#in total i probably drank a cup and a half of actual coffee

[icannotgetoverbirds]

coffee my beloved but caffiene... \:

in case y'all couldn't tell i drank a little too much coffee today so needless to say im gonna be cutting back and seriously looking for decaf in the meantime lmao

[koolades-world]

hiii i was wondering if you could write abt an asian mc ? with the brothers or the dateables i don't mind! i just think it would be funny to see yk asian mc who's a high achiever (so even at RAD when they know nothing abt magic they'll try to score high), always take off their shoes before entering a place (entering a place with shoes is forbidden !!), always cook rice or stuff from their country when on cooking duties ("wdym we already ate that when it was my turn last time?"), will make you special herbal tea if you're sick (first time i suggested to make tea for my ill white friend they laughed :( ), tells you to eat more and in the same fashion, whose love language is giving you food, etc... bonus point if mc swears in their mother tongue. And if the MC was living in their native country before going to the devildom, their ability to just nap anywhere as if it's normal.

As someone who grew up in an asian household it's just regular to me but i can picture the face Lucifer would make if the first time mc enter Dia's castle they take off their shoes casually or like MC stuffing Beel's mouth with food as if he just didn't swallow the biggest mouthful of udon ever saying "come on Beel you need food, you need strength to play Fangol"

For the nap thing i was thinking about my relatives who take nap on their wooden bad or just the floor during summer (cause its fresh yk). My grandma always said a hard bed is good for the back lol

Anyway no pressure!! Have a nice day and take care !

hi!! yes of course :)

i'm a different flavor of asian but some of the culture overlaps so this was fun to write! haha the amount of times my grandma has urged me to eat more is hard to count. oh and the amount of tea i drank when we went to visit. i'll never forget watching her make the tea because it was a whole experience

i'm half indian and someone actually requested an indian mc so that will be out tomorrow because doing these requests back to back easiest for me!

enjoy <3

Asian Mc

Lucifer

you're ALWAYS on him for the amount of coffee he drinks

you also always make sure he takes a break to eat dinner because he needs to eat in order to continue his work

despite how bothered he might seem sometimes, he really does value what you do for him

plus, you not only keep yourself in line, sometimes you do his brothers for him too. thanks on his behalf!

Mammon

once you grow closer, he's asking you to teach him swear words so he can cuss out lucifer

if you don’t, well, he’ll just pick them up when you swear and hope he can figure out what it means haha

if you want, feed him random words, or even compliments so when lucifer hears them, he'll just be confused haha

despite the fact that he's the demon, maybe you can help him in class

Levi

when he first meets you, he'd not sure what to expect

however he quickly learns you're the best at everything you do

this includes video games and everything of that manner

he's got competition now, but he has no clue how you got so good considering it was probably your first time at all of the games you've tried

Satan

he's impressed by your work ethic and desire to achieve

you got dropped in a totally new environment and instead of struggling to adjust like he predicted, you bounced back almost immediately and were at the top of your class like it was nothing!

he tried to ask you once why you seemed so determine to get the best grade and never asked again after the look you gave him

something the two of you can bond over, though, is tea! he can often be seen with a cup of tea so that's an easy conversation starter between the two of you if not homework instead

Asmo

while initially he thought you two might not get along, you actually do quite well

he's huge on no shoes in the house and especially in his room

after all, he wants to avoid bringing as many outside germs into his room as possible

can and will ask you to teach him how you make your special herbal teas because he hates being sick and genuinely just wants to know

Beel

he falls in love with your rice cooker

rice that easy and that quick? sign him up! if he didn't already love rice you've put him on it

he doesn't think he could ever part with you and your wonderful cooking

even if you do cook the same thing every time it's your turn, he will inhale it because not only is it delicious, but you're an amazing cook

Belphie

even he's impressed by your ability to fall asleep anywhere

at least he's always with his pillow and maybe a blanket but he's seen you just curled up on the porch waiting for someone to get home

but that sighting was rare, because he felt like he always saw you doing something

however he really appreciated all the little things you did for him, such as making his bed

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Part of the Family

Enzo St. John x Mikaelson! Reader

Part 1 of 4

Words: 2621

Summary: After leaving the Armory, Enzo is devastated to find that his family was a group of thieves and liars.  Determined to help your boyfriend through this, you come up with a wildly romantic solution. 

Note: Besides being in season seven of Vampire Diaries, there isn’t much else of either show’s plot. I just wanted to write a little series that I thought would be both Enzo’s romantic side and the Mikaelson’s flare for the dramatic. So no deadly threats besides family drama. Let me know if you guys like it! (Note: I’m reposting these because I really wanted to just make some minor edits before I finally finish out this series)

Warnings: Lots of Fluff (and some mild language)

-

The quiet was both peaceful and maddening. You were used to the sound of jazz music in the morning and the strong smell of coffee, but this morning there was nothing. Just silence. You slowly rose from the bed and grabbed the nearest pieces of decent clothing you could find- which just happened to be your boyfriend’s favorite shirt, a pair of jeans and sandals. Your feet made almost no sound on the hardwood floor, but it was enough for Enzo to hear you coming. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you, love.” He said, looking out the window of your apartment. 

“How could you have? You haven’t made a sound at all.” You scoffed.

“Are you asking me to be louder at seven in the morning?” He turned towards you and you could see the raw emotion in his eyes. He saw you looking and quickly moved his gaze to the kitchen. “Ah, I’ve forgotten the coffee. No wonder you’re in a foul mood.” He had been acting this way ever since he had gotten back from the Armory. Something was wrong, you just couldn’t figure out what. You followed him into the kitchen and wrapped your arms around his waist, placing a light kiss on his shoulder before resting your head there.

“Enzo…” You started, kissing the crook of his neck. “What’s going on? You’ve been acting strange lately.”

“Don’t know what you mean, darling.” He poured coffee into your mug and handed it back to you. You pulled yourself up onto the counter and sipped the delicious warm liquid. 

“You haven't played your guitar in days, you won't go out of the apartment, and every time I try to talk to you you seem completely distant.” Even now, he was looking off, not really hearing you. “Enzo!” His gaze snapped to you.

“I’m fine love. Really.” He kissed your cheek as he walked past. Still not convinced, you followed him to the living room where the two of you sat in silence. You took a deep breath, wincing at your own words.

“It’s the Armory, isn’t it? Your family.”

“I said that I’m fine!” He snapped. “Maybe I’m just sick of all your bloody questions.” You scoffed, narrowing your eyes at him and setting the mug on the table. 

“You’re so afraid of being alone, Enzo.” You stood and grabbed your car keys. “Maybe you should stop pushing away the people who care about you.” He didn’t even move his gaze from the floor as you slammed the door of the apartment behind you. 

Enzo rubbed his eyes. He knew that he shouldn’t have snapped at you. He was tired and hurt over the fact that his family wasn’t at all what he dreamed they would be. They were quite the opposite, actually. He feared that he was exactly like them; a lying, heartless beast who only cared about the ends instead of the means. Looking back at his life only made him see how similar he was to them. And it scared him more than he wished it would. 

-

Bonnie gave you the ‘I told you so’ look from across the cafe table. You rolled your eyes. Although your family and the remaining Bennett witch had never gotten along, you had become best friends with both her, Caroline, and Elena. It still hurt to think that you would never see two of your closest friends together again all because of Kai’s stupid curse. 

“Don’t say it.” You begged taking a long sip of the new coffee you ordered. She held up her hands and smiled innocently.

“I have no idea what you mean.” She too drank from the cup in front of her. “It’s not like I’ve been telling you for the past year that Enzo is a total dick who is so undeserving of you.”

“We had an argument, Bonnie.” You sighed. “We didn’t break up so stop talking about him like we did.” 

“I always talk about him like this.” You pegged your bunched up napkin at her and fell back in your seat. “Look, Y/N, I know you care about him, but I saw what he was like in the Armory. He was so determined to figure out who his family was, I think when he found out who they really were… he broke.”

“I know and I want to help him. I just don’t know how.” You thought of what your life was like compared to his. “I don’t exactly know what it’s like to not have a family.” Every moment of your life was surrounded with memories of your twin brother Kol, or your younger sister Rebekah, or of course your two loving- but insanely protective- older brothers; Elijah and Niklaus. Your siblings meant everything to you, and it was hard to imagine what your thousand years would have been like without them. 

“Try to make him feel like he’s a part of something.” Bonnie suggested. Despite her dislike of Enzo, a part of her did like to think of him as a somewhat ally. She also cared deeply about you and she wanted you to be happy, even if it was with Enzo. “Make him see that he isn’t alone.” 

-

“What the hell do you want?” Damon snapped, narrowing his eyes at his old friend standing before him. Enzo pushed passed him into the house. “Come on in.” Damon slammed the door and followed Enzo into his living room.

“I need a drink.” He muttered, finding Damon’s favorite bourbon and poured himself a glass. He drank it quickly and poured another. Damon snatched the bottle away from him.

“Sorry buddy, but I am not your personal liquor store.” He poured a glass for himself and placed the bottle away from Enzo. “What’s wrong with you anyway? Where’s your obnoxious British swagger?”

“Let’s just say I’ve had a rough week.” 

“Ah yes, the rest of the St. John psycho clan…” Damon started. Enzo shot him a look. “So your family sucks. Join the club.” 

“It’s not just that…” Enzo sighed heavily. “It’s Y/N.”

“So this is a lover’s spat? My favorite.” He leaned against the table with a smirk. “What did the female half of the Devil Twins do now?”

“Y/N didn’t do anything. I snapped at her this morning after she asked about… them.” 

“Let me guess, she wants to meet the parents?” Damon said sarcastically. 

“Can you take anything seriously?” Enzo growled. Damon wiggled his eyebrows mischievously.

“Nope.” He ushered Enzo onto the couch who laid down, arm slung over his face. “Maybe this is just your turning point. I mean, we all kind of knew that the two of you wouldn’t work.” He moved his arm so he could look at Damon.

“What?”

“Yeah, I mean, sure it was ��cute’ at first. The two sociopaths of Mystic Falls united by their undying need for mayhem and death.” He gagged. “But we knew it wasn’t going to last. Her family puts each other in coffins, you’re claustrophobic, she has daddy issues, you had a thing for my mom- the list goes on.” Enzo propped himself up on his elbows.

“You think we should split up?” 

“Of course not.” Damon took a long drink of bourbon. “Have you not been listening to a word I just said?” Enzo’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Did I miss something?” He wondered, fully sitting up on the couch. Damon rolled his eyes and moved behind the sofa to get more bourbon. 

“I’m Damon freaking Salvatore! Am I really going to tell you to go with what everyone else thinks?” He put his hand on his chest in mock offense. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.” 

“So you’re saying not to split up?” Damon smacked the back of his head and Enzo growled.

“Do I need to spell it out for you? Think about it. Everyone thought that Elena was making a horrible decision when she chose me. Despite the fact that she is in a witchy coma for the next sixty years, we still held onto the idea of spending our lives together. Exhibit B; everyone said that Stefan and Caroline were the perfect couple and they were going to live happily ever after- until he made the dick move to run off with Valerie even after we killed Rayna.” Instead of pouring a glass, he just took a swig from the bottle. “The point is: the world is full of assholes who are often wrong. So don’t listen to them.” Enzo blew out a long breath and fell back onto the couch. 

“I suppose you’re right.” He chuckled.

“Of course I’m right.” Damon lifted him up from his seat and started pushing him towards the door. “So go find your hot psycho original vampire and make sweet love to her for all I care. Whatever gets you out of my house.”

“Why did we stop being mates again?” Enzo asked sarcastically when he was shoved outside.

“You tried to kill my girlfriend, remember?” Damon thought for a moment. “Then again, I did try to kill yours on multiple occasions so I guess we’re even.” He laughed to himself. “There was this one time, after we-” He stopped the sentence abruptly, remembering that he was standing in front of Y/N’s current boyfriend, so revealing their dirty past relationship was probably a bad idea. “Nevermind. Now go.” He finished and slammed the door. Enzo thought about everything he had said and knew what he needed to do. 

-

He found you sitting back in the apartment, with an extremely determined look on your face. When you saw him come in, you stood. You opened your mouth to speak, but he stopped you.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted. You cocked your head to the side.

“For what?”

“Shouting at you this morning. I’ve been thinking ever since I got back from the Armory, panicking really.” He explained. “What if I’m just like them? I’ve lied and cheated and killed to get what I want, much like they have to add to their supernatural collection. I was angry at myself and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.” To his surprise, you laughed.

“You don’t need to apologize, Enzo.” You stepped towards him, placing a hand on his cheek. “God knows I’ve started my fair share of brawls between us.” He leaned into your hand, the tips of your fingers tangling in his hair. It took all of his strength to pull away and continue.

“I haven’t finished.” He paced across the room and your hand fell to your side. “I’m not going to be able to just move past this. I need time. I need to try and figure out what I’m supposed to do now.” 

“I know.” You interjected. “I want to help you, Enzo. I want to help you get through all of this.”

“No.” He said bluntly. “I need to do this on my own.” You thought that you could let it go. That you could let him go off on his own to figure things out by himself. But you couldn’t.

“No you don’t.” You snapped. “Enzo, you don’t have to do this alone.”

“It is my family. I need to do this.”

“They may be your blood, but they are not your family.” You put your hands on either side of his face. His eyes were glistening.

“Then I shall never have one?” His expression was so sad, it crushed you. One solution came to mind and it made your body shiver with nerves.

“If you want a family…” You paused and studied him. You knew that you wanted this, but would he? “Become part of mine.” His puzzled expression pushed you further. “Your whole life, you’ve been wanting to be a part of something. You’ve wanted a place to belong. I can give that to you.” 

“Y/N, what are you saying.” 

“I’m saying,” you took a deep breath. “Lorenzo St. John… Will you marry me?” His eyes went wide and for a moment your heart sank. But then he smiled, sending a bright feeling through you, like a ball of light traveling through your veins. 

“Are you serious?” He asked and you nodded. He lifted you off the ground, spinning around and laughing. “Yes. Of course yes!” Your lips collided as you continued to spin. He set you down on your feet, your arms still draped around his neck. “Though you have robbed me of making the large romantic gesture of proposing.” 

“Well,” you grinned, taking his hand. “Let me make it up to you.”

-

You curled your toes around the bedsheets and released them, feeling the breeze come in from the open window. You felt a hand playing with your hair and you turned to face Enzo. He twisted a strand around his finger then pushed it away from your face. 

“Hello love.” He purred, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. You sighed with content. He wrapped his arms around you and you laid your head on his chest. The moment couldn’t be more perfect. Until you realized…

“You’re going to have to meet them.” You blurted suddenly. He pulled away so he could look at you.

“What?”

“My siblings. You’re going to have to meet them.” He chuckled.

“You’re worried about that?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed. “I would like to be married in New Orleans, since it is the closest thing I’ve had to having a real home.”

“That’s perfectly fine with me.” He said, pulling you into his arms again. You pushed away and sat up.

“I don’t think you understand. We’re not...” You paused to search for the right word. “Normal. Nor are they very hospitable when it comes to strangers.” He sat up next to you, his fingers drawing circles on your back. “We need a plan.” 

“I highly doubt-” He started but you cut him off.

“Freya will probably be defensive at first, but if you do nothing to threaten us, she’ll warm up to you. Rebekah will try and get you to give her a reason to hate you, so you’ll have to make sure to be careful. Eventually she’ll accept us since she’s always been a sucker for a good romance. Kol will be fine with anything that brings a party.” You turned to face him, a very serious look on your face. “Elijah is the one you want to impress. He’s the only one who can stop Klaus from killing you.”

“Stop Klaus from doing what?” Enzo exclaimed.

“Niklaus is very temperamental when it comes to his sibling’s relationships with other people. He always fears that we will abandon him for somebody else. So when he discovers a romance, it is rare that our significant others survive the encounter.” 

“And you want me to meet him?” He scoffed. “And then tell him we’re getting married.” You snatched up Enzo’s shirt that you had worn earlier from the bedpost.

“My siblings being a part of our wedding is really important to me Enzo. Even the ones with murderous tendencies.” You left out the fact that all of you tended to go on killing sprees from time to time- yourself included. He sighed and pulled you in for a long, passionate kiss.

“Well if I am killed because I love you it will have been worth it.” You pouted your lips sarcastically.

“You’re so sweet.” You said, pressing your lips to his again, but pushing away quickly. “We’re still going.” He groaned and fell back on the bed. You rolled your eyes and located the rest of your clothes, barely able to contain the turning bundle of excitement and nerves rolling around your stomach. It was time to go home.

-

Keeping Reading to: Meet the Mikaelsons

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

[jonahlovescoffee]

Unbelievable | J.M.

a/n: bc jonah in the unbelievable music video is just hot hot hot hot hot :) i’ve been putting this one on hold for way too long. not rlly satisfied with the way it went but i promise it’s not that bad (i think) lol happy reading <3

summary: jonah’s outfit was unbelievable and so was his ability to pleasure you anywhere, even in the kitchen.

warnings: kitchen smut as requested by @averysbestyears

word count: 3362

“your taste; i could drink, i could drink, i could drink a whole damn case; every drip, every drip, couldn't let you go to waste”

You spent the entirety of your morning out and about running errands, only returning to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend late in the afternoon with bags of groceries in hand. With Jonah out with his band mates to film a music video for their upcoming single for who-knows-how-long, the apartment you shared with him seemed unusually quiet and empty without the constant couple banter between you both. In attempt to lessen the feeling of loneliness caused by the deafening silence, you put on some relaxing music on the stereo before putting away all the groceries, leaving only the necessary ingredients for a chocolate cake on the counter. After tying your hair up in a messy bun, you got started excitedly with your baking, humming softly along to the music as you worked. Despite having baked for countless times before, you still weren’t exactly good at it, your clumsy self often knocking over and accidentally spilling everything and anything everywhere which explained why your counter looked like a chaotic war zone half an hour later when you were done.

You heaved a relieved sigh when you managed to put the cylinder pan filled with cake batter safely into the oven, a triumphant smile plastered on your face. You were about to start cleaning up the kitchen when you heard the faint sound of the door opening and closing so you rushed to the living room immediately to be greeted by the sight of Jonah taking off his shoes at the foyer. He smiled when he looked up and saw you, opening his arms for you which you run into with glee.

“Welcome home, love,” you giggled as he picked you up off your feet and spun you around few times until you squealed and asked him to put you down.

“Missed you so bad,” he said and placed a tender kiss on your head as he followed you into the kitchen, an arm around your waist. “Baking again?” He asked after sniffing the air that was filled with the slightly bitter scent of the chocolate cake that wafted out through the oven, completely oblivious to your lingering gaze on him that was sneakily examining him from head to toe—eyes darting from his tousled brown hair to the dark grey t-shirt that hugged his muscled figure perfectly, showing off the subtle outlines of the toned abs hiding underneath, to his long white jacket that reached his knees and jeans of the same colour—and gosh, he sure looks handsome. How nice must it feel to let your hands roam his body and—

“Baby?” He called, snapping you out of your train of thoughts and you blinked several times at him who was waving his hands in front of you, trying to get your attention.

“Yes, what were you saying again?” You smiled sheepishly at him, light pink tinting your cheeks, embarrassed by your explicit thoughts although no one heard them apart from you. But Jonah had known you long enough to figure out the exact thoughts that were running through your head a moment ago. And as a good boyfriend, he couldn’t leave your wishes unattended, could he?

“Well, I was asking if you need help with cleaning but I think we’ll get to that later, hmm?” A smirk made its way onto his face as he backed you up until your back hit the edge of the counter and he pinned you against it, his tall figure towering over your petite one. “Since you’re so overly interested in admiring my body,” he said smugly and you blushed a darker shade of crimson, guilty as charged.

“It’s...it’s your fault for dressing like this today,” you stuttered nervously while avoiding his gaze, earning a small chuckle from him.

“I’m glad you like my outfit,” he licked his lips before cupping the back of your neck to tilt your head so that you were looking at him directly in the eyes. “But I think you’ll like it better if I take them off, am I right, baby?” He asked, his voice turning husky.

“No! Definitely not! What are you talking about?” You hurriedly waved your hands in front of yourself in denial but your wavering tone wasn’t convincing enough. This bastard already knew the answer to his own question and the last thing you would do was admit it out loud to feed his ego (actually it was because you were too much of a coward to do so but we don’t talk about that here).

Jonah could feel his self control that he had put on himself ever since he walked through the front door gradually faltering at the sight of how innocent you looked on the outside — how flustered you got at the mere implication of sex like you had never done it your entire life — and how much it fueled his desire to take you right then and there in the kitchen, which was precisely what he was going to do. “Well baby, I’ll keep my clothes on then, but this means you gotta lose yours.”

“No, that’s not what I meant...ahh,” you were cut short by a gasp of your own when his lips connected with your neck without warning, generously leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from your jaw down to the column of your neck, sending a shock of heat through your core.

“Then what do you mean, sweetheart?” With you guys’ handful of previous experiences, it didn’t take long for him to find your sweet spot, abruptly scraping his teeth against it, easily biting hard enough to create a bruise, earning a moan from you as your hands instinctively found their way into his hair, tugging at his brown locks lightly until a groan managed to slip past his lips.

“I...,” you trailed off, still too timid to speak your mind. When you didn’t make a move to continue your sentence, he pulled away from you and you almost whimpered at the sudden loss of contact.

“Go on. I’m waiting,” he urged, his fingers drumming the countertop impatiently, waiting for your reply. “I won’t start until you tell me what you want.”

“I want to feel you,” you replied quickly, spilling out all the words out in one go and with a satisfied grin, he lifted you up onto the counter and he was standing between your legs.

“Yeah? Which part of me, baby?” He teased, both of his hands now on your waist, his thumbs gently tracing random patterns.

“Every part of you, Jonah, fuck. So can we stop with the talking and start doing now?” You yanked him closer by the chain around his neck before finally connecting your lips with his, opening your mouth on a second’s notice when you felt his teeth sink into your bottom lip lightly, granting his tongue full permission to slip into your mouth almost immediately. You couldn’t help but release another moan as soon as you tasted the coffee that he probably just drank in the car on the way home on his tongue.

Not just any coffee. You knew the difference between the tastes of all kinds of coffee like the back of your hand. The bitter taste with a hint of the sweetness of chocolate that engulfed your senses now was definitely not the taste of the straight black coffee he usually preferred.

No, it was the taste of mocha—your favourite type of coffee.

“You prick, you expected this to happen, huh?” You asked when both of you pulled away to catch your breaths, your faces remaining inches apart, your breaths mingling with each other’s.

“Maybe,” he chuckled darkly as his fingers slowly curled around your neck, “We always end up naked after every of my band photoshoots in one way or another so why not be prepared this time?”

Before you can let a string of vulgar curses escape, he attached your lips with his once again and from the way his hand tightened around your neck and the rougher movements of his tongue, you knew that he wasn’t planning on holding back his feral hunger for you this time round, subsequently making you moan with extreme pleasure when your tongues entwined and also at the thought of what he was about to do to you.

You angled your head to deepen the kiss as your hands grabbed fistfuls of his jacket, a silent plea for him to take it off, in which he responded with shifting his body enough for you to slip it off, the expensive white material thudding to the ground, revealing his strong tattooed arms. You let you fingers trace his biceps for a moment before moving your hands downwards to pull his shirt out of his jeans but he stopped you before you could remove his shirt.

“Don’t,” he said sternly into the kiss and grabbed both your hands in one hand quickly. He pulled away, biting your bottom lip with a force strong enough to make it swell slightly. “It’s not your turn until I say so,” he snarled and you felt heat pooling at your core just from the serious look on his face. “Now lie down,” he ordered and forced you down with the hand around your throat swiftly but carefully so you were laying flat on the counter, on top of all the spilled flour and some cake batter, the unkept baking supplies pushed to the very end of the counter.

He did not wait any longer to peel your shirt off you and you watched him exhale sharply as his eyes darkened, the black of his pupils almost consuming all the vibrant hazel surrounding them. “Fucking hell baby,” he tossed your shirt aside as his eyes drank in every curves and edges of your bare upper body. You didn’t bother to put on any undergarments when you changed after you got home from your grocery run, thinking that since no one’s home aside from you it’ll be totally fine. You made a mental note to do this more often in future because his stunned turned-on expression was definitely something you would want to see again. “Is it my birthday or something today?”

“You’re not the only one who came prepared,” you said cheekily, adding in a hushed tone, “Just so you know, I’m not even wearing anything underneath my pants either.” A string of profanities fell from his lips at your words as his hand made its way between your thighs, pushing your shorts aside to slip in his fingers. The wetness that his fingers were immediately greeted with was proof enough of your testament, earning a satisfactory groan from him.

“Now, where shall I start?” He asked, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip as he stared down at your shirtless figure splayed on the counter like his own personal feast. “Here? Or,” He teased, his hands travelled down to one of your breasts from your neck and let a finger draw circles around your nipple. “Here?” He tentatively dragged his fingers unhurriedly along your slit, collecting your ever growing slick, which had you whimpering and grinding against his fingers, in desperate need of as much friction as possible, yearning to feel more of him but the movement of his fingers remained so excruciatingly slowly.

“So fucking needy, aren’t you, my little slut?” he tisked, flicking his middle and index fingers between your hard nipple, earning an involuntary moan from you. “I’m barely doing anything,” he chuckled before taking his fingers that were coated in your sticky arousal and bringing them to his mouth, making sure that your gaze was on him as he licked them clean. “Tastes so fucking good as always.”

“Jonah, please,” you begged, “touch me more.”

“Oh I’ll do so much more than touching, babygirl,” you bit your tongue to suppress another moan at his words that were immediately followed by the sound of him falling onto his knees. His fingers gripped your thighs, pushing them further up and apart, his face nearing your dripping core. He let out a little huff on the inner part of your thighs, causing your legs to slightly shiver and your pussy flutter.

“Fucking gorgeous.” he breathed, his eyes staring hungrily at your cunt before laying his tongue flatly against your clit and let you rut yourself against it for a second before he unexpectedly gave it a harsh bite with a little bit of force. You slammed your hands against the counter right away and let out a loud gasp.

“Whoops, my bad,” he chuckled and you felt him smirk against your flesh. “Let me try this again.”

He wrapped his mouth around your throbbing clit before starting to suck it softly, his tongue flickering back and forth against it before moving his mouth lower and sweeping his tongue against your folds. It almost hurt with how incredible you were feeling right now. His mouth was hot against you as his velvety tongue continued swiping back and forth against your clit, faster and harder each time. The way he groaned at the taste of your body intoxicated you with more lust and you soon found yourself unable to think, hear, feel or remember anything else save for the name of the male that was eating you out like it was his last meal.

And when he finally moved his tongue into your pussy, it felt too good to be true. So fucking good that you were about to combust with pleasure. He went at a slow pace at first but then sped up every three thrusts until you were softly chanting a continuous series of “yes” under your breath. It seemed that he didn’t think that was enough, for he moved a finger to your weeping core, the rough pad of the tip of his finger pressing down and moving around in circular movements.

He was so rough but it felt so good, every lick and suck successfully building flares of heat in your adomen. “I...I’m close,” you stuttered, not really able to speak in your current state of bliss.

“Yeah? You wanna cum, darling?” Jonah asked, replacing his tongue with two fingers that managed to slip into you ever so easily due to how wet you were, pumping them in and out quickly.

“Uh-huh,” You nodded, your hands finding their way to him naturally, clinging onto him for dear life as he skillfully finger fucked you, your high gradually approaching with each thrust of his digits. Without any warning, he attached his lips to your bundle of nerves and sucked on it, right when he curled his fingers inside you, easily finding and hitting your g-spot. Your hands tightened on his shoulders, nails digging into his thick, supportive muscles.

“Cum for me, darling.”

Your walls tightened on him and an orgasm wracked through your body at his command, back arched while your thighs trembled as you came undone around his fingers. Panting slightly, you tried to regain your breath but before you knew it, his tongue went back to work again, swirling around to capture every single drop of your sweet juices into his mouth, the slurping noises and the ethereal feeling of his tongue on you turning you into a moaning mess.

“Fuck, darling, you taste so good,” he complimented, pulling his fingers out of you and put them in his mouth, licking them clean while looking at you and you let out an unrecognisable sound from the sight alone. “Couldn’t get enough of you. C’mon here.”

You did as he told, sitting up and scooting closer to him, your hands itching to undress him but you didn’t once you remembered his warning. You despised him still being fully clothed while you were already stripped bare for him but you also knew that one, going against him would accomplish nothing but getting punished on your part and two, he would adhere to your wishes once he felt like it.

And you were right.

“Take it off, I know you want to,” he said and you pulled his shirt off him excitedly before undoing his belt and his jeans, pushing them down along with his underwear and they pooled at his ankles, leaving his member standing at attention, already leaking with precut with all the lust bottled inside him.

“Wanna keep you close when I fuck you senseless, baby,” he teased your entrance with the tip of his cock and you whined. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” He nudged your folds slightly and you nodded.

“I want your dick so bad,” you admitted with a hint of shyness and his lips broke into a small smile before pressing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Mmhmm, and I’ll give it to you, pretty girl,” he sheathed himself inside of you and you let out a gasp at the sudden intrusion.

Taking a few slow thrusts to allow yourself to adapt to his size, it’s only a moment before Jonah completely bottoms out inside of you. He watches your face shiver in pleasure which he mirrors. He clasped your hips so firmly his knuckles turned white; it didn’t even hurt as all you could focus on was him inside you. Your hands found their way to his biceps, gripping on for some tension relief and you could still feel his muscles flex even beneath your hands.

“What a good fuckin’ girl, taking my cock like this.” Jonah’s voice was a low growl as he thrusts into you, the slaps of your skin interacting between each thrust was like a sinful symphony. “So fucking tight.”

The smell of the cologne he wore danced in your brain as he worked up a sweat absolutely pummeling himself into your sex. You grasped onto him as if your life depended on it, moaning into his neck as his cock slid in and out of you. You didn’t even know how much time was passing as he rutted himself into you relentlessly

“Just cum already, you know you want to babygirl,” he muttered to you through his clenched teeth, groans of his own escaping every now and then. You took your opportunity and let your pleasure go for the second time, your orgasm taking over as your back arched even more, your toes curling as you moaned out in pleasure.

He came soon after, relentlessly pounding into you throughout his own orgasm, his thick warm seed coating the inside of your walls, the sensation making you shiver as your nipples started to stiffen up even more. He stayed inside you for a few more seconds before he pulled out, the cum sliding out and onto your inner thighs. He stared as it drizzled out for a few more moments before he gave a smirk, glancing back up to your breathless form and his expression softened right away.

“Guess it’s time for a good bath now, love,” he said as his hands reached behind you to grab some paper towels to clean up the mess between your thighs. You tiredly rested your head on his shoulder once he’s done and the paper towels were discarded into the bin.

“I can’t feel my legs anymore though,” you complained, arms already around his neck, hoping that he’d get your hint, which he did.

“Fine, I’ll carry you,” he said with a laugh, hands sliding down your spine to grip your thighs firmly and you wrapped your legs around his waist before he hoisted you off the counter and started walking towards your bedroom. “You always turn into a baby after sex. How cute.”

“I’m your baby so of course I am,” you nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“My pretty little baby girl, hmm?” The way his voice dipped a tone when he pronounced those words near your ear made your heartbeat drop to your southern region instantly and you felt your pussy gradually turning wet. Again.

He chuckled, a sign that he felt the changes in your body too, earning a smack on his back from you. “Shut up. It’s your fault.”

“Good thing the bathtub is big enough for two then.”

taglist: @chilling-seavey @neralondon @mia-marais @randomlimelightxxx @hopinglimelight @kvd963 @cutiebandlover202 @savspersonalproperty @slowdownatthelotusinn @angelzacharyy @freakshows199 @my-fangirling-outlet

[one-boring-person]

H'okay I gotta bite. From the friends-to-enemies-to-lovers prompt, would you please do #5 with one of our favorite smart asses: Gabriel Cash? I was going to ask for Snake but after seeing 'Guilty as Charged' I *LOVE* how you write him!

Thank you so much! I'm really glad you liked it! And thanks for the request, I enjoyed writing it, though I'm really sorry that it took so long :/

We Make A Good Team.

Gabe Cash (Tango and Cash) x reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of gun violence

Masterlist

"Sorry, can I just…" A pair of hands suddenly grip my waist and pull me to the side, away from my position by the corner, the familiar voice sending a wave of irritation through me as I hear it.

Stumbling to stand beside the newcomer, I glare at him as he takes my place, drawing a gun from his belt as he presses himself back against the grimy bricks, peeking round the corner.

"Cash, get the hell out of my way!" I hiss at him, grabbing his arm to pull him back.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you say something?" Gabe turns briefly to look at me, his hair whipping into my face from our accidental proximity. 

"Come on, Cash. You know playing deaf doesn't suit you." I retort, still pulling at his arm.

"Really? Because it sure as hell looks like you're enjoying it." He sends a pointed glance at my hand on his sleeve, "See, you're already trying to take my clothes off."

Snapping my hand back to my body, I make a sound of disgust, blushing angrily as he smirks at me and turns back around, peering round into the darkened street.

With an angry scowl, I turn back to face the rest of the team of armed police behind us, locating my captain quickly.

"Why the hell is he on my case, sir?!" I growl, gesturing back to the blonde beside me.

"Hey, hey! "He" has a name, you know." Gabe interrupts, "And who said it's your case? Last I checked, there's a whole crowd here."

"What, you think you should go in solo?" I scoff, barely looking at him, "I've been on this case for a week now, so it's mine. I call the shots, so fuck off!" 

"Actually, (Y/n), I called him in." My captain says from the back of the group, sending me a stern look as I set my jaw.

"But why?" 

"Because, babe, there's no way you're gonna pull this off without me." Gabe smirks, before he suddenly steps out from behind the corner, yelling out to the criminals I'm trying to convict.

"Cash! You fucker!" I bite out after him, following swiftly with my gun raised, knowing I'll probably need it now.

Falling in beside him, I take up a position to his right, inadvertently reverting back to old habits I built up years before, weapon aimed slightly to the side as I keep half an eye on the surroundings as well as the scene before us. Noticing me there, Gabe shoots me a quick grin, winking as he sees me realise what I've done, looking back as I make a face of disgust and move into a different place, scowling to myself. Observing the scene before me, I change my aim as I figure out that there's no way we'll be snuck up on - the gangs (all three) are there in their entirety. Swallowing, I signal to the squad behind us to move in, thankful for the forethought of bringing in more help from the armed cops. It's not long before they're all in position, both the ones behind us and on the roofs around, as well as those at the other end of the alley. 

"Put your weapons down, you're surrounded! Nobody needs to get hurt, but if you don't do what I say, someone will!" I call out to the gathered gang members before Cash can get a word in, eyeing them all warily.

Nothing happens, the whole alley remaining still and silent, almost eerie as we stare at each other, guns aimed at one another. It takes a full minute for the tension to be broken.

"You think she's joking? Listen, guys, I've seen her angry and trust me, it's not pretty. Just drop the weapons, and none of us have to see her go batshit! Everyone wins!" Gabe finally shouts to the gangs, nodding towards me with a knowing look. 

Annoyed, I glance at him, glaring as he winks at me again, finding his relaxed approach infuriating. Across from us, the gang members look at each other in confusion, as if debating whether or not to follow our instruction 

"Look, guys, it's really not that hard. Just do what she says!" Cash tries again, cocking his gun ominously.

"Drop your weapons!" I follow up, adjusting my grip on my gun, "Drop them and step back, hands in the air!"

As the threat of the situation finally sinks in for them all, many of the gangsters gradually place their weapons down, surrendering themselves even as their compatriots curse them out, pointing their guns at them. It doesn't take long, however, for them all to see sense, especially as the armed police move forwards to start making the arrests. 

With a triumphant grin, Gabe turns to me and holsters his gun, lifting an eyebrow at my vexed expression as he goes to move past.

"Way to go, team!" He comments as he steps past me, bumping my shoulder with his.

Flipping him off, I go to help the others, ignoring him.

*

It's already half ten by the time I finish writing the report, my hand aching from the continuous movement - my captain has always preferred handwritten files for some reason, so I often spend hours writing up days and days worth of case notes. Even so, as I walk over to the door to the captain's office, I can't help but feel a little satisfied by the completed wad of paper, holding it carefully so that it doesn't get damaged at all. 

Naturally, the captain isn't in at this time of night, so I push open his door and go to the desk, dropping the file by his keyboard with a final thunk, glad to be rid of the burden. Without further ado, I leave the room, heading to my office again to grab my things, only to realise I have yet to sort out the conviction forms for the gangsters we picked up earlier, a job that will take me a good hour or so alone. Sighing, I take up the pile of papers, shuffling through them with a tired carelessness, moving back out into the corridor with them. 

This time, I make my way over to the communal area, intending to make myself a cup of coffee so that I'll at least be able to stay awake whilst I fill these in. As I enter though, I fail to notice the figure sat in the corner.

"Babe, it is way too late to be drinking coffee. You should try a beer." Gabe's voice sounds almost as tired as I feel, though I can't quite see why, as it's highly unlikely that he's done any paperwork in the last four hours.

His words startle me, making me jump and drop my cup to the counter top with a loud clatter.

"Fuck, Cash! You scared the shit outta me!" I curse, pressing a hand to my chest as I catch my breath.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Thought you'd seen me." The detective apologises, lifting his beer up to his lips.

"S'fine." I mumble, turning to the fridge in search of a drink, "I need something stronger than a beer."

"Stronger?" Gabe lifts an eyebrow.

"Yeah. But I'll take a beer...I ran out of scotch a few days ago." 

"Scotch? You take that shit to work?" His other eyebrow joins the first.

Shooting him a tired smirk, I grab a beer and join him at the table, dropping the papers down in a messy heap.

"I usually do." I reply, cracking the beer open on the edge of the table, "As I said, I drank it all."

"Damn, girl, didn't realise work got you so stressed." He remarks, toasting me as I lift my drink to my lips.

I shrug, taking out my pen to fill some of the forms in, writing in the date, charges and signing the bottom. 

"Why don't you just leave that for someone else to do? Or wait until tomorrow? They're not going anywhere." Gabe asks after a while, having watched me in silence, the longest we've gone without arguing in a long time.

"Because," I sigh, glancing up at him, "I actually stick to my deadlines. This needs to be done by tomorrow."

He clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes as he reaches across, pinching the end of my pen.

"The captain isn't going to expect you to have written a whole report, plus thirty of those fuckers. You're not a machine, you need a rest." The blonde says to me, clear blue eyes fixed on mine, genuine care written into his expression.

"No, Cash-" I try to argue, only to be cut off as he takes my pen from me and stands from the table, coming round to my side.

"Yes, you're going to listen to me for once." He orders, almost sternly, helping me from my chair as I protest a little, unused to the friendly way he's behaving around me.

Shushing me, Gabe leads me over to the sofa at the far end of the break room, sitting me down before taking his place at the other side, which isn't so far given the small stature of the piece of furniture. Our legs are touching from our close proximity, but I'm too tired to do anything about it, simply enjoying his company instead, something I never thought would happen again.

"You know, (Y/n), we still make a good team." He murmurs after a minute or so, drinking from his beer as I turn my head to look at him.

"I guess so." I agree, thinking back to the arrest earlier today, as well as a few earlier on in our careers. Back when things were easier.

Gabe is clearly thinking the same as he sighs and turns to look at me, the two of us making eye contact properly for the first time in years, unspoken words passing between us as we gaze at each other. 

"I still wish things hadn't changed." He sighs wistfully, glancing away again, hand clenching the bottle. 

"Me too, honestly." I reply quietly, finishing my beer quickly as I settle back into the sofa, feeling sleep tugging at my mind, "It was nice having a partner."

"Yeah it was. Work gets lonely now." 

"Tell me about it." 

All is silent between us for a few more minutes, during which time I start to feel my eyelids drooping closed, my body relaxing comfortably into the soft cushions.

"Maybe one day we could work together again." He proposes, placing our bottles on the floor by our feet.

"Yeah, that would be nice." I agree, being totally genuine as I try my hardest not to drift off, "I miss you, Ca- Gabe."

At the sound of his name, Gabe looks over at me again, evidently noticing me half-asleep on the couch beside him. It takes him a moment, but it's not too long before I feel a lair of arms wrap around me. Eyes opening, I give him a questioning look as he pulls me closer to him, maneuvering us so he's got me cradled against his chest, leaning back against the arm of the sofa. If I wasn't so tired, I would've pushed him away, but as it is, it feels nice being held in his strong grip, his chest firm under my cheek and palms as I give in and nuzzle closer to him. His scent floods my nostrils, something in the mixture of old fast-food and hastily-used cologne comforting me as I feel a soft warmth spread through me. 

Too tired to argue, I relax into him, allowing him to lull me to sleep with gentle patterns on my back, his hair falling into my face as he leans forwards over me. Just before I drop off entirely, I feel him press a soft kiss to my forehead, his arms tightening around me as he hugs me to his body, muscles loosening underneath me.

I really have missed him.

[trillian-anders]

four christmases

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

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

word count: 16k

description: part 2 of 5. CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE FILM. you’ve been working for the thrombeys for four years now,the last three years of your service being a glorified babysitter to the most annoying, self-absorbed, dickhead hugh ransom drysdale. These are the four christmases you’ve spent with the thrombey/drysdale clan during your times of service. 

a/n: this story is brought to you by season 4 of schitt’s creek and maybe 12 cups of coffee. it felt like it took forever to write, but i’m happy to bring it to you. this is the follow up for my other ransom one-shot ‘the assistant’. i hope you guys like it! 

2018

What a fucking asshole. 

“You have to be there, it’s your job.” Ransom huffed indignantly. You rolled your eyes from the passenger seat of his beamer, tablet open in your lap as you scrolled through your sister’s amazon wishlist. 

“I have a family too Ransom. I can’t just abandon my own family on Christmas just because you can’t get along with yours.” His knuckles turned white against the gear shift. Nothing else mattered, only him it seemed, and his whining Mommy complex. 

“You were hired to assist me,” Ransom pulled into the drive of his house, tires crunching on the gavel, “So assist.” What a fucking tool. He quickly exited the car not looking behind him to see if you were following into the house, but leaving the front door wide open with the expectation that you were coming right behind. 

You had just hopped onto this assistant gig a few months ago. There you were minding your own business as fall began, working for a temp agency, when Linda Drysdale rang you up and asked you to come work for the family again. You had recently been tutoring one of the youngest of the clan, Meg, with her English coursework for her last school year. The pay was good and you were kind of let down when they opted not to keep you on after summer concluded. 

Babysitting Ransom paid well, better than it had been to help Meg out, but was it really worth the price? Ransom was a fucking child. You cooked his meals, washed his laundry, and were forced to tail him as he went about whatever business he deemed worthy of his days. Just until 9 pm, that’s all you had to do. Twelve hours a day, five days a week. Off Sundays and Mondays. 

It felt like too much and not worth the paycheck. Even if the trust-fund asshole spent his days flirting around from one party to the next. More often than not he found himself a body to bring home leaving you to get an uber back to his place just so you could get your car to go home, or worse yet having you sit awkwardly in the backseat of the car as whoever was in the passenger seat desperately tried to give him road head. 

He loved it. You know he did. Eyes flitting to yours in the rear-view mirror as a girl ten years younger than him fumbled with his belt. A fucking smirk on his face. You wanted to punch him, but your sister’s private school tuition held you back. 

You followed him into the house, one you had just spent the entire morning cleaning as Ransom slept off his hangover. The prick had dropped his coat on the floor adjacent to the coat hook, shoes haphazardly kicked off beside it, glaring at him as you picked them up while he drank orange juice straight from the carton. 

“I’ll pay you time and a half if you come.” He bartered. 

“You don’t pay me anything,” You scoffed. “Your Mom pays me.” 

“Exactly.” He tossed the carton back in the fridge, coming around the counter to get closer to you. He dropped his voice in what he probably thought was a seductive whisper. The fire it lit in your core would lead you to believe that it actually was a seductive whisper and you just fucking hated him. “I’ll make it worth your while.” He drug a finger down your cheek softly. It only caused you to roll your eyes, batting his finger away and stripping yourself of your coat you turned back to him, 

“I want triple.” 

Your sister was going to be pissed, but she’ll survive once she realizes you were able to get her a new laptop for school. A compromise. 

She cried. 

The Thrombey’s were probably the worst people you’ve ever met in your entire life. Harlan was prideful, pompous. He cared about his family, to an extent. He created them after all, his monsters. 

Linda was okay, but she was a lot like her father. She felt as though she was better than everyone else simply because she ‘built herself from the ground up’ yeah, if the ground was a million dollars gifted from Daddy. Her husband, Richard, was a glorified sugar baby, you were sure at one point he was a real estate broker, but Linda had the business, he just rode on her coattails. 

Walt was a whiny bastard. He was meek. He walked around with a cane and you weren’t sure he even needed it. It could totally be a ploy to try and gain more sympathy from his father. His wife was a drunk, you couldn’t remember her name, but it didn’t matter because she wouldn’t talk to you anyway. You can’t talk if you always have your mouth wrapped around the lip of a martini glass. Their son, Jacob, was a little alt-right shit. Every comment that came out of his mouth was a dig on some less privileged 99% and if you didn’t need this job you’d shove his head in the toilet yourself.

That leads you to Joni and Meg. Joni and Ransom had both been given an allowance every month. That’s the way they were mostly the same. How they differed was that Joni was at least attempting to have some sort of entrepreneur business where she gained some income, but not enough to live the lifestyle she was accustomed to. She had Meg in this expensive ass private school that cost more than your salary a month and Meg found this group of liberal women and now she was becoming the extreme opposite of Jacob. They often bumped heads, with Meg slowly giving in. She always gave in. This was her family and as much as she wanted to fight for the 99% she never actually wanted to be one. 

But it was fine. 

It didn’t really matter. 

You just wanted to go home. 

Ransom hasn’t had an empty hand all day thanks to you. “If I’m ever without a drink,” He said on the way over, “You’re walking home.” So this is where you’re standing, with Marta and Fran, you sipping on a weak mimosa that Marta had compromised on, waiting for the day to be over. 

Ransom’s eyes met yours from across the room, hand raising his glass, the last little mouthful swishing against its side. You sighed and rolled your eyes, turning to grab the decanter behind you, walking over to fill his glass. “So I told him to shove it up his ass,” Linda was telling Harlan a story, “If you think for one moment I would give in to anything less than market price you’re out of your mind.” Please love me, she was saying, please see that I’m the best child you have. Harlan’s eyes were dazed, not looking at hers. Thinking. He was always thinking. 

The only time Ransom didn’t need you was when he disappeared into his Grandfather’s office. Presents were handed out just before, new iphones, apple watches, macbooks, cartier bracelets, rolexes, a couple of little bonus checks to their allowances, the spirit of Christmas was definitely lost on this family. 

It doesn’t matter. 

You had just filled Ransom’s glass before he entered the study and you knew he wouldn’t need you until some kind of argument broke out with his Grandfather and you had to be ready to leave the house at a moment’s notice. 

“How’s it goin’ kid?” Richard always kind of made you uncomfortable. He seemed normal, but you were uncomfortable in a ‘this is a rich older white man who liked to corner you alone’ kind of way. For the most part he’s been harmless. 

One time, this was early on when you first started to tutor Meg, he found you in a similar way. Alone, in the kitchen. This was one of the first times he had met you and he was sure to let you know, “You’ve got a really pretty face, you know that?” Ew. Thanks? He had gotten close, too close. “How’d a pretty girl like you end up as a tutor?” That’s worse. And cheesy. This looked like one of those times, except he’d been drinking since 8 am. 

“I’m fine thanks.” You had been trying to find a minute of peace. There was always someone talking in this house, during ‘debates’ there were usually three or four. This was supposed to be a break. Ransom having been passed off to another wet nurse he could suck off of while you got some rest, and maybe sneak a couple of those expensive chocolate artisanal cookies for good measure. Richard grinned at you, not in the way Ransom would when he was fucking with you, but something more predatory. He was feeling ambitious. 

“I just wanted to give you this,” He slipped an envelope across the counter to you, hand resting on it, waiting for you to take it. As your hand met the envelope, he did the fucking worst thing he could possibly do in this moment, and took your hand. Your heart was racing and you felt wildly uncomfortable. He held your hand, taking a step into your space, body crowding yours against the counter. You stared him down, please just let me go. Please just fucking let me go. “How’s my son treating you?” He asked. What exactly did he think you were doing for his son?

“Fine.” You swallowed harshly. Please just let me go. You could smell the whiskey on his breath, face coming closer to yours. 

“If you ever need anything…” Closer and closer. You wished you could pull back completely, get out of this situation, but the vice grip he currently had on your hand was making it difficult. 

“Y/N.” Your eyes snapped over to the doorway, Ransom. His jaw was clenched, face flushed from what you were sure was an argument with Harlan. “We’re leaving.” Richard turned and smiled at his son, releasing your hand. You quietly slipped the envelope into your jeans pocket, backing yourself away from him, and joining Ransom across the room where his eyes hadn’t yet left his father. It wasn’t until you made it to the front door, grabbing your coat from the coat rack did he stomp his way out of the house, digging his car keys from his pockets. 

“Ransom I don’t think you should be driving-” You started, but he turned to you, eyes wild. This scared you. 

“Get in the car.” He demanded. Fuck, he’s drunk.

“Ransom you’re drunk, you can’t drive right now.” His eyes looked behind you and you turned to look at his family, peeking out through the curtains to watch the show. He quickly grabbed your arm, tugging you to the passenger seat, wrenching the door open and shoving you in, slamming the door behind you to circle around to the drivers side. “Just let me drive.” You pleaded. He slammed his own car door, revving the engine and quickly whipping the car out of the driveway. 

He wasn’t saying anything and Ransom always had something to say. 

“Ransom-”

“Shut the fuck up.” His knuckles were white against the wheel, eyes staring straight ahead as he began gaining speed. 

60 mph,

65 mph,

70…

“Slow down!” He was scaring you, these roads were winding and dark, his high beams only did so much and you weren’t sure how many deer you’d be seeing tonight. His foot was heavy on the accelerator. 

75

80

85

“Ransom please!” You cried. His breathing was heavy. His eyes were moving wildly left to right as he moved the wheel to turn.

90

95

100

You were going to die. This was it, this was the end. The car hit the open road, the interstate, and to the left of the on ramp you had just flew through was a cop. Their lights started flashing, red and blue filling the car as Ransom kept accelerating. It wasn’t late at night, probably around nine or so. There were other cars here as Ransom kept gaining speed, swerving in and out of traffic. “You’ve got to pull over!” You yelled at him.

105

110

115

“Ransom for the love of god, fucking stop!” His eyes looked in the rearview, two cops now. It was then he began to slow down, moving over to the side of the road, your heart still racing in your chest. You relax your fingers which you didn’t even realize was gripping Ransom’s bicep in a steel grip. Both of you breathing heavily inside the car. It wasn’t until the cop heavily banged on the window that either of you even moved. 

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to step out of the vehicle.” A bright flashlight in your face as you dug around for his registration and insurance in the glove box. Exiting the car and circling to the trunk as Ransom was handing the four cops bills from his money clip. Why the fuck did Ransom have a money clip full of hundreds? Ransom’s eyes met yours as he stuffed his money clip back in his coat pocket before tossing you the keys which you caught awkwardly. 

“Take me home.” 

You looked over at the cops who were getting back in their squad cars before quietly getting in the driver's seat and shutting the door. Your heart was still pounding and as the adrenaline began wearing off you suddenly grew very tired. 

“Drive.” You didn’t want to hear his voice. You never wanted to see his face again. You never even wanted to hear his name again. 

“You’re the fucking worst.” You could feel yourself crying. That was the most terrifying experience you’ve ever had in your life. 

“Well you’re fucking my father so,” He sunk down in his seat. “I think I have some competition.”

“I’m not fucking your father!” You exclaimed, hand hitting the steering wheel. You hear him scoff from the passenger seat.

“Not today since I walked in on you. Which is funny, you put on this whole show about not wanting to be around my family and what was it all for? A fucking ploy so I didn’t know.” Ransom didn’t fucking know how much of a goddamn idiot he was being right now. 

As the gravel crunched beneath the tires of the beamer, your argument continued. “I’m not fucking your father, I’ve never fucked your father, and I never will fuck your father.” He wasn’t hearing you. 

“Is this why Linda pays you so much?” He scoffed, exiting the car. He looked at you from over the roof and continued, “So you keep Richard out of her bed?” You hadn’t stopped crying. Still half going from fear and the other half from frustration. It was so goddamn cold out that the tears were freezing against your cheeks. 

“Ransom, I am not fucking your father!” You yelled, “The reason she pays me what she does is because the exact fucking thing you’re doing right now.” He rolled his eyes, walking up to the front door of his house, 

“Give me my keys.” 

“No.” You were still standing by the car, keys fisted in your hand. “You’re being a fucking asshole right now.” 

He clenched his fist, slamming it into the front door before turning back to you and yelling, “Give me my fucking keys Y/N.” You both looked at one another for a moment. 

You took a deep breath. “I have nothing to do with your father Ransom. My only job is to wait on you like a fucking servant and that is what I get paid to do. Not be your fucking punching bag when your family turns out to be a bunch of dicks-”

“Give me-”

“I’m not finished!” You screamed. Tears were still streaming heavily down your face and Ransom stood five feet away from you awkwardly letting you continue. “I don’t deserve this Ransom. I really fucking don’t. You literally almost just fucking killed me. So you’re going to say you’re sorry, you’re going to go into your fucking house, you’re going to give me what you promised me for even having to deal with this shit tonight, and you’re going to give me the rest of the week off.” 

It was silent for a moment. The two of you standing in the cold Massachusetts air in silence. Your face was starting to burn and as the silence stretched on you began to doubt everything you just said. Fuck this could cost you the job. The envelope Richard had handed you weighed heavily in your pocket. Hopefully it would be enough to hold you over until you could get back to the temp agency. 

Ransom let out a breath he had been holding, turning fully to you, and walking down the two steps of his porch. You flinched back away from him, looking at his knuckles that were split and bleeding from punching the door. His eyes met yours and he looked like he was debating something. 

“I’m sorry.” His words were soft and whispered, hand coming forward with an open palm, waiting for his keys. You gently gave them back to him. That soft, whispered, ‘I’m sorry’ stunned you. You didn’t expect your yelling to actually work. You expected to be fired. His keys jingled as he reached in his pocket and brought that money clip back out, extracting a bundle of hundreds and holding them out to you between two fingers. “Go home.” 

That was never spoken of again. The thing with Richard in the kitchen, being pulled over on 95, the screaming match that ensued, and nothing was ever said about the solid gold, $6,500 cartier bracelet that was by no doubt wrapped at the store that was waiting for you when you arrived back at work five days later. 

2019

“What did he do?” You were sweating. It was so fucking hot in here, but you were afraid to take off your coat. The fanfare in which the detectives had pulled up to your apartment complex was embarrassing, quickly bringing you down to the police station and shoving you in an interrogation room. 

“What did who do?” The man who had introduced himself as Lieutenant Elliot asked you. Shit. What the fuck did Ransom do? The death of Harlan Thrombey was sudden, right after his birthday just two weeks ago. It was unsettling, the suicide. The funeral was uncomfortable to say the least. Ransom told you to go and then didn’t go himself so you stood there like some weird interloper on the tails of everyone’s grief. 

You were going to throw up, you’ve never so much as gotten a speeding ticket but suddenly you had a kilo of coke on you and an unlicensed gun. “Where were you the night Harlan Thrombey committed suicide?” You picked at your fingernails. 

“I was at the party,” Your throat was so dry, you were afraid to touch the glass of water they had set before you, “I always feel strange around the family so unless Ransom needs me I try to hide out in the kitchen.” 

“You’re his assistant?” Elliot asked, “He doesn’t have a job, so what exactly do you assist with?”

“I’m pretty much his babysitter.” You explained, “I make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble…” It’s ironic right? You bit your bottom lip. “Why am I here exactly?” The other man in the room, Wagner, spoke up, 

“Hugh Drysdale has been arrested in the murder of Harlan Thrombey’s housekeeper.” Elliot gave him a dirty look. 

“Fran’s dead?” The shock was evident on your face. You leaned back in the uncomfortable metal chair, discarding your coat and scarf and taking a large mouthful of water. 

“You seemed surprisingly absent from Hugh’s side throughout the aftermath of Harlan’s suicide, why is that?” The third man spoke up from his spot sitting in the corner of the room, the thick southern accent was almost comical. 

“Ransom gave me time off,” You recalled, voice trailing off as you finish your sentence, “He said I could go to my sister’s cello recital…”  Did he really kill her? “Why would he kill Fran?” It made no sense. “I mean, he’s an asshole, but murder?”

They played a recording. Ransom in his own, self-righteous, pompous voice. Fuck me. What a fucking idiot. “So tell us where you were on the dates in question, spare no details.”

You had thought it strange, Ransom had left you stranded at the Thrombey house and you were forced to find your own way back to his house to get your car. It wasn’t at all strange that when you got to his house his car wasn’t there. You’d just assumed he’d gone out. It wasn’t uncommon for him to go out after finding arguments with his family. But the next day when he suggested that you take the week off, spend time with your sister, go to that recital you didn’t know he knew about, you checked his forehead with your wrist.

“Are you sick?” You had asked. He gently pushed your wrist off of his forehead, giving you a terse look. 

“Harlan committed suicide last night, the funeral is tomorrow, but after that you should take some time. I need some time.” Your heart broke a bit. Yeah Ransom and Harlan butt heads all the time, but they were practically the same person so it made sense to you that they would fight. Both prideful assholes. 

“I’m so sorry Ransom.” Should you hug him? You didn’t know. You two didn’t have any physical contact really. You’d never seen him hug anyone. So no, no hugs. “Is there anything I can do for you?” You opted to just gently lay your hand on his wrist. His eyes met yours for a moment, silence. 

“Just come to the funeral.” With that he stood up and walked away. 

That’s why it was so off-putting when the bastard didn’t even show up to the funeral and as you stood there with his sobbing family you figured next time you saw him you were going to spit in his coffee. 

“I haven’t seen him since the day before the funeral.” You admitted to the officers. “He asked me to go, and didn’t even show up.” 

“If we have any other questions we’ll let you know.” And you were released from questioning, but you had so many questions yourself. Arson? Fran? He attempted to murder Marta. Was this worth it? The fucking asshole never had to work for anything in his life, and even now as you stood in the courtroom waiting to see what bail would be set as so you could relay to Linda, you wanted to smack his pretty little face for being such a fucking idiot. 

A bailiff read out the case number and in walked Ransom. You’d never seen him in any outfit that cost less than your rent and here the bastard was, walking in with a black and white striped jumpsuit, the county jail logo stamped in red on the back.  You were the only person that showed up for him. Linda was half waiting for you to text her a dollar amount so she could pay his bail, the other half of her was debating on whether to leave him there or not. At least, that’s what she told you anyway. 

You could only imagine what you looked like to him. Your eyes were puffy and red from just crying in the parking lot for an hour in between getting questioned and coming to his hearing. Before that the detectives had taken you practically from your bed. But you were here, in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, coat pulled over the ratty thing, and snow boots on your feet. It started snowing this morning. 

His eyes caught yours as soon as he entered, but he quickly looked away. It was like a goddamn movie, his wrists cuffed to his waist, a chain leading down to the cuffs around his ankles. 

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone. 

A chill went down your spine, “Bail set at a million dollars.” And a gavel. Cameras clicking behind you. Thirty minutes later you were waiting for his release. You handed a dry cleaning bag with clothes to the officer at the front desk. 

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone. 

It wasn’t long before the secure, thick, metal door behind the metal detectors opened and Ransom was walking through it back to you. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, quickly circling to the desk to get his phone, wallet, and keys back. The garment bag was shoved back in your hands containing the clothes he was wearing when he was arrested, and then he was out the doors of the county jail, speed walking to your car. His was taken in as evidence. 

You used your key fob to unlock the car, Ransom wordlessly climbing in the passenger seat and slamming the door behind him as you settled in the driver’s. This was uncomfortable. You drove in silence for a minute, awkwardly leaning over to turn on the radio. The song only played for a second before Ransom leaned over, smacking the button to turn it off again. 

“Just say it.” He spat out at you. Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. 

“Say what, Ransom?” You were scared of him now and he could tell. He breathed harshly through his nose. You could feel his eyes on you. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I did it? Why I did it? Yell at me for being a fucking idiot?” He threw his hands up in frustration. There was a beat of silence more, “Say something.” 

“I don’t know what to say!” You really didn’t. What do you even say? You’ve been cursing him for a while. In your head. Cursing him since you left the interrogation earlier. You didn’t know what any of this meant for your job, if you’ll be able to keep your sister in school, if you’ll be able to even afford the apartment you two live in right now. And all because Ransom wasn’t getting anymore fucking money from his Grandfather the fucking prick. 

“Anything. Fucking say…” He leaned over in his seat, growing close to you. “Are you scared of me?” He smirked. Not in his, I’m playing with you and getting my way, smirk. And not in his, I’m making you weirdly uncomfortable and it really gets me off, smirk. But some sick sinister type of smirk that made your stomach roll. 

“You fucking murdered someone Ransom.” You said between clenched teeth. He studied you for a minute before settling back in his seat. Silence took over until you made it to the front door of his house. Lawyers should be coming by in about an hour to start working on his case, his parents should be here soon as well seeing as they were backing all of this. 

“You think I would hurt you?” Ransom asked as he stripped himself of his coat, purposefully letting it fall to the floor just so you’d have to pick it up. You left it there. He turned to look at you, still in the doorway of his house. “I killed Fran because I had to.” He spat. “It was for the bigger fucking picture. You want to be paid don’t you? You like having money right?”

“Your Mom pays me Ransom.” You stated calmly. His voice was escalating in volume as he continued.

“So fucking what? Who bought you that fucking coat, huh?” He was talking about the expensive wool coat you are currently wearing. He bought it for you after seeing that your old bubble coat had stuffing pouring out of the right pocket. You didn’t ask for it. “Who pays for your fucking phone, huh?” You had a month-by-month plan before. Ransom gifted you and your sister iphones sometime in the spring, saying that he needed to be able to reach you without having every call get dropped due to bad reception. Your sister’s was just because they were buy-one-get-one, or so he said. You didn’t ask for it. “And that fucking bracelet on your wrist too? Is my Mom buying you jewelry? Or just me and my fucking Dad?” He was still under the impression that something had gone on between you and his father apparently. 

“That’s it! I’m done.” You yelled back at him. “I fucking quit.”  You stripped the coat off your shoulders and tossed  it on the floor beside his watching his mouth snap shut. You wiggled the bracelet off your wrist and threw that down on top of it before slipping your phone out of the side pocket of your yoga pants and throwing that on the pile. “I’ll mail Julia’s phone back to you.” You still hadn’t stepped foot inside the house, turning to walk back to your car when Ransom’s thundering footsteps could be heard behind you. 

Fuck he was going to kill you. 

It had continued to snow throughout the morning, the soft white stuff still falling heavily from the sky as you rushed to your car, you had to get away. You didn’t make it far before Ransom’s arms wrapped around your body from behind, tugging you tightly to his chest. You let out a loud scream before he covered your mouth with his hand. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He whispered quickly into your ear. “Please stop, I’m sorry.” His large body was bent over your back as you were crouched over trying to get him to release you, both of you breathing heavily as you settled against him. “Y/N I’m sorry.” He slowly started walking the two of you back toward the house, “I’m not gonna hurt you!” He shouted as you tried to bite his hand. He uncovered your mouth, arms loosening. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” He repeated a little more calmly. 

He brought you back into the house, shutting the door softly behind him. You wanted to leave, eyes tearing up. What the fuck were you supposed to do now? Ransom stood for a moment with his back against the door before peeling the wet socks off of his feet. You hadn’t realized that he took his shoes off when he originally came in. His feet were bright red from the cold. You glanced to your left at the knife block there, slowly backing away. 

“No, no, no, I’m not going to hurt you.” He sunk down to his knees. He looked like a fucking idiot, face flushed from the cold, kneeling in front of the door. He slowly made his way over to you, not rising from his knees, shuffling forward with his hands open and facing you. Your heart was racing as he stopped at your feet, slowly moving his arms to wrap around your waist, burying his face in your ratty old college sweatshirt. 

He was hugging you. Actually hugging you, on his knees, face turned into your belly. You could have sworn he whispered, “Please don’t go.” But you couldn’t be sure. 

A pot of coffee was made, coats picked up, and floor mopped before the lawyers and his parents arrived. The only evidence of your earlier fight was the absence of the cartier bracelet you refused to put back on. It sat heavily in Ransom’s pants pocket. Their discussion was loud in the living room and no one looked up as you lay the coffee and finger foods on the coffee table, Ransom’s cup unmade for him out of spite. As you turned to make your way back to the kitchen, Richard’s hand shot out to grab you harm, halting your movements, 

“Grab me some Macallan for me, would you sweetheart?” Your eyes flit over to Ransom, who’s jaw twitched, sharing a look with you before looking back to his lawyers and mother. 

This was none of your business, but you needed to know what your future was going to look like. Were you out of a job? If Ransom went to prison there would be no one to babysit. So yeah, you would be. He admitted on tape to arson and murder. Pre-meditated arson was minimum of 10 years, Murder was 30 years. He’s looking at at least 40 years in prison. He would be an old man before he was even allowed parole. 

The group grew silent, or you couldn’t hear them as you started dinner for that evening. You were sure the four of them would be staying. “Y’N, would you come here please?” That was Linda. 

You made your way over to the group, shuffling nervously in your wool socks. “Yes Mrs. Drysdale?” Linda smiled, 

“It’s back to Thrombey now, but that’s another issue.” Hmmm. “If I was willing to pay you…. Say four times what you’re making now, would you take Ransom’s house arrest? That is, if we are able to work the judge down to that.” 

“House arrest?” You looked to Ransom confused, he wasn’t meeting your eyes. “Murder and Arson-”

“The only proof they have is the recording, the only thing they’re going to be able to pin on Mr. Drysdale here would be the attempted murder of the nurse.” A chill went down your spine, 

“You tried to kill Marta too?” You asked Ransom, incredulously. He didn’t respond, popping a cube of cheese into his mouth. His lawyers made you uncomfortable, they were definitely sleazy and you knew money could get you far in the justice system. If that recording was 75% of the evidence against Ransom and it was suddenly and accidentally destroyed, they would only have what was actually witnessed. 

“Well, would you?” Linda asked again. 

“I uhm… I have a sister who lives with me, I can’t just-”

“I’m sure there’s someone else who can take care of her. How long would it be for?” She looked to the lawyers, “Two or three years?” This was impossible. You couldn’t. Linda looked back at you. “How about this…” She leaned over and clasped your hands softly. “We will pay for your sister’s school, her housing, everything she needs while you’re doing this for us, and you’ll still get paid what I originally offered.”

“If Ransom gets house arrest?” You asked. 

“Yes ‘if’.” She was selling it hard. Julia could stay with your aunt. She didn’t live far from where the two of you currently reside. The majority of your income went to her school, books, clothes, rent, and groceries. Having all of that taken care of would mean you’d be getting four times your current salary and not having to spend any of it. Just for a couple years. 

“If Ransom gets house arrest,” you looked over at him, his eyes briefly meeting yours, studying you it felt like, “If he does, I will do what you need me to do. But I don’t even know how-” Linda’s hands quickly released yours. 

“We will figure that out when the time comes,” Linda has a shit eating grin on her face, “Write up a contract.” Directed at the lawyers, “Now, how are we going to get our hands on that recording?” That’s it. You were dismissed until they needed you again. 

“Why would you do that?” Ransom asked you. Everyone had left a little bit ago, you were busy washing the dishes, knowing as soon as this task was finished you’d be able to go home and this day from hell would be over. 

“Do what?” There was a piece of cheese melted on the side of the casserole dish that wouldn’t fucking come off. 

“Agree to take my punishment?” You paused in your scrubbing, 

“That’s if they actually settle on house arrest.” You finally unwedged the cheese, rinsing off the casserole dish and placing it in the dishwasher. 

“Hmpf.” Ransom had been cold and distant since he burrowed his head into your belly. Has to make up for his extreme weakness then. “But why?” He asked again.

You turned to him, eyes staring directly into his. You watched him fiddling with the gold bracelet you had taken off earlier, it was in his hand down by his side. “It’s what you said earlier right?” You scoffed, removing the rubber gloves from your hands and throwing them in the sink. You walked closer to him, not breaking eye contact. “Because I need the fucking money.” 

The two of you didn’t talk for the rest of the weekend. Usually there was texting here and there, ‘Where are my grey socks, the ones I usually wear with the navy Ralph Lauren slacks?’ or ‘Next week when you meal prep for my weekend can you make me this?’ with a link to a recipe. ‘Pick me up a pack of magnums on your way in.’ Fuck you. 

You got him regular Trojans. 

Monday was Christmas luckily enough, and you knew you weren’t going in. Ransom didn’t even text you to see where you were. His account was rapidly depleting funds, you checked every once in a while. 

234.72 ETRN-STD

523.50 DRNK

435.62 HAWTHNE

The list went on. Multiple spots a day over the weekend. That’s who he was going to be now, the old fucking white dude who sits at a bar all day hitting on girls uncomfortably too young. How many giggling 18 year olds would you kick out crying and screaming the next day? Disgusting.  

“Do you have them?” Them meaning the cookies that were currently at the bottom of your reusable Aldi bag. Your sister, Julia, was off to your right, setting a pot with water on the stove to boil. It was Christmas, just the two of you, and with the aftermath of everything that was going on with the Thrombey/Drysdale clan, you were happy to get some time off to relax. You might even push it so that you wouldn’t have to work tomorrow. We’ll see if Ransom texts you. 

“Of course I do.” This bag has been in your closet all weekend. There’s a bakery near your apartment that your Mom would take you to all the time, every time you got an A, won a game, gotten an award. Everything they made reminded you of her, and it was something you craved more than anything. Every Christmas they would make these fresh baked cookie packs with all kinds, chocolate chip, double chocolate chunk, snicker doodle, gingerbread, white chocolate macadamia, chocolate and peanut butter. 

Every Christmas, after dinner, you and your sister would slouch in front of the TV with scalding hot cups of hot chocolate and devour almost the whole box. Every year except last year when at the time your sister was home alone watching The Grinch you were in a car with Ransom going over a hundred miles an hour and scared for your life. This Christmas, Ransom would not be getting between the two of you, food was cooking, lights in the living room were dimmed. The tree was all lit up and the presents you had exchanged earlier that morning sat unwrapped beneath it. 

Christmas music was playing softly on the tv as you heard someone knock on your front door. 

“Coming!” You yelled. It wasn’t uncommon for a neighbor to have forgotten something, sugar, butter, milk, that they needed for dinner. It wasn’t uncommon for you to answer your door without looking through the peephole. What was uncommon was Ransom Drysdale standing sheepishly on the other side. His cheeks, nose, and eyes were red. The cheeks and nose from the cold, the eyes probably from the alcohol you could smell on him. You sighed heavily, feeling a headache coming on, “What are you doing here?” 

“Bar called me an uber and I didn’t want to go home.” He explained quickly, words slurring slightly. 

“Your parents-”

“Fuck my parents!” He yelled, you quickly shushed him, looking down the halls to see if anyone was peeking out into the hallway. “Fuck my parents.” He said quietly. 

“Ransom…” You sighed, stepping out into the hall, closing the door softly behind you. “What do you want?” His eyes were glazed, he shrugged dumbly, swaying forward. “Okay big guy,” I guess this is happening, “Come on.” You quietly ushered him inside, shutting the door softly behind you. 

“Who is it? Oh, woah.” Julia’s eyes bugged out of her head, shifting over to you. ‘Murderer’ she mouthed. 

“Go set the table.” You ushered Ransom over to the small table that could barely seat the two of you let alone a third, quickly brewing a pot of coffee and keeping an eye on your sister who was scared to get to close to him. “He’s harmless Julia.” You reassured her, or were you reassuring yourself so that you didn’t feel like such a bad guardian, letting a murderer into your home. He was past angry drunk Ransom, which is probably why the bar kicked him out, he was sad Ransom right now. You’d never seen him cry but this was probably the closest you were going to get to it. He was quiet, sat in the chair just staring as you and your sister finished dinner. 

You poured him a cup of coffee and a glass of water, hoping to sober him up enough that you could safely send him home later on. The three of you sat down to eat. Ransom staring listlessly out the window. You made him a plate and told him to eat. And he did. You told him to finish his water. And he did. You told him to finish his coffee. And he did. This was almost terrifying. He hadn’t said anything since ‘fuck my parents’, and he looked dead on his feet. 

“Send him home,” Your sister pleaded. The man hadn’t moved. Cleanup had already started and finished, he was still nursing the third glass of water you’d given him. Cookies were warming in the oven. His eyes were less glassy now. He was slowly sobering up. The large helping of mashed potatoes and three bread rolls he ate didn’t hurt either. 

“He’s my boss, I can’t really kick him out.” You explained, “Let me get him sober enough that I know he’s okay and then he’ll go home.” She rolled her eyes at you, stirring the pot of hot chocolate on the stove, adding more chunks of chocolate to melt. Ransom, still unspeaking, didn’t protest when you moved him into the living room, setting him up in the recliner with his own cup of hot chocolate and three cookies, before snuggling down with your sister and watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas. You moved only once when he tapped the mug against your arm. 

More.

“I’ve never done anything.” He said. “Never went to college, barely graduated high school.” He was rambling to himself, maybe to you? “I’ve spent the entirety of my adult years inside someone’s cunt.” 

“Alright, Julia. Time for bed.” You ignored her whining protests. The movie wasn’t over yet. “Please?” You begged her. She hated Ransom. You knew this. She knows you know this. ‘All he does is take you from me.�� is what she once said to you. Just to treat you like shit. 

“I have no money.” Ransom’s eyes met yours. “None.” 

“I know Ransom.” He scoffed. 

“I’m no better off than you now.” 

“You still have your house. I’d say you are still better off.” You started cleaning up around him, letting the asshole sit in his self-pity. 

“C’mere.” It was a quiet request. The Grinch was packing up his sleigh in the background. You dropped the two mugs you were holding onto the counter, circling back to the recliner. Ransom’s hand came out soft, wrapping around your forearm and gently guiding you to sit in his lap.

“Ransom, I don’t think this is appropriate.” You tried to pull away, heartbeat beginning to pick up. His still bloodshot eyes raised to meet yours. 

“Please hold me.” Fuck. What were you supposed to do with that? Heart melting you sunk into his lap, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in tight. It was quiet for a while. Sitting with the credits rolling, Ransom’s arms wrapped around your waist while yours were wrapped around his shoulders. Comforting him from whatever crisis he was currently going through. 

“Marta ruined everything” He whispered into your neck. 

“No Ransom, you did.” 

2020

The trial, fuck me, the trial. The whole fucking family showed to watch Ransom crash and burn and get exactly what he deserved. Well that and to stare down Marta Cabrera who sat with the prosecution in some shiny new digs, a stunning gold cartier bracelet on her wrist. That was familiar. Ransom’s cheap bought apology. There was a tension there, you knew. He always had a thing for ‘the help’. You wondered if that’s where he had been this past week. But it’s strange isn’t it? This whole situation. It was unsettling and for some reason you felt irreversibly used.  

“I knew the knife was a prop.” And that was that. Audio recording gone, attempted murder charge whittled down to aggravated assault. A slap on the wrist. Two years of house arrest. And here you were, in Ransom’s home with a fucking house arrest bracelet making your ankle itch. Unfucking believable. Ransom had sat in the courtroom, head raised, armani suit, legs crossed and body relaxed. He knew he was getting out of this from the minute he walked in. 

The Thrombey trial that was supposedly going to last three months only lasted a week. You still had a job, and in a remarkable turn of events Linda Drysdale and their legal team got exactly what they predicted. 

“I’m going out.” Was the first thing Ransom told you as you unpacked your clothes. He had half thought to buy you a bed and a small dresser that he haphazardly got someone to shove between his Pam Anderson Baywatch poster and the unplugged Space Invaders original arcade console. This was a 90s teenage boy’s dream bedroom. And now it was yours. He didn’t give you much time to respond and he was gone. 

They say that you never really know someone until you live with them. And you’ve never felt that saying more true. Ransom was a fucking asshole. 

During your previous employment schedule you would come in at 9 am with breakfast and let him know of anything he needed to do that day, if his Mom needed him for whatever reason, events his was scheduled to go to, dates he promised he’d keep. He’d let you know what to cancel and what he would get ready for, and then you were off. Cleaning and maintaining the home to the best of your ability, binge watching tv shows, trying new recipes from pinterest. 

Ransom was disgusting. 

Clothes discarded all over his floor, bedroom, living room, hallways. Beard trimmings all over the sink and what you would hopefully assume were more beard trimmings lining the bottom of his shower. You really didn’t want to think about Ransom’s pubic hair situation. He would do things like take his coffee mugs into his room or into the study and leave like a sip left in each one, letting it sit there until the milk began to curdle. Wet towels shoved into corners and every morning when you went in to make his bed it was like he was running in his sleep, loose and fitted scrunched in the corner of the foot board, duvet thrown off and pillows with half off shams. 

He was doing this shit on purpose. 

And you hated him for it. 

It wasn’t long after the trial that he began a steady routine. Gym, breakfast, some puttering around the house, making plans and then he would go out. And that’s when we come to this, 

“He said he would be back and we would have breakfast together.” The girl was pretty, but her voice was annoying. 

“I’m one hundred percent sure he did not say that.” You stood with arms crossed in the doorway, watching her fix her face in the mirror propped against his bedroom wall. An old antique thing that didn’t match with the decor of the house at all. 

“Hmpf.” She glared at you, “Fine, when he gets back, we’ll see who is right.” This was before you became practiced at this kind of thing. 

You felt your phone buzz in the pocket of your jeans, 

Is she gone yet? 

Fucking prick. 

“I’ll have him call you when he gets in,” You explained, “He has a lot to do today, I’m sure if he said you’ll go out for breakfast it’ll probably be another day.” 

“I said.” She stepped up to you, “I’m staying.” Fuck. You rolled your eyes and walked past her into the room, 

Not leaving, come deal with her yourself

He had been waiting down the street like a psycho, waiting to see her leave so he can come back home, but it’s not really working out in his favor. You could feel her eyes on you as you made the bed and picked his laundry up from the floor, tossing them two feet away into the laundry basket you left in his bathroom in hopes he would actually use it. The socks left discarded beside it was a clear message of disregard, a ‘fuck you’ from a petulant child. 

You could hear the door slam downstairs. Great, you looked at the girl who was scrolling through her phone curled up in the reading chair in the corner of his room, he’s pissed. You could hear his stomping feet climb the stairs and the girl looked up from her phone hopeful towards the door. 

“Alright, time to go.” He huffed, coming into view. The girl stood from the chair, shifting over towards him and trying to wrap her arms around his neck. “Nope. Let’s go, your uber is here.” 

“But, I-” She began, you could see tears welling up in her eyes and you began to feel bad for her. 

You were never one to have one night stands. You had one serious boyfriend when you were in college, but when your Mom got sick you had ended it and moved back home. You hadn’t dated or been with anyone else since. You just didn’t have the time. That being said, this girl honestly thought Ransom had a heart. She was naive and young, younger than you. Your heart hurt for her, but honestly, no one should be with Ransom anyway. 

His birthday dinner had soon come and gone. Linda and Richard sat around the dinner table eating Ransom’s favorite foods you’d spent the day cooking for him. Drinking whiskey and wine, Ransom’s glass never empty. You’d had a few glasses yourself with the tapas style dinner you’d put together. A beautifully iced spice cake sitting on the counter with unlit candles for dessert. 

This was the night that Ransom blew up on you for the last time. The night he cried into your neck, drunk and unstable. Clutching desperately at your body for comfort, burying himself against you all touch starved and needy. This was more intense than last Christmas where his dry eyed stare begged you to hold him in an uncommon moment of weakness. 

He was so hard to read sometimes and you were never quite sure where you stood. You knew you really hated him sometimes, other times… not so much. The more you knew his parents, the more you understood why Ransom was an ungrateful shit to begin with. You almost couldn’t blame him for how he turned out.

Almost. 

“Help me with this.” He stood in the doorway to the small office he never used. It was pretty much just for show. A large wooden ornate desk, his macbook, and a bookshelf full of books you know he probably never read. Including the ones penned by his own Grandfather. 

There were beginnings here. Multi-colored post its lined the desk, laptop left on the seat of one of the chairs in the room. 

“What is this?” You asked him, fingers plucking a post-it from the desk,

Crime of Passion?

He had been watching a lot of true crime documentaries lately. It didn’t help but creep you out. This man, a murderer, suddenly extremely into serial killers and murder itself. 

“I’m going to write a book.” He explained. His face was in a grin, almost giddy. 

“A book.” You looked at him incredulously. Your eyes drifted over to Harlan’s novels sitting stacked on another chair, spines finally cracked and pages thumbed through, sticky tabs stuck throughout the pages. You pointed to them, “A book?”

“Yeah,” He gestured around to the post-its, “What do you think?” It’ll keep him busy that’s for sure. You sighed, sticking the post-it back on the desk and looked at him. He was waiting, expectantly, why did he care what you thought about this?

“Is it gonna be about Fran?” You asked awkwardly, he scoffed,

“No, I’m gonna write books like my Grandfather wrote,” He plucked a post-it from the desk, showing you,

Wife murders husband?

“I’m gonna write a mystery novel.” 

He was good. You couldn’t lie about that. And you wouldn’t. This was a strange thing. The routine changed. Gym, breakfast, writing, lunch, writing, dinner, and then he would go out. His mind was moving faster than his fingers could and you were left reading a new chapter or two every night. You’d once loved Harlan’s novels. Your Mother was obsessed with them. It was partially why you had even taken the job tutoring Meg in the first place, but you know what they say. Never meet your heroes. 

Harlan was kind in some ways, funny, but proud. His pride is what eventually killed him you’ve found out. The medicine Ransom had switched wasn’t his cause of death, his refusal for help was. 

Ransom was as good as he was, better even. 

“He’s got a lot of me in him,” Harlan said to you once, “He could have everything I’ve ever had if he would pull his head out of his ass.” 

This was promising. 

You were honestly afraid when Ransom first said he would be writing a novel. What if he wasn’t a good writer? Could you really lie and try to support him even though it was absolute garbage? You supposed you would have to. You were relieved to find out that it was unnecessary. 

He slipped a red pen into your hand when handing you this last chapter, the book almost finished. “I want to see how you react to everything,” He explained, the book was coming to the climax, you were a chapter away from the big reveal and the aftermath, his hands gently massaged your shoulders before he bent at the waist, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you sat on the sofa. “Do you like it?” His hot breath brushed against your ear, a tingle went down your spine. 

“Ransom,” Your hand came up to lay over his forearm, brushing the skin with your thumb, “It’s amazing.” You could almost feel the grin that stretched across his face, he turned, pressing his face into your hair where you could swear he laid a soft kiss before releasing you. 

“Of course it is,” Here we go, “I’m a fucking Thrombey.” His fucking smirk. That's what he left you with, returning to his office to pound out the last two chapters. 

It was a process. The editing, printing, shipping off to multiple publishers. He got replies after a month. 

Eager replies. 

Whatever Ransom wanted, Ransom got. The lucky bastard stayed lucky.

“Look Babe.” Ransom dropped a heavy box on the table in front of you, “Look at this shit.” He grabs a knife from the block on the counter, slipping it under the packing tape to open the box revealing glossy black covers. He first fucking novel. There. Printed. A picture of a fireplace, chair facing it, empty. A blood soaked carpet. He picked one from the box, opening it. And there in the forward, the dedication, Harlan’s name…

...and yours. 

“Don’t get all big headed about it kid.” He smirked. Your heart was racing in your chest. 

“Why would you…” Your fingers gently traced the letters of your name, there in print, as it would be on every copy sold. 

“Wouldn’t have been able to write it without you being chained to my house, only seems fair.” He shrugged. “We can call it even.” You scoffed,

“Dedicating your book to me hardly makes my doing your house arrest for you even Ransom.” He smirked again, flipping through the pages, seeing his words in bold print. 

“I think it’s plenty fair,” Okay, now you wanted to smack him, “You live here for free, you eat here for free, and you get paid pretty well to do so.” His devilish eyes met yours over the top of the book he was still thumbing through. “If anything you’re still ahead because you’re the kept woman of a bestselling author.” 

“A kept woman?” You dropped the book onto the table. “I’m not your fucking whore Ransom.” 

“Not yet.” Audibly you made noise of protest, internally your core thrummed with heat. 

“Never.” You packed up your tablet and the new book, attempting to walk around him to go sit out by the fire pit for a while. His large hand gently grabbed your upper arm, tugging you into his body, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, your arms trapped between you.

“Tell me you’re proud of me.” He whispered into your hair, his voice suddenly soft, heartbreaking. 

“I am proud of you Ransom.” You shifted your belongings to your left hand, tugging your right from against his chest to wrap around his torso. “I’m very proud of you.” 

Book published, royalties rolling in, Ransom was making his own money now. He was more cocky than ever. Proud. The, I-don’t-need-you-anymore-mom, attitude. But can you still pay my babysitter? The girls came more easily than ever before, not that they didn’t come easy before the bestseller. 

Every. Night. 

Sometimes two girls were leaving in the morning, gently ushered out the door with promises of a phone call and a, “I’ll let him know.” It made you feel dirty, betraying almost. Like you were supposed to be on these girl’s side instead of cleaning up after Ransom’s mess. 

You could gag. The milky condoms, two of them, tossed haphazardly aside on the hardwood floor of Ransom’s bedroom. Disgusting. You could hear him laughing at you now. 

“It could be you,” He says, “Just say the word.” If you weren’t so irritated with Ransom for this very thing your panties would be dripping with the thought. 

He’s sitting at the kitchen island forking soft scrambled eggs into his mouth, cheesy with peppers and onions, the way he likes them, the way you made them, when you come downstairs. “You could at least throw the condoms in the fucking trash Ransom.” He looked up from his eggs to you, peeling off the latex gloves you’d just used, smirking. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Asshole. 

“You’re disgusting.” You begin on the dishes, taking a sip of your now lukewarm coffee. You hear the stool scoot back against the floor, “That wasn’t an invitation.” You said, hearing his approach. His arms wrapped around your middle as you began to scrub. His head rested on your shoulder. 

“You love me.” He slowly rocked your body side to side, “You love how disgusting I am.” You tried to shrug him off of you, but he held you tighter. Since last Christmas when you curled up in his lap and held him for two hours until he was sober enough to leave you he’d been slowly getting more and more affectionate with you. He was touch starved, hungry for it. The intimacy of holding and being held. 

You didn’t picture Linda as much of a hugger.

The house was decorated. It was the least he could do for you really. This was the first Christmas since your Mother died that you and your sister wouldn’t be completing your tradition, but you tried not to think about it. Ransom humored you just after Thanksgiving, bringing home a fake Christmas tree, ornaments and lights. You’d ordered a couple of extras online and three stockings were on the mantle, Christmas lights lined the windows giving the house a warm glow. 

“I’m sending everyone in my family a copy.” He told you, “a signed copy.” Of his book. Rubbing their noses in it. The book has firmly held the number one spot on the New York Times Bestseller List for weeks. Already over a million copies have been sold. Whether its due to the fame of the not-murder trial or Harlan’s legacy you couldn’t be sure, but even without those things the book was incredibly good. 

Ransom could have made it on his own, a long time ago. 

“You don’t think that’s a little crass?” He released you long enough for you to finish loading the dishwasher, watching you place the pod of soap and shut it like he didn’t realize that’s actually what you’re supposed to do. 

“Fuck them,” He scoffed, “They’ve always hated me.” 

“To be fair,” You turned to the soft sweater clad man leaning against the kitchen island, “You’re an asshole.” 

He smirked, “Yeah, but that’s why I’m so charming.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. 

It could almost be domestic. The way things were now. So different from before. Yeah Ransom was still bringing a new girl home almost every night and sure you could hear them fuck from your bed on the other side of the wall, but for the most part it was always just the two of you. 

His parents never ventured out here much anymore, since his book was published he had a deadline for the next book that needed to be completed so he wrote almost every day now, sometimes for hours. You made his every meal, on the odd occasion you’d order out. Sometimes when he needed a break he would come sit on the sofa with you as you watched whatever show you were currently obsessed with. One time you walked in on him watching Love Island by himself and you hadn’t let him live it down yet, maybe not ever. 

He grew soft, sweet almost. A kiss against your palm. Hugs from behind as you worked at the stove. A snuggle of feet under his thigh as you watched Miracle on 34th Street by a crackling fire. Wordlessly anticipating each others needs. It spoke to a high level of intimacy. Something you both chose to ignore. 

It was nice. 

He didn’t go out on Christmas Eve. Not only because his usual bar was closing earlier than normal because of the holiday, he assured you, but because he wanted to stay in. Snow was falling thick outside, a foot of it already blanketed on the ground. To tell the truth you didn’t want him to go out in this weather anyway. You knew he was willing to drive a little drunk and he didn’t exactly obey speed limits. It was safer here. 

You were still reeling from the argument you had with your sister earlier in the night. You called her to see what she was doing, but she was at a friends house and wanted nothing to do with you. Since the house arrest you haven’t exactly been on speaking terms. She wasn’t Ransom’s biggest fan and didn’t really understand why you needed to do this. You could kind of blame it on yourself for her having no idea how much money you needed to keep her in school, her cello and lessons weren’t cheap and nor are the electronics she seemed so attached to. This two year sentence you were playing out for Ransom would put you in the green, far in the green, so far in the green that you were willing to put up with all his petty bullshit and be okay with your sister hating you if it meant your futures were secure. 

After all this was over, you might just be able to go back to school. 

“Are you hungry?” You removed your feet from their spot beneath his thigh, grabbing both of your now empty mugs, padding over to the kitchen. Your stomach had just begun to growl. The stew you had simmering on the stove was ready to eat. 

“Yeah,” Ransom replied, not turning away from the television. Santa’s trial had just began. It was a strange thing, having him watch classic Christmas movies, soft in sweats and a comical christmas sweater you jokingly bought him. “I look good in anything.” He said. He wasn’t lying. 

You poured two bowls full, bringing over a plate with some crusty bread he was kind enough to go out and grab for you earlier in the day. “Thank you,” He said softly as he took the bowl from your hands, eyes still not moving from the screen. He quickly spooned some into his mouth, 

“It’s hot.” You said, his only reaction being trying to rapidly cool it in his mouth, his tongue probably burned. He gave you a glare, before resting the bowl on the coffee table. This could almost be a relationship. The two of you together. In this oddly domestic moment. He was the only man in your life right now, it wasn’t like you had many options for seeking others. 

That’s why you would get so hot and bothered with him. And that’s the only reason. 

He had never seen A Miracle on 34th Street before. You’d think with how old fashioned Harlan was he would have at least seen it once or twice, but then again, any time spent together as a family was always strained and argumentative. 

Even when he was a kid though? He was the first grandchild. His mother was the first child of Harlan. You were sure when he was a child he was spoiled rotten, more toys than he could play with, never wanting for anything. But that wasn’t exactly true. The touch starved trust-fund baby didn’t get the one thing kids need the most, more than presents, toys, electronics. Real genuine love. 

His Mother loved him to an extent. It’s why you were the one on house arrest instead of him, but she thought loving him meant giving him whatever he wants. When we all know that’s not what kids want. They want to be told no, given structure, rules. How many times have you gotten into arguments with your sister because you didn’t allow her to go roam the streets at night without supervision or give her money for some stupid thing she wouldn’t be even bothered with in two weeks?

But you could also see how no one really knows how to raise a child and you just try your best. Having Harlan for a Father couldn’t have been easy. 

Under the tree that you’d decorated and in the stockings you’d hung were presents. Ransom had everything he’d ever wanted, but you couldn’t help but want him to have something to open tomorrow morning. Granted it wouldn’t be much, but it’s the thought that counts. In the fridge you already have most of what will go into tomorrow’s dinner made. Hopefully your sister thinks about your extended invitation and Ransom can go pick her up at some point tomorrow. You missed her, a lot. Your heart ached with wishes that she was here right now. 

Ransom’s eyes had gotten shifty. The movie was coming to an end and his bowl was empty. “Did you want more?” You asked him, thinking that would be the cause of his shiftiness, maybe indecisive? 

“No.” He cleared his throat, “I’m not going to be home for dinner tomorrow.” You weren’t sure you heard that properly.

“You’re not going to be home….” You started, picking his bowl up from the coffee table and standing, “For dinner on Christmas?” 

He was scared to tell you, that’s cute. Your body was bristling with anger as you took the stew off the stove to cool before you could properly store it. He didn’t move from his spot on the couch. 

“My Mother wants me to go to this dinner with-” 

“So every other time your Mother wants you to do something it’s ‘fuck you’ and ‘eat shit’, but when we’ve already made plans for tomorrow and my sister-” You felt tears prickle in your eyes. “What the fuck Ransom?” His face was stoic from the couch. 

“Why does it matter?” He asked, “I stayed home tonight!”

“And that makes up for it?” You stood at the kitchen counter, staring across the room at him. “I already started on dinner, Ransom. You couldn’t have maybe said something while I was prepping all of this?” You gestured to the fridge. He shrugged. 

“I didn’t know that was all for tomorrow.” His face still betrayed no expression. 

“She can come here,” You offered, “We can have dinner here.” His eyes shifted away from yours to watch the rolling credits. 

“She doesn’t want to.” He stood from the couch, rounding towards the tree slowly, searching. 

“Why not?” He was being shady about this, the whole situation was strange. “I already have all of this food prepared and I can’t pick up Julia myself… Ransom?” 

“She doesn’t like being around you.” He stated honestly, he picked a box out among the presents under the tree, eyes meeting yours as he fumbled with it. 

“What?” You get it. She’s technically your employer. But she’s never had any issue dropping in for dinner or putting you to work on some task for herself. 

“Listen,” He came closer to where you still stood, your chest tightening. “Y/N, I hate my family-”

“Then why are you going to-”

“I have to do this.” His cheeks were flushed, you could tell he was uncomfortable. “My therapist… I don’t want to do this.” He slid the box across the counter top. “I don’t want to go, but I have to.” 

“Is this supposed to make me feel better about it?” You scoffed, picking up the gold wrapped box. His mouth opened and then quickly shut without speaking. You sighed heavily, a headache coming on. “I’ve got nothing, Ransom. All I wanted to do tomorrow was spend some time with my family and if you’re not going to be around…” 

“I know, I can maybe go pick your sister up in the morning?” He offered. Your eyes watery, staring at him. He doesn’t get it. Your heart was aching a bit. 

“You’re such an asshole.” You spat, leaving the present still wrapped in front of you, thumbing the thick wrapping paper. 

“I know.” He swallowed. 

“What does your therapist want you to do?” You never talked about what went on in his therapy sessions. He was too closed off after them, drank too heavily, lashed out too easily. You’d let him slowly work through his refractory period and let him cozy up to you once he was feeling better. 

Ransom felt awkward, you could feel it. He was uncomfortable. 

“Why does this matter so much to you?” He asked. He was turning. He got too emotional. “It doesn’t matter what I have to do or where I have to do it. I said I would go pick Julia up, I’m giving you what you want.” 

“Fine.” You were staring each other down. “I’ll let her know you’ll be there to get her around noon and then you can go have dinner with the people you hate.” He rolled his eyes, 

“I don’t know what you think this is, Y/N.” He scoffed, “You still work for me, we’re not playing house here.” 

“Then stop making me.” You spat back at him, both of you in a similar stance, hands gripping the edge of the stone counter top. 

“I’m not making you do anything.” There was a rage growing in his eyes. 

“You are, Ransom. I take care of you like you’re my own fucking child. I clean up all of your messes, I cook all of your fucking food, I do everything for you.” 

“I don’t ask you to.”

“You don’t have to! You literally just expect it of me.” You yelled. 

“Because it’s your job.” He laughed, throwing his hands into the air. “I have no loyalty to you Y/N. None.” Fine.

Fine.

You hated him. You fucking hated him. You were doing all of this for him. And you’ve never felt more dumb in your life. The house arrest bracelet on your ankle felt heavier than ever. It itches like mad. 

“Fuck you Ransom.” You rounded the counter, moving towards the stairs when he grabbed your arm. 

“Take the gift.” He slapped the box into your hand. 

“I don’t want the fucking gift, Hugh.” He looked taken aback for a moment.

“Don’t call me that.” His hand fell from your arm, stepping closer to you. 

“That’s what you want, right?” You asked, “You want me to do all of these things for you and take care of you and fucking hold you when you need comfort but when I’m fucking trying to make things easier for you, you’re all the sudden ‘I have no loyalty to you.” 

“Wait a fucking minute,” He growled, “I take care of you too. Who the fuck buys all the shit you want on a fucking whim? You’re in the mood for curry, I get you curry. You make a comment about how you really want to decorate for Christmas and who fucking gets you everything you need to do that? You say that you really want to get into fucking knitting and who gets you all the fucking shit you need to fucking knit?” 

“Buying me things doesn’t mean you care about me Ransom.” You shook the box in your hand for emphasis. “All I wanted to know is what your therapist wants you to do tomorrow, you can go have dinner with your Mother. It’s fine. I just wanted you to fucking open up to me.” 

“I am open with you!” He yells, “You know more about me than anyone else in my fucking life, it’s hard for me okay? I can never escape you, you’re always fucking there. I don’t get to fucking-” He placed his hands on his hips, turning from you. He let out a heavy, slow breath. Calming himself down. “I don’t want to go tomorrow, trust me Y/N, I really don’t, but I have to.” His eyes met yours, softer this time. 

You felt like some part of you was being irrational. This dinner might help his growth. Whatever milestone he was reaching with his therapist, this could be really good for him. But you also felt a little selfish, you wanted him here, with you. You felt more like his family than anyone else. Or at least, he felt more like your family and he should be here to spend Christmas with his family. You knew he felt at least somewhat the same, if the gifts addressed to Julia under the tree from him were anything to go by. You wanted him here, but he wasn’t yours. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, the tears that were once threatening to spill, now did. “It’s fine.” Your head was pounding. “It’s fine.” 

“I know it’s not,” He said softly. “But we can maybe do presents and lunch before I go,” He gestured towards the tree. “I should be back in time for the Grinch.” You were shaking a bit as he approached you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tightly against his body. “I’m sorry baby.” He was so warm, a little sweaty from arguing, but warm. “I’ll make it up to you.” A soft whisper into your hair. 

The little gold box was soon opened, a new rose gold cartier bracelet slipped onto your wrist and Ransom left you and your sister the next day wearing the sweater you had so carefully knit for him. 

2021

Your breath hitched in your throat, back arching, a loud moan breaking from your lungs. How was he so good at this? Ransom’s tongue was at work between your thighs, large hands cradling your hips, burying his face in your moist heat. You were so close to cumming. And he knew it. 

“Oh god,” you moaned, bucking your hips into his face as you rode your orgasm until your body was too sensitive to continue, Ransom moving his attentions to press his lips sloppily against your thighs before making his way up your body. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he lamented as he pressed his lips to your flushed cheeks and panting mouth, parting your thighs fully around his hips to tease your opening with the blunt head of his cock. “So fucking beautiful.” He moaned into your open mouth as he breeches you. 

He felt so fucking good. You’d never get over it, you were sure. Ransom was patient, biding his time. He wasn’t that guy who had to be as deep inside you as possible, chasing his orgasm by stabbing your cervix. Over time he mapped out the location of your g-spot, shifting his hips and cock to brush against the spot with every thrust, working you up and making your eyes roll back in your head. 

Those girls screamed with good reason. Just as you did now. Gushing wet around him as you came for the second time, looking up wantonly into his flushed face, lips swollen from first kissing and then pulling you apart with his tongue. Your fingers curled in his chest hair as he picked up pace, chasing his own release now, your hips lifting off the bed to aid him.

“So fucking good baby,” His eyes screwed shut as he moans, arms trembling, “You fuck me so good baby.” He sat back on his haunches, pulling your hips roughly to his, your sensitive clit grinding against his pubic bone almost bringing you over again as he cums. Hips stuttering into yours as you feel him empty himself into you. 

His head tilted towards the ceiling, eyes dropping to find you, hands still gripping your hips and as much of your ass as he can manage. “I love you.” 

It never gets old. 

He said those words to you ever chance he got. It was as if he was trying to make up for a lifetime without it. Love. 

Early morning sleepy soft kisses, I love you.

Silent breakfast with your feet in his lap, I love you.

Scratching his back as you peered over his shoulder while he was writing, I love you. 

Feet stuffed under his thigh watching Outlander and drinking hot tea, I love you.

Buried deep inside you, panting mouths a breath apart, bodies flushed and sweaty, sheets damp with cum, I love you.

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

It was intense. His love for you.

He tried hard. He didn’t know how it was supposed to work. A real relationship, a real honest to god loving relationship. But he was trying. 

The first few months of the relationship you gained a lot of new jewelry, a new iPad, clothes, shoes. “You don’t have to buy me things to prove that you love me, Ransom.” 

Then came flowers and lots of them. Sometimes just one, sometimes a bouquet. Regardless there were multiple vases that stayed filled throughout the house, always with fresh flowers never given time to fully wilt. 

After that was the touching. Always some sort of physical contact. Whether you were cuddling on the couch or a blink away from sleep with his ankle wrapped around yours, if you were in a room together there was always some sort of contact. 

Your house arrest bracelet was removed, and a gold anklet replaced it. You were free to leave, live on your own. Move out and back into that shitty apartment with your sister, but this was early days in the newfound relationship with Ransom. 

He’d bought you a house. 

He’s paying for your sisters school.

He’s paying you to still work for him.

It was a Victorian. The house. Not at all like his contemporary cube he knew you despised. A rich dark brown with a large porch. Much too big for just you and your sister, so 6 months after the two of you moved in, Ransom sold his house and moved in too. 

Julia was warming up to him. At first she wasn’t a fan. It took a long time, many dinners with Ransom, ‘family outings’, you hoped she could see the way he treated you now. The way he’s kind of always treated you. Her love was easily bought with the new house, her latest generation iPhone and the fact that she now had a monthly allowance. It didn’t stop you from making her get an after school job at the school library though. 

Now with a house of your own, you were doing something you’d always dreamed of. Watching Ransom try to hang Christmas lights. 

“I’ll just pay someone to do it,” He offered, looking skeptically at the boxes you had placed on the dining room table, “I’m not going up there to do it.” 

But there he was, up there doing it while you looked up at him from the bottom of the ladder. “This is the fucking worst.” He exclaimed, taking the light clips and attaching them to the roof. “Why are we doing this?” 

“Because you love me and you want to make me happy.” You laughed. He rolled his eyes, squinting against the sun. 

“I’m not so sure,” He attached a few more clips within reach before steadily climbing down the ladder. “I think you’re trying to kill me.” 

“I’m the beneficiary on your life insurance right?” You jokingly asked as his feet hit the ground. He laughed at your bad joke, 

“I think that’s in pretty poor taste, but…” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Yes.” 

“Julia should be home soon and then we can decorate the tree,” You wrapped your arms around his middle, capturing his lips with your own, “And make some cookies,” You kissed him again, 

“And have a drink.” He smirked against your lips. 

“You have a therapy appointment today,” You walked over to the steps, “You’re not having anything to drink.” He rolled his eyes at you once more, shooing you into the house as he re-positioned the ladder to go back up and finish stringing the lights. 

You had to be proud of him. Court mandated therapy ended when your house arrest did, but he still went every week. At first it was due to a little pushing by you, but eventually he made the appointments on his own. He was getting better. Still a dick, but that was his nature. He wasn’t quick to anger anymore, his emotions took a more level head. And he was now publishing books twice a year. He’s got five books out now, and almost 100 million copies sold. Which is incredible. 

You started back to school, Ransom wanting to start his own publishing company, “I’m paying for you to go to business school as an investment in our future.” He claimed. Once you were done with school your job would be to then help him open his own publishing company where you’d overlook everything. A daunting task, but it was hard not to believe in yourself when Ransom made himself your own personal cheerleader. “You’re brilliant,” He would say, “You’re so smart, you’ve just been dealt a bad hand until now.” 

And now he was stacking that hand to the best of his ability. 

Finals had been last week and you still marveled at the fact that as you poured over your last assignments and studying, Ransom would make you coffee and massage your shoulders whereas you would usually do the same for him as he was finishing a book. 

You’d gone to a couple therapy sessions with him, the first time he’d invited you was strange and you didn’t know what would even be discussed, but as you sat in the session and he was finally completely bare to you, you couldn’t help but feel like it was his idea and not his therapist’s. 

That session changed the dynamic between the two of you for sure. 

After the dam broke, the two of you having sex for the first time and Ransom’s admission of love it wasn’t easy. He was still an asshole and as someone who had never been in a relationship before, this first real relationship, he didn’t really know how to behave. 

You had one session a month together and it was probably one of the best ideas Ransom ever had. 

He was a little sullen when he came home later that night, coming to curl himself around you as you placed the cookies you and Julia had baked earlier into the decorative metal tins you had just bought. 

Sometimes it was like this, sadness. His lips gently pressing themselves against your cheek, his body tightly pressed against yours trying to pull as much comfort as he possibly could. “I don’t want to talk about it,” He whispered softly, “Not yet.” 

“Okay.” You knew what he needed and what he needed was a little bit of time. You offered him a cookie, chocolate and peanut butter, still warm. He took it gently from your fingers, pulling away to go to his study, but not before pulling you into a soft lingering kiss. An apology for what you knew would be a distant night. A ‘I don’t know when I’ll be coming to bed’ night. You were sure you’d have three new chapters to go over in the morning.

You loved the snow. Almost a foot of it had fallen overnight, frosting the windows and giving your home a beautiful Christmas glow. It made your home feel cozy and well slept as you stretched your limbs out, hand coming to run across Ransom’s back. So he did come to bed after all. You rolled over to face him, laying on his belly, arms folded under his pillow facing you. 

God he is beautiful. 

You hated it about him. So handsome. You brushed his fallen hair out of his face, pressing a kiss to his scrunched brow. He was letting his beard grow out for the winter. It made him even more attractive, the bastard. 

Julia was just getting up for school, standing in the kitchen in her uniform, eating toast and facetiming a friend. She was in a carpool, this house you lived in, while comfortably distanced from others, was in a neighborhood of other kids that went to her same school. Something you’re sure Ransom took into account when buying this house in the first place. You drove the kids to school on Friday when you didn’t have any classes. Today was a different parent’s turn. 

“Can I take some of these to school?” She asked, picking up a tin of cookies. 

“Yeah, but take the red one.” You popped a k-cup into the keurig. “Those haven’t touched any nuts.” 

“Mila’s Mom said we can go to the mall after school to go get presents for the pollyanna our class is having, is that okay?” She was such a good kid. Getting older now, she was almost ready to learn how to drive, something you’d been dreading, but for whatever reason Ransom was really looking forward to. 

“You have money still?” You asked, preparing a second cup of coffee for the sleeping bear upstairs. 

“I mean,” She smirked, “Unless you want to give me more…?” You rolled your eyes, turning towards your younger sibling. 

“What time will you be home?” The car had just pulled up outside, horn letting out a quick ‘honk’ to let her know they were here. 

Julia shrugged, hugging you, “We might get dinner, but probably no later than 8. I’ll text you.” She shrugged her coat on, opening the front door as you called behind her, 

“Text me when you get to the mall and when you’re on your way home!” 

“Okay!” She yelled back, trudging through the snow to the car.

“Keep your location on!” You could almost feel her roll her eyes at you, 

“Okay!” Annoyed this time.

“I love you!” You shouted as she got in the car, slamming the door behind her. Your phone chimed with reply, 

love you too

With that you went to rouse the sleeping man upstairs. 

He groaned unhappily when you woke him up, but it was quickly soothed by the coffee you’d supplied him with. 

Christmas was quickly approaching. The first Christmas you’d be spending together as a real, honest to god, family. In your own home, ready to begin your own traditions. The house was beautifully decorated and almost always smelled like cookies and a Christmas movie or music was always playing in the background. 

There was a truly sweet moment you’d wanted to commit to memory for the rest of your life. Julia rolling out cookie dough, Christmas music blaring obnoxiously loud and Ransom coming out from his study yelling, 

“I can’t write anything in a house this loud!” Walking over to the sound system and turning it down to a soft ambling. Your sister and you looking at him and laughing, the red faced lumberjack quickly losing steam as he realized he was wearing the hideous Christmas sweater you’d jokingly bought him last year. “It’s the warmest sweater I own.” He claimed. Sure. Sure it is. 

He turned the music back up a little louder, coming to a happy medium. His embarrassment waning as he looked at the two of you in the kitchen. A family that didn’t argue with every other word. People who genuinely loved each other. Something he never knew he wanted or needed. He came over to you, gently clasping your hands before tugging you into his body to ridiculously dance around to Jingle Bell Rock. The three of you peeling with laughter. Was this even real life anymore? With a soft parting kiss and a peak over your sisters shoulder to steal some cookie dough he was reluctantly walking back to his study, coming to join you twenty minutes later after finishing the chapter he’d been working on all day. 

The three of you spent the rest of the night in the living room, watching the cheesy A Christmas Prince series on Netflix and eating what was sure your body weight in popcorn. Cozy with your little family. 

“Do you think she’d like a puppy?” Ransom whispered into your neck one night. 

“Do not.” You were close to sleep, just about to drift off, when his question stirred you awake. 

“I always wanted a puppy when I was a kid.” He pressed a kiss against your neck, fingers gently tugging your nipple. 

“I’ll be the one taking care of it,” You whimpered as his other hand sunk between your thighs, “Do not get her a puppy.” His lips met your shoulder and you turned in his arms, thighs parting as he lightly stroked your clit. 

“You’ll get there.” He pressed his lips against yours, teasing your entrance with his fingers, his now hard cock nudging against your thigh. “You’ll warm up to the idea.” 

“No…” You whined, his fingers beginning to stroke your g-spot, his body coming to lay over yours, his eyes half lidded and lips wet and red came to meet yours as he removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock. “Fuck.” His fingers laced themselves through yours, pressing your hands against the sheets as he began to rock his hips slowly into yours. 

“You’re so sweet on me baby,” He mouthed against your lips, “So sweet on us.” He moaned. Your hips ground against his with every thrust. This slow love making that was making you gush around him, pussy making obscene sounds with every tilt of his hips, gently brushing the parts of you that make your legs shake. He chest close to yours, the begging in his eyes, 

“You’ll be such a good mother,” His hips met yours a little harder on that one causing you to gasp, pussy clenching around him. “Gonna give me what I want for Christmas?” He asked. He did this sometimes, knowing you were still on birth control and the actual relationship was still relatively new, the two of you had been together for almost a year now, you knew that he’d been toying with the idea of having a baby. You’d talked about it in therapy recently. 

“I love you,” He moaned, his hips build up a little speed as your legs came to wrap high around his waist. “I can’t wait,” He groaned, “So good to me.” His lips capturing yours passionately as his hips stalled, grinding himself against your g-spot, pubic bone rubbing your clit as you found your orgasm, pussy gushing wet dripping down his thighs onto the bed as you moaned into his mouth. 

“You’ll be such a good mother baby, such a good fucking mother.” His hips picked back up in pace, “I’d do anything for you baby. Anything.” He was chasing his release now, thrusting against your sensitive clit making you reel again before releasing your hands and grabbing your thighs, pushing them back high against the bed, just making you take it. You both had to try to be quiet here, your sister on the floor above you, your hand covered your mouth as you tried to muffle the loud obnoxious squealing that came uncontrollably as his hips slapped against your ass in this position. Sweat forming on his brow and head thrown back as he groans through his teeth, feeling him empty his seed deep against your cervix. 

In all the years you’d known him Ransom was never a kid person. He didn’t like small children, but he also didn’t come into contact with them often which is why it was so strange two months ago when he originally brought up the idea. “I think we would make pretty okay parents,” He said, “Better than mine definitely.” It made your heart flutter, thinking of a life with him. Knowing that he was also thinking about a life with you, but it’s just not the right time. 

What wasn’t surprising about any of this was on Christmas morning, after breakfast and the exchanging of handmade sweaters, new books to read, a couple new apple watches, and your sister and you receiving matching earrings, a gorgeous little blue nose pit bull puppy, one that reminded you of your childhood dog was brought out with a little pink bow around its neck. Ransom ignored your glare as he handed the sweet little thing to your sister, who was crying in happiness. 

He would remind you later on that he found you cooing to the sweet little thing only a few minutes after that, the puppy curled up in your arms, licking your fingers in earnest. 

“Don’t you have something else?” Julia asked him. 

“Julia this is plenty,” You scolded, “He’s gotten you enough.” She rolled her eyes. 

“It’s not for me.” She laughed. The little puppy sleeping in her arms and you scratched it behind it’s ears, turning to Ransom who shifted nervously to one knee, a ring box open in his hand. 

“Stop it.” Came out from a very watery smile. He licked his lips, tugging his bottom one between his teeth before starting, 

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.” 

.

.

.

TAGLIST //

@littlechillies @hellizhelusive2 @notbexmader @marvelouspottering @whitequeenasitbgan @Thegraylaway @readermia​ @i-believe-in-unicorns-and-you @princess-evans-addict @perplexed3001 @deidrashouseofpain @hailmary-yramliah​ @sleepycvpid​ @joannaliceevans-fanficblog​ @starlywars​ @gifsbysimplysonia​ @rocknbasil​ @imnotelasticheart​ @wannabegonnie @d1sconnect3d​ @heyguyz13 @unimomajo @this-is-serenaa​  @bookish-shristi​ @auroussss​

[courtlyharlequin]

Hey!! I was wondering if i can have a candied rose frappuccino with floyd please. Thanks 😊

Sugar Addict

Warning(s): mild spice, lowkey spicy ending

A/N: I went feral. What is plot? I ended up writing more than expected. Also, I was too lazy to proofread so I apologize for my horrible grammar. Feel free to correct me! I should probably get a beta reader... 

Context: This is an AU. Yes, a coffeeshop AU, but some things are different. These characters are aged up and NRC is actually a college.

It was unexplainable, this feeling. Twilight. The sun was setting. Traffic ensued streets as people poured out of work and into their vehicles, all with one destination: home. But for you, home was the last place you wanted to go. You were a student who did not need to fret over something like a job. You had the convenience of asking for a ride or traveling by foot to reach local destinations not far from your oh so prestigious school. At this moment, at twilight, you were experiencing the convenience of the latter. Well, a normal person would not call it a convenience. These days made taking a stroll an absurd pastime. But right now, it was both a convenience and a pastime. The roads were clogged by a massive sea of cars. Your nose crinkled at the stench of gasoline. Choosing to traverse by foot was more pragmatic. You were in a rush as well. Your destination might close any minute now!

From the inside of any of the vehicles on the street, you were akin to a hooligan. A scrambling, mad hooligan. Not only were you running in the opposite direction of where these cars were going, you were also running as your life depended on it. Therefore, you were a crazy person who was running into the city suburbs at a somewhat late hour rather than going home. Mothers in said vehicles shook their heads in dismay, praying their children were safe at home. But, you could not care any less. Night Raven College’s headmaster was very lenient on curfews and was susceptible to bribery if all else fails. But to be fair, your destination was not something to be frowned upon. It was something to laugh at, really. The place you were so desperate to get to was none other than a café.

More specifically, Café Rosé . Cheesy, chessy, yes, you were aware. The café was notorious for their supposed love potion of a latte, but you weren’t coming for that. You wanted to try their Candied Rose Frappuccino. You were a lover of all sweets; You could never live with yourself if you didn’t try it. Of course, this coffee shop was not going anywhere nor was this beverage a limited one. You simply were in the mood for it. It was craving, a whim, a last minute decision.

You sighed heavily, leaning against the café’s exterior walls. With one deep breath, you pushed the rose-tinted glass door open. The chime signaled your entrance. You braced yourself for a  barista to question your hazed, flushed state… but it never came. Still heaving, you scanned the shop. You made your way to the counter to check for employees in the back room.

Thud!

“Hey, Shrimpy! Café’s closed,” a voice glowered.

You spun your heel, making eye contact with a barista with a disheveled appearance– his aquamarine hair was slightly unkempt, his tie was unraveled and dangled loosely around his neck, dress shirt unbuttoned down to the point where his collar bone was exposed with his sleeves rolled up which furthermore accentuated his lean yet muscular figure. It was all too much to take in. He put his weight onto the nearest table. Ah, the thud came from a chair he just stacked… but nevermind that-!! The moment he moved into that position, he exposed a bit of his cleavage. Hot damn he might be lean at first glance, but he was built like a Greek god. This should be illegal! A barista should not be dressing– let alone be looking– like that. Everyone would suffer from a cardiac arrest from such a heartthrob! You quickly averted your attention to the café’s schedule.

“The business hours sign says you guys close at seven. It’s six fifty-two right now,” you said, holding up your phone.

“Close enough. Get lost.”

He walked over to you suavely, leaning over you and against the door frame to flip the open-closed sign over so that it’s closed side faced the streets. It was meant to be a gesture of mockery and intimidation, but holy hell… you were flustered more than anything. He was tall from afar but up close he was huge!! You even got a better look at his chest. Well defined, if you don’t say so yourself. Wait–

You shoved him back, “Not even for a to-go order?”

“Nope. Don’t feel like it.”

“But you’re not closed yet!”

“But I don’t wanna,” he whined.

“Why?”

“What?”

“I asked you ‘why’?”

“Can’t you just come back tomorrow and let me call it a day? I’m tired.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“I ran all the way here just to get something–”

“Should’ve done it earlier,” he shrugged, returning to his chore.

“Okay. Fine. Is there anyone else here to serve me? Since you’re too ‘tired’?”

“Sorry, Shrimpy, but they all went home.”

“Ugh! Don’t call me something that makes us seem so familiar. I’m not that short anyway...” you huffed.

He snickered, walking behind the register, “Alright then, Shr-im-p-y~! What would you like to order that you just had to come in at the last minute today?”

While you were relieved he gave into serving you a drink, the way he enunciated your unwanted nickname was irksome.

“I’ll have one Candied Rose Frappuccino.”

“Oh thank god it isn’t that latte.”

“You mean the Rosé Latte?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, loudly tapping on the cash register, “Everyone has been flocking here and only ordering that. I’m so tired of making the same order everyday.”

“Sorry, I’m not into hot beverages. Just a person who likes sweets.”

“Cute,” he cooed, handing you your receipt.

You watched as he messily wrote “Shrimpy” onto your cup.

“Can I get your name?” you asked.

“My name?”

“Yeah.”

“What for?”

“Somehow you’re slowly becoming my favorite barista.”

Partially a lie, partially the truth. He was your favorite because he was so fine. You only wanted his name in case you ever decided to write a review on your bitter first meeting with him or if you came across the manager. Petty, yes, but it annoyed you that much.

“Floyd, Floyd Leech,” he grinned.

You checked the receipt and sat down at the barstools in front of the barista’s worktable, watching him intently as he began to work on your order. Well, half your attention was actually on his hand movements. Your mind was having an internal battle about how shameful you were to fantasize about his back muscles, mentally undressing him. The fact that there were only you two in the coffeehouse did not help either. The silence, at its surface, was calming, but, at its core, it was awkward. With the occasional clinks of utensils and the sound of coffee being brewed and blended into a frappuccino,  the lack of noise left your mind to wander.

“Just because he’s good looking does not make up for the fact that he was rude,” you chided yourself.

Floyd cocked his head: “Hey. What are you staring at?”  

He looked behind him as if there was actually something of interest. You saw your drink in his hand. He held it close to his chest, withholding it, waiting for your answer.

“Oh? Um.. nothing? I was just zoning out. I’m tired from running all the way here.”

“Shrimpy’s no fun,” he pouted.

“My name is (y/n), not Shrimpy.”

“You’re short, jumpy, and huggable like a shrimp~”

“I am not that short!”

“Oh-!!! You remind me of Goldfish. You both get so mad for some reason,” he laughed.

“Listen here–”

The barista took a swig of your order. He didn’t take the dome-shaped lid out. He didn’t even drink it with a straw. He just… straight up… put his lips on the lid and drank the contents from the rim. You halted your rant, appalled by his audacity.

“You talk too much, Shrimpy.”

In this total silence, someone, if there were someone here, would have heard your sanity and patience snapped.

“Listen here, Floyd Leech. That was awfully rude of you. Actually, from the beginning, you were so rude! From getting into my personal bubble to calling me names when I told you to stop. And now you drink my order? And right in front of me too?! So, so, rude-!!! I just–”

“Wow. What an expansive vocabulary you have,” he glared, twiddling with the collar of his shirt and somehow exposing more of his collarbone.

You leaned over the counter, reaching for your beverage, heat traveling up your cheeks, “I’m not done yet! Just because you’re hot does not mean you can dress like that and automatically get a free pass to do these things! Do you have any idea how distracting that was?? Now–wHAAA!!”

You pounced at him. Your toes hung on the edge of the barstool, your left arm wrapped around Floyd’s neck, and your right arm stretched out in an attempt to reach the drink in Floyd’s hand. Much to your annoyance, he raised it higher than you could ever hope to reach. If he took anymore steps back, you would most likely flop onto the barista’s side of the table face-first. With the drink in his left hand, his weight (and yours) was shifted onto his right arm which conveniently propped itself against the countertop behind him. You wondered what people on the road thought when they saw what was going on inside the café.

It was early evening with a decent amount of cars on the street before the storefront. Nearly twenty minutes since you came into the café and here you are– without your order, curfew approaching steadily, and no sign of getting your frappuccino anytime soon. Instead, you were sprawled across the counter, a test of your flexibility and modesty.

“I didn’t really think Shrimpy was this bold, this naughty,” Floyd chuckled.

Ah shit. Your anger got the best of you. Your verbal filter was removed and all of your thoughts slipped past your conscious and common sense. His sly grin did not help at all. Your close proximity enhanced your blush. The way you clung onto him caused his shirt to slide off his left shoulder and with the position you were in, you had a front seat to all his glory. What a sticky wicket this was.

“I just wanted something sweet to drink,” you panted, fisting his shirt in your petite palms, frustration washing over you.

You were on the verge of tears. Floyd sighed, lowering the cup just a bit, and took a few steps back as he carefully let you slide onto the barista’s side of the counter. However, your beverage was still out of reach.

“You’re such a snowflake,” he mumbled.

You clung to him, still, using him as leverage to reach your order, “Am not. This wouldn’t have happened if you just let me have my coffee!”

“You mean this hell of a sugary confection??”

“Yes? I mean I wouldn’t know because I haven’t even tried it yet,” you grunted, jumping at it like a fish trying to catch the bait.

“Oi, (y/n), can I kiss you?”

That was the first time he used your actual name instead of “Shrimpy” ever since you met. You would rejoice, but the following words were out of the question. His tone made it sound more like a demand than a request of consent.

“Excuse me?!”

“You wanted to try the drink right?”

“Yes, but it’s right there in your hand! So if you would just let me have it, I’ll stop annoying you!”

“The taste is lingering in my mouth. It’s so sweet. I wanna get rid of it…”

“Get some water.”

He squeezed his right arm around your waist, bringing you closer to his face,  “But I want to kiss you~!”

“Well, since you drank out of it, if you let me have it, then we can have an indirect kiss!”

The temperature of the coffee shop was just unbearable at this point. And worst of all, this was self-inflicted. You didn’t have to tolerate him. Frankly, you should have left the moment he told you the café was “closed”.  You didn’t have to pounce on him and end up in this painstakingly uncomfortable position either. Moreover, you were sweating from embarrassment from your suggestion. An indirect kiss! That was such a childish thing to fret about and here you were, regretting your own words.

“That’s no fun,” Floyd said, taking another sip of your frappuccino.

“Hey–mmpff!!”

Despite how he manhandled you thus far, he kissed you very tenderly. His lips were soft, warm even. As much as you wanted to push him back and scold him for taking away something as precious as your first kiss, you couldn't. Everything just… felt right. Your grip on his shirt loosened. Before, you held them in your palms in anger, a way of intimidation, a sign to show him that you weren’t going to back down even if he was teasing you with no mercy. But now, you held Floyd’s collar to close the space between you two. You were this close to each other, but it wasn’t close enough.

You gasped as he nibbled your lip. Floyd took it upon himself to invite his tongue over to your wet cavern. A sugary substance flooded your taste buds. Ah… he never swallowed your drink.... Not that it mattered. You gulped it in one breath, continuing on with your tango of tongues. If Floyd wasn’t supporting your waist, you might’ve melted away into this temporary bliss. You momentarily broke away from him to catch your breath. The distance between you two was barely five centimeters. He growled lowly, taking two steps forward, pushing you towards the bar. He smashed his lips against yours, a clear sign for you not to do that again. A fire lit in his eyes. Floyd hungrily bit your bottom lip, earning a whimper in response.  Without breaking away from your mouth, only turning his head to take you at a different angle, he hoisted you up and set you and the beverage down on the countertop. Now, with both hands free, he cupped your cheeks. You responded by wrapping your legs around his waist and grabbing his wrists, drawing away his hands.

“W-Wait…” you exhaled.

“...did you not like that?” he cocked his head.

“No... No… I liked it… I liked it a lot… I just… S-Slow down…”

Floyd reached for the ends of your hair, twirling with the strand, “Take your time…”

Perhaps it was purely the heat of the moment or lust, but you judged him too soon. In this brief period of time, he was being considerate of you.  He traced your figure with his eyes, grinning from ear to ear at your bruised lips, bright pink from the dozens of kisses he gave you. You were just as disheveled as he was.

“...More..”

“You sure?”

“I’m thirsty,” you pouted.

Floyd let out a chortle before sipping your coffee, “Alright, then Shrimpy.”

You prepared yourself for yet another rough session. Before he took your lips, he smoothed back his hair, revealing his forehead. The gesture caught you off guard thus you stiffened as he brushed his lips against yours. By gods, it was as if he wasn't even trying to be provocative. Was it possible for someone to be this seductive without actual effort? At this rate, you were going to miss curfew..

“Floyd…” you moaned, intertwining your fingers with his as he pushed you down onto the counter.

“I’ll be gentle, don’t worry...”

“Floyd… No… T-There’s people watching-!!!”

“So?”

“Does that not bother you?!”

“Not when they’ll know you’re mine~”

You sat up, “I’m a bit too shy for that. A-And I would like for my first time to be private…”

You left the last part trail off in embarrassment, fiddling with his necktie which somehow managed to stay on his person despite everything that just happened.

“Oh? Is Shrimpy a virgin?” he teased.

“So what if I am?!”

“Nothing. Just thought a cute Night Raven College girl like you wouldn’t be since you were really good~”

He earned himself a playful smack on the shoulder to which he responded with a sarcastically scoff. This was so unfair...

“How did you know that I went there?”

“Hmm must be because of the shirt you’re wearing underneath that hoodie,” he said, feigning innocence.

Oh. He’s the perceptive type. You didn’t think much of his ministrations (other than them being tantalizing). It seemed that he took note of every detail about you. At this point, you were crimson as a tomato.

“Also, because I go there as well,” he snickered.

You smacked his shoulder once more.

“I’ve never seen you before.”

“Different years, probably.”

“Maybe..”

“Also, I’m always stuck at the Mostro Lounge so you can find me there,” he winked.

“Ahhh! Stop doing that!”

“Doing what?”

“Giving me two answers and mixed signals.”

Floyd tilted your head upwards and pecked your lips, holding you as if you were a figure of glass: “What about this is mixed?”

“You were terribly rude before… and you probably just want someone to bed with for the night,” you puffed your cheeks.

How your body was betraying you… Your legs were still wrapped around his waist and the fervor was not going to dissipate anytime soon.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve had my eyes on you for a long time, (y/n).”

He raised your hand and pressed a chaste kiss on each individual knuckle.

Oh god. Your heart couldn’t bear it anymore. The way your name rolled off the tip of his tongue made honey taste like summer– hot, overwhelming, but still something to look forward to.

“Since when?” you exhaled.

“Since your first visit to the Lounge.”

He switched to your other hand, continuing the ritual.

“I’ve only been there once.”

“You were such a cute Shrimpy that I couldn’t forget about you~”

“That can’t be right–”

“You just have to accept it!”

“It doesn’t make up for how you treated me before.”

He placed your hands on his cheek, “Sorry, Shrimpy. The scent you released was too irresistible.”

Instinctively, you sniffed your clothes, “I don’t smell anything.”

“It might be just an eel thing*, then. But just so you know, I’ve been trying to find you for a while now. I’m so happy that I did. You’re mine now, Shrimpy. Your smell is intoxicating,” he cooed, leaning closer to your ear, “It makes me go feral~”

You squealed at his sudden remark, unable to regain your composure. Your words melted into gibberish and murmurs as you buried your face into his chest once more.

“You’re such a creep,” you whined.

“You don’t mean that~”

“I don’t…”

“We should get going before curfew though. Help me clean up, will ya?”

“Okay.”

Floyd planted a kiss on your forehead, “Thank you, Shrimpy.”

That nickname wasn’t as obnoxious as it was before, huh.

“I’ll reward you once we get to my room,” he snickered over his shoulder as he left for the back room.

Wait– WHAT?!?!?

“H-Hold on-!!”

“Relax, Shrimpy, ’m not gonna do anything to you… not yet, anyway. I’m just sayin’ in case we don’t make it before curfew.  Azul needs me for Mostro Lounge tomorrow, he has no choice, but to let me in. If anyone can convince the headmaster, it’s probably him,” he gave you a thumbs up.

“Good to know. But… I’ve been meaning to ask about Mostro Lounge and this café. If you work for Azul then why work here too?”

“He doesn’t pay me. I’m just helping out of obligation.”

“What? How come?”

“He’s my friend?”

“You sound unsure.”

“You made it sound like I’m gullible,” he laughed, stacking the last of the chairs.

“Well? Shall we go, Shrimpy?”

You took his hand without hesitation. This feeling– it was addicting. You only knew him for a less than a day, but it felt right. It felt meant to be... as if you were soulmates. 

Bonus:

“Oya? Floyd, what happened to your back? There’s scratches all over it. Are you alright?”

“ s’nothin’, Jade. I just… had a fun night~”

“Please. You and (y/n) were so loud. Please reserve those kinds of activities for somewhere more private– not a dormitory with thin walls,” Azul chided.

His brother’s eyes widened, but he didn’t question it any further. Jade curtly closed his gym locker and headed out towards the field.

Azul followed in suit with a huff. 

* Note: Female moray eels release an odor in order to attract males to mate with them

[capcarolsdanver]

Why Her? (Part 1)

Summary: This fic is based off a request from an anon after some speculations that have been made on my blog.

Brie enlists the help of the reader to get a date with a girl that reader knows from class, only for unexpected feelings to be caught. Drama/angst/fluff to come! Pairing: Brie x Reader A/N: Oops accidentally took another way too long break from posting. I was still writing during this time, trying to structure some kind of schedule, but every time I reread my writing I always end up wanting to rewrite most of what I have, which is exactly what happened with this one. This is part 1 of 4, more of an intro than anything. Part 2 coming very soon!

As always, feedback is always appreciated so please let me know what you think, or even any suggestions you have for future parts! It is all written but I’m open to making some adjustments if people have any good ideas to bring to the story!

Please do not repost my writing anywhere without my permission.

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

You take another generous sip from the coffee cup in your hands, practically cradling it as if it’s your most prized possession. Although, that’s what you would be inclined to referred to it as in this moment. You relied on coffee during most of your days at the best of times, but even more so while you’re nursing a hangover like the one you currently have.

You groan quietly to yourself when you realise you’ve reached the last drop of your precious caffeinated drink, placing the cup on the table in front of you and dropping your head into your arms in probably the most dramatic fashion you can muster.

You vaguely acknowledge the sound of footsteps getting louder as they approach you but you quickly dismiss them as yet another student walking passed your table in the campus library and choose to ignore in favour continuing to feel sorry for yourself. You take note to never sit at one of the tables closest to the entrance again. Foot traffic has quickly become your least favourite thing.

It suddenly occurs to you that you can no longer hear the footsteps. How long had you been zoned out for? Surely whoever the footsteps belong to couldn’t have already passed you without any other sound.

“Hey Y/N, how’s it going?”

The voice beside you isn’t over the top loud or anything, but it still doesn’t stop you from jumping in your seat, your head springing up. You instantly wince, warily bringing your fingers to your temples in a useless attempt to ease your pounding headache.

The girl standing by your table, Sarah, scrunches her features in apology.

“Sorry,” she sheepishly apologises. “I did see you at the party last night. Didn’t think you were much of a drinker, though.”

“I’m usually not, especially when I have class the next morning,” you grumble. “Last night was a mistake that will never happen again.”

Sarah laughs quietly, clearly trying to be mindful of your current state. “I figured I’d find you here this morning. I just have one question about class and then I promise I’ll leave you in peace and quiet again.”

“Shoot,” you say in as pleasant a tone as you can manage, deciding to spare her from your complaints about how not at all quiet the library of all places has proven to be so far that morning.

Sarah smiles a grateful smile and sits opposite you before asking a question about some paper you had received in your shared class the previous day. You can barely comprehend what she’s asking you but you answer as best as you can, which seems to be enough because Sarah is again smiling brightly and standing from her seat.

“Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.”

“How about telling me how the hell you avoid getting a hangover. I saw you last night too. I swear you drank more than everybody else combined.”

Sarah chuckles and turns to leave. “Call it talent,” she says, waving over her shoulder as she retreats.

You wave back and watch her leave.

You wouldn’t necessarily call the two of you “friends”, but you and Sarah share an English class together and you seem to find yourself at the same get togethers and parties frequently, and had always gotten along well enough. You were sure if you actually took the time to hang out together you would probably be easy friends.

You take a heavy breath and release it when you realise you’re alone again, and just barely start feeling sorry for yourself again before a figure is slumping into the chair next to you with absolutely no consideration to your clearly less than ideal state.

You jump even more than when Sarah had startled you and your hand flies to your heart.

“Oh my god!” you exclaim. Your body was so not prepared for these kinds of interactions today.

“Sorry,” the girl says, kindly enough but with much less sincerity than Sarah. You don’t recognise her and you look at her with wide eyes, trying to figure out who she is.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, actually,” she says, apparently missing the bite in your tone, or just choosing to ignore it. “That girl you were just talking to. You’re friends with her, right?”

You instinctively look in the direction of the main entrance, where Sarah had disappeared through just moments go.

“Uh, kinda?” You reply, unsure. “I guess. I mean, we have a class together but-“ you interrupt yourself, remembering that you have no idea who this stranger is or what she wants. “I’m sorry, what exactly do you want from me?”

“I was wondering if you could help me get a date with her.” She says it so matter-of-factly that she doesn’t seem to recognise how entirely strange her words are. All you can do is blink at her in response.

“Excuse me?”

You have never actually considered that Sarah could be interested in women. Sure, she was an attractive girl and she was always nothing but friendly to you, but for whatever reason you just weren’t interested in her in that way. And  now that you think about it, you’ve never actually seen her with anyone else, not even at any of the parties you’d attended.

The girl in front of you, however, obviously had considered it, and had somehow come to the conclusion that Sarah was interested in dating women.

“Do you even know her?” You ask.

“Not at all. Why do you think I’m asking for your help?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?” You have to admit that you’re still confused by her request. She seemed confident enough coming here to talk to you. So why would she need any help talking to Sarah?

“Oh, I’m like, notoriously bad at talking to women I’m interested in,” she easily explains. “I can’t flirt for the life of me and I’m way too awkward to try to convince a girl that she definitely wants to leave a party with me.”

You’re left without a response once more, blinking at the girl as she offers you a half smile and watches you. After a long moment, she seems to remember something, sitting up straighter to regard you again.

“Oh! I’m Brie by the way!” She holds out her hand towards you and you drop your eyes to stare at it for a moment, your hungover brain working at half speed before you realise she’s offering to shake your hand.

Your hand grips hers weakly and she shakes it with her own. Her handshake is firm yet gentle, though you don’t really know what to look for in a good handshake. Brie seems to hold back a laugh at the awkwardness of the situation.

“And you are…?” She regards you with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh! I’m Y/N.” You shake your head as if you were clearing the fog inside of it. “Sorry. It’s been a bit of a rough morning.” You force a chuckle. She squints her eyes at you for a moment before a look of recognition flashes across her face.

“Ah, I thought I recognised you. You were at that party last night, right?”

You look at her in surprise. Usually, no one ever seems to recognise or remember you from any of the parties you attend. You’d always been a loner to some level. Not totally socially inept but enough so that you generally flew under the radar quite easily.

You nod. “I’m sorry but I don’t remember seeing you there.”

“Yeah, by the time I showed up you seemed pretty plastered,” she chuckles and your cheeks immediately flush. You hadn’t meant to drink so much the previous night, but what started out as a couple of drinks had very quickly multiplied the more you had allowed yourself to wallow in your own self pity. You uncharacteristically had let the fact that you were at yet another party alone get to you.

Brie seems to notice your discomfort because she thankfully has the decency to move the conversation on fairly quickly.

“So, you think you can help me?”

You’d completely forgotten the reason why she had even started talking to you in the first place, but your brain eventually catches up and your eyebrows lift when you remember her request.

“Oh. Um…”

“Okay, listen,” Brie interrupts, watching you with amusement in her eyes. “I’ve gotta go. But if you decide you might want to help me, here’s my number.”

She grabs the notebook that you forgot you even had open in front of you and slides it across the table towards herself. She quickly scribbles her phone number in the corner of the open page and slides the notebook back towards you.

Brie stands up, considering you for a moment before she reaches into her bag that’s slung over her shoulder. You’re still several steps behind, looking down at the set of numbers she had written in your notebook, when she drops two aspirins in front of you. You startle, looking up at her and finding her smirking down at you.

“Take these, they’ll make you feel better. And maybe they'll convince you to help me, too,” she says, barely giving you a second to respond before she, too, is leaving you alone at the table.

You sit in stunned silence for a few moments until your eyes drift towards the large clock on the wall opposite you and you catch sight of the time. If you don’t leave now, you’ll definitely be late for your first class of the day. You half consider your options, wondering how much you’d really miss if you just skipped one class in favour of going back to your dorm to nap.

Eventually you let out a deep sigh and stand up, knowing you’ll just end up beating yourself up later if you let yourself miss a class because of your poor choices from the previous night. You quickly throw your belonging into your book bag, only pausing to look at the two aspirins Brie had left for you. You pick them up and quickly swallow them down with a gulp of water from your water bottle before you’re rushing out of the library doors and towards your class.

[chaoticminhos]

forget me not

—he couldn’t remember what kind of coffee he liked but he still remembered how to be a gentleman, interesting.

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: angst

warnings: brief mention of a car crash

words: 4.3k

a/n: i cried while writhing this so 👀👀 not proofread

you stepped out of your bedroom and fumbled for a light switch. between the sleepy haze and you not knowing the house yet, you’d never manage to find your way through it without light. you flicked the switch on and made your way down the hall and into your kitchen. everything was so neat and organized. knowing you, that order would be gone within a few days and would never return. you weren’t really one for organization.

you hissed as your bare feet hit the cold tile of the kitchen floor, cursing yourself for not having worn socks to bed.

you opened a few cupboards before leaning back against your table with a sigh. you just wanted a glass of water, but you were struggling to remember which cupboard you’d put all your cups in. your sigh was quickly followed by a yelp of surprise when someone spoke beside you. you lived alone.

“you put them here.” the voice said as he stepped forward and opened a cupboard you hadn’t checked, revealing the cups you’d neatly stacked on the shelf.

you didn’t reply until he grabbed one of the cups himself and went to your fridge to fill it up.

“what the hell are you doing?”

he turned around, holding the glass of water out for you to take. you just stared at it.

he sighed and sat the cup on the table beside you, “helping you get a drink.”

“no,” you backed away from him instinctively as he came closer, “why the fuck are you in my house?”

you tried to sound angry and intimidating, but you honestly couldn’t. you knew you should be shaking with fear, a random man was inside your house in the middle of the night and you did not invite him in. he was much bigger than you and he could easily overpower you, but all you felt was surprise and confusion. there was no fear. it must be the shock, you told yourself.

he shrugged, “you brought me here.”

you frowned, “i did not. i haven’t brought anyone here yet! i’ve lived her for a total of 1 day and half a night.”

he frowned and walked past you and into the living room right next to the kitchen. he flipped the light switch and made his way to the far end of your living room before picking up a small necklace you had sat on an end table.

you’d gotten it at the thrift store. you went there to find some cheap things to decorate your new home with and couldn’t resist the beautiful piece.

he held it up and you just frowned.

“i’m connected to it.”

he held the necklace and came back to meet you in the kitchen, making sure to shut the living room light off behind him. he held out his hand to you and you let him drop the piece of jewelry into your hand.

“what do you mean?”

he picked up the glass of water he had gotten for you and took a drink, “i’m dead.”

you laughed, “no, i’m serious. why are you in my house? i should call the police.”

he shrugged, “call them if you want to start yourself a bad reputation in this town. they won’t find anything when they get here.”

you shifted your feet and stared at him. it wouldn’t hurt to humor him a little, would it?

“you can’t be dead. ghosts can’t hold stuff.” you motioned to the cup or water in his hand.

“we can’t?” he raised an eyebrow, “where’d you hear that?”

you frowned, “it’s common knowledge. it says so on literally every paranormal tv show.”

he set the glass back down and waved a hand dismissively at you, “please, you believe that shit?”

the frown remained on your face as you nodded, “what other sources would i have?”

he smiled, “you’ve got me now.”

he could see the doubt still covering your face and he sighed.

“don’t believe me?” you shook your head and he never broke eye contact as all of the lights in your house went dark. the ones in the kitchen and the ones from the hallway, your house was pitch black.

you heard him chuckle as you let out a sound of surprise and fear and just as quickly as they were off, the lights came back on.

you stared at him for a minute as you tried to rationalize the events in your mind. it must have been coincidence. it was an old house, the salesman had told you you’d have to get some wiring redone. that was probably it.

“if,” you began, cursing yourself for stuttering, “if you can do that, why’d you use the light switch earlier?”

he frowned in confusion.

“when you went to get this,” you held the necklace up, “use turned the light switch on and off with your hand. why?”

he shrugged, “i don’t like using my powers a lot. sometimes it’s nice to feel like a normal person again.”

you nodded, still slightly skeptical. you hated yourself for thinking as you were, but most of you believed him. you didn’t know why, but every word that left his mouth felt honest.

“so, what? you’re like a genie in a bottle? whoever has your necklace has you?”

he nodded, “sort of. i can actually carry it myself if i want to, go wherever i wanna go, but i like letting it find it’s place naturally.” a smile crossed his features, “brings me to people like you.”

you nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“i’m stuck to wherever it is, but that’s not a big deal considering i can carry it myself.”

you nodded again, taking in the information. you crossed the kitchen and reached up to the drawer the boy had taken a cup out of earlier and grabbed your own, filling it with water and walking past him into the living room. he followed you, the full cup from before in his hand.

“why’d you get another glass?”

you shrugged as you sat down on the couch, leaving enough room for him to sit beside you.

“that ones yours.”

he spoke in a teasing tone, “i thought ghosts couldn’t drink.”

you rolled your eyes and to your surprise, a smile found its way onto your lips.

“so i’m stuck with you now?” you teased.

“no,” he teased back, “you could always give the necklace to someone else, but something tells me you’re going to keep it.”

it wouldn’t matter if you gave the necklace away anyway, he decided, he would just pick it up and find his way back to you.

“okay, ghost boy.” you reached your hand out to shake his, “what’s your name?”

you were shocked at how cold his hand felt in your own, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable cold. it was almost calming.

“chan.”

you woke up the next morning convinced meeting the strange boy was just a dream, but you were quickly reminded that it was not by his voice calling your name from the kitchen.

you jumped off your bed and hurried to get dressed to meet chan, who had spent the night on the couch despite having no actual need to sleep, in the kitchen.

to your pleasant surprise, he had already got to work at making the two of you some breakfast. you chucked at how easily he found things around your kitchen.

“it’s like you know where i put stuff better than i do.”

you surprised yourself with the friendly opening. you met him only a couple hours prior to that moment but you already found yourself being friendly with him. he was someone that was easy to be nice to. he was charming, even.

“i do.”

“what, is good memory a special ghost power?” you teased.

“no.” he shrugged, placing two plates on the table and motioning for you to sit down, “i’m just smarter than you.”

you glared at him as you took your seat but it didn’t last long. chan carried the hot pan from the stove and slid two perfectly done pancakes onto your plate. you moved to go to the fridge to grab syrup and butter, but he motioned for you to stay seated and retrieved the items himself.

day one and he was already proving to be a great roommate.

you ate silently by yourself for a few minutes before chan slipped into the seat across from you after putting his own food on his plate. despite you beginning before him, chan finished his food first. it was weird to you that he did things like ate and drank when he had no need to. from what you’d learned the night before, he doesn’t even have good tastebuds as a ghost, so it’s not like he could fully enjoy anything he eats. you understood his reason, though, of wanting to feel normal and alive.

the following few mornings, you woke up to the same thing. chan in the kitchen making whatever he was making for breakfast that morning. the days went the same too, talking or just watching movies and hanging out with chan. it was nice. you liked his company.

but alas, weekends end and you have school and work to go to when they do.

“can i come with?”

you chuckled, “chan, it’s a closed seminar. you’re only allowed in if you’re a student.”

he pouted, “would he even notice? you said your classes are huge.”

you threw on your coat and opened the door, “i don’t know.”

he followed behind you, shutting the door and locking it behind the two of you. you glanced at him in confusion, “i said no, chan.”

he shrugged, “i can still walk you there and wait for you until it’s done.” he smiled, pointing to the necklace around your neck, “plus, with than on you i kind of have to go wherever you do.”

you looked down at the jewel around your neck, chan had insisted you try it on the night before and you hadn’t taken it off.

you chose not to reply as you started your walk in the direction of your university.

it wasn’t a long walk, only a couple of minutes. you’d purposely chosen an apartment close to campus to avoid travel fees.

the trees and buildings you walked past virtually every day were so interesting to chan, though, that the walk took double the time due to his stopping and staring.

“it’s just a tree, chan.” you laughed.

“yeah,” he replied, “but i haven’t seen a cherry blossom tree in,” he paused, “i don’t really know how long.”

when you finally arrived, thankfully still on time, you tried to take the necklace off and hand it to chan so he could go home or explore some more instead of being stuck around your campus, but he refused.

“i like the way it looks on you.” he grinned, “i’ll be fine waiting here.”

you ignored the fluttery feeling in your stomach at his words and waved him goodbye as you entered the building. immediately, you were attacked by your friend with questions. apparently she’d seen you walk up with chan and you walking with a boy was headline news.

“when did you meet him?”

“last night.”

her eyes widened, “you only met last night and he’s already walking you to class?”

you nodded, deciding not to mention that he also lived with you. maybe you should have lied about how you met. you’d have to lie anyway, it’s not like you could tell everyone he was a ghost.

class went quickly and it wasn’t long before you were walking out of the school and scanning the yard for chan. you locked eyes with him just as he stood up from the bench he was on with a smile and began walking towards you. he spoke first.

“can we go to a cafe?”

“what?”

“i haven’t been out in public with someone in forever, please?” he begged, “i didn’t ever make myself known to the last like 4 people who had the necklace so i never got to do things like go to cafes or shops and interact.”

you smiled but your eyebrows furrowed, “you didn’t? why did you introduce yourself so quickly to me, then?”

he shrugged, he did that a lot, “i knew you’d be fun.”

fun? if he considered sitting inside and watching movies or sleeping all day as you usually did was fun, then he was in for a great. otherwise, he might be disappointed.

you nodded and started in the direction of your favorite coffee shop. it was a little further away than other places, but it was worth the walk. chan was less distracted this time, evidently he’d wondered and marveled at enough trees and skyscrapers to satisfy him while you were in class. instead, you held easy conversation the whole way. it still surprised you how easily words flowed when speaking to him. conversation wasn’t awkward and you never ran out of things to say or out of energy to listen to him talk.

you actually really liked listening to him talk. he had a nice voice.

you opened the door to the cafe and chan followed you inside and right up to the counter. there wasn’t a line, so it was your turn to order right away.

“hi,” you greeted the girl at the register, “can i have a caramel mocha please?”

she nodded and turned to chan, “and you?”

his eyes widened and he looked to you for help, “uhm, i don’t-“ he muttered the rest of the words, “i don’t know what i like.” before turning back to the register. “same as her, please.”

you payed and went to sit down and chan lightly shoved you for laughing at him.

“i got nervous. i didn’t have time to think and i don’t remember what i used to get.”

you laughed, “ghosts are supposed to be scary, not cute nervous wrecks.”

he pouted but didn’t have time to reply as the barista called your name to pick up the drinks. you went to stand to grab them, but chan was up and nearly at the counter before you could even fully stand.

he couldn’t remember what kind of coffee he liked but he still remembered how to be a gentleman, interesting.

you brought the cup to your lips as you watched him take a drink of his own, smiling when he hummed pleasantly at the taste. good thing you ordered something he liked for him to copy off of you.

weeks went by with you living with chan and it stopped feeling weird after a while and started feeling normal. you didn’t know if it was the move of houses or the boy in the house that made you feel safer here than your last home, but it was something.

you’d learned a lot about him in the time you’d spent together. you learned that he was from australia, which you could tell by his accent, and that he died in a car accident. he didn’t want to talk specifics, and you didn’t press it.

you also learned just how charming he was. only a few days into knowing him, he began flirting and making subtly hints towards you. you laughed it off, he was just a playful guy, but that didn’t stop your heart from racing every time he reached for your hand or called you baby.

you knew it was an issue for you to develop feelings for him, not only had you known him for so short of a time but he wasn’t even human. still, you couldn’t deny the butterflies that danced in your stomach when you heard his laugh.

sometimes you thought that maybe, just maybe, the way he acted meant he felt the butterflies too.

like the moments he pulled you close into his side while watching a movie.

“if you’re cold i can get more blankets.” you spoke up at him, face resting against his chest.

“i don’t get cold. i just wanted to hold you.”

or the first time he held your hand.

he was walking you to class as he always did and suddenly you felt his hand grab yours.

“it’s crowded and i don’t want to get lost.” he said, but you knew that was bogus. he would always know where you were so long as you had his necklace on.

still, you let him hold your hand the whole way to school and you continued to let him hold your hand on every walk and any other time he felt inclined to do so.

you were walking hand in hand back from your university when the problems first started.

some boy you didn’t recognize walked right up to you and chan, and you knew immediately that he was no good. you couldn’t pinpoint it, but something about him put you on edge.

that was the first time chan made you take off his necklace.

he turned to you as the man approached, “y/n, give me the necklace.”

you frowned, fingers flying up to fiddle with the jewel at the end, “what?”

“take it off and give it to me and go home. i’ll meet you there.”

you did as he said because between the uncomfortable feeling revolving around the man approaching you and the way chan had never used that tone with you made you panic and you really didn’t know what to do other than to listen to his words.

you unclipped the necklace and jogged home, and chan arrived not long after you. he took his place beside you on the couch and moved your hair aside so he could place the necklace back where it belonged.

“who was that?” you asked.

he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his side, “doesn’t matter. what matters is you’re safe.”

he leaned down and placed a soft kiss to the top of your head and held you like that until morning.

the one time freaked you out enough, but it kept happening more and more. every single time, chan would say the same thing. “give me the necklace and go home.” and every time you obeyed because every time whoever was walking towards you two scared the shit out of you before they even got within 10 feet of you.

of course it scared you to leave chan alone, too, especially when they came in groups. you figured they had something to do with a ghost thing, why else would they know chan? because of this, you knew it was best to let him deal with it. and he always did, he dealt with it and met you home after a while and held you until you felt better. he always came home and made you feel safe.

until they started coming to your home, too.

you were sitting on your couch watching movies with chan as usual, but you weren’t paying attention. instead, you were focused on his laugh and the way just being around him made you happy.

he reached to you and his fingers grazed your collar bones as he held the gold chan in his hands. he slipped the necklace out from under your shirt so that it was sitting in plain sight before moving his hand to rest on your shoulder, holding you securely against him.

“don’t hide it. i like seeing it on you.”

you smiled up at him, you liked seeing it on yourself too. it reminded you of him.

the soft moment was cut short by a banging at your door. you stood to answer it, but chan grabbed your arm and pulled you to sit back down. he held his hand out and that plus the wave of anxiety that hit you let you know what was happening. you unclipped the necklace and placed it into his hand. he bent down and placed a kiss to your forehead before moving through the house to open the door.

you heard as he opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind him. for the first time, you could kind of hear the interaction between chan and the strange men. you couldn’t make out words, but you knew they were speaking, and it sounded like chan was angry.

that wasn’t what frightened you the most, though. what terrified you was when you heard a loud slam and someone cry out in pain. it wasn’t chan, you thought you’d recognize the voice if it was, but still.

that was all you had to hear before covering your ears tight with your hands and waiting for chan to come back wipe the tears away, to take the anxiety filling your stomach away and make you feel safe again.

it wasn’t long before chan was stepping back into the house and rushing over to you, cradling you in his arms.

“who are they, chan?” you managed to get out between whimpers.

he just held you tighter, “they’re nothing to worry about, i promise. i’ll keep you safe baby, always. no matter what i have to do, i’ll keep you safe.”

you felt his arms grab you as he picked you up and carried you to your bed, crawling in beside you. he hesitated as he secured the necklace back around your neck and let you bury your face in his chest until you fell asleep.

usually, chan would sleep too, just for the sake of sleeping next to you, but that night he didn’t even shut his eyes.

for the first time since chan had began sleeping in the same room as you, he was next to you when you woke up. usually he would be up and making breakfast, but he was still right next to you with his arm around you and his fingers playing with your hair.

“good morning.” you smiled at him.

he did his best to smile back, “good morning angel.”

he sat there for a moment admiring you before sitting up.

“get dressed.” he called to you, “i want to go somewhere.”

you did as he said before meeting him at the front door. it didn’t strike you as odd, chan liked to go out with you often.

“where are we going?”

“just to the park.”

you held your hand out for him to take and you missed the pain that crossed his features as he took the invitation and lead you from your door and onto the street.

he played with your fingers as the two of you walked in comfortable silence, enjoying the morning air and being alone together.

he stopped when he reached the same cherry blossom tree he marveled over the first time you’d taken him out. you laughed as he stared at it for a moment.

he was so pretty.

he turned to you and grabbed you by the elbows, pulling you close to him. you laughed as he did so, not bothering or wanting to try to put space between yourselves.

“you know,” he smiled softly as he spoke down to you, your faces only inches apart, “it’s said that you can feel a ghosts energy.”

you tilted your head in confusion and he continued.

“you can tell if they’re good or if they want to hurt you.” he smiled, “that’s why you weren’t scared of me when we met. you knew i just wanted to protect you.”

you chuckled, “why are you telling me this how?”

“i’ve always wanted to protect you, and i’ll do whatever i can to do that.”

the happiness from before was slowly leaving you and being replace by confusion and fear as you saw his eyes behind to well up.

“why are you saying this?”

“baby, you know i love you, right?”

you nodded, tears of your own filling your eyes as he rested his forehead against yours, “i know. i love you too.”

he smiled at your words, softly closing the gap between you two and connecting his lips to yours. he lingered for a moment before pulling away.

“i’ll do anything to protect you, even if that means losing you.”

you shook your head, “chan, what are you-“

“it’s better this way, baby.”

he reached behind your neck and unhooked the necklace, holding it in his palm. you reached for it back but he held his fist tight.

“even when you forget me, i will always love you, okay?”

“chan, please don’t,” you started to understand what he was planning, “please don’t leave me.”

“it’s dangerous if i stay. they’re drawn to me, and if i’m with you they’ll always come for you, too.”

“i don’t care, i don’t-“

he hushed you, “i know you don’t baby, but i can’t keep putting you in danger because i’m selfish.”

the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes finally did, and he wiped them away with his thumb.

“can you shut your eyes for me?”

you shook your head no but allowed his thumbs to close your eyelids. you felt his lips against your forehead and you squeezed your eyes shut. when you opened them you were in your bedroom. you were overwhelmed by frustration and pain for a moment before you seemed to lose your train of though. why were you crying? and when did you get back to your room? last you remembered, you were grabbing a glass of water from your new kitchen, struggling to remember which cupboard you’d put all your cups in...

[justatiredpotato]

Set Me Free | Chapter 4

Chapter List

Pairing: hybrid!Yoongi x human!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, coffee shop AU, hybrid AU

Word Count: Chapter: 5,000~  Total: 40,000~

Updates daily at 10pm MST

Warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, implied abuse and sexual exploitation

Summary: Yoongi, a cat hybrid, has been hurt time and time again by a world that would have him believe he’s worthless. One day he finds himself in your protective care, and gets a new family to boot. But is it really that easy to escape the past and embrace a new beginning?

Author’s Note: In this fic the reader’s name is Yeoji

You woke up the next morning delightfully warm. You shifted to tuck your nose back under the edge of the blanket, but found you were curling into someone’s back instead. Startled, you pushed yourself up on one elbow and blinked at the figure tucked against you. Your arm was wrapped around Yoongi’s waist, legs tangled together. You blushed and quickly detached yourself from him. He let out an almost childlike whimper and turned to try and pull you close again, but you tucked the blankets around him and moved out of his reach. How could you invade his space like that? You must’ve drank too much.

The air was cold even through your sweats as you climbed out of bed. It was still early morning. You never slept soundly when you drank. Figuring you wouldn’t be getting much more rest if you tried to go back to sleep, you started getting ready for the day. You quietly pulled out a simple fitted black dress and a baggy cardigan, creeping into the bathroom to slip them on over a pair of knit tights. After grabbing your work shoes you exited the bedroom, closing the door as quietly as you could so as not to wake a still sleeping Yoongi. The shop opened in about two hours, so you figured you could get some of the office work done before then.

You settled on the couch with your laptop and a notebook that held your accounts information, spending about a half hour making sure everything was balanced properly. You decided to spend the rest of the time reviewing your inventory and preparing the order for your supplier that month. As you stood to move to the kitchen, the bedroom door creaked open. A bleary-eyed Yoongi emerged, hair sticking up in all directions, partially obscuring his ears.

“Where’d you go?” he croaked, voice hoarse from crying the evening before. “Why didn’t you stay?” His eyes widened as he took you in, already in your work attire.

“Am I late?” he asked, suddenly awake.

“No! No, you’re off today.”

“Really? Why? I can work,” he said, almost sounding hurt.

“I have Jimin coming in today, don’t worry. Why don’t you work on your music today?”

He nodded, pondering. He seemed to acknowledge that it would be nice having some time to himself after yesterday's incident. You didn’t mention the fact that you were trying to hold off a bit longer before introducing him to the other boys. They were a bit energetic for Yoongi at the moment. You feared that Jimin’s affectionate nature would stress him out.

“Okay, well call me if it gets crowded. I can get ready and come out,” he eventually said.

“Thanks.” You smiled, walking over to ruffle his hair. “But don’t worry, this is my job.”

He mumbled some kind of acknowledgement, ducking his head but also pushing into your hand so you scratched his ears some more. 

“Are you coming back here for lunch?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ll eat with you. I usually go at two, can you wait that long?” He nodded. “Alright, I’ll be back then.” You turned and headed out front as he grabbed his bag and the bundle of papers you’d salvaged.

“Ah!” you exclaimed, turning on your heel. He jumped, looking at you questioningly. You hurried over to the bookshelf and pulled a notebook off of it. “Use this,” you offered, holding it out to Yoongi.

“Thanks,” he said, flipping through it and giving you a gummy grin. You suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to curl up next to him and ask him about his music. It felt like an actual tug at your heart, wanting to know the thoughts and feelings that he’d put to paper. You pushed the thought away, pulling your laptop closer to your chest.

“You’re welcome,” you said, turning to continue your way out front.

You went over inventory, finishing up about a half hour before opening. The order could be written up that night or the next morning so it could go out on Friday. You put your laptop aside and went out to the counter, making your regular coffee and Yoongi’s. You also made breakfast for the two of you.

He glanced up when you entered the room. He hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch. He flashed a smile, pulling one side of his headphones off his ear.

“Thanks!” he said, already going for a sip of his coffee.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you at lunch,” you said, already turning to leave.

“You aren’t staying for breakfast?” he asked a little sadly.

“I have to go let Jimin in and open,” you answered over your shoulder. “But it’ll be lunchtime soon. And maybe you can show me some of your music after I finish up tonight?” you asked hopefully.

“Sure,” he replied, running a hand through his hair and smoothing over his ears.

Jimin was already waiting outside when you returned to the cafe. He waved cheerfully as you jogged to unlock the door for him.

“Noona!” He tumbled into your arms as soon as the door was open. You laughed, squeezing him tight and rocking side-to-side with the hug.

“How’s my Chim Chim this morning?” you asked, burying your face in his hair as he held you. To anyone else you might’ve looked like a couple, but Jimin just really liked holding people and being held, always had. It seemed to help him heal when he first arrived at Jin’s shelter, and you had been one of the first people he grew close to.

“I’m good, I missed you though!” he answered, finally pulling away a little. “You spent the whole weekend with your new kitty friend!” he pouted.

“We had a few things to do so he could settle in.” You laughed at his obvious jealousy. As excited as he was about another cat hybrid in the family, you knew he’d be jealous too.

“Is that why you smell like him? Because it smells like you’ve been all over each other,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you. You chuckled awkwardly pushing him away and rolling your eyes.

“We’re staying in the same tiny two room apartment. And I gave him my bed the first day, so that’s probably why.”

Jimin nodded dubiously, slipping past you and inside. He headed to the kitchen to put his backpack away while you locked the door so you could finish preparing for the day. Jimin took down the chairs and straightened the tables while you made him a coffee.

“You hungry?” you asked as you put the finishing touch on his mocha.

“Nah, I ate with Tae before I left.” He came back to the counter, accepted the beverage gratefully and took a sip.

“How’s he doing at the shelter?” you asked as you straightened cups and checked the register.

“He seems to like it. There are… hard parts of the job. But I can tell he feels good about helping people like he is there.” A sad smile flickered over his face. “He’s really strong, you know? Staying there, seeing all those things.”

You put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. “You know there’s nothing wrong with you choosing to do something else? Not everyone is suited to a job like that,” you said gently. “I don’t think I could do it.”

“But you are doing it!” he said confidently. “With your new kitty friend. You’re totally helping him!”

You laughed, releasing him to go unlock the door. “He’s not ‘my new kitty friend.’ His name is Yoongi. Yoongi-hyung, to you,” you scolded. There was no real firmness in your tone though.

“Another hyung?” Jimin whined. “Man, I wanted someone to boss aro- I mean take care of.” He seemed pleased with his joke.

“Chim,” you turned your best older-sister-look on him. “Play nice.”

He pouted again. “I’m always nice!” he argued, but you could hear the barely-suppressed giggle in his voice. “When can I meet him?”

“I’m not sure yet. Whenever he’s ready, I guess.”

Jimin nodded understandingly. 

The morning passed relatively slowly. The festival only made things slightly more busy than any other Wednesday. Around one, you ran back to your house to make Jimin lunch and brought it back out front for him. You made him eat in the kitchen. He complained, but you explained that Yoongi was working back in your apartment and you didn’t want to interrupt him.

You slipped away for your own lunch a little after two. Jimin was clearly miffed that you were allowed to disrupt Yoongi’s work. But the sulking you’d have to endure was all worth it when Yoongi’s face lit up at your arrival. He already had stuff out to make sandwiches, slicing up tomatoes and cheese.

“I’m not a great cook, but I figured I could make this for you,” he said sheepishly, gesturing to the sandwich that was already made on the counter next to him. You grinned, running over to wrap him in a side-hug. Once he finished his sandwich you settled at the table to eat. Your break seemed to be gone in a blink as you chatted about what Yoongi had been working on (he said it was a secret), and you told him about your latest dumb customer (this Karen who’d come in demanding a fat-free breve, claiming she got one at Barstucks all the time). His laugh gave you this fluttering in your stomach, leaving a warm and cozy feeling that you chose not to read into. 

You glanced up at the clock, cursing under your breath. You stood quickly, the chair scraping a bit on the floor. You’d taken an extra 15 minutes.

“I’ve gotta go, Yoongi,” you said, already heading for the door. He hurried after you, catching your sleeve and wrapping you in a quick hug, so light you barely processed it had happened.

“I’ll show you some of my lyrics tonight,” he said. He waved you off as if you weren’t just going out to the front part of the building. You waved back, chuckling at the silliness of it.

When you returned to the front counter, Jimin fixed you with a questioning look, eyes sharp.

“Yeah, he’s totally not glued to you,” he said with a sniff. He rolled his eyes, laughing as he no doubt smelled Yoongi on your sweater from the hug a moment before. “You’re so whipped.”

You grumbled but didn’t argue, knowing he would only take a stronger denial as confirmation. You weren’t trying to have him give the other boys the wrong idea. You would never take advantage of Yoongi by trying anything with him. A customer mercifully pulled you from your ethical quandaries about relationships with dependent hybrids.

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By the time the last customer left and you and Jimin started cleaning up, you were eager to go check on Yoongi.

“You can go, Noona. I’ll finish up here,” Jimin offered.

“What? Why? I can help you finish up.”

“Just go see him. I’m sure he’s been waiting for you since the second you left anyway.” He snickered, eyes scrunching up with his smile.

You blushed, cursing hybrid noses and their ability to see right through people. You turned your back on him, energetically scrubbing at the counter. “Don’t be silly. If anything he’s waiting for dinner.”

“Well then you better not keep him waiting. Jin-hyung said he’s way skinny,” Jimin said.

You turned back to him, brows raised. “Jin told you about Yoongi?”

“Just a little. He said we should all help you so he can get better.” Jimin was already at your back, gently guiding you toward the kitchen. He pushed you through the door, toward your apartment. “Go take care of your boyfriend. I’ll lock up before I go.”

The kitchen door thudded shut behind you as he went back to cleaning up. If your face wasn’t red before it certainly was now. You took a second, hoping the embarrassment would fade along with the color in your cheeks, before continuing into the apartment. You were certainly surprised by what greeted you.

“Yoongi…?” you called, noting the set table with a couple dishes of food already on it. You started toward the kitchen just as Yoongi’s head popped up from behind the island, making you jump.

“You’re back!” He smiled nervously at you, a couple of glasses in his hand.

“What’s all this?” You reached the table and looked over the spread: spaghetti with meatballs, garlic bread, and a shockingly pretty salad.

“Ah, this?” he said, as if you might be talking about something else. “I just figured that since you were working all day I could do something around the house. I cleaned a bit, but I thought it might be nice if you didn’t have to make dinner. I hope that’s okay.”

“Okay? This is amazing!” You passed the table in favor of going and wrapping Yoongi in a tight hug. “I haven’t had someone make dinner for me in a long time! If I ever let Namjoon cook he’d burn down the house.” You felt Yoongi’s chuckle rumble in his chest, a faint rumble of a purr already starting as well.

“Well, I didn’t burn anything. I just hope it tastes alright.” He pulled away and led you over to the table. “I tried to do it just like the video, so I think it isn’t bad.”

“I’m sure it’s delicious!” You took your seat and watched as Yoongi returned to the kitchen for the glasses he’d been getting.

“The guy on Viewtube said wine goes with this. Does that sound good?”

“Sure! Whatever the chef recommends.” You eyed the food, and noted that Yoongi had even put on music in the background. Soft piano music played from his laptop on the counter. Yoongi grabbed the bottle of wine out of the fridge—which happened to be the only wine you had—and joined you at the table. He removed the cork and poured you each a glass, which you smiled and took.

You weren’t a big wine fan in all honesty. The bottle was just the remainder of a bottle Jimin had brought over a while ago. But you took a sip anyway, wanting to cooperate with what he’d prepared. Yoongi took the plate in front of you and started to serve the food, but you reached out to stop him.

“You don’t have to, I can get it myself,” you said.

“It’s okay, I want to do it.” His gummy smile made you sit back down. You smiled as he spun the pasta, something he must’ve picked up from the Viewtube tutorial. He set your plate in front of you with a hint of a proud smile, then made a plate for himself. 

You glanced at him to find he was watching expectantly, clearly wanting to see your reaction. So you spun your noodles and took a bite. Your eyebrows rose as you looked at him, chewing for a moment.

“Edible?” he asked.

“Very edible. Delicious actually!”

He beamed at the praise, taking a bit himself. He gave a thoughtful hum, considering for a moment. “Not bad. I think the sauce should be thicker though? The guy in the video’s sauce was definitely thicker.”

“Maybe you can tweak the recipe a bit to get it just how you like it.” You smiled at him encouragingly. “I think you have real talent for this, Yoon.”

“Thanks, noona. Maybe I’ll try something new my next day off.”

“That sounds great. I appreciate this so much, truly.” You ate in pleasant silence for a moment before a thought struck you. “Did you get to work on your music today? I hope you didn’t just do housework.”

“Yeah, I got some stuff done. I can show you some tracks I’ve made after dinner, if you’re interested.”

“I would love that!”

“Actually… This is something I made.”

You blinked at him, not quite getting it. “This?”

“Yeah, the piano music. It’s all my stuff.” He nodded towards his beat up laptop, still playing soft melodies from the counter.

“All these songs have been yours?” 

He nodded, avoiding your gaze. “Yeah. I mean, none of them are finished or anything. I don’t really have the tools I need to make a polished track. These ones don’t even have lyrics yet. And I don’t know any vocalists to do the melody. But I thought they would be good enough for backgr-”

“Yoongi.” You interrupted his ramble. “They’re beautiful. All of them. I had no idea you wrote stuff like this.”

The way you looked at him, truly amazed, made him shift in his seat. He didn’t know what to do with a compliment to his work, which was so dear to him. He cleared his throat before he spoke, not wanting to sound too... He didn’t even know what. “Thanks,” he finally said before quickly returning to his meal. 

Once you’d both finished dinner you helped him clear the table and do the dishes. As you put the last plate in the cupboard you glanced at him expectantly. He snorted, grabbing his laptop and heading to the living room. You smiled and hurried after him. He opened his laptop, and seemed to steel himself, before turning to you.

“Now remember, these aren’t finished or polished or anything. I don’t have the tools or the skill to really make these good so don’t-”

“Yoongi,” you whined. “Stop selling yourself short. I’ve heard you perform. You’re really talented. And the songs you played during dinner? Amazing. So stop dissing yourself!”

Yoongi’s serious expression turned into a smirk. “Dissing myself?” The smirk turned into a grin, and you couldn’t help but start laughing. Any nerves he felt about showing you his work faded into the background as he laughed with you. Once you caught your breath, he played the first song he wanted to show you. You bopped along to a high energy club beat, then an intense diss track. Yoongi could spit rap so fast you almost couldn’t keep up, yet every word was clear. You glanced up at him as he focused on the computer screen, realizing how truly talented he was. A slightly slower tune with a driving beat behind it came on, something in the realm of a sexy slow-jam. Your eyebrows shot up, face heating along with the whole room as you listened. You weren’t expecting his lyrics to be so… bold.

The song ended and Yoongi clicked around a bit, glancing at you and noting your expression. “What did you think?” He was clearly nervous, but also proud of his work.

You smiled at him, trying to school your expression. If he noticed your flustered state, he was kind enough not to comment. “I would definitely dance to that. Or buy tickets to that concert.”

He grinned a gummy smile, a laugh escaping him. “I don’t think we’re anywhere near that yet. But I appreciate the thought.” He looked back at the screen, queuing up something else. “Okay, this one is a bit different than the other stuff. It’s not as… up as the other stuff. But I wanted to try writing something real. I don’t know if it’s any good, so tell me what you think.” He pressed play.

A soft piano melody began, and you quickly recognized it as something he’d played at dinner. But it quickly became clear this was a newer version of the piece as a base synth came in. After a moment of piano, Yoongi’s lyrics began. His voice was more familiar as the Yoongi you knew, not the cocky club persona from the other songs. 

As you listened you felt your heart clench with every word. This wasn’t a song, it was a story. His story. He told you about moments, flashes of love and joy, broken and torn away by loss and violence. His voice strained, trying not to break as he told of greed and hate and finally, emptiness. When so much pain builds up that you are hollow. With nothing left to push you forward, you only need the tiniest push to send you over the edge and into oblivion.

You sat for a moment, looking at the coffee table in front of you but your mind was far away. Yoongi wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you looked up at him. His eyes were wide with worry.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, scanning your face before wiping at it with the sleeve of his sweater. You hadn’t realized you were crying. You didn’t answer him, instead you pulled him into a tight hug. He seemed to understand because he didn’t press you further. The two of you stayed like that for quite a while.

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It was just you and Jimin again on Thursday. Business was picking up as the weekend approached, so you were kept busy with customers almost constantly throughout the day. At noon you ran back to check on Yoongi, but you didn’t even have time to take a real lunch.

Mid-afternoon there was a bit of a lull. You had just slipped back into the kitchen to take a breath and drink the coffee you’d made yourself when a customer out front caught your attention.

“Is your owner here?” the man asked. His voice wasn’t very deep, but his tone was imposing, almost threatening.

“I beg your pardon?” Jimin responded politely.

“Your owner. I want to speak to them.”

“You mean the shop owner?” The man must’ve nodded because Jimin called for you a second later. You came out of the kitchen and looked over the man in question.

He was average height, but stocky. The suit he wore was probably expensive, and you could see a fine gold chain peeking out of the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. You glanced up to meet his eye and were surprised to find a generally handsome face. A tattoo crept out from under his collar, under his jaw, and up behind his ear. He looked you over in return, mouth curving into a smile, but it had no warmth behind it. Actually, it almost sent a shudder through you.

“Are you the owner?” he asked.

“I am. How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a lost hybrid. A client of mine mentioned she saw him here?”

You frowned, glancing at Jimin but making sure your unease didn’t cross your face. “A hybrid? I can’t think who you’d be talking about. Maybe he came in with a customer?”

“No, she said he was working here.” The man dug in his pocket and pulled out his phone. “This one, a cat. Name’s Suga, but he calls himself Yoongi sometimes,” he said, turning the phone to show you. The image you saw made your stomach drop. The photo was dimly lit by pink and purple neon lights, but you still easily recognized the boy in the photo. It was Yoongi, curled up on the floor against a couch. He was in just a thin t-shirt and underwear, obviously trying to avoid the camera. You schooled your expression before meeting the man's eyes again, feeling nauseous.

“I can’t say I’ve seen him. My friend here is a cat hybrid, so maybe she mistook him for this guy?” You glanced at Jimin, who nodded. He looked uncomfortable, probably sensing your anxiety.

The man sneered. “Believe me, she wouldn’t mistake this kid for any other kitty.”

You cringed internally but put on a polite, apologetic smile. “Well, I’m sorry we can’t be of more help.”

“Oh don’t worry. I’ll check in with the local patrol station. You know how the police have been cracking down on strays. When they find him they’ll get him right back to me.” You nodded tightly at him, still trying to keep a smile. “Let me know if you see him,” he said, pushing a business card across the counter to you. The name on it was Kwon Hyunjoong. You nodded and the man bid you farewell, You watched until he exited the shop and the door settled shut behind him. 

You turned to Jimin. “Call Jin and Namjoon,” you said, already moving back to the apartment. You burst through the door, startling Yoongi from his place at the kitchen table. He pulled his headphones off and stood, walking to meet you by the door.

“Hey, what’s going on?” His brows were furrowed as he looked you over. “What’s wrong?” He placed his hands on your shoulders and that was when you realized you were shaking. You looked at him, panic in your eyes.

“There was a guy looking for you,” you blurted. You took a deep breath, but it ended up more of a sob. You couldn’t seem to catch your breath. “He had a picture of you. And he’s going to the police. He said they’ll find you and take you back to him and I said I hadn’t seen you but…”

Yoongi stopped you from saying any more, pulling you into his chest and stroking your hair.

“Woah, woah. Slow down,” he said. He was trying to sooth you but you could feel how he’d begun shaking as well, muscles tense as you clutched his shirt. “He doesn’t know I’m here right? And you said you hadn’t seen me.”

“That woman. That disgusting b**** told them she saw you. That you were working here. Yoongi, do they have papers? Can they take you? Oh god, even if they don’t I’m not sure what I can do. What if I can’t protect you? I promised I’d keep you safe and now I- I-” You dissolved into gasping sobs, imagining the police coming and dragging Yoongi out of your home. If they had evidence that they ‘owned’ him, or even had in the past, there’d be nothing you could do. Most of the police didn’t care, and you had no legal right to protect him. “I have to protect you,” you cried. You held him so tightly he winced a little, but he just held you closer.

Your sobs had quieted a bit and you were catching your breath when a knock came on the apartment door. Yoongi carefully disengaged from your arms and had you sit on the couch while he went to get the door. He glanced through the peep-hole before opening it to reveal Jin and Namjoon, along with Jungkook. Namjoon surveyed the older man, who was shaking, eyes puffy and watery. Then he glanced over Yoongi’s shoulder and spotted you curled up on the couch, trembling. He hurried past Yoongi and over to you, the others trailing behind him. You looked up at him as he crouched in front of you.

“Joon…” you whimpered weakly. He pulled you into his arms without a word. You started crying again, sobs renewed when you glanced up to see Jungkook with his arm around a terrified Yoongi. “You have to help me Joon. We have to keep him safe. We can’t let them take him.”

Namjoon glanced up at Jin, before gently pulling away from you. “Can you tell us what’s going on? Jimin only explained a little on the phone.” You nodded, sniffling and taking a shaky breath.

“Jungkook, why don’t you go help Jimin out front?” Jin said. The younger boy nodded, giving Yoongi’s shoulder one last squeeze before hurrying out to the cafe. 

Yoongi came to join you and Namjoon on the couch, leaning close to you. Namjoon glanced at him and removed his arm from your shoulders, taking your hand instead. Yoongi quickly wrapped you in his arms, nuzzling into your neck in an attempt to soothe you. Jin sat in the armchair across from you. They waited patiently for you to gather yourself before you started talking. You told them the whole story.

“I don’t know how to keep him safe. Legally, I can’t do anything for you, Yoongi.” Your free hand came up to clutch at his arm, still wrapped tightly around you. “I can’t protect you without legal guardianship. You know how the police have been about so-called ‘strays’. Without papers, they’ll take you to a shelter and notify your previous owners. They’ll take you and I won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.” You released Namjoon’s hand, tears returning as you turned into Yoongi’s chest again and held him tightly.

“Well the easy solution would be to have her adopt you,” Jin said. He looked at Yoongi expectantly. That was the obvious solution, but you knew how Yoongi would feel about it. You felt him stiffen in your arms and you cried harder.

“Yoon, I know you don’t want an owner. And I don’t want to own you. But I can’t lose you. Please, please, I just want to keep you safe.” The room was silent as your pleas hung in the air for a moment.

Yoongi let out a shaky sigh. “Okay.” You froze, suddenly quiet except for the occasional hiccuping breath. “I trust you, noona,” he affirmed. “I… want you to adopt me.”

You pulled away to look him in the eye, scanning for hesitation. But as hard as those words must’ve been for him to say, you couldn’t see a trace of doubt on his face. He smiled softly at you and you smiled back, tears still falling.

“Thank you,” you choked out and he held you close again, burying his face in your hair. You turned to look at Jin. “When can I sign?”

“You got a computer and a printer?” he asked, already standing from his chair. Less than an hour later you were all seated at the table, papers printed and pens in hand. Jin had been able to pull up Yoongi’s records from the database online. Luckily, his former owners hadn’t bothered to keep the papers up-to-date since they first ‘acquired’ him years ago, so nothing was preventing you from adopting him. You signed, and Yoongi placed his fingerprint on the document.

“I’m going to run these to the registration office before they close. I’m signing as a reference, so luckily we can forego a background check or interviews as a first time owner,” Jin said, already standing and heading for the door. “Unfortunately, they’ll want you to have tags. But you only have to have them when you go out. They make earrings now too.”

“That’s what Jungkook and Tae have,” Namjoon added. “They’re actually pretty cool looking, for what it is.”

Yoongi nodded, clearly not thrilled with the idea of wearing a tag again. But when he saw the remorseful look on your face he smiled at you. “It’s okay, noona. Look, my ears are already pierced anyway.”

You looked and sure enough, he already had earrings: three on one side, two on the other. “We’ll get whichever one you want. Maybe we can find one that just looks like a regular earring,” you suggested hopefully.

[c-estmabiologie]

nine terrible cups of tea (and at least one equally terrible cup of coffee) | the haunting of bly manor fic

Dani tries to master the art of making a proper cup of tea. It goes just about as well as you'd expect. (1987 - 1994)

Also on AO3!

One

“Really you could just throw a tea bag into your mug, pour some water on top, and call it a tea. But we’re better than that.”

Dani isn’t convinced but she tries her best to follow the steps as Jamie patiently describes them. She talks about making tea with the casual confidence of someone who believes that Dani can will a good cup of tea to exist. As if this isn’t the first time that she has tried to hold Dani’s hand through the process. Dani’s pretty sure it won’t be the last time either, but she tries to wield some of Jamie’s confidence as her own.

“If you want to be really proper, you can even warm the pot first with some hot water from the kettle and, you know, just dump it down the sink.”

Dani swirls the hot water around inside her teapot, feels it warm under her palms. It’s nice. Wasteful, but nice.

“What does this do?”

“No idea. Somebody probably decided that it makes the tea taste better.”

“Okay,” She drops two teabags in. One for herself, and one for the pot, according to Jamie who’s not leaving tea totally up to chance and Dani’s efforts; her arm is soft and cool against Dani’s as they stand shoulder-to-shoulder at their kitchen counter, each with their own pot of steeping tea.

“Now here’s where you might make a mortal enemy of a Brit: adding milk to your cup before or after the tea.”

“Does it have to have milk?” Dani asks, thinking Aren’t there people who drink their black tea black, like coffee? That’s a thing, right?

Dani can feel Jamie twitching a smirk beside her without having to look.

“It has milk if you’re making English tea.”

She remembers the looks she got from Hannah and Owen and even the children whenever she’d made an attempt at tea. She can’t remember when she’d added the milk. Jamie, for sure, must be exaggerating the offense.

"But which one’s the right way?”

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t really care as long as it’s the right amount of milk.” Dani realizes that Jamie’s already gone ahead and poured her own cup without her, milk and all, and she’s missed it. She pours her own tea and splashes in milk until its colour matches the tea in Jamie’s cup.

They look the same to Dani.

“Alright,” Jamie says, “let’s have a taste shall we?”

They taste the same to Dani, but Jamie’s brow furrows just a little as she takes the cup away from her lips. And then she starts laughing.

“Okay, how is that possible? We did the exact same thing!” Dani takes another sip from her own cup to prove her point. It tastes fine! It’s tea!

“I really have no idea, Dani,” Jamie’s still laughing. “You’re just shite at making tea.”

Two

Jamie's been trying to relax with a book in the bedroom when she hears the beeping coming from another room. Just three little beeps, then nothing. A minute later, the three beeps chirp through her focus again.

When it happens a third time, she finally puts down the book to shout.

“What is that?”

“What’s what?” comes Dani’s reply from across the apartment. Then the beeps make themselves known once more.

Then: “Oh. It’s the microwave. I got distracted.”

Owen had bought them a microwave as a housewarming gift. It was a convection microwave, he’d told them proudly, which apparently made it special because you could microwave your food on a metal tray if you wanted. The idea was that they could warm up their takeaway faster, or cook frozen dinners (Owen’s very generous way of chiding them for both being awful cooks). Jamie hated it. It was big and ugly and had faux-wood paneling on the side. She’d rather stick to making burned stews on the stovetop.

Dani appears in the doorway with a mug in each hand. She holds out one mug to Jamie.

“I made you tea.”

“What, in the microwave?”

Dani shrugs and sips from her mug.

“No.”

“It’s fine—”

“Absolutely not.”

Three

It’s a quiet-ish day at The Leafling and, to be honest, Dani is sort of enjoying the peace of arranging flower displays and curling ribbons. The sun is warm through the windows.

Jamie is laid up in bed with some sort of cold. She’s being a surprisingly big baby about it, too, Dani is surprised to realize. Her wife doesn’t like it when she can’t be useful.

Speaking of certain wives who shouldn’t be up, Dani can hear steps coming down the stairwell that connects the shop to their apartment. The shop’s back door pushes open a moment later and Jamie appears with jacket on and her curls stuff up into a hat. She’s pale and her nose is pink and tender-looking around the nostrils.

“What are you doing down here?” Dani demands in her most teacherly voice, but Jamie clearly has plans to go out, not back upstairs.

Jamie’s voice is raspy and hoarse.

“I need to go out to the shops and get some more milk. Ours is off.”

“I had some in my cereal this morning and it was fine.”

Jamie coughs into her collar.

“The date on it’s fine. But I add it to my tea and it’s curdled.”

“Oh.” Dani’d left the tea steeping for her before she’d come downstairs.

Then: “It’s probably the lemon doing that. In your tea, I mean.”

“There’s lemon in my tea?”

Dani nods. “There’s honey in it, too. It’s supposed to help with your sore throat.’

Jamie sighs, then sniffles, then seems to deflate a little.

“I’m gonna be honest: it sounds absolutely disgusting.”

But Dani insists that she at least give it a try (without milk), that it will make her feel better (it does, a little, admittedly), and that, who knows, she might like it (she does not).

Four

Summer heat hits hard, and The Leafling doesn’t have air conditioning. The ceiling fans do nothing more than push hot air around the shop. The plants slump in their pots (which annoys Jamie), and fat houseflies keep finding their way indoors, only to bang themselves relentlessly against the windows until they fall dead on the sills (which annoys Dani). Everything is slightly damp with sweat or condensation.

“This is something my ex-almost mother-in-law used to make,” Dani says, stirring the ice around in the pitcher with a wooden spoon.

“You know there’s probably a less complicated way to say ‘ex-almost mother-in-law’.” Jamie says. Her hair is sticking to her neck, and her gardening gloves feel like they’re being peeled off of her skin as she takes them off.

“She used to make it for my, you know, Eddie and me in the summer when we were kids,” Dani hesitated. “I don’t know. It just always reminds me of the best parts of summer.”

But when she looks up Jamie has a glass and is holding it against her cheek.

“You know,” she says, “I do know what iced tea is. It’s not exactly a foreign concept.”

Jamie is thoughtful as she drinks the tea slowly.

“So,” she says finally. “This is what makes Poppins think of summer.

“It’s kind of a funny taste isn’t it? Cold tea on purpose.”

Jamie gets up and pulls Dani into a hug that’s nice, but not altogether pleasant — their skin clings together and comes apart audibly in the heat and they both smell very strongly of themselves.

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” Jamie says into her shoulder.

“I’m going to go upstairs and put the kettle on.”

Five

“What is it?”

The gift sits on their kitchen counter, out of place and mysterious with its glass-and-stainless steel modernity next to their wooden cutting boards, cluttered and kind of oily spicy jars, and that obnoxious faux-wood panelled microwave.

“Owen says it’s a French press. He was really excited about some Danish company. Said it’s apparently great for beginners.”

Jamie makes a note to herself to somehow ask Owen to stop giving them gifts for their kitchen.

“I didn’t think Owen drank coffee.”

Dani looks thoughtful, “I don’t think he does.”

Owen’s gift doesn’t come with instructions, and neither one of them wants to ring Owen up to ask for help. Dani takes charge, grinding the coffee beans (which Owen had also generously provided) in the spice grinder… and then washing out the grinder and starting again when Jamie points out that the fresh grounds reek of coriander.

They aren’t sure if they’re supposed to give it all a stir once the water’s been added. Or when to press the plunger. Or how long it’s supposed to sit. Their first attempt produces faintly coffee-flavoured water. Their second, a grainy, chewable mess.

The French press gets relegated to a high shelf above the stove, behind a fern. Eventually it will pinch-hit as a flower pot and Dani will love how the glass reveals the root systems buried in the soil.  

Six

“This tea tastes weird.”

It’s Dani who says it.

Jamie looks up from the arrangement she’s been working on. It’s wedding season and The Leafling has been swamped with orders for bouquets and table arrangements. Jamie’s been going back and forth on this particular order all week with a bride who seems unhappy no matter how precisely she tries to follow the bride’s vision. Frankly, it’s been pissing her off (the last time she’d come in and rejected Jamie’s work, Dani had sensibly stepped in to take over the conversation before Jamie could get their shop shut down for punching a customer).

“Are you sure you didn’t accidentally drink vase water?”

She picks up her own cup and takes a sip. The milk must have been added too soon and seized up the brewing. The tea tastes like nothing. Dani is watching her.

“Yeah, this is pretty bad.”

Dani says nothing.

“Oh shut up. I’m allowed to have off days, too, you know.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Dani says, but she’s smiling.

Seven

Jamie somehow manages to drink vase water.

Neither of them can explain how it got into her tea cup or where her actual tea had gone.

Eight

“Hey.”

The word is spoken into Jamie’s hairline and followed with a kiss. She smiles, half-awake, and reaches to pull Dani to her so she can kiss her properly. Her hand jostles a tray and something makes a precarious, jangling sound.

“What’s this?” she rubs at her eyes. It’s still mostly dark in the room.

“You’re up early.”

Dani’s at the side of their bed with a serving tray. She’s barefoot, still in her pyjamas and, from what Jamie can tell, still pretty sleepy herself.

"What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion.” Dani places the tray on the bed and climbs in next to Jamie slowly, careful not to tip anything on the tray.

"I just thought it would be nice to have the morning together. I bought scones.” Dani warps her voice around the word in a way that is definitely not the American pronunciation, but just as definitely not a passable approximation of Jamie’s accent. As Dani hopes it would, it makes Jamie smile.

“I see that. Scones.”

“Mm-hmm. And biscuits,” Dani never could manage that one without the secret sort of laugh that says that the Rich Tea biscuit that she’s picking up off a plate will only ever be a cookie to her.

It’s all lovely. The biscuits, the morning, Dani: lovely.

And then, of course, there is the matter of the tea.

A few problems that meet Jamie immediately as she takes a tentative sip. First, it’s cold. Second, even with what looks like an alright amount of milk (Jamie notes that Dani’s been getting better on this front)...it’s bracingly bitter.

She bravely takes another sip to avoid spoiling the otherwise perfectly cozy moment. Something solid dislodges itself from the bottom of her cup and hits her wetly on the nose. Jamie can’t help but splutter a little, and the thing plops back into the cup. It’s the tea bag.

“Uh, Dani?” Jamie realizes that she’s poking a bruise a little here, and Dani looks so happy next to her, breaking off pieces of scone with her fingers.

“How long was the tea left sitting?”

Dani’s brow furrows.

“I’m not sure how early you wake up these days,” she says. “I may have made it… a while ago. Is it okay?”

Jamie gently places the cup back onto the tray.

“It’s just a little on the cool side, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Dani tests the side of her cup with the back of my hand, as if to memorize what a little on the cool side means to Jamie.  

“I can just warm it up in the microw—”

“ No. Let’s just enjoy our morning.”

Nine

“Does anyone who drinks this stuff actually enjoy it?”

They’re in bed, limb flung loosely over limb. On the TV screen, a woman sits tensely under a tree while another sticks her bare arm right into a beehive. Bees swarm up her sleeves and into her undone braid.

“I think it’s pretty nice,” Dani says, “It’s peppermint. It’s supposed to be relaxing.”

Jamie curls up against Dani’s chest. She cradles her cup between them, more for its warmth than for any interest in drinking it.

“It tastes like hot toothpaste.”

On the screen, the bee charmer has returned with a mason jar full of honey. She invites the other woman to have a taste.

“Do you think they’re gonna get together?” Dani says. Jamie considers the scene for a few seconds.

“Yeah. But it’s a little weird to go after your dead brother’s fiancée like that isn’t it?”

Her own mug empty on the bedside table, Dani picks up Jamie’s abandoned tea. It’s still warm and it’s left a warm spot on the blankets between them.

“I guess it’s a little weird. I still want them to get together.”

Jamie makes a sound that might be agreement, but her eyes are drifting closed.

She’ll fall asleep before the movie’s over. Dani will fill her in on the details she’s missed over breakfast, before they have to return the tape to the video store.

Ten

“It’s so nice to have someone cook for me for a change,” Owen says, pleasantly. It’s not often that he’s been able to come around to their place over the years (and lately it’s become even less often).

“You’ve always done so much for us,” Dani calls from the kitchen. Something clatters loudly into the sink. “We just want to return the favour.”

Owen glances at Jamie, who confirms with a nod that it was, of course, Dani who had had such a thoughtful idea.

“I’m just nervous to serve dinner to the accomplished chef and restaurateur Owen Sharma,” Jamie says. “I’ll have you know that if it were my idea, I’d have just gotten takeaway and arranged it artfully onto plates. Real plates, of course. Nothing but the best for our Owen.”

Dani comes in then with a tray and busies herself with setting up the table. Jamie clears away the half-melted candles and clutter to make room.

“I thought we could have some tea before dinner.”

The hesitation that hangs in the air is palpable mist off a pond.

Owen clears his throat and politely reaches for a cup.

“Did you make it, Dani?”

“She’s been practicing,” Jamie says, drawing one knee up to her chest and reaching over to get a cup for herself.

“She says I’m not allowed to be a judge anymore. Says I’m biased against her, but really my tastebuds are probably shot. So, you are her lucky new victim.”

They toast to friendships and loves that are never truly lost and gamely drink Dani’s latest attempt at a proper cup of tea.

“You know what,” Owen says after a moment. “It’s not that bad.”

“Really?”

“You hear that, Poppins?” Jamie says, with another half toast of her cup. “You did it.”

“Really?” Dani says again. She takes her own sip, searching the taste for what might have made this brew remarkable. It just tastes like tea to her.

“It’s good?”

Owen and Jamie both make non-committal sounds, but neither do they abandon their drinks.

“It’s not the most amazing tea I’ve ever had,” Jamie admits. “But it’s absolutely, absolutely a decent cup of tea.”

“You know what?” Dani says, “I’ll take it.”

[sirrriusblack]

Coffee Cup

Hiiiii, so first of all, I haven’t written anything in a good while, I’m sorryyyy, I just haven’t had the energy lately. I should be back to normal but uh, apologies if I’m not :)) Second of all, this song was suggested to me by @alphamarkab a little bit ago and I just immediately got wolfstar vibes.

Sooooo, here is a coffee shop au song fic based on Coffee Cup by Anthony Lazaro :)

* * *

Sirius couldn’t stand it. The empty flat. The near silence. The lack of laughter and joking and life. Sirius had been more than okay when James announced he was moving out of their shared flat and moving in with Lily. In fact, Sirius had probably been more excited than Lily and James themselves. But that didn’t change the fact that for the first time in Sirius’ life, he was alone. And he couldn’t escape it. Every bare wall where photos had hung, every empty shelf waiting to be filled with dust, every spot of silence throughout the flat taunted Sirius. He didn’t realise how much he needed people, until the people were gone. And obviously Sirius knew that he could still call James and Lily whenever, that he could invite Pete or James over whenever he felt like it, but it wasn’t the same. Sirius hadn’t slept at all last night. It was late morning now and it was taking every inch of him not to lean forward, grab his phone and call James. Or Pete. Or even fucking Regulus.

Sirius’ brother still wasn’t speaking to him, no doubt too scared to risk his parents’ wrath. Not that Sirius could blame him, but Reg could leave. He could leave and he could come live with Sirius and deliver a huge fuck you to their parents and their titles and their money. But he chose to stay. The last time Sirius had offered to help him escape, Regulus had blocked all contact with him. Fuck. Sirius needed a distraction. He picked up his phone. 10:53 am. He called Marlene. She didn’t answer. Clearing his throat and shaking his head, Sirius grabbed his leather jacket and opened the door.

* * *

Caffeine Break was the only valid coffee shop Sirius had ever been to and he would stand by that until the day he died. It was a fifteen-minute walk from his flat, they sold the best coffee Sirius had ever tried, and Marlene worked there, which meant discounts. He was hoping he’d find Marls there today. The bell above the door chimed as Sirius walked in and didn’t even stop to look around the shop before he beelined for the register. A thin, wobbly boy greeted Sirius with a wide smile and a very repulsive brown hat. Sirius made a face that he wasn’t too sure was as pleasant as he’d intended, judging by the barista’s face.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” he asked, still smiling. Sirius tried to smile back.

“Uh, is Marlene in today?” he asked, hoping the boy knew who he was talking about.

“Um no, sorry, I’m covering her shift, actually,” the boy explained. “She’s sick,” he added at Sirius' confused glance. The boy drummed his fingers against the register and Sirius shook his head.

“Uh, right, thank you… could I get a black coffee? Just a black coffee,” he repeated, looking up at the boy, who nodded.

“Sure, that’ll be $3.50,” he said, holding out his hand. Sirius fumbled around his pockets for a moment before he pulled out a five-dollar note and handed it to the boy.

“Keep the change,” he muttered, feeling slightly dizzy.

“Oh, thank you,” the boy smiled. “Can I get a name for that?” he asked, gesturing to the register.

“Right, uh, Sirius,” he said, walking away slowly. The boy nodded and put the cash in the register.

“Won’t be a moment,” he turned to the next customer. “Hi, how can I help you?”

Sirius stood against the side wall of the shop, tapping his foot to the ground for what felt like hours. He checked the time. 11:12 am. It had only been two minutes. He sighed and shifted his weight onto his other foot when the barista that had served him called out.

“Order for Sirius and order for Remus!” He waited for Sirius to get to the counter before he handed him the drink and turned back to the register. Sirius started to walk to the back of the shop, where the comfiest booths were, when he took a sip of his drink and almost spat it right back out. It wasn’t coffee. Not even remotely. It was chamomile tea. Sirius spun the cup around and read the name scrawled in black ink: Remus. He turned back to the counter and laid his eyes upon a guy about his age, looking right back at him.

Sirius couldn’t move. The person across the room from him was—stunning. Literally. His hair was a mess of tawny curls that fell across his pale forehead and scraped the back of his neck. Clear framed glasses—too big for his face but somehow perfect for him—adorned his face and his shy smile was something Sirius thought he might never recover from. Remus—Sirius guessed—took a step forward and Sirius’ eyes travelled down. He was wearing a sweater, big and soft and grey, along with black jeans and white sneakers that didn’t look all that white anymore. Remus, with huge hands lost in his sleeves and wrapped around the cup, kept walking toward Sirius, dragging his feet along with him. The shy smile that had appeared before had made its exit and if Sirius looked closely enough, Remus almost looked sad. No, not almost. The smile returned when he got closer though and if it weren’t for that damned smile, Sirius just might’ve asked him to stay at a safe distance. All he could see now, however, were two big, green, beautiful, entrancing, wonderful eyes staring back at him and Sirius had to do everything in his power not to lose his shit.

“Remus?” he asked, sticking his hand out. Remus nodded and shook Sirius’ hand, glancing down at the cup in his own hands.

“Serious? I somehow feel like that’s not right,” he said, glancing back up. Sirius’ heart was skipping as he heard Remus’ voice, low and soft and beautiful. He could fall asleep to that voice alone and thinking back to last night, that was saying something. Sirius realised that Remus was still waiting for a reply, and blinked quickly.

“Oh uh, yeah, they do that every time. You’d think they’d know by now,” he said and Remus huffed a laugh. “It’s Sirius,” he added. Remus nodded.

“Like the star,” they both said at the same time. After a moment of awkward, broken laughter, Sirius stepped back a little.

“Right so um, I didn’t realise this wasn’t mine and I drank some of it,” he started. “I can get you another one if you’d like? Or I can—“

“Oh no, no it’s alright,” Remus reassured him, holding out Sirius’ cup. They swapped and each took a sip of their own drink before they both smiled awkwardly. “Right so uh, it was nice meeting you, Sirius ‘like the star’… I’ll um, see you around.”

“Yeah, see you,” Sirius replied, amused. Remus bit his lip and turned, heading toward the door, dragging his feet again. His smile fell almost right away and his shoulders sagged like they were being weighed down by something Sirius couldn’t see. He almost made it out the door before Sirius’ hero complex kicked in. Almost.

“Hey Remus!” he called out. The scuffing feet stopped as Remus turned to face Sirius, green eyes curious. Sirius half jogged over to Remus.

“Everything alright?” Remus asked, pushing his glasses up his nose and glancing around for an explanation. Sirius flicked the pad of his thumb back and forth over the coffee cup lid. “I, uh… it’s totally none of my business,” he started, moving his hand into his jacket pocket. “But I just wanted to ask—you look kind of upset… are you okay?” He finally got the words out and Remus seemed shocked. His eyes glazed over for a moment, like he wanted nothing less than to talk to Sirius about his feelings. But then his gaze softened and he shrugged.

“I’ve just...I guess I’m just having a shit day,” he explained, twirling the cup in his hands. Sirius smiled knowingly.

“Do you want to talk about it over coffee?” he asked, eyes glinting. Remus huffed a laugh. “Or over horrible tea,” Sirius added, nodding to the cup in Remus’ hand. Remus scoffed, but smiled nonetheless.

“I’ll have you know that chamomile is a great tea,” he said, scrunching his nose slightly. Sirius almost died. He really almost died. Remus let out a loud laugh that neither of them had been expecting. Sirius decided right then that he wanted to hear that laugh as much he possibly could. Remus took a step toward the booths at the back of the coffee shop. “I’d love to talk about it over coffee and horrible tea,” Remus smiled. Sirius followed after him, all dizziness long gone.

“I’ve just peeked your name on the coffee cup

What a stroke of luck the guy just messed up

and gave your cup to me.”

— Anthony Lazaro, Coffee Cup

[thewalkingfanfictions]

I’m Not Gay -- Sam Winchester x Male!reader

I'm Not Gay — Sam Winchester x male!hunter!reader

Part One / Part Two

Description: Forced out of his motel room by his sister when she and a stranger burst through the door playing tongue wars, (Name) decides to go for walk, where he runs into Sam, tall, handsome, smart, and no, (Name) definitely doesn’t like guys, I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Warning: Some internalized homophobia, references to sex, and some cussing. Supernatural-themed gore and violence (they fight vampires)

Genre: Fluff, I guess? A bit of angst in there somewhere probably, too, since I have no self control.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Male!Reader

A/N: I have no idea what the fuck this is. This is such a crack fic. Reader has a sister named Lidia, for reasons that I do not know.

Words without A/N: 2483

Masterlist

<———————>

"You sure you don't wanna come with, (name)?"

"No, Lidia, I'm just gonna stay here and research. 'Sides, socializing is for psychopaths."

Lidia (Last name); ninety-three pounds of redheaded sarcasm, anger issues, and badassery. Also my sister, senior to me by four years ("and three months, (name)!") Also, also, a total extrovert with a thing for trying to force her introverted little brother to socialize. Disgusting.

"C'mon, (nickname), you need to get laid! I could totally find you a pretty, butch boy and—"

"Lidia, for the last time, I'm not gay!"

For the last several years, my darling, amazing, delightful (taste the sarcasm?) big sis has been living under the (totally unfounded) belief that I am a homosexual. I don't know where she seems to have gotten that notion, as I am not. (Summer camp doesn't count, dammit!)

"Mhm, keep tellin' yourself that, lil' bro. But, fine, if you won't come with me–" she dramatically picked herself up from the seat where she'd been fancying up her makeup–"I guess I'll just have to go without you. How terrible, little old me, scared and alone, walking down the road after dark without someone to protect me," she pouted.

"Oh, ha ha, very funny. We both know you could kick anyone who tried to bother you's ass without even looking."

Giggling, she picked up her bag (and a few blades) and turned towards the door. Looking back at me one more time, she gave me a middle-fingered salute before about-facing and heading through to the outside.

"See ya later, loser," she called back before the door closed all the way.

Even though she was already gone, I still mumbled a quiet "punk" under my breath after her, before setting off to start my research.

————

Three hours, several coffee refills, a few dead ends, and one (minor) mental break down later, I was really no closer to finding the thing we were hunting, and there was a crash outside the hotel door.

Lidia had been out for a while, there was a chance it was just her returning from whatever bar she had gone to, shit faced and unable to walk correctly, therefore knocking something into the door or the like, or, my least favorite option, it was something supernatural or other here to kill me.

Moving to grab a gun, I silently stalk towards the window beside the door. There's a few more dull thuds on the door, and some odd, wounded-animal type noise comes through the wood. Cautiously, I move the curtain a few centimeters, just enough to peer through without being spotted.

There, pushed up against the door, is my sister, some idiot attached to her at the lips, with hands going places I'd rather not think about when it comes to my sibling.

Grimacing, I turn around, shove my gun into the waistline of my jeans, and move to quickly grab my laptop and a few books. Maybe if I hurry I can get out of here before they actually start fucking, this time.

Hurrying towards it, the door suddenly opens, and in spills a very shirtless (and totally not attractive, what?) man, and my sister, who was now working on pulling her bra off. They shuffle towards one of the beds, and somewhere in the back if my head I register that its my bed that they're going towards as I awkwardly move around them, trying not to alert them of my presence. I didn't wanna deal with that conversation again.

Finally getting all the way to the door, I carefully pulled it open as not to bother the two, and backed out of the doorway. Glancing up, I got a full view of Lidia's tit before I managed to actually get out of the door.

I quietly closed the door, making sure that the click of the hinges was quiet enough that it wouldn't disturb the couple inside.

Pausing for a second, I couldn't help the dramatic shiver that rattled my body.

"That is-- that is far more of her than I ever needed to see," I winced.

Turning to go find a place to settle down while my sister and the stranger... did their thing, I came face-to-face with a brick wall. Well, more face-to-chest, actually, and brick wall wasn't quite right, I guess. He was closer to a tank. Even at the few paces away from me that he stood, he still seemed incredibly tall. Long-ish brown hair curled around his ears, and his face was undoubtedly attractive. A small smile (that I definitely did not find adorable, I don't know what you're talking about, I'm totally, definitely, one hundred percent straight) tugged at full lips and his eyes stared down at me questioningly. I could feel an ugly blush climbing up my neck.

"Uh– heh, uhm, my, my– uh my–" my awkward stuttering was cut off when the man huffed a small laugh, and spoke.

"You must be the brother."

...

"Heh?" His smile only broadened at my perplexed stare and he took a few steps closer to me. I couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated by the guy's humongous stature, though his face seemed innocent and kind enough. Still, in my line of work, you can never be too careful. I instinctively felt my hand reach for the gun still hidden in my waistband.

"In, uh, in there," he pointed lightly at the door I'd just come out of, "my brother, he's the one with your sister. She was talking about a brother at her motel, I, uh, I guess that'd be you," he finished off, trailing out slightly as he realized he had nothing more to say. It was his turn to blush.

I let myself relax slightly, I didn't think he was so much of a threat anymore.

Smiling slightly, I couldn't not let my eyes glance over him.

Uh, in as purely heterosexual way, obviously.

His shoulders were stupidly broad, and under his denim coat I was sure there had to lay muscle. Before, when I said he was tall, I don't think you really got the full picture. The awning thing that came off the front of the hotel to protect anyone on the sidewalk was probably your standard seven foot high roof; this guys head was only a few inches under it. He was huge. His face was young, but had a whisper behind it that said that he'd seen some things someone his age generally didn't. The dimples on either side of that blindingly bright smile made him just so much more attractive, and I couldn't not find him cute. (Once again, in a totally hetero way, I'm really, definitely, completely Not Gay.)

Figuring that I couldn't stand there and gawk any longer without coming off as creepy, I finally spoke up.

"Uh, yeah, Lidia. And your brother. That was–" I shuddered slightly, "–that was a sight I never needed to see."

He chuckled slightly and took a few steps closer to me. I was still a bit wary, but I let him come closer without pulling a gun on him, anyway.

"Yeah, no, it's not pleasant. He's done the same thing to me before."

I blanched up at him (damn, he really is tall) and thought to the scene that was unraveling right inside the door. Didn't he say he was his brother? I mean, to each your own, but damn—

"No! No, not—" he cut off my train of thought, growing redder by the second. He took a few more steps forward until he was right in front of me, holding his hands up in surrender. "I mean— I meant barging into the room with a partner while I was still there like that, not-not that he's—not that he's done, done that—" I cut him off, wanting to end the poor babbling disasters misery.

Cracking a smile, I laugh gently at him and reach out to touch his arm and make him pause.

"Oh-oh, its okay, calm down man, I getcha, I getch—"

MOAN

My sisters pleasured voice cut me off and made me freeze up, my face burning red.

"Nope, nope, nopety nope nope nope, can we please go anywhere else and continue this conversation? Literally anywhere, oh my fuck, oh my—" I started walking before he could say anything, not wanting to have to suffer through another sound like that.

He chuckled again as I passed him and quickly caught up to me, reaching out to gently grab my arm before I got to far.

"My, uh– we could hang out in my room for a while. 'Till they're, ya know, done," he grimaced and nodded his head towards the room to the direct right of ours. He hadn't seemed dangerous so far, so I mean, why not?

I nodded hesitantly and let the man lead me into the room, noting the fact that his hand didn't leave my arm until the very last second.

He let me in first and closed the door softly behind us. I have never been so thankful that these walls were thicker than any other motel's walls in existence. If I focused hard enough, I could almost imagine that the faint moaning was just sound coming from the little box TV.

The room was set up pretty much the same as ours. The same, mildewy wallpaper, two twin sized mattresses on either side of the room with the same pale comforter tucked around a paper pillow. A few littler things did stick out to me, though. The pre packed buggout bags sitting right at the end of both beds, the laptop that sat on the bedside table with a bunch of papers laying haphazardly around it, a half-drank coffee cup sitting beside it. The scene seemed oddly familiar.

"My, uh," the man's voice cut off my searching eyes, "my name's Sam, by the way. I don't think I said that before." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and I definitely didn't find it cute. At all. Nope.

Sam. It fit him. I like it.

Smiling up at him, (and totally not noticing how his frame would almost take up the entire door frame that he stood beside) I opened my mouth to respond, only to be cut off again by a crash from the room next door and an even louder moan. I grimaced, the awkwardly smiled up at him once again.

"I'm (name), it's, uh, it's nice to meet ya?" How do people socialize again?

"Uh, yeah, nice to meet you, too." Well that's reassuring, at least he seems just about as nervous as I am.

He stepped forward a bit and awkwardly held his hand out to me, which I accepted with a small, close-lipped smile. The moment our skin made contact, I genuinely didn't want to let go. The warmth of his overly-large hand was intoxicating, and his touch made me oddly giddy.

Looking up into his eyes, I found, was a total mistake. A stunning mixture of smokey hazel and green, small flecks of honey dotted his iris'. His eyes seemed so deep. Seemed so much older than they really were, once again, like he'd seen far more in his life than an average man his age could ever claim. Not to be dramatic or anything, but he was absolutely captivating.

I don't really know how long we sat there and stared at each other, but by the time I finally realized how weird it probably was, and forced myself to look away, I was starting to feel a bit light headed. Let's blame that on lack of sleep and an excess of coffee, and not on whatever was causing my stomach to flutter so dangerously as it was.

"Heh," I looked down towards our feet, my face flushing dramatically. I'm sure by now I'm about as red as a baboons ass, and only flushing redder as I realized that he was still holding my hand.

"Uh-uhm, so, uh, Sam--" I stuttered pathetically, focussing on the hand that still held mine until he awkwardly let go. "--what, uh, what do you do for a living?"

And so the night kicked off just like that. Soon enough, we were both sat cross legged on the bed, sharing stories (all the ones that I could think of that didn't involve murder or monsters) and trading memories. I learned that he had planned to be a lawyer, and was almost done with his course when some unmentioned family drama popped up, and he had to take a sudden leave. I found out that he traveled for work with his brother (a sentence that seemed suspiciously familiar) and that he loved to read. He told me how his girlfriend had died in some terrible house fire only a few months before (my heart definitely didn't freeze up at the fact that he had a girlfriend, shut up) and that he still had nightmares about her. We talked for hours, and, unlike with most people, I never once got bored of it.

I really don't know how long we sat there and chatted, but, by the time the doorframe to the room was vomiting up a sweaty and slightly-drunk older brother, my eyes had started to sag with exhaustion.

"Wa-Sam-Who's this?" Dean (Sam had spoken of him frequently over the evening) slurred slightly, gazing at me with an almost accusatory look. Before I had the chance to respond, Sam was already up and talking, standing between us almost protectively.

"(Name). He's, uh, he's the little brother of the girl you...were with, tonight." He seemed uncertain at exactly what he was saying, but he got the point across.

Being as he was still standing guard in front of me like he was (why on earth was he doing that?), Dean had to lean around him to look at me, which made Sam fidget nervously, for some reason.

"Dean--"

"(Name), you should probably be headed back, it's getting kinda late and I'm sure your sisters wondering where you're at," Dean cut his brother off, leaning further around Sam to look at me. Not gonna lie, he kinda scared me. Standing, I moved to grab the things I'd escaped the room with earlier, and headed for the door, turning back to beckon Sam a good night, I caught sight of them staring at eachother like they were having a silent argument, and just darted out the door, instead of saying anything. Maybe we'd meet again one day.

The air was cold, and it had gotten very dark in the time that I was hidden away in the room with Sam. I walked briskly back to my own room, opened the door with my key, and hesitantly poked my head in, not wanting to wake my sister if she'd fallen asleep.

"So there  you are, (nickname), out getting some dick, were you?"

Ugh.

[bangchanshehe]

The Only One pt. 2

You and your life long best friend Chanyeol were like the same person. You knew everything about one another, and whatever problems you had you faced it together. But what are you supposed to do when you discover that your best friend loves you so much that only he can be important to you, and would go to great lengths to make sure that he was the only one? Yandere!AU

Chanyeol X OC

Word count: 2.1k

The next morning you had woken up and made yourself a pot of coffee, half expecting for the noise to wake up Chanyeol from his sleep, but he continued to snore away in your bedroom. You stood in silence as you made your cup of coffee just the way that you like it and left the rest for Chan since you knew that he liked to have lots.  

You normally would have sat in bed as you drank your cup and scrolled through Instagram and twitter, but since Chanyeol was still sleeping you decided it would be best to sit on the couch, so you wouldn’t wake him up.

You opened up Instagram and scrolled through your feed and smiled when you came across an image from one of your favorite true-crime podcasts’. The image was of the two hosts with an image of a broken-down door and the tinder icon. In this week’s episode we discuss a missing person’s cold case who was last seen on a date with a tinder match. Your eyes widened after you processed how terrifying people and online dating apps could be, but the image of the broken-down door really caught your attention the most.

You looked over to your door, eyeing it to guesstimate how easy it would be for it to be broken-down. Sure, it was a metal door, but more and more people were becoming concerned with people’s ability to disarm doors with password entryways. Wait…

You never told Chanyeol what your new password was for the apartment.

You thought of a moment when you could have text him or mentioned that it was changed, but you came up short for an answer. You were positive that you hadn’t told Chanyeol that you had changed it again, but then again he wouldn’t have been able to get into the apartment unless you definitely had mentioned it to him. You pursed your eyebrows as you frowned and let out a loud sigh.

“who made you so upset so early in the morning?” Chanyeol said with a soft smile as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

You jumped and your expression instantly changed into one of shock, at the sound of Chanyeol’s voice. You were so wrapped up into your own thoughts that you hadn’t even realized that he was awake and up.

“holy shit, you scared me” you said with a nervous laugh

Chanyeol smiled as he made his way into the living room to sit and drink with you. “sorry, I didn’t mean to” he said with laughter in his voice.

You gave him a soft glare as he sat down next to you. Your body sank into the cushions at the pressure of his body weight and your knees bumped into each other’s. Chanyeol took a sip of his drink and then relaxed against the back of the couch. You looked over his features noticing the dark circles under his eyes that you hadn’t noticed last night or in the video chats. Concern etched its way across your face as you continued to notice the little flaws on chan’s face the longer you stared.

“how did you sleep?” you asked him softly

He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes and then lifted his head up to speak to you and take another sip of his drink “really well, but you know that I always slept better with you.”

You hummed and nodded your head, feeling a little bit better knowing that at least he rested well. “hey Chan…?”  you asked and he faced you “how did you know my entry code? I just changed it the other day and don’t remember tell you the new one”

Chanyeol paused for a moment as he considered how to answer your question “I tried the old one and it didn’t work so I just entered in passwords that I thought you might use” he answered with a straight face

You nodded your head and sat in silence for a few moment while you considered his answer. It’s true that you had used a pretty basic password that you typically always use, but you didn’t think that you were heavy enough of a sleeper to be able to sleep through multiple attempts at opening the door. You cocked your head to the sighed and closed your eyes for a moment

Why were you feeling so anxious about such a small thing? It’s not like Chanyeol was a threat to you in any way or that he had information that he didn’t already know. You let out a sigh and tried to physically let go of your cautionary feelings.

“I guess that makes sense” you suggested and Chanyeol gave you a sarcastic smile “what are your plans for today?” you asked him ready to move past the old conversation

“mmm” he hummed and looked up at your ceiling as if he was debating “I’ve got class until 2 but after that I’m probably just going to find a quiet place to study”  he answered “what about you?” he asked with a more serious face

“just class, and then I’m going to go study with a friend” you said with a small smile trying to hide your excitement as much as possible

“with a friend?” Chanyeol questioned and you nodded your head “well, let me know how it goes, I need to get moving so I can get to class on time” he said standing up to put his empty coffee cup in the sink

You watched as he grabbed his phone and slipped on his shoes then headed out the door, waving bye to you. You waved back with a smile on your face but when he was gone you frowned at the door. He seemed so on edge and different lately… like he was always angry all the time. You thought to yourself what could be going on with him to make him seem so on edge and look so worn out.

Were classes becoming to tough for him? Was he stresses? Was he having a hard time at work? no.. he would have said something about whatever was getting to him if something was seriously going on, you thought to yourself.

You looked down at your phone and checked the time and nearly gasped when you saw what time it was.

“shit!” you yelled as you put your cold coffee down on your table and ran off to your bathroom to get ready.

   You were only three hours, and two classes into your normal day when you felt your eyes start to droop and your will to stay awake rapidly decreasing. That is until you felt your forehead hit your desk, startling you awake. No not your desk… a hand. You looked down at it with tired confusion and then over to the owner and you were instantly awake when you saw a smiling Jongin leaning in towards to.

“are you okay?” he asked through quiet laughter

You cleared your throat and looked around the room looking to see if anyone noticed the most embarrassing moment in your life thus far. Thank god you sat towards the back of the lecture hall, no one seemed to have noticed you other than Jongin.

You sighed and put your hands over your face for a moment

“yeah I’m fine. I guess I’m just feeling pretty tired” you suggested.

“yeah?” he said with a smile while looking down at his watch “we only have 20 minutes left, just put your head down and rest, I’ll take notes for the two of us” he offered

You gave him a small smile and a small bow before folding your arms and taking the much-needed power nap.

You felt like you had just closed your eyes when a tap on your shoulder and the sounds of loud footsteps woke you up. You opened your eyes to seeing a smiling Jongin once again hovering over you.

Damn, I could get used to this…

“good morning sleeping beauty” he said jokingly

you smiled and quietly packed your things into your bag, too embarrassed to know what to even say to him right now.

“do you have anything to do right now?” he asked you breaking the awkward silence

You looked up to see him avoiding your eyes as he packed with a shy grin on his face. “not really. Why?” you asked knowing where the conversation was about to go but not wanting to be the one to have to initiate the alone time

“do you maybe want to go get something to eat and study with me?” he asked  

You stood up feeling uncomfortable having to face him while having the conversation so close to one another “sure, where should we go?” you asked trying to not let the smile spread so obviously across your face

Jongin stood up quickly to follow behind you as you left the classroom “well there’s this really good pizza place just a few blocks away that we could go to” he suggested

“that sounds good” you said putting your hand over your stomach.

The two of you walked in pretty comfortable silence as you walked out of the building and across campus. Of course Jongin was getting his typical stares of appreciation for being so handsome, and you got glares and looks of confusion. As in.. why would someone who was as typical as you be walking with someone even remotely as popular or attractive as Jongin. You just gave the girls petty smiles as they eyed you and continued on your way trying not to let them bother you.

“so did you have a rough night or something?” Jongin asked breaking the silence once more

You looked over at him and gave him a small apologetic smile “not really, I had a friend that came over pretty late to stay with me. but I still slept for a while and pretty well too”

He hummed in acknowledgement “you seemed pretty wiped in class”

“yeah, I don’t know what’s wrong with me today” you admitted looking down at your feet as you walked “so when did you come sit next to me today? I don’t remember you being there at the beginning of the lecture…” you asked

Jongin laughed to himself and looked away before he turned back to you to give you a smile “I noticed you starting to fall asleep and you looked like you were going to possibly hurt your head so I moved to  make sure you would be okay”

You mentally slapped yourself. Of course, you made a total embarrassment out of yourself in front of the hottest guy on campus.

“at least I didn’t snore or anything embarrassing like that” you said with a horrified look on your face

Jongin practically snorted “well actually…” he started and your turned to look at him with complete sorrow on your face “it wasn’t loud enough for everyone to hear it, but I did a little” he confessed

You had completely stopped dead in your tracks and covered your face with your hands in embarrassment. Jongin quietly approached you and put a hand on your head, giving you small loving pats on your head, making people around gasp and stare even harder than they already were.

“don’t be embarrassed… it was kind of cute” he confessed quietly. He removed his hand and walked away silently, leaving you behind to process the information that he just shared with you.

Your hands dropped and you watched him as he walked away slowly and looked back at you with a shy smile. You put your head down for a moment to collect yourself before you sped walked to catch up with Jongin.

As you reached his side he continued to look forward, and smile until you had arrived at the pizza shop. He gestured at the front door and then pulled it open allowing you to go inside first. The smell of cheese, garlic and bread made you practically drool like a slob.

You scanned the shop and looked at the design of the restaurant, it was clean but had lots of clutter on the wall, like hub caps, license plates, signed images of celebrities, concert posters, neon signs… it fit in with the college aesthetic. You scanned the booths and saw that all of the chairs and tables were empty except for a few. you were about to suggest a booth to Jongin when something caught your eyes.

You looked up at a customer and nearly laughed out loud out of nervousness. Chanyeol sat there giving you a big goofy smile. You reciprocated it back but as soon as Jongin came to your side with a menu his smile dropped and was replaced with a fake smile and a dead look in his eyes.

[pinkpudgypearl]

i don’t know if i should write about this in here or if i should stick to only opening up on my little notebook but oh well im fucking exhausted and i need to let off some fucking steam. today was the math final. basically what happened is, i knew how to solve everything. every fucking thing. even though it was actually way harder than the first trial. it really fucking was. but i just didnt have enough time or space on my answer sheets. i even had the answers to some questions in my drafts because i’d skipped them and then remembered how theyre solved, so i basically thought i’d write them in the end so that they’d be seen easily. so that i wouldnt fucking lose their grade. anyways, they took my paper while i was drawing the last function. but i still hadn’t revised and i still hadnt finished answering the little questions i left till the end because i wanted to keep things neat; those questions probably make up a third of my fucking grade. maybe even more. in my first math trial i finished writing everything i knew in the first half hour. i only used up about 3 sheets or so. but this time i still had so much to write but i had no time or space left. this is what i was talking about in my notebook two days ago actually. its how the only consistency i seem to bear is failure. and i talked about how tempting it was to stop trying. how it would honestly be so much less painful to not have to try and still end up fucking failing. i honestly have to wonder why i still keep thinking that maybe,, just maybe, this time will be different. that ill be good. everything i have ever done begs to pose that question. maybe im dumb to still think i can ever be a good girl. i’ll never be one. i also talked about how i shouldnt blame my existence for the way i am. that i should fault the real wrongdoer; whether it be my person, my souls corruption, my putrid form, etc. but honestly,, what else could i have done to have not ended up in this situation. i finished all the answer sheets im allowed. i was literally writing as they took the paper away from me. i didnt take breaks. i didnt just stare at nothingness. i was solely focused on every question as it came to me. i studied hard. i made sure i practiced every idea and how to use it and made sure i used it correctly. i solved exam upon exam. i solved questions i was never able to solve during the year. and i worked my fucking ass off over the past two days and got four hours of sleep in total over those 60+ hours. i avoided breaking down as hard as i could because i knew that that was something that always made my grades terrible. i tried to sin as little as fucking possible to maybe try and get spirituality to aid me with not failing too. the two days leading up to it were spent solely in my room just practicing and making sure i got a handle on everything. i studied pretty fucking hard for this test. and then comes the final day of judgement. i got about an hour of sleep, drank my fucking cup of espresso or black coffee or whatever the fuck it is as fast as i could and ran out there. i was fucking throwing up bile all the way over there and i tried my hardest to keep myself calm and relaxed. moved bit by bit, making sure i took meticulous care of each answer. and i left the ones that didnt completely work out till the end. oh well youre all caught up on what happened afterwards. is it just in the cards for me? that ill always fail? that ill never be a good girl? that ill never surprise anyone with my “abilities”? maybe the reason i cant is because i have none. maybe i was just delusional and i convinced myself that i could maybe have a chance. i guess that kind of behavior aligns with my person. mistaken, failing, delusional, you name it. this couldve been such a great opportunity. i couldve fucking aced this final. i genuinely believe i could’ve and you know that isnt easy to say because i do understand what im capable of now. i had those answers in the draft and the rest were meticulously planned in my head. i couldve gone to that fucking faculty and i wouldnt have had to pay (1/2)

[silverlightqueen]

Writing’s On The Wall 

silverlightqueen’s SKZ Scarefest

ghost!Jeongin x human!reader - comedy, angst, Jeongin will stop at nothing to make sure no one moves into his house and y/n is tired of it

Word Count: 2.8k+

Summary - y/n’s job as a real estate agent has always been easy. Selling houses in District 9 has never been particularly difficult - people line up to live in the famed ‘Spooky City’ - and y/n just has the gift of the gab, meaning she’s got the highest number of sales in the company. But one house, she just can’t seem to shift. It could be the tiny box room on the third floor, or the slightly beaten down garden fence, or the ghost that scares away every family that comes to view the house. Yeah, it’s probably the ghost.

Warnings: death, ghosts, stuff that looks like blood but isn’t, I think that’s it but please let me know if I missed something!

a/n: and here is the eighth instalment of my SKZ Scarefest! I really hope you guys enjoy this, and thank you @silverlightprincess​ for proofreading, you’re the best! please be sure to check out the previous parts and keep an eye out for the last part tomorrow! x

taglist: @kodzu-ken​ @cloudsgathering​ @silverlightprincess

silverlightqueen navigation

My heart gets heavier and heavier as I near 325 Sunshine Street, my mood souring when I turn onto the road. Don’t get me wrong – it’s a beautiful neighbourhood. If someone’s on their front garden as you drive past, they’ll wave and smile, and everyone is so generous, kind and friendly. The houses are all big and pretty, and I can see myself living somewhere like this one day, when I’ve got a family of my own. But now, whilst I’m a struggling real estate agent, this road is my personal hell.

Maybe calling myself ‘struggling’ is an exaggeration. I mean, I’m fresh out of school and my sales are already blowing my colleagues’ sales out of the water. It probably helps that my parents own the company, so they tend to give me the best houses to sell, but that’s beside the point. The point is that I am far from struggling. But this house, 325 Sunshine Street, is the bane of my existence. I’ve been trying to sell this house for months, and every time someone shows interest, it just gets ruined.

I pull up in the driveway, having a moment to collecting myself before I push open the car door, stepping out and smoothing down my pink skirt. I reach in and grab my handbag from the passenger seat before shutting the door behind me. I look up at the house, taking a deep breath, before heading up to the front door. I push the key into the lock, turning it and opening the door, wiping my court shoes on the mat as I shut the door behind me.

I hear a sudden commotion from upstairs, sighing as I head into the kitchen, and I decide to busy myself with the coffee machine whilst I wait for him to grace me with his presence. It doesn’t take him long to materialise, and I don’t even bother looking up when he walks in, just raising a hand in greeting. ‘Morning, y/n,’ he says sweetly, and I can hear the grin in his voice, just humming in response.

It started with little things. Taps suddenly running in rooms we weren’t in, or the back door creaking whilst we were upstairs. These things weren’t enough to put the customers off – leaky taps can be fixed, and so can dodgy doors. So then, when customers would come for their second viewings, things became a little worse. Flickering lights and glasses smashing. Most people would decide against the house at the point, but the slightly braver ones would be subjected to even worse. Doors slamming in their face, or things levitating and then flying at them. They’d leave the house running and screaming.

At first, I’d been a little unnerved, wondering if the house was possessed or something, but eventually, I just got annoyed. This house was taking up too much of my time, and totally ruining my sales stats. So I made a decision that I’d fix this problem, no matter what.

The next time I went was not for a showing, or an open house. I went by myself, and I sat in the living room, and waited. For hours and hours. So long that I fell asleep. When I woke, it was late evening, pitch black outside, but the lamp had been turned on, and there was a blanket on me. I came back the next day, and did the same, and there was a blanket on me again when I woke, the lamp on and a lukewarm hot chocolate on the coffee table before me. I drank the hot chocolate before making another one and leaving it out on the counter. When I came back the next day, the two mugs had been washed and put away in the cupboard.

There was someone living in this house, but I had a feeling they weren’t actually… living.

For weeks, we did the same thing nearly every day. I’d fall asleep after waiting for so long, and I’d wake up to a warm and bright house with the radiators blasting out heat and the lights turned on, a blanket on me, and a hot chocolate ready and waiting. Sometimes, I’d arrive to a book on the sofa beside where I sat, there for me to read, or I’d wake to my phone on charge because it had died. A few times, when I didn’t bring any food, there’d be a pizza or a burger and chips from the takeout place down the road waiting for me, and I’d always leave half. When I’d come back the next day, it’d be finished with the packaging thrown in the bin.

Around two month ago, I woke up to a boy with bubblegum pink hair sat on the sofa opposite me. His face was young and innocent, but a little sharp around the edges. I blinked in surprise a couple times before asking, ‘What’s your name?’ He was silent for a moment before replying in a small voice, ‘I.N.. And you’re y/n y/l/n, from y/l/n Estate Agents.’ ‘I.N., why haven’t you said hello to me yet?’ I asked, and he hesitated. ‘I thought you might be angry with me,’ he said quietly, looking down at his hands, and I felt my heart go out to him a little. ‘I’m not angry. A little frustrated, and curious, but not angry.’ ‘Curious?’ ‘Why don’t you want anyone to move in?’ I asked, and he didn’t reply for a few moments. ‘Because… I want to live here. Not with anyone else,’ he whispered, and I raised an eyebrow.

‘You’re a ghost. You can literally go anywhere you want, in the whole world, and you want to stay at 325 Sunshine Street?’ I asked, and he nodded. ‘There’s nowhere else I want to be, other than here,’ he replied, not meeting my eyes, and I sighed. ‘The thing is… the previous owner needs me to sell the house. They need the money,’ I said, and he looked up at me in confusion before realisation passed across his face, and I wondered what he was thinking. ‘Well… can’t I just buy it?’ ‘Do you have money?’ I asked, and he shook his head miserably. ‘So… no, unfortunately, I.N., you can’t buy it. I have to sell it.’

‘But you can’t sell it if no one will buy it.’ ‘No one will buy it because you’re scaring them off. So you need to stop,’ I said softly, and he looked up at me with pity in his eyes. ‘I won’t stop. I’m not letting anyone move in,’ he said gently, as though breaking bad news to me, and I raised an eyebrow at him. ‘So, if I can’t sell the house by a certain time, someone else will be given the house to sell, and they won’t be as kind as me when they find out a ghost is living here. They’ll call the Busters to get rid of you,’ I said, his eyes widening. ‘But… but I can’t leave. I have nowhere to go,’ he said, beginning to panic, and I took a deep breath. ‘I.N., the world is your oyster. You have so many different places to go.’ ‘No, you don’t understand. I have to stay here. Please, y/n,’ he begged, and I was taken aback. ‘But, I.N., there’s nothing I can do. I have to sell the house.’

It’s been two months since then, and the house is still not sold.  As you probably guessed. I even offered for him to move in with me, I was that desperate, but he would not leave that house, not for anything. And over time, he only got worse and worse. I’d arrive with potential buyers to find dead animals dotted around the house, terrible rotting smells hanging thick on the air, bees’ nests planted in the kitchen cupboards. And yet, when it was just he and I, and he’d materialise from thin air beside me, I never had the heart to shout at him. He’s looks my own age, and I just found him so tragic. A young boy who died and is now doomed to roam the Earth until he figures out what his unfinished business is, and is too scared to venture out into the world, so he sticks to 325 Sunshine Street. And so instead, I’d order takeout and we’d sit on the floor of the living room with blankets and watch a kids’ film together.

I’ve been getting a lot of shit from my parents – they just don’t understand why I can’t sell the house. It’s in the perfect location, and it’s the perfect house. But I can’t bring myself to tell them that even though people want to live in the Spooky City, they don’t want ghosts living in their houses. They’d probably get Busters into the house without another word, and I can’t let that happen to I.N., or whatever his real name is. He’s too… young, too sweet.

‘How many people are viewing today?’ he asks, jumping up onto the countertop as I hand him a cup of coffee. ‘Just one family. What have you got planned today?’ I ask tiredly, before taking a sip of my coffee, and he looks a little uncomfortable. ‘I… I’m not g-’ ‘gonna tell me, okay,’ I say, sliding into one of the seats at the dining table, and he’s just silent. ‘y/n-’ ‘Don’t, I.N., not today. I’m too tired. They’re gonna be here in about ten minutes, and I want to save my energy,’ I murmur, and he just nods, the air tense as we drink our coffee. I really like him, maybe a little too much, but my patience is starting to wear thin with this damn house.

We sit in a slightly uncomfortable silence, but I don’t mind, sipping on my coffee and collecting what’s left of my sanity for these potential customers today. When we hear the knock on the door, we both look at each other, I.N. grinning at me, and I can’t hold back the small smile on my face, rolling my eyes as he fades into thin air. I head to the front door, taking a deep breath and smiling widely as I open it, greeting the family warmly.

I let them in, and the kids are practically bouncing off the walls in excitement as I show them around the bottom floor, giving them the speech I’ve said enough times to be able to recite in my sleep. Everything’s going well, no dead animals or bad smells, and I can feel myself getting more and more nervous with each room I show them around, wondering what he’s got planned, but there’s nothing. We do the entire second floor, and not one thing goes wrong. I wonder if he’s decided to give up with scaring people off, hoping that, finally, this goddamn house will be off my hands. The family all seem to love the house, and I start to get a really good feeling about this.

And then we head up to the third floor, and as we reach the top of the stairs, my heart drops. There are little red drops on the floor, leading around to the bedroom, and I can hear the family whispering behind me as I continue on with my speech, trying to pretend that nothing’s happened. But when we step into the bedroom, I can’t really pretend anymore.

The words ‘GET OUT’ are written on the wall, massive bright red letters from floor to ceiling, the thick liquid dripping down in sinister lines. The family behind me are gasping, the kids screaming, but my reaction is pure rage, my fists balling up as I try to contain myself. ‘Is that blood?’ one of the kids asks, running into the room, and then I spot a bucket hanging on the light fixture. I feel time stop when the bucket tips a little, the kid stood just beneath it, and I act quicker than I ever have before, though it feels like I’m moving in slow motion. I grab the little kid, moving them out of the way and I feel the bucket land on my head only a moment later, liquid splashing all over my body.

I pull the bucket off my head as I take deep, ragged breaths, trying desperately to keep hold of myself as the family stare at me in shock and fear. They don’t even ask if I’m okay before they grab the kid and run, their footsteps thundering down the stairs. I’m silent until I hear the front door slam behind them, and then I scream, ‘I.N.!’

He materialises in front of me, panic all over his face, and I look down at myself, my pretty pink skirt and blazer set, my white blouse, my entire body covered in the thick red bloodlike liquid that’s on the wall. ‘Is this blood?’ I ask calmly, closing my eyes to try and keep myself together. ‘No, no, it’s this recipe I found on mumsnet, with corn syrup and food colouring and stuff. It wasn’t supposed to go on you, though, y/n, I’m s-’ ‘Don’t tell me you’re sorry, because you’re not. If you were sorry about all this, you wouldn’t have done it,’ I whisper, the boy looking at me with frantic guilt in his eyes. ‘y/n-’ ‘Don’t. I’m leaving. Someone else can try sell the house. I’m done,’ I say softly, stepping around him to leave. He grabs my hand and I wrench it away, not looking back at him once.

I hear him following me, but he doesn’t say a thing, not whilst I put our coffee cups in the sink and fill them with water to soak, not whilst I tidy my things away into my bag, not whilst I head towards the door. And then he whispers something, so softly I can’t hear, and I hesitate with my hand halfway to the door handle. ‘What was that?’ ‘I said… I’m Yang Jeongin,’ he breathes out, eyes full of tears, and the words hit me like a ton of bricks.

Everyone knows the Yangs. They were a lovely family who lived in Spooky City, just a couple streets over from where I grew up, and even if you didn’t know the Yangs personally, you knew of them, and how kind and generous they were. Their son went to my school – he was a couple years older than me, and he had this friendship group, 8 of them I think. They were the popular boys – you wanted them, or wanted to be them. I didn’t really know any of them except for the most popular one, Felix, who was known for his deeper than deep voice. I couldn’t tell the others apart, or even pick them out in a crowd, so I didn’t really know Yang Jeongin.

Everyone knew that that friendship group had bought a house together, the worst one on Sunshine Street, and had planned to move in together just after school. They spent months fixing it up, making it fit to live in, and they finished just before end-of-year exams. After exams, the Yang family went on holiday, and died in a tragic plane crash. It broke the boys to lose their friend, and they ended up not moving into the house. I never heard about what happened to the house but now, I finally connect the dots and realise I’m stood in it, with Yang Jeongin himself.

‘I can’t let go of my house, our house, that we spent so long on, that we put our hearts into. This was gonna be our home. I can’t let it be anything other than our home. I’m sorry, y/n, but I can’t. I’ve had to let go of my family, but I can’t let go of my brothers. They still come here sometimes – they just drive past and stop for a second – and I don’t ever want them to come here and see another family living in our house, our home. I know they’re trying to sell it, they think that’s what they want, but they don’t. They really don’t. They can’t let go of our home,’ he breaks down, tears running down his face, and I feel my heart breaking. ‘I.N.. Jeongin. I… I’m sorry,’ I whisper, lifting my arms, and he falls into them, and I just hold him, his choked sobs the only noise in the quiet house.

And then I wait until he’s calmed down a little before I take my arms from around him, holding his hands in mine and stifling a laugh when I see that he’s now covered in the fake blood too. ‘We won’t let go. We’re not letting of this house. I promise you,’ I say to him seriously, eyes locked with his soft brown ones, ‘I’ll keep hold of your home if it’s the last thing that I do.’