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espresseo-cafe · 9 months ago

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a kiss & a dress shirt | johnny | oneshot

genre: syrup, fluff, valentine’s day special

pairing: johnny x fem!reader

bean count: 4.4k+

a/n: not me crying in singleness while writing this 🥹this fluffy coffee was meant to be posted a day ago but i kept rewriting because i wasn’t satisfied and now it’s longer than i expected lmao 👀 anyway enjoy my very late valentine’s day gift for you my beans ☕️💚

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people have been talking about the popular trio in your year. they even got other students from different universities seeing them outside the gates after classes.

among the three of them were the handsome and musically talented lee taeyong, the smiling sunshine and varsity football player nakamoto yuta, and the ever sexy, volleyball loving sweetheart photographer johnny suh.

they were always the talk of the campus since freshmen year and their presence emitted a strong pull that you only knew how celebrities did. were they that attractive? yes. although the trio were indeed popular, most of them were gushing on the so-called “twins”: taeyong and yuta, with the latter being a transferee from osaka, japan.

the third one, however, didn’t have everyone’s eyes on him as much as taeyong and yuta. he was still talked about though, and they’d talk about johnny suh being the sexy one out of the three and only loved- and i quote: only talked about his bread-like abs during sport events.

it was a biased statement and agreed consensus that everyone had to which you beg to differ. there was so much more to him behind than his muscular physique, you guessed.

as the recent saying goes: “in every trio, there is…”and in this particular trio in your year, johnny suh, who hails from chicago, was the one to have got your attention the most. he was your type, so much that he was the only one you noticed behind the sparkles that shone around the other two.

johnny simply stood out. and quite literally. he was mysterious like a cat, but aggressive like a tiger in the court.

you weren’t one to be so smittened with just anyone. your heart has never been swayed this much as far as you could remember. because you- out of your friend group at least- was hard to please and very choosy.

mina at the moment asked how you managed to have a crush on johnny. and you smiled so stupidly recalling how he stood in front of you and used his hand to block a powerful spike that nearly hit your face.

you remembered the gush of wind that swept in front and his perfume that was oddly refreshing despite it being mixed with sweat. looking up, there was one feature of his you definitely liked. and you simply answered, “he.. saved me from a spike.”

and by the time you looked up at her while your fork spun around the pasta, never have you ever seen mina with an expression that was close to a meme.

“that’s it?” she put down her spoon. “you fell in love because of that?”

you rolled your eyes, “i’m not in love with him, it’s called a crush. they’re different.”

she giggled softly, “well it’s leaning towards that, y/n. i’m glad you finally opened up your heart this time.”

lisa laughed at that comment, “clearly at someone real and not a fictional character. johnny’s in my photography major. he’s usually alone but he got people staring at him more than the actual professor in every lecture.”

“and you’re telling me this because?” you chewed on your food but still maintaining eye contact with her.

“because despite being the “sexy one”, i heard he’s single and is planning to ask someone out in our year for valentine’s.” lisa shrugged and snorted at how you choked on your meal hearing that.

mina gave you a glass of water and lightly slapped lisa’s shoulder, “you good? i mean, y/n, this is your chance to ask him out too.” making you cough on your drink. your best friends turning to each other and giving each other a high-five.

“they’re probably just baseless rumours, girls.” you wiped your mouth, trying to ignore whatever they were saying.

though at the back of your mind, going on a date with johnny suh was a wishful thinking. you guys were friends to begin with, acquaintances rather, through lisa and taeyong’s relationship.

the faint cheers and giggles from your table had johnny’s group of friends looking. taeyong smiled at his girlfriend lisa, who was obviously aware with the fact she might’ve told you about how johnny’s current relationship status was.

yuta nudged the sides of taeyong’s waist, “you think johnny will ask any of lisa’s friends? we could go on a triple date this year.”

taeyong sipped from his juice box, his doe eyes never leaving her side profile. “you bet, johnny’s already decided on who to take for valentine’s.”

yuta crossed his arms, his black nail polish evident on his fingers. he grinned while he stared at a certain someone. “he better not take mina, i got dibs on her.”

“who says i’m taking mina?” the guys immediately turned around to see johnny behind them. johnny took a peek the girls they just conversed about. “i’ll be asking y/n out for valentine’s.”

the two snickered at him, “about time. but you say it as if it’s your first valentine date ever.”

“please, i was asked more than you two combined but i expected that they always want one thing. so i declined.” johnny pointed out blankly and the guys knew already.

“shoot, a one night stand after the date?” yuta licked his lips before breaking out in a laughter. “well someone’s choosy. you are built better than us so i get what the girls want.”

johnny just smirked at the ridiculous claim he has heard quite a number of times. for once, he just wanted to have a normal date. the previous dates he went on before weren’t what he wanted or even looking for.

taeyong put his bag on the bench while they all sat around the table. “so what made you decide on taking y/n this year?”

johnny’s reddening ears caught the guys beside him off guard. that alone already confessed so many things. “i like her.. like a lot. i think it was since the beginning of the semester.”

taeyong’s smile faded when he felt that johnny was serious. and he knew whenever his best friend johnny is that serious about something, he’d do anything to make his point clear.

yuta, on the other hand, was just enjoying what he sees and decided to tease the boy a little more though he was quite scary. “so that’s why you did that move? when you saved her from the spike a while back?”

johnny coughed on his lunch, he was busted. never had he experienced anyone putting him on the hot seat before because that was his job in the first place.

the boys decided to tease him further more the whole lunch by saying you were probably asked by other guys already because today was the 13th. johnny’s eyes widened realising he’s lost track of time.

you should still be available, right?

his eyes searched for you, hoping you were still around and definitely still have the 14th vacant for him. he felt his heart beating out of his chest and didn’t stop its speed when he spotted you laughing with lisa and mina.

he didn’t care what other people would think. he knew the effect he had on almost everyone by being the tall, sexy, young man he was referred to.

but they wouldn’t know the effect you had on him at all.

they wouldn’t know how much he liked you. til today.

so he stood up, putting his nervousness behind him and walked up to where you were. “y/n.” you looked up to the sweet voice that called your name, so mesmerised with the fact that your crush is literally in front of you.

whispers and chatters of students around the cafeteria made you nervous. you knew johnny though you thought you were dreaming, you couldn’t stop thinking about one thing: ‘why me?’

johnny’s hand reached into his pocket and took out four tickets. those you recognised as movie and amusement park tickets respectively. “i don’t normally do this so i’m just as nervous as you are..” he scratched the back of his head, ears as red as his cheeks. “y/f/n, will you be my valentine this year?”

mina and lisa squealed in a happy panic while shaking each other’s shoulders, with lisa taking a photo to commerate a historical moment. “this is it!”

your ears heated up and your eyes never left his face. johnny too, couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. you were beautiful in a way he couldn’t explain. sure, you weren’t exactly his type before but now he was certain you ticked all of his boxes.

blinking a bit, your mouth couldn’t stop quivering into a smile. you were so lucky today.

johnny didn’t like the suspension that he was almost breaking into a sweat. were you going to say yes-

“yes.”

he gasped, and he bit his lip. “y-yes?”

“mhm.”

johnny curled his fists and punched one into the air. “oh my g- yes!” hearing his friends behind him howling and cheering, he sighed a puff of relief. then he regained his composure and said rather confidently, “thank you. i’ll pick you up tomorrow at 10am?”

“the movie’s at 9, johnny.” you shook the tickets before standing up to go to your next lecture. “so i’ll see you earlier then.”

he watched your figure leave the cafeteria with your friends, giving him a small wave and a smile. and he was dazzled. his crush on you was getting somewhere.

other girls ran up to him and blocked his way with questionable faces and tried to hand in their letters and chocolate to him.

“johnny, why did you ask y/n? i’m better!”

“she’s a nobody!”

“you could’ve asked me instead!”

“so unfair!”

“ugh do i have to wait next year again?”

taeyong could see the discomfort in johnny’s face but still found it funny how he never broke eye contact at you.

“boy’s smittened.”

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lost in thought, you weren’t sure how long you were standing in front of your full length mirror so early in the morning. sighing, you should’ve listened to lisa last night to wake up early.

and now she’s nagging at you with a toothbrush in her mouth. “what did i tell you? we’re all dressed up but you.”

you rubbed your eyes to remove the sand that built up overnight. “yeah but my clothes got dirtied by mina and her coffee.”

mina gasped as she curled her hair, pointing her curler at you. “in my defense, who puts their outfit on the dining table?”

raising your hands, you admitted defeat. “me, okay? i woke up late. so save me a lecture.”

the girls laughed, they knew you were nervous as heck for your first ever valentine’s date. it was a first that johnny himself asked someone out in public even though he was a very private person. but they also knew how you and johnny suh were a good match. it was undeniable.

so lisa took something out from a paper bag and gave it to you, saying to save it for tonight.

taking a peek at the item, you screamed in disgust and threw it back to her. “lisa!”

“what?” she laughed, her pearly whites and smile was so contagious that it made mina laugh as well. “might as well get on with it!”

you slammed the table with your hands, “ha? i’m not that vulgar! i’m as innocent as an angel!”

mina snorted like a pig would do and disagreed with you. “says someone who was staring at his shirtless volleyball pictures on instagram last night.”

your cheeks heated up so much that it crawled straight to your ears. “i- i’ll go get ready.” walking away to your bedroom to look for something else to wear. good thing you had a back up outfit.

“yuta texted, said that they’d pick us up in thirty!” mina turned her screen off after reading the notification.

“shut up mina!” your voice behind the door made her shake her head in satisfaction.

“the pressure’s real now, isn’t it, y/n?”

“mina said they’re almost ready.” yuta put his phone in the pocket of his jacket. then seeing johnny checking himself out on the rearview mirror as he drove to your shared apartment with the girls. “dude, chill, you look great.”

johnny smirked before parking briefly. as he and the guys went out of the car, you three came into sight all dressed up. and he swore he actually took a step back when his eyes set on you.

you sported a light lilac puff sleeved dress that had a knot around your waist. the ruffled hem of the dress reach an inch & a half above your knees. and you paired the whole outfit with white sneakers and a light yellow headband.

johnny blushed, and he feigned an innocent cough to cover up his growing flustered reaction. this.. this was what he meant with how you had that effect on him. he was quick enough to change his expression before the rest of the group looked at him.

mina, yuta, lisa, and taeyong looked at the both of you and just realised how your outfits matched. johnny’s outfit was similar with yours; an oversized purple dress shirt, a white tank, cashew coloured pants, a pair of white sneakers, and ending the whole fit with a pale mustard yellow bag.

johnny freaking suh was dashing this morning.

“we didn’t plan this, did we?” johnny broke the silence, before walking towards you.

he brought his hand out, asking permission to hold yours. you pressed your lips together and did what he requested. strangely enough, his hand had a very nice warmth.

he pulled you closer to his side, putting his arm around your shoulders gently. you could hear your heart ringing in your ears. he was too close for comfort but for crying out loud, he wasn’t just any person, he was johnny suh; the guy you very much liked.

“we’ll be late for our breakfast movie date, see you guys later at night.” he signaled his friends and yours, shaking his car keys on his free hand.

while you both turned to a corner a few streets away from your building complex, johnny released his hold on you. stunned, you saw how tensed he was after acting all tough.

that amused you a lot. because behind that intimidating and manly exterior, was a soft and nervous guy on a date.

you wouldn’t say you were any different either, because you were just as tensed as he was. “you okay?”

johnny finally looked at you, “sorry, i’m not usually like this.”

then it hit you.

“is this your first valentine’s date?”

“a proper one, actually.” johnny sighed while looking at his watch, “crap we got ten minutes ‘til the movie starts.”

your eyes widened and didn’t think for a second,. “well we don’t want to be late now, do we?” looking at the town just a few blocks away. “i’ll race you.”

johnny was in shock and broke out into a cackle. “okay. but don’t blame me if you lose.”

“don’t underestimate me, suh.” you grinned, already sprinting away from him. gosh were you happy you chose to wear sneakers today.

the movie was a re-showing of spiderman: no way home. and you heard that johnny was a huge spiderman fan. luckily for him, you were into movies from marvel. except for the recent ones, we don’t talk about those.

after the morning date, johnny had everything planned out. the next agenda was to go for a stroll in the park to take photos and to your surprise, he really lived up to his reputation.

you’ve come to learn that johnny got this passion from his mom, who also took great photos of him when he was younger.

johnny looked at his camera’s viewfinder and spotted you smiling under the rising noontime sun. he hitched a breath, you were so beautiful, and he found himself falling in love even more.

“you hungry? it’s almost lunch time.” you asked him, breaking him out of a daze.

“yeah!” his voice came out all funny, “i booked seats at a restaurant just there.” he pointed at a crowded street. “you good with sushi?”

he was sure his heart melted when you jumped in excitement. “omg i love sushi! let’s go!”

as you walked to the crowded street, johnny felt stares at him that made him uncomfortable. you weren’t oblivious to this though, your sharp eyes caught how even random ladies your age would fuss over the model like young man beside you.

hearing whispers on how handsome he looked and how he was an ideal type for all, you knew he was tensed. so you didn’t think twice to hold his hand and pulled him, walking across the crowd.

it was like how you knew his mind was occupied, johnny felt at peace when he felt your hand on his. “i heard we could get a discount if we go in as a couple.. for today.” he heard you say and your eyes smiled at him. “you good with that?”

finally, a considerate question. someone who apparently spotted his vulnerable self and someone who actually cared for him. you were so different than the previous dates he’s had.

“yeah.” he smiled at you, staring at your tinted lips that called onto him. then he mentally slapped himself for thinking that so early.

lunch was actually quite enjoyable, johnny kept the conversation going and he was unexpectedly funny. putting in one-liners and cracking a couple of jokes filled your stomach with laughter more than the food itself.

he was attractive, loved and intimidated by many, and he was idolised by many sport enthusiasts. to see your crush take you out for valentine’s and witness how he really is in person was something you’d like to keep. and he was just a normal goofball.

a cute kind of goofball.

“if you stare at me for too long i might as well kiss you.” he teased you while he plopped a sushi in his mouth.

“with that salmon sashimi in your mouth? no thanks.” you teased back, catching johnny off guard and he coughed. you chuckled and gave him a glass of water. “sorry about that.”

“that was unexpected.” he cackled, “but that only told me that you’re willing to kiss me.”

you only shook your head, “maybe. maybe not.”

again johnny was taken aback by you, did you have feelings for him for you to say such a thing? today was a friendly date, but would things be different if you both actually have mutual feelings?

he didn’t want to get ahead of himself yet he hoped something good would happen today.

“bill please.” johnny gestured to the waiter, taking his wallet out. his peripheral vision caught you taking your pouch out as well. “it’s okay, y/n, my treat.”

“but-”

“i know about the half and half payment situation going on. but since it’s valentine’s day, let me treat you.” placing his card underneath the receipt book.

“okay, but it means you’re treating me the whole day though.”you closed your wallet, smiling regrettably at him.

johnny just smirked, “unless i score another date with you.”

your cheeks heated up again. smooth, johnny suh. “alright.”

“let’s go to the amusement park?” he stood up, letting you go first to exit the restaurant.

you nodded excitedly, today was going to be a long day for you.

for the whole afternoon, you and johnny rode quite a lot of rides there was in the amusement park. even stopping for a cotton candy and a churro snack break in some of them. and just like johnny, never had you ever experienced a date as fun as this.

two of the last things you both did were the game stalls and bump cars. he bluffed saying that he’d win you a teddy bear even though he really liked it. it was then you found out that he loved stuffed toys. it should’ve been a turn off but for you, it wasn’t. it was actually adorable.

you both ended up carrying two giant teddy bears after being competitive with each other.

johnny brought out his digital film camera and took shots to remember the whole event. he was enjoying himself and couldn’t wait to actually have more with you- if there was going to be more anyway.

he knew he was in love you for the longest of time he knew you. and he couldn’t help but think you did as well. he loved the way you still looked so pretty after you hair was in a mess during the bump cars, smiling and having fun with him.

getting off the bump cars while the sun painted a hue of pink and orange, you both walked towards the turnstile to exit. he checked his phone for a bit while when he noticed people looking at your behind.

until he spotted a bright red stain on your dress. you probably didn’t know you had your period today. locking his phone, he took off his dress shirt and wrapped it around your waist.

for the bystanders who witnessed this, it felt like slow motion that it was a scene worthy to be penned for a romantic movie.

you gasped a bit at the very close proximity with him. “johnny?”

“excuse me for this y/n.” he said softly by your ear. “you’re on your period, so i had to cover your back before more people see it.”

his low velvet voice gave you goosebumps and then realised how embarrassing it was to have him do that. when your eyes met with his, his apologetic smile made you fluster so much.

what you didn’t expect was the now sleeveless johnny- was just as flustered as you were. not sure how long you were staring at his beautiful brown eyes, also at his plumped lips. you decided to break the awkward silence.

“oh my gosh.” you covered the lower half of your face. “i need to go buy sanitary napkins.”

johnny coughed briefly before letting go of your waist. “.. right. i’ll wait for you when you’re done.” taking one of the bears while the other one sat on the bench.

making your way to the girls’ toilet after purchasing a pack of napkins, you slapped your cheeks in embarrassment. your period should’ve arrived after the date. now johnny had to walk around in his tank top for the rest of the evening without his dress shirt.

his dress shirt.. ah whatever. you told yourself.

johnny’s expression lit up when he saw you exiting the toilet, still feeling bad for you but eased up when you smiled. “well since i do have my period, i’m suddenly hungry.”

he snapped his fingers and laughed at your reaction on everything. “great, one last hurrah. i booked a reservation at a french restaurant. heard ladies shouldn’t consume anything oily.”

your mouth went agape as he skipped away with the two teddy bears. “but i was craving for burgers and fries!”

“well you’re having baguette and framboise tonight, young lady.” he called out and laughed once again. and that actually made you chuckle.

“you pronounced ‘framboise’ wrong!”

after you both finished your meal at the fancy french restaurant, you still felt bad about his dress shirt while he must’ve felt cold throughout dinner. it must’ve been stained by now. johnny was quick to pay attention, he licked his lips and rubbed his chin as you both walked back home.

so, the whole valentine’s day was productive; morning cinema and breakfast, a scroll in the park, lunch at a sushi restaurant, amusement park, and a french cuisine dinner. a total package. johnny really outdid himself on this one.

he wished today didn’t end so soon.

and so did you.

“i had fun today, johnny. thank you for being my first valentine ever.” you bit your lip while doing a repetitive tiptoe movement.

johnny ruffed your hair, “i’m glad you liked everything. i hope we can do more of this.”

your eyes lit up, he enjoyed your company. “definitely. but hope this-” you gestured to your ‘accident’, “- doesn’t happen again.”

“y/n, don’t worry about it.” he spoke out, letting you know it wasn’t any problem for him at all.

you scratched the back of your head, “thank you, and i’m so sorry, johnny. i promise to wash it and return it to you.”

he held your shoulder, “it’s okay. keep it. i’ve got an extra one.”

“maybe you just want me to remember about it.” you playfully rolled your eyes and johnny chuckled.

“or maybe i wanted to imprint you.” he stared at your face, then to your lips for a few seconds before laughing. “i’m kidding.”

he waited for an answer but you just blinked at him, looking at his lips that was the distraction the whole day. he took that as a cue that maybe you also wanted what he thought of too. but he didn’t want to act recklessly.

it was quiet for like ten seconds. and ten seconds felt like forever. you felt like your heart was going to explode and johnny felt a rush in him to just go for it.

he put down his bag and the stuffed toy, pulled you closer to him. his hand placed around your back and the free one by your jaw. your face was close to his and you both could feel the tension that was evident in the air.

and even though it was like that, you loved how johnny had the decency to ask your permission before anything.

“can i kiss you?” he asked softly, his eyes trailed to your lips once more before back to your eyes.

the way you were lost in his gaze, how your eyes moved its attention to his lips, and a small nod was already a signal for johnny to make his move.

the grip he had on you tightened a little and you both shared a kiss under the lamp post that was outside your apartment complex. you didn’t know long it was until you and johnny’s smart watches alerted, saying:

“detecting abnormal heart rate.”

stopping almost abruptly, you both caught your breaths after a mutual understanding of your unsaid feelings towards each other, you and johnny softly laughed.

“does this mean we’re official?” you asked nervously, holding his forearms. johnny pinched your cheek as he hugged you gently, swaying you both around and you sniffed in a quiet laughter in his chest.

“well y/n, we’ve already imprinted on each other so.. yes, we’re official. my valentine.”

174 notes · View notes

theonekrafter · 2 months ago

Note

Hey! I just recently found your Magneto fic and I am absolutely obsessed. Any updates coming in the future?

i’m super glad you enjoyed magneto! this ask has gotten me to finally put a discontinued in the description of magneto. it’s not at ALL because of you in particular, but i’ve realized by putting off adding it to the description i’ll keep giving people false hope. forgive me if i use this ask for a tediously long post describing why exactly i will never update magneto, so i can link it easily for anyone with similar questions in the future. 😭

so. short answer? no. magneto will probably never be updated. i’m really sorry for that. my interests have changed since graduating high school and i don’t really want to write bnha anymore.

long answer?

i started writing magneto pre-pandemic during my junior year of high school. i had seen there was only about a 100 self inserts for bnha at the time and thought “well, if i post something it’ll probably get a lot of attention, since the fandom is growing in popularity a lot and there’s a scarcity here!” 2019 was an interesting year for fanfic in bnha, since it didn't have enough content for the growing eyes looking for it.

i ended up being very correct. too correct. i actively updated magneto over the course of half a year, roughly, and in that time it rapidly climbed in attention. since 2020 ive only updated it about twice(?) and that hasn’t deterred the new readers it’s gotten. i get comments every other day asking about updates.

magneto is currently the most kudo-ed bnha si-oc on the entirety of ao3. which is fucking insane. i don’t think it deserves it, but popularity is rarely about deserving. usually it’s about being just good enough, just novel enough, and being posted at the right time.

but i digress: it doesn’t feel possible for me to update magneto for a variety of reasons.

1) my disinterest in the setting would make any future update disingenuous.

i haven’t been actively into the bnha fandom in about four years now. i don’t really read bnha fic aside from the very occasional si-oc, nor have i kept up with the manga or anime. the only fic i’ve ever written for the fandom is magneto, and it’ll probably always be my only fic for the fandom. (watch me say that and be wrong in the next few years LMAO)

it would be really rude of me to stomp into a space i don’t even like anymore and post something lackluster and lacking in passion. especially with the express intention of gaining more engagement from readers. like it or not, magneto IS the most popular si for bnha, and i think i drive attention away from better books by updating and inadvertently preserving that position in the ranking.

I can't believe no one has written any "self-insert as Bakugou" fanfics yet what a bunch of cowards by the_incidental_author and i have jostled back and forth for that #1 kudo-ed spot for the past five years. which i admit has been fun, but i would very much like for them to overtake me. it’s clear (to me, at least) that they actually enjoy writing bnha more than me and update more often to boot.

i fully welcome ANY fic to take magneto's position at this point, if only so that less people comment how poorly written it is. which leads me into my next point.

2) my writing style has SIGNIFICANTLY changed over the past five years.

when i do my yearly reread of magneto i actively cringe and have to resist the urge to rewrite every chapter in a separate google doc. in any hypothetical world where i do add to magneto, i do a complete rewrite. in no particular order, the things i would change are:

kenzo being defined by three character traits and nothing else. her exhaustion, her mild spite for her father, and her aimless wandering through the plot

better grammar. dear god the grammar errors. dear god the SPELLING ERRORS

the pov characters being more developed and feeling more like Individual People with their own personal motivations and histories that are not defined by what the plot needs from them (cough, reacting to how cool kenzo is)

not just recapping each anime episode and stating what kenzo would do in that situation

placing greater focus on the way quirk society discriminates against those with undesirable quirks and backgrounds. what does it really mean to be the child of a criminal in a world where people assume that sort of thing is hereditary?

kenzo's classmates should've been more classist in general, especially in relation to quirk discrimination. UA is a school only the most wealthy and powerful get into, there's no way there wouldn't be social disconnects that create tension between a dead eyed daughter of a villain and more than a few nepo babies.

if you have any interest in naruto, skyrim, asoiaf or dragon age you've probably read my more recent fics. fluffy clouds and a tinge of wonder, the fic i have updated the most this year, is a really good example of how significantly my writing has evolved since starting magneto in 2019. my technical skill and style have changed enough that it just would be tonally jarring for me to update magneto without outright rewriting everything.

like. im being so fr with you right now, i didn't learn how to start outlining until about a YEAR AGO. magneto was written on a chapter by chapter basis with little idea of where exactly it was going. i implied that there would be a future confrontation between kenzo and her father, but i didn't have any idea of HOW that would occur or even what the consequences of it would be.

adding to magneto as it is would be like trying to add a sleeve to a shirt that's missing it's entire back panel and most of it's front. i'd be playing catch up with the plot and end up having to rewrite previous chapters anyways.

3) bnha commentors have been kind of really mean to me compared to other fandoms i've written for LMAO

ok. please don't draw and quarter me for this. MOST commentors have been extremely complimentary, and kind. besides the occasional bomb of like seven comments in my inbox of ten hearts from one user (which, sweet, but please don't do that) the bnha fandom has been totally fine.

but a very small minority have been really pushy about making me update a fic i have clearly not touched in two years, and realistically haven't actively updated in four. from comments just saying "wow this is great. update soon." to DETAILED reviews of how bad my fic is and how they can't believe how garbage like magneto is so popular.

which like. i don't feel personally attacked by? i fully agree that magneto is bad for the previously stated reasons. i wouldn't read magneto if i were a casual reader and hadn't written it. usually the second kind of comment really annoys me because of it's presumption of importance and for how soul crushing it would have been for sixteen-year-old me to read.

bnha as a fandom, especially in recent years, has felt more and more like they treat fic like something that is created in a vacuum. souless content that exists for readers to consume. the comments don't go to an inbox, they go to a void, so really it doesn't matter if i say something really belligerent to an author i don't know about a Self Insert Fanfic They Wrote In Between Rehearsals For Their High School Play.

but whatever. if it had just been me experiencing that i would've written it off as like just my fic, but a close friend and frequent cowriter of mine Reavv has dealt with this a lot more than me.

they wrote It's a like a time travel comedy, without the comedy, another very popular bnha fic, and had to private it because people were going to their other UNRELATED fics and badgering them to update it. people still go into their comments insisting they unprivate it, oblivious to the fact that every time they ask it adds another year to reavv's internal timer for when they will.

a combination of my own experiences and reavv's have completely put me off of writing bnha i'll be fr. even if i was still in the fandom, the majority of my fics will always be about fucking dragon age and skyrim. i do not want random bnha fans coming into my dragon age fics and, AFTER NOT READING THE FIC, saying that since im active i should clearly update my bnha fics. that's a nightmare scenario for me.

in conclusion

i am so glad that people like magneto, i'm glad that i wrote magneto. the initial jump in readers i got from magneto gave me the confidence to write other fics, and the alternating pov format is a staple of most of my writing now. some of the comments i got for that magneto when i was a teenager were the only things that kept my ass going.

but magneto is never being updated. i don't even think it's gonna be rewritten. i really am sorry about that, but it is what it is. thank you for reading it, thank you for loving it, thank you for feeling ambivalent about it. good talk.

btw to the original asker, again. this is NOT a rant directed at you, you just inspired some Thoughts in me and i had to let them loose.

#asks #magneto #bnha magneto #yukimura kenzo #fanfiction #a detailed semi essay on why you will never get a magneto update #my bad guys #i shouldnt have updated it in 2022 i gave you all some really false hope #i did it because i felt obligated to do so #because of how popular magneto was and is #but i genuinely do not gaf about bnha anymore #it cant be helped #to those of you coming from ao3 where i've linked this post #HELLO!#please do not be mean in the comments or try and convince me to change my mind lmao #it will not work. i do not like bnha anymore. i just want to write about fantasy

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fortisfilia · 9 months ago

Text

Promised Part 2 - Tom Riddle x reader

Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)

Summary: In this story, Tom didn't grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader's sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, sickness, bullying

Word count: 1.7k

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

Part 2 - Back in Hogwarts

Being back at Hogwarts felt strange. Usually, it was like coming home, where the old stone walls kept you warm even when they were so cold. But this time, having left your sick little sister behind and after practically selling your soul to the devil, you felt as if everyone already knew. Every time someone looked at you, underlying judgement was inherent in their gaze.

How could she do this? How could she agree to marry someone she didn’t love? She probably did it for the money. Or for his reputation. Both perhaps.

No one had said anything to your face yet, but the nasty expressions they wore gave them away. Girls from year five had always greeted you, had looked up to you, trying to impress older students and wanting to be noticed. Now they didn’t look you in the eyes, even though their stares bore holes into the back of your head and when they thought you were out of earshot, they would group up in the hallways and whisper to each other.

Camille Kegley was the only person you trusted enough to talk to. She was your best friend since your first year in Hogwarts and being with her had always been easy. She was a breath of fresh air - humble, fun and a loyal friend. A true Hufflepuff. So you had told her every little detail. How your sister got cursed, that the Gaunts visited, what they offered and what they asked for in return. Camille’s mouth hung open by the end, but she understood.

“I would have done the same thing for my brother,” she said. “I’m so sorry all of this happened though. If I can do anything to help you out, just let me know.”

“Thank you. Really. The only thing I want right now is for everyone to stop looking at me like I murdered someone.”

“You think they know already?”

“‘I’m not sure,” you sighed. “Seems like it.”

“Have you told anybody?”

“Just you. And please. Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want Elsie to be the girl who’s been cursed when she starts school next year and I won’t be here to help her.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry. But how would anyone know it then, by now?”

“I have a feeling the Gaunts want as many people to know as possible. To make it harder for me to back out.”

“You think Tom-”

“No,” you said and shook your head. “It seemed he was even more against it than I was. His grandfather, Marvolo. I think it’s him who’s eager for everyone to know.”

“Wanker,” Camille said.

“Tosser,” you added.

“Merlin’s saggy left bollock,” Camille went one better and you both laughed. “And what about Tom?”

“What about him?”

“Well, if they’re going through with the pact like you said, you’re going to marry him. Do you like him at least? In any way?”

“I… don’t know. I hardly know him. Though he seems to take after his grandfather, unfortunately.”

“Saggy bollock,” Camille whispered.

“I guess I’ll try to get to know him. We’ll have to get along someday after all.”

“Good idea,” Camille nodded. “You should do that.”

“He’s so distant. Cold. I don’t know how to approach him.”

“Oh, that shouldn’t be too hard. He’s just a man. They're all quite similar if we're honest.”

“I’m not sure he’s similar to most men we know, Camille,” you said and she laughed.

“You’ll have to find out, then. Maybe, deep down, he’s quite nice.”

“Maybe.”

Maybe not. Tom acted like nothing had happened for the first week of school. Either Morfin had slipped some Forgetfulness Potion into Tom’s tea, or he actually detested you that much, because it felt as if he didn’t even know who you were. He didn’t greet you in the hallway, hell, he didn’t even glance at you in class. Nothing. How was this supposed to work if he didn’t try at all? It was unfathomable.

The only person who talked normally to you, besides Camille, was Benjamin Hilt, a Gryffindor boy from year six. He was annoying, to put it mildly. Perhaps he just tried to be nice, but it seemed he wanted to know a lot about Tom and you. And, to be fair, you didn’t even know much about Tom and you.

Ben acted like Hogwarts’ very own private investigator, trying to elicit as much information as possible from you. He had you wondering if he was working for the Daily Prophet.

How did the engagement happen? Weren’t you still too young? Did your parents agree immediately? Was it possible that you didn’t do it willingly? Was it forced?

“Merlin, Ben!” you shouted. “Stop asking all those questions. What are you trying to get out of this?”

“I don’t know,” he said and scratched the back of his neck. “It’s just so strange, you know. I’ve never seen you two together. Seems off.”

“Well, mind your own business then. Git,” you said and rushed out of the great hall.

Even though Tom avoided you magnificently, his friends, or rather his followers, seemed very much interested in you. And not in a positive way. They looked you up and down in class, followed you in the hallways and you could only guess what they were mumbling to each other. Certainly not compliments.

Emlyn Avery and Tiernan Lestrange were the worst of them. The two boys were on you all the time. You tried to act as if you didn’t notice, but it got more concerning each day. Every time you looked over your shoulder, those two were standing close. And they smiled so spitefully, it was clear how much they enjoyed freaking you out. Bastards.

It had become a habit not to walk the corridors alone. Camille was with you most of the time and if she couldn’t be there, you followed random groups of people until you found one of your friends. This technique, as humiliating as it was, worked well. Until that one day, when Professor Binns asked you to stay for a moment, after your History Of Magic lesson. Not only did he take ages to get his point across, but made you more nervous each second, when your classmates’ voices faded until you couldn’t hear a single sound from the hallway.

Your heart was beating in your throat when you left the classroom. Of course. Avery and Lestrange had waited for you. With their stupid grins on their faces. They didn’t even act as if they were there for something else.

You pondered where to go. The great hall was always busy and also quite near, so you turned right. They were following you. You heard their footsteps behind you and they were coming closer.

Whenever you went a little faster, the two of them did too. You thought about running away but didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

Eventually, they caught up. Avery walked to your left, Lestrange to your right until they had you cornered.

“What do you want?” you asked and tried your best to control your voice.

“Just wanted to say hello,” Avery said.

“Hello,” you said and tried to push through them, but they didn’t let you.

“No,” Lestrange smirked. “We’re not done yet.”

“Did Riddle send you?” you asked. “To scare me?”

“Why would he do that? To his future wife.”

“You tell me.”

“We’re here to clear some things up,” Avery said. “That you might not know.”

“And what’s that?” you asked.

“You see, we don’t know how you did it. How your family pulled that trick to make Tom agree to marry you. It can only mean that you’re plotting something. And -”

“Wait, he didn’t tell you?” you asked.

They didn’t answer right away but exchanged an involuntary glance with each other. A sore point. Interesting.

“We know enough, okay?” Avery hissed. “Tom has a great future ahead of him. And I swear, if you get in the way, you’re going to regret it.”

“I’m not -”

“Shut up,” Lestrange interrupted you with his wand close to your face. “I don’t know what you’re after. Money, fame, whatever it is. You might want to think about it again and I’ll have you know it’s not worth it.”

“I don’t care for any of that.”

“Come on, what other reason could you have to pull off something like that?”

There was no way you were telling them about Elsie. Every student would know by next year and she was far too sensitive to handle that. “None of your business.”

“That just proves you’re not trustworthy,” Avery said.

“Because I’m not telling you two my reasons?” you almost laughed. “Give me a break. Why didn’t you ask Tom? Your good friend who confides everything to you.”

Their faces turned red, their embarrassment obvious. Even if everyone knew how much power Riddle had over his friends, they didn’t like to be reminded of it.

“Listen here, you little -” Avery stopped talking when a hand touched his shoulder and pulled him and Lestrange away from you.

Tom stood there, looking at them rigidly. “What are you doing?”

“We’re… Just…”

“Talking to her. Trying to get to know her better,” Avery mumbled.

Tom looked at you for a second, then back at his friends. “Doesn’t seem like you were having a nice chat.”

“Oh it was very nice,” Avery said. “Making friends.”

“Was it a nice chat?” Tom asked you.

You were still so tense from them threatening you and hadn’t expected Tom to talk to you directly after days of silence, so you just stammered, “I… They -”

“Shut up you,” Lestrange took a step in your direction until Tom pressed his wand against Lestrange’s chest.

“Don’t,” Tom said through gritted teeth.

“I wasn’t -”

“I don’t care Tiernan. Let’s go.”

Without another word, the three boys walked away towards the Slytherin common room. You were still glued to the spot when Tom turned around and glanced at you.

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 3

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clementineofmine · 3 months ago

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For the ask game :)

Same Weird Family (the series): 1, 4, 5, & 9

Thanks, @assaily, for the ask! I'm going to answer this based on Same Weird Family, the first in the series because I haven't gotten to talk about that one yet. It's the first fic I wrote (that you know of, lol) so while I now find parts of it a bit rough, it'll always be near and dear to me as it came about due to a visceral need to word vomit about these characters.

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

I started this fic a few weeks after S2, and like many I was absolutely inspired by the absolute savagery and increasing desperation of Five in that season. From killing the board to rewinding time, Five did so much for his family that season and none of them knew about it. Plus, the season ended in a new timeline, so the "what's going to happen next?" opportunities were almost endless.

I was also deeply inspired by those who took a stab at post S2 before me, including but definitely not limited to NonLinear Theory for Dummies, The Walls Kept Tumbling Down, Creeping Towards Extinction, and Tangled in the Hanging Tree. If you haven't read these and you like my fic, you're going to love these. They are all angsty and excellent.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

I'm gonna call out Allison here, because while she didn't get a lot of focus in this fic, I think she deserves a chance to yell at her brothers more often.

“Well, if we can’t take him to the hospital-” Allison’s words returned them to the practical matters. She looked around as Diego and Luther both shook their heads at her as confirmation. Vanya looked torn but didn’t disagree. Klaus remained focused on Five. “-we’ll have to watch him. We’ll take shifts.” “Oh boy, Five’ll just love that,” Diego scoffed. “He’s unconscious. He’ll deal,” Allison pointed out, closing the discussion. She finished cleaning up Five’s injuries and straightened his clothes. “And if you guys are done with playing pissing contest,“ she gave a pointed look to both Diego and Luther, “you can help me get him upstairs to the bedroom."

5: What part was hardest to write?

Chapters 1-6 and part of 7 came at me fast and furious, but I floundered a bit trying to get through 7 and 8 to the end. I think the writing is a bit awkward and it does make me cringe a bit.

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Not alternate versions so much as I did a lot of rewriting (I'm a pantser; I try to let my characters speak and sometimes they surprise me)

If you'll permit me to tag onto your ask, I'd also like to answer 3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

I spent a lot of time dissecting Five's internal emotions during this fic, trying to make sense of what drives Five - the anger and frustration and desperation that we saw on screen in S2, and beyond. I'm quite proud of some of it. Here's a snip:

“FIVE!” The shout cleaved him violently from his thoughts. Five blinked, confused, and looked up. His mind registered that his name had possibly been said more than once. Oh, he remembered, almost absently. His siblings were pestering him. Five sighed. All of the energy that had once fueled his rage was gone, drained away as quickly as it had spiraled up. Anger merely simmered now, rather than burned. He no longer felt dizzy, just…tired. In the clarity of hindsight, Five knew he hadn’t ever really been angry at his siblings. Annoyed, sure. Frustrated. But anger was reserved for the fact that Luther and Diego’s questions dragged things out of the little box, things that snagged and pulled at the cracks and exposed his weakness. For the memory of the light fading out of Klaus’s eyes, reaching for Five but still dead before he hit the ground. For the way that Vanya’s body crumpled like a discarded paper doll. Mostly, Five’s anger was directed at himself. For being played, and not figuring out the only possible end to the Handler’s deal until it was much too late. If he had been thinking clearly. If he only… Stop, Five. There’s no good destination down that road. “Five, we just want to help you” the soft voice said. He still didn’t care to pick out its owner. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t bear to keep listening. His siblings had died because of him. Again. And everything that happened afterwards – his survival, his thoughts, his actions – he could give them everything and still would never be enough to make it up to them. Never.

fic ask game

#tua #the umbrella academy #fic ask game #five hargreeves #thanks for the ask!#i wrote it

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malimaywrite · 8 days ago

Text

i disappeared again and i'm back cause i need a distraction. (i hope you all have been as well as you can be. please, please take good care of yourselves)

with less important things since i've been here:

i have 2 full requests out with literary agents (~20 rejections and waiting on another ~20 to get back to me and about 10 agents i'm waiting to see if they'll open up. idt i'll be querying beyond them?? i know that would be only like 50 agents queried in total but we'll see)

long querying journey (so far) ramble below

so i started querying two-ish months ago with 7 queries. i got a rejection by an agent who requested a manuscript from me yearssss ago within a day (they're a fast responder) and it hurt like hell. i got 2 more rejections and despite the ok on my query from pubtips on reddit prior to starting, i changed that query after that (made it even shorter, went from covering both POVs to one POV, from covering 40% of the manuscript to 15%-20%).

i sent more queries out and kept racking up rejections and it was affecting my mental health (severely the first two weeks tbh then calmed down especially once i got another story idea). i posted another slightly different query to pubtips hoping for someone to help me pull out the 'wow factor' of my query. at that point, the query seemed like it was "pretty good" but not "oooooh! i gotta read this!" good. i got a reassurance that the premise and stakes were there and big, but i needed to highlight some things better. then (after other posts with compliments or the 'thumbs up' on my query and first page) someone said my first page/first 300 words weren't "written to publishable standard" which ouch especially when you're racking up rejections, but i took what they said (purple prose, antecedent problems, contextual issues) and clarified the issues/edited down.

that comment then led me to ask a YA fantasy author i admire who frequents pubtips (she writes full time, has great work/novels, always gives helpful advice on pubtips, NYT bestseller) for help. i crossed my fingers and asked if she had time to read my query and first ten pages and she messaged back minutes later to say that she loves when people shoot their shot, that she just turned in a manuscript and to send it over!

before i got her notes back, i got my first personalized rejection where an agent said they liked my premise, but the first five pages went too fast. they then mentioned i could revise those pages and send it back. i was already thinking of rewriting the whole chapter by that point (my thinking being i've tried two very different queries with no bites so it has to be the pages) so this only led me to go full on with a 1st chapter rewrite. then i got to work.

literally while i was mid-chapter rewrite, i got notes back from the YA fantasy author. she thought my voice was "fantastic" (!!!), the pacing was great (???), said that she read through it without stopping, and that she knew i'd get requests on my first chapter. the query wasn't quite there yet to her though and she did lovely line edits to help me and told me that i mention a villain romance in my metadata paragraph but it doesn't show up in the plot summary paragraphs and that that was my big marketing draw. so i reworked it with her notes to pull it out. i debated still rewriting the first chapter, but decided to trust her notes on it and betas and take a chance that the query had been the issue the whole time.

i sent out more queries with the new query and same pages and got my first request a week later. i decided to send it out to the rest of my list that was open because this is mentally draining, at least i knew something was working at that point, and i have another story coming if i need to query again. i got a couple of rejections from this new group and the old groups and then another request a few days after that from the new group.

this is where i'm at at this point. it's been about two weeks since the last request. i've since gotten a rejection from the last agent in that first group of 7 a few days ago and one from another agent in an earlier group as well. i've been checking querytracker non-stop lol, but i will say that i'm feeling more at ease with this than i was the first two weeks (behaving like you have a finite number of ideas or that any manuscript has to be The One or it's over......is not helpful during querying so i'm glad that's chilled). i have a YA fantasy retelling idea (it's very rough rn lol) that i hope to start in december and what ever happens with this current story is what happens.

i hope all of your writings have been going well! and i'm sorry if you read all the way down to this point lol.

#writing update #odg&s #writing community

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minorfamilysupremacy · 2 months ago

Note

Not an ask I just want to thank you because like most of us, I am also a grown adult who often can't keep updated on most things and honestly hearing that Bible is acting childish ..kinda makes sense and also I too am pissed off and over BOC

this post is for the handful of anons in my inbox and also @claudiasharon, who wanted to know what the fuck is going on:

while you're most assuredly welcome, i want to be clear that whenever i post about this shit, i am not enjoying the callout aspect of it. callout posts got us into the original mess and as a general rule, i loathe them. i'm just a hurt and furious former stan who got taken for a ride by several shitheads, and bible scrambling to revise history like we all got collective amnesia or are too fucking stupid to remember things that happened all of two years ago makes me even angrier.

his most recent claim, in an interview that hasn't been released yet -- only the promo is out -- is this (subtitles are in the promo, not fan-translated):

yes, everyone, as usual, bible is the true victim, and fucking pond even moreso, despite the fact that BOC has since produced a reality show, a movie, and two television shows (as well as one they made and then just never released, i guess? sorry wuju), and bible himself had 50 engagements the year build's career went to hell. it's a wonder he can do the interview with the boss' boot shoved so far down his throat, in all honesty.

he is also making up sob stories, complete with crocodile tears, about growing up poor (he grew up rich and went to an international school) and almost failing at his dream and letting the family down (he admittedly struggled with acting, but was a working model and studying engineering, an extremely lucrative field, so it's not like the family would have starved without KP).

it is insane how obtuse, callous, and audacious this fucking shit is. first off, we have eyes. we saw your fucking interviews and your quotes and the parasocial dweebs on twitter probably have your five-year record of bowel movements timed to the second. (of course, my information is coming from parasocial dweebs on twitter, so.) secondly, what the literal fuck is wrong with you? are you really looking at the guy who got his career destroyed, almost driven to suicide, had years' worth of dirty laundry leaked at a deliberately-slow trickle to instill maximum damage, and going, 'well, actually, pond and i had it worse :('

pond chose to sit and wring his hands uselessly over a situation he could have prevented in the first place had he banned sucking and fucking between coworkers at the outset. you continue to flap your jaws ceaselessly and try to rewrite history -- 'nuh uh! i NEVER cared about build!' -- like the internet isn't forever and a whole hell of a lot of people can't pull receipts at the drop of a hat. you are an unprofessional, mean-spirited, heartless, dishonest, unbelievably noxious cunt masquerading as a human being. you continue baiting the bear that is social media and then whining when the bear takes your arm off. both of you SHUT THE FUCK UP about build. SHUT THE FUCK UP. he is out of your lives. he is doing nothing to you. he has not mentioned your fucking name once since he apologized for the last set of leaks, while you have been spiraling into the image of a middle-aged dad who's been divorced since 2013 but still can't get over how his bitch ex-wife wronged him.

and even without build in the picture, you come off like a spoiled little brat. when your heinous show finished (and thank god it has), the first thing you did was run to social media to bitch about the ending and how much you hated it. couldn't even be professional for five fucking minutes, huh? you think you're some kind of golden god because you're the boss' current fave and you're sleeping with his niece on the DL? (by the way, homie, your subterfuge with that one is about as well-kept a secret as harvey weinstein was. we all know you're fucking and have been for ages.)

newsflash, shitbag! pond cares about you inasmuch as you're of utility to him! as long as you behave yourself and playact as his personal propaganda machine, then you're fine, but do you really think that the second he so much as sniffs a hint of liability on you that he won't drop you like a hot potato? i, for one, fucking hope he does and soon, because watching someone who was once heralded as one of the brightest new talents in BL prostitute themselves for the whims of a greedy, lying narcissist and torch mountains of international goodwill in favor of making a career as a professional victim makes my stomach turn. if you ever take a mike's hard look at yourself and realize what a chump you've been played for, i hope it fucking hurts you like watching you play us for chumps for so long did to us as a fanbase. but i sincerely doubt you will ever wise up, because isn't it more lucrative and convenient to be a soulless ghoul and not have to take accountability for being an asshole?

eat shit, dude. i hope when the ship finally goes down and pond's tied you to the mast, that it was all worth it.

#it will never not enrage me that i stanned someone like this #those true colors came out and by god they're fucking ugly #asks

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somnas-writes · 1 year ago

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Okay sorry if this is weird lol but in your "the bodyguards should have been friends" post you mentioned a fix-it fic and I am very intrigued- Is there anything about it you want to talk about?

Yeah!! I have a lot I want to write about (even though I haven’t finished the show, I’m already brain rotted)

The Theerapanyakun boys dynamic is one thing I plan to change/mess around with.

They would be genuinely unstoppable if they teamed up, but their dads (derogatory) are hellbent on keeping them isolated and in survival mode

They are all incredibly emotionally unavailable as well (they got HELLA trauma)

There’s five of them and I think each combination would have really different interactions/bonds

Khun, Kinn, and Kim are pit again Vegas and Macau their entire lives (major vs minor family feud, Korn and Gun being SHIT DADS)

They’re hostile because that’s what they were taught.

My plan/outline has them going through really big emotional break throughs (they get put in Situations and are forced to Confront their issues)

And as a result they band together

I also just want them to have good family relationships cause they deserve it

They bodyguards get to be Friends

I get that they had certain relationships and dynamics because it helped drive the plot

But holy hell imagine how uncomfortable that workplace setting was

Like big and Ken specifically hated Porsche. He hates them too, but it was an incredibly unhelpful thing

They all had their own duos (arm-pol, big-ken, Porsche-Pete), but as a group they could’ve had an great dynamic

Especially since they work for the same guys!! They get how crazy the work they do is, and they all know how these guys behave

They don’t even have to be besties (they aren’t for most of my rewrite) but for the sake of working smoothly they need to at least be casual and comfortable

I’m making Big work through his little crush on Kinn too

he and Porsche get to discuss what it’s like pursuing Kinn. it is something they should talk about, Kinn is a shared aspect of their life and having that grudge of “my crush chose him, not me.” Is just soooo petty and not healthy

Also Ken isn’t the traitor because I like him, he’s funky

Porsche and Chay are Good Siblings

I hate how they kept each other in the dark about huge things in their life

I understand (both as a younger sibling and as an older sibling) wanting to protect your family and not see them hurt. But it’s part of life!! Stuff hurts and it happens

They have a pretty special dynamic, with Porsche basically raising Chay

I wish we could’ve seen them being close siblings more in the series, I love the little montages we got of them together

But I think it’s missing that key part of them being unabashedly Honest and Real

Especially since Porsche choosing to become a bodyguard impacted a lot of Chays life. The one constant and stable figure of his life disappeared overnight and he had no way of contacting him

Porchay was alone during one of the most vital times of his adolescence. Porsche was isolated during a big change in his

In the rewrite, I want them to be more open about what they’re experiencing

They’re also just more ‘sibling like’, they go to annoy each other for fun, they work together against people because they’re a team.

One specific scenario I’ve been thinking about is Chay seeking out his brother to just be with him. (The scenario I’ve been envisioning is Chay walking into Kinn and Porsches room just to stare at him, dance Gangnam Style, turn off the lights and leave. I want Kinn to be absolutely baffled and Porsche to be Just So Done)

They’re siblings!!! It’s so fun to bother your siblings

Korn and Gun DIE

Im the second biggest Korn-Anti (Kim is first)

They’re Bad Parents and Shit People

They tear people apart just for their benefit and I’m Over It

I want these mfs DEAD AND BURIED

Kim deserves to stand at his dads grave, talk shit and walk away

I want their kids to heal!!! They deserve to be happy, even if 3/5 of them are Gigantic Meanies

And some silly little details for fun!!

Porchay is a Kpop stan, I’m a Kpop stan so I’m projecting (he makes Porsche watch music videos with him and they learned a dance together once)

Porsche (pre-mafia) was involved in a variety of activities (street racing, dance battles, catering, modeled once or twice)

Porsche can do street dancing, learned when he was like 11 and it became his go to dance style

Porsche and Chay have matching tasers (Kuromi and My Melody respectively)

They bond over sad music (Olivia Rodrigo, Lana Del Ray, Taylor Swift and Mitski)

Chay likes Sanrio

Chay gets his own ‘stage name’ (its Serpent, he wanted a cool sounding one like Phoenix)

Macau shows up more, no particular reason I just miss him

Jom and Tem show up more towards the beginning (they’re Porsches ride or dies)

Big also speaks English (while Ken is Aussie, he’s got a bit of a English accent)

Kinn really likes snoopy (he has a snoopy blanket from Khun that he hides)

Khun makes the bodyguards (main 6) dress up as the sailor scouts at some point. They all fight over who gets to be Sailor Moon (Ken won and actually ate it up)

A lot more name calling and cursing, I’m talking fun ones!! Porsche calls Ken and big lots of names when they’re rivals. (‘Mean girls’, ‘Dick riders’, at one point ‘Jack and Jill’)

Kim is into lots of alt-rock, pop-punk, and alt-indie American bands

his music as WIK is nothing like any of that. It’s just Jeff saturs discography (in my mind I’m mixing in other solo artists, mainly eric nam and RM) [i have a lot of brain rot regarding music]

Kinn is a LOSER (/pos, affectionate) he deserves it

The bodyguards get drunk together and make a tier list on which Theerapanyakun boy is the most likely to get canceled and why (ignoring mafia activities) [i might make this a post later lmao]

While they’re getting drunk Porsche falls and eats shit, big loses it and cries from laughing (that’s their little break through moment in their friendship)

#I destroy canon #and eat it for breakfast #I dont actually eat a true breakfast often #it’s more like brunch #but you get it #thank you sm for the ask!!#I’ve had intense KP brain rot #like I have 70 au ideas #I have a Spider-Man au in the brain (momma Kittisawat was spider-women. chay and Porsche inherent the abilities and mantle)#but the rewrite/au is something I really want to get out #it’ll take a long time bc I have 0 energy but it’ll be a work in progress #I have a lot of ideas #and I just need to get a solid outline and timeline for the story #somnas.rambles #somnas.writes #kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #kpts #kpts au #kinnporsche au #kp rewrite #kinn theerapanyakul #porsche kittisawasd #porchay kittisawasd #I haven’t actually even finished the series #I started it during the end of the school year and has to stop bc it was too distracting #it’s summer now and I haven’t continued #cause I lost the pirating link💀#I’ll find it eventually and finish the show #thank you so much to ask again!!!! it means a lot that someone want to hear me ramble<333

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mossy-kit · 1 year ago

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What’s the white whale fic about!

(also answering this ask from my beloved @yrael “hiiii you should talk about forever's a luxury” thank you also 😊)

ohoho my white whale... my holy grail.... my "one day if this were done it'd be really good but it is distinctly not done"... forever's a luxury, aka my Tyler Violet post ambush reintegrating into their life fic. Started back pretty much right after Tyvi got resurrected, back in summer 2021, and then I kept picking it back up and sticking bits on it and rewriting intermittently for quite some time, up until my lull a while back at least.

The central premise of this one is essentially just Tyvi, who died back in season 3, coming back after being unceremoniously ambushed roughly thirty years after they died. They immediately leave the Tigers’ shadows to go back to stay with Ziwa, who I tend to lore as their childhood friend and essentially lifelong ride or die. For both of them, it’s this incredible gift they never expected to be given, but at the same time Tyler’s got a lot going on: nearly their entire team was Ship of Theseused away in their absence (which they still feel guilty for and particularly broken up about, since they helped sign up a lot of the early team members), the game is still going on and putting the people they have left in danger, they feel bad for leaving their teammates still down in the Hall, and mostly – on some level, they want so badly to fit into the hole that was left, and so do their friends, but they’ve been gone thirty years, and never had a chance to do the growing that the still-living ones got to do, so they’re stuck with a lot of twenty-something baggage and habits that the people they’re closest with (namely Ziwa, and then Greer, their sort of ex) have moved on from in a lot of ways, and it’s about them finding their way through that to keep going forward anyway.

some snippets because now I’m in the word document again and remembering how much fun this was to write:

“Tyler still can’t help but feel like if they blink, one of them will disappear. Because the gods don’t offer gifts for free. They know that. So if they’re alive, it’s because they’re a marionette held by callous hands, and they’ll need to dance to earn their place, just like everyone else. It’ll catch up with them; they don’t know how, but they know it just like they knew the minute Jaylen burned that they would too, eventually.

But Ziwa’s here, they’re here, right now, solid and wide eyed and so very, very alive, and so is Tyler, even if only for tonight.”

“Sure, they look like the one they knew; they could have been twins. This one’s glowing eye is green instead of purple, but even in that difference, the mischief lighting up the unlit eye is almost exactly the same. They watch this Jenkins high-five a scruffy looking pitcher with an extremely bedazzled jacket, and they keep having to remind themselves that this isn’t them, that this person won’t remember always sharing the Hawaiian pizza with them in the away game hotel rooms, tag-team teasing right back if anyone tries to argue the old pineapple-on-pizza debate. Because that person’s gone, has been for a long time now. And it’s not like she didn’t know that, but it’s not every day you have to look the proof in the face.” <- Tyler is not so much getting along with Jenkins in this fic at least at first lol

“Their first thought, when they wake up, is whether Kennedy’s going to want to go and stand by the big rock that they claim “gets better reception” to see if they can get a Haunting in that day, maybe try and pass the last message they wrote through to Vela. And then for a moment they’re wondering where Hobbs is, because he usually ends up half sleeping on their arm and maybe he got up early to go talk to some of the Magic like he does when he’s bored because he’s never really slept much and then they’re wondering where all of them are, because Eli should be snoring, even though they don’t breathe he still manages to find a way to snore, and Trev should be stirring by now too, and then they get this horrible, sinking feeling in their gut that something’s wrong, something’s horribly wrong, and so they force their bleary eyes open and all of them are gone, and the memories crash back in all at once.”

augh. anyway. one day I’ll write this, shake my fist at god, etc etc. thanks for the ask! always fun to get into it again 😊

#she's really Goin Through It riv

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years ago

Text

Rewrite the Stars

Day 7, Post #1 is by @adenei

Title: Rewrite the Stars

Author: adenei

Pairing: Ron/Hermione (Romione)

Prompt: Songfic

Rating: PG

TW: Depiction of blood purity/discussion of prejudices against Muggleborns, Violence/Murder mentioned (but not graphic)

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

*This fic is inspired not only by the song, but also Anne and Philip's relationship in the movie The Greatest Showman.*

Summary: AU In a world where there’s no Voldemort, but blood purity is strictly enforced, Ron and Hermione must navigate their budding relationship, and all the trials and tribulations that come with it.

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

“Are you sure this is alright?” Hermione asks as she smooths the front of her dress, checking for wrinkles for the fifth time in as many minutes.

“Yes, it’s fine! You look beautiful,” Ron assures her.

He places a warm, comforting hand on the small of her back as they enter the grandiose ballroom where the Auror department is hosting their annual dinner. A handful of Aurors are honored for their achievements, but over the years, it’s turned into an event for the upper classes and Purebloods.

Hermione knows she doesn’t belong here, amongst the men and women whose wealth and social status put them leagues ahead of anyone else, and it’s rare to receive an invitation to such an event even as a Halfblood. But as a Muggleborn, Hermione braces herself for an onslaught of jeers and slurs. If Ron wasn’t being honored for his success on a case he’d worked six months to solve, she wouldn’t be here at all.

Ron has always encouraged Hermione to follow her dreams, even during their Hogwarts days. Though they were sorted into different houses, the two shared many Prefect rounds together. Being named Head Boy and Girl also brought them closer together, where they began seeing each other in secret . Neither had intended to break things off upon graduation, but when Hermione received rejection after rejection for potential jobs within the Ministry, she pushed him away too.

There was a time years ago when she hoped to be working within the Magical Law Department with dreams of making the magical world a more accepting place for every witch and wizard, no matter their blood status. But those bright-eyed and bushy-tailed dreams have long since dissipated. The rules are archaic, and there’s no chance of overturning something so set in stone until there’s a new Minister of Magic who would be open to the possibility.

So, for now, Hermione tends to a job that gives her equal satisfaction. She teaches young Muggleborn students in a special school that she founded with the help of Professor McGonagall. Hermione earned her certification to teach the primary levels at University after graduating from Hogwarts, and now works with Professor McGonagall to teach those students between the ages of five and eleven how to prepare for the world they’ll enter when they’re old enough to go to Hogwarts. This is in addition to all of the regular courses that Muggle England expects them to study.

The prep school is what reconnected the pair, when Ron was assigned to work the case of an eight-year-old that disappeared last year. It was determined that the child was abducted by Fenrir Greyback and turned into a werewolf. Ron found the boy’s body deep in the Forest of Dean, where it was determined that Fenrir became too bloodthirsty on that particular hunt.

Hermione was distraught over the outcome and took comfort in Ron, who was equally shaken by the case. As the weeks following the case progressed, Hermione found herself spending more and more time with Ron. Slowly but surely, they found their way back to each other and had only just rekindled their relationship a couple of months ago.

Since their relationship still feels so new to Hermione, they’ve kept things quiet. But she knows how important tonight is for Ron, and she wants to be there for him. To support him the same way he supports her. Hermione knows he will be by her side through it all, and has assured her that no one will make any comments.

Ron leads them around the room, exchanging pleasantries and mingling with people Hermione’s only heard stories about. Thus far, everyone she’s encountered has been polite. They are about to make their way to their table when a voice calls out to them.

“Ron! There you are, dear! We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Hermione turns to see a plump woman with hair the same shade of red as Ron’s. A man follows in her wake who peers at them through half-moon spectacles with the same cerulean eyes that she’s so familiar with, only they’re attached to a different face. They’re much colder than the warmth Ron’s eyes emit, and that’s when the dread begins to expand from the pit in her stomach.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were both attending tonight,” Ron attempts to hide the surprise as he greets his parents.

“And miss the opportunity to see our son receive an award for his hard work? Don’t be silly,” his father responds with a wave of his hand.

Hermione has yet to meet Ron’s parents. A chill crawls up her spine as they talk to their son as if he is standing by himself. Suddenly, all of Ron’s promises become emptier than the desk of her former student.

“Er, right. Mum, Dad, I’d like you to meet someone.” Ron gestures toward Hermione.

She can see his mouth moving, but no sound comes out, at least not that she hears. The blood drains from her ears, causing momentary deafness as she stands under the scrutinizing stares of his parents. Hermione holds her head high as his mother admonishes his choice of a date. There’s no empathy for them whatsoever.

“...What will everyone think? You come from a certain class of people, and we need to uphold our status. At least go for a Halfblood, darling.”

Years of following the mantra ‘hold your head high, don’t let it bother you, stay in your lane’ have still not prepared Hermione to endure this moment. She is a strong-willed woman, she fights for what is right, and she refuses to stand here and take this woman’s judgmental words all because of the family she was born into.

This is the exact reason why Hermione insisted on keeping their relationship private. Her feet move on their own accord as Hermione tears herself away from Ron’s side and weaves in and out of the clumps of people. She manages to find the visitor’s entrance and exits to the bustling streets of London. Refusing to cry, she rushes along the cobblestone sidewalk and down a deserted alleyway.

Hermione forces herself to forget the sound of Ron’s voice calling after her as she disapparates away from the Ministry of Magic. She finds herself in her classroom, staring at all the empty desks in front of her. Desks of students who would be forced to meet the same unfair limitations that she lives day to day. She feels so helpless, not knowing what to do in an effort to make their lives easier.

Looking down at the elegant maroon ball gown she’s still wearing, she feels dirty. This isn’t the life she’s meant for, no matter how many assurances Ron can give her. She doesn’t belong in his world. Thank goodness she keeps an extra outfit in her coat closet, which she rushes toward before shedding the expensive formalwear from her body.

Once she’s changed, Hermione sits down at her desk, staring at the piles of papers left to be graded. Ron insisted she leave them there so they could spend their weekend together. A heartbreaking realization enters her mind as she thinks of his name.

We can’t be together. This is never going to work.

It’s as if he knows that she’s thinking of him as the floo lights up and he stumbles out. Ron sheds his dress robes, leaving him in his starched white dress shirt and pressed black trousers. She refuses to look up even though she can feel his gaze boring into her as he stands at the head of her desk.

“Hermione.”

She says nothing because what is there to say?

“They’re small-minded people. What do you care what they think?”*

He reaches for her hand, but she tugs it away as she sits back in her chair.

“It’s not just them, Ron. You haven’t lived this life. You don’t know what I’ve been up against. You’ll never know what it feels like to be looked at the way your parents looked at me tonight. The way they spoke down about me to my face. I can’t—I can’t be subjected to that. The way people will look at us because we’re together. I don’t deserve to feel that way.”

Hermione stands up and exits the classroom, stepping into the abandoned hallway. She can’t do this anymore— it’s too painful. She’s learned to pick and choose her battles. It’s better to let people like the Weasleys think they’ve won while she keeps fighting on her own.

You know I want you, it’s not a secret I try to hide.

I know you want me, so don’t keep saying our hands are tied.

You claim it’s not in the cards, that fate is pulling you miles away and out of reach from me,

But you’re here in my heart, so who can stop me if I decide that you’re my destiny?

“Hermione, don’t do this. Please. I don’t care what they think. I want you, and nothing else matters.”

She stops and only turns her head slightly to see him leaning out of the doorway, his hand gripping the door jamb as he calls after her.

What if we rewrite the stars, say you were made to be mine

Nothing could keep us apart, you’d be the one I was meant to find.

It’s up to you, it’s up to me, no one can say what we get to be

So why don’t we rewrite the stars, maybe the world could be ours tonight.

“Please, love, don’t let them dictate what our life looks like.”

The desperation in Ron’s voice is what makes Hermione turn all the way around to face him. She begins to walk a few paces toward him before the voices in her head get a hold of her. He’d become an outcast if she stayed with him. She can’t let him risk everything he’s gained by choosing her.

You think it’s easy? You think I don’t want to run to you?

But there are mountains, and there are doors that we can’t walk through.

I know you’re wondering why because we’re able to be just you and me within these walls

But when we go outside you’re gonna wake up and see that it was hopeless after all.

“You know it’s not that easy. We can’t just run away from everything so we can be happy. Your family would never forgive you, or me for that matter! Everyone will do everything in their power to tear us apart. It’s not worth it.”

“So, what? You’re saying we’re not worth it?”

No one can rewrite the stars. How can you say you’ll be mine?

Everything keeps us apart, and I’m not the one you were meant to find.

It’s not up to you, it’s not up to me, when everyone tells us what we can be.

How can we rewrite the stars? Say that the world can be ours tonight.

Hermione reaches out and clasps his hands with her own. “No, you’re not listening to me. You’re worth so much to me that I have to let you go.”

“But what if I don’t want to let go?”

All I want is to fly with you.

All I want is to fall with you.

So just give me all of you.

It feels impossible (It’s not impossible).

Is it impossible? (Say that it’s possible.)

“I don’t want to let go, either, Ron, but I have to. You mean too much to me.”

She knows it’s better to be hurt on her own terms than to let someone else hurt her instead. Ron will see reason eventually. He has to. Hermione wraps her arms around him, tighter than ever before, putting all her feelings into one single embrace, hoping that he can understand.

How do we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine?

Nothing can keep us apart, cause you are the one I was meant to find.

It’s up to you and it’s up to me, no one can say what we get to be

And why don’t we rewrite the stars, changing the world to be ours…

There are many things she can change, but her blood status isn’t one. Above all else, she’s proud of being a Muggleborn, and she’ll keep teaching her students to be proud of their roots as well. She’ll keep her memories of Ron and how wonderful he is locked up tight as she finds a way to navigate this world without him. Hermione has made her decision as she kisses his cheek and lets go. Perhaps in another lifetime, they’ll be able to be together with nothing standing in their way.

You know I want you.

It’s not a secret I try to hide.

But I can’t have you.

We’re bound to break and our hands are tied.

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice leaves the faintest echo among the abandoned halls. Before she loses her nerve, she turns on the spot and apparates away, leaving the hurt look that is etched on Ron’s face burned into her mind as she leaves him alone.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #romione #ron x hermione #tw: blood purity #tw: prejudice #tw: violence (non graphic)#tw: murder (non graphic)

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dragynkeep · 3 years ago

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I have been writing a story since July 2016 and one of the pairings has Scarlet paired with a woman. One year before the manga release where his sexuality was confirmed. No readers at the time had a problem with it since, 1) it was the readers that encouraged me to make this pairing, and 2) how was I supposed to know the writers would confirm an LGBT+ character in supplementary material? I had to be *told* he was gay because I didn’t consume anything outside of the show!

Only… now it’s becoming a problem. All the sudden new readers are side eyeing me in the reviews because of this pairing. I’ll explain why it’s a pairing, but it’s like they aren’t reading my replies. It’s gotten so bad I’ve disabled PM’s on FF, and I’ve gotten comments on AO3. I’m afraid to put any development on their relationship at risk of angering people, especially since it isn’t the main pairing. Any advice or feedback? I feel guilt that I previously didn’t. Rewriting the whole thing is not something I want to do, especially since I already rewrote it once to improve upon the prose, and also… it’s like, over 400,000 words. I don’t have time for that.

It’s really disheartening. I recently came back to finish this story because I know how frustrating it is to find a story you like only for it to be abandoned. But I just don’t feel… I dunno, appreciated? I know lots of my readers love it and my writing style, but these comments are seriously wearing me down. I’ve made it clear I don’t intend to ship Scarlet with any female character in other projects I start (I don’t intend to write him at all anymore, tbh, since I’m disgusted with his VA). Its obvious my Scarlet is nothing like books Scarlet, since I had to create a whole fucking personality for him. I’ve taken measures too. Addressed it in the first chapter’s notes. Answered every PM and comment before it became too much. This story is my baby. There’s this whole plot that is more than just who is with who and yet the new readers only care about the damn ships. I’ve never given grief to another writer because I didn’t like one of the relationships in a story I liked, so like. Why? Why don’t you write your own damn shipping story if mine offends you so much?

Aaand I got another one while I was writing this ask. One of the new readers got pissed that Yang wasn’t with Blake. I kept my rwde identity separate from my writer identity specifically to avoid this. Now my old readers are happy but the new ones sometimes are fine and sometimes give backhanded comments as they keep fucking reading. Makes me wish AO3 had a block option. And I really want to comment and just tell them to stop. Fucking. Reading.

It makes me want to stop again. But I also don’t want to, because I love sharing my work. Uh, so anyway, sorry this turned into a vent ask. I can normally handle hate comments fine, but to be accused of erasing a queer identity when that identity didn’t exist at the time of the pairing’s creation is frustrating and demoralizing. Criticizing my writing constructively is totally fine and I encourage it, but accusing me of being homophobic or participating in queer erasure when the damn show won’t even let the gay character exist beyond books that are subpar, or who let queer rep exist for maybe five minutes of screen time before they’re shuffled off? Like, what the fuck? Why am I being held to a higher standard than the damn show who profits off this shit and actively damages the community with their Bury Your Gays bullshit that they’re upset they didn’t go through with when it came to Pilot Boi? I’m terrified to reveal my pen name on this damn site because I don’t want people attacking my work, but apparently it was just a matter of time before I got attacked anyway. I don’t even want to associate my tumblr name with anything about my story out of fear, so that’s why I’m on anon. It’s just… URGH. That’s also part of why I admire you two. When I saw you posting AZRE stuff I was just like, “Wow, they’re not afraid to post their fic stuff on their rwde blog? Impressive.” I’m too paranoid to post my fic info!

I just realized I started ranting again. Sorry lol. I’m just so tired.

wow, straight up i’m so sorry for what you’ve gone through with this fandom.

firstly, some advice to give would be to put moderation on your comments, that allows you to screen comments before they’re registered as reviews on your work; you have the ability to change this at any time on ao3 but unfortunately i don’t know what more can be done on ff as neither of us have been there in over a decade. it really doesn’t put the creators first which is one of the pros of ao3 in my opinion that it does put author safety first.

secondly, a suggestion luke made was to also put a disclaimer in the actual description of the work if you feel like that’s something you want to do. obviously it won’t help those determined to be assholes but it might help some who are just not paying attention to the chapter notes.

as for scarlet & his sexuality, while other queer people may feel differently, this obviously isn’t a case of you being malicious & deciding to ship a gay character with a woman. we’d had scarlet in the general show for years before he was confirmed by a non canon manga to be gay & then further for miles to see that & decide that he wanted only that portion to be canon. that is not on you, it’s on the cishet writers for deciding that queer representation comes on a whim for them & then everyone else needs to bend to it when they spent years mired in ambiguity. unfortunately the same issue is with coco & other characters assigned queer throughout the show that is now putting artists & writers at risk with pieces they wrote before the confirmation & now don’t want to delete because obviously that’s a lot of hard work to just flush down the drain because mkek set their queer gun ray on another character.

& the reviewer who was miffed that yang & blake don’t get together can choke on a fat one; there’s no obligation for them to get together when the show itself can’t even decide if they’re in a relationship or not, despite milking fans for money about it. & even if they were canon in the show, it’s not yours or anyone’s obligation to then have them be together in fanfiction. the whole point of fanfiction is that it’s transformative works, they don’t have to be beholden to canon & it’s not on you.

to the reviewers & people in the rwby fndm who see that coco or scarlet are shipped with the opposite sex; don’t get mad at the writer / artist. get mad at the writers who took over half a decade to confirm these characters as queer & then threw them away to off screen land. fan creators are not beholden to the same level as the actual writers & they never should be.

& honestly just hot take but a fic about a confirmed queer character being in a mlw relationship is not the end of the world & it’s honestly not anywhere near actual oppression queer people face. stop crying about a fanfic & for the love of god shut up & get offline. this is the same mentality that led to a child being harassed last year by whole ass grown ups because they shipped poly cfvy. for fucks sake this is so pathetic.

you absolutely should do what you feel is best to protect yourself, thankfully there’s been little to no backlash for us over azre — which was surprising considering it’s a adam centred rwby rewrite — but what works for us might not work for others. if you feel comfortable though, absolutely dm us the link to your fic as i’d love to give it a read & toss some nice reviews your way!

#rwby #scarlet david #coco adel #mkek critical #owl.txt #answered #q #honestly im tired of queer rwby ultra stannies #they're so embarrassing

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trillian-anders · 5 years ago

Text

the assistant

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

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

word count: 6.8k

description: part 1 of 5. CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE FILM. you’ve been working for the thrombeys for four years now, the last three years of your service being a glorified babysitter to the most annoying, self-absorbed, dickhead hugh ransom drysdale.

You wanted to smack that dumb smirk off his stupid dumb face.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale. The bane of your fucking existence. Standing there with that stupid fucking smirk on his face, he fucking loved this. Watching as you cleaned up his mess. A crying girl on his doorstep and you, his assistant (aka babysitter), trying to calm her down enough to get her to leave his house. This dumb contemporary floor to ceiling windowed, minimalist, empty souled house. The girl had been picked up at a bar last night. Charmed by his handsome face, the money he was careless to spend, the way he spoke to you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world.

It was a fucking joke. A trick. You’ve seen it a million times and you’d be willing you bet that you’d see it a million more.

The door blocked her view of him, your clear view of him from the side, sipping on a mug of coffee in his hands and fucking smirking.

“He won't even see me?” You hated when they cried. Like each of them had this idea that they’d go home with Ransom Drysdale and fuck him so good that he’d tie them to his bed and never let them leave or something.

You sighed heavily before replying, “Mr. Drysdale has business to attend to, he’s unavailable at the moment, but I can leave him a message if you’d like?” You did this maybe five or six times a week. In the early morning hours, after his sexual escapade and some rest, Ransom would wake early and leave for the gym. In that time you were supposed to ‘take out the trash’ as he described it. This morning, the girl left dazed and confused in the fog taking an uber back to her home, but returning an hour later trying to plead her case. It was giving you a migraine.

The girl stepped back from the porch, shoes crunching against the gravel as she searched the windows for his face. “FUCK YOU RANSOM.” She shouted, flipping the bird into the air. The man hiding to your right, choked on his coffee in laughter as you watched the girl get back into her car and disappear from sight.

“What's on the agenda today Ransom,” You shut the door quietly, turning to face him, “Because if I have to do that again tomorrow I’ll quit.” He scoffed in indignation.

“You’re not gonna quit,” He drained the rest of his mug, “You can’t even leave the house long as you got that.” He gestured towards your leg. Sitting firmly on your right ankle was a house arrest bracelet. One meant for him, but carefully bribed into being put on your own leg. The stupid son of a bitch got away with murder, after the death of his late Grandfather’s housekeeper by his own hand and the attempted murder of the girl that got the entire Thrombey fortune, he stayed the lucky son of a bitch he had been his entire life.

Evidence was mishandled, not enough proof. That whole, ‘beyond reasonable doubt’ thing. The rich asshole got fucking house arrest and court mandated therapy. Even after there were three fucking witnesses to him attempting to murder Marta Cabrera.

Money oiled the gears of the justice system, letting the trust fund baby slip through without consequence. That’s where you come in.

You worked for the Thrombey’s before. As a tutor to Meg when she began to fail her english class. For whatever reason, Lynda and Richard Drysdale liked you, assigned you a new task. Their sweet baby boy Hugh, called Ransom by everyone but the Help. You’ve worked for Ransom for three years now. The first year before the death of his Grandfather and Thrombey patriarch, and now two years after his death and wouldn’t you know it. Hugh Ransom Drysdale wrote a fucking bestseller.

Everyone wanted an insight into this family. Harlan Thrombey always said there was so much of him in Ransom. He wasn’t lying.

Ransom wrote the first of what you knew would be many new Thrombey family murder mystery novels. And he was reaping in the cash. He was two months away from his next big release. Something you’re sure would fly off the shelves just as quickly as the first.

“Don’t worry,” He said, “I’ve got a deadline to meet.” His coffee mug abandoned by the front door for you to clean up, he left you to officially start your day. He retreated into the study he created for himself to crank out the last four chapters he needed for his book, maybe.

Due to circumstances beyond your control, you were the one placed on house arrest. As long as no one was notified that Ransom left the perimeter of the house you were being paid well, and you being paid well meant your younger sister gets taken care of. You were able to send her money every month to help with the fact that she was staying with an estranged aunt. It hadn’t been easy once your mother died, but the Thrombey’s lighten the load so to say.

That’s why you were washing Ransom’s sheets that reeked of sex, picking up and disposing of torn panties and tossing used condoms the fucking dick couldn’t be bothered enough to toss two more feet into the trash can in his on-suite. You’d invested in rubber gloves.

On days that Ransom had to meet with his probation officer he would wear a dummy bracelet. It got him by and soon the fucker would be over and done with house arrest all together. You’d be able to move back home then. Hopefully.

“Ransom, you ever gonna eat today?” You knocked on the open door of his study, bringing his attention from his computer to you, who held a bowl of pasta in your one hand. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. There were multicolored post-its surrounding his computer. Your mind made the connection with how similar it was to his Grandfather’s own workspace. You gently placed the bowl on his desk, turning to pour him a tumbler of whiskey from the small bar in the corner of the room.

“I don’t know how the old bastard ever cranked out two books a year,” His neck cracked. “How is that even possible?” He took a large bite of the pasta, squinting at the screen. His eyes quickly shifted to yours, watching you set down the glass of whiskey in front of him. He grabbed your wrist. “Stay.” It was an order. “Sit.” You took your place in a chair across from him.

“Harlan wrote every day,” You told him, “You write whenever you’re not off sticking your dick into anything that breathes.” He laughed at that.

“Not everything that breathes,” He typed a few more words into the word document, “I haven’t fucked you yet.” Your core pulsed, he said yet.

Audibly you scoffed, “I would never willingly fuck you Ransom.” You pulled your legs up onto the chair to make yourself comfortable. He smirked at that, eyes not leaving the computer screen.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” That stupid smirk. You hated that fucking smirk. So condescending.

When you first met Ransom you were probably very much like the girls that you now pry out of his bed at 8 am. You had been tutoring Meg at the family home, sitting at the kitchen table going over Othello when he sauntered in, digging through the cabinets for snacks. You could feel Meg tense up next to you and that’s when he turned. He was so fucking pretty. Blue eyes, well kept hair, cashmere sweater, those broad fucking shoulders, and on his face, stretching that full bottom lip you wanted to tug between your teeth, was a smirk.

That pulsing throb between your thighs soon was quickly forgotten as he opened his mouth and began to speak, “How’s it going Meg, trouble reading? Or do they not teach you how to read when you’re a liberal? Lord knows you guys never fucking understand anything anyway.” Meg snapped back at him, but you were stunned. You could tell he said that on purpose, knowing it would make her go off on the tangent he was now, finding a sick pleasure in it. That was the first time you’d seen the smirk. You’d lost count of how many times you’ve seen it since then.

“I really hate you Ransom.” You sighed, sinking further into your chair. He had almost finished off the bowl of pasta by now, whiskey long since emptied. He thinks it’s funny, you hating him because he responds looking you in your eyes, maintaining his smirk,

“I know you do baby.” He liked to do that. Call you pet names. Once he had even pretended you were his wife when you accidentally walked in on him and a girl he had been balls deep in, bent over the back of the couch. He fucking LOVED that one. The girl had cried, embarrassed, apologizing as she picked her bra up from the floor and slunk out the front door behind you. That was a while ago. Pre-Murder. You should have seen it then. How insane he actually was.

Ransom was incredibly smart and was a quick thinker. It was part of the reason that he had gotten away with murder in the first place. You knew that. It showed in his novel. He would have you read chapters, give him your opinion, before writing and rewriting. Showing you again. He’d ask you if you could figure out who was the murderer, a sinister glint in his eyes, arms crossed, standing above you waiting. He could only be satisfied if you didn’t have a clue.

It was a gift, you supposed, the ease in which he wrote to make every character a possible suspect in completely new and incredible scenarios. He had three books in various states of completion that he was chipping away at, the one he was currently working on seemingly better than the previous published.

His Mother, the one who gave him the silver spoon and cursed him for having it his whole life, was suddenly proud of him. His Father, now divorced from his Mother, would come by weekly asking for money. Ransom loved that too. His Dad got nothing due to the prenup, leaving him penniless. The cushy job he had at Lynda’s real estate empire was gone, and now Dad was working at local agency scraping by on low commission. Last week his Father came to the door while Ransom was writing and muscled his way not too kindly past you into the house.

“Ransom!” He called, finding his way into his son’s study. You quietly shut the door, returning to folding laundry. The door shut tightly behind him and sounds had been muffled. It’s only when their voices went from calm to a screaming match did the door wretch open and Ransom followed his Dad out, both red faced.

“We’ve given you everything in your fucking life and you can’t even give one iota back.” Ransom opened the front door, gesturing to the porch.

“Get the fuck out, and don’t come back.” His voice stern and commanding.

“Fuck you Ransom.” With that he was gone. The silence that had settled over the house was thick, Ransom’s hand still resting against the closed door before he took a breath and, without taking a glance in your direction, returned to his study. Closing the door.

The echo of that argument sat in the house for the rest of the day, Ransom leaving soon after to find a body to lose himself in. If the murder trial did anything, it made Ransom into a bad boy and girls fucking loved it. He wasn’t, technically, guilty after all.

You attempted to clear the bowl in front of him, but was stopped by his hand. His eyes never left the screen as he brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss in your palm, before dragging your arm to his other shoulder, hugging himself with it awkwardly until you gave in and wrapped your other arm around him, holding him tightly for a moment.

He was soft sometimes. His Mom never held him when he was a kid. He was left alone a lot while she was building her empire. Babysitters never stayed long, nannies came and went. Sometimes you truly felt bad for him, other times you remember that he was a dick and that he loved to play tricks and torment anyone and everyone that was supposed to take care of him, including you. The only difference was you weren’t able to leave.

He let you go soon after that, letting you clean up the mess from dinner and stoke the fire place warming the house that always seemed too cold. As you stood by the fire, arms wrapped around yourself you could feel him behind you, coming to wrap his arms around your waist, leaning his head on your shoulder as you stared into the flames. There was a moment or two of silence as you both stood there.

If this were any other situation, if Ransom loved you, if this was someone who loved you, if this someone cared enough to care about the things you care about, this would be kind of romantic. But it’s Ransom, and he didn’t care about anyone but himself, he definitely didn’t care about you, and he one hundred percent didn’t care about anything you care about. “I’m going out.”

His arms left your waist and his chest left your back leaving you cold. “For fucks sake Ransom, I don’t feel like throwing out a girl tomorrow morning.” You turned to watch him throwing his coat on. He smirked. He fucking smirked.

“I’ll give you a break and throw her out myself then.” And he was gone.

Hours later you’re woken by the sound of Ransom coming home, sure enough he wasn’t alone. Soft giggles and a bang, he’s shoved her against the wall beside your room. There were muffled groans as you assumed she found her knees right there in the hallway. He got off on this shit, you knew. Often stopping somewhere outside your door to start his sexual escapades. Knowing you were mere feet away, like some half-assed exhibitionism. It wasn’t long after that the girl squealed and there was more muffled talking before they moved to his bedroom. To which you shared a wall.

Your bedroom, before you were a live-in, housed a bunch of items you believed graced a teen boy’s bedroom walls at one point. And still, shoved in the corner, were playboy model cardboard cutouts, “They’re vintage, mint condition, and worth a lot.” Sure, Ransom, sure they are. Arcade games, framed patriots jerseys, a lacrosse set from his high school days. You were shoved in the middle of it all, a single bed shoved against the wall surrounded by what once was a room full of teenage boy memorabilia. A shrine to his youth.

The headboard soon came knocking and hope for sleep was lost. The girl’s moans escalating to shrieks. Either he was as good as he says, or these girls really care about his ego. Either could be true when there’s more than one comma in your bank account.

The kitchen was much quieter. A steady rocking still came from upstairs, but thankfully it was muffled by the floor. As you made a cup of tea you figured you would see if he had printed off a new chapter ready for you to read. You hope he wouldn’t have gone out without finishing it anyway.

You were not sure why you cared to be honest. You had this love/hate for Ransom. He was an annoying prick who did something really fucking horrible, but he also made it very clear to everyone involved that you had nothing to do with it. There was a scary moment there, after his arrest, when you were brought to the station for interrogation. You hadn’t known he had even gotten up to any of these crimes. He kept you completely in the dark and he was sure to let his arresting officers know that. You hadn’t even seen him since the night Harlan died when he left the party stranding you at the estate.

Money does crazy things to people. The threat of his steady income leaving was enough to push him to do something crazy. He was lucky enough that the recorded confession magically was erased. He was lucky for dirty cops. He was lucky that even though his mother despised his lifestyle she didn’t want him to go to prison. He was so lucky. Now with his first novel sitting highly on the bestseller list, he seemed even more lucky than he did before.

His study was on the opposite side of the house from his bedroom, muffling the sounds enough for you to flip through the packet left on top of his keyboard. Three chapters away from completion you were following the detective through paces where things felt more confusing than ever, the clues were unclear and there was not much to go on, but the tension between the eldest son of the victim and his ex-wife were mounting and it was hard to believe that maybe this guy had nothing to do with it despite what was described as an ‘air-tight’ alibi. You read through the chapter twice, scribbling your thoughts in red pen along the margins.

“What do you think?” You jumped in your chair, looking up to see Ransom in the doorway.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Your hand still clutching your chest. He had a glass of water in his hand, chest bare, solid navy pajama pants slung low on his hips. His chest hair always got you, just a little bit. He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and pushed off the door jam to walk into the room, taking a seat in the chair you occupied hours ago. “It’s good,” you cleared your throat, “I’m not sure how much longer I can wait for you to finish to be honest.” He chuckled softly.

“Let me see.” You handed him the packet and his eyes scanned the margins, reading your comments. They were mostly reactions, that’s what he liked. He wanted to know how you reacted to everything he put in front of you, did you like the romance, the tension, the lust he was trying to write between the ex-husband and wife? Or was it too distracting from the plot? Is the detective too unbelievable? He’s a character for sure. Can you figure out whodunnit yet?

“What are you doing out of bed?” You asked, spinning the chair side to side, waiting for him to put the packet down.

“I told you I was going to kick her out.” He took another sip from his water. You scoffed,

“And you couldn’t start doing this sooner?” A smile stretched his lips,

“I like how much it bothers you.”

“It’s annoying,” you said, “Worst way to start my day.” He laughed.

“That’s the only reason?” He asked, throwing the packet back on the desk, leaning back in his chair. Smirking.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” You pushed back from the desk, moving to exit the room. He quickly grabbed your wrist, tugging you over to his side where he looked up at you,

“If you wanna take their place, just let me know.” Your other hand came up to smack him on his shoulder, causing him to laugh as he released you, letting you take your exit.

“Dick.”

You found him the next morning at his desk, looking as though he had very little sleep. “Babe could you get me some coffee?” You yawned in the doorway,

“Sure.” It didn’t take long before you were setting the cup in front of him. “Your therapist is coming by at one.” He nodded, not looking up from his computer. “I’ll come get you when it’s time for you to get ready.”

He was focused. You weren’t sure where this focus came from. It was every once in a while that he would find this stroke of inspiration and write for a whole day straight. Hopefully he will be finished his book before schedule and be able to get ahead for the next one.

Soon he was washed, dressed, and ready for the one person he dreads the most. He hated therapy sessions. There were only ten more he needed to do before the court mandate was over. Ten more weeks until you were able to get this lovely ankle bracelet off when you would hopefully be able to go back to the routine you had with him before. Where you’d sleep in your own shitty apartment and show up to work a 9 to 9 five days a week.

After sessions he was always moody, quiet, and tended to need his favorite single malt restocked the next day. Not exactly in line with how he should be tending to whatever revelation the therapist has been streamlining him to, but that wasn’t any of your business. You could say though that during the last 42 weeks of sessions this refractory period was shortening to less and less time, maybe tonight you won't be peeling him off the floor of the study and dragging him up to his room drunk off his ass.

While in the session you were trying not to listen in on, you were sunk heavily on the living room couch, drinking coffee and reading the latest chapter he had slapped into your hands before entering back into his study. The book was so close to being finished, the last two chapters leading you to the big reveal and aftermath. The climax was steady taking hold and you were more sure than ever that the eldest son had something to do with it. You didn’t know what he did, but it was something.

He looked mad enough to kill as the Doctor left. Slamming the door, barely missing the Doctor’s jacket sleeve as he made his hasty retreat. Ransom stood seething for a moment by the front door, a chill running down your spine. He had murdered someone before, something you try to forget seeing as you are forced to spend so much time with him. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. It felt like an hour before he moved.

“I’m going out.” The words spoken sternly as he stomped his way up the stairs like a petulant child, returning moments later, cleaned up, eyes blank, before grabbing his coat and slamming the door loud enough to make you jump.

Aside from Ransom’s Mother never being around and aside from his Father’s string of extramarital affairs and aside from his Grandfather’s need to push him in every direction but close, you wish you could say that Ransom had a good childhood. But he didn’t. When he was little the kids picked on him for being rich, and when he was bigger they only became friends with him because he was rich. He was such a bully. At least, that’s what his Mother told you once drunk off chardonnay at his birthday dinner last year.

Disappointment.

That was a clear sentiment for the small family get together, and by small family get together you meant the dinner you cooked and Ransom looking like he’d rather be in prison than listen to his parents bicker over his Father’s new (Not so new seeing as he’d been caught kissing her by a PI before Harlan’s death) girlfriend. She was smart enough not to come.

This night was looking a lot like that one. Ransom, after his parents left and you began to tidy up, began to scream at you.

“What gave you the fucking right you dumb bitch?” He was spitting, face red as you cleared the dishes. “You’re only here for the money. The fucking money. How much is she paying you huh?” The bottle of expensive whiskey he had been drinking throughout the night was in his hand, swinging it around and taking pulls straight from the bottle. “Not enough obviously because you would have let me fuck you a long time ago.”

Your face flushed red as your own anger began to rise. He continued, “Never, ever, fucking again will you allow my parents in this house, do you understand me?” His unoccupied hand grabbed your arm tight enough to bruise, turning you to face him. His eyes wild and unfocused. “I said do you understand me?” You not so gently wretched your arm from his.

“Don’t touch me.” He always fucking did this. Blamed you for things you had no control over. Lynda approached you about a dinner for Ransom’s birthday. It was her name in your paystubs. You can’t say no.

“How dare you-” He began, but was cut short.

“No Ransom. No.” Like scolding a fucking dog who put his paws on the table. You threw the bowl you currently had in your hands into the sink, turning to fully face him. “I am only here for the money and I am only here because your Mother pays me a lot to be here.” His jaw clenched. “But I’m also here because I’m the only fucking person who even remotely cares about your ungrateful prissy spoiled ass and if it wasn’t for me you’d be sitting in this fucking glass house, alone, with only your own self-righteous attitude to keep you company. So don’t you ever touch me like that again. Do you understand?”

He loudly clunked the bottle onto the kitchen island, stumbling in your direction as you backed yourself into the sink. His trial had just concluded two weeks ago, Fran’s murder fresh on your mind and you wondered if you just made a terrible mistake. Over the course of this rant, the alcohol was sinking into his bloodstream, it turned his anger into a crippling depression. One that resulted in his hands softly grasping your shoulders, and tugging you into his body. His face found your neck and slowly started to grow damp with what you realized were his tears.

Your heart broke a bit, too much empathy, even for this asshole. Your arms came to wrap around his shoulders, letting him cry it out.

That was the first and only time you saw Ransom cry over anything. If he hadn’t been as drunk as he was you knew that moment would never have happened. The sweet little moment that made your heart ache was quickly gone the next morning when Ransom made you coffee and thought it would be hilarious that after you thanked him for being so sweet he joked that he poisoned it. You could still recall the cackles of laughter as you spit your coffee into the sink.

That was the day he began writing his first novel.

He came home alone tonight which was strange. And far earlier than normal. You usually were in bed, or holed up in his study by the time he arrived him after a night out. Staying out of his way as he drug a bubbly hopeful girl up to his bed to satisfy his own needs for the night. He found you tonight, sitting outside, watching Netflix on your tablet by the firepit you had decided to light, a hot cup of tea sitting on the end table next to you. Cozy and wrapped in a blanket.

You could feel his eyes on you from the doorway. You tapped the screen, pausing your show and turned to look at him. His hair was slightly mussed, face flushed, and socked toes curling from the chill. He was looking at you strangely.

“You’re home early.” You placed the tablet down on the end table, turning to face him. He nodded, crossing his arms and leaning against the door jam.

“I just needed a drive.” There was a soft smile on his face, well that’s new.

“Is everything okay?” He never tells you anything, but the sentiment matters. He looked to his feet, nodding.

“I’m probably going to try to stay up and finish the book tonight.” He shifted himself back into the house, your voice calling out to him,

“Come sit out here for a bit. It’s calming, just take a break from thinking for a minute.” He sighed and looked at you again, debating something in his head.

“I need to be alone.” You tried anyway. He disappeared from sight. And that was that.

The next day Ransom began acting even more strangely. The book was finished, the last two chapters handed wordlessly to you as he left for the gym on what you’re assuming was no sleep. That wasn’t the strange part. The strange part was when he returned three hours later bearing a box of donuts from your favorite bakery and two lattes, on his face was a smile.

“What did you do?” You accused, “Did you poison this?” You gestured towards the latte he placed in your hand.

“No.” He laughed, sliding the box of donuts to you. You stared at him skeptically before taking a sip. Tastes normal.

“Are you sick?” Your wrist coming to lay across his forehead, temperature feels fine.

“No.” He laughed again, pulling your wrist from his forehead and kissing your palm before opening the box of donuts, pulling a cinnamon sugar donut to his lips. “You just told me the other day how you missed these and I figured since I passed the shop on the way back it wouldn’t hurt to go pick some up.” It was suspicious. You continued to look at him skeptically. He sighed, placing the donut on the counter, grabbing the latte from your hand he took a large sip of it. “I didn’t fucking poison you Y/N.”

Okay.

Okay. You examined the box of donuts, pulling out the bear claw that was begging to be eaten. Still warm. You moaned in delight as soon as the warm pastry hit your taste buds. You really had missed these. Opening your eyes, you saw Ransom staring blankly at you before his eyes shifted to the packet by your side.

“All finished?” You swallowed and nodded, sliding the packet marked with red over to him and as he began to study your notes you tried to think about what could have possibly gotten him in such a good mood. The Doctor’s visit was odd enough. Yes he was angry when the Doctor left, but then just a drive? Not a blackout drunk, bringing two girls home to pleasure himself with and accidentally falling into a line or two of coke night, but a drive?

Maybe therapy had been working? Maybe he had a breakthrough? He finished the novel. The eldest son had something to do with it, his airtight alibi just that, a cover for the crime having been committed at a different time than the coroner’s estimated time frame due to him freezing the body and allowing it to thaw in the house.

You had asked Harlan how he came up with such incredible stories once. He said they just popped into his head fully formed, his brain moving faster than his fingers. He kept a little notebook with good ideas and would simmer in them as long as it took for a stroke of inspiration. The rest was just typing.

He smirked at some of your comments, ‘what a fucking joke’ you wrote next to the eldest son’s monologue about being passed over, his whining, annoying, self centered crying about how life wasn’t fair.

“What’s the smirk for?” You asked, removing the lid of your latte and dipping part of the bear claw in it.

“The lack of sympathy for Greg.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“He’s a fucking loser.” Ransom’s eyes met yours, “I bet you see a lot of yourself in him.” That made him laugh.

“What? You don’t like spoiled rich men?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. You rolled your eyes, taking another sip from the milky sweet latte you didn’t know would feel like your life’s blood right now.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“I think you find me endearing.” Ransom smirked. Your neck flushed.

“I find you annoying,” You admitted. “I only put up with you because of my paycheck.” He licked his lips.

“Sure,” He closed the packet, pushing it aside to take another bite of the donut, cinnamon sugar dusting his lips. “You put up with me because you’re secretly in love with me, but you know that I would never get with The Help.” This made you laugh.

“If you want me to be the Help I’ll gladly call you Hugh if it means you leave me alone.” He placed his paper cup on the counter, circling around to you.

“I like when you call me Hugh.” His hands came to rest on your upper arms, grinning.

“You’re disgusting.” He laughed at the clear displeasure on your face, spinning your stool around to him, and you leaned back, creating some distance as he came to stand between your legs.

“You don’t mean that do you baby?” His fingers toying with the ends of your hair. You could feel your nipples harden in excitement, body betraying you. A wet growing between your legs.

“Ransom what are you doing?” You said in exasperation. You weren’t blind. Ransom was gorgeous. You’d maybe, possibly, gotten off to the thought of him once or twice or maybe more than that in the four years you’ve known him. But he was also a scumbag who fucks and then throws girls out hours later. His moods were hot and cold. He had major Mommy issues and he’s not technically guilty of murder, but he’s a fucking murderer. But also… he’s been going to therapy and after that fight on his birthday last year he’s never laid a hand on you in anger again, there’s been some arguments sure, but he’s mostly nice to you. Caring even.

“Why don’t you love me Y/N?” His voice almost came out as a whine. He was playing with you.

“Ransom stop.” You pushed him away gently. He was fucking smirking.

“Usually there’s a ‘don’t’ in front of that.” Cocky bastard.

“You’re the worst person I know. And I hate that fucking smirk.” You picked at your now cold bear claw, trying to turn from him.

“Why don’t you wipe it off my face then?” Your eyes met his and you glared.

“What’s gotten into you today? Maybe you should go out early. Find some girl to satisfy whatever you’re going through right now.” His hands met your hips, spinning your stool back around to face him.

“What if I want you to satisfy whatever I’m going through right now.” His groin fit right up against your core and you could feel his throbbing heat between your legs. Fuck.

“Don’t make this mistake Ransom.” You placed one hand gently on his chest, attempting (but not really) to push him back. His forehead coming to rest against yours. “You don’t want this.”

“This is the only thing I’ve ever really wanted.” His breath mingled with yours, sweet, cinnamon and coffee.

“You’re not thinking straight.” His lips brushed against yours, tongue coming out to wet his lips, his eyes locked with yours. Why weren’t you pushing him away? Your breath hitched as his tongue accidentally grazed your bottom lip.

“The only clarity I’ve ever had in my life has been when I’m with you.”

His lips pressed heavily against yours, pushing you back against your bedroom door as his hand came to tangle in your hair. He was all consuming, body hot and heavy against yours. Your core was thrumming with want, moisture pooling in the crotch of your yoga pants. His hips were rolling into yours and you could feel the hard length of him against your belly. His lips quickly moved across your jaw to your neck and you could hear yourself moaning softly as he licked, sucked, and nibbled on the sensitive skin below your ear. Your hands clenching the soft material of the t-shirt by his hips, dipping your fingers slowly into the waistband of his shorts.

His lips parted from your neck, hand tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes before taking your mouth once more. His mouth moved down this time to the tops of your breasts, hands leaving to shift the thick wool cardigan off your shoulders and onto the floor before dropping the straps of your camisole and exposing them to the air, nipples already pebbled in excitement.

You hadn’t dated in a while, unable to because of your paid house arrest and before that the way Ransom had worked you to the bone picking up after him. And the touch from someone else always felt better than your own. His hands felt huge on you, protecting.

Your head met the door as he enveloped your right nipple in his mouth, rolling the sensitive bud on his tongue until he felt the left neglected, and switched, beginning to toy with your right nipple between his finger tips. Moans and heavy breaths were the only sounds in the hallway as Ransom made his way down your body, slipping your yoga pants and panties off your hips as he found his knees before you.

“Ransom-”

“Shhhhh,” He pressed his lips against your naval, working his way to your trembling core. His hand lifted your right thigh, draping it over his shoulder as his eyes focused in on your, what you knew must be soaking, wet pussy. His eyes met yours from his knees, your legs trembling with anticipation, eyes locked as his pink tongue came to meet your pussy for the first time, a shuddering breath being released from you urged him on further.

His thick fingers spread your lips open, exposing your clit to his gentle assault. A building pleasure in your core as his tongue began to skillfully work, pulling moans from your mouth. How was he so good at this? Experimenting with different strokes, different pressure, finding what you like.

“Just like that, oh my god.” He rolled his tongue against your clit, eyes finding yours once more, keeping pace. You could see the corner of his mouth pull up in a smirk as he began to work you up to climax. “You’re such a fucking asshole, I hate that fucking smirk.” Head hitting back against the door as he used his fingers to tease your opening. “Oh my god.” Your hips bucked against his face, causing him to use the arm currently wrapped around your thigh to splay open on your abdomen, holding your hips still. The wet noises and soft grunts from the man between your thighs only caused you to grow closer to your release.

“You taste so fucking good baby,” moaned between your thighs.

“Don’t fucking stop.” You scolded. So close. So fucking close. He obeyed, continuing his assault on your dripping pussy, fingers entering your tight channel to stroke against your sensitive walls. He buried his face further into your pussy, nose coming to rest in the soft curls there as he watched you come undone. Your moans escalating in volume as you felt your body tighten with pleasure, hips begging to buck against his face as he rode you through it. He continued to lick and suck on your clit until your hands found his head, pushing him away, legs shaking as you dropped against the door, knees coming to rest around his body.

That fucking smirk, “How was that?” He asked, face glistening with your cum.

“Fuck you Ransom.” And he fucking laughed the bastard. What a fucking dick. He brought his face back to yours, gently claiming your lips. The tang of your pussy ever present as you felt him consume you. Your heart was still racing as he picked you up from the floor, bringing you into his bedroom and ever so gently laying you down on the sheets you had just changed two hours ago.

His eyes were shifting between yours, a strange expression on his face.

“You can’t kick me out tomorrow Ransom,” Your breathing was heavy as he began to work at your neck, his hands going to remove his gym shorts. “I can’t leave.” He pressed his lips back to yours as you felt him rub the tip of his dick against your clit, your body shaking with over-stimulation. It felt so intimate. Before, his eyes on yours as he brought you over with his tongue and now as he slowly enters you, stretching your walls with his thick cock, eyes not breaking contact he sighs,

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

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out #chris evans

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hookedonapirate · 4 years ago

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Book Update

If anyone is wondering when Hard To Handle will be coming out, I have some news! So, for those who don't know, Hard To Handle is an original A Helping Hand rewrite featuring Harper and Owen (Killian and Emma) and will be part 2 of the series. And if you haven't guessed yet, part 1 features Audrey and Brady (Elsa and Liam from A Helping Hand) with a Harper and Brady friendship. For those interested in their story, I have a little treat for you below. However, this Sneak peek doesn't show Audrey and Brady meeting yet because I haven't gotten that far.

This is sort of an enemies to lovers story (I say sort of because their "enemy" status in the beginning is too complicated to slap a label on it) that starts off with Harper and Audrey butting heads with their new neighbor, Brady, and him and Audrey exchanging love hate letters. 😉 Then Brady and Audrey form an alliance and break up Harper and Bryce. I promise it's not evil like it sounds because Brady discovers Bryce is cheating on Harper. Remember, Bryce is the Neal of AHH.

This book is a bit darker than book 2 because of the toxic nature of Harper's relationship with Bryce, and because Audrey often pays the price for his shenanigans, but there's still humor and fun in this one.

Anyway, here are the first few chapters. I may post more if anyone's interested ❤️

Chapter One

Brady

There are strange sounds coming from the unit next door.

Laughter maybe?

Yes, definitely laughter.

More like Cackling. From one—make that two—females.

Two loud, annoying females.

Just great.

I take pride in being a fairly simple man who doesn’t need much to be happy. A few things like fishing, enjoying an ice-cold beer and having a few moments of quiet time usually does the trick. Even the sound the can makes whenever I crack open the pull tab of Coors Light is music to my ears. I finally have time to relax after sweating my ass off from all the unpacking I did. I just moved in today and couldn’t stand the idea of tripping over boxes or searching through them every time I needed to use something. I was unable to stop unpacking until every single item in those boxes had a home.

Now I’m able to sit back in my patio chair, prop my feet up on the plastic stool and breathe in the pleasantly cool evening air, enjoy a refreshing, ice-cold beer and some quiet time.

Or at least I was able to until my air of tranquil serenity was so rudely disturbed by my cackling neighbors.

They could at least close their balcony doors, so the entire building doesn’t have to hear them.

I’m already in a foul mood, and the two laughing hyenas aren’t helping. If anything, my mood is worse than it was when I was packing.

They, however, sound like they’re having a grand old time. Doing what exactly, I’m not sure, but it sounds like one of them needed a break from studying and the other one is encouraging her to get drunk and let loose. Which means they’re college students.

Just fucking perfect.

This is exactly why I moved off campus, even though it meant paying rent and enduring a much longer commute to work.

It’s just my luck to get stuck living next to two loud teenagers or early twenty-something-year-olds. I’m around college students all the time, considering I’m an instructor; I don't need to live next to them, too. I learned that very quickly.

Young adults, my ass. More like impudent children.

I feel like the property management should’ve included that minor detail in the apartment listing. Or that not everyone is required to follow their uniform policies.

A peaceful, friendly community? Ha!

The management will definitely be hearing from me about their false advertising.

“Dude, I’m sorry to tell you this, Harp, but your boyfriend’s a fucking loser! Even Elisa said so!”

“He’s just misunderstood!”

“Misunderstood?! Bryce is such a creep!”

“Is not!”

I take a swig of my beer through gritted teeth. I really wish I had a TV right now.

It won’t be delivered until tomorrow, though. Which is very unfortunate and inconvenient at the moment because I need a distraction from reality. Listening to their conversation makes me furious and sad at the same time because it reminds me of me and my brother arguing about his girlfriend. I kept trying to tell Owen she was no good for him, but he wouldn’t listen. I bet this Bryce guy isn’t married, though.

Or maybe he is; I really don’t know.

I need something to take my mind off the overwhelming urge I feel to hop on a plane, fly to Chicago and kick my brother’s ass for being the fucking moron he is. And let me tell you, the urge is very strong right now. Earlier today, Owen told me the woman he’s been seeing is married. They’ve been dating for six months, during which she was lying to him the entire time. I already didn’t like her very much to begin with because she was a controlling bitch—I’m the only one who’s allowed to be a controlling bitch to my brother—and because ever since he started seeing her, I haven't been able to hang out with him very much. Whenever we made plans, he canceled them because Naomi wanted to spend time with him instead. And he was my best friend. Now he tells me she’s married and that he’s still staying with her.

What the actual fuck?

He’s so brainwashed by her, I couldn’t talk a lick sense into that goddamn head of his. Now he wants me to be okay with them staying together while she’s still with her husband?

Fuck that shit.

“Okay listen, if you’re going to talk shit about my boyfriend, we’re going to need more wine.”

“Agreed.”

It becomes silent next door for a few minutes, which makes me sigh in relief. Soon I hear, “Son of a fucking bitch!”

There’s a litany of curses and then, “We need a new corkscrew!”

“But we’re too drunk to drive anywhere!”

Damn, if only I had a corkscrew so they could drink more wine, get drunker and become even louder and more annoying than they already are.

That’s actually not a bad idea, though. If they’re anything like my ex-girlfriend, the quicker they get drunk, the quicker they’ll be ready to sleep. The quicker I’ll finally have my peace and quiet.

I contemplate driving down to the corner store, but what would I even say if I showed up at their door with a corkscrew they didn’t ask for? Oh, hi, I was eavesdropping on your conversation and took it upon myself to go to the store and buy you this corkscrew so you could both drink yourselves into an alcohol-induced coma and I could finally have some peace and quiet?

Nope, I definitely can’t say that.

Chapter Two

Audrey

“Son of a fucking bitch!”

When I rush into the kitchen to see why my roommate’s cussing up a storm, I’m expecting the counter and floor to be covered in wine and shattered glass, even though I didn’t hear any glass break, but Harper’s just holding the corkscrew and staring at the top of the bottle.

“What’s wrong?”

“We need a new corkscrew!” Harper grabs the bottle of wine and points the top of it at me. The cork is still jammed into the neck of the bottle, and the worm of the corkscrew is stuck inside it.

Which is very unfortunate.

She’s been studying her ass off, except for the occasional interruptions from her asshat of a boyfriend, Bryce. She had a really tough time getting him to finally leave so she could study, and she had to literally push him out the door. So I thought Harper could use a break and I could feel saner again by indulging in some wine. But one bottle of wine quickly turned into two. Or rather, it would’ve if not for the end of the corkscrew inside the cork.

Fuck.

“But we can’t drive anywhere,” I point out, considering how tipsy we both are, even though we only went through one bottle between us. But we’re both lightweights.

“Hold on,” she says, picking up her phone from the counter.

I cock my brow. “You do realize Amazon Prime takes two days to ship, right?”

“Yeah, I know, Aud. I’m not that drunk.” After looking at something on her phone for a minute, she leaves the kitchen, returns with one of her tennis shoes and sets the phone down to pick up the wine bottle. She places the bottom of the bottle inside the heel of the shoe, raises her hands above her head and goes to one of the walls in a striking pose.

I rush over and put my hand on her arm to stop her. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“This will push the cork out.”

“But won’t the wine spill all over?”

“Not if I can only push the cork part of the way out and then pull it off the rest of the way.” She hits the shoe against the wall a few times, but the cork doesn’t budge.

“Why don’t we see if any of the neighbors have a corkscrew,” I suggest. “This method doesn’t seem to be working.”

She sighs and drops her arms. “Who do you think would have one?”

“What about Mandy? She’s a wine drinker.”

Harper shakes her head. “She doesn’t get home from the office until late on Mondays. And there’s no way I’m trying mister grumpy pants across the hall. It always seems like he’ll snap at any moment. Plus, once his dog starts yapping, she never shuts up.”

“What about the new guy who just moved in next door?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. What if he’s an ax murderer?”

“I saw him earlier when he was moving in. He seems harmless enough, and is kind of cute, actually.”

“Yeah, well so was Ted Bundy. And I’d like to stay alive with my head intact, thank you very much.” I haven’t seen the new neighbor yet, but I don’t think going over to a stranger's place while we’re both a little tipsy is the best idea, for several reasons.

She flicks her hand. “Well, you don’t have to go. I will.” She grabs her keys, removes her pepper spray from the attached chain and throws her keys back on the counter before heading toward the door.

“Harp, wait…”

Ignoring my pleas as I follow behind her, she slips into her Nike slides. “I’ll be fine. I got my handy dandy pepper spray,” she says, holding it up.

Before I can talk some sense into her, she’s already dashing out the door and calling out over her shoulder, “If I’m not back in five minutes, call 911!”

I sigh and lean against the door, pressing my ear against it so I can listen for Harper’s screams or any signs of a struggle.

Chapter Three

Brady

When I head inside from the balcony, there’s a knock on the front door. I scratch my head and stride over to answer it, wondering who it could be. I just moved into this apartment today, so I literally don’t know any of my neighbors yet.

I open the door to a skinny blonde with green eyes, long, shimmering hair and soft pink lips. She’s easy on the eyes, but I have a feeling she’s one of the laughing hyenas next door. She’s not as young as I thought she’d be, though. She looks to be around my brother’s age. When I give her a once-over, I notice the pepper spray she’s trying to hide in her fist.

I wince at the sight of it. She doesn’t even have the safety lock on.

I offer a tight-lipped smile. “Hello.”

“HiI’myournextdoorneighbor,” she mumbles, her words slurred together. She’s a little tipsy and has to lean against the doorframe so she doesn’t fall over.

“How can I help you, next-door neighbor?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the pepper spray. The sight of it brings back too many painful memories. Memories I’d rather keep locked away.

“I was wondering if you had a corkscrew my roommate and I could borrow?”

On the balcony, I wanted to strangle the two neighbors who were interrupting my quiet time, but now I feel very protective. She’s obviously drunk, yet stumbling over to a neighbor she doesn’t even know. I mean, I like to consider myself an overall decent human being, or as I’ve been called before, “one of the good guys,” but this woman doesn’t know that. She knows nothing about me, yet she’s over here asking to borrow a corkscrew. And yes, she’s carrying a weapon, but I doubt she knows how to use it properly, and with how tipsy she is, I doubt she’d even be fast enough to use it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

Her smile fades, but she looks determined, so I’m hoping she doesn’t go knocking on all her neighbors' doors asking for a corkscrew.

“I could buy you one,” I offer, trying to sound as polite as possible. Which is difficult when I’m irritated.

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Really? You’d do that?”

I cross my arms and give her a stern look. “On one condition.”

She nods excitedly. “Of course, anything.”

I’m so glad I’m a nice guy because this woman seems far too trusting, and I’m afraid of what would’ve happened if I were anything less than a decent human being. “I’ll go and get you a corkscrew if you return to your apartment and keep the noise down for the rest of the night. And maybe close your balcony doors so the entire building can’t overhear your childish conversation.”

I’m thinking this is a very reasonable request. I’m willing to leave the comfort of my apartment to get in my car and go to the corner store to get some women I don’t know a corkscrew, and all they have to do is put a cap on the noise.

But the scowl on her face tells me she doesn’t agree. “First of all,” she raises her index finger, “ruu-uuuuuuude!” She raises another finger. “Secondly, my roommate and I aren’t children. We’re having a stressful week and were finally able to relax and drink some wine when the corkscrew broke. But that’s okay, we’ll figure out how to get the cork off ourselves!” She turns on her heels and starts to head toward her apartment, but spins around again and gets in my space, jabbing a finger at my chest. “And thirdly, we weren’t being that loud!”

I clench my jaw as she storms away and slams the door shut after disappearing inside her apartment. I throw my own door shut, huffing in frustration.

Why couldn’t my neighbors all be sweet old ladies?

So much for having a relaxing evening!

I head back to my balcony when there’s another knock on the door.

“Son of bitch,” I curse under my breath as I march over to the door and yank it open. “What, now?” I ask angrily when I see her standing at my door again.

“I need to borrow a dress shoe.”

I furrow my brows, growing more agitated. “A what?”

She sighs as though I’m the one inconveniencing her. “A dress shoe,” she says impatiently. “Surely you’ve been to a wedding or funeral. You must have one.”

“I do, but why do you—” Before I get the chance to answer, she shoves past me and heads toward my bedroom.

I follow her in there and cross my arms over my chest in the doorway as I watch her go to my closet. “What in the ever-loving hell are you doing?”

“I told you, I need to borrow a dress shoe.”

Seriously?!

The audacity of this woman waltzing into my apartment and taking one of my shoes! “That’s funny because I never said you could borrow one.”

“Wow, your closet is super organized,” she comments as she looks around, easily finding one of my brown dress shoes and grabbing it from the shoe rack.

I’m still standing in the bedroom doorway when she tries to get through. I reach for my shoe, but she steps back and aims her pepper spray at me. I instinctively duck out of the line of fire and lunge forward, grabbing the pepper spray from her hand and twisting the safety lock.

“Wait, please don’t kill me! My roommate’s calling 911 if I’m not back in two minutes!” she cries, shielding herself with her hands.

I sigh in exasperation and extend the pepper spray to her. “I’m not trying to murder you, I was trying to get my shoe back.”

She slowly drops her arms and narrows her eyes as she snatches the spray from my hand. “Then why did you take away my weapon?”

I scoff. “It was a reflex so I didn’t get sprayed in the face since I wasn’t actually attacking you. Do you know how many times I’ve been pepper-sprayed in the face?”

“Why, because you’re a rapist?!” she accuses, stepping away from me and aiming her pepper spray at me again, even though the safety is still on. She probably doesn’t even know that, though.

I sigh in exasperation and raise my hands in surrender. “No, because I was in the Marines. Getting pepper-sprayed was part of my training. It taught me how to use my weapons and equipment.”

She lowers the spray, guilt etched in her features. “Oh, sorry. My roommate said you might be another Ted Bundy, and I don’t want to be raped and murdered.”

“Yeah, because breaking into your neighbor’s apartment and stealing their shoe is a good way to prevent that from happening,” I say, my words laden with sarcasm.

“Well, no, but that’s what the pepper spray was for.”

“It won’t do you any good if you don’t use it properly. You need to have a firm grip and use your thumb to activate it so it can’t be taken out of your hand like I just took it out of yours.”

“Thanks for the tip.” She raises the pepper spray at me again and presses the button to activate it. But it’s still disarmed. Once she realizes her mistake, her eyes widen.

I cock my head to the side and plant my hands on my hips. “Really?”

She offers an apologetic smile, then scurries toward me, ducks under my arm and squeezes past me, darting for the front door. “I’ll bring it right back, I promise!”

I let her go and exhale another deep sigh. What could she possibly need my shoe for anyway? To squash a spider or something? Can’t she use her own Goddamn shoe for that?

Right, she probably doesn’t want to get her precious shoe all gross, so she’s using mine instead. Which means my shoe will be returned with spider guts on the bottom.

Just great.

I go to the balcony and curtly grab my beer so I can head inside and not have to hear every goddamn word of their conversation again.

Pound, pound, pound.

What the hell?

It sounds like they’re banging something against the wall.

My shoe, perhaps?

Pound, pound, pound.

Then I hear a loud pop!

“Yessssss!”

They got the cork out.

“Holy shit, you made a mess!”

“Sorry, but at least we can keep drinking!”

“Woohoo!”

I head inside and close the sliding doors, hoping to go to bed and get some rest. But then there’s another knock on the front door.

“Fucking hell,” I groan as I go over to answer it. It’s probably the blonde neighbor with my shoe, but I’m not sure I want it back.

Sure enough, it’s her.

“Thanks for letting me borrow it.” She hands over my shoe with a small smile and heads back to her apartment.

“You didn’t borrow it, you stole it!” I call after her. But she completely ignores me.

“And sorry I tried to spray you...twice!” Before I can respond, she’s already inside her unit.

I bring the shoe to my nose to get a closer whiff of it. I noticed the smell as soon as she handed it to me. “Hey, why does my shoe smell like wine?!”

But I’m talking to the door at this point.

I shake my head and go back inside, trying to decide if I should try to get the smell out or just toss the pair into the trash. For now, I set it aside and go to the bathroom to get ready for bed, hoping my neighbors will down the bottle, get tired and pass out so I can have a quiet evening.

No such luck.

They turn on the music, and I can hear the pounding bass through the wall and also, “Yeeeeesssss, this is my jam!”

The walls are actually shaking.

Why do the other neighbors put up with this! It’s absurd, really.

They should be evicted.

I contemplate calling the police to make a complaint, but this is New York City; the police have better things to do than respond to non-emergency noise complaints. So I return to my bedroom, strip down to my boxers and toss my clothes into the hamper before slipping into bed. I can still hear the noises coming from the unit next door, but thankfully, I’m a patient man. I’m sure they’ll get tired soon and go to bed. Or at least I hope so.

But an hour passes, and the music still doesn’t cease. I groan and roll over on my stomach, pulling the pillow over my head, wishing I had noise-canceling headphones right now. I’m normally against the idea of something that cancels all sounds, because it also cancels sounds that alert danger. Like if a burglar broke into the apartment or there’s an explosion or gunshot. But right now, I’d do anything to get a good night’s sleep. Between arguing with my brother over the phone into the wee hours of the night yesterday and spending all day moving into my new place and unpacking, I’m completely exhausted. Not to mention I always start my day at five in the morning. My classes don’t start until eight a.m., but I like to get an early start to my day. I got up that early when I was in the Marines, and some habits just never die.

I’m about to get up and go down the hall to ask them to turn down the noise, but I’ve already asked her once and she got offended, so I doubt it will do any good.

Chapter Four

Audrey

I’m immediately regretting the two bottles of Barefoot Harper and imbibed last night. My head is pounding, I’m dehydrated, and I have to be at work in an hour. I take some aspirin, drink a full glass of water before jumping into the shower.

When I leave my bedroom, dressed and ready to go, Harper is shuffling out of her room.

“Morning,” she says groggily, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

“Morning, Harp.” I head to the kitchen to make her some coffee. I’m not a coffee drinker myself, I prefer tea, but I know Harper can’t function in the morning without a fresh cup of hot Folgers.

“Why did we drink on a weeknight again?” she groans, taking a seat at the table.

“That’s an excellent question.” I pour water into the pot and place it in the coffeemaker, turning it on.

Harper buries her face in the cradle of her arms on the table as I grab some aspirin and a tall glass, filling it with water. She doesn’t have to work today, but she does have classes. She’s already a registered nurse like me, but she’s going for her master’s degree to open up more job opportunities. And also because she’s an overachiever, when it comes to her career at least. I just wish she were an overachiever when it came to other aspects of her life, like the kind of men she dates. Or maybe Harper was purposefully aiming for Class-A levels of douchebaggery when she started dating Bryce. If that’s the case, then she definitely went above and beyond expectations. And while she is my best friend and roommate, there’s only so much sense I can talk into her. And I'm not willing to let some lowlife scumbag get in between our friendship.

“Here, these will help.”

Harper lifts her head and takes the aspirin and glass. When she pops the pills in her mouth, swallowing them down with a big gulp of water, she already appears to be more human again.

I grab my keys and strap my purse over my shoulder, heading toward the front door.

“Speaking of drinking, are you going to be here Friday night?”

I snort-laugh and turn to look at her, placing my free hand on my hip, knowing exactly where this is going. She’s still recovering from her hangover and already has booze on the brain. “That depends. Is Bryce going to be here?”

When she takes a slow sip of her water, I know what her answer is before she says it out loud. “Well, considering he’s the one who invited a few people over, yes, he’ll be here.”

“Then no, I definitely won’t.” I head for the door, trying to leave again.

“That’s a shame because Bryce has a good-looking friend who thinks you’re gorgeous.”

I spin around, cocking a brow. “Which friend?”

“Treyton. You haven’t met him before, but he saw your pics on Instagram.”

I walk to the table, placing my hands on top of the chair, my key ring dangling from my finger. “How did he find my Instagram account if we’ve never met?”

“Bryce showed it to him.”

What the fuck?

I furrow my brows in confusion. “Okay, why is Bryce showing his friends my Instagram account?”

She smirks. “Because Treyton was asking him if I had any cute, single friends.”

I sigh, not liking the idea of Bryce trying to set his friends up with me. I’ve met some of his guy friends, and neither is one I’d kiss if he were the last man on earth. “Sorry, not interested.”

I remove my hand from the chair and try to leave again.

“Oh, come on, Aud. Give the guy a chance. I mean, I don’t know him that well, but he’s fucking hot.” She picks up her phone from the table and pulls up something before handing it to me across the table. “See for yourself.”

I reluctantly take the device, a heavy sigh leaving my lips. I highly doubt his looks will sway me. Even if is hot, he’s still Bryce’s—

Holy crap.

He’s got those smokey grey eyes, a chiseled jaw and a little smirk on his beautiful face that makes me melt.

Well, fuck.

“So, what do you think?” Harper asks curiously, trying to stifle a smirk as she perches her chin on the back of her joined hands, her elbows resting on the table.

I try not to show how attracted I am to a freaking photo of a guy I’ve never met before, but damn, those eyes are spellbinding, and I’m pretty sure I’m blushing. “Okay, he’s a little cute.”

“A little? Honey, you and I have similar tastes in men, so I know you don’t think he’s just cute.”

“Yeah, that’s true. We usually do, which is why I have no idea how Bryce got your attention. He must have a big dick or something.” I narrow my eyes. “Does he have a big dick? Because that would explain a lot.”

Harper bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, Aud, you know it’s not all about the size! And no, he doesn’t, he’s average, but as much as you hate him, you can’t deny he’s good-looking.”

“Yes, maybe on the outside he’s cute but personality-wise he’s ugly as fuck.”

She sighs in defeat as I hand over her phone. This is just an argument neither of us will ever be able to agree on. Well, until she finally decides to take off those damn rose-colored glasses and sees Bryce as he truly is. But I know it would make Harper happy if I agreed to stay for the party. I know that sometimes she feels out of place considering most of Bryce’s friends are college kids. Normally, she’s the oldest one there, but you could never tell, because she has a baby face and looks at least five years younger than she actually is, so to the other college kids, she's one of them.

“Fine, I’ll be here for the party.”

Harper’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, but if any of his friends grab my ass, I’m leaving.”

She laughs. “Okay.”

The coffee machine beeps, so she gets up from her seat, grabs a mug and creamer and pours the steaming, hot liquid into her cup. She returns to her seat and sips her coffee as I once again try to leave. “Thanks for starting the coffee, Aud.”

“No problem. See you tonight.” I unlock the door, and when I pull it open, I notice a folded up crisp piece of copy paper taped to the outside. I cock my brow and peel it off, unfolding it. I’m expecting it to be from the building management.

But then I read the first line...

To the two hoity-toity princesses,

I immediately suspect it’s from mister grumpy pants across the hall, but the letter is in fancy cursive writing. Who even writes in cursive anymore? Maybe an old lady or mister grumpy pants, I suppose. But he normally doesn’t leave letters. He’ll just knock on the door with his cane and chew us out in person. Harper said the first time he knocked on her door to complain about the noise, he made her cry.

When he tries that shit with me, I give it right back to him and threaten to call the cops on his dog and have her taken to the pound. He tends to leave us alone now. So, I’m surprised he’s resorted to leaving us notes.

Can you kindly tone down your loud music and obnoxious woohooing, laughter and overall commotion that kept me up until 2 a.m.? Some people actually have to work on a Tuesday morning. I, myself, wake at 5 a.m. every single day and am now forced to go to work on three hours of sleep. Luckily the students I teach possess much more class and are at maturity levels you both obviously could never achieve if you actually tried. I know neither of you could possibly understand waking up early for a job or getting your hands dirty, as you’re city girls who probably live on mommy and daddy’s income and never worked a day in your lives, but some people actually have responsibilities and obligations, not just classes they can skip whenever they feel like it. So have a little respect and lower the volume a few notches.

This time you get a warning, but if the noise persists, I will be forced to contact law enforcement. Have a lovely day drinking your Starbucks lattes and trying to get rid of what I hope are nasty hangovers.

Sincerely,

The tired and cranky guy from 8C, thanks to his loud, annoying neighbors

P.S. The blonde who took my brown dress shoe owes me a new pair seeing as it now reeks of Pinot Grigio, thank you very much.

My nostrils flare before I even finish reading the letter. The audacity of this asshole! He doesn’t even know us, hell he hasn’t even met me in person, yet he makes all kinds of false assumptions about us.

I know neither of you could possibly understand waking up early for a job or getting your hands dirty.

What the actual fuck?! Harper and I both wake up at the crack of dawn to go to work at the hospital, and we’re constantly on our feet for at least twelve hours. We only work three days a week, but our jobs are emotionally and physically draining; I mostly use the other four days to sleep, recover, clean the apartment and run errands. So, for someone to say we don’t work or ever get our hands dirty is a blow to the gut. We’re nurses for crying out loud! Getting our hands dirty is part of the job!

Another remark of his that irks me: We’re city girls who probably live on mommy and daddy’s income. My parents would actually laugh out loud if they read this comment. They always tell me how independent I am. Hell, I wouldn’t even allow them to pay for my schooling even though they wanted to; I wanted to do it all on my own, so I had two jobs while I went to college. They also weren’t too happy when I took a job in New York, but they told me if anyone could handle herself in a big city, it was me. Not to mention, Harper had it way worse than me, growing up.

But the fact that this douchebag is so ridiculously wrong about us makes me smile a little. It will feel so goddamn good to make him see the error of his ways.

I’m still carrying the letter with me as I go to my bedroom closet and grab my stationary from the top shelf. I take out a sheet of paper and a pen from the box, replace it on the shelf and return to the kitchen. I hate the idea of using my good paper on this asshole, but if I’m going to stoop to his level and leave a note on his door, I might as well do it with class.

“What’s the note about?” Harper asks with furrowed brows. “I paid the rent just in the nick of time.”

“It’s not from management.” I take the pen and paper to the table and start writing out a letter. “It’s from our friendly neighbor in 8C,” I say sarcastically.

Her eyes widen as she reaches for the letter. “What did he say?”

I look up and hand it to her.

When she reads it over, the sleepiness in her eyes morphs into anger. “What the hell?! Who does he think he is? He doesn’t even know us!”

“Exactly.” I look down again at the paper and continue the sentence I was working on.

I can feel her staring at me as I write. “What are you doing?”

“Replying to him,” I say without taking my eyes off the page.

“What, are we in elementary school?”

“According to him, we are.”

“He’s just a douchebag, you can’t take anything he says seriously.”

I almost laugh. Normally she’s the one wanting revenge when someone wrongs her, and I’m the one having to talk her out of it. “Maybe, but this will teach him not to make assumptions about people.”

After I’m finished, I let her read it before I tape it to his door. I head to work with a smile on my face. This should teach him not to be such a dickhead.

Chapter Five

Brady

Dear self-righteous butthole in 8C,

~~~

Stay tuned for more...

If you would like to be tagged or untagged, please let me know

@onceuponaprincessworld @teamhook @artistic-writer@ilovemesomekillianjones @hollyethecurious @gingerchangeling@ultraluckycatnd @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @snowbellewells @let-it-raines @wellhellotragic @itsfabianadocarmo @lfh1226-linda @sophiaaz @becausetheyrehappythisway @thislassishooked @hookedmom @resident-of-storybrooke @kateroselin @chamomileandmint @kday426 @sals86 @lawgeeks @yasbio2015 @xsajx @delightfully-difficult-pirate @wanderingjpg @squidvisious @tenaciouskittynight @biefaless @animatedshorts @lassluna @ejunkiet @melsbels @meat-pie-with-sauce @roseyflush @ivalane @tiganasummertree @nowforruin @qualitycoffeethings @nikkiemms @oncechicagolove @theonewiththeory @lostinwonderland314 @darkcolinodonorgasm @arshini01 @companion-mala @carpedzem @youareafeverdream @maguilar1028 @mayquita @courtorderedcake @shady-swan-jones @timeless-love-story @laschatzi @officerrogers @spartanguard @andiirivera @ouatpost @jarienn972 @winterbythesea @winterbaby89 @distant-rose @xhookswenchx

#my book #sneak peek #self-promotion #hannah writs

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alj4890 · 4 years ago

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Six Sentence Sunday

I'm behind on so much due to life in general, LOL. But to show that I am working on things here is a sneak peek into the next parts of Delicate (which this should be the last chapter of this short series), And Then I Left You, and a few drabbles I have in my WIP folder.

tagging a few that might be interested�� @jooous @krsnlove @nomadics-stuff @twinkleallnight @motorcitymademadame @gkittylove99 @darley1101 @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles t @lodberg @my-heart-beats-for-ya @aworldoffandoms @flyawayboo @trappedinfanfiction @everythingmarvelsherlockspn @sophxwithers @esmckenzie

Delicate

This might be the first ball in the history of Drake's years in Cordonia to actually cause a certain excitement. He usually put up with the pomp and traditions to simply be with those he cared about. For years it was to support Liam, then going meant he could hang out with Riley, Hana, and Maxwell.

And then there were his activities in secret for a year with Olivia.

He knew she would be arriving soon. Her absence from Cordonia had been one he felt more acutely than any other. His failure in telling her how he felt about her, his inability to have a civil conversation, even his voicemail had kept him fixated on this date.

He intended for this new year to involve a new relationship with Olivia. He simply needed to find a moment alone with her.

Which as he entered the drawing room Riley and Liam used frequently for their closest friends, he realized that was going to be more difficult than he originally thought. All their friends had come home for the ball.

"I can't believe they gave us that ridiculous moniker." Thomas shook his head.

"The press isn't always known for their intelligence." Liam said, fighting a smile.

"Thomanda." Amanda laughed just saying it. "It sounds like some weird foot fungus cream."

"The press have had five years to come up with anything better than that." Thomas wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders. "They should have combined our last names. Brunt is more tolerable than Thomanda."

Maxwell rolled off the couch laughing. "We now have to come up with crazy couple names for all of us!"

"We were given Riam." Riley replied. "Personally I prefer Liley, but Riam stuck."

"Naxwell or Madia." Amanda said between giggles while pointing at Maxwell and Nadia. "That's your possible couple's name."

"Naxwell sounds like a snack cake or cookie." Riley added with a chuckle.

"We are sweet." Maxwell responded, cuddling Nadia close.

Hana sighed at seeing them all so happy together. "What would mine and Rashad's be?"

"Rashana?" Riley offered.

"Oh I like that so much better than what I thought." Amanda laughed. "I at first thought Hahad."

The group burst into laughter while more couple names were bandied about.

"So what do we dub Olivia and Ethan?" Liam asked.

"Ethalivia?" Hana offered.

"Olithan?" Maxwell added.

"Oooh! Olithan!" Riley exclaimed. "Sounds like a sea monster. Olivia will love it!"

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

And Then I Left You

Thomas had worried that first day how they would handle the hotel situations he believed they were bound to encounter. He had gotten used to Olivia's secret passageways allowing him to see Amanda whenever he wanted.

He should have known that the intelligent lady he adored had already solved that problem.

Pulling onto a gravel road, she drove him toward a cottage that sat alone in a rolling meadow dotted here and there with trees. The two-story, thatched roof building sat amidst large Cordonian oak trees. Roses twined around a drain pipe while wisteria grew in wild abandon adding even more beauty to the rough stone walls.

"I know we could stay somewhere different with each place we visit," Amanda explained. "But then I thought we could stay our entire time somewhere in the middle of it all. It will mean more driving each day, but we will have nothing but privacy here."

Thomas stepped out and followed her inside. The cottage was just as charming on the inside as it was on the outside. Much of the furniture was designed strictly for comfort and a few for whimsy. The wooden floors creaked with each step as he explored the different rooms.

Upstairs, there were two bedrooms directly across from one another with a bathroom dividing them.

His lips curved at knowing he wouldn't have to find a way to sneak around and see her whenever they weren't out in public.

"What do you think?" She asked, a bit nervous from his silence.

"It's charming." He set his arms around her waist. "And perfect for our needs."

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

This next sneak peek is a second part to the Liam angst I posted earlier 😬 So sorry how dark that went. Since many wanted to see how Liam is after losing Riley, Drake and Maxwell, here is some of how it is going for him. Let’s just say it isn’t easy and will take some special persuasion from those left behind to help him.

Liam ignored all of it. He went to his chambers and remained secluded from the world for days. He refused entry to anyone who knocked. He simply sat there staring at the few mementos he had of those he had lost.

He flipped through the photographs Maxwell had insisted on taking of the three of them through the years. He paused at the few his mother was in, wishing she was here now to tell him how to move on from something like this. She had encouraged his friendships with Maxwell and Drake, knowing he would need them to face life in the public eye.

And now he would never have them again.

Setting the old album aside, he reached for the key chain Riley had given him the night of the Coronation. Thinking of that night and their confessions of love only to be cruelly parted...his head dropped as he carefully set it back on the table. Next he picked up the pearl he had given her. The plans and hopes they had while meeting in secret. It had helped him through every moment he was kept from her side.

He then lifted the photograph Anna had taken of them for their engagement. Liam's fingers trembled as they brushed against the image of Riley. Her smile so warm. Her eyes so filled with joy.

Reaching for a decanter, he attempted to metaphorically drown his sorrows. In one night he had lost everything he had held dear. How was he to go on from this? There was no enemy to slay, no way to find those he loved and rescue them. Nothing. Nothing except funerals to attend. Nothing but giving them to the cold, unforgiving dirt.

All he had ahead of him was visits to graveyards. He knew his father didn't have much longer to live. It would be just one more loss in his already devastated heart.

Death was what his life had become. He had feared that when his mother was poisoned. Many a night he would wake up crying at the thought of being completely and utterly alone. This long forgotten fear rose up within him, showing that it hadn't been a mere nightmare. It had been a premonition.

Dropping his head in his hands, he sobbed into the void that had become his only companion.

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

This next peek is a miniseries idea that will be called, Mixed Signals, that hit after that last Open Heart Chapter. It will focus on my MC Chris getting closer to Tobias (and gah, I am wishing now she could dump all the LI's and be with him. His humor and confidence have won me completely over). It will take place in both books 2 and 3 and focus on her frustration with Ethan and Bryce never committing or saying how they truly feel about her. Since, especially in the chapters before the Hawaii trip, they both would randomly act romantic towards her then friend zone her in the next scene, I'm letting this series show her choosing to step back and see what she wants and needs from a significant other. This begins after the attack and Chris has yet to return to work. She goes to Mass Kenmore to thank Tobias for coming to help find a cure for her and ends up opening up to him a bit.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tobias asked softly, gently squeezing her close.

"Not really." Chris admitted. "Everyone keeps telling me to give myself time and all." She eased back. "I wish they would leave me alone."

He kept his hands on her waist while studying her. "Then tell them."

"Ha. You've met them." She snorted. "They don't take orders like that well."

"True." He replied. "You want me to do it?" His smirk brought a grin to her face. "Ethan already considers me a pain in his ass. What's one more mark against me?"

She laughed, while dabbing at her eyes and nose. "After what you did for me? No way am I letting you continue to be the bad guy."

"Aww shucks, Valentine." Tobias teased. "You're going to give me a big head."

"As if it wasn't already big enough." She teased back. Tilting her head, she pretended to study him. "How do you lift it?"

"I work out." He winked then stood up. "I'm glad you came by."

"Me too." She held her hand out.

He shook his head. "You already hugged me. I figure that could be our thing."

"Our thing?"

Tobias pulled her back into his embrace.

"Yeah." He hugged her close. "Now that you won't let me be the big bad guy, I think this means you want us to be friends."

"Whoa. I'm merely a girl coming to thank a guy for saving her life." She teased. "Don't be thinking this means more than that."

"Sorry. Thought is already there." He countered, letting her go. "You're stuck with me now Chris whether you like it or not."

"Ugh, fine." She playfully grumbled. "I already deal with so many ego maniacs. What's one more?"

He opened his office door for her. "I knew you would agree."

"Just because you won this round doesn't mean you'll win them all, Dr. Carrick." Chris warned.

"Allow me to let you in on a little secret, Dr. Valentine," he leaned down close to whisper. "I win all the rounds that are important to me." Swiping up the folder he had previously been studying, he saluted her. "See you soon."

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

And finally another miniseries "What if" for Thomas Hunt and my OC. I've been inspired by rewriting And Then I Met You and decided to do the same with their story in Second Chances. Here's a peek of Amanda actually telling Thomas she is pregnant instead of storming out of his office. I've yet to come up with a title I like for it, LOL, so we'll just wait on that.

Amanda ignored the words Thomas was saying. She didn't want to hear that he had fallen for an actress. All she could focus on was her pain turning into fury. How could he have moved on so quickly?

She wanted to hit him. Never in her life had she ever wanted to hurt someone so much as she did Thomas.

She felt sick to her stomach thinking about him and Kara. The nausea reminded her that she couldn't give in to her desire. She had someone else to think of. Someone who deserved every sacrifice she knew she would have to make to keep Thomas in their child's life.

"...and that's why I am sending Kara flowers." Thomas stepped closer to her when he noticed how pale she was. "Amanda?"

Her eyes lifted to his. Taking a deep breath, she blurted out the reason she came to his office.

"I'm pregnant."

She watched as her words slowly registered. The shock of her announcement caused him to collapse in the chair she had been sitting in.

"Pregnant." He breathed. "Are you certain?"

"Yes." Amanda clasped her hands in front of her. "I wouldn't have come here if I had not had it confirmed by a doctor."

Thomas knew she wouldn't have darkened his door for anything. If there was one characteristic they shared, it was pride. Neither ever wanted to appear foolish.

He got up and took a step toward her, uncertain how he was supposed to react. "What do you intend to do?"

Tears sparked her eyes. "Well, I am going to keep the baby and I hoped..." She bit her lip while lowering her eyes. Seems he had no intention to get back together with her. "I hope you will want to be a part of our child's life."

Thomas reached for her hand. Just because he wasn't sure whether or not to try a romantic relationship with her again, it didn't mean that he didn't want to be there for her.

"I will." He promised.

Her head jerked up and she noticed that there was no condemnation towards her reflected in his expression. Though the surprise announcement had knocked him for a loop, he was at least trying to do the right thing.

Though she had hoped to hear that he wanted to try again, she was vastly relieved to hear his promise.

"Are you planning on staying in L.A. for a while?" He asked.

"I could stay a few days." She wiped her tears with her fingers. A nervous laugh escaped her. "I wasn't sure if you would want me to after I told you about the baby."

"I would like to discuss how we will work this out." He squeezed her hand before urging her to sit down. "I have some meetings that I don't think I'll be able to get out of, but how about dinner tonight at my home?"

"I don't want to interrupt your date." She struggled with the word. "I can--"

"I'm not dating anyone." Thomas explained. "That's why I told you the flowers were more of a professional courtesy than romantic in nature."

"So you and Kara Bennett?" Amanda felt a brief spark of hope. "You're not--"

"No. She's one of the actresses on an upcoming film I'm directing." He replied.

"I see." She mumbled.

"Does 7:30 sound good?" He asked.

"Yes, of course."

"Should I pick you up?" He remembered she was staying at a hotel.

"No, I'll call for a car." She got to her feet again and held her hand out. "I know you have work and a lot to think over." Her lips curved into a sad smile. "But thank you for meeting with me and hearing me out."

He came around his desk and pulled her into a hug. Realizing how hard it was for her to come here, touched something within his heart. She seemed so fragile that he felt the need to comfort her.

Hugging her was the safest way in his opinion.

She trembled in his arms before returning his hug. Struggling with her tears, she laughed.

"Forgive me. I haven't had control of my emotions these last few months. These pregnancy hormones have a mind of their own."

Thomas handed her some tissues. "No need to apologize."

She thanked him as she dabbed under her eyes. "If I'm not crying then I am losing my temper. Poor Maxwell. I practically jumped down his throat for drinking the last Sprite on the way here."

His eyebrows lifted. "Maxwell came with you?"

"Everyone came with me." She shook her head in exasperation. "They were worried that you--" she winced. "They came to support me."

"I see." He replied. Reaching out, he gently grasped her arm. "I hate to rush you, but--"

"Of course." She gathered her things. "I'll see you this evening."

He smiled at her. "I look forward to it."

#six sentence sunday #delicate #and then i left you #olivia nevarkis #dr. ethan ramsey #tobias carrick #thomas hunt #king liam #choices open heart #choices the royal romance #choices red carpet diaries #choices crackship #a second chance #what if #long post

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yoursinfulurges · 4 years ago

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Toxin and Venom

Slight Dark!Peter Parker x Dark!Reader

Description:

In which a seemingly loving relationship appears greater than it is...

There was something rather terrible about this young man's naive exterior. Though nobody could pinpoint where exactly the dreadfulness laid. His eyes shined a little too brightly, and his words were coated in thick sugar, enough to appear disingenuous to the skillfully trained ears. But there hidden behind is smile concealed the sinister morals of a true manipulator.

Oh' but she was no better herself, twisting words to favour her narrative. Playing as if she was nothing more than a meek little prey.

Warnings: pure angst with an underlining layer of toxicity.

Disclaimer: This is a REWRITE of one of my old stories dated back to a year ago, so if it sounds familiar that is why. This story was originally written for Jung Jaehyun from NCT but seeing as though I've fallen out of love with kpop at the moment, I wanted to repurpose it for my new followers that I've harbored since The Venom Within, as I'm very proud of the way it was written and concluded that I wanted to share with you all. I did improve and change quite a lot so you won't be reading the exact same story and I decided to add a twist to it.

Note: This is more so a college au so the fact that Peter is Spiderman is insignificant...

Word Count: 4.k

_____________

Your boyfriend, Peter, had always been the most kind and caring person you knew. Ever since you met him, and even after months of dating, he still acted like the bashful, kind Disney prince you took him for. Only treating you with nothing but respect and admiration; you often wondered if this boy was even capable of making an insult, or had a bad bone in his body. Fore he acts way too nice and sweet for his own good. Controlling at times but it was with all good intentions...

Originally, you thought the kind gestures and lovely sweet talking was his way of subtly flirting, but after years of dating him, you came to the realization that it was just simply him. Peter didn't need to pretend to be kind and sweet like other guys; given that it was like second nature for him. You loved the boy to death. He showered you with so much love, spoiled you with affection. Treated you like his queen; His shining jewel. Out of the two years that you'd been together, not once has he wronged you.

That is, up until this exact moment...

You stand there in the middle of the kitchen, tears streaming down your cheeks. At this point you had stopped listening to what he was saying. In fear that if you continued to listen to his harsh words, more of your love would begin to fleet away, and you couldn't afford to lose any more. Despite of all your excessive yelling, you loved Peter. And he meant so much to you. But seeing him in this state, angry and hostile, attacking you viciously with his words, you began to question your future with him.

You couldn't quite fathom what brought on this newfound aggression in your relationship. Though, you had a slight seeking suspicion that it was from all the post-exam stress you both had to endure. Weeks upon weeks of studying and sleepless nights finally took its toll on the both of you. Thus bringing you to this exact moment in time. The once loving home corrupted by the harsh spoken words that fell from both of your lips. Anger and aggression filling the room, space welcoming the negativity with open arms. You had both tainted it...

That was not the boy you fell in love with, but instead somebody meaner, a-kind to venom...

Then again, you weren't a saint yourself either, words you wouldn't have ever thought of saying spilled out of your mouth like toxin. You needed to do something fast to mend your relationship back together...

The mere thought of breaking up with the man hurts you so dearly. You just wanted your loving boyfriend back from what ever abyss he dissapeared off to. Typically your fights never lasted this long, but this one proved to be quite challenging. You just wanted him to stop yelling. But in fear of the unthinkable outcome of your protest, you kept shut and held onto the remaining pieces of your heart. You knew for a fact that Peter would never dear to lay a hand on you, so you tried very desperately to push those thoughts aside. However, his following statements made both tasks very difficult. It was as if he was challenging your composure. Like he wanted the flood gates broken.

Like he wanted you to cave in to the malicious voice whispering in your ear...

His words could've very well be from all the stress, ..or pent up insults and remarks that he'd been silently keeping in. You had no way of telling. You prayed and hoped that it was the first one rather than the assuming latter. Because maybe then, you would consider forgiving him. Even though the words punctured you like bullets, penetrating your inner layers and hurting you in more ways than one. This was not your Peter... You questioned the morals behind his words, were they intended to hurt you, or was it just in the heat of the moment. Regardless, you knew that his words would be something that lingered on forever in your head.

"I don't even know why I stayed this long with you, honestly! What do I even see in you! Stop being so unreasonable! You're easily replaceable, so i don't see why you're acting so high and mighty. News flash y/n, i could do a lot better!"

And there it was...

His current state and demeanor rivalled that of which the one you used to know. The soft spoken, kind, sweet, shy Peter. The one that still plays with legos despite being nineteen years old. You'd give anything to have him back...

You always knew that Peter could do better, but hearing this from him was a lot different than you saying it to yourself in your head. Before you had started dating you knew he had a chance with Michelle. She was a very pretty girl that went to your university, she was also Peter's chem partner... Michelle was nice, smart, and talented. You were very aware of the little 'thing' they had going on. So to your surprise, when you heard rumors of a certain Peter Parker, looking to ask you out, you almost didn't believe. Hell, you laughed straight into Brad's face and told him he was delusional. If only a hesitant, blush faced Peter wasn't stood right behind you to prove you wrong.

Ever since that day, you questioned Peter's choice. Why did he choose you, when he could've had a chance with Michelle? Someone he was more compatible with... You figured that he saw something special in you that nobody else did. Though, his previous statement proves you wrong and tells you that he doesn't even know why he gave you a chance. You're at a drift, not knowing where this relationship is headed, or where to stand. Knowing that you were replaceable to Peter weakens you. Were you really that insignificant to him? Were you a chore to be around? If so then why did he stay for two years? All these questions ran through your mind as you're frozen in a state of shock. How do you follow such a thing?

You stand silently, wails threatening to break free from your lips, as you shake. Instantly covering your mouth with your palm. You watch as he screamed at you more, words blocked out by the ringing in your ears. Truthfully, you were glad you couldn't hear his words, not knowing how to reciprocate to any more of his personal attacks.

The familiar feeling of despair began to conjure in the pit of your stomach. The tightness in your chest began to focus on your beating heart, constricting you like a boa preying on its meal. Everything around you became a hazy blur as the non stop ringing became more prominent. The cause being your angry boyfriend and his heart-wrenching words. Jolts of anxiety began to climb up from your figure tips, like a thousand spiders crawling on your skin. A feeling you know all too well crept up from behind you. You were beginning to feel frantic and scared, as your breathing became unstable.

You were becoming erratic, desperate to end the fight and be in his arms again.

"What!? Huh, not gonna clap back with some snarky remark. Admit it, you know im right!"

Peter's face was a striking shade of scarlet while he paced back and forth, hands finding themselves tangled in his hair as he mumbled inaudible words. His hair, you remember running your hands through his curly, brown locks this morning when you woke up. Oh, how happy and blissful you both were twelve hours prior to this moment. You both were so content and hopeful with the prospect of your relationship. Being able to finally spend time with each other after a stressful week. Originally, you had planned a date night with Peter. But things began to make a turn for the worse when he began to insult every little thing you did. Now here you were, an hour and forty-five minutes late for your reservations.

A taste for bitterness began to fill your mouth, as your insides churned. Waves of sadness and despair hit you like a tsunami. You suddenly couldn't stand the thought of staying in the same room as Peter. Let alone sleeping in one. Fore his words had impacted you like an arrow through the heart. You felt sick, disgusted, vulnerable, and above all else, hurt.

"God, you're such a fucking bitch sometimes!" Peter spat, but soon after stopped, noticing your sudden change in demeanor. Your once, fuming and aggressive facade was replaced with a much more subdued, fragile, hurt exterior, mirroring how you felt inside. You had given up. The bandage that held your heart together snapped.

You looked up at him, hurt written all over your face. Instantly, Peter rushed your way. He wanted to wrap his arms around you, apologize for calling you a bitch. But stopped when you held your hand out and shook your head, a sob erupting from your mouth. Suddenly, all the hurtful things Peter said rang through his own head.

Oh...

Shit!

"Baby, I-" He started, not knowing how to follow. His mouth suddenly became dry, letting out a sigh of regret. Voice coming out weak and pained. His chest tightening at the sight of what he has done to you. No no no no no no.... Peter knew you weren't the type to forgive and forget. Even if you both manage to somehow recover from this, he knew that his words would always be in your head. You would constantly doubt yourself and his transparency, thinking if it was all an act.

Regret began to eat away at him once again when he noticed your uneven breathing. Another punch in his gut when he took note of your shaking. Peter's eyes quickly darted to yours, his heart breaking when he saw the amount of fear in them. He was uncertain if you were scared of him or your emotions. He wanted it to be the second one. Peter never wanted you to see him in that light. Yet here you were, having an anxiety attack because of him...

He knew that feeling all too well, having suffered from anxiety of his own, but the fact that he was the one to force you into that state shattered him..

"Don't call me that...." You spat coldy, backing away slowly into your shared bedroom. Making sure he didn't follow and locking the door. Once in the cozy room, you sob like la llorona conveying grief. You couldn't bear to see all the happy pictures of you two, when he said so himself, you're nothing special to him. Without thinking, you began to rip off every Polaroid, framed pictures, and drawings from the walls. Not caring of ripping them. You threw them all on the floor. Your vision becoming clouded by tears as you sob. Ruining the white fabric of your oversized sweater with your makeup contaminated tears.

Your body halts, the last remaining picture was of the both of you on your first date. You always considered that day as the happiest moment of your life. But now knowing that you're just a pit stop in Peter's life, the memory manifests into something much darker than obsidian.

You inhale as you looked at the picture one more time. It was you kissing Peter on the cheek. He donned a beautiful cheshire smile, his freckles displaying proudly under the sunlight. He wore a red, hooded sweatshirt with his hero, Iron man's logo depicted on the top right corner. You always love it when he wore sweaters, especially that one. You remembered every emotion you felt as the picture was being taken. Even if you didn't, your expression held it all. You radiated happiness as the butterflies in your stomach became restless. You were so happy...

You sob lightly, your thumb caressing his face as you looked fondly at the picture. Suddenly, words that fell from his mouth earlier replayed in your head. He had purposely attacked your deepest insecurities. Jabbed and taunted you. The Peter you knew would never result to something so cruel and petty. Without putting much thought into it, you began to take the picture out of its frame.

Your ears perking up when you hear the familiar sound of the lock being picked. The jiggling of the doorknob was something you grew accustomed to. Having locked yourselves out of the bedroom on more than one occasion....

Taking one final breath, you rip the picture in two and retreated into the master bathroom. Once the door was slammed shut and locked, all hell broke loose. As if it couldn't have gotten worse alright. Your wails grew louder and more repetitive that you were being to sound like a banshee, mourning for her decaying heart. Eventually, you found yourself curled up in the bathtub, suppressing your cries into your knees as you lowered your head.

Peter finally succeeds in picking the lock, after what seemed like hours, and once he creaked opened the door of your shared bedroom, his heart broke in two. Parts of him began to deteriorate, he wished he had never said those hurtful things. He felt numb and out of touch with reality, sensing his anxiety looming over his shoulder. Peter knew that one of your biggest insecurities was never meaning much to somebody. And that weren't fond of feeling worthless and neglected. He knew your background and upbringing well enough to know just how much you disliked being treated as such.

All he wanted to do was hold you in his arms and kiss your tears away. A pool of sadness brimmed his eyes as he evaluates the damage. From one corner of the room to the other, pictures were left scattered and discarded. The framed drawings of him that you illustrated, sat on the floor of your bedroom, frame cracked and shattered. The Polaroids he held ever so dearly to his heart, littered the bed and floor. He broke down in tears when he sees the torn picture of you both.

How could you vandalize such a treasured memory. But then again, how could he hurt the most precious thing in his life. Seeing the picture ripped apart like this, he knew that somehow he affected your perspective on this whole relationship. His previous words had tainted such beloved memories, and twisted them to seem like nothing more than a one-sided love. He made you question whether he truly loved you or not. Suddenly the realization kicked in, and it kicked in hard. A tsunami of guilt and regret pierced through is heart. His insides churned and it suddenly became very hard to breathe. He suddenly became really aware of how dire this situation was. His following actions may break your relationship if he didn't act wisely.

Peter bends down to hold your piece of the puzzle, a river flow of heart ache cascading down his cheeks, wetting the captured image of you. Your sobs, which had begun to sound like cries of help, due to lack of air, rang threw Peter's ears. Suddenly he grew extremely concerned and rushed to the door, dropping your image.

Immediately, you stop when you heard soft knocks coming from the other end of the door, which was soon followed by cries and sniffling sounds.

"Baby, open the door!" You don't comply with his words and stayed seated in your place, hugging your knees tighter.

"W-what are you gonna do if i don't? Pick the lock and violate my privacy! Just go away P-peter! W-why don't you go find another girl to replace me, because apparently, i-i mean nothing to you!" Screaming at the inanimate door, or more so the person behind it, as you let out a cut short wail. You hated yourself for how weak and broken you sounded. Wishing, you could drown out his stupid words that had already engraved itself deep in your brain.

"Y-you said s-so yourself! I'm easily replaceable! I-if i had known that this relationship was just gonna be one sided then i would've never wasted my time!" Apparent in your tone and words how truly distraught you were, Peter cried harder, cold sweats engulfing his body. He winced at the thought of how broken you were. It only lead him to wonder, what exactly happened and what brought on this fight. Sounding more so a statement rather than a question in his head.

He parted his lips softly, a small whimpering sigh rolling off his tongue.

"Please y/n, just open the door. I-i just want to see you. Please... I-I need to know that you're okay...." his words laced with mixed emotions, such as sorrow and remorse. Despite his current emotional state, Peter's stature looked anything else but composed. God, he was freaking out..

Incoherently mumbling a soft 'please' as he laid his forehead onto the wood door. His hand resting above his head, fist balled tightly, as if ready to start pounding. He was desperate, eyes screwing shut tightly causing a flow of tears to glide down his cheeks. Peter's jaw clenched tightly in frustration, as he beat himself over and over again for saying such things.

After much hesitance, you stood up and made your way to the door. Peter hears the small shuffle and quickly straightens himself out. After seconds of hovering your hand over the knob, you twist it open, instantly unlocking itself and setting free all the pent up emotions. You crack open the door, almost immediately, Peter rushes in and hugs you.

You don't return the hug, silently stiffening in his arms. At that moment, the last few bits of composure you had built back up snaps loose. You become a crying mess in Peter's arms. Feelings of unmeasurable sadness cascade down your cheeks, onto his black long sleeve shirt. You try and push him away, but fail due to his strength. His muscular arms constricting you as if you would fade away.

"Listen to me please." He says softly, tears lightly streaming down his cheeks, though, not to the caliber of yours.

You sniffle lightly, thrashing in his arms. Though, it was no use, his hold was so secure that no amount of resistance would break you free. So, you could do nothing else but endure what he has to say.

"I'm sorry-

Sorry doesn't fix anything Peter, it's just a word!" The teary-eyed male hissed at your words. The amount of hurt and venom your tone held was enough to make his jaw clench and his hold to tighten.

"I know it doesn't, but it's a start. L-look, i didn't mean to say that. I don't know what came over me, or what caused me to say those things. But what i do know is that they were a hundred percent untrue. And i want you to know that..." He pauses briefly to wipe away your tears with his thumb. Dipping his head into the crook of your neck. He took in your floral scent, hoping it would help him regain composure. You feel a tug on your heart at how utterly hurt and small he sounded.

"I love you with all my heart, and that you are the most unique girl I've ever met... If anything i don't know how i even managed to get a girlfriend as beautiful and amazing as you..... Wanna know why I'm with you?" You nod lightly into his chest. His hold readjust itself as he lays his head above yours. Almost content with your slight gesture, but he needed to be sure you were happy.

"It's because you accept me for who i am. You don't pressure me to be perfect all the time, you welcome my flaws with open arms; don't expect anything from me and shower me with so much love everyday... I want you to know that i could never replace you, not that i would ever want to. How did i ever get so lucky... Please y/n, you are one of the most important people in my life.... I-i can't loose you too..." Peter couldn't fathom a future with out you in it. He grew frantic, thinking that this day could be the last together. And that there would be a slight chance that you didn't want to forgive him again. He couldn't let that happen...

"Please say something...." He sighed whilst tears brimmed his eyes, taking your tightening hold on his shirt to keep moving forward.

"Do you remember when we first started dating, that night i texted you that i was frustrated and my anxiety was acting up... And you came over in a heart beat, even though you lived fifteen minutes away... Y-you told me to let it all out, and i cried in your arms for an hour, complaining about everything. I felt so ashamed for crying in front of you, but you told me that i was so brave for accepting my feelings... I know what i said must've hurt you a lot, but I'll do better... I'm sorry for triggering you like that." Peter's tone was barely above whisper, and if he hadn't have said it directly above your ear, you would've missed it. There he was... your Peter....

You thought back to the said memory and smiled fondly, that was the night you both realized that you wanted a more serious title on your relationship. Finally labeling each other as boyfriend and girlfriend. You thought back to all the happy memories you both shared and confirmed that a silly little fight wouldn't get the best of you. Yes, his words might've hurt, but his actions now out ways all of his petty insults. You give into your flourishing heart and forgive him.

Backing away from his chest lightly, you look up at him, gasping slightly at his blood shot eyes. You hesitatly reach up to cup both of his cheeks. Wiping away the remaining tears that streamed down his face. He smiled lightly and leaned into your touch, taking one of your hands in his and place a soft, delicate kiss on it.

"We'll be okay...." You smiled at his comforting words before planting a passionate, loving kiss on his lips. Peter smiled lightly before taking your wrist on his hold and guiding them to wrap around his neck. He deepens the kiss and pulls you closer by your waist.

It was then that he realized that he wanted you to be the only women in his life. And that he wanted nobody else. Suddenly feeling an overly compelling urge in his heart to make up for his actions overcomes him. He was determined to trap you in his web of love again. He couldn't loose you too...

You smile in content,

portraying the victim always worked...

'Indeed, we'll be just fine.....'

Perhaps they were both awful people, fooling each other with the reality they both created. But it was done with the intent of love, sick twisted love... He was possessive and she was insecure. And together they were toxin and venom... God forbid anything that tries to get in between them...

_____________

End Note:

For those that don't understand, take notice in Peter's words and how drastically different they are from when he was mad to when he was apologizing. Sweet at first glance but if you really dig deep you'd notice how sugar coated everything seemed, like he's saying what you want to hear. And as for the Reader, I purposely left out how much she contributed to the fight in the beginning to make it seem as though she was the victim, when in reality she was also at fault. The anxiety aspect of this story was very much 'real' since I described what it felt like for me and I wanted her to suffer from anxiety yet have something be a little off. Now, I'm not claiming that the bedroom part was a whole scene to feed her victim persona, but that's up to how you want to view it. This story is subjective and can be taken however way you want to.

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