you!’ and then he was left staring at his phone, a small smile still remaining on his face. I wish you were mine.

And later, when he logged onto his twitter account and tweeted some certain song lyrics, he only cared about one person’s reaction out of millions.

2018 - 24th birthday

“Hey. I’ve been looking for you.”

Harry turned towards the kitchen door that led to the back garden, seeing her slide it close to make her way towards him.

“Just taking a breather, love.” he said, accepting his woolly coat that she handed him. “Thank you.”

“Didn’t want you to catch a cold.” She sat next to him on the wooden porch bench, wrapped up in her own fuzzy coat. There was another item in her hand, a thick, heavy looking box.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at it.

“Oh, I came here to give it to you. Your final gift.”

“Y/N.” he sighed. “The others were more than enough.”

“I don’t think this even counts as my gift, honestly.” She grinned at the puzzled look on his face. “Just open it.”

He did. Inside was a thick notebook, a scrapbook by the looks of it, that read ‘Happy Birthday Harry! - 2018’

He looked at her curiously, but she just smiled and told him to open it again. He turned to the first page, and ran his gaze across the page. His eyes widened in surprise. He quickly flipped a few pages to see that all of them had the same thing; printings. Printed screenshots from various social media platforms, of his fans wishing him a happy birthday.

“I know you don’t use social media a lot these days.” she explained as he kept reading the tweets glued onto the scrapbook. “But you were trending on Twitter today, and yesterday too, lots of people wishing you a happy birthday and telling how much they loved you. I thought you might want to see it.”

He let out a watery laugh, not being able to tear his gaze away from the book in his hands. He couldn’t help the tears, not really. She had taken the time to print out lots and lots of tweets, instagram posts, everything; she had cut them and put them in this book and added little stickers in between with colorful doodles. And she had done it to carry his fans’ messages to him, she had basically hand-delivered their gifts of love to him.

“Thank you.” he breathed, his voice catching in his throat. “This is… I think this may be the best gift I’ve ever received.”

“Well, like I said, it’s not technically from me. I just put some tweets together, your fans are the ones who wrote them.” She paused, then added. “I just wanted you to see just how loved you are. By everyone. You have such a kind heart, and an amazing soul; all of these people are aware of it and they love you for it.” She tapped the book in his lap, emphasising her words.

“Thank you.” he repeated himself, seemingly at a loss for words. He closed the book and carefully put it back in its box, intending to read everything in it later. He placed it beside him, then turned to her and pulled her in a hug.

Her arms were around him in a second, not hesitating to tighten around him and pull him closer. She was so warm even in the cold weather, and she smelled so nice, and he wouldn’t be able to pull back if he tried. He didn’t know how long they sat there in each other's embrace, but when he felt her starting to lean back, something in him shifted. He turned his head towards her as she pulled away, so his cheek was softly grazing hers. She stilled a bit, looking into his eyes as if she was looking for something, then she closed her eyes and turned the rest of the way, her lips meeting his in a gentle kiss.

His breath hitched in his throat as his lips slightly parted, a small gasp making its way out of them when he realized finally, finally he was kissing her. He was kissing Y/N. This was really happening.

He brought a hand up to gently cup her cheek, his thumb stroking her cheekbone as they kissed, probably the softest, the most incredible kiss of his life. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe how amazing she felt against him, how her hands in his hair felt just right, how warm her cheek was under his hand.

But despite every bone in his body wanting to kiss her forever, he was the first one to pull away, because he just couldn’t keep it in anymore. “I wish you were mine.”

“What?” she asked breathlessly, apparently still under the effect of their kiss.

“I wish you were mine.” he repeated. “That’s the wish I’ve made on every single birthday since I was sixteen. Everytime you looked at me and told me to make a wish, I was only able to think about how much I wanted to kiss you.”

She stared at him with parted lips, looking into his eyes like she was trying to figure out if he was messing with him. She could only see love and admiration.

“You’re an idiot, Harry Styles.” she breathed. Then, she cupped his face with her hands and kissed him again, and again, and again, and he felt like everything in his life was finally going to be okay.

some end notes: Sooo I’m sorry for the kind of shitty ending. It’s literally 3 am in Turkey rn and I have an early class but I just wanted to finish this quickly and post it before I went to bed. I haven’t written anything in months because I wasn’t 🌌feeling it🌌 so I basically bullied myself into writing this haha. This is my first posted Harry piece but there are a few other pieces I’ve been working on! (for months, literally. *sigh*)

If you liked it, please feel free to reblog and leave a teeny tiny feedback! Writers really appreciate it!💜

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #happy birthday harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #best friends to lovers #pining

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

Text

Long Distance Longing with the Brothers

Want a little angst and sweetness? I love how this turned out and I think it’s a new favorite for me. I honestly should wait to post it... But I have no patience, I love it too much. Weirdly enough, thank Taylor Swift’s new album for giving me this idea. Go figure. 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: Angst, implied starvation

Intro:

The brothers knew it was going to happen eventually. The year can't last forever, and at some point they were going to have to say goodbye to their human for the break… But that didn't make the situation any easier. Nobody likes being so far from the one they love. It was only a matter of time before our boys are reaching a breaking point...

Lucifer

Lucifer has never really had a reason to not to work before… Like, yeah there are those days where things get stressful and he takes a step back, but actually taking an extended period of time to just... not work? A "vacation" if you will? He’s never had the desire. What would he even do with himself?

Well, for the first time in literal God knows how many centuries, he had an answer for that question. He was going to be with MC.

And that's exactly what he told Diavolo when he finally accepted that missing the MC was negatively affecting his work.

He wanted a… "vacation."

Diavolo had never once thought Lucifer would ever ask, and to be fair the man never thought he would either, but he's more than happy to give his friend a few days off to visit his dear human.

Whatever brief hit that his pride took by having to admit that he needed a break was more than made up for by finally seeing the MC again. He knew he missed them, painfully aware of that fact, but just the sight of them waiting to meet him outside the portal was enough to nearly take his breath away…

His first vacation was sure to be paradise.

Mammon

Oh, the distance was killing this poor boy. Any day where he can’t have the MC on his arm feels worse than when he's on a losing streak…

Speaking of a losing streak, he's been stuck in one for a whole month without his beloved partner in crime with him. Did he lose his lucky charm or was he just too down in the dumps to gamble well? Anyone's guess.

Well he got fucking sick of it. He wanted to see the MC, ASAP. But how would he get to the human world…?

It takes a week but he gets an idea. It took another for it to actually trigger.

Like clockwork one of the witches he's regularly in debt to, one that just happens to be a bad gambler herself, summoned him out to give her a little extra luck. Usually, he'd just kick whatever slot machine she’s parked herself at and be done with it but this time he's got to ask… How long does that summon spell last, eh?

He made a new sort of bargain. She gets to take Goldie out for a spin if she gave him some time in exchange… 24 hours to be exact.

He didn't waste a second after striking the deal because he had a lot of flying to do.

The MC probably didn't expect to hear frantic knocking on their door at the break of dawn, nor to find a beat tired and disheveled Mammon leaning outside it….

But he embraced them for all it's worth anyway. If it meant feeling them in his arms again, he'd trade away the whole world if he had to...

Leviathan

He… didn’t do so well with the distance. Like at all. He'd mope around the house, constantly bemoaning how unfair things were. Not even his favorite games can give him any joy because those were the games he used to play with MC…

Sneaking in the occasional video call was pretty much the only thing that could make him smile anymore. Just seeing their face felt like getting a cold drink in the middle of a scorching desert… But he wanted more.

Thankfully, the MC themselves gave him a really, really good idea…

For two weeks straight, Levi seemed to get out of whatever funk he was in to help out around the House… Like, really help out. Suck-up levels of help out. It creeped everybody out...

After a time he finally approached Lucifer and made a simple request. There was an anime convention going on in the human world soon and he'd like to attend…

The ulterior motive for this little visit is practically written on the wall, but he'd been acting so damn unnerving for the past two weeks Lucifer just gave him permission to make him stop.

When the MC agreed to meet him on the opening day, they said they'd be dressed up as someone he'd recognize. Frankly, he was expecting Henry or maybe Ruri-chan but he was completely floored to see them waiting for him dressed in a familiar black hoodie with coral-like horns on their head and a carefully crafted serpent's tail behind them.

To this day he still can't decide what made him happier: seeing the love of his life so adoringly dressed as him or finally feeling their body collide with his after they came running to each other outside the convention hall...

In the end it probably doesn't matter because for that whole day alone, he finally felt like he had everything he could of ever wanted right there with him.

Satan

Satan's not one for idle moping so when he felt that yearning in his chest finally hit a tipping point, he didn't whine. He didn't complain. He got up and did something about it.

Teleportation magic is tricky to master and dangerous to perform even with sufficient skill. One wrong move and you could end up smearing yourself across three different continents…

But like that would stop him.

He pulled out every book he could find on the subject, researched for days, then practiced for weeks. First on books and apples, then on some of Lucifer’s belongings.

He had to keep making new excuses to throw Lucifer off the scent (especially after he started sending some of his shirts away to different parts of the house) but after some time, it finally paid off.

Satan was probably the last person the MC would have expected to see show up in their room randomly one night, sitting casually by a lamp and reading a book like he didn't just master time and space just to come say hi.

But who was going to be all that picky when they could finally shower their nerdy cat-lover in all the love and kisses they've both been missing for months now?

Asmodeus

If you took Asmo at his word, then the sheer depths of longing and despair he was experiencing while the MC was away could far outweigh that of anyone else to ever have existed in the history of all time.

He was the Avatar of Lust, desire was in his nature. Couple that with a burning need to have his lover as close to him as he possibly could and it was safe to say he was losing his mind!

This might have been the reason Solomon finally gave in after his 16th-ish time trying to beg the sorcerer to help him. He really was quite pitiful in this state...

When Solomon told Asmo that he could smuggle him out of the teleportation gate between the Devildom and human world ONLY if he could magically disguised his appearance, he was kind of expecting Asmo to refuse. This was Asmo he was talking about. He honestly thought that he'd rather die than deprive the world of his beauty so selfishly…

The world is full of surprises, ain't it?

No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, the MC was suddenly mowed over by a "stranger" running at them at top speed like an Olympic sprinter. It’d probably have been pretty scary before Solomon lifted the enchantment shortly after to reveal their demon’s gorgeously familiar face.

Solomon wasn't going to let him stay too long, lest he incur the wrath of Lucifer, but Asmo couldn't care less. Be it a thousand hours or a few short seconds, he could always find a way to make his time with the MC last a lifetime...

Beelzebub

Fun fact, Hell freezes over a little every time Beel says "I'm not hungry…" No. Seriously. A freezing wind blasts across the entire Devildom like the realm itself gets a sudden chill...

So imagine the levels of panic that went through pretty much everyone there when his appetite started to fail him.

It's not like the poor baby could help it, food just tasted so much better when the MC was there that eating without them was like trying to digest actual disappointment… He got tired of trying after a while.

A few days of this behavior were worrying, but when he started to get a little thinner the family went into an uproar, starting with Belphie but soon spreading to the rest of the House as well.

Lucifer's soft spot for the twins may have influenced his decision. I mean, it was awfully generous of him to get Diavolo to approve of an fully sanctioned, planned meeting between Beel and the MC. He probably wouldn’t have offered that to anyone else...

Not that Beel cared about all that background favoritism anyway. Hell, on the day that he was finally allowed to see them, he couldn't be bothered by anything other than holding the MC close and hoping they'd never let him go again.

His appetite did return to him eventually, of course, but as long as he had his human with him even the cheapest street taco tasted like a fine five star-meal.

Belphegor

Frankly, Belphegor was sick and tired of missing people.

Ever since the Celestial War he missed Lilith. When he was stuck in the attic, he missed Beel. And now that the MC was away he was supposed to just sit patiently and miss them too? No way. Not happening. Something about that had to change.

It wasn’t the first time he'd gone to Lucifer in an angry huff, but admittedly he had more ammo than usual...

There was a… discussion between the two. It went on for a couple hours… There may have been some words to the effect of, "Don't you think you owe me?" exchanged…

Honestly, it was kind of amazing Belphie didn't end up in another attic "timeout" by the end of it. But he got what he wanted, so what's to complain about?

With a little persuasion on his part, Lucifer managed to get Diavolo to approve of a weekly visit for the two, SO LONG as Belphie stayed on his best behavior in the human world.

There wasn’t really much worry about him acting up, though, since he'd have his nap buddy back. It would be pretty hard to be a threat to humanity when he was too busy staying snuggled up to his favorite person until well past noon...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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novelconcepts · 4 years ago

Note

You saying more childhood AU is possible with the right prompt is just...

More Tess. All of the Tess. Tess the morning after the party, lives in my brain rent free. The teasing. The knowing looks. The Jamie and Dani being so in love and unashamed and also oops we forgot the roommate. And Tess being the wonderful person she is and not letting them get away with anything.

It’s the fact that they think they’re subtle, that really gets her.

Not that Tess is upset to find Jamie crashing with them the week following graduation. Of course Jamie is crashing with them. Where else would she go, now that Dani “it’s important to grow up and change and learn who you really are, or some such bull” Clayton has finally snapped up the hot gardener of her dreams? Honestly, if Dani let her walk out that door--especially after that first night, which, hello, gardener; these walls aren’t half as thick as they apparently think--she’d have forfeited all rights to sanity, and Tess would have no choice but to make her move instead.

No, she isn’t upset to find Jamie still here the following morning. Or at all. She loves Jamie. What’s not to love?

Honestly, so much to love. If she didn’t love Dani even more, she might have to really test the bounds of this friendship. Particularly when she opens her bedroom door to find Jamie--hair rumpled, dressed in a half-unbuttoned flannel and a pair of boxer shorts--at the kitchen counter. Like, warn a woman.

“Warn you about what?” Jamie looks blank, her hands prying open each cupboard with evidently-mounting disappointment. “You really don’t have any tea?”

“Warn a woman,” Tess repeats, hip-checking her gently out of the way and scrounging the supply of English Breakfast out from behind the stoner snacks. “Before you turn up in her kitchen looking all sex-rumpled. I haven’t even had coffee, Taylor, Jesus.”

Jamie blinks, taking the box from her hands. “O...kay. How was the rest of the party?”

“Not nearly as engaging as your night,” Tess informs her pleasantly, delighted when Jamie’s sleep-muddled expression lights up with embarrassment. “But an extravaganza in its own right all the same. Where’s my girl? I know you railed her into next week, but it seems bad manners to leave you to breakfast alone.”

“I didn’t--we--”

“Thin walls,” Tess sing-songs. “Like paper. Or, what, you’re English--parchment?”

“We have paper,” Jamie deadpans. Tess pats her shoulder, working around her to fill the kettle.

“Good fortune really does smile upon you. Ah! Sleeping Beauty arises!”

Dani, looking only slightly more functional than Jamie, is emerging from the bathroom with an expression that suggests she, at least, is very aware of the acoustics of their apartment. It’s so tempting to tease her about it--Dani has this truly adorable habit of looking like she might combust if pushed too far, the red of her face complimented nicely by the gold of her hair--but Tess figures some things can wait. Lord knows they’re going to walk right into it soon enough.

But like--so soon. Like, she goes off to take a shower, and comes back to find they still haven’t left the kitchen soon.

“Seriously?” She laughs, watching them leap apart. It’s too clear Dani has forgone the idea of coffee and bacon for the much-more-invigorating art of pushing Jamie against the refrigerator. Not that Tess can blame her.

“We--were just--”

“Right in front of my cereal,” Tess says gravely, shaking her head in faux-disappointment as she stretches over Jamie--whose hands are still rooted to Dani’s hips, the hem of Dani’s shirt dropping hastily back over her stomach--to retrieve a box of off-brand Lucky Charms. “No shame.”

They’re both making noises of disagreement, as though Tess hasn’t had her share of groping in the kitchen experiences to call on. She snorts.

“Look, far be it from me to stop your, ah, young love in its tracks. Just. Keep it out of my bedroom, is all I ask. Unless...” She wiggles her eyebrows. Jamie clears her throat so violently, it sounds as though she might fracture something.

“Shower. Should. I.”

“That sentence normally goes in the other direction,” says Tess helpfully. Dani swats her back, grinning.

“Got that out of your system yet?”

“Oh, not nearly.” Tess beams. “By all means, Clayton, show her where the shower lives.”

“I know where the,” Jamie begins to protest, but Dani is slipping both arms around her middle, pressing against her back to urge her toward the bathroom.

“That’s her polite way of saying if I don’t go with you now, she’s going to spend the next half hour fishing for details.”

“You still owe me those,” Tess calls after them. “Every last filthy one.”

***

They think the shower is noise-cancelling, too, Tess realizes about four minutes later. Jesus, these beautiful useless idiots.

***

It’s the lack of subtlety masquerading as Chill, really. The fact that every single time Tess leaves a room, she can count slowly to ten, poke her head back out, and find they’ve picked right back up where last she interrupted.

Step into the bedroom to change her clothes? Come back out to find Dani straddling Jamie on the couch.

Take a quick smoke break on the stairs out front? Glance through the window to find Jamie shirtless, the unmistakable tread of scratches running down her back beneath her bra.

Offer to run out for lunch? Spend an extra five minutes idly counting clouds, because fuck only knows the sounds Dani is making isn’t karaoke.

“You two,” she announces, tossing the pizza box onto the counter with a flourish, “are going to break something if you keep this up. I mean, you’re at least taking hydration breaks, I hope? Do I need to bring you a power bar?”

Jamie has the decency to look slightly ashamed of herself, though there’s a definite grin beneath the hunched shoulders. Dani, selecting a slice of pepperoni-and-banana-peppers, shrugs.

“Consider it payback?”

“For who?” Tess demands, delighted. Dani raises her free hand, ticking her fingers down toward her palm.

“Tyler, whose butt I saw like ten minutes before you introduced us. May, who you used to desecrate the kitchen floor. Carlos and Beth--”

“Liz,” Tess interrupts, “she goes by Liz these days.”

“--Liz, with whom you conveniently forgot I needed to shower before my presentation and took up the bathroom for three hours--”

“Okay, okay,” Tess snorts, groping for a dishtowel in some shade of off-white to wave. “Truce.”

“And that’s just this apartment,” Dani says cheerfully. She tilts her head to look at Jamie, whose face can best be described as aghast. “Back in the dorm, she used to sneak girls in after I was asleep.”

“You were a sound sleeper!”

“No one is sound enough to ignore a bed frame breaking, Tess.”

“I...avoiding college was the right choice,” Jamie says weakly. Tess bats her eyes.

“You’re saying you’ve never dreamed of breaking a bed frame with me, Taylor?”

Jamie darts a look around at Dani, her eyes just shy of screaming. Tess is having the best time of her life.

***

“Tell me honestly, though,” she says. Jamie gives her a sharp look, uncertainty obvious even as she reaches to accept the joint Tess is passing her way.

“Really don’t think Dani wants me giving you a play by play.”

“Dani, beloved of my soul, was fool enough to schedule a doctor’s appointment while you were still in town. She knows what I’m about.”

To Jamie’s credit, she doesn’t choke this time. She puffs once, twice, holding the smoke in her lungs an impressively long time before craning her head back and exhaling. "What am I telling you honestly?”

“You’re going to keep an eye on her, right?”

Jamie looks surprised. “Yeah. Not that she needs it, mind. Just. Yeah. Always.”

Tess sighs. “She doesn’t need it, but you know as well as I what that woman is like. Too good. Too fucking good for her own good, you know? Forgets, sometimes, that she can come first, too.”

Jamie offers a smile nearly wicked in its amusement. “Oh, I take care of that.”

“Yes,” Tess drawls, “darling, I can tell. You know, really relieved she never brought anyone home before now. I’m not sure my beauty sleep could have taken the abuse.”

Jamie laughs, leaning back and pulling a throw pillow into a loose embrace. “She doesn’t need anyone taking care of her. But...”

“But you can’t help wanting to, anyway,” Tess guesses. When Jamie nods, she takes another hit, lets the smoke burn in her chest. “She has that effect on people. Our girl would take a bullet for anyone, and it’s...impossible not to love her for it.”

“She’s the reason,” Jamie says softly, “I didn’t run. Reason I did a lot of things, some of ‘em really, really stupid. Sometimes I think everything I’ve ever done can be traced back home to her, one way or another.”

“That, my dear,” Tess says, “is what fools and songstresses alike call love, I think. Just...do me a favor, keep her from killing herself for those kids.”

Jamie nods. “I will. Promise.”

“Good,” Tess says lightly. “I like you, Jamie. You’ve got the hands of a sinner and the smile of a saint. I’d really hate to have to track you down and kill you for doing her wrong.”

***

For all the sex, and all the blushing that follows, it’s late nights like this one that really say it all. Nights where cards fade into lazy conversation fade into this: Jamie, asleep on the couch, her head resting in Dani’s lap. Dani, looking down at her like she’s never felt so at home in her own skin.

And Tess, watching them both, astonished by the lack of fear in the room. The lack of distance. The lack of uncertainty.

Dani, who has always been a nervous sort, whose panic attacks are so predictable on bad weeks, Tess came back from that first Christmas break with a laundry list of coping methods to offer--looks perfectly at peace. Her fingers stroke back Jamie’s hair, tracing her forehead, her nose, every brush of contact only seeming to sink Jamie deeper into dream. Dani has never looked like this before.

“You’re happy,” Tess says quietly. Not a question. Not a challenge. Dani smiles.

“Part of me thought she’d get sick of it, you know. Waiting for me.”

“Who could get sick of you?” Tess asks, and means it. No one in the world stacks up to Dani, on a list of favorite people. No one in the world ever could. If Jamie really did fall ass over teakettle for this woman when they were barely old enough to know what love was, she couldn’t be blamed for it. Not for a second.

“You’ll invite me to the wedding, of course,” Tess says, when Dani--eyes closed, fingers still tracing aimlessly--says nothing for a while. One blue eye emerges, her nose scrunching up.

“Jumping ahead, aren’t you?”

“She’d do it here and now, if you asked. Shit, I could get ordained, do it for you. Always thought I’d look nice in a little suit.”

“You’d be gorgeous,” Dani says, without a hint of deprecation. Tess blows her a kiss. “And...yes. If and when, I can’t imagine doing it without you.”

“As officiant?”

“I was thinking maid of honor,” Dani laughs. Tess leans back, smiling.

“That’ll do.”

The silence creeps in again, the sleepy indulgence of post-midnight living that feels so perfectly suited to the college experience. Nothing else, Tess suspects, will ever be quite this again--the quiet feeling like peace, the weariness feeling earned, not crushing. Jamie breathes out in her sleep, one hand drifting to gently grasp the hem of Dani’s shirt.

“Gonna miss you,” Tess says softly. “And this one, too.”

Dani smiles, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “It won’t be the same again, will it?”

“Nope.” And maybe that’s a good thing, she thinks. Maybe that’s exactly how it should be. Growing up. Changing. Learning who they ought to be. “But you’ll call.”

“And write,” Dani agrees.

“And send me pictures of your hot gardener,” Tess adds. “Lord knows, it’d be a crying shame to forget that.”

Dani laughs. “Never.”

“You did good, Clayton. Took you a minute, but--you did good.”

She lets the silence settle for real, lets Jamie sleep and Dani doze, lets herself sink into the armchair. They aren’t subtle, it’s true--she’ll probably wake tomorrow to find they’ve opted for a quiet round of the most wall-shaking sex she’s ever heard in Dani’s room--but that feels right, somehow. Good, to see Dani refusing to make herself small. Great, to see Dani refusing to temper an emotion this grand.

“I love you idiots,” she says softly. “You’re going to be just fuckin’ fine.”

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #damie #AU one-shot #welcome back Tess I've missed you #love an OC I enjoy almost as much as the canon kids

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lucky-bucky-boy · 5 years ago

Text

Cruel Summer

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: Based loosely off of Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift; You shouldn’t have given in, shouldn’t have caved to him. But what could you say? Some people were just too irresistible. But one too many bad choices lead to tension that even the worst of the worst couldn’t bare.

Word Count: 5473

Warnings: Angst, smut, dom/sub elements, daddy kink, dirty talk, very slight age gap, please let me know if I missed any

A/N: Tags are at the bottom. Please please please let me know what you think, this writing style is a bit out of my comfort zone. I’m trying some new things out before writing my book and really need all the feedback possible. Positive and constructive please. NO spoilers, taking place before the events of Knives Out, age difference of Meg and Ransom was skewed to fit timeline/idea // Read on AO3 here

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs welcomed and highly appreciated!

The wintery chill of the evening Massachusetts air threatened to seep in, blowing harshly against the windowpanes and spinning it’s way through every bare branch and thickly coated pine tree on the property. A typical monthly gathering of family and those like family, a gun show and jab contest dressed up to look like a quiet evening around the fire with loved ones and good food.

Gazes darted around the room, a tension so palpable it made even the Thrombey family uncomfortable. No one could quite place why though, or even which pair was causing the air to thicken. A typically thin lipped, on edge, cut throat monthly dinner was somehow even more treacherous this time around.

But no one would have guessed that it involved you. Usually revered as the quiet one, the one who steered away from trouble and left before the tension boiled over, the girl who brought bright smiles and a sharp mind, Meg’s best friend since diapers, your father’s accomplished author for a daughter; not one person would have even thought to have blinked an eye in your direction.

But no one in that room knew why the air was so thick you could taste it, why the sound of the metal knives scraping against expensive glass plates was more bearable than breathing in the smog of tension. One wrong move and-

“So, what’s got everyone’s knickers in a twist, huh?” The smug, faux caring, intoxicating drawl that got you in this mess.

The flood gates were open now. Everyone talking over the other, talking louder and louder, unknowingly looking for the cause of the uncomfortable feeling that sat low in their bellies. It didn’t last too long, maybe over a minute before it fell silent enough that you could hear the wind whistling outside.

Even with your gaze downcast to your plate you could feel everyone turn to look at you, eyes judging and calculating, picking apart every move, ever wrinkle in your clothes, and twitch of a muscle.

“You’ve been quiet,” it was your father speaking now, and for the first time you were thankful for that, “What’s new with you, dear? How’s your third book coming along?”

A shrug as you met his gaze, a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s coming.” Your tone was practically unreadable, unamused and almost annoyed.

A snicker from the other end of the table had all of you snapping your heads in the direction of the noise. A shit eating grin was plastered on Ransom’s face, eyes glinting with mischief. You tried your damnedest not to notice how the ruby color of his scarf brought out the ocean blues you got lost in too many times, or how the cream color of his worn sweater was practically taunting you with every memory of you in that sweater. But you knew him, you knew him too well for your own liking, for your own good. And you knew he did things with a purpose.

“What’s so funny?” His mother snapped at him, his lips pulling into that smirk that had you at his will one too many times.

“Just never thought I’d hear little ol’ (Y/N) say something along those lines again.”

Pin drop. Silence and shock coursed through every fiber of every person sitting at that table. Confused glances between the two of you, unnerved and in disbelief.

“What the hell, Ransom? Why do you-” Meg started, voice loud and higher than usual in agitation.

But you cut her off, staring back at the man who seemingly was doing whatever he could to get under your skin. “Hugh, if you’ve decided you’re going to tell a story, at least make sure to tell the fucking truth.”

A few hushed gasps echoed around the table as Ransom matched your stare. “Oh, come on, sweetheart. You know that’s not what I like you calling me.”

You scoffed, “You lost the privilege of me calling you what you want the day you told me to leave.”

“As if you didn’t want it just as badly. I seem to recall rather clearly you begging for me.”

“And I seem to recall rather clearly you telling me to get my shit and get the fuck out.” You snapped, feeling your skin heat with embarrassment and agitation. No one was supposed to find out like this, no one was supposed to find out at all.

Ransom stood suddenly, stalking over to you, eyes never leaving yours. He towered over your sitting figure for a moment, trying to melt your resolve before he leaned down, face only inches away from yours. The musky vanilla and cedar scent of his cologne, the mintiness of his breath with a hint of whiskey, the warm scent of clean cotton from his clothes, it was all almost too much. “Let’s get this straight, baby girl,” the nickname was taunting you like a schoolyard insult, “we had an arrangement. That arrangement didn’t involve feelings. You ruined that.”

“Yeah, because me loving you is the worst thing you ever heard.” You stood as well, at your wits end with this situation, with him, “Dumbest mistake of my life was thinking how you felt when you were drunk was how you felt when you were sober. Fuck you, Ransom."

He stood back some, moving out of your way as you grabbed your jacket off of the back of your chair, storming out of the too warm mansion and into the freezing cold. Ransom’s voice followed after you, "Don’t forget you already did, sweetheart.”

Notification after notification, endless vibration making you want to pull your hair out. A long drive home with a clenched jaw and a white knuckle grip on the steering wheel. The day couldn’t be over soon enough, an escape from the embarrassment and misery of that excuse of a dinner much too far away for your liking.

The hope that your apartment would have been your ticket to peace and quiet was quickly destroyed when there was banging on the door. A huff as you trudged out of the blankets on the couch to the door, swinging it open to see a distraught Meg.

“What the hell was that about?”

There it went, any bit of resolve and composure went out that front door when she took a step in. Tears quickly welled in your eyes, falling in little streams down your face. The agitation on her face was quickly replaced with worry as she wrapped you in a hug, “Hey, hey, no need for that. Come on. Let’s get you something to drink and then I want you to tell me what that was all about, okay? I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on, alright?”

She walked you through the kitchen, making you both a cup of hot tea and grabbing a handful of snacks before steering you back towards the couch, sitting the both of you down. Meg’s eyes filled with relief as she watched you sip at the warm liquid, sniffling softly as you calmed yourself down.

“Okay, start from the beginning. What happened?”

Warm, low lights, a soft thumping from the outdated speakers, a happy, giddy atmosphere floating over the table. A small, cheesy banner sat taped to the edge of the booth, bright tacky colors spelling out “Congratulations”. Two of your friend sat with you in the rounded corner booth, your leg sticking out to the side and bouncing with slight anticipation. Even though you requested a small thing, your beloved friends Shelby and Laura had a hard time doing things small.

But they insisted it wasn’t a lot. Meg was off studying for finals and wouldn’t be able to make it so instead Shelby invited her boyfriend Jay and told him to bring a friend or two along. And not to forget the cake. Their last phone call twenty minutes ago consisted of reiterating the confirmation over and over again. You’re on your way? Awesome great. Who’d you bring? Okay. Did you get the cake? Okay. Don’t forget the cake. Okay. Don’t ruin the cake. Okay you’re sure the cake is okay?

Laura and you couldn’t help but giggle at her, anxiety and anticipation evident in her features as she checked her phone again and again, eyes darting to the entrance waiting for her boyfriend and his friends to enter the hole in the wall bar with that god damn cake.

Excusing yourself to the bathroom seemed to speed up the time because as you returned you nearly tripped over yourself. There was Shelby, cuddled up next to Jay. And Jay had two men sitting next to him, one you didn’t recognize and one you knew all too well. Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

A man you hadn’t seen in easily a year or two. He had began to skip out on family dinners, tired of the endless drama and bore of it all. Even when the family took their yearly vacation together and during the holiday parties he somehow managed to not be anywhere insight, despite his mother insisting he was there.

“Look at you, little (Y/N), all grown up now.” His eyes shamelessly raked over your figure, taking in how your body had changed over the years, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, brat. Since before you published the first book.”

You huffed out an anxious laugh, nodding as you took your seat at the end of the booth, opposite of him. “Y-yeah, it’s been a while. You kinda stopped coming around.”

“Can you blame me? My family would make anyway go insane. I’m surprised yours has stayed around as long as they have. But enough about me, sweetheart, from what I’ve been told we’re here to celebrate you-”

Shelby squealed some, “Yep! And that’s why,” she hung onto the end of the word as she lifted the lid of the box that was now sitting in the center of the table. Once the top was off, the sides fell down, revealing a cake decorated to look like a book with the title of your second book you had just published on it. The whole reason you all were here.

Your heart swelled at the gesture, “Aw! Shelbs! Thank you so much!” You gave her a small little pout, “God I’m gonna cry. I can’t believe I actually did that. Twice now!”

Laughter erupted around the table, the group continuing to shower you in drinks, gifts, and affection. Jay bought you a drink and some food, Laura had gotten you a customized journal with your favorite quote from the book on the front of it, Shelby kept giving you little cards with her favorite things about the books you’ve written in them. It wasn’t long until the group started to dwindle though. First Jay’s other friend who probably felt awkward, then Laura who had to work in the morning.

Ransom and Jay decided to play a round of pool before Jay and Shelby headed out for the night, and Shelby took the time to interrogate you.

“Oh. My. God. He is so fucking hot. How the hell do you know him? You never leave your apartment.” She fawned over Ransom, who currently had his back to the two of you at the other side of the bar.

You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief. “First off, you have a boyfriend,” your reprimanded playfully. “Second, that’s Meg’s older cousin. He’s like 4 or 5 years older than us. Spoilt brat. Never worked a day in his life. Third, before you even suggest it because I see that look in your eye. I’m not sleeping with him. I didn’t even let him buy me a drink when he offered let alone going home with him.”

She pouted at you, “Come on, (Y/N/N), you’ve been so stressed with the editing and the publishing. Just have a little fun.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning over and grabbing a nacho to throw into your mouth. “The only fun I need after all this is my handy dandy blue vibrator under my bed. No need to go home with him.”

She scoffed. “Fiiiine, whatever. I still think he’s hot.”

The two men came back a few minutes later, laughing loudly and teasing one another. It was odd, rare even to see Ransom genuinely laughing, whole chest vibrating with the motion, genuine happiness seeping off of him. Jay collected his things as did Shelby, both bidding you a goodnight, Shelby throwing a wink in as well as they exited.

“Then there was two,” Ransom drawled, smirking lazily at you as he finished off his drink. “Come on, (Y/N/N), let me buy you a drink.”

You smiled, huffing out a small laugh as you shook your head. “I’m good, Ransom. Really.”

“After all those years of you stealing my stash I’m actually willing to buy you a drink and you’re telling me no?”

You rolled your eyes, butterflies beginning to swarm inside you. “I’m telling you no because I still have at least a thirty minute uber ride home and don’t want to be overly intoxicated. The only thing I want right now it a plate of pancakes and some greasy hash browns.”

“Then let’s go get some,” he offered, a somewhat uncharacteristically sweet smile replacing his smirk. “Look, I haven’t seen you in a while and you just accomplished something so let me at least try to do something nice.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You? Hugh Ransom Drysdale? Do something nice? Oh I must be dead.” He pouted at you, the slight disappointed look in his blue eyes sending you reeling. “Fine. I won’t pass up on an offer like that. Just make sure you take me somewhere good."

Thirty minutes later you sat in a small diner that was essentially in the middle of nowhere. The name GiGi’s was in neon pink light on top the structure that looked like it was plucked out of Grease. A few semi-trucks littered the parking lot and only a couple of faces of customers sat in the diner.

Ransom had already threw you for a loop, opening doors for you, turning the music down to ask you about your book; and not just what it was about, but what inspired you to write it, what was your muse. He had let you pick the seat and even ordered for you when the waitress came over. Two breakfast samplers with extra crispy hash browns, and two strawberry milkshakes because ‘why not? It’ll be just like when we were kids’.

You were beyond shocked at how comfortable you felt around him. No awkwardness or anxiety that had hit you earlier. It was simple, felt easy, felt right.

"So, I have to ask, why are you suddenly being nice to me?” The question was simple enough, lips wrapping around the straw of the milkshake after you asked, watching him and waiting.

“Was I ever not nice to you?” He asked, bemused and quirking an eyebrow at you.

Swallowing down the cold liquid you scoffed. “Seriously? You’ve been a dick to me since I was like 12 or 13. Whenever you started hanging out with that one guy in high school - Chuck? I think. Anyways, it got even worse after you turned 21. You pretty much outright refused to acknowledge my existence."

He pursed his lips as he thought about it, "I- okay yeah, you’re right. I did do that- but in my defense I stopped acknowledging you because I thought you were hot and I was older so it was creepy and just easier to ignore you.”

You blinked a few times, shocked and processing what he had just said, “You what?”

He shrugged, taking a bite of his food. “Yep. And Chuck thought you guys were annoying so I dunno, guess I thought being a dick would keep you guys from pestering me.”

You couldn’t help but glare at him softly. “Then why did you come out tonight to celebrate my book? And offer to buy me drinks and food?”

Ransom suddenly looked a lot less relaxed, stern and serious as he kept his gaze on you. “Do you really want to know?”

“I asked, didn’t I?” You challenged back, heart thumping in your chest.

He broke out into a huge grin, chuckling some, “Still not the one to ever back down from me. God, I love it. The reason I came out tonight was because, whether you believe it or not, I’m actually a fan of your writing. I have two copies of your first book and I already preordered the second. The reason I stayed out is because I realized how much I missed you. Most of my favorite memories from when I was younger involve you.”

“Really?” You inquired, munching on the food in front of you. “Like what?”

“Should’ve known you wouldn’t have let that one slide.” He chuckled softly. “One of my favorite memories is when I was probably 10 or 11, I think you and Meg had just started school. And you guys were learning about the stars and space and for some reason I was really obsessed with astronomy at the time. So one night, Meg, you, and I decided to camp out back of granddad’s and mom set a fire up for us and we sat there for hours roasting marshmallows and me teaching you guys about the constellations.”

A bright smile spread across your lips, so big it practically hurt. “I’m surprised you even remember that.”

“Hey, what can I say? I’m a man full of surprises who aims to please.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

Once the bill came, Ransom didn’t even let you see it, immediately pulling out some cash and handing it to the waitress, telling her to keep the change. He watched as you pulled out your phone, opening the uber app. “What’re you doing?” He asked quizzically.

“Calling myself a ride.” You answered, not even looking up.

“Nuh uh,” he shook his head, reaching over and grabbing the phone from you. “I’ll take you home.”

“But my apartment is like 45 minutes away and your house is down the street,” you protested.

“Then stay at my house tonight and I’ll take you home in the morning. I’ll sleep on the couch, you can take the bed.”

You quirked an eyebrow, obviously not believing him. “You sleeping on the couch? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” He promised, offering you a warm smile. “Now, am I taking you home or are you staying at my house?”

“…I’ll stay at your place,” you mumbled.

Something about Ransom’s house felt oddly comforting. The large window at the front of the living room let the moonlight stream in, the darker colors that the walls were painted contrasting beautifully with every sleek modern piece of furniture he had. It was obvious his family influenced his taste some. The intricate designs on the patterns of the throw pillows something you could very easily see Halarn buying, while his kitchen was practically black, white, and silver - looking like it popped out of the modern section of an HGTV magazine. But it all flowed and melded together beautifully.

He showed you to his room, grabbing himself a change of clothes before heading out and leaving you alone. You couldn’t help but stand there and take in your surroundings. Being in there, even without him, felt intimate. Like he was showing you a secret page in a book he loved. A few pictures were on his dresser, various ones or him at parties with friends, one of the family which was smaller than the others. It was neat, clean and tidy but most likely because of a maid and not because he took the time out to clean up his mess. And it smelled of him, everything in the room just breathed Ransom.

Sitting down on the bed, you kicked your shoes off, sitting them down by the end before lying down and attempting to get comfortable. But to no avail, you tossed and turned for a few moments, and despite the softness of the mattress and sheets below you, you felt uncomfortable. Jeans too tight, bra irritating your skin, face feeling oily and heavy. You needed a shower and a change of clothes if you wanted to even think of falling asleep.

Hesitantly you made you way back downstairs, where Ransom was currently sitting in a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt, book in hand. You didn’t even have to say anything, his eyes moved from the book to you, cocking an eyebrow, “Guessing you need a shower and some comfy clothes?"

You nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, kind feel blah after the bar and greasy food.”

“That’s okay. Towels and wash rags are in the standing closet in the bathroom. Both bathrooms with have them but the master bathroom has better shower pressure. Just take something out of my closet to wear for the night.”

You nodded a thank you and headed back upstairs, grabbing the first sweater you saw in his closet and heading into the bathroom. A part of you felt as if you were dreaming, that this wasn’t actually happening. Any residual crush you had on Ransom from your childhood was coming back full force, and doubling all at one. A quick shower you hoped would calm your slightly growing nerves, but drying off and slipping on the damned creme colored sweater you knew you were hopeless. It smelled like him, was warm and soft.

Before you could stop yourself you were padding back down the steps, not caring that the sweater barely covered your ass and that you hadn’t bothered with any underwear. Ransom was staring at you before had even looked at him, eyes taking in the sight of you in nothing else but his sweater, jaw set tight with a slight tick. “Whatcha doing there, sweetheart?” He urged, trying to keep his composure.

You sat on your knees next to him on the couch, staring at him for a moment. “Debating if I should do something I’ll probably regret in the morning.”

He smirked, “I promise if you’re gonna do what I think, you won’t regret it. You can hold me to that.”

“Then make sure I don’t-” you leaned forward, closing the distance between the two of you and pressing your lips against his. The fullness of his pouty lower lip slotted between yours, kissing you in a way you had never been kissed before, completely and utterly stealing your breath and any logical thought from you.

His hands were on your hips, pulling you into his lap, groaning softly against your lips at the feel of your smooth skin in his hand. It was a battle of tongues for dominance, which you quickly surrendered at the feel of him gripping your ass, kneading and pulling before spanking the plump flesh.

He pulled away first, a wild look in his eyes. “Get your ass upstairs, baby girl. Daddy’s gonna make sure you don’t regret a thing.”

A shiver went up your spine and you squealed softly before giggling, high on adrenaline and him. You stole another kiss before running upstairs to his room, heart pounding and mind racing.

Ransom came in a few moments later, quickly discarding his shirt and tossing it in the direction of the hamper before stalking towards you. He moved to hover over you, lips dancing along the skin of your neck. “God fucking damn it, baby girl, seeing you in my clothes - fuck you’re gonna drive me crazy.” He pressed a few kisses to the sensitive skin before biting down on the junction where your neck met your shoulder.

The whimpers and moans that left you spurred him on, lips continuing their worship of your skin as his hands traveled along the outside of your thighs and up to you hips. Fingers traced along to curve to your waist, up and over your breast as your nipples prickled at the sensation. He felt every movement, every time you squirmed, every time you squeezed your thighs together, every time you rutted.

“Can I take this off you, sweetheart? Make you feel real good, promise, baby.” A nod was all he needed and the moment you leaned up some he pulled the sweater off, tossing it aside. Ransom moved to lean back, moving to sit on his haunches, moving your thighs and spreading them to be on his clothed ones.

“Fuck, princess. You’re so fucking perfect. So fucking wet for me, I can already see it. You my little whore, hm?” He leaned down, pressing kisses against the skin of your chest.

A sudden slap to your thigh caused you to gasp. “What was that for?” You whined, moving to card your fingers through his hair.

“Speak when you’re spoken to or I’ll have to punish you.” The thought riled you up even more. Being splayed across his lap, hand coming down on you as you squirmed relentlessly, taking every bit of the 'punishment’. But that was for another time, hopefully. Right now you wanted, no needed him.

“Sorry, daddy.” Your voice was so soft and innocent, absolutely driving him wild.

He wanted nothing more than to ram into you, make you scream. But not yet, he wasn’t done teasing. Ransom’s lips moved from the skin of your chest to you nipples, pressing a chaste kiss on one before moving to the other and back again. Back and forth as the motions increased. A kiss to a flick to a suck to a nibble.

His lips begin to move south, nipping at the soft skin along the way. “Absolutely stunning.” He hummed, “Better than I could have imagined, pretty girl.” Soon he was situated between your legs, breath fanning over your soaked folds. A soft groan left Ransom, kissing at the skin of your thighs. “Smell so good, gonna taste even better I guarantee it.”

“Stop teasing,” you whined, tugging on his hair.

He looked up at you, “Baby, that’s not how this works,” he tsked softly. “You want something, you need to beg.”

Another deep throaty whine ripped from you. “Please,” you whimpered, squirming. “Fuck please, need you."

He chuckled softly, "I’ll let you off this time - Wanna taste this pretty little pussy.” Without any other warning he delved into your cunt, licking a stripe from entrance to clit before suckling on the little nub. He licked and sucked and nibbled, two fingers prodded your entrance before pushing in to the second knuckle, curling and immediately finding that spot that made you see star.

Ransom basked in your mewls, the feel of you tugging on his hair before your grip would loosen as your eyes rolled into the back of your skull. Talented was an understatement and a part of you hated how good it was, how good he was treating you.

He didn’t stop, determined to coax an orgasm out of you. Fingers moved swiftly, in and out, scissoring and curling. Lips worked in tandem, listening to your cries of pleasure to determine what you really liked and kept at it. It wasn’t long before your toes were curling, back arching off the bed in a loud moan, his name like a prayer on your lips.

“Ransom,” you whimpered as the aftershocks rolled through you, his lips never leaving your core, “fuck, Ransom, daddy please. Want your cock.”

He pulled away, pressing one last chaste kiss to your clit before moving to kiss you, letting you taste yourself as he pulled his sweats down and kicked them off. Your hands quickly moved to his length, stroking softly and moaning against his lips.

“You’re so big,” the little whine caused him to chuckle softly as he pulled away, leaning over to pull a condom out of his bedside table.

“Yeah? Think I’m big, baby girl? Want me to split you in two?” The cockiness in his voice only added to how much you wanted him.

All you could do was nod, looking up at him with a pouty lip and wide eyes. “Please, fuck me, wanna cum on your cock.”

He growled softly, pulling the condom on and lining himself up with your entrance. Ransom teased, moving the head to hook your clit a few times, loving the little jolt and whine that would come from you. He pushed in, slow at first to let you accommodate to his girth, then a quick thrust to bury himself to the hilt, feeling as though he was hitting your cervix.

If you had ever wondered why Ransom was a playboy, why he was so cocky and self assured, you knew why now. He pulled out almost fully before slamming back in, angling his hips to hit that spot that had your legs quaking every time he pushed back in. Each push and pull had your head reeling, moans falling freely from your lips as you scratched helplessly at his back for purchase. One of Ransom’s hands snaked between the two of you, flicking your clit in time with his thrusts.

With his face buried in the crook of your neck, he growled out words into your skin, pushing you closer and closer to the edge;

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Perfect fucking pussy, squeezing me so good.”

“You were made for this, made for me. Weren’t you baby girl?”

“Come on, princess. Cum on Daddy’s cock. Show me how much you love it.”

One particularly rough thrust paired with a bite to your sensitive skin had you tipping over the edge, mouth open in a silent scream as your toes curled and thighs squeezed his waist. A few more sloppy thrusts and he emptied himself in the condom, groaning and moaning low in his chest.

A few moments of breathing, neither of you bothering to move as you came down from your highs. Ransom pressed a few kisses to your neck before taking what little breath you had away as he kissed you, an obvious heated passion still boiling beneath the surface. He pulled out while he lips where still on yours, swallowing down your whine before pulling away.

Ransom left the bed, your body quaking ever so slightly with aftershocks as he disappeared into the bathroom. He returned a few moments later, condom gone and holding a damp wash rag. He handed it to you, letting you clean yourself up as he slid back under the comforter, taking it from you when you were done and tossing it into the hamper.

Without as much as a word he pulled you into his side, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline. The two of you stayed quiet for what felt like forever, never quite falling asleep and taking in what exactly had just happened. Just as the sun began to break the night sky, he moved so he was facing you, lying on his side. Crystal clear blue eyes searched your face, a look of contemplation evident.

“Would you want to do that again?” He asked, voice almost hushed as if he was telling a secret.

You hesitated your answer, nodding softly, “Yeah, actually. I would.”

He smirked softly, “We’ll discuss the details after we sleep. But let’s just make sure no one finds out. Our little arrangement, okay?”

Meg stared at you, a look mixed between confusion, disbelief, and a little bit of disgust. “That was-” she sighed, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair, “That was a little more than I needed to know. Is he the mysterious guy you were seeing last summer?”

A small nod as you sipped at the tea more before looking at her, giving her a look that could only be compared to that of a kicked puppy. You watched as puzzle pieces fit together in her mind, slowly seeing the big picture.

“He’s the guy who bought you all that jewelry. And the guy that got you a dog - he hates dogs - The guy who took you to Maldives and Paris? What the-” her brows furrowed some, nibbling at her lip as you nodded in confirmation, “The guy that got drunk one night and told you he couldn’t live without you? That you were his everything?”

Her words sliced deep and you sniffled to keep yourself from crying again. “Yep,” your voice was still hoarse with emotions. “It was all Ransom.”

Meg sighed softly, her sympathy evident in every move and noise she made. “I’m so sorry… Do - do you still love him?”

Time seemed to freeze momentarily, every single memory whirling through your mind. With tears brimming your eyes again you looked at Meg, feeling utterly broken and lost. “I’m scared there won’t ever be a time where I don’t love him.”

Tags: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @et-lesailes @necromaniackat @dramaticsassmaster @bval-1 @writingoneficatatime @lokilvrr

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dex-xe · 4 years ago

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I’ve made Spotify playlists inspired by each of the ghosts and I’ve made these little written pieces to talk about them. if you wanna read them, please go ahead - if not then enjoy the music!!

This is Thomas' playlist:

If anyone actually reads these let me know, cause they take quite a while to write and while I will finish all of them cause I'm a perfectionist and want them all to be consistent but if anyone actually enjoys these let me know??

Friday I’m In Love - The Cure

This doesn’t really need an explanation, Robert Smith just “really speaks” to him. I think any love song probably speaks to Thomas to some degree but I’m glad he likes it.

I Should Be So Lucky - Kylie Minogue

He loves it so much he stole it. Genuinely that’s one of my favourite scenes when he performs it for Alison just because I love his little *hides face* “please send correspondence to Miss Minogue!”

You Belong With Me - Taylor Swift

We all know Thomas love a lovey pop song so like old Taylor Swift. He would dance to that over and over on repeat. He’d also appreciate the beauty of a modern love story like he does in Friends. Like the holding up the cards through the window in the music video would also remind him of Love Actually which he also loves.

Daydream Believer - The Monkees

This is Thomas’ world and we’re all just living in it. Daydreaming about Alison while not being able to do anything.

Girls Like You - Vitamin String Quartet

I said this with Kitty but it also applies to Thomas: the Bridgerton soundtrack fits nicely. Thomas would’ve been a teenager or have just come of age when Bridgerton was set so the balls and the season and everything would be the ultimate dream of Thomas who clearly loves things like that.

Venus As A Boy - Björk

Yes, this song is probably about just good sex but I also like to interpret it as being about the beauty of a man and the idea of feminine beauty (Venus) in the body of a man which I think is very Thomas who is obviously very in touch with the feminine side of beauty.

Dancing Queen - ABBA 

Thomas king of dancing at Button House, his little dances to The Cure and at the party are just so fucking cute?? King behaviour.

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart - Elton John & Kiki Dee

Self-explanatory but like love at first sight and everything.

Take A Chance On Me - ABBA

Do you reckon Thomas will ever clock that Alison truly doesn’t feel the same?? Cause she’s obviously not gonna take a chance on him and like she obviously shouldn’t cause Mike is 100000% better for her XD (not just because he’s alive…) but like will he ever properly clock that??

Creep - Radiohead

Ngl Thomas I adore you but you’re a creep, you’re a weirdo. I guess because he’s dead it doesn’t really matter that much that he’s thirsting over Alison but imagine being Alison. You’re living in this big old house with your incredibly loving and devoted husband and there’s just some dead guy in the corner like “i love you more than he does”. Thomas mate consider the consequences of your actions XD

Ever Fallen in Love (With Somebody You Shouldn’t’ve) - Buzzcocks

Self explanatory but like, I’ve just said imagine being Alison but on the other hand imagine being Thomas. You’ve been living in this big old house for literally two centuries when all of a sudden it’s invaded by a beautiful woman (Alison, my beloved) but you’re dead and literally can’t do anything about your feelings. Painful. So yeah, I don’t blame Thomas for a lot of his stuff cause like I know what it’s like to fall for someone you can’t have, it hurts, man.

Line Without a Hook - Ricky Montgomery

“She’s a - she’s a lady, and I am just a boy” I feel like the way Thomas loves Alison is like a little boy crush cause Thomas died young and inexperienced in the field of love despite literally obsessing over the concept of love in his poetry. He doesn’t understand the complexity of love as is shown when he’s like to Alison “leave him, kill yourself, marry me” or something like that like he really doesn’t understand love despite loving it. He’s not too far away from Kitty in that respect I guess, they both have quite childish, fairytale-like views of love.

I Think We’re Alone Now - Tiffany

“Alone at last” Thomas get the fuck outta the bath, man!! But yeah, this gives me 90s girls sleepover vibes like little whispered secrets in the dark and honestly I fully love that.

Can’t Help Falling in Love - Elvis Presley

Again one of the reasons I don’t entirely blame Thomas for his love for Alison is because often you really can’t help it.

You Can’t Hurry Love - The Supremes

Significantly better than the Phil Collins cover which seems to get more play?? But yeah just a great song, nothing really to say.

Boys Don’t Cry - The Cure

“As an English boy, you’re encouraged not to show your emotions” - Robert Smith. Thomas is very much the rejection of that and very over expressional of his emotions which tbh is way more healthy. Thank you Thomas, boys do in fact cry (if they don’t then good lord I guess I’m no longer a boy XD)

Oh Patti (Don’t Feel Sorry For Loverboy) - Scritti Politti

“Don't feel sorry for lover boy, he wants the world to love him, then he goes and spoils it all for love”.

This Charming Man - The Smiths

(This is one of the first songs I ever remember hearing, not relevant but it’s true) The idea of rejecting “alpha-masculinity” is I think super interesting and very telling for Thomas, like he rejects the idea of traditional masculinity but he does it by attacking those who embody that form of masculinity. Like calling men ‘philistines’ (it took me so long to figure out the spelling of that) for embodying traditional masculinity and I just find that super interesting. It’s like the idea of women supporting women and the rejection of the ‘pick-me’ girl and the ‘not like other girls’ girl in favour of supporting everyone regardless of what type of femininity or otherwise they choose to employ, one day hopefully Thomas will catch that idea and apply it to other men.

Sweater Weather - The Neighbourhood

Bi Thomas, that’s my reasoning. XD Nah it’s just a great song

My Melancholy Blues - Queen

Thomas’ sulking is genuinely just iconic like his sighing place and like when he gets interrupted in his sulking is the start of so many iconic lines.

#bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts thomas #Spotify

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