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rainisawriter · 1 year ago

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To Care for You – Murayama (PSF #20)

Ficography

Genre: Fluff, angst, slice of life

Prompt: Pumpkin (@flufftober)

Word Count: 5,515

Pairing: Reader x Murayama

World: High&Low

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

A fierce pounding on the front door made you jump, nearly falling off the couch. Your heart was racing within your chest as you got up, slowly approaching the door. “Who is it?”

“Open this damn door, Natsuki!”

Hearing your mom’s name made you frown, pain tugging at your heart. “I’m sorry but she… she no longer lives here.”

“Bullshit!” He hit the door harder, causing it to rattle. “Open this damn door or I’m going to break it down!”

You didn’t have the money to fix it if he did break it down, so you made the decision to open the door, the chain preventing him from bursting inside. He was a huge guy, easily towering over you. “Please… she’s no longer here.”

He seemed to calm down a bit upon seeing you, folding his arms over his chest. “Where did she go?”

“She… died. A week ago.”

“Died?” he repeated in surprise, brow furrowed. “How?”

“Hit and run. She was -” You stopped yourself, figuring that he didn’t need to know that she had been wasted and wandered into the road.

His eyes flickered to the apartment behind you. “You live alone, kid?”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “That’s none of your business…”

The man sighed, running a hand through his slicked-back black hair. “Listen, kid. Your mom owes my boss a lot of money. And now that she’s gone…”

“It falls on me,” you muttered flatly and he nodded.

He glanced around before moving closer, lowering his voice. “If I were you, I’d leave town. I’ll say that no one was home, but I won’t be the last one to come looking.”

“How much is the debt?”

“Five grand.”

“F-Five…” Your eyes widened, dread filling you. You didn’t have that kind of money! You were barely managing to scrape by as it was, every bit of your check going to bills and a little bit of food. With your mom gone, you didn’t have to worry about her wasting money on alcohol or partying with her friends, but that also meant you didn’t have the income from her job, either.

“For what it’s worth… I don’t think kids should inherit their parent’s debt,” he frowned, giving you a sympathetic look that had you scoffing.

“Yet you’re perfectly fine enforcing it.”

“We all do what we have to do to survive. Leave town before you get hurt.” And then he turned on his heel and walked away.

You closed the door, sliding down the wood until you hit the ground, a heavy sigh passing your lips. What the hell were you going to do? You honestly had no clue. He suggested that you leave town, but that required money, too. It’s not like you had any family to reach out to.

You closed your eyes, head falling back against the wood. “Even from the grave, you’re hell-bent on making my life as difficult as possible…”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

Murayama was lying across the couch in Oya’s gym, tossing a baseball into the air and catching it repeatedly. He was frustrated because you’ve been ghosting him lately, ignoring his calls and not responding to his texts. Every time he saw you, you were in a hurry and looking exhausted though you assured him that everything was fine. You were just busy with work.

He knew money was tight for you, especially after your mom passed away, but was it really so bad that you had to work constantly? He knew there was something you weren’t telling him and it was driving him crazy.

With a scowl, he tossed the ball onto the couch as he stood up, leaving the gym. He had decided he would wait inside your apartment until you got home and then he would demand answers. When he reached your apartment, though, he found the front door cracked open.

His brow furrowed as he stepped inside, calling out your name. The apartment was trashed, furniture broken and strewn across the floor. Drawers had been tossed, their contents sitting in piles. He screamed your name, fear gripping his heart as he began to search for you.

You were in the kitchen, resting against the cold tile floor, your back against the counter. Your face was bloody and bruised, brow furrowed in pain.

“Oi!” He cried, falling to his knees beside you. “What happened? Who did this?!”

You winced at his loud voice, pain shooting through your skull. “Do you have to be so damn loud?”

“Sorry,” he muttered, reaching out to brush his thumb across a cut on your cheek. “Tell me who did this.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” His brow furrowed suspiciously as he searched your tired eyes. “If you’re lying to me -“

“I’m not lying,” you muttered, leaning your head back to stare at the ceiling. “Apparently, my mom racked up quite the debt before she died. They can’t collect from a dead person so they need the next best thing.”

“Hah? You’re telling me debt collectors did this?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how they knew I got paid today…” You ran a hand down your face with a groan. “Rent is due tomorrow but they took everything… fuck, what am I gonna do, Shiki?”

Murayama shifted so that he was sitting beside you, carefully putting his arms around you. You didn’t hesitate to lean into his warmth, fingers curling around his t-shirt as you buried your face into his neck. He wanted to tell you it would be alright, but the words didn’t come.

Truth be told, he didn’t know that things would be alright. He certainly didn’t have any money and he had no idea who your mom owed money to. Something told him it wasn’t just some street gang and, as strong as Oya was, they weren’t ready to take on the Yakuza.

All he could do was hold you. He felt powerless and he hated it.

“Shiki?” you called softly, looking up at him tiredly.

“Yeah?” He cupped your cheek, loving how you leaned into his touch.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid. This is my problem, not – ouch!” You scowled when he flicked you lightly on the forehead, dark eyes narrowed at you.

“Your problems are my problems, idiot.”

“Yoshiki,” you stressed, sending him a serious look that made him want to squirm. “I can’t lose you, I… I can’t.”

“And you won’t.” He cupped your face, leaning his forehead against your own. “I won’t ever leave you, I promise.”

Your hands rested over his own. “Will you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone.”

He scoffed. “You really think I’m gonna let you be alone after this? If those bastards come near you again, I’ll kill them.”

“Shiki -“

“Safely. I’ll kill them safely.”

Despite yourself, you laughed at the ridiculous comment, the motion sending pain throughout your body. “Ah, it – ahaha – hurts to laugh.”

Murayama chuckled. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

You glanced at Murayama as he slept peacefully in your bed, hair falling over his eyes. You knew you should have woken him up because he didn’t want you to go anywhere alone, but he just looked so pretty that you couldn’t bear to wake him.

Plus, he had spent half the night cleaning up the apartment after you fell asleep and you felt as if he had earned the extra sleep. You smiled at him, brushing away the hair from his forehead so you could press a kiss there.

“Don’t be mad,” you whispered softly before leaving the apartment. You were on edge the entire way to Dan’s store but, thankfully, you made it there with no issue. He was restocking the fridge when you entered. “Morning, boss.”

“Good morni- what the hell happened?” His eyes widened when he turned to look at you, quickly putting the box on the ground before rushing over. Worry filled his brown eyes as he took in your injured face.

“I, uh,” you rubbed the back of your head, offering him a sheepish smile. “I fell down the stairs…”

Dan sent you a look, hand on his hip. He clearly didn’t believe you and rightfully so. He had dozens of fights under his belt and he knew what the injuries typically looked like. Those were definitely bruises created by fists, not stairs. It worried him because he had grown attached to you, but he knew how stubborn you were.

You had always been the type to keep things to yourself, to want to handle things on your own. He and the rest of Sannoh had been trying to help you with your mom for years, but you always refused. Murayama was the only one you had let in.

“Are you okay to work?”

Before you could answer, the bell above the door chimed, an older woman stepping inside. You smiled politely at her and she froze, wide eyes staring at your face. She quickly apologized before backing out of the store.

“Shit,” you muttered, frowning at the male. “Maybe I should work in the back today… I don’t want to scare your other customers.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled, gently patting your shoulder. “Can you finish stocking the fridge?”

“Sure, boss.” You offered him a grateful bow before heading over to the fridge, beginning to fill it with various drinks. You were nearly finished when you heard the bell above the door chime.

“Dan-san!” Oshiage and Shiba rushed inside, grins on their faces.

Dan looked up from the magazine he was reading, quirking a brow at the two girls. You approached the front curiously, carrying the empty box with you.

“Did you hear?” Oshiage slammed a flyer down onto the counter. “Daruma Ikka is hosting a huge festival during the last week of October!”

Dan scratched his cheek, frowning at the paper. “Having all five Sword gangs there is just asking for trouble.”

“You’re not gonna go, then?” wondered Shiba. “Even though they’re giving away money?”

“What?” You and Dan chorused in surprise.

“Yeah, there’s a -” Shiba stopped dead when she turned to look at you, an angry expression coming to her face. “Oi, did that Oya brat do that to you?”

Oshiage frowned, worry in her eyes. “Murayama would never do something like that… right?”

“Don’t worry,” you were able to offer them a genuine smile because their concern touched your heart. You had never really gotten along with Ichigo Milk, mostly because Junko hated you so, by default, the others didn’t like you, either.

Then there was the issue of Oshiage’s crush on Murayama. She had been super hurt when she learned how close the two of you were and Shiba had confronted you about it. You hadn’t even been aware of her crush, something they didn’t believe at first.

You’re not actually sure when things started to change but, over time, the three of you learned to tolerate and, on some small level, care about each other. Perhaps it was because of Dan and his store that brought the three of you together.

Shiba scoffed, hand on her hip. “You come here beat to hell and tell us not to worry? I oughta-” She raised her fist threateningly and you held up the box like a shield.

“I fell down the stairs,” you told them with a frown. “I was super tired because I didn’t get much sleep. I’m perfectly fine, though! I’m a fast healer, ya know?”

She didn’t look convinced.

You cleared your throat, approaching the counter. “Is Daruma really giving away money? That’s surprising.”

“You have to win it,” explained Oshiage as she leaned her arms on the counter. “It’s a pumpkin carving contest! The winner wins $5,000.”

Your eyes widened, the breath leaving your lungs. They had already taken about two hundred bucks from you, so that prize would cover the debt in full while still leaving you enough to pay part of your rent.

Dan noticed how you reacted to this information though he chose not to point it out. Money had always been an issue for you and he could only imagine it was worse with your mother gone.

“So… you just carve a pumpkin?” You questioned, eyes on the flyer.

Oshiage nodded. “The Daruma babies are gonna be the judges.”

“Oh… it, uh, it sounds fun.” You tried not to sound too excited as you headed into the back of the store to drop off the box. You knew you couldn’t pass up this opportunity, but… you had never carved a pumpkin before. It couldn’t be that hard, right?

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, a single message coming in from Murayama. It was an angry, frowning face to let you know that he was displeased at your decision not to wake him.

You chuckled, sending him an apology before getting back to work.

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“Why is this so hard?!” you groaned, stabbing the knife into the fruit with a scowl. You had gone through three pumpkins already and you had either butchered them or had been unable to pierce the surface. You had also cut yourself a few times, but they weren’t too deep.

You knew this wasn’t going to work, not if you wanted to win this contest.

Grabbing your coat, you headed out. The cool autumn wind was blowing softly, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. It did wonders to help your nerves since you never knew when the debt collectors would jump you again. So far, it had been a week and they hadn’t shown up again.

At first, Murayama had stuck by your side without fail and you appreciated his dedication and concern. You felt smothered, though, unable to do anything without him breathing down your neck. It sounded childish, but you didn’t want him to know about the contest. Perhaps you didn’t want him to get his hopes up because that would make it harder to swallow if you failed.

Either way, his presence was overwhelming and you needed a break. You expected more pushback when you told him you needed space, but he just agreed without a fuss. He had assigned Seki to watch over you from a distance, but the large male wasn’t exactly good at stealth. He was easy to lose and to distract.

You glanced at your phone to check the time before picking up your pace. The bookstore closed in a little less than an hour. It would take about fifteen minutes to get there, though, so you should have plenty of time to find the book you needed. Assuming said book even existed in the first place.

The bookstore was small and, currently, there were only a couple of people inside, browsing the selection. You scratched your cheek as you slowly headed down the aisles, scanning the signs listed above the shelves. Where would a how-to book on pumpkin carving even be? Education, perhaps?

You didn’t see it so you moved on, rounding the corner to check the next aisle only to run right into someone. “I’m so sorry!” You lifted your head, meeting Dan’s surprised eyes. “Boss? What are you doing here?”

Your eyes flickered to the cheap romance novel in his hands and he quickly hid it behind his back, cheeks darkening as he cleared his throat.

“Just browsing. You?”

You hesitated a moment, wondering if you should tell him. Well, it’s not like you have to tell him everything. “The truth is… that pumpkin carving contest sounds really fun and I want to enter, but… I’ve never actually carved one before. I was hoping I could find a book on it.”

He knew you were holding back on him, but he felt it wasn’t his place to pry for more information. “The Halloween section is in the back. It’ll probably be there.”

“Oh, I didn’t know there was one,” you chuckled, following the male toward the display.

There were loads of spooky titles on display, along with recipe books and Halloween history books. Both of you searched, but there wasn’t a single book about pumpkins or jack-o-lanterns.

You frowned. “Could they be somewhere else?”

Dan glanced at his watch. “The store closes soon. It’ll be quicker to just ask the owner.”

“Good point.” You followed him to the front of the store.

The owner was a kind, elderly man named Nakamoto who smiled at the two of you when you approached. “Ready to check out?”

“Actually,” started Dan. “Do you have any books about pumpkin carving?”

“I’m sorry,” His smile fell a bit as he looked between the two of you. “I just sold the last one about thirty minutes ago.”

Your spirits fell at this information. “Oh, I see. Thank you very much.” You bowed before quickly turning and heading for the door.

“Oi!” Dan called out your name, starting to follow you until he remembered the book in his hands. With a groan, he placed it on the counter, offering a promise to the man. “I’ll be back for this tomorrow, please don’t sell it!”

The man chuckled as he watched Dan run from the store, chasing after you.

You weren’t sure how to feel, honestly. The contest had given you hope, but now it felt as if that hope had been shattered.

“Wait up!” Dan grabbed your shoulder, a scowl on his lips. “If you want, I can help you.”

“Really? Are you good at it?” You looked at him pleadingly, making him chuckle.

“When I was a kid, I won the pumpkin carving contest at my school four years in a row.”

Your eyes widened, hands grasping the front of his hoodie. “Please teach me, boss!”

He smiled warmly, ruffling the top of your head. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be a pro.”

“Thank you so much!”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

“Is he still sulking?” questioned Nakazono, glancing at Oya’s leader before looking at his two friends. They were sitting at a makeshift table low to the ground, playing a game of cards.

Murayama was lying on the couch, staring blankly up at the tall ceiling of the gym. It’s the same place he had been since you told him you wanted space. As far as the Sanchu trio knew, the male hadn’t slept or eaten since falling on that couch two days ago.

“What do you think?” scoffed Nakabayashi as he tossed down one of his cards on the table. “You’d think he got dumped or something.”

Nakazono shrugged, sitting down at the table. “Did you hear about the party Daruma is throwing?”

Nakakuki hummed as he drew a card, observing his hand. “It’s a Halloween festival, right? They invited all of Sword, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be the biggest party Sword has ever seen.”

Nakabayashi wrinkled his nose at the card his friend had discarded because it was one number off from the one he needed. “It’s probably gonna be a chaotic mess.”

“Fighting has been banned. The Daruma babies will be surveilling to make sure no one causes any trouble.”

Nakakuki grinned as he picked up the discarded card before laying out a 2, 3, 4 and 5 of diamonds, a set of aces, and a set of 8s before discarding the last card he had. “I win.”

“Damn it, again?” scowled the male, tossing his cards onto the table. “Why are you so good at this?”

He snickered, holding out his hand. “Pay up, brother.”

Reluctantly, Nakabayashi pulled out his wallet, slapping a ten dollar bill against his friend’s palm.

“Speaking of money,” Nakazono pulled the flyer from his pocket, setting it on the table. “They’re hosting a pumpkin carving contest, too. The winner gets five grand!”

“Five grand?” Nakakuki’s eyes widened. “That’s cra-“

The flyer was snatched off the table, making the three males jump in surprise. Murayama held it with both hands, tired eyes staring at the information printed there. He immediately thought of you and how you could use that money.

His gaze snapped to the three part-timers and they were surprised by the fire that lingered in his eyes. “We’re entering that contest and we’re going to win!”

The trio exchanged a look, not understanding why he was suddenly so fired up. Furuya watched the younger male return to the sofa, seeming a bit more at ease than he had been a moment before. Though he had no idea why, he did know it had something to do with you. It was important to Murayama and that was enough for him.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

You took a deep breath, pacing back and forth as you waited for the contest to begin. With Dan’s guidance, you felt much more confident than you had a few days ago, but you were still nervous. If this didn’t work out, you had no idea what you were gonna do.

Though you hadn’t seen them, you could feel those thugs lingering just out of sight, watching you closely. Violence had been banned at the festival and they seemed to know that crossing Daruma was not wise. Still, their gaze was making you more nervous and you feared their presence would cause you to slip up.

On the opposite side of the festival, obscured by the sea of people, was Murayama and the other part-timers. The Sanchu trio and Seki were making the most of the festival, playing games and trying all the various snacks that were being offered.

Murayama couldn’t stop pacing, one arm folded over his chest while his free hand was resting against his chin. He was nervous because he knew how important this was. If he won this, he could single-handedly solve your money problems. He would be your hero, someone you knew you could depend on.

Most importantly, you’d be safe.

A hand rested on your shoulder and you jumped, heart leaping in your chest. You were afraid it was one of the goons.

“You’re gonna do fine.”

You released the breath you were holding at the sound of Dan’s voice. “I hope so.”

“You had a great teacher,” he grinned, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

Despite your nerves, you laughed at the comment. “You’re right. If I win -“

“Ah, ah,” he wagged his finger. “When you win.”

“When I win,” you corrected. “I’ll have to thank him with some lunch.”

The music dulled as a voice came over the loudspeaker. “The pumpkin carving contest is about to begin! Head to your assigned stations and get ready.”

Dan sent you an encouraging nod which you returned before heading toward the carving station. Because of the prize money, dozens of people had signed up for it and they had been forced to put everyone into groups to make it easier.

The contest was held in a large open field. At the back was a stage decorated with paper pumpkins and cute little ghosts. In front of the stage sat six super long tables, each table having cardboard dividers to create individual sections for each pumpkin. A piece of orange paper with a number had been taped to each section to indicate who was supposed to be where.

There was quite a bit of distance between each table and, since you were placed into group A while Murayama was placed in group F, neither of you realized that you were both occupying the same space with the same goal in mind. The two of you were so close, yet so far away.

The field had been cut off with caution tape to keep the crowd out of the way while the contestants worked.

Kato appeared on the stage, holding a bright red microphone. His eyes scanned the tables. “You have twenty minutes to carve your pumpkin. Incomplete designs will be docked points, so don’t get too ambitious! Your time begins… now!”

You took a deep breath, picking up the knife. You had given it a lot of thought and you had chosen a design that held a lot of meaning to you. That was the first lesson Dan had taught you. Anyone can carve a pumpkin, but people can feel the emotion put into that carving. The stronger the emotion, the bigger the impression on whoever sees it.

You tried not to focus on the timer above the stage as you carved the design into the fruit. Every time you made a mistake, you felt more frustrated with yourself but you kept with it, trying to make the mistakes blend in with the overall design. You just barely managed to get it finished before the timer buzzed.

“Drop the knives!” snapped Kato, glaring at the few people who kept trying to carve. “Step away from your stations and position yourselves on the other side of the caution tape so the judges can put in work.”

You bit your lip, sending the pumpkin one last look before heading for the caution tape to the right side of the field where Dan was waiting. He smiled encouragingly at you, offering you your favorite beverage for comfort.

You took it with a weary smile, thanking him. Part of you wanted to stay and wait for them to finish but, as you scanned the sheer amount of pumpkins, you knew doing so would kill you. It was better to do something else to pass the time.

As much as you appreciated Dan’s support, you excused yourself because you wanted some time to yourself. Your mind was torn between worrying about the contest and thinking about Murayama. You really wished he was here with you.

You found your way to the edge of the festival, far away from the crowds of people. You fell onto the grassy hill with a sigh, tugging your phone from your pocket. Should you call him? You worried he would hear the sounds of the sounds of the festival and get suspicious so you chose to text him instead.

< Hey, Shiki. Are you busy?

His reply was almost instantaneous.

> For you? Never 🙂 What’s up?

A smile tugged at your lips.

< I… wanted to apologize for pushing you away I’m just dealing with a lot right now.

> I know. You don’t have to apologize ♡

You were starting to realize just how lucky you were to have Murayama in your life. He had always been your biggest support system, always by your side through thick and thin. When you needed space, he respected that- even if he did assign someone to keep an eye on you – and when you needed comfort, he dropped everything to be with you.

Most people saw him as nothing more than the delinquent leader of Oya Koukou, but he was so much more than that to you. He was the stars in your sky, the rain that helped you grow, the food that kept you fed.

Murayama Yoshiki was your world.

< Do you wanna come over tonight? We can watch Halloween movies.

You nearly told him that you had something you wanted to talk to him about, but you didn’t want him to worry so you kept that to yourself. Whether you won or lost this contest, you intended to tell him about it.

> I’ll bring the snacks ♡

The speaker buzzed before Kato’s voice overpowered the excited chatter of the festival. “The winner has been chosen! All participants must report to the field with their number card. No number card, no prize money!”

You stood up, pulling the orange and black card from your pocket. It held your name, the Daruma logo, your station letter and pumpkin number. The closer you got to the field, the more nervous you felt. This was it, the moment of truth.

You hung at the back of the crowd, peering at the stage where Kato and the Daruma babies stood. Three pumpkins sat on the table, turned around so no one could see the designs on them.

“In third place, taking home a ten-dollar credit for any food item at the Daruma festival…” Kato took the card offered by Agyo. “Misato, pumpkin #51.”

Misato was a teenage boy with a black bowl cut and large, round glasses. The crowd cheered for him as he rushed up to the stage to claim his ten bucks. He was allowed to turn his pumpkin around to show the design to the crowd before they let him place a bronze ribbon sticker on it.

The design he had carved was a family of pumpkinmen beneath a full moon.

“In second place, taking home $100 and a plushie of your choice…” Kato took the card Futa offered him, his eyes scanning the crowd with a smirk to build tension. “Murayama, pumpkin #86!”

Your eyes widened when you heard his name, gaze snapping to the male as he made his way onto the stage. He was scowling, clearly unhappy about the result. His scowl deepened when Kato smacked his shoulder, saying something you couldn’t hear.

He smacked the silver sticker onto his pumpkin harder than he needed to before turning it around, showing off a cute kitten wearing a witch’s hat. You thought it was the cutest thing in the world and you felt sad that it didn’t win.

“Finally, the moment you’ve all been waiting for…”

A tense silence settled over the crowd but you had already stopped paying attention, too focused on Murayama as he stepped away from the stage toward the other part-timers. You started to make your way over to him, pushing your way through the crowd.

Between trying to reach him and having already accepted that you weren’t going to win, you failed to hear Kato saying your name and pumpkin number. Dan saw you in the crowd and rushed over, grabbing your shoulder.

“What are you doing, idiot?” He hissed, pushing you toward the front of the crowd. “You won!”

“Eh?” Your heart raced within your chest, wide eyes staring at the stage. Kato was looking at you expectantly and you quickly rushed over, offering the four men an apology.

Ungyo smiled warmly at you as he handed you the gold sticker. You slowly turned the pumpkin around, placing the sticker above the design before stepping aside so the crowd could see it.

Murayama was already shocked to see you at the festival. Even more so to see you win the contest. When he saw the design, though, he felt his body flood with so much warmth and love that he felt as if he were being suffocated.

The design on the pumpkin was a dragonfly resting atop a lotus flower, the exact same design engraved on the bracelet you had given him for his birthday several years ago. It was a set of only two in the world. Honestly, you weren’t even sure he still had his or would even remember it, but it was an important memory for you.

That was the day you realized you loved Murayama wholeheartedly.

Murayama had, of course, kept the bracelet. It was one of his most prized possessions because it was the first gift you had given him.

Kato handed you an envelope with the cash in it and you bowed to him, thanking him and the Daruma babies. Honestly, it was taking everything within you not to cry and, as soon as you exited the stage, you took off toward the edge of the festival.

Murayama rushed after you, calling out your name but you didn’t stop until you were far away from everyone else. His hand found your shoulder, lips parting to say your name once more.

You threw yourself at him, arms tight around his waist as you sobbed into his chest. He swallowed hard, holding you tightly as he tried to control his own emotions.

You felt so happy that you had won and could clear your debt, but you also felt guilty for taking the money away from Murayama. Your fingers curled around the back of his tank top, arms hidden under the blue jacket he wore. “I’m sorry you lost…”

“I’m not. You won, that’s all that matters.” He meant this, of course, but he also felt a bit annoyed by it. He wanted to be the one to solve your problems, to prove that he could look after you and support you. He needed you to know that.

“Huh?” you frowned up at him, eyes glassy from your tears. “Don’t you need the money?”

He scoffed in disbelief. “I’m supposed to be the dumb one in this relationship, not you.”

You blinked dumbly. “You were… trying to win that money for me?”

“Of course I was,” he mumbled, a pout on his lips. “I want to take care of you and I’ll do anything for you.”

Your cheeks dusted with pink, heart filling with warmth. Words failed you at that moment so, instead, you leaned up and pressed your lips against his. He didn’t hesitate to return it, hand finding the back of your neck. His head tilted to the side, deepening the kiss.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

-> High&Low/Rampage Taglist: @kiraaaeon, @simpforchuchu, @star2fishmeg, @thatpoindexterpixy @manhwabtch

-> General Taglist: @asterhaze, @mrskenpachizaraki

#flufftober2023 #day 20 #murayama yoshiki #high&low #h&l #high & low #high and low #oya high #RFO - PSF #RFO - PSF23 #rains ficography #flufftober #RFO - reader insert #fanfic #fanfics #RFO - asian dramas

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mr-double-downer · 2 months ago

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we were talking about declining birth rates in class today, and kinda felt like I had to bring up the elephant in the room that at the end of day, it’s more on women then men, not that it’s a bad thing. Like I understand as a man, I can’t physically have children, and my contribution to the whole process is just, cumming inside a woman. Maybe that’s a crude way of putting it, but I understand that if someone puts in the time, effort, and money to have a career, starting a family is going to take away from that.

Like I remember my mom being stressed out a lot when I was younger because my dad did abandon her to go on deployments leaving her to raise me and sister for months alone with only my dear grandmother for support. Sure my dad was making good money for this, but, my mom was also working part time, so I can’t imagine what it was like for her to juggle both her job and us.

Like my dad wasn’t even active duty at this point, he was a reservist, and while I still have a little resentment for my mom cause she definitely was kind of a shithead to me in my youth, I can’t help but sympathize since she was someone who probably got married and had kids a little too young, but then again is there ever a right age?

And like I see parents, especially moms all the time at work with their kids and some of them look really burnt out. Are we really surprised some women don’t want to be mothers? Like shoot one of those weirdo right winger types made a poll asking women how many kids they want and both answers pertaining to none were some degree of misogynistic bullshit, but this is also the same dude who laments the fact he’s single. Like I wonder if there’s a correlation there on much a bigger level that most women don’t to deal with men who expect them to be homemakers 24/7?

Idk maybe I’m too sober tonight but I have no booze or cannabis to enjoy so uh, yeah here’s me

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slickshoesareyoucrazy · 2 years ago

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Independent and Easy

I’ve worked a lot in the past decade, especially the past few years, really especially the last year, to improve my relationship with my mom. And it has improved greatly from its historical situation and definitely from its low point in 2011. But damned if she can’t still hurt my feelings without putting any effort into it. At least I hope and want to believe she’s not putting any effort into it.

When she was my mom and wasn’t anyone else’s mom or grandmother, she made it very clear to me that to be the most pleasing, to get the most love, to get what I needed, I had to be easy. I had to not need or want much of anything, and definitely not demand it; attention, money, time, stuff, emotional labor, practical help. I had to not cause her any trouble, which meant I had to not cause anyone who would go to her about me any trouble either (teachers at school, doctors, other family members, anyone else she perceived as in charge of me). I had to happily accept any responsibility and expectations placed on me, no matter how extreme or irrational they might be. No complaining. No crying. No getting angry or resentful. If any of that flared up, remind yourself (so she doesn’t have to) that you’re selfish and you don’t matter as much as other people/she does, or that you don’t matter at all. Remind yourself (so she doesn’t have to) that you’re lucky you have a roof over your head and food to eat and you aren’t getting beaten or thrown in the closet/basement or forced to sit on the front step and read the Bible out loud with your stutter and dyslexia until your parent was satisfied with your shame and humiliation, or kicked out of the house (and you knew kids who suffered some, most, or all of that). Be easy, Jennifer, and be glad and grateful you don’t have it worse (the implied and unspoken message there was always...I could always make it worse).

So I was easy. I literally never had one disciplinary measure taken by any authority figure through preschool and 13 years of public schools. I never got in fights with mean and selfish and loud cousins at family gatherings, even when they definitely were pushing me around. I got straight A’s. I got high test scores. I took care of my baby (literal baby) brother as a middle and high school student, without dropping the high test scores or grades, or getting into any disciplinary trouble. I got a job and worked every shift I was scheduled for minimum wage. I didn’t do any social anything unless I could pay for it myself with the money I earned from my job (the childcare I provided for 11 years for my mom was always totally free). I didn’t ask for (even) a (used) car; didn’t even get my driver’s license until I was 17 because Mom and Dad didn’t have the time or desire to teach me to drive one of the family cars. I signed myself up for driver’s training (it wasn’t offered through my poor public high school, like countless movies about high school led me to believe.) I took 3 lessons and the road test in cars I’d never drive again, and passed...with 3 lessons from strange people in strange cars. And then didn’t dare ask for a family car, even with a license, unless it was to drive to work or local college classes (had to stay home for school to take care of my brother...so I could be ‘easy’).

The one time I actually expressed any displeasure to my mom, she threw a hot pan of gravy at me. She’d made gravy that was supposed to be savory, but mistook powdered sugar for flour, so it was incorrectly and cloyingly sweet, which I (I thought) diplomatically pointed out, and she shoved and slammed down the hot skillet onto the table and told me I never appreciated anything she did for me and I was just being difficult. My dad then tasted the gravy and agreed with me. She took the pan back and remade the gravy, but she never said she was sorry. I learned to never point out one of her mistakes and make sure to gratuitously fawn over what she did for me then. To be easy.

My mom when she was working was late for every appointment she made with me when I became an adult. ‘Let’s have lunch, Jennifer,’ and she’d leave me sitting at a restaurant table alone for up to my entire lunch hour, waiting for her, without calling or even answering her phone. If I brought up that she was late (with what I thought was obvious concern for her safety and well-being), she always told me she was very important and needed at work. I should understand that. I learned to never expect anything from her but to always fulfill her shifting and sometimes conflicting expectations of me. To be easy.

I learned to handle shit myself and if anything bothered me, including panic attacks, I learned to keep it to myself. To be easy. I was good at shit. To be easy. I was good. To be easy.

When I moved out, I bought my own place and didn’t ask them for any money. I bought my own furniture and appliances. Didn’t ask them for any money and was certainly never offered any without asking. In fact, they told me it was the stupidest thing I ever did (“You used to be smart, Jennifer.”) and they were not going to make a mortgage or a utility payment for me and ‘don’t think you’re coming back here when you can’t do it by yourself.’ But I did do it by myself, because I was raised to be independent and easy.

She complained about me asking her to take a half day off work the day before our wedding so she wouldn’t be late to our rehearsal dinner. I hired the caterer, booked the venue, and the DJ, made the flowers myself, made the favors myself, made the invitations myself...you know...to be EASY.

When J and I had our son (after losing my first pregnancy in a traumatic way), my mom and dad were happy, I guess, but she didn’t really care that much. She told me to stop giving her new pictures of the baby because they were ‘cluttering up her house.’ When we asked her to babysit so J and I could go on dates, we would only go to a meal (lunches during weekend afternoons before the boy was potty trained and sleeping through the night) for some minimal alone time together; we never even went to a movie. To be EASY. Once we asked for two weekends in a row, and she said, ‘I’m not doing THIS SHIT every weekend, Jennifer.’ So we made sure to only ask once a month or less. To be independent and easy. We didn’t need her to help us ‘too much.’ We weren’t being selfish and demanding and lazy and entitled to her time and attention for our son (her only grandchild). We wanted make sure we were easy.

She told me I shouldn’t have any more kids because I couldn’t handle any more by myself. I worry too much. My anxiety gets in the way. It was maybe overly hopeful for J and I to have more kids based on my first pregnancy, and we made a decision as a couple to not try for any more after the boy turned 4 regardless of my mom’s unsolicited input on the situation, but it still hurt that she pointed out that me having even one kid, in her eyes, made me less independent and easy. It kind of put expectations on her and I was now sort of failing to meet the expectations she had of me. Being a mom made me less independent and easy. And she probably resented me for making her a mom and making her less independent; putting any expectations on her. Me staying home with my son was lazy and entitled and spoiled, things she’d taught me over and over again were bad. In fact, she didn’t like watching my son because if I ‘get to just stay home’ every day, why would I ever even need a babysitter for any reason? I can’t even handle sitting on my ass doing nothing all day? I need a break from that?

The biggest fight I ever had with my mom was when my son was 4. J and I had gone to a Halloween party and I told my son to please eat what my mom made him for breakfast and not demand something special (to be easy) and to not ask to go to the toy store (to be easy). When I called my mom to check on him before we picked him up the following morning, she cheerfully told me he had both demanded a special breakfast my dad had to go out for and she took him to the toy store the night before. I asked to speak to my son and I calmly said, ‘Buddy, I thought we talked about these things last night,’ and he started to cry. My mom then snapped the phone away from him and said, ‘All you do is make him cry. He was a perfect angel until you called.’ When we got there to pick up my son, she called me an asshole and a bad mother in front of both my son and J. I asked J to take our son to the car and told my mom, ‘I’m done,’ once they were outside. I was just trying to train my son to be independent and easy to be pleasing to her. I was trying to stay independent and easy and pleasing to her.

I thought being easy was what would earn me love and connection, because that’s what I was very deliberately led to believe with her my whole life. I took responsibility for being a bad mom, a bad daughter, a bad person, unworthy of attention and love and care and respect, because I wasn’t independent and easy enough.

But that’s all horseshit. Because now my mom goes and cleans my brother’s and his wife’s apartment for them semi-regularly. They are double income, no kids. They’re fully capable of doing their own housework. My parents gave my brother a car when he turned 16 without him having to even ask for one. Then he totaled it. And they gave him ANOTHER car and bought a new one for themselves. My brother got Saturday school in high school once for shouting, ‘Where’s the fuckin’ call?!’ to a high school basketball referee. He didn’t get in any trouble at home. My mom helped my brother’s wife plan a wedding shower and a wedding...with glee. She cried at his wedding...the ceremony and the reception. She sat there stone faced at mine.

And I used to write a lot of shit off as internalized misogyny (which she does have a lot of) because of the obvious preferential treatment she afforded my brother and my son. And ‘he’s the baby’ for my brother and ‘he’s the grandchild’ for my son, too. But that’s not it, really. It’s more personal to me. Because now, my mom devotes entire days of her time to my aunt’s daughter. She’s younger than me, but she’s the oldest of her siblings, just like me; she’s a woman, not a boy or a man, just like me. My mom can’t stop talking about how cute my cousin’s kids are; she babysits joyfully...is honored to be asked...teaches the little girl how to make brownies from boxed mix...shares all kinds of photos of them whether I want to look at them or not. This woman isn’t my mom’s daughter OR grandchild. It hurts me that she makes them a priority and not me.

So at 44, I’ve finally seen the error of my ways, although going back through my life and history with my mom, I can’t possibly see how things could be different now. It was either end up here, or end up even more estranged because I wasn’t ever independent and easy. It’s me. It’s me she has never been able or willing or desirous to connect to. The curse of independence and ease is that she raised me to not need her, on purpose. And she doesn’t want me to need her. She still wants independent and easy. The curse of competence is that you don’t need anyone, so they just don’t show up for you. It never matters that you want them. My mom sees my brother and my cousin as sort of incompetent and dependent and difficult. So she feels like she HAS to help them. Which I know she doesn’t like. But she’s connected to them; she seems to be connected to them the way I’ve always wanted to be connected to her. But I also know she resents and complains about that connection. There’s just so much conflicting feeling about the situation for me right now. Competence and independence and ease cost you connection, but I’ve never wanted to be an obligatory connection to anyone, even my mom. Maybe especially my mom. So I’ve always just stayed trying to be independent and easy, but being independent and easy and keeping all your own needs and desires inside only ever ends up in lopsided, often abusive relationships, and it always hurts you.

I can see the same thing happening to my son now. J and I very intentionally raised him to know we love him regardless of our own visions and whether or not he matches them. We don’t put pressure on him to hide feelings and perform. We don’t expect too much of him; we try to let him be a kid. But despite all that, there are a lot of folks out there like my mom who place heavy expectations on people but demand those people have no expectations of them. He feels that pressure from teachers and friendships and other peers. He feels that pressure from just growing up in America; in growing up a boy. Expectation to handle shit yourself. Expectation to not ever express any feeling and need. Expectation to be independent and easy. I can see it. I can feel it. And I notice my son trying to be independent and easy. And it hurts me. I wonder why it never hurt my mom. Probably because she didn’t watch me.

#this is the first thing I put up on this blog in late October or early November 2022 after The Shit #I'm posting it again now for reasons; the main one being tumblr sucks &I have no archive &if the reblog controls work I can't repost anyway #so here's this because it goes with the thing I wrote today sort of I guess

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supedewoop · 1 year ago

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When I was in middle school, I was suicidal. My dad took me to the er a couple times, but it felt more like a threat, especially when I got to the er and they were all like, “why are you here?” The final time, I saw a social worker, and she basically said something to me, like, “you know, you don’t have to listen to your father. His words are just words. When you’re older, you don’t even need to talk to him. His job is to see that you get to that point, but you don’t owe him anything, despite what he tells you.”

A week or so after what would be the final time (which was either number two or number 3), my dad said to me, when I wasn’t expressing suicidal thoughts, just being an emotional tween, “insurance isn’t going to cover your last trip to the er, so next time, I’m just gonna let you do it.” It wasn’t that verbatim, but, I know I wasn’t expressing suicidal words, because I do distinctly remember he said, “next time,” not, “now”.

Obviously, those words stayed with me, and a week or two later, I told my mom that I was awful, and I can prove it because of insurance not covering me and me being such a hassle to dad, and I knew we were tight on money. My mom’s response was, something like, “well, your dad shouldn’t have told you about the insurance thing, but anyway, they are covering it now.”

30 years later, and obviously, lots of depression episodes later, my dad was reminiscing about how he had guns before he had kids, but mom made him give them up. I expressed that was probably hard for him to give a hobby. I was glad there wasn’t guns around the house though, because I think having access to them would have been really dangerous. He said, “no, actually, I think that’s why I should have kept them.” I said, “I’m sorry, you missed that hobby, although there were still options to go to shooting ranges and whatnot, but if I has access to a gun, I would have used one.” Please know, that most of my suicidal ideation comes from feeling like I cause harm to those around me simply by existing. He said, “yes, that’s what I meant too, I should have kept some.” I, idiotically, clarified one more time, “I would definitely have used one to kill myself if I had easy access to guns.” He said, “yes, I just wonder if we would be better off.” That was 5 years ago or so, and I literally do not remember what happened next. I think I just stopped talking to him? We were at a restaurant.

I’m very low contact with my parents, and have slowly decreased it ever since. They have ever-failing health, (my mom’s situation is more complicated, her health issues were part of the circumstances that led to my middle school years being so difficult and they have existed since then) and a lot of people who know both of us definitely think I’m the bad guy, though there’s a fair number who probably suspect I have good reasons. It helps that I live in a different country, but honestly, living in a different country was the easiest way for my mental health to be able to go lower contact and be able to reduce it as much as I have.

My dad’s big thing was always that I was in control of myself, even my response to other people (his shitty behavior), yet, when I have said, “I don’t have an interest in speaking to you much because you can’t seem to control yourself in saying hurtful things,” he doesn’t seem to get it, even when it is direct response to him saying something hurtful and I end the conversation immediately after saying that.

I got diagnosed with ADHD when I was 27. Back when I was a kid, I was bad at school and literally did not voluntarily do my homework unprompted before I was like 14. Mom told me to tell my sister to help me, and she wouldn't because parenting me wasn't her job, and mom just figured that if my sister isn't going to do it, then nobody's going to. She just accepted that she has one kid who wants to do well at school, and one who doesn't.

I remember one time as an adult, I was talking with my mom, and told her that I sometimes wish she would have at least tried to push me into doing better at school, at least enough to notice that it's not normal that an 8-year-old would have to be dragged into doing homework kicking and screaming (sometimes literally), and maybe I would have been tested for it like 15 years earlier and I wouldn't have struggled with an undiagnosed brain issue my entire adult life until I understood I can't study even the things I want to do, and sought help on my own.

Mom just shrugged and said she's never seen the point of pushing children to do things they don't want, kids will turn out the way they want to turn out no matter what you do. I needed to make sure I understood her right, and asked her if she's really saying that she sees no point in even trying to raise children, because they'll raise themselves anyway. She nodded, satisfied that I had understood the core of her wisdom.

I didn't cut my family out of my life because of the way my childhood was, but how they treated me as an adult. The exact details of the prompting incident itself that was the final straw are irrelevant, but my mother was shocked and baffled of why I would do that. She didn't raise me to be someone who would just cut ties like that over insults that go unaknowledged and unapologised.

But I sure did.

#suicide #trigger warning #suicidal ideation #tw: depression #tw: mental health #tw: sui mention #tw: sui ideation

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traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 1 year ago

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You don't have to answer, just want to vent.

I might have to tell my parents about it this week and there's a good chance they won't believe me. And if they don't believe me I'll have to move out. Which is fine, I have money saved up and a friend I can crash with, but I'm having a hard time getting a job so.... yknow. My therapist and my friend both assure me that my parents will believe me but the thing is that I have no fucking proof. I don't have details. For the first time in a while I'm wondering if I made it all up, and if I can't even trust I'm telling the truth then why should anyone else?

I hate that I have to take myself seriously. For so many years it's been a stupid fucked up story or a joke in my head but now I have to talk about it like it's real. I have to try to convince someone to believe me which I don't think I can do. I don't think anyone should believe me. I lie a lot.

I was watching Succession the other day and there was a joke where someone made up an accusation to cause drama in family therapy and no one took him seriously. And the thing made an accusation about was the thing that happened to me. And I was watching it with my mom. And I just thought "if I tell her she's gonna think about this episode."

It's all a joke. 99% of the time I hear this kind of shit mentioned it's a joke. Even when I talk about it with my friend I end up making it into a joke. Why would anyone believe me?

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about what you've been through and are going through. It's understandable as a survivor to worry that people won't believe you, especially if you don't have "evidence". It's something I and many other survivors grapple with, so please know that you're not alone.

I tend to think that someone who makes it up knows they've made it up without a question, and would likely have a clearer story since details wouldn't be lost to repression or dissociation (though having a clear story isn't necessarily a sign of faking either since not everyone represses or dissociates).

I wrote an expose and would like to share a quote on page 330: "As much as I have told it, you are not entitled to my story. I shouldn’t need to write this for you to believe me. I shouldn’t have to hand you my story like it’s my license and registration. But I will, because in this society, I will not be taken seriously if I don’t. I will not be taken seriously if I don’t memorize my story, and I will not be taken seriously if I admit that I memorize my story. I may not be taken seriously no matter what I do." It's important to remember that not every survivor has evidence and you shouldn't need to prove your story to be believed or supported. Even people who lie a lot deserve support and understanding, since lying doesn't mean you can't be a survivor either.

I can understand not wanting to fully acknowledge the gravity of your experiences, as it can be hard to face all the implications of what happened and how people may react. But many survivors find that getting it off your chest and being believed is a necessary step towards healing. And sometimes merely recognizing the full gravity of your trauma within yourself can allow you to process it more comprehensively.

I'm glad to hear that you have a therapist. I hope that they can help you in navigating your feelings around this in the future.

If it's any comfort, please know that we believe you. You are not alone. If you need anything please feel free to send us another ask.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #tw abuse #tw emotional abuse

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survey--s · 2 years ago

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465.

Have you ever been cut off by a bartender because you were too drunk? No, that’s never happened to me before.

Have you ever borrowed money from your mom and lied about why you needed it? Yeah, I definitely did that more than once as a teenager lol. I’m also pretty sure she knew I was lying and let me have it anyway ha. Have you ever flirted with a cop to get out of a ticket? No, I’ve never been pulled over so I’ve never been in a situation where I’ve needed to do it.

Have you ever lied during a job interview? Not about qualifications or anything, but about my confidence or my availability sometimes.

Have you ever bought alcohol for someone underage? Yeah, sure.

Have you ever started a rumour to ruin someone’s reputation? No. I don’t think I’ve ever started a rumour before, actually.

Have you taken any pics of yourself that you won’t want your parents to see? Sure.

Would you turn a family member in if you see them commit murder? I don’t think anyone can answer this until they’re in that situation, surely?

Do you feel accepted by your BF/GF’s family? Yeah, most definitely. They’re very open and welcoming people. Have you ever trashed your ex’s car after an argument? No. Is that really something people do outside of movies? Would you leave a note on a car claiming responsibility if you damaged it? Yes, of course.

Have you ever used someone's handicapped parking pass to get a parking spot? No.

If you ran over an animal would you keep driving? Depends on the situation - I’d always stop for a dog or cat, but I’m not going to pull over for a pigeon or a squirrel.

Do you really care about saving the planet for future generations? I mean, I care but I also think that anything an individual can do is absolutely pointless when you have countries like China and the US churning out all the pollution and crap that they do.

What was the first thing you learned how to cook? Pasta sauce from scratch.

What are some wild animals commonly found where you live? Hare, adders, deer, badgers, rabbits, hawks, seagulls, fell ponies.

Do you think there will ever be world peace? No.

Have you ever turned down a job offer? Yeah, I’ve turned down promotions several times.

Do you know anyone who believes that vaccines cause autism? Nah, thankfully nobody I know IRL is that ignorant, lol.

What does the name say on your birth certificate? Yeah, I’m not sharing my full name on here.

In terms of politics, do you sit on the right or the left? Left.

Out of all those blood related, immediate or other, which single person would you list as your favorite? I’m closest to my mum or my dad’s half sister.

Who is one you wish you didn't share blood with? I can’t say that there’s anyone I feel that way about.

Generally, what genre of movies do you jump at the opportunity to see? Disney, comedy, fantasy.

Have you ever been able to pet a normally wild animal, like a tiger or dolphin? Yeah, snakes, giraffes, rhinos, elephants, lemurs, meerkats, kangaroos, squirrel monkeys, wallabies and penguins.

If you had a work office that you would be allowed to decorate any way you want, how would you decorate it? It would have fairy lights, comfy chairs, a nap space and a really good coffee machine lol. It would also be pet-friendly.

Do you know anyone who is a Native American? Nope.

What was the hardest thing you went through in your childhood? Honestly, I had a really good childhood, especially when I was primary age.

Have you ever had a girlfriend? No.

Do you have any close friends that were adopted? My mum was adopted and a friend I went to school with had an adopted sister.

Does your mom eat meat? She does.

Was your dad ever on a sports team? Yeah, he used to play cricket when I was little.

Who has the prettiest middle name you know? I don’t really know.

What’d be your name if you took your mom’s middle name? Ann.

Do you know a lot of things about the opposite sex’s body parts? I mean, I know what I need to know.

What is your least favourite thing about your full name? There were loads of at school so I hated that it was so common.

What’s your favourite kind of poptart? I’m not a fan of Poptarts anymore but when I was younger I liked the chocolate ones.

When did your family immigrate to wherever you live now? My parents moved here about ten years before I was born.

Do you enjoy watching birth vlogs? No. Is that really a thing?

Do you know anyone else with your name? Yeah, quite a few people. Which country’s flag is your favorite? I don’t have a favorite.

What would you be most afraid of happening if you were to visit Africa? I’d be worried about being a victim of crime.

Do you ever take pictures of negative moments? Yeah, I have done in the past.

Would you ever post a picture of yourself crying on social media? Nope. I think that’s so...tacky.

Have you ever held a newborn baby? Yes.

Do you know anyone who has twins? I went to school with several sets of twins, but I don’t know anyone my age that has twins.

Are you following in the career path of any family members? Nope. I can’t think of anyone on either side of my family that works with animals.

Do you feel you missed out on a lot as a kid? Sometimes - my parents were quite old-fashioned so we never had a VHS player or anything, and I wasn’t really allowed to watch TV - like, we only had four channels at home until I was about eighteen. I also wasn’t allowed loads of the trendy toys so I did feel a bit left out sometimes because of that.

Who was that best friend you ever had? Linnet.

Do you have people in your family who want you dead? I mean, I hope not lol.

Honestly, if you could have anyone in the world, who would it be? .

What do you usually order at Taco Bell? I’ve never been to Taco Bell - the nearest one from here is a good 2-3 hours away. Have you ever streaked? Nope.

How many city/towns have you lived in? Five.

Do you prefer to shower at night or in the morning? Either in the morning or straight after work. I work an outdoors job that’s pretty physical so there’s no point showering then going to work lol.

Have you ever wanted to be a ballet dancer? No, but I did ballet lessons for years when I was younger.

When was the last time you really laughed? The dog being ridiculous this morning.

Honestly, whose numbers do you have memorized? Mine and my mum’s. Do you sleep with socks on? No.

Has anyone ever told you, you were beautiful? Yeah.

What kind of house do you want? One by the coast with a wrap-around porch please.

Would you like living on the coast? I already do really, but I’d love to own a house with a view of the sea.

What would you like your generation to change? World hunger.

Are you a sore loser? Yeah, I can be.

Honestly, do you enjoy arguing? Nope.

Have you ever wanted a Nikon camera? Or do you have one already? I used to want one.

Are you a picky eater? What’s one food you refuse to eat? No, I’m not picky as such but I’m really funny about textures.

Do you have Photoshop? If so, how often a day do you use it? No.

What color are the walls in the room you’re in right now? Two of them are red, and two are grey. Do you use your queen right away in chess? No.

Were you in track and field? Yeah, until year 7.

Were you ever in a school talent show? Yes.

Have you thrown up in a car? Yeah, I get really bad travel sickness - especially on windy roads or when I have to sit in the back seat.

Who was your first grade teacher? Mrs Richards.

Where did you go on your first airplane ride? Australia when I was about three months old.

Whose wedding were you in the first time you were a bridesmaid or a groomsmen? I’ve never been in anyone’s wedding. In fact, the only wedding I’ve ever attended is my own lol.

First tattoo or piercing? My earlobes when I was eleven or twelve.

First celebrity crush? Josh Hartnett.

#survey #surveys

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codenamesazanka · 3 years ago

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unpopular opinion but I pity kotarou, he just gives me so many feelings because he’s so damn tragic. He’s a repressed wreck of an asshole, but my god, he tried. he really tried.

like, after his mom relinquished him, he must have sworn to do everything right - that is to be, in his eyes, a better family man than Nana. Kotarou’s literally like the Confucian Ideal. He studied and worked hard, enough to leave the foster care system to go to college and got a job that allowed him to become wealthy. I bet you anything Kotarou chose whatever job he had specifically to make lots of money in order to make sure his family would never want for anything. He’s an orphan turned wealthy professional. he’s a success story.

Kotarou married, built a house big enough to allow his wife’s parents to move in with them because he wanted to be the perfect son-in-law. Traditionally the eldest son have his parents move in with him when they get old. Lacking parents, he basically decided to adopt Nao’s parents as his own. He had kids - a girl and a boy, perfect balance - and he gave the kids a dog. Does Kotarou seem like the type of guy to want pets? No. I bet you anything again that he got the kids the corgi when they asked for a pet, just like that. His profile wasn’t wrong - the thing he liked was actually his family (yes, including Tenko).

Kotarou tried and nearly did everything right, all except the most important thing - being an actual dad, a emotionally supportive parent. Man was internally an complete angry traumatized grieving disaster obsessed with getting everything perfect. Had no idea how to do healthy feelings. All that emotional damage suffocated the entire household, everyone wilting in that toxicity. Even if it was inadvertently, he ended up emotionally neglectful/abusive and it caused his wife and in-laws to tolerate/comply with it, leaving the kids unprotected. Hana learned to lie as a survival skill, and Tenko got to be the main target of all that dysfunction.

I truly believe the day Kotarou slapped Tenko was the first time he physically hit his son. His usual method of punishment was putting Tenko outside - traditional method of punishment in Japan - and he did this with a cool, stoic demeanor. Once the Nana picture entered the picture tho, he snapped. Just two slaps and that was all it took to ensure his demise.

For all that Confucianism extols filial piety, it also demands reciprocity. The parent behaves well, then so will the child. If the parent sucks, don’t be surprise when the child rebels.

Kotarou fostered a toxic environment, and Tenko developed that itch of his, the physical manifestation of that poison. It built up, slowly, darker and deeper, until that itch became the Decay that would ultimately destroy the family, the house, and especially Kotarou. Too easy of a metaphor. He fed the rot (or perhaps rather, he let the rot fester as he ignored it) and eventually the decay consumed him too.

Plus. The manga doesn’t even really frame Tenko killing his dad as bad. Horrifying, yeah, but there’s not quite any condemnation. Shigaraki doesn’t forgive him, and he’s the only person left in the Shimura tragedy whose judgment matters, so there’s just no forgiveness.

Kotarou tried so hard, but he was his own undoing. He worked so hard to create the perfect family, and completely failed. What a disaster of a guy.

#nalslastworkingbraincell #Shimura Kotarou #i just #he tried so hard to be the family ideal #but none of it mattered

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five-rivers · 3 years ago

Text

Beltane

Written for Ectober 2021 Day 1: Trick vs Treat. This is part of the Exhumed series.

Danny Fenton walked into the precinct. As often happened when he did this, all attention slowly turned to him. “Hi, Detective Patterson. Have you ever heard of Beltane?”

Patterson took a long swig of coffee through the plastic stir straw, because she felt the need to be at least a little drugged before dealing with whatever this was, and then said, “Is this the kind of thing the whole precinct needs to know about, or is it more specific to me?”

“Mm, not specific to you, but I’m not sure if everyone needs to know about it, yet.”

Despite only select members of the Amity Park police force knowing Danny Fenton had another identity, he’d become a sort of ‘ghost liaison’ for the precinct. Better him than the adult Fentons, who tended to break things even (especially) when they were being careful.

“Actually,” continued Danny, “you might have already noticed some things about it. I mean, it’s seasonal, and Mom and Dad were detecting ectoenergy and ghost activity spikes for events like this before they got the portal up and running. Although, the portal was supposed to stabilize and reduce those spikes… I guess reducing one isn’t bad?”

“Okay,” said Patterson. “I don’t really know what you’re talking about. Do you want me to go find Collins?”

“Oh, that might be a good idea.”

“Great,” said Patterson. She turned her head to shout across the room. “McGee. Go find Collins.”

“Still the new guy?” asked Danny, sympathetically.

“It isn’t like we’re a popular posting,” said Patterson, “and, thanks to the ghosts, we don’t really need new people.”

Danny nodded placidly. “I know. But it must be hard for him, don’t you think?”

McGee had done his job. He’d discovered the corruption in the Amity Park Police Department and plumbed its depths. The problem was that he could never, ever, report it. Even if they didn’t have a perfectly good cause for it all, what they were ‘hiding’ (and they were only barely doing that) was so ridiculous that McGee had thought he’d gone crazy at first.

Ghosts.

The whole of Amity Park was haunted. Just like it said in those touristy brochures at the front of the local diners.

He stuck his head into the break room. “Collins, Patterson and Fenton want you,” he said.

“In the normal room?” Collins asked, shoving a sugary monstrosity of a donut into his mouth.

“I have no idea. She didn’t say.”

“Normal room then. Great job, McGee.”

McGee rolled his eyes. Great job, he said. As if he’d done anything.

God. What would Halloween be like?

“So, it’s like, reverse Halloween?” asked Patterson.

“Well, not exactly,” said Danny. He patted Daisy, the department mascot slash corpse sniffing dog who had followed them into the small interview room, gently on the head. “Actually, there are more similarities than differences. Basically, like Halloween, we’re going to get a spike in ectoenergy. Maybe even some ectoplasmic storms. More portals. That kind of thing.” He shrugged. “Most holidays and seasonal divisions have them, you know.”

“So… we’re getting Halloween round two?” asked Collins.

“What do you bet that this is what gets McGee to snap?”

“He’s been here since December,” said Collins. “I think he’s too stubborn to leave.”

“Is he still spying?” asked Danny.

“No,” said Patterson, waving a hand. “He gave up on that, after a while. But there’s a new office bet about whether or not he’ll stay stay, or if he’ll decide to quit. We’re not allowed to join in because we know him too well.”

“Mm,” said Danny.

“I don’t actually know if I feel like I know him that well,” said Collins.

“Well,” said Danny, “it shouldn’t be as extreme as Halloween. Since, I mean, there aren’t as many religious holidays directly associated with death and stuff happening on or around May first. So. Yeah. But the thing is, there are some traditional, er, activities. Spirited activities.”

Collins suppressed a groan, and was glad that Captain Jones wasn’t available today. He and Danny could sling puns at each other for obscenely long periods of time.

“I’ve never noticed ghosts doing anything on May Day,” said Patterson.

“This is only the third year anyone’s even acknowledged that ghosts exist,” said Danny, “so I’m not really all that surprised. But the reason that I came to talk to you guys is that some of the ghosts want to do Beltane stuff. Like the fire blessings. Also, I’ve been told that some of the trees in town are secretly ghost trees, and if we don’t want to deal with another tree army, we need to do some stuff to appease them.”

“Secret ghost trees.”

“My source is very reliable,” said Danny. “Also, while I say ‘we don’t want to deal with it,’ I think we all know who’d be dealing with most of it.”

“You would,” said Patterson.

“Got it in one. Like, I can convince most of the ghosts to either do their Beltane stuff in the Ghost Zone, or somewhere out of the way. They’ll be disappointed, but I can do it. The ghost tree thing, though…”

“Can’t we just, I don’t know,” said Collins, “get rid of the ghost trees?”

“Well, they aren’t really evil ghost trees. Or even really ghost trees. They’re more… ghosts that live in trees?”

“What, like dryads?” asked Collins, raising his eyebrows.

“That’s what I said, but they’re different species, apparently.”

“Okay,” said Patterson, “so. Appeasing the trees. How many trees are we talking about here, and how are we going to appease them?”

“Okay, so, this is definitely a whole precinct kind of thing,” said Patterson.

“And possibly an ‘all civil servants’ type of thing,” added Collins. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where are we going to get the funding for this?”

“Oh, don’t worry about money,” said Danny. “I’ll just blackmail Vlad, and if that doesn’t work, I can get Mom and Dad to pay for it.”

“What,” said Collins.

“I think this might be a bit beyond your parents’ budget,” said Patterson, “but knock yourself out as far as Masters goes.”

“Well, I guess if it is,” he allowed, dubiously, “I could get the cults to pitch in?”

“This is nice,” said Danny. The sky was a bit overcast, which was a shame, but the hundreds of bright flowers and cheerful music more than made up for that.

The May Day celebration was, in Danny’s opinion, a success. At least, this half of it was turning out to be. He’d have to wait and see how the Spirit Bonfires went tonight before he could really make a judgement.

He’d only had to blackmail Vlad a little, too. It turned out that the ‘ruthless businessman’ in Vlad was ludicrously easy to manipulate, and once Danny brought up how a celebration like this one could revitalize local businesses and bring in tourism, he’d caved.

Although, that might have been the threat of an angry tree army. Vlad had definitely come off worse for wear in the last one, on all fronts.

Then, publically putting the Phantom Stamp of Approval (and Necessity Given The Potential Angry Tree Army) on the event had gotten buy-in from his fans and (sigh) the cults. The cults were, in fact, very enthusiastic about their new Holy Day. Danny had made a map of all the places they’d set up booths, and was studiously avoiding them.

Sam and Tucker were doing a walkthrough of that area, now, to check for problems and unadorned thorn trees. They’d arranged to meet up soon.

So, Amity Park was decked out in ribbons and flowers. All of the schools had gotten Maypoles and the day off of classes. Several bands, both human and ghostly, were playing in different parts of town.

It was chaotic, but great.

Danny briefly cut into the street to dodge a pair of college-age men play-fighting with tree branches (a genuinely important tradition symbolizing the battle between winter and summer), then walked through a wall to avoid two ghosts doing the same thing.

Finally, he reached Madame Babazita’s table.

“Hi,” he said, “three readings, please.”

“Three?” she asked. “Just for you?”

“My friends should get here before mine’s done,” said Danny. Was he channeling some predictive powers? Maybe. Holidays did make his powers weird.

“I have no idea what your reading is saying,” said Madame Babazita, after fifteen full minutes. “The cards simply aren’t speaking to me today. Also,” she held up an Uno card, “I’m not sure how this even got here.”

“That’s okay,” said Danny, “I just wanted to make sure it was the same as last time.”

“Hey! Phantom!” called Ember across the crowd of ghosts that had gathered in the cemetery. Most of them were fire or nature themed. “You’re in for a treat!”

Danny, who had been examining the flowers left on his grave, looked up. “I am?”

Ember draped her arm around Danny’s shoulder. She’d been a lot more friendly with him since the corpse incident. “Sure are.” She stepped up onto the surface of his memorial, pulling him up behind her. Danny shook off a brief chill and looked around.

Ghosts were streaming into the cemetery from various directions, bringing armfuls of flowers with them. Danny could see two, huge bonfire piles of flowers growing near the cemetery gates.

“Are there going to be cows?” asked Danny, who was still fuzzy on the details of the ghostly side of the celebrations.

“I don’t know,” said Ember. “When I’ve seen this done in the GZ there are. Here? Who knows. Maybe we’ll just walk through.”

Danny nodded, unworried. Beltane sure was an interesting holiday.

The last armful of flowers was placed, and every flower in the cemetery caught on fire at once. Including the ones on Danny’s grave. Danny yelped, jumping into flight. As an ice core ghost, he vastly preferred cold to heat.

This went without saying, but fire was very hot.

Ember grabbed his foot, and he almost kicked her. “You knew that was going to happen,” he accused.

“Sure did, babypop,” said Ember, grinning. “Come on, don’t you want to pass through the bonfires?”

Danny eyed the very large bonfires on either side of the cemetery gates. They were lit up with sparks like fireworks, shifting like flowers blooming and withering and blooming again. They were beautiful and impressive, and Danny felt like melting just by looking at them.

“I don’t know…” He wanted to, but… melting…

“Well, if you want to go out the other way and be horribly unlucky for the next year…”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “Is that another trick?” he asked.

Ember’s grin grew wider, and she took off towards the gates. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Danny sighed and followed her.

“Unbelievable,” said McGee. “Absolutely unbelievable.” He gave the elderly cultist a boost into the wagon.

“I know, right?” said Patterson. “All this property damage and a low-key kidnapping,” she gestured to the hapless late night partier who had called the police when the cult got too insistent about their message, “and they didn’t even have the good drugs?” She shook her head. “Not that we ever arrest anyone just for drugs in this town.”

“I did not just hear you say that,” muttered McGee.

“We’ll make an Amity Parker out of you yet,” said Collins, heartily, slamming the back door of the wagon. He thumbed the button on his radio. “Any other disturbances?” he asked.

“No, you’re good to come back,” said the dispatcher.

“What I don’t get,” said McGee, leaning against a nearby wall in a moment of weakness, “is why we aren’t breaking up whatever cult thing is happening in the cemetery.” They’d seen it quite clearly on their way here.

“Because those are ghosts,” said Patterson.

McGee took a deep breath. “The ghosts are having some kind of ritual in the cemetery, and you aren’t worried.”

“Not really, no.”

“I hate it here,” said McGee.

“Do you, though?” asked Collins, sounding genuinely interested in the answer.

McGee opened his mouth to snap back that, yes, he did. But…

Hm. Huh.

Collins patted him on the back.

#danny phantom #ectober #ectober 2021 #ectoberhaunt 2021 #ectoberhaunt trick #ectoberhaunt treat #ectoberhaunt day 1: trick vs treat #fic #fanfic #exhumed

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neonlights92 · 4 years ago

Text

GRACE: Chapter I

Kim Namjoon lost himself when he lost his hand. Things have not been the same for him since. When Taehyung tells him it’s time for him to marry - he isn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of someone else having a front row seat to his struggle with himself.

That’s where you come in. You’re a nurse, as well as a member of Bangtan, and Taehyung is never more sure about a match than he is with you and Namjoon. Feeling like you’ve been chosen to help Namjoon on his journey back to finding who he is, you feel completely out of depth.

It’s only when you start to see the man underneath that you start to fall in love with Kim Namjoon. And maybe after all, you might be his saving grace.

WARNINGS: Language, eventual sex and some violence

A/N:Namjoonie’s story! ENJOOOOY :D

“Kim Taehyung wants to see you, Y/N.”

Your mother’s words dropped between the two of you, like lead. Her eyes avoided your own - and you knew exactly what she actually meant.

Kim Taehyung has found you a husband.

Your chest tightened and you gripped the handle of your coffee mug for dear life.

Your eyes traveled over to your father, his face kind but stern. This wasn’t up for debate.

“Okay.” The word was quiet, “Do I - do you…”

You took a deep breath and collected yourself.

“Who is he?”

The question hung in the air uncomfortably.

Your parents exchanged a look - the same look they’d exchanged your entire life when decisions were made for you and they were afraid you wouldn’t like it.

“I think we should let Taehyung tell you that.” Your father’s voice was steady, “As Capo, it is his right.”

As capo.

You didn’t know Kim Taehyung very well at all. Though the two of you were of a similar age - had grown up together in Bangtan - he had always been groomed for Capo. You on the other hand, had been groomed like most other women in the mob: to believe that your most important duty in life was to carry on your family line.

You knew it was outdated. And you hated it, though you’d never complain.

Life had taught you that complaints got you nowhere - and so you’d learnt to keep your head down and get on with it.

But that didn’t mean you’d never wanted more. That you’d craved freedom and independence like no other.

And when your parents had allowed you to study nursing at university you really had thought maybe things were changing. Until you’d realised that it had been a direct order from Taehyung’s father himself - the Capo at the time.

Bangtan needed their own nurse. Someone who could take care of things quietly and efficiently.

Someone who could help those who were badly injured find some degree of normality.

And that’s what you did.

Still. You loved your job - mob mandated or not.

“Okay.” You whispered, feeling something like dread wash over you.

“His wife has invited you to dinner at theirs,” Your mother finally moved her gaze to connect with your own, “This evening. Eight pm.”

You nodded, on autopilot.

This was what you’d done all your life, wasn’t it?

You listened to orders. You never asked questions. You never challenged Bangtan.

And if the Capo himself wanted to see you, then you knew it could only mean one thing.

He’d found you a husband. And tonight, you would meet him too.

You stood outside Kim Taehyung’s mansion -- because that’s what it was, a mansion -- nervously fingering the hem of your blouse.

This was it.

You’d waited twenty-five years for this moment - the moment someone else decided who you would marry.

You’d always known it would be like this. Your father was too powerful - he held too many cards too close to his chest - and Bangtan could never let someone like him choose his own daughter’s marriage.

He’d told you since you were a young girl to expect this. An arranged betrothal.

And when you were little you thought it was sort of romantic. Like some fairytale - a princess locked away in a tower and a knight who was destined to save her.

Except now you were older and it wasn’t all that romantic anymore.

It was stifling.

You knew your father had come to this agreement with Taehyung himself. You hated that you lived in such a misogynistic world, but it was the way things had always been.

After a long moment and a deep, calming breath, you lifted your hand and knocked, once.

There was a beat and then the portal swung open.

And Kim Taehyung’s wife was smiling widely at you. You forced your own lips up into a smile.

“Hi! Y/N, was it?”

You curtsied a little feeling foolish straight after, “Yeah. Hello Mrs Kim.”

“Ugh Mrs Kim is Taehyung’s mom,” She laughed, “You can call me ___.”

Her eyes were kind as she opened the door further and gestured you inside.

“Come in, please. Dinner is almost ready and the boys are too.”

The boys.

Your heart skipped a beat. For a moment you wondered if perhaps your father had somehow secured a marriage to the last available member of the Special Seven, Kim Namjoon.

But you shook your head.

Your father was important, of course… But surely not that important.

Besides, from what you’d heard through the grapevine - since the accident that had caused Namjoon to lose most of his hand - he had pretty much become a hermit. The rumour mill was rife, of course, with people’s theories of what would become of Bangtan’s most eligible bachelor.

Could it be that Kim Taehyung wanted you to take up that mantle?

“I hope you like pasta,” ___ interrupted your thoughts and you looked up as stopped in front of a large dining room, “We hardly ever use this room anymore, but Taehyung thought it was appropriate for tonight.”

Your eyes widened at the opulence of the room you were stood in. The chandelier that hung in the middle of the ceiling dripped with what you could only guess were the most expensive diamonds money could buy. The long, mahogany table was ornate and rich - a dark colour that spoke of wealth and taste.

“It’s a little much,” ___ spoke up again and you turned to see her rolling her eyes, “But it was like this when we moved in. Taehyung’s dad had a lot of money and apparently not a lot of subtlety.”

She laughed at the comment and you giggled too - relaxing a little as the tension eased from your shoulders slightly. It seemed you’d found something of an ally in Taehyung’s wife and you were thankful for that, at least.

“I know we don’t really know each other,” She started carefully, a perfectly plucked brow pulling up slightly, “But I like to think of myself as a confidant of sorts… Especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

You raised your own brow, “Matters of the heart?”

She bit her bottom lip and you noticed the pity in her eyes.

As she opened her mouth to answer you, somebody cleared their throat to your left and your head snapped round, finding yourself looking up into the formidable gaze of Kim Taehyung.

He was alone, you noticed immediately, and you tried to keep your expression neutral.

This was the game of Bangtan. A game you’d grown up in.

A game you knew well.

“Taehyung,” You greeted, nodding gently, “Thank you for inviting me. It is an honour.”

His handsome face was cold - barely responsive as he nodded back to you, “Y/N. Welcome to our home.”

Our home.

The words warmed you.

It had been clear for a while now that Kim Taehyung’s only weakness was his wife. He would burn the entire world down for her - and you’d been told of this time and time again.

They had started off as an arranged marriage - almost six years ago now - when Taehyung’s father and his wife’s father had worked so closely with one another they had promised their children’s hand in marriage in an act of loyalty.

But things had changed in the years since.

It was well established that Kim Taehyung loved only one thing more than he loved Bangtan - and that was his wife.

You tried to focus on that - on the fact that loveless marriages could turn into something else - as ___ nudged her husband playfully.

“Don’t be so formal,” She teased and you couldn’t believe you were witnessing this exchange, “Y/N is a friend.”

Taehyung actually rolled his eyes playfully and smiled down at his wife, “I’m still Capo, darling.”

She laughed as well and your chest tightened. You wanted that.

The obvious love they had for one another - the way they seemed to be so comfortable with each other it was like they had found their home.

“Well dinner’s almost ready Taehyung so go and get cleaned up.” ____ said, slipping an arm through yours and leading you towards the ridiculous mahogany table, “Come sit over here, Y/N.”

You noticed for the first time that the table was set for four people.

Your heart pounded against your chest.

“Who is it?”

The question slipped out of you before you even had a chance to think it through. ____ froze. She was slipping into the seat beside you when her eyes turned to your own.

“What?”

“The fourth person,” You whispered, darting your eyes behind you to make sure Taehyung wasn’t within earshot distance, “My future husband. Who is it?”

____ looked genuinely distraught for a moment.

You clicked your tongue.

“I’m a member of the South Korea mafia, ____, I know how this shit works.” You noticed your words were a little sharp and you tried to soften them with a weak smile, “Just tell me who it is. Please.”

____ seemed torn. Her eyes roved your face carefully and she sighed.

“He’s a good guy.” She told you carefully, “Really. I’m not just saying that.”

Your heart dropped. The look in her eyes - the trepidation….

“It’s Kim Namjoon, isn’t it?”

A throat cleared itself loudly from behind you. You snapped your head to the side and watched as the man himself sauntered towards the two of you.

“You rang?” The sarcasm dripped from his tone as he stuck out his prosthetic hand for you to shake. You supposed he was expecting you to be disgusted - maybe to rebuke him - but you were made of stronger stuff than that.

You forced yourself to smile, “Hello Namjoon. I’m Y/N.”

He narrowed his eyes as you shook his prosthetic.

“I know who you are,” He raised a dark brow, “The future Mrs Kim Namjoon.”

The words were like heavy bricks - weighing down on your shoulders.

You knew next to nothing about this man. Despite what ____ had said about him being a good man all you saw was bitterness and anger in his eyes.

“You’re the nurse, aren’t you?”

You nodded carefully and tried to calm your pulse.

“Well now we know why Taehyung chose you for me. The cripple.”

____ cleared her throat and stood up abruptly. Her eyes were dark and angry and she shook her head at Namjoon.

“No. You don’t get to do that to her. Not when she had nothing to do with any of this.” Her bottom lip trembled slightly, “Apologise.” Namjoon’s face was a perfect mask of nonchalance. His eyes flicked between you and ____ and he shrugged.

“What for?”

____ squared her shoulders, “You know exactly what for, Kim Namjoon.”

“I think that’s enough now,” Taehyung entered the room sharply, standing between his wife and friend. His gaze fell on you after a moment, “I see the two of you have met.”

You nodded wordlessly, wondering just what in the hell was going on.

Namjoon was seething apparently, as he sulked to the left of his friend, arms crossed and eyes dangerously black.

“Was he not as welcoming as he’d promised he’d be?”

“This is ridiculous V, we both know that. You’ve chosen her because she’s a nurse and because of this,” He stuck his fake hand in the air and you refused to look away.

Nobody else in the room reacted for a moment.

Taehyung took a deep, calming breath.

“That was part of it, yes.” He said evenly, “Y/N is a trained nurse and therefore she can help you move forward with this. But she’s also a good match. Right age, right height… Her parents are wealthy and important like yours. It is a good union. I have told you this plenty of times Namjoon.”

“I will not marry her because of pity,” Namjoon spat the word out, “I’m not some fucking charity case-”

“I don’t pity you.” The words flew out of you and when three sets of eyes turned to fall on you, you wondered if it was the right choice. You chose to focus on Namjoon.

“What?”

“I don’t pity you,” You told him honestly, gesturing to his prosthetic, “What happened is awful, obviously. And I may never know the full extent of it. But I don’t pity you. You are a man with an obstacle in life. There are many men with obstacles in life. That doesn’t make you worthy of pity.”

Namjoon’s eyes searched your face for something - what you weren’t sure - and she sighed heavily. He seemed so tired. You noticed the bags under his eyes, the lines in his forehead. He was young - just a little older than you - and yet it seemed he’d aged so much recently.

“So you want to marry me? You want to marry a man who’s had to learn how to live - how to do normal every day things like eat with a knife and fork - all over again?”

You shrugged, “I want to do what’s best for Bangtan. If Taehyung says that’s a marriage between the two of us, then so be it.”

A long moment passed between the two of you.

Namjoon seemed to be sizing you up, and you took the opportunity to do the same.

He wasn’t ugly. Far from it. Kim Namjoon was tall and handsome - and from what you’d heard through the grapevine - he was also smart and kind.

People spoke about him of course - he was a member of the Special Seven - and what they said was normally very positive.

He wasn’t like other Bangtan men.

He was grounded. He was softer. A man who used brains instead of braun.

You had to admit, those traits were attractive to you.

Eventually, he spoke.

“Alright then.” He nodded and gave you a strange look - somewhere between admiration and confusion, “I suppose that says it all.”

Namjoon turned to Taehyung and nodded.

“We’ll get married at the earliest convenience.” _____ gasped from behind you but you barely registered the sound.

It had all been well and good in theory… But now what?

Kim Namjoon stuck his hand out to yours - his real hand made of flesh and bones - and smiled sardonically.

“Welcome to the family, Mrs Kim Namjoon.” You smiled back. Mrs Kim Namjoon.

You could do this.

Planning a wedding was easy when you weren’t trusted to do a single thing.

Kim Namjoon’s family had promised to take care of everything - and as a family higher up in the Bangtan hierarchy than your own - there had been no argument to be made.

This was the way things worked in your world, and you’d learned long ago just to accept it.

You barely saw your husband in the ensuing months. He dropped by once to meet your parents and officially ask for your hand in marriage, and once more since then to update you on the wedding arrangements.

But apart from that he was like a ghost - you even forgot sometimes that you were supposed to be marrying him.

You rarely thought about the fact that by the end of this year you would be Mrs Kim Namjoon and despite the relatively long engagement - six months was a long time in the world of Bangtan - you were happy you had the time to get used to the idea of marriage.

It wasn’t until one evening when Kim Namjoon came calling for you that the reality of the situation truly sunk in.

You were leaving work - it had been a particularly difficult day so far, and absolutely nothing seemed to be going smoothly. In fact everything today had felt like it was seconds away from falling apart and you felt like you too, were going to break down.

And as you made your way across the parking lot you found Kim Namjoon, leaning against your car. How he knew which one was yours was beyond you - but you smiled at him questioningly when you were within earshot.

“Hi.” He smiled almost sheepishly, “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

He crossed his arms and squinted one eye shut as he stewed in your question for just a moment. Then he sighed heavily.

“I’ve been an asshole.”

“Huh?” You raised a brow.

Namjoon groaned and clicked his tongue, “Are you gonna make this difficult for me?”

“What? No!” You shook your head and shrugged, “I just don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The night I agreed to marry you I was a jerk. And we’ve barely seen each other twice since we got engaged two months ago.” He ran a hand through his hair, “I promised myself I wouldn’t be like that. So I’m sorry.”

You cocked your head to the side, shocked at the show of vulnerability. Namjoon was a Bangtan man - he should be cold and unforgiving - he should push away intimacy and hate the thought of opening himself up to anyone.

And yet here he was, apologising to you for something you’d assumed was just the way things were done when a marriage was arranged.

“Okay.” You nodded slowly, “I forgive you.”

He smiled softly and you found yourself thinking he really did look handsome like that.

“I’d like us to be friends at least,” He shrugged, “If nothing else.”

You smiled back, “Friends sounds good to me.”

“Good. Great. Thank you,” He gestured to your car, “So can you give me a ride home?” You gave him a questioning look, “How did you get here?”

“My driver dropped me off,” He lifted his prosthetic hand, “I can’t really drive anymore.”

There was a moment of almost awkward silence, but you refused to let something Namjoon couldn’t control, ruin the atmosphere. He’d apologised to you - he was making something of an effort - and you owed it to him to do your part.

“I can help you with that,” You told him, pointing at his hand, “Getting used to it. How long have you had it on for?”

“Half a year,” He looked away from you, “It’s still so uncomfortable.”

You took another step towards him and his eyes connected with yours.

“I don’t care.” You told him firmly, “I don’t care about the prosthetic. I swear. And I’m sorry it’s uncomfortable. I’m sorry it happened to you. But I’ll help you. I will. I promise.”

Namjoon’s eyes softened at your words and you were taken back by the way he was suddenly looking at you.

God. He really was so handsome.

“Okay.” He whispered, eyes darting across your face, “Yeah. Thank you. That would mean a lot.” The moment was suspended for another moment more, and you wondered if you might do something crazy like try and kiss him - before Namjoon cleared his throat and the spell was broken.

Jesus.

What was going on with you?

Your pulse was racing as you fumbled around your handbag for your keys and you told yourself the nerves were only because of the day you’d had. It had nothing to do with the handsome man standing in front of you.

“You’re going to have to give me directions to your house,” You told Namjoon as the car unlocked and you both climbed in, “I’ve never had the privilege of visiting.” He snorted a laugh, “It’s a two minute drive from Taehyung’s. If you drive that way I can guide you.”

“Sounds good.”

You buckled yourself in and tried to ignore the way your cheeks were flushing at the idea of you and Namjoon being in such a small space together, focusing instead on the feel of the steering wheel under your fingers, and trying as much as you could not to stare at him through the reflection of the mirrors.

That would be weird.

Weirder than you were suddenly being.

“How was work?” He asked you once you pulled the car out onto the main road.

You groaned, “Awful. Today was a bad one. We have them sometimes but it really lowers your self esteem. Some of my patients seemed like they couldn’t stand my face.”

Namjoon whistled lowly.

“I can imagine that wouldn’t be a very comforting atmosphere to be in.”

“No, not very,” You shrugged and shot him a look, “But that’s the nature of my job. Nurses are treated worse than doctors even though sometimes it feels like we do triple the work.”

Namjoon chuckled and you raised a brow, “What?”

“It’s just…” Out of the corner of your eye you saw him shake his head, “It’s like that with us sometimes. In Bangtan I mean. Taehyung is treated with so much respect and reverence - and he deserves it. Of course he does. But the rest of us… We work our asses off. And we barely get any recognition for it.” He pulled a face, “So I guess I’m trying to say I know how you’re feeling. Kind of.”

You let this information settle with you.

It made sense of course.

Bangtan was the biggest food chain of them all. The Capo demanded respect.

And in the little interaction you’d had with him, you saw how intimidating Kim Taehyung could be. Still. You imagined that had to be annoying.

“Doesn’t it piss you off?” He scoffed, “Of course it does. But that’s just Bangtan. That’s the job. We don’t do it for recognition anyway. We do it because we love Bangtan.”

You smiled at that.

It was exactly how you felt about your job.

“Yeah. I understand what you mean. As much as it sucks that I don’t always get the praise I feel I deserve… I don’t do it for that. I do it to help people.”

There was a heavy moment between you both. Namjoon seemed to be taking in what you’ve said and you found yourself thinking that if it’s this easy to talk to him you might catch yourself falling for your own husband.

“That’s a lovely way to put it,” You felt rather than saw his smile, “My house is just on this curb.”

You slowed the car down and turned to your fiance, surprised when you saw him already smiling at you.

“Thank you. For this.” His eyes were gentle and shimmering almost and you once again had to force yourself not to flush, “It’s been…. Nice.” You grinned back, “Alright. Don’t be a stranger.”

He laughed at that and shook his head.

“I won’t.” He gave you a warm look, “Goodbye Y/N. I’ll call you soon.”

You nodded, “Okay. Bye Namjoon.”

He smiled at you once more before climbing out of the car and waving goodbye at you.

And as you drove away all you could think of was this:

Kim Namjoon might very well be the best thing that could have ever happened to you.

#namjoon x reader #mafia au #arranged marraige au #smut #angst #romance #kpop #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine

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maddiwrites · 4 years ago

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The Hybrid (Prologue)

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: The Pogues rekindle their friendship with their old childhood best friend and JJ’s first crush, Y/N. Old feelings resurface for JJ and Y/N, possibly leading to a summer neither one of them could ever forget. Due to past trauma, Y/N is reluctant to let anyone into her heart, but JJ never backs down from a challenge, even if he knows it will come back to haunt him in the end.

Note: So happy to be back with another series!!! I honestly really missed posting. Unlike Secrets of the Shore, updates will be slower because I don’t have them all written out yet. A couple things I wanted to let you know before you read. I based Y/N’s family off of Gilmore Girls. I thought they were the perfect fit for this story and the show in general and I just love their dynamic. (Including Luke who I renamed Steve for obvious reasons). Chapter 1 will explain more obviously but I wanted to give you guys a little snippet of the characters and relationships. So let me know what y'all think!

Word Count: 3.3k

Outer Banks. Paradise on Earth. It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island. As you know, the Outer Banks is essentially divided into two groups. If we want to be blunt - it’s the rich and the poor. Figure Eight is home to the rich. Aka the Kooks. With houses bigger than necessary with extra rooms that go untouched, boats the size of homes on the Cut - the other side of the island. Most people who live on Figure Eight are your naturally raised assholes. People who don’t know the value of a dollar and take advantage of people who do most of their dirty work that lets them prance around the island with perfectly manicured fingernails. These hard workers are the Pogues. They live on the south side of the island where most Kooks wouldn’t be found dead. They serve fancy meals at the country club for shitty tips, mow lawns, and work their asses off at any other job for minimum wage. The drastic difference in lifestyles tend to cause many spats and arguments between the two communities. Especially between the teenagers who still don’t know how to control their raging emotions or know when to bite back their tongue. For the Kooks, every fight is a fight for dominance where as the Pogues fight for equality - to put the Kooks in their place. Many of these fights happen at summer parties where the two groups clash to find a good time with their friends filled with alcohol, drugs, and good music.

That’s where they find themselves tonight. The infamous Pogues. John B, JJ, Kie, Pope, and now Sarah Cameron. Although born a natural Kook, she’s earned her spot next to the adventurous teens and her boyfriend. Unlike her brother Rafe who basically is the leader of his notorious group. Topper and Kelce are his best friends who follow him blindly.

The Pogues watch them from their spot surrounding the keg. Kie purses her lips in distaste as the boys cat call for the ladies around them. Somehow most of them finding it flattering. Sarah sips on her beer to hide her embarrassment, often wondering how she and her brother grew up to be so different. Pope and John B stay mostly disinterested, only worried if they try to make a pass at an unwilling girl or fire a degrading comment at their short tempered friend. JJ Maybank is known around the island for his trouble making behavior. Usually if he gets in trouble for fights, no one ever asks who the other people were in the scuffle. Because if JJ Maybank is in the fight, he’s the one who started it, right? Wrong. In fact, JJ usually is never the one to start it. He’s good at keeping his head down and only speaking when spoken to when it comes to the Kooks - the only form of advice worth taking from his father. But his short temper is something the Kooks his age loved to take advantage of because they liked getting a rise out of him. It was like an adrenaline rush.

Luckily, tonight both groups were keeping their distance, either only talking to each other or random Tourons that have found their way to the party. This is usually JJ’s favorite part of a boneyard party. Finding his one fish in a sea of many that he can reel in just for the night and never have to worry about seeing them again.

He has his eyes set on a beautiful blonde making her way to the bonfire when all of a sudden Kie’s voice pulls him out of his trance.

“What’s she doing here?”

JJ follows her line of vision, spotting you walking down the wooden steps that lead to the beach, pulling your best friend behind you by his wrist. He first notices your smile and how it brightens up your entire face. Then of course his eyes scan down your slim but athletically toned body. You’re wearing a pair of jean shorts and a cropped white T shirt that says UNC across the chest. Who knew someone could look so good without even trying?

Well JJ did. He’s known it for a while.

“Careful. I think you’re drooling,” John B whispers in his best friend’s ear.

JJ pushes him away and mutters, “Shut up. No I’m not.”

But maybe he was.

Y/N Y/L/N is a unique resident of the island. Unlike majority of the island, she doesn’t fall in either Kook or Pogue category. She’s what everyone calls the Hybrid.

People who work hard for what they have but haven’t fallen to be Pogue status. Quite literally living in the middle in a place they call the Crest.

Your story is well versed among the gossipers of the island (which tends to be just about everybody). And mainly that’s because of who your grandparents are. Claude and Doris Y/L/N. Two of the riches people on the island, living in a three story house on the beach. Many people fear them, others envy them. Most feel both. Even Ward Cameron walks on egg shells around them, which is quite often, considering he works for Claude. They’re the kind of people who have never heard of Barefoot wine or Walmart. They keep their noses up and turn a blind eye to the suffering communities around them. Thirty four years ago, Doris gave birth to a daughter that couldn’t be more opposite than them. Lorelai Y/L/N was a wild child. A rule breaker. She snuck out at nights, dated boys her parents would never approve of, dabbled in breaking the law here and there. It didn’t matter how many times her parents disciplined her. She always managed to make her parents’ life a living hell.

No one was surprised when word got passed around that Lorelai had gotten pregnant at eighteen. Although it was with another Kook, she brought shame upon her family name when she refused to get an abortion, even when her mom tried dragging her by her hair.

Lorelai risked everything by running away from her parents’ home in the middle of a windy night. With only one suitcase, the baby daddy out of the picture, and less than a grand in her pocket, she managed to make a life for herself on the South side of the island. She worked two jobs, found an affordable apartment for cheap rent, and managed to save some money before her babies were born.

Yes, babies. As in more than one. Five months after running away from home, she gave birth to twin girls and they instantly became her entire life. With the help of her best friend Steve, who she met one month after being on her own, meeting him at his automotive shop when she very much literally rolled her junky car into the garage, she raised you and your sister on the Cut. The two of you are her greatest accomplishment. Every now and then, she mentally throws up a middle finger to everybody who doubted her, proud of who the two of you have become.

Right before you turned ten, your mom took a business risk and opened her own Cafe. The Bikini Beans cafe, very popular amongst both Kooks and Pogues. The business did so well that she was able to move the three of you out of your shitty apartment into a beautiful one story home with three bedrooms in between the Cut and Figure Eight, aka the Crest, the summer going into your freshman year.

You actually used to be best friends with John B Routledge, JJ Maybank, and Pope Heyward. It was easier being friends with them than the girls, finding more joy in sports and rough housing than makeup and gossip.

Doing the same summer that you moved, your mom pulled you out of Kildare County High and placed you in Outer Banks Private Academy. Aka Kook Academy. Around this time, your grandparents had also become more involved in your life, and you wondered if they had somehow bribed your mom into forcing you to transfer schools. You tried asking her during one of your many fights that started with you begging her to keep you at Kildare County High, but she quickly shut you down and told you to be grateful. That was ironic coming from the woman who ran away from the people giving her an expensive high school career.

You had no choice but to do what your grandparents wanted and attend Kook Academy. Making friends was a lot harder there than it was in Kildare County High. You managed to make one friend in your freshman year. Andre Cortez. Due to an incident a couple years back, you built thick walls and Andre was the only one able to break them down. You were grateful for your friendship, but hanging out with him was nothing like hanging out with the Pogues.

When you transferred schools, you lost touch with the Pogues slowly. Your life became busy with school and playing dress up for your grandparents and the boys were starting to work. Eventually all contact was cut and ever since, you’ve felt a void in your heart.

“Look,” You tell Andre. “I told you I would be your wing woman and I’m not backing down from what could possibly be the most important role in my life.”

You didn’t notice the Pogues or any of the stares around you. It’s true you’re not much of a party girl. I mean, you’ll go out here and there, have a drink or two, but you felt more comfortable at places where you weren’t surrounded by drunk and horny teenagers.

“He’s probably not even here,” Andre says. He’s trying to look nonchalant but you notice the way his eyes dance from face to face of the people around him.

“He told you he was going to be here, right?” You ask him with one brow raised. Andre nods. “Then, we’ll find him.”

Sarah and Kie never made any effort to talk to you at school, but to be fair, neither have you. You’ve heard mixed reviews, some people call them spoiled brats, ungrateful...some even go as far as calling them ‘The Cut Sluts.’ Of course you never take any of those things to heart. You can’t judge a book but it's cover. Plus, they’re friends with your old best friends. They can’t be that bad for John B and JJ and Pope to be hanging out with them, right?

“You think she'll come over here?” Kie asks. No one’s ever said it out loud, but her friends wonder if deep down, Kie was a little jealous of you. Because you were their first real girl friend. You were the first girl they ever let in and opened their heart too. That was a tough pill for Kie to swallow when she originally thought she was that girl. Of course the boys don’t like you any more than Kie and vice versa. But sometimes Kie wishes she could have grown up with the boys the same way you had.

“Probably not. Unless she’s drinking,” Pope says and motions towards the keg they’re near.

“I have an idea,” John B says and fills up a red solo cup. He hands it to JJ. “Why don’t you go offer her a cup.”

JJ snags the cup out of John B’s hand and glares at him. “Fuck off, dude.”

“Do you guys ever see her around at school?” Pope asks the girls.

Sarah shrugs. “Not really. She doesn’t really get a long with my old group of friends.”

Kie rolls her eyes. “No one gets along with your old group of friends.”

Sarah playfully shoves Kie by the shoulder and they laugh.

“I heard she turned down Raymond Easterling a couple weeks ago and he didn’t take it very well,” Pope says, remembering the words he heard from the kids in his class roaming the school hallways.

Raymond goes to Kildcare County High with the Pogues. He’s known to be a trouble maker and a class clown. He works with JJ at the country club. The kid can make JJ laugh sometimes, but he wouldn’t necessarily say he likes him all that much. He can be an arrogant asshole with an ego bigger than it should be.

“She turns down everybody,” Sarah says. “Some people at my school call her ‘The Heart Sucker’ because she can pull people in with the snap of her fingers and break their heart just as quickly.”

Something stirred in the pit of JJ’s stomach.

“Hey! Where you going?” John B calls out to JJ who’s making his way deeper into the sea of people on the beach.

“Taking advantage of a good boneyard party, my friend,” JJ calls back and slugs the rest of his beer. Looking left and right, he searches for the blonde he had eyes on earlier. Because right now, he needed a distraction.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The party starts to die down a little after midnight. Some people leave to find another party, some are passed out in the back of their cars, and others had already found what they were looking for - someone to leave with.

The boneyard party wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be. You had found a couple of kids from your school who were nice enough to make small talk with you while Andre left to find a guy named Devon, a Touron he’s been talking to who’s renting for the entire summer.

Now you’re waiting for Andre to come back so the two of you can walk home. You find comfort under a slanted palm tree towards the back of the beach, scrolling through random apps on your phone to pass the time.

“Y/N?” You look up from you phone and smile when you see your former best friend inching closer to you, squinting in the dark to see if it’s really you.

“Maybank? What are you still doing here?” You stand up and pat the sand off your hands on you thighs.

Your heart skips a beat in your chest when you look at him. He’s beautiful. Lucious blonde hair, perfectly tanned skin, piercing blue eyes. You always knew JJ was going to grow up to be gorgeous. He was cute when he was younger. At least you always thought so.

“I was just leaving, but I thought I saw you sitting here and wanted to make sure you were all right.” He knows it’s not like you to stay this late at a party, especially all by yourself. When he first saw you sitting there, he didn’t know if he should say something. Mostly due to nerves of seeing you again. But the other Pogues had already left and he didn’t trust anyone else at the party to be near you alone late at night. It didn’t matter if you were sober or not.

“Aw. Was JJ Maybank worried about me?” You tease. Talking to him felt easy. As if you never stopped being friends. A few years ago, you and JJ had the best banter. Despite constantly bickering back and forth, John B always swore the two of you would get married one day. The two of you just always clicked like a natural connection. And even now, when only seeing each other every now and then for a few minutes at a time, it felt normal. You smirk when JJ rolls his eyes. “I’m kidding. Yeah, I’m okay. Just waiting for my friend to come back from his little rendezvous,” You say.

JJ nods. “Did you have a good time? I feel like I never you see at these things.”

“Yeah. Parties aren’t really my thing. But Andre was nervous to meet this guy he’s been talking to for a little while so I came for moral support.”

“Looks like he didn’t need much of the support.”

You shrug. “It’s better that way, anyway. I don’t mind waiting for him. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Did you have a good time tonight? I hear your quite the ladies’ man at these things.”

“Come on, Sparky. You know better than to believe everything you hear.”

Your face lights up at the mention of your old nickname. You use to always be busting out the seams with energy. On days where the boys just wanted to chill and play video games, you would drag them to the park for a game of kick ball. Or when they wanted to sleep in after a long week, you showed up at 8 am to drag them out of bed to catch the morning waves. So one day JJ started calling you Sparky, and it stuck with the rest of your little gang. You always pretended to hate it, but secretly you loved it.

“Oh I don’t believe everything I hear. I do, however, believe what I see. And your arm around that tall blonde in the little black dress looked quite convincing.”

You first saw JJ at the party when he was making his way to the pretty girl by the water. Your teeth involuntarily clenched and there was a twisted feeling in your stomach you couldn’t shake whenever you looked at them.

In that instant, JJ felt grateful for the dark sky. He felt the rush of heat rise up his neck to his cheeks before he could stop it. He knew the motivation to see that girl was because of you. He just wished you never saw it. But he didn’t know why.

“I walked her home. She wasn’t my type,” JJ plays it off.

“I didn’t realize you had a type,” You giggle, but a small part felt relieved to hear this. “So what is it? Your type?”

Hybrids with a Pogue attitude, bright smile, beautiful eyes, and a mouth that could make any sailor turn around, JJ thought.

“I don’t know. Haven’t figured it out yet.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Well, when you figure it out let me know.”

“Why? So you can transform into my ideal girl?” He teases.

Now you’re the one thankful for the dark sky. “In your dreams, Maybank. But so far, I do have the perfect wing-woman track record, so if you needed help -”

“I don’t think I need any help in that department. Thank you very much.”

You throw your hands up in fake surrender. “Ooo. Touchy subject.”

JJ rolls his eyes at the same time your phone pings with a text message. You pull it out of your shorts pocket and open the text from Andre, telling you to leave without him because he’s gonna stay out late with Devon and won’t know what time he’s going to be done.

“Everything all right?” JJ says, watching you read the message.

You lock your phone and stuff it in your back pocket again. “Like I said. Perfect wing-woman track record.”

“That was Andre?”

“Yeah. He’s most likely not coming home tonight.”

“Lucky bastard.”

“At least one of us is,” You joke.

JJ’s grin slightly falters but you don’t catch it. You have no idea how much he wishes the two of you could be equally as lucky. Together.

“Well, I should probably go,” You say and bend down to grab your flip flops.

“Let me walk you home,” JJ offers.

“Oh no. It’s okay -”

“You’re cute. It’s wasn’t up for debate. I’m not letting you walk back by yourself.”

You scoff lightly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just humor me.”

You roll your eyes and smirk but choose not to argue. In fact, you’re excited to spend more time with JJ. It’s been so long.

“Fine.”

“And here I thought you might’ve grown out of your stubborn phase by now.”

You shove him playfully by the shoulder. “Shut up!”

And just like that, it felt like old times.

#jj fanfiction #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #obx imagine #obx fic #jj maybank one shot

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aro-is-gay-af · 4 years ago

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The Midnight of Despair | Volturi Kings x fem!reader

As you all can see, I got carried away just a little with this one. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but I'm planning at least part two, since this part got soooo long.

Anyway!

I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing. Sorry for any grammatical errors, as well as any confusion with syntax. English isn't my native but I always try my best! Constructive criticism is always welcomed.

Please, pay attention to the warnings. If you are uncomfortable with any of the topics, simply do not read.

I pictured here Aro from the films (as Michael Sheen is perfect for this part), Caius from the films (maybe a little bit older) and Marcus from the films but his younger self (maybe 20?). Also, I wrote at one point that [Y/N] has blonde hair and blue eyes but it just helped me with the descriptions. Obviously, you can picture characters according to your wishes.

Warnings: Rape (graphic description!), Depression, PTSD, Swear words, Forced Pregnancy

Word count: 7816 (!)

Summary: [Y/N] and Bella are childhood friends. They were always there for each other. [Y/N] had tough times and struggles with everyday life. Bella faces depression after Edward had left her. [Y/N] tries to get her going and alive. One day [Y/N] is raped and gets pregnant with the rapist. Not long after that it turns out that Edward got himself into the mess with Volturi. [Y/N], even traumatized and in pieces, will not let Bella go without her supervision to Italy. What is going to happen when [Y/N] will stay at Volterra? Is she really predestined to be Kings' mate? Is she going to have her baby or abort the pregnancy? Will the trauma go away or is she going to struggle for a long time?

You thought that the death of your parents was enough to break you. As they say, if you’re not willing to bend, you’ll break. And you did. After all.

Ever since you’ve been born, everything went downhill. You were a weak child and within your first five years of life, you’ve gone through countless surgeries. Something was terribly wrong with your spine and the doctors were worried that you wouldn't be able to move normally.

You got your ‘happily ever after’. After fourteen surgeries and taking more than a dozen medications, you could be considered healthy. It made you remember the better part of your childhood. At this point, you couldn’t even recall constant visits at hospital or ingesting enormous amount of drugs.

What you could recall, was the agony that your mom went through while dying of pancreatic cancer. You tried to help her but there was literally no help available. Sure, chemo did help, but only a little tiniest bit. When someone got this type of cancer, there was only one way to die. It was neither pretty, nor pleasant.

So your mother died when you were sixteen. Your father followed shortly after her. He suffered from severe depression after your mother’s passing, but it was the car accident that got him killed. You were just before your graduation.

You’ve finished school and tried to go on. It wasn’t exactly an easy path to follow. You had the feeling that fate had made you its whore and the devil knows his jokes. Somehow, you got through college. You used the money from your dad's insurance policy entirely for your education. It was the only thing you could do to secure your future.

At 22, you got a job at the same hospital where doctor Cullen worked. You were a nurse on the paediatrics ward, but the hospital in Forks was so small that you often found yourself working with doctor Cullen. He was always kind to you and exuded a fatherly warmth. However, like everyone from Cullen family, he was slightly withdrawn from all conversations and social activities.

You noticed a slight change in his behaviour when your best friend, Bella, started dating with the doctor's youngest son, Edward. Carlisle has been talking to you more and more. The conversations weren't long – more like short exchanges of words, whether about his family’s well-being or any leisure activities both of you devoted yourselves after work. Nevertheless, you started calling each other by the others’ given name.

You met with Bella on average once a week. Sure, you were four years older than her, but the age difference never was a problem. You always got along well, and age had nothing to do with it. With time, you've watched Bella thrive during her relationship with Edward and you've enjoyed her happiness. Your relationship had loosened a little, but you didn't hold it against her. With Forks being so small, you could easily meet Bella on the street or in a shop and talk to her about silly things or this boyfriend of hers. It made her blush furiously every time you brought up the topic, especially if Edward waited nearby.

And then, just like that, something snapped. Of course, you heard about their huge quarrel about god knows what, and that Bella wanted to make herself scarce immediately. Charlie called you that night if , by any chance, you could talk some sense into her. Bella not once picked up her phone and then she got her stupid ass into the hospital. And magically reconciled with Edward. That’s when you started to be suspicious. Something wasn’t right about this situation, at all, but you let it be.

Time passed and even though you liked Carlisle as a colleague, you became gradually suspicious about him and his family. Things that you noticed were little, almost insignificant, but something told you that there’s more than meets the eye. Bella herself began to limit contact with you, mainly due to her lack of time for Edward. But when you did get a chance to meet and talk, the subject of Edward still came to the surface.

You tried to understand your friend, while not understanding her at all. You also were in love once but your mother's illness and then your father's death took too much of a toll on you, to experience your first love in such an intense way. It was incomprehensible to you, how Bella could lose her head so much for this boy. And yet you tried, tried to be there when Bella needed you the most. Simply because you were a good friend and also because you needed a friend.

You were left alone, out in this world, with no one to care about and no one to love. Only Bella, as present and, most importantly, alive person, connected you with your childhood and good memories from that time. She was the only one left. You considered her your family and you didn’t want to lose her too. Not after all you’ve been through.

At the day of her birthday, you saw her quickly after her school. You gave her a small gift and you both agreed to meet a day later because Edward's family had invited her to stay at their place. After that birthday, everything changed. The next day Bella went missing. You went to her house exactly as agreed and Charlie said she had been gone for a few hours.

When Bella was found later that evening by Sam, Charlie's colleague, everything became frighteningly clear. The Cullens had moved out of town. Apparently, Carlisle had gotten a lucrative job somewhere else. That didn't surprise you, he was a really great doctor. But how could he not mention a word of it to you? Not that you were so close to him but you considered him a good comrade of yours and moving out of town like this, without a word… It seemed extremely strange to you.

The months that followed were very similar. Bella fell into a deep depression and apathy. You came to visit her, but during these visits it was mainly you who talked. You talked about work, about your next qualification course and about the anniversary of your mum's death. Bella mostly remained silent. Charlie confirmed that, yes, she did go to school, but apart from that, she sat in her room all day and stared at the window.

You knew from Charlie that she was slowly trying to reconnect with her friends. And that she was spending a lot of time with that boy from the reservation. You were happy because it meant that your friend was slowly coming back to life. Maybe not back to normal, not yet, but at least she was trying. And you were trying too. To be a good friend, a good sister to her.

You started talking more during your visits at her house. Unlike before, the subject of Edward didn't exist. It was as if he had never existed. So you did not mention him at all. Bella was healing, slowly, just as you were, when both of your parents died. She was there for you, even if you could only talk to her on the phone because, at that time, she permanently lived with Renee.

For the first time in several months, you hoped that things would somehow work out. In your life, the moments when you were truly happy never lasted long. It was the same this time. One day, you went to Port Angeles to buy new clothes for work. Yours were still from your university days, worn out, but not so long ago you were short of money and preferred to spend it on other things rather than buying new clothes.

By the time you got back to your car it was pretty late. The car park was deserted. On your way to the car, a man accosted you and, before you knew it, he had hit you on the head with something heavy. When you woke up, you were in a squalid alley. The man was pressing you against a wall with all his strength. You only realised what he was going to do, when you felt a cool breeze brush against your bare legs. Your trousers and underwear were almost at your ankles. You started to squirm, trying to free yourself from his iron grip. You heard his quiet giggle next to your ear.

"Don't resist angel, I’ll be quick," he whispered in your ear, pawing at your breasts with his left hand. You felt sick to your stomach. He had hideous breath, as if he had been drinking for three days, then puked and drank again. You started to jerk harder, to pull away, but it only caused you pain. He held tight, pushing against you with his whole body and whispering disgusting things under his breath. When he finally entered you, he tugged hard on your hair. He made no effort to cover your mouth because you didn't even try to scream. You were out of breath, unable to say a word. You were afraid that he would kill you. You wanted him to go away so that the pain would end and you could finally go home.

When he finished, he let you go and just walked away. You stood there, half naked, frozen and shaken, for god knows how long. You were unable to move. When you felt his semen running down your leg, you finally managed to vomit. Your cheek was bruised and scratched from how hard he pressed you against the rough wall. You wanted to go home, but you didn't have the strength to get up from the street.

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but you finally got up. You got dressed and walked to your car. Everything hurt. You didn't want to, but you knew, you had to go to the hospital. You could not leave it like that. He had already hurt you, but what about the others? You couldn't let that happen. All the way to the hospital in Port Angeles your hands were trembling. Returning to that memory, you didn't even remember how you got to the ER.

At the hospital, they took care of you properly. They called the police. Two female doctors were there for a medical examination. The nurses were very nice. You tried to put on a good face. You've thought about how your sexual experiences has been so far. Your first sex, like most people's, was terrible. Your boyfriend was two years older, you were 17 and it all went wrong. You were in pain. He didn't seem too happy either. Up until you graduated from high school, you tried to make it work somehow, but there were never any fireworks. It wasn't until college that you discovered the good side of sex.

However, you never had sex with someone you loved more than life. You haven't met anyone like that. And you were sure that sex with that person would be unique and exceptional. Until now, of course. Lying on a hospital bed, you felt exploited. Abused. Filthy. Humiliated. How can one do something like that to another person? The nurse asked if someone could come and pick you up, and you didn't have much of a choice. You called Bella. While she was on her way to the hospital, you let the police officers question you. You mechanically slurred the words as if it wasn't about you at all. As if it wasn’t you that had been raped.

As soon as you saw Bella, you were no longer able to pretend that nothing had happened. You were sobbing and she hugged you tight, telling you that he would pay for it. You weren't so sure about that. You wanted to be home as soon as possible, so you went back to Forks. Bella said nothing while driving because there was nothing that could be said. In the shower, you scrubbed yourself so hard with the pumice that you thought you had taken off all your skin. To your absolute disgust, you could still feel his touch on you. You could hear him whisper against your ear and you could smell his hideous breath.

A week has passed. Bella texted you every day, and you were able to hang out almost every other day. She was a good sister, a great friend. She didn't want to leave you alone in this. Despite being offered leave, you went to work. You didn't want to keep thinking about what happened. Each time, after taking a bath, you were unable to look in the mirror. On the first day, right after scrubbing, you decided to take a look. You had bruises on your stomach, thighs, buttocks and breasts. Your forearms were scraped, your cheek was scratched and bruised. The worst of it was that you had been bleeding for days. The gynaecologist said, it was due to too much force, and the fact that you actively resisted for a while.

You were trying to get back to normal. You went to work, you were seeing Bella and taking your course. But no one could touch you. You didn't even shake hands to say hello. You didn't care at all, you couldn’t endure a touch anymore. Not in any way. You didn't get your period, but the doctor said it could happen. It was a shock to the body and a lot of pain to bear. Also, you bled for almost a week after the rape.

You started to be afraid to go out alone. When in a shop or at work, if anyone approached you from behind, you started panicking and hyperventilating. You couldn’t walk ordinarily on the street. You looked behind every two or three minutes to assure yourself that nobody was following you. Your hands trembled while driving the car or making the tea. Your eyes were starting to water as soon as someone even tried to touch you. You had nightmares and you started losing your mind because of this.

When your period did not come in the following month, you began to worry. Surely you couldn't get pregnant with this... monster. Not you. Of course you have checked. You would not be able to live in such ignorance. It turned out that yes, you indeed were pregnant. When the doctor confirmed it, you fainted. Not you, not like that. You didn't even think you'd ever be a mum. Let alone like this. You hated your body even more and the fact that it had betrayed you in such a villainous way.

You knew this path led to madness. You were in an even worse mental condition, than after losing your mum; than after dad died in the accident. You have shed countless tears. You didn't want to abort this pregnancy, and at the same time you wanted it with all your heart. If only you were able to defend yourself. Break away from him and run as far away as possible. It would never have happened. But you were weak and didn't even have the energy to scream. Would it have made any difference though?

You were constantly beating yourself up with thoughts about whether you should keep the baby, when something completely bizarre happened. Jacob called you that he had to rescue Bella after jumping off a cliff. Annoyed, you got in your car and drove up to the Swans' house. Bella's car wasn't there, so you waited patiently in yours. When they arrived, you were boiling with rage.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!” you shouted, as you got out of the car.

Bella rolled her eyes. She looked miserable. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was soaked through. She smiled weakly towards you.

“It was just for fun, you know” she muttered, as you hugged her tightly. It was your first closer contact since…

“It was just for sport,” she tried again.

You snorted in annoyance.

“Yeah, sure, get inside before you get sick.”

As you both stepped onto the porch, Jacob unexpectedly grabbed Bella's wrist. They shared a look.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes. You can go now, Jake,” she muttered, trying to disentangle herself from his grasp.

You smiled weakly at him, while Bella was looking for her keys.

“Cool, I'll take care of her until Charlie gets back. Thanks for saving her stupid ass,” you said. Jacob smiled amused, but still seemed slightly tense.

“No problem. Always at your service,” he joked. “Well... See ya around,” he said goodbye and walked away to his car.

You walked into the house with Bella.

“What were you thinking? You could have died” you muttered under your breath, stripping off your jacket.

“Well...actually I wasn't thinking, like, at all” Bella admitted, smiling apologetically at you.

“Next time think about Charlie,” you said, hugging her once more. Your body screamed that you shouldn't do that, but you were glad that Bella was okay.

While Bella changed into dry clothes, you made hot tea for both of you. Someone knocked on the door. The knocking was not from the front, but from the courtyard. You walked slowly to the door and opened it. Edward's sister, Alice, stood in front of you. You wouldn't have known what she looked like, if Bella hadn't shown you pictures of her. But other than that, you knew quite a bit about her, because when Bella was still with Edward, she couldn’t kept her mouth shut about Alice.

“Hi. Can I come in?” she asked politely. She tried to look normal, but there was something in her behaviour that made you nervous. You were about to reply, when Bella appeared in the kitchen.

“Alice!” she squealed, throwing herself around the brunette's neck. After a moment, she pulled away and looked at Alice in disbelief. "Are you really here? Or am I just dreaming this?" asked Bella.

It was your turn to roll the eyes.

“Of course she’s here” you said, now slightly annoyed. “Don’t be bothered by me, please, proceed to whatever you wanted to say.”

Your sarcastic tone was not intended, but justified. You were slowly beginning to get fed up with this family's games. First they move out and turn Bella's life upside down, and now the big comeback? Something's not right here. Besides, at that moment, you weren't the right person to play with. You had enough problems of your own and your life was messed up enough. What you didn't know at that moment, was that everything was about to change fundamentally very soon.

Alice took no notice of you.

"Bella, listen. Edward thinks you committed suicide. He told me that he doesn't want to live either, so he is on his way to the Volturi to ask them for an execution."

You had no idea what she was talking about. Bella was terrified, and you didn't know what was going on here.

"What, who the fuck are Volturi? Did Edward get involved with some cult? Also, how did he know Bella killed herself?" you asked, not understanding anything of what Alice was talking about earlier.

"We have to go to Italy, Bella,” she ignored you once more. “If they refuse him, I'm not sure what he'll do" as Alice spoke, Bella began to gather herself quickly to leave.

You grabbed her hand.

"And where do you think you are going?" you asked in disbelief. Bella looked at you apologetically.

"Y/N, I have to go. They're going to murder him. Just the fact that I'm alive will convince him."

You snorted in disbelief.

"You're dead serious? And can't you call him and tell him it's a misunderstanding? Besides, Bella, this guy ghosted you. He left you here, alone, with not one explanation and you want to fly to the other side of the world to save this dumb ass?" you asked, trying to take your mind off this ludicrous circumstance.

“Oh my god, we’ll take her with us if she’s not going to back down” said Alice in exasperation.

“And to your kind information, I won't back down. Your douchebag brother and the rest of your family turned her adrift. I was the one who pulled her out of her depression, and I will not let the exact same thing happen again because of any of you,”you hissed out in anger. You saw something in Alice's eyes that you considered to be admiration.

You looked at Bella expectantly.

“Y/N, I still love him. I cannot let this go” Bella whispered and you felt as your chest tightened. “Please…”

You heaved a heavy sigh.

“Okey, but I’m coming with you,” you decided and noticed that Alice's eyes were momentarily clouded with mist. You had no idea what was going on here, but you were sure that this whole affair with the Volturi, whoever the hell they were, didn't sound good.

After a few seconds, Alice looked at Bella, then at you and back at Bella.

“Get your coats, we have to go now,” she said.

“But Alice...” protested Bella.

“There's no time for that. We'll explain everything to her on the way. If we start now, we won't get out of here until noon” she muttered exasperatedly, walking out of the house. You looked at Bella.

“Bells, what's this all about?” you asked, and she just sighed quietly. You both quickly got your shoes on.

“We'll tell you on the plane but I'm afraid the Volturi won't like that a lot,” she said with worried expression on her face.

When you were at the airport waiting for a plane, you had countless questions in your head. Why the fuck Edward was pulling such nonsense? Why to be so dramatic about thing that didn’t even happen? Did this idiot really get involved in some sort of cult? And why was his sister so concerned about it that she decided to tell you ‘everything’, whatever needed to be said? However, the question that kept you wondering was who were the mysterious Volturi and what could they possibly resent about you?

One thing you were sure of. There hadn't been a moment since the sexual assault when you hadn't thought about it. And now your thoughts were occupied by the mysterious Volturi and you immensely wanted to find out what it was really all about.

⋎⋎⋎

On a plane ride, you found out that vampires are no fairy tales and your best friend was in love with one. It was a wild thought but, as soon as Alice started taking, you knew it wasn’t a joke. You were given so much information at once that you were unable to respond to anything as Alice finished her long monologue. You had a drink of water, although at that moment you very much regretted not being able to drink whisky.

“Okey, lets say I get most of this…” you said with a low voice, trying to be careful with what you’re saying. “But can you tell me who are Volturi and why would they want to decapitate Edward?” you asked, looking sideways, afraid that someone might hear.

Alice let out a sigh.

“The Volturi are the equivalent of the justice system in our world. They are the ones who created the laws that help us hide from the world, and they are the ones who enforce them. They consider themselves… sort of royalty, as their leaders – Aro, Caius and Marcus – are over three thousand years old.”

If you were to be honest, you were not very good at processing this information. Three thousand years? The first thought that popped into your mind was that they must be immensely lonely. You were sure you wouldn't want to live so many years without having anyone worthy by your side. Later, Alice quickly summarised all the laws that every vampire must obey. They weren't complicated, but when you thought about it a little longer, some of them weren't so easy to follow.

“I don't want to whine, or come off as ungrateful or anything like that, but... didn't you just break the law? By telling me about you?” you asked cautiously, not knowing if what you were saying was right.

Alice sighed again, this time heavier than before.

“It’s complicated” she said succinctly, which interested Bella, who was eating some kind of sandwich.

“This vision of yours was about [Y/N]?” she asked Alice curiously. Alice merely nodded. When Alice told you about her gift, and this was at the very beginning of the story, you found it hard to believe. It wasn’t so unbelievable now.

"Eat something," Alice said to you. "It's good for the baby" she added after a moment, seeing you hesitate. You swallowed heavily, as you suddenly felt sick. The memories of that evening came back.

Alice smiled softly, as if knowing exactly what you were thinking about. And this was supposed to be Edward's gift.

"Do you want to know the sex of the baby?" she asked, and your eyes almost fell out.

"Can you predict that?" you asked in disbelief. She and Bella both smiled. Alice nodded vigorously.

"Yeah, sure. I can't predict if the baby... you know, if it will be born, however, the sex I can tell you.”

You pondered on it, while eating your sandwich. The nausea eased, when you could think of something different than that unlucky evening. Before you knew it, you fell asleep and Alice woke you up when you landed in Italy. As Alice drove the stolen car, you tried to admire the beautiful views of Tuscany outside your window. When you had almost reached Volterra, you thought how wonderful it would be to live here.

⋎⋎⋎

This stupid boyfriend of hers. That was all his fault. Of course, Bella made it at the last minute. You, together with Alice, went to abandon the stolen car somewhere. Although, you had a feeling that you would be returning the exact same way. You tried to reassure yourself. Of course you’ll be returning. Or maybe not? If you were honest, you gave no fucks about it. You had no one who’d wait for you at home, your parents died, you were brutally raped not so long ago, and you didn’t even know if you wanted to keep the baby. Maybe dying today isn’t such a bad idea?

You have reached the square and entered the palace at a very convenient time. The guy who looked like a wardrobe and the other one, much shorter than him and blonde, looked like they were about to murder Edward in this instant. And actually, you felt like you could’ve murdered Edward too. Barely Alice closed the door, you didn't even glance at the two of them, but immediately began to scold Edward for what he had done. To hell with his gift!

“You stupid, immature, irresponsible, reckless and selfish bastard!” you started descriptively, and even Bella was taken aback by your behaviour. Alice raised her eyebrows and two other vampires looked at themselves and then straight at you. Edward had no time for any reply. “If you ever, I repeat, if you ever again do something as childish and irresponsible as expose my best friend to a nervous breakdown and months of depression, I promise you, here and now, that I will decapitate you myself. You're old, and yet a five-year-old child is smarter than you. You utter imbecile,” you hissed with hatred.

Of course, your malice towards him was temporary, but it's been a long time since anyone has angered you like that. The shorter man laughed under his breath, and the other one, who looked like a wardrobe, said:

“Can we keep her? I like the way she’s ruling the roost.”

He fell silent, as a short, pretty blonde woman entered the room. Her face was like a child's, but her eyes... bright red, staring at no one else but you.

“Jane” greeted her Edward. She didn’t even look at him.

“Aro sent me to see what was taking so long” she said. The atmosphere immediately became tense. Edward and Alice seemed to stiffen at the sound of Aro's name. You were curious but not frightened. Not yet.

Jane turned and immediately started walking towards the long corridor. Bella just looked at Edward, and you glanced at Alice.

“Do what she says,” she muttered to you and you both kept pace with the couple in the front.

Needless to say, it was the most stressful and also the most terrifying lift ride you've ever experienced. Not to add the creepy music background. You guessed it was supposed to make you feel better, but instead it made your whole stomach go up to your throat. You were standing right in the middle, next to Bella, holding Alice's hand. The vampire, who looked like a wardrobe, kept looking at you. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. Puking on someone's shoes isn't going to make this situation any better. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Edward smile. Yeah, the situation you’ve found yourself in was extremely funny indeed.

When you reached the main chamber, you didn't know what to look at first. At the vampires standing against every wall? Not very wise of you. At the marble floor? Nothing to be afraid of for now, so no. You probably should have looked at the three thrones in front of you and the vampires that sat on them, but instead, you were interested in the Latin phrase engraved between the columns above you.

You glanced at your company. Edward looked as if he was about to die. Maybe that's what's going to happen? Alice looked very out of sorts, and Bella, well, she was hanging onto Edward's arm and also looked like she was about to leave this world for good. She was unnaturally pale and you though she was going to faint any second. But it never happened. The rest of the room felt extremely comfortable. For a moment, you turned your head towards the boy who called out to Jane. You did not let go of Alice's hand but you did not feel any anxiety. Curiosity prevailed, mainly because you had come to terms with the fact of your imminent death.

“Sister! Sent you out to get one and you bring back two. And two halves,” the boy who’s just called Jane his sister probably was talking about me and Bella. “Such a clever girl,” he praised her like he wasn’t his sister but someone else entirely. You sighed heavily. Maybe they’re also into incest-kind-of-relationships? Who knows. You looked above your head again. There was a short inscription “vita brevis, ars longa” but you knew the rest of it. Latin was obligatory in every medical school.

When the man from the middle throne stood up, it was to him that you directed all your attention. You felt that something about him was... you had no idea how to describe it, but you felt a strange pull towards him. As if some invisible force had power over you.

“What a happy surprise!” he said pointedly, wide smile on his face. “Bella is alive after all. Isn’t that wonderful?” he said cheerfully, while walking towards Edward. At that exact moment, you realised that you had managed to get yourself into a huge mess. The lair of the vampires. And you were only a weak human. Recently raped. With a baby under your heart.

As soon as the man stepped down from the platform, you were unable to take your eyes off him. His posture, the way he spoke, his demeanour, it all made you feel incredible respect for him. You’ve never felt this secure and calm in your entire life.

“I love a happy ending,” the man said, while he took Edwards’ hand into his. “They’re so rare.”

You were wondering why this man took Edward’s hand in the first place. You did not have to wait long for an explanation.

“Aro can read every thought that I’ve ever had. With one touch” Edward explained to Bella but you were listening too. Very carefully listening. You’ve finally managed to know the name of the vampire. Aro. It suited him well. Although his eyes were a little scary, you were delighted with his charisma and approach to guests. You realised that indeed, they are called the royal family for a reason.

Aro smiled to Edward.

��Her blood appears to you so much,” he whispered, and you had a hard time hearing his words well. Aro’s gaze rested on Bella. “It makes me thirsty. How can you stand to be so close to her?” he asked Edward, who was feeling more and more uncomfortable. You could tell by the fact that he was practically standing like a statue.

“It is not without difficulty,” muttered Edward from behind his clenched teeth.

You swallowed hard, as Aro turned his gaze to Bella again but he smiled.

“Ah, I can see that” he said pleased, moving away from Edward and focusing all his attention on Bella.

“Although you’re a quite soul-reader yourself, Edward, you cannot read Bella’s thoughts” he made a rather dramatic pause, still staring stubbornly at your best friend. “Fascinating” he said, not hiding his curiosity.

You managed to look elsewhere, than at Aro. The man on the throne to your left seemed unusually agitated. He fixed his gaze on you, as if his life depended on it, yet you did not feel uncomfortable. You were surprised to discover that an invisible force was also drawing you towards him. You almost took a step forward. You tried to remember the man from a few minutes ago. He looked as if he had died in that chair a few centuries ago. And now he seemed genuinely moved.

“Brother” the man spoke to Aro, as he got up from his throne. Indeed, there seemed to be an urgency to the matter, for Aro turned around in surprise. You had the impression that the man from the throne had not risen from it for a long time.

“You knew about this, and you brought her anyway?” you heard Edward's quiet whisper, directed at Alice.

Alice looked at her brother, then at you and finally at a curious Aro.

"It would have happened anyway. Better sooner than later" Alice murmured mysteriously. You still didn't know what it was even about. The third man, the one on your right, did not share his brothers' patience.

"Aro, let's hurry this up, Heidi will be here soon, and we don't want to frighten our guests" he said ominously, grinning like a madman. You were far from solving this riddle, but as soon as you looked at him, you felt the same attraction and enigmatic pulling as towards the other two.

Aro took his brother's hand in his own and you could see that his eyes would have lit up with happiness if they could.

“Ah, my dear Marcus! What an exceptional news!” intoned Aro cheerfully, heading towards you. He was slow in his movements, exactly so that you would not be frightened by him. All his movements were framed by an incredible grace.

“My dear, if I may, what is your name?” he asked, coming closer to you. You were unable to take your eyes off him. It was exactly, as if he had hypnotised you, only the feeling was more addictive. You didn't have to have a gift or to be a vampire to know that. For a split second, you ran out of breath and just stared into his red irises.

“My name is [Y/N]” you said, with your voice trembling, as your throat tightened hard under the intense emotions. You couldn't believe it was really happening. Maybe it was just a dream? Maybe these three beautiful men are just a figment of your imagination? You didn't even want to think about the fact that it might not be true.

Aro smiled encouragingly, while looking at you with all the attention that he’d possibly give you. You felt like nothing more was more important than you to him at that exact moment.

"It is an incredible pleasure to meet you, [Y/N]. I am Aro, but you already know that.”

The smile never left his face and during this brief exchange of words, neither of you took your eyes off the other. You felt that the atmosphere in the room had changed. Aro extended his alabaster hand in an inviting gesture.

“May I, my dear?” he asked you politely.

You gulped. Of course, you wanted to show him that you didn't want to give away their secret. You wanted to show him the strange bond you felt towards him and his brothers. However, there were things you didn't want him to see. You felt deep down inside that this attraction had an explanation and you didn't want him to see... Not that. You’d felt exposed and extremely embarrassed. There was also another issue. His hand. You'd hugged Bella twice since it happened and just now you were holding Alice's hand. You didn't know if, when you touched him, you'd start screaming or crying because you were so afraid of someone else's touch.

Yet, his hand looked so inviting, almost familiar, as if you'd already had the chance to touch it before. Aro himself showed no impatience. He waited, still gazing into your blue irises with his crimson eyes. You extended your hand towards him, at first cautiously, and then with a little more confidence. You took a deep breath, before your fingers made contact. When it happened, you felt as if you had come home after many years of wandering. He closed your hand in his, just as he had done with Edward's. His skin was cold, but he handled you extremely gently. You stared into his eyes as he looked at your thoughts and memories of your whole life. You knew instantly when he was done because he smiled sadly at you. He squeezed your hand gently in his.

"Never again, my love. Never again," he assured passionately, and then he leaned down to place a kiss on your hand. It was so light and as gentle as a breeze on a summer day. You couldn't help but smile.

Aro clapped his hands. He was clearly pleased with what had just happened between you.

"Aro, will you explain to me what's going on? I'm sick of waiting," said the nervous brother, who was the only one with blond hair. Aro smiled widely and turned towards him.

"Ah, Caius, you'll never guess. Finally, after so many years, our mate has honoured us with her presence" he said overjoyed and Caius frowned in awe. You were already able to tell that this did not happen often. Marcus, on the other hand, was sitting on his throne, smiling, still looking in your direction. You didn't miss the glances of the other vampires either. Was it some sort of celebration when Marcus was smiling?

“What does that mean?” it was Bella who snapped that question. Aro immediately appeared by her side. He gently stroked her hair, pulling an unruly strand behind her ear. You felt the sting of jealousy, when he touched her face. You should be the one asking that question and not her.

“Ah, and dear Isabella. What to do with you,” he wondered aloud, as if asking others for advice. “As I have far more important matters to deal with....” he began, looking directly at you. “I’d love to see if you’re an exception to my gift as well,” he whispered to Bella, extending his hand towards her. She didn't have much choice, did she? She took his hand, a little hesitantly, but after a short while Aro moved away.

“Interesting” he muttered. “I see nothing.”

“You already know what you’ll do with her, Aro” said Marcus, his eyes never leaving your person. “Just do it, as we want to know our little angel a bit more.”

You looked at Bella for a moment. She was terrified, not only with her own case, but also with yours. You have already guessed that you are not going anywhere. They would never let you out of their hands. Aro knew perfectly well that you didn't even have anything to go back to. Of course, you had plenty of questions, but you were sure it wasn't about your case now. Just about Bella's situation and what the Cullens had done, or rather what they hadn't done. However, you guessed it, Bella was afraid you wouldn't get out of here alive, and at the same time, you were worried about the exact same thing but about her.

Aro was smiling continuously.

“I have an idea” he said, after a long while. He approached Alice this time. “Would you be so kind, dear, and show me if you saw Bella's transformation in your vision?”

You were smart enough to know that it wasn’t a request. Alice undid her glove and boldly gave Aro her hand. He was absent for a moment and then smiled again. You were impressed by the aura he spread around himself. When he smiled, you felt like smiling too. You still had the impression that it was only a dream, and simultaneously you were sure that it was really happening. Aro's touch was definitely real, you couldn’t forget his cool hands embracing your own.

“Ah, lovely. I know everything now,” he declared. You and Bella probably looked similarly confused, but you weren't the least bit concerned and she was as pale as a sheet.

Aro turned directly to Edward.

“As I have seen Isabella's transformation in Alice's vision, I can let you go with peace of mind, my dear young friends. I trust that a date will be set sooner, rather than later and that I will be able to see for myself, what your mate will be capable of, Edward. As for you, Isabella, you are promising immortal material and I hope your potential will not go to waste," he said, this time speaking directly to Bella.

She was still brave enough to look him in the eye.

“And what with [Y/N]? You never mentioned what will happen to her” she noticed, looking in your direction. You smiled gently to her.

“I’m staying here, Bella” you said calmly, trying to reassure her with your tone of voice that all shall be all right.

You saw pure admiration and joyousness on Aro’s face as you said that.

“Isn’t she remarkable, brothers?” he asked Marcus and Caius, who looked as if they had just received the most beautiful Christmas present.

Bella seemed to be thoroughly outrageous.

“You can’t be serious [Y/N]! You cannot stay here, please, come back with us. You cannot be here while you’re pregnant” she cried, holding your hand and looking at you with disbelief.

What she said made you very uncomfortable and extremely upset.

"Bella, I have nothing to go back to. My parents are dead. You knew that if Alice told me everything, it would have to be resolved somehow," you stated matter-of-factly, squeezing her hand in yours. "I can't go back there, Bells." Your throat tightened with despair as memories of recent events flooded inside your mind. You tried to hold back tears.

"I am a shadow of my former self. I'm afraid to leave the house alone to go shopping or to work. This paranoia is overwhelming me, Bella. I keep turning behind me to see if anyone is following me on the street. I cry at night, knowing that it doesn't change anything. And then there's this unfortunate baby," you sighed helplessly, trying not to burst with tears. "Even if I keep it, I don't want it to have a mother who's afraid to leave the house. I can't live like this, we both know that" you whispered, squeezing her hands in yours again.

“But you cannot possibly be mated with all three of them” Bella whispered with despair in her eyes. You only smiled, sensing that this sentence got on Kings’ nerves, especially Caius’s.

“I think it’s predestined, Bella. Just as you are destined to be with Edward, I do belong here, with my mates” you said cautiously, glancing at Aro and looking for approval in his eyes. He was only looking at you with delight, as he said nothing.

You saw that Bella had hard time processing such information, whilst Edward and Alice said nothing at all. You knew that Alice knew prior about this, and Edward could see the vision in her thoughts. You pulled Bella into a comfortable hug.

“Hey, sister, we don’t see each other the very last time. We’ll meet again. Probably in a different…condition but still.”

Bella looked devastated.

“You promise me that?” she asked warily, her tone full of hope. You smiled at her.

“Of course I do.” You kissed her cheek and caressed her long, brown hair. “We can call each other, you know. It’s not like I’m moving to the Moon,” you joked, to release the tension a bit. To your astonishment, everybody in the room laughed at that. It made you blush, just a little tiny bit.

After another farewell, in which this time you also included Alice and Edward (barely, because you were still mad at him) and an official farewell from Aro, who told them to give his friend kind regards from him, the guests left the chamber.

They left, and Aro was immediately by your side. He gently stroked your long blonde hair, but didn't touch a single piece of a skin. After the display of your memories, he probably knew very well that you did not wish any touch for the time being.

You still couldn't free yourself from under his spell and if you were to be honest, you didn't want to at all. Aro offered you his arm.

"I believe, we have much to discuss, my love."

You took his arm gratefully.

"I have a ton of questions," you admitted as you walked out of the chamber with Marcus and Caius slowly following you. You didn't need to look back, the strange bonds that drew you together informed you of their presence in a yet unknown way.

Aro, as usual, smiled magnificently.

"My dear, one thing at a time," he said in a gentle tone, as he patted your forearm with tenderness. When you entered the study with the round table, Aro immediately pushed back a chair for you.

"No one is to disturb us" you heard Caius' sharp tone as he closed the door behind you. You tried to feel comfortable and at ease. After all, this was your home from now on.

Part 2 | Part 3

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egcdeath · 4 years ago

Text

first impressions

pairing: soft!ransom drysdale x reader

summary: [request] “hmm prompts... Ransom introducing you (a total opposite of him) to his family for the first time, or a Thrombey wedding! if you feel like it” i like where your brain is at anon! but why not a little bit of both? ;)

word count: 3.7k

warnings: pretty fluffy, some angst, toxic family dynamics

author’s note: this has been super lightly edited so pls forgive any mistakes <3 click here if you’d like to be added to my taglist & all reblogs are super appreciated!

You felt slightly out of place driving through the neighborhood of your youth in the passenger seat of Ransom’s beloved Beamer. Thinking of how your parents would react to your boyfriend, let alone his lifestyle of excess, made your heart rate increase, and you shuffled a bit in your seat unconsciously as a result of your nerves. As if he were reading your thoughts, Ransom set a steady hand on your knee and gave it a tiny reassuring squeeze before parking in front of the curb ahead of your home.

Nervously exiting the vehicle, you watched wordlessly as Ransom grabbed your overnight bags from the trunk, and hauled them over his shoulders. Still saying nothing, you reached out and grabbed Ransom’s hand, constricting his circulation as you strolled up to your door, and rang your own doorbell.

When your mother whipped open the door and offered you an excited grin, you finally were able to let out the breath that you weren’t even aware you were holding.

“Goose!” your mother cheered, squeezing the life out of you while you snuck a glance at Ransom who seemed rather amused by the childhood pet name. “And who’s this?” she asked, pulling away from you and looking him up and down.

“I’m Ransom, your daughter’s boyfriend,” he announced with confidence, offering your mom friendly smile, before glancing back over at you and raising his brows the slightest bit.

“Finally putting a face to the name, then. I’ve heard all about you from this one. Come on in,” she gestured for the two of you to enter. “Y/N can show you to her room, and dinner will be ready in about a half hour,” with that, your mother was off, and you were once again alone with Ransom.

You showed him up to your room, where he set down the bags and flopped down onto your bright pink duvet.

“Goose, huh?” he questioned, rolling on the hyperfeminine twin mattress.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, before sitting down next to the headboard of the bed.

“Do you think she liked me?” Ransom asked, seemingly out of nowhere. “Did you tell her good things about me?”

“Since when do you care about what other people think of you?” you giggled a bit, and planted your fingers in Ransom’s hair.

“I care because…” he thought for a moment, calculating just how honest he wanted to be. “I care because this is the longest relationship I’ve been in, and I want my future parents-in-law to like me.”

“We’ve been together for like, a year, Ran. But I applaud your commitment to me,” you massaged his scalp as you spoke, and ignored the butterflies floating throughout your torso at his mention of marriage.

“Well? Do you think she likes me?” he asked once again.

“Mmm, I like when you care about things,” you pressed a little peck to his forehead, and hovered a bit over his face. “She said like, 20 words to you, max. But after dinner I’m sure they’ll like you. At least I hope they will.”

Ransom playfully swatted at you. “How comforting. Wait, stay right there,” he reached up and held the hand that was massaging his scalp in place.

——

By the time dinner came around, you seemed to have switched emotions with your partner, as you were feeling much more relaxed, and Ransom on the other hand, was not.

He kept a hand on your knee under the table in what seemed like a grounding technique, squeezing every now and then while your father plated your meals.

“So, how did you two meet?” your father questioned, sitting down beside your mom.

“We met while we were volunteering at the Humane Society together,” you gushed, glancing over at your partner who was nervously sipping his water, then back at your parents. “He always seemed so pissed in the beginning. I mean, the amount of times I saw him growling obscenities while tugging on harnesses, or playing the most unenthusiastic games of fetch I’d ever seen in my life is astounding,” you laughed softly, and looked over at Ransom once again as if you were cueing him to speak.

“Yeah, I really didn’t like it there at first. Not really a dog guy, but my grandad said it was community service or no allowance, and I was not interested in the latter,” he chuckled awkwardly and received confused expressions from your parents, which granted you an SOS squeeze on the knee.

“Um, anyway, one day we were closing, and I went into the last cat suite, and there grumpy old Ransom was, cuddling with Garfield, you know, the old cat with the three legs, and it was literally the cutest thing I’d ever seen. Especially ‘cause Garfield is so hard to please,'' you paused to take a bite of the food in front of you. “We started talking more after that, then he asked me out, and of course I said yes. I guess the rest is history.”

“Aw, Goose, that’s so cute!” your mom cooed, but the moment didn’t last too long.

“What do you do for work, Ransom?” Your dad asked, tilting his beer at the man.

“I’m currently in between jobs. But, uh, I’ve been doing a lot of volunteer work.”

Your father nodded wordlessly and paused for a second. “Volunteering get you a Beamer?”

“Dad!” You interrupted in a yelp, “please.” You frowned as you looked between the men.

“Y/N, it’s fine. It’s a good question, but I got it as a gift a few years back. And, you know, my family’s comfortable.”

Before your father could respond, your mom popped in to save the conversation. “No money talk at the table, please. Tell me more about your relationship,” she gave both of you a sympathetic look.

——

After that, dinner went on without much of a hitch, and you agreed upon doing the dishes with your mother while your father and boyfriend prepared a little fire outside.

“He seems sweet,” she commented after a long period of silence.

“I’m glad you think so. He was really worried about you not liking him, and honestly, I was too,” you rinsed the last glass before setting it in your dishwasher.

“I just want you to be careful, okay? When you have that much money, people do strange things, or say things they don’t mean and expect you to just take it. He seems like a good boy, but just don’t let your guard completely down. The last breakup you went through-“

“Stop, I get it,” you sighed softly.

“This doesn’t mean I don’t like him. I just don’t want to see you that hurt again,” she gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Let’s go stop your dad from catching a murder charge,” she beckoned you to follow her out to the backyard, where your boyfriend and dad were… laughing together? If you weren’t so relieved, it’d almost be off-putting.

The rest of the night went alarmingly well, Ransom finding a way to bond with both of your parents after an awkward first half of the evening. As the two of you crawled into your tiny bed and spooned while drifting off to sleep, Ransom slurred a tired ‘I think they liked me,’ into your ear.

From that point on, Ransom’s position within your family only became better. For the first time, he was welcomed into a familial environment that wasn’t more toxic than a Chernobyl cooling tower, and Ransom was loving it. After suggesting to spend that year’s Thanksgiving at your parents’ home, spending the holidays with the L/N family became a frequent occurrence for the two of you.

Though you occasionally wondered why you were four years into a relationship with the man, and still hadn’t met his family, which to your understanding, was rather large, you had better things to concern yourself with. You understood and respected that Ransom’s relationship with his own family wasn't the best, from the little that he shared with you, but occasionally curiosity often got the best of you.

Yet, things seemed to shift after your engagement. In the midst of dress fittings and cake tastings, Ransom had decided that it was finally time for you to meet the rest of the Thrombey clan, and that there was no better time than Harlan’s book release party, which was being celebrated out in California, at the Thrombey Vineyard.

In your years of relationship, you’d become no stranger to luxury, and the finer things in life, but arriving at the Vineyard put you in awe at just how affluent these people were. Perhaps that’s what happens when you’re one of the great writers of your time, and your offspring go off to become equally “self-made” successes.

You were a bit tired from the three hour difference between Boston and Sonoma Valley, and as soon as you hopped out of the car at the vineyard, you could only think of getting to your room, out of your baggy travel clothes, and to sleep as soon as possible.

Trailing behind Ransom, you looked around at the vast expanse of crop-filled land around you in astonishment while you walked up the cement path to the mansion, not really noticing the petite woman with curled blonde hair, and an oversized straw hat approaching you.

“Oh gosh, you must be Y/N!” she said gleefully. “I’m Joni. I’ve seen you all over Ranny’s Insta,” she paused and looked you up and down. “Well, you do look a little different there,” she chuckled.

“That’s great, Joni. Maybe you can Tweet about how exhilarating and life changing this experience has been for you to all your little pyramid scheme friends.”

“You’re always so rude, Hugh,” she sneered.

“I forgot about your chronic victimhood. Goodbye, Joan,” he rolled his eyes, and practically tugged you inside the massive building in front of you, before dragging you up the stairs. You were honestly in a little bit of shock at seeing how nasty Ransom got from just a small interaction.

You set your Louis Vuitton Keepal, and aluminum suitcase down on the granite floor of the bedroom, before flopping down, and spreading your limbs out on the massive memory foam bed that sat in the center of the room, “What was that, Ran?” you questioned as he sprawled out next to you.

“The reason why I didn’t want you to meet them. They’re like sharks, looking for anything that even resembles blood in the water,” he threw an arm around you and yawned. “We can talk about this in the morning, though. Right now, I think that both of us need a shower.”

“Speak for yourself, you stink bug.”

“But what if I get lonely in there?”

“Fine,” you huffed, moving his arm off of you, and heading off to the en-suite.

That night, as you stared at the blank wall in a vain attempt to quiet your mind enough to fall asleep, you questioned if coming to meet Ransom’s family was more of a mistake than you initially anticipated.

The next morning felt a bit frantic. You and Ransom woke up a few hours before everyone else, as they’d been in California for a few days now and had adjusted to the time difference, while you two had not. An in-house chef made you two a gourmet buffet of a meal while housekeepers laid out your clothes back in your room, and you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of the sudden interferences in your life. Though it was nice to not have to do all of the work, you weren’t sure how you felt about other people doing it for you.

The majority of your day felt similar to that morning. You quickly realized that Ransom’s fortune was just a small portion of the Thrombey estate, and that his family were essentially a bunch of monsters with money. Throughout the day of horse riding, wine tasting, and wine painting workshops, you couldn’t help but notice how they turned their noses up at you, treating you, and the staff working at the vineyard, like some sort of outsider.

Your alienation only became more apparent during Harlan’s celebratory dinner, when insults and sneers were tossed at both you and Ransom for being together.

“Are you trying to get revenge on us, or something?” Richard asked at one point, gesturing to you, and catching you completely off guard,

“Why would you say something like that?” Ransom asked, trying not to let his offence show as his jaw clenched.

“It’s just not like you to want to settle down, especially with someone like… her,” he spoke about you like you weren’t sitting right there.

“No, I agree,” Walt added. “For once in our lives I agree with you,” he laughed aloud, and a few other folks at the table laughed with him. “Can you believe that after all these years, we’re bonding over Ransom’s little girlfriend?”

You weren’t even sure how to react, so you laughed awkwardly along with them, and stared blankly at the vast expanse of grape trees behind the row of Thrombey and their friends. What you would give to sprint out into that, and never come back.

Ransom looked to you in your obvious discomfort, and grabbed your knee, offering it a little reassuring squeeze before he interrupted them.

“You know what? All of you dickheads can eat shit. Y/N is really the only person who matters to me at this point, and you pricks need to respect that. Hell, you need to respect her.”

“Look at little Ranny, getting all soft,” Walt chided.

He ignored the comment and continued on, “And If I don’t start hearing apologies soon, every single one of your wedding invites have a one way ticket to the shredder.”

A silence fell over the table. You were a bit surprised too, since your invites had already gone out, and Harlan was the only Thrombey to receive one.

“...You’re getting married?” Meg asked, breaking the silence. “Why wouldn’t you tell us?”

“Why do you think?” you muttered, pushing around a few things on your plate before standing up, and pushing your chair away. “Excuse me.”

You knew that by leaving, you were only opening yourself up for more criticism, but you genuinely weren’t sure that you’d be able to take one more second of hostility. You pushed your chair back in, before heading off the patio, into the gigantic home, and up to the room that you’d claimed.

You rolled on top of the bed, and screamed into a feather filled pillow. It wasn’t too long after when tears stung your eyes as you came to the conclusion that these monsters were just a few months away from becoming your in-laws.

You thought you’d heard the most of it after the table, yet a prompt knocking at your door proved otherwise. Letting herself in, you turned to face Ransom’s mother herself, and you just knew that you were in for it.

“Listen, you whore,” Linda began in a sharp, yet quiet tone, “I don’t know what you’re trying to do with my son. Isolate him from us. Try to ‘change him’ like I know you think you’re doing. But just know that at the end of the day, he’ll always pick us. You’ll always be the second choice, especially when Ransom realizes that you barely have a dime to your name, and his bank account starts to runs dry,” she approached you, and pointed an accusatory finger towards you. “You’ll never be anything but a disgusting, sloppy little gold digger. You may be his toy of the week, but at the end of the day, you’re just an afterthought. I suggest that you get out of his life sooner than later. I’m sure Ransom wouldn’t mind, considering we already have your replacement with one foot in the door,” she gestured over to the window facing the back patio, where Ransom was chatting with a brunette woman that appeared to be quite a few years younger than himself.

“You’re cute, Y/N. Really! It’s cute that you’re thinking right now that he would never leave you, cheat on you with some new, younger, hotter piece of ass. Just know that you don’t know Ransom as well as you really think you do. I can promise you, it’ll be much easier to break off an engagement than it’ll be to get a divorce. Especially with that prenup he’s considering dropping on your desk any day.” she tutted as if she cared. “Well, sweetheart, it was great meeting you. I’m glad that these were our first and last words together,” she gave your back a pat before leaving the room, and you looked out the window in shock.

Shaking as you dig into the pocket of your sundress, you sent Ransom a simple ‘help’ message, before setting your phone aside and trying to pack your belongings in as quick of a manner as possible.

When Ransom opened the door, a steady stream of tears and mascara was staining your face, while you urgently threw things into your suitcase.

“Goose, what happened?” he gasped, hurrying over to your kneeling form, and setting a hand on your shoulder.

“Why,” you sniffled. “Why would you let her come up here and say all that shit to me!” you croaked, swatting his hand away from you.

“What?” he watched as you pressed down on the overfilled suitcase and frantically attempted to zip it, to no avail. “Linda said she was gonna come apologize?”

“Telling me that I’ll never be enough for you is just a perfect apology,” you muttered, “I need to go home.”

“God,” he grumbled to himself, “This is exactly why I waited so long for them to meet you. Okay, we can go home then. I’ll buy us tickets right now.”

“This is on you too, Ransom. You didn’t tell them about us, like, at all. You had so much time! You couldn’t give Linda a call and say ‘hey I’ve been seeing this girl’ or even tell Harlan to deliver the message for you?” you hiccuped, but continued. “All of this could’ve been avoided if they had four years to adjust to our relationship. Maybe then they wouldn’t call me a whore and a gold digger every other sentence.”

“I was just trying to protect you from them,” he frowned.

You finally managed to zip up the suitcase, and stood up along with it, “well, you clearly did a great job of that.”

You dusted off the skirt of your dress, and grabbed your phone. “I’ll let you know when our car gets here,” you huffed before walking into the en-suite and closing the door behind you, just to have a moment for yourself (and make yourself look a bit more put together before you leave.)

A tense car ride, and awkward flight later, you marched straight into the guest bedroom, and cocooned yourself under a copious amount of blankets. You felt like you stayed there for years, only getting out of bed to shower and use the restroom, and living off of the crustless sandwiches and jarred spaghetti your fiancé brought to your door.

You slept most of the time, and in the moments you weren’t sleeping, you were dwelling on every vicious word thrown at you at the vineyard. Every day, you listened to Ransom apologize through the door, yet every day, you questioned if going through with the wedding was truly the wisest idea.

A few days into your stay in the guest bedroom, you finally allowed Ransom to stay in the room for more than just dropping off food. He sat down next to you in bed, and cupped your cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb softly back and forth against the skin.

“I don’t know how I can make things right for you,” he said softly. “I really did set you up, and I didn’t even mean to. I should’ve made better decisions, but I can’t change four years ago. But I can keep those heinous people away from you. They’ll never have the chance to do, or say anything like that to you again, okay?” his thumb caught on a tear, which he promptly wiped away. “Just… please don’t leave me. The bed feels too empty without you, and it’s just been a few days. I can’t imagine feeling that emptiness for the rest of my life.”

You whimpered and sat up, abruptly embracing the broad man. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let your idiot family make me question the validity of our relationship,” you muttered into his shirt.

“I promise you you’ll never have to worry about them again. They had their opportunity to make things right, and they missed it.”

-----

Things were more or less smooth sailing after that fiasco. You found your perfect venue, decided on your ideal Honeymoon spot, and finished your seating arrangements with time to spare, and the next thing you knew your wedding day was around the corner.

It all seemed to happen so fast, one second you were being walked down the aisle, the next, exchanging vows and rings as aisles of your friends and family members cheered for you, Y/N Drysdale.

Your reception also seemed to slip right through your fingers, your first dance, toasts and cake cutting finding itself over almost as soon as it started. You were grateful that you hired a wedding videographer, as the day was so overwhelming, you weren’t quite sure how much of it you’d remember.

As you drove off to the airport, Ransom set his hand upon your knee one more time. A warm, fuzzy feeling formed in your chest at the all too familiar gesture. You turned your head from the window to your husband, who was grinning back at you, and couldn’t help but to think of how perfect your wedding ended up, though it felt like it sped by quickly. More than anything, you were grateful that you didn’t give up on Ransom despite his interesting family.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out fanfic #ransom drysdale x you #chris evans x reader

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slickshoesareyoucrazy · 2 years ago

Text

Independent and Easy

PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG THIS

The main reason I'm even here is to work through the things causing me anxiety. I'm not going to try very hard to make things brief. Maybe I'll post some one liners or one paragraph things occasionally, but most of what shows up here is going to be long text. If I can figure out how to reblog from others here, I might do that too, as long as I'm not found by anyone I don't want to find me. So here it goes.

When she was my mom and wasn’t anyone else’s mom or grandmother, she made it very clear to me that to be the most pleasing, to get the most love, to get what I needed, I had to be easy. I had to not need or want much of anything, and definitely not demand it; attention, money, time, stuff, emotional labor, practical help. I had to not cause her any trouble, which meant I had to not cause anyone who would go to her about me any trouble either (teachers at school, doctors, other family members, anyone else she perceived in charge of me). I had to happily accept any responsibility and expectations placed on me, no matter how extreme or irrational they might be. No complaining. No crying. No getting angry or resentful. If any of that flared up, remind yourself (so she doesn’t have to) that you’re selfish and you don’t matter as much as other people/she does, or that you don’t matter at all. Remind yourself (so she doesn’t have to) that you’re lucky you have a roof over your head and food to eat and you aren’t getting beaten or thrown in the closet/basement or forced to sit on the front step and read the Bible out loud with your stutter and dyslexia until your parent was satisfied with your shame and humiliation, or kicked out of the house (and you knew kids who suffered some, most, or all of that). Be easy, Jennifer, and be glad and grateful you don’t have it worse (the implied and unspoken message there was always...I could always make it worse).

My mom when she was working was late for every appointment she made with me when I became an adult. ‘Let’s have lunch, Jennifer,’ and she’d leave me sitting at a restaurant table alone for up to my entire lunch hour, waiting for her, without calling or even answering her phone. If I brought up that she was late (with what I thought was obvious concern for her safety and wellbeing), she always told me she was very important and needed at work. I should understand that. I learned to never expect anything from her but to always fulfill her shifting and sometimes conflicting expectations of me. To be easy.

I learned to handle shit myself and if anything bothered me, including panic attacks, I learned to keep it to myself. To be easy. I was good at shit. To be easy. I was good. To be easy.

And I used to write a lot of shit shit off as internalized misogyny (which she does have a lot of) because of the obvious preferential treatment she afforded my brother and my son. And ‘he’s the baby’ for my brother and ‘he’s the grandchild’ for my son, too. But that’s not it, really. It’s more personal to me. Because now, my mom devotes entire days of her time to my aunt’s daughter. She’s younger than me, but she’s the oldest of her siblings, just like me; she’s a woman, not a boy or a man, just like me. My mom can’t stop talking about how cute my cousin’s kids are; she babysits joyfully...is honored to be asked...teaches the little girl how to make brownies from boxed mix...shares all kinds of photos of them whether I want to look at them or not. This woman isn’t my mom’s daughter OR grandchild. It hurts me that she makes them a priority and not me.

#please do not reblog this

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