#on monday i found out i had a bonus five days to work on my draft bc the deadline (which i thought was tuesday) had been incorrect

[thevioletcaptain]

my ideal work conditions today would involve one of those sensory deprivation tanks with a bathtub caddy to stick my laptop on

[tveitertotwrites]

Your mission, if you choose to accept it! :)

I'm sending a GIF to everyone who has participated in Tobias Carrick Appreciation Week this year. Can you create a ficlet (or anything you desire) based on this by Sunday? If so, you'll get one extra chance at the prize to be selected on Monday! :)

Here is your GIF:

It's Not Your Business

Series: Open Heart (Book 1)

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!OC (Adelaide Barnes)

Rating: General

Word Count: 750

Summary: Tobias has had a long day and gets a phone call he wish he didn't get.

A/N: For Tobias Carrick Appreciation Week (as the bonus entry).

A/N 2: I saw this at 1 am this morning and immediately went "Ahehhehhee" and started writing, if that helps.

Tobias was having a rough day at work, dealing with patients who thought they knew better than him, admin giving him a hard time, etc. He was just ready to head home for dinner and a drink, or a few. 

When he got to his office, he had probably been in there for less than five minutes before his phone rang. 

“Dr. Carrick’s office.” The other side didn’t answer. “Hello?” No answer again and he hangs up the phone. A minute later, the phone rings again from the same number and he answers. “...Hello?”.

“Hey sorry about that, I was trying to speak but I guess you couldn’t hear me.” The voice said. “My dad told me not to call you but I felt the need to.”

Tobias furrows his brow. “O…k. Who are you? And what is it?” The line is silent for a second, “I was digging through some of my dad’s old storage bins and found some documents of a biological kid of his named Tobias Carrick. Oh, and my name is Jason Carrick.”

Tobias freezes in place. Out of all the things that happened today, this takes the top spot. Jason keeps saying “Hello” to no answer. Eventually Tobias unfreezes and slams the phone down. He then lowers his head and brushes his short hair back and forth. He is lost in thought enough to not hear a knock on his door and the door opening.

“Dr. Carrick?” He looks up to see Adelaide. She stands in the doorway, debating if she should keep a straight face or try a fake smile. “Dr. Bira told me to deliver these files to you.” Adelaide walks over to his desk. 

Tobias sighs and takes the files from Adelaide and starts going through them. “You know, it’s best to knock before entering a private space.” Adelaide lowers her gaze at him, “I did.” Tobias looks up at her briefly before turning his attention back to the files. “Oh, I guess I didn’t notice.”

“Clearly. You had your head down.” Tobias continues reading through the files and Adelaide sits in the chair across from him. “You don’t look so good. Are you okay, Dr Carick?”

Tobias sighs and sets down the files, knowing that he won’t be left alone if he doesn’t give her a satisfactory answer. “I’m fine. Frankly, it’s not your business to be worrying about me. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He picks the files back up and continues reading them. 

Adelaide then tightly closes her mouth and leaves his office.  About an hour later, Tobias leaves his office to go home and Adelaide goes on a break.

The next day, Tobias heads to his office when he sees an envelope on his door. He takes the envelope and brings it with him into his office. Tobias sets his things down and opens the envelope to a bright card saying sorry on the front. 

On the inside it says, “I’m sorry if I pushed any buttons yesterday Dr. Carrick. From Adelaide Barnes.” He then sees the gift card to the coffee shop across the street from Mass Kenmore.

Tobias walks out of his office and starts quickly walking around the building, he knows that Adelaide should be wrapping up her shift soon and will be heading home. He ends up spotting her at the nurses desk two minutes before her shift ends. 

“Hey, I need to speak to Dr. Barnes for a minute.” He pulls Adelaide aside. “Listen, you didn’t need to apologize. I had a rough day yesterday and I’m sorry if I made it seem like I was mad at you.”

“Well thank you, but I do feel like I pushed you for information that I don’t need to know.” Tobias blinks slowly. “No. No you didn’t. You asked me a simple question and I took my frustration and anger out on you.” He then hands her the gift card. “While it’s nice, I think you may need it more than I do. In fact, I’ll buy you a coffee the next time we have the same shift.”

Adelaide smiles. “I’d like that. Thank you Dr. Carrick.” Adelaide hugs him, catching Tobias by surprise. He then hugs her back. “You’re welcome Dr. Barnes.” 

Adelaide walks away to grab her things and Tobias heads back to his office. He sits in his chair, contemplating for a few seconds before dialing a number. “Hey Jason, It’s Dr. Carr- Tobias Carrick. You were asking about your dad’s past?”

Perma Tags: @crazy-loca-blog @driverstveit @rookiemartin @zahrachoices

Open Heart: @coffeeheartaddict2 @jerzwriter @liaromancewriter @rafasgirl23415

Other Tags: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @storyofmychoices

[dashofmonsters]

Deep in the Dark Pt. 1

Male Orc x Female Reader

You had been training as a massage therapist for almost five months now. It was a dream job of yours and when you were finally able to afford the class you were over joyed. The school you went to was the best in the area and most either got jobs in the town over or stayed here in Green Vale. Most went to this school with a place in mind and you were no different. You had your heart set on working at Aenon & Aalto Spa and Massage, a relaxing spa that was nestled right outside one of the most lavish resorts.

You had been there once for a girl's weekend when your friend found out she got accepted into her dream college. You didn't know what to expect when you went in since this was your first professional massage but it had been an absolute treat and an eye opener. You received a life changing massage from the famous masseuse Sloan. You recall being intimidated by him at first but as he worked your sore muscles with his large and surprisingly soft hands you felt as if you were about to melt. You had dreams of going back ever since and the easiest way you knew how was to get a job there. You worked hard to save up for class and had done your best to gain recognition from your teachers to help with the application, after all A & A doesn't hire just anyone.

"Hello.... yes... yes... ok.... Thank you. I'll be there Monday." you hang up the phone and try and do everything in your power from exploding in sheer delight.

Your application was accepted and they were so impressed by your recommendations that they asked if you could start next week! You call up your friend and tell her the good news but all she did was tease you about working with that hot orc guy who gave you a massage.

"It's a bonus, I'm not going to lie, but I'm just really excited I got the job on the first try. I really hope I don't blow it though..." you tell her.

"You could just blow him if all else fails," she snorts.

"Liz no! I'd like to keep my job thank you! Besides he probably has someone in his life, someone who hasn't been job hopping aimlessly since high school." you adjust your phone as you fish for one of your wine coolers.

She gives you a disapproving tsk, "Stop talking like that, after all you're not that person anymore girly. You are smart, you are hot af, and you're about to start work as a highly successful massage therapist ok? No more of this pity party shit!"

You couldn't help but to smile, Liz might be crass and blunt, but she's always been in your corner.

"Yes ma'am. So should I go ahead and assume you'll be my customer once you come back for summer?" you ask.

"No, but I hope I can get a friends and family discount... That lamia chick has my business for life." Liz purrs.

You roll your eyes and finish catching up with your friend for the rest of the evening, trying your best to avoid more work talk. It's nice but when you hang up your stomach feels knotted with nerves and too much booze.

You try and sleep it off for the next couple of days, trying to wind down before you start this new and exciting chapter in your life but your lack of confidence starts eating at you.

Come Monday though you seem to have fought enough of it off to show up for work on time and start training. It was by absolute dumb luck that Sloan would be the one training you and when he came into the back office he greeted you with a lazy and toothy grin.

"Sloan, she'll be starting today. I need you to get her up to speed within the next couple of weeks. With Jordan and Yesenia out for maternity leave, we're severely under staffed and right before summer break." Your boss hands him a file with your information in it as she leaves the office.

He holds the file, slouches a bit then lets out a pained sigh., "Always so last minute with her... Sorry about this, I'm not exactly prepared to train anyone today. I have three appointments lined up and I have to stay open for walk-ins. You could uh I guess watch and learn. I can have Miles print you our programs and seasonal specials that way you can put a name to face so to speak."

"Sounds good," you smile and get up to follow him. He leads you to the lobby which is practically empty save for a mother and daughter waiting to enjoy the hot tubs. Sloan gets some print outs for you and has you follow him to the room he works in. You feel your heart start pounding when you remember the massage he gave you a couple years ago.

"Hot towels are here, hot stones here, oils, CDs, LED candles, and the most important part-"

He opens up the last cabinet to reveal an overhaul of snacks and sparkling water. "My stash... I had to hide this when those ladies got pregnant. I didn't mind sharing mind you, these are just my favorites though."

"Noted, stay out of snacks." you laugh and so does he.

His first appointment rolls in and he gives you a quick run down of the program outside the room while the customer prepares for her massage. You watch with the consent of the customer as part of your training and take notes when you see fit. Afterwards you let Sloan have his quick snack break and escort the woman to the lobby where you make sure she drinks plenty of water while you schedule her for her follow up.

"Thanks, I didn't think I'd get to eat till after she left." he says as he pops a chip in his mouth.

You raise a brow and he laughs. "I woke up late as usual and had to speed through all that city traffic, like usual."

"You come all the way from downtown?" you ask.

He nods and empties the rest of the bag in his mouth, licking those thick lips clean of any crumbs.

It's a bit of a drive from downtown you think and he must not get home till pretty late so he probably passes out upon arrival. You decide tomorrow that you'll bring him some breakfast.

The rest of the day comes and goes with no incident. When you clock out though, Sloan is nowhere to be seen. You ask Miles if he's left but he notes that his car is still parked outside. You go back and see if he's in his room and before you could knock on the door you hear him curse and groan.

You think about knocking on the door to see if he's alright but he might be on the phone and you didn't want to interrupt.

When you come in the next morning with breakfast Sloan lifts you off the floor for a hug. You try not to think about it for the rest of the day since he doesn't make a big deal of it but you can't get the thought out of your mind. His huge hand holding you by your waist and how tight his muscles felt when you had to steady yourself against his chest. You'd think about it later, much later, right before bed.

That day and the rest of the week went by very well you thought. You got a good feel for the programs and by Friday they gave you your own room across from his. You got used to him arriving barely on time and he got used to you bringing him breakfast, calling you his savior.

"You're spoiling him," Miles teases you.

"I am not, I just feel bad that he never has any time for breakfast. I'm just trying to be a good coworker." you defend yourself.

Miles grabs one of the mini quiches you were offering, "A good coworker, mmhmm."

You roll your eyes and take the rest of the quiches to the breakroom where everyone can enjoy them. You start on a pot of coffee and in walks Sloan, his hair an absolute mess and his eyes are hardly open.

"You shouldn't be driving if you're not fully awake, it's dangerous. Here." you hand him some water as he slides down onto one of the seats.

The smell of brewing coffee quickly wakes him up enough. He grabs a few of the quiches and scarfs them down as if he hasn't eaten since yesterday. You hand him a cup of coffee that funnily enough says 'starter fluid for the morning impaired'.

"You're an angel," he sighs, breathing in the scent of coffee before taking a sip.

"And you're a hot mess. You should be glad Rachel isn't here yet, she'd have your head if she saw you like this." you lift up a section of his hair and he nearly chokes.

"Oh my god are you ok?" you ask as he tries to catch his breath.

"I'm fine, just uh I... it went down the wrong pipe." he replies.

You double and triple check to make sure he's okay before you start combing through his hair. You're almost surprised by how much there is and even more so at how quiet he is. Usually he's talkative right after his first cup. Miles walks in to grab some coffee as you start braiding Sloan's hair and he gives you a snarky grin and mouths 'you are so spoiling him'.

When you finish up Sloan couldn't thank you enough for the rest of the day since Rachel had decided to do an out of the blue uniform review. Now you know why Sloan was aggravated by her last minute decisions.

During lunch break later that day Sloan disappears like he did on your first day. You assume he probably wants to be left alone or is hiding while napping, something along those lines. When you finish eating you decide to go and prepare for the next appointment a bit early so you can have time to call and check on your mother. As you go down the hallway you can hear Sloan from his room. He sounds like he's talking on the phone again and it doesn't sound good. Maybe you'll ask him about it later.

Days pass after that and you forget to mention it. Your schedule is pretty packed from now all the way up to the first week of August with appointments. Rachel has to hire another masseuse just to keep up with all the walk ins and once again puts Sloan in the position of last minute trainer.

You of course offer to help, especially in the morning since you have a pretty decent grip on the schedule and programs now. The new hire is a tiefling who went to the same school as you. You'd gotten along alright with him before so it was easy to show him the ropes. You'd fill him in every morning over coffee about the programs and the usual walk in customers. Sloan would take him off your hands after lunch and have him help with the laundry since Rachel was out that week.

"I think he's getting into the swing of things," you tell Sloan over lunch one day.

He looks up from his salad, licking some dressing off of one of his tusks. "You think so huh? That's good I guess."

You sigh and go back to your soup. He's been hard to talk to as of late and you can't help but to think it might have something to do with his home life and the conversations he has on the phone.

"Is everything ok?" you finally ask him.

"Yeah why do you ask?" he shovels some more salad in his mouth mindlessly.

"It's just that you've been pretty quiet lately and I know it's none of my business but sometimes I hear you in your room and you sound pretty upset and I was just wondering if everything is ok with your home li-"

Sloan coughs and beats on his chest as he quickly grabs some water and napkins.

"You... you can hear me? I mean you've heard me before?" his face looks flushed when he asks.

"Only a couple times, I just assumed you were on the phone and didn't want to bother you..." you look away from him, feeling stupid for bringing it up.

You hear him sigh heavily, "I see, yeah... on the phone... Please don't tell anyone else."

"I promise," you reach out and take his hands in yours, "but is everything ok with you? You've been looking pretty glum lately."

His expression softens to the point that it looks like he's about to cry, "My nana's been in the hospital for the past four months and just when it looked like she was getting better her doctors said that they found a growth and need to operate asap."

"I'm so sorry. Is there anyone looking after her while you're at work?" you give his hands a squeeze and he shakes his head.

"My folks weren't ready for kids when they had me so nana's been the only family I've ever known. All immediate family lives in the next state over and they're practically estranged." his voice sounds so strained and so tired.

"Is that why you've been late to work recently?" you ask.

"I stay there till they kick me out and I drag myself back home. I hardly have time to hit the shower much less the couch or my bed." he slips his hands out of yours and rubs his face as if to hide the stinging of tears.

Your heart ached for him wishing you could do more for him than just breakfast and fixing his hair on occasions.

The next day Sloan is a hour late, his eyes are sunken though his hair is acceptable. You ask about his nana and he says that they're operating today and she told him to not miss work because of it.

"I know we haven't known each other for that long but if you want I can ask my mom if she can go there and make sure everything's ok post op." you suggest.

He leans down and wraps his arms around you, squeezing you hard against him.

"My angel that would be wonderful." his voice is barely a whisper, pained and sorrowful.

You call your mother up as soon as he lets go and she agrees to go see Sloan's nana and he gives her all the details and calls the hospital to let them known she'll be there.

He gives you another hug and kisses you on the cheek. You'll have to fight the urge to touch the spot where he kissed you for the rest of the day.

A few hours pass and your mom texts you with a few updates, all good. Sloan seems to be less on the edge knowing there's someone with his nana. Right before work lets out you get a picture text from your mom and you run like the wind to go show Sloan.

"Out of the operating room. Docs say she'll be on a fast tract to recovery. They want to do some blood work but aside from that everything looks promising."

The picture attached shows an elderly orc woman in a room filled with bunches of flowers. She's giving a thumbs up in the picture and has a smile on her face. Sloan sinks to the floor and starts to cry. You lean in to give him a quick hug but he wraps his arms around you and sobs into your shoulder. Miles walks in to see what all the commotion is about but you quickly shoo him away.

After several minutes he finally calms down enough to talk. "Thank you again angel."

You help him up and tell him that your mom will stay with his nana tonight and be on standby. He's confused until you tell him to follow you home for at least a nap since he's in no condition to be driving through down town on a Friday night. At first he refuses but after yawning several times before closing he finally agrees.

When you get home you pull the bed out of your couch in your living room and before you could put pillows or blankets on it he was already laying down.

"You can stay the night if you need to, I don't mind." You set a few pillows down and a large comforter.

Sloan sits up and gives you a lazy smile, "I might have to take you up on that offer." He pulls his shoes off and unbuttons his shirt but stops before he takes it off.

"Uh you don't mind. I um-"

"No you're fine, make yourself comfortable. Let me know if you need anyth-"

He slips his shirt off revealing the tight and toned muscles it's been hiding. You stifle a gasp when he stretches and undoes his hair from the braid, letting the long locks settle against his back.

"Thanks but I think I'm good for now angel," he yawns.

"You don't have to keep calling me that," you look away from him and towards the kitchen, a wine cooler sounding good right about now.

"No, I think I'll keep calling you that. You've been nothing but since you've started working with us..." he hums as he stretches out on the bed.

You grab at the hem of your shirt considering what to say next. "It's... There's a reason. I mean I didn't know anything about your nana until recently but I felt that you weren't eating breakfast so that started the second day after work... but this goes back longer than that and oh god I'm rambling..."

At this point Sloan is sitting up and you have his full and undivided attention. His golden eyes are set on you as he waits for you to continue.

"It was almost a couple years ago so you probably don't remember but I came in with a friend and you had given me a massage and I was like wow this is nice. And like I said I know you probably don't remember but I had those eye tattoos that made it look like my back was looking at you and-"

"That was you!?" he flops right out of bed, tripping then grabbing you by your shoulders.

You nod your head, trying to keep your eyes from wondering around his muscular hairy chest that is right in front of you.

"I-I didn't think you'd remember that," you laugh nervously.

Sloan looks excited, "I thought it was interesting and to be honest I wanted to take a picture of it but you know, company privacy policies and I didn't want to creep you out."

You bite back a laugh thinking that you'd probably have let him. "well it was thanks to that massage that made me want to work in the industry."

His eyes go wide for a second and he gives you a toothy smirk. "So an eye for an eye huh?" Realizing what he just said he crumples to the floor in a laughing fit. "You did not just make that joke!" You throw your hands up and stomp off to the kitchen.

"Wait! No I-pff... I'm sorry I had to," he gets up and chases after.

You grab a wine cooler for yourself and a beer for him. "I hope this is ok, it's the only thing my brother will- Hey!"

He snatches the wine cooler from your hand and pops in open on your counter. " I've always preferred these over beers. Nana's to blame."

You can't help but to laugh as you put the beer back and grab another cooler.

"To your Nana's health," you clink your bottle against his and chug the sugary sweet alcohol.

You and Sloan spend the next few hours sitting on your kitchen floor drinking coolers and snacking on whatever you have in the fridge and pantry. You talk about throwing a little celebration for his nana once they release her from the hospital and about him showing up to work on time from now on.

You don't remember when but you eventually fall asleep and wake up with all the lights turned off. You feel something heavy slung over your hip and a warmth right against your back. Your eyes pop open when you realize that it's Sloan. He's holding you in his arms and his face is resting in the crook of your neck.

You try and carefully squirm out of his grasp but he just holds onto you tighter. "Mmm my angel..." You hear him moan into your ear.

You try again and this time you're able to free your arms but you can't get him to move his out of the way.

"Sloan... hey Sloan!" you gently smack his arms several times before he finally wakes up.

"Angel? What are... Is it morning already?" He lets go enough for you to escape his hold. You instantly regret doing so because now you see that you're hardly wearing anything and he's wearing absolutely nothing.

You toss blankets and pillows at him while you cover up your eyes.

"Put some pants on dammit!" You cry out.

Sloan takes a few seconds before he finally responds with a choked laugh. "Oh my god! I am so sorry! Force of habit! I promise nothing happened!"

You know that, you had the same habit of shimmying out of your clothes when you slept so this was nothing new for you to wake up with next to nothing on... But Sloan?

"I over heat easily, big body, lots of heat, I'll start taking my clothes off and-"

"It's fine, no harm no foul. Coffee?" You quickly change the subject to something more important.

"Please and thank you. And once again I am so so sorry," he apologizes, this time more sincerely.

You busy yourself in the kitchen throwing a pot of coffee on and a couple of frozen breakfast burritos to soothe the hangover. You try really hard not to think about his naked body, so muscular, so toned, so...

*Beep*

You shake your head and grab the burritos out of the microwave nearly burning your hand in the process. The coffee finishes shortly after and Sloan stumbles in shirtless but with pants.

"Need any help?" he asks.

"No, I just finished. Here." You hand him a cup and his burrito, both of which are gone within minutes of you handing them over.

He fusses about making it up to you for letting him stay the night and eating your food and well, you having to see him buck naked. He helps you clean up and put the pull out bed away but he keeps insisting that it's not enough.

"At least let me take you out to dinner," he buttons up his shirt and starts putting his hair back.

"I've already seen you naked, you don't have to wine and dine me as an apology," you joke.

He goes quiet for a couple minutes like he's considering something, but you break the silence by saying he can give you a massage if he really wants to make it up to you.

"Now that's all the more reason to take you out to dinner," his voice sounds a bit more sultry and when he looks over his shoulder his eyes seem a bit playful.

You bite your cheek as you try not to read further into it.

He's just being nice, nothing more... nothing less...

"It's just a massage, you've seen me with far less on than what I was wearing this morning," you argue.

"Yeah, but that was more professional. This is more private. Humor me, let me buy you dinner, maybe take you to a movie, and then that massage..." he glides his fingers gently down your back, eliciting goosebumps.

"S-sounds more like a date than a thank you slash apology," you take a deep breath when he slides a finger down your spine.

He chuckles and surprises you with a kiss to the back of you neck, "Maybe it's a bit of all three."

Before you can turn around to swat at him he's backed away quite a bit. He's wearing a devious grin that does nothing to help the heat that's rising to your cheeks.

"Next Saturday? I can pick you up at six. I know a really good restaurant near my place." he gives you more details as he shuffles out the door before you can protest.

When he's gone and the house is finally quiet you let out a silent scream before calling Liz.

"Hello? Hello? Liz can you hear me?" you can hardly hear her through all the background noise.

"Yeah what's going on girly?" she yells.

"I. Have. A. Date." you emphasize every word and you hear her squeal in delight on the other end.

"Is it with who I think it is?" she asks, walking into another room so she can hear you better.

"Yes... and I am so nervous. He's taking me out to dinner next Saturday and then he's going to give me a massage and I am so nerve wrecked. Help!" you yelp.

The phone line is quiet and you think she lost reception until you hear beeping on her end. "I have a flight booked for Thursday. First class, I'm helping you get ready. No if, ands, or buts. We are going shopping!"

She hangs up right after that and you're left pacing about your house in fear and delight.

Sloan texts you throughout the rest of the weekend and says that your mom offered to keep an eye on his nana during the work week until the hospital is ready to release her. He also texts you about the upcoming date which makes you feel worse about it.

You haven't been very successful in the dating department and the last guy you dated didn't make you feel particularly good about yourself. If it wasn't for Liz stepping in and helping you kick him out of your place you'd probably still be in that miserable relationship.

But this is different, you convince yourself. Sloan is nice, he's sweet, he's funny and he's easy to talk to. Everything will be fine, right?

Monday rolls in and Sloan is early to work.

"Morning angel," he grins when you walk into the breakroom. He hands you a cup of coffee and bends over to kiss you on the cheek.

"G-good morning... How's your nana?" you quickly take a seat and set the coffee down.

He chuckles and shakes his head, "She's doing good enough to be give the doctors hell again. I walked in on her and your mother complaining about the hospital food. Your mom made me leave to go get something less gelatinous."

"I should have warned you she can be a bit bossy at times," you laugh.

"No wonder your mom and my nana get along," he rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his coffee.

For the rest of the day you and Sloan talk about his visit over the weekend when either of you aren't busy. He sneaks in a couple kisses here and there as well, one on your cheek, on the back of your neck and hand, but never to the lips. It felt a little frustrating but you weren't going to bring it up.

It's your turn to close tonight so everyone's gone at five except Sloan. He helps you finish up the laundry and tidying up the lobby and breakroom, but he's quiet and it's starting to get to you.

"Is everything alright?" you ask him.

He folds up a few more towels before he turns around and walks your way. "I was going to ask you the same thing to be honest..." he starts.

"What do you mean? I'm fine it's just-"

"Am I being too forward? I know I said this could be a date but if you just want to be friends I'll respect that, I just don't want you to be uncomfortable around me." he pleads.

"It's a bit too late for that..." you say and before Sloan can apologize you put up a hand and smile. "I already told my bff I have a date this Saturday."

Sloan's expression changes then as he pulls you up against him, his hands resting just above your ass. "Oh so you do have a date then? With who?" he purrs into your ear.

"With a really handsome orc who owes me a massage," you laugh, playing along with him.

He growls and squeezes your hips, "So does that mean you're just going to let him touch all up and down this body of yours."

"Maybe after he's wined and dined me," you tease.

"What if he can't wait that long?" Sloan asks, his breath hot and heavy.

You quickly unbutton his shirt and pepper kisses from his chest all the way up to his neck. He tries to stifle a moan but it escapes the second you bite down on his ear.

"Fuck... angel please..." he begs, his hands now cupping your ass and lifting you up.

You steady yourself on his shoulders and bend down to kiss him on the cheek as he's been doing to you. He groans in frustration and you giggle as you press your lips against his. It's a slow and deep kiss that leaves you wanting more, much more. Sloan adjusts you a couple times in his arms so he can hold you closer against him. His tusks brush against your neck as he nibbles on you, the sensation sending shivers across your body.

"Ah...Sloan wait..." you moan and he moves away from your neck. His eyes are tinted over as you looks over you and the hickey he just left.

"Sorry," he grins. "I just had to take a bite."

You laugh and he sets you down against one of the folding tables. Your legs wrap around his hips and he quickly peels off his shirt. He grinds into you and you feel how hard he is. "Fuck I want you so bad," he growls and you move against him in response.

"If you have dessert before dinner it'll just ruin your appetite," you purr in his ear and unhook your legs. He growls against your shoulder. "But I suppose an appetizer wouldn't hurt. Switch places with me."

Sloan helps you off the table and sits down on the counter next to the washer after the both of you realize that he might break the table. You undo his pants enough to let loose his massive erection. He lets out a sharp hiss when you barely squeeze the base and lick the tip of his cock. "Go easy on me angel," he sighs as he cups your cheek.

And you do, you go painfully slow and easy on him. Your lips ghosting the tip, your tongue sliding up and down his shaft at such as slow pace that he begs for more. But you keep at the snail's pace, enjoying the moans you elicit from him, the deep heavy growls when you squeeze his balls, and how he bucks his hips every time you tease the tip of his cock.

"F-fuck... angel please," he curls his fingers into your hair and tugs just enough for you to look up at him. His face is dripping in sweat and is well shaded in the dimness of the room. You smile and lick your lips as you descend back down on his cock, taking as much of it as you can. He throws his head back and he growls in such a way you swear you've heard it before. "Yes, fuck keep going," he purrs.

His cock is large, much larger than anything you've seen before. You can take just under the head but the rest you use your hands for. Pumping up and down while you suck you hear him make that familiar growl again and it's not till you squeeze him in earnest that you remember where you heard it.

Just thinking about it excites you and you start to pump his cock harder and faster. When he finally comes you're surprised at just how much there is.

"Sorry, I've been a little pent up lately," he admits as he helps wipe you off.

"I've figured," you give him a devious grin.

"Oh and how's that? Sloan asks, sliding off the countertop and looking for his shirt.

"You haven't had much time to slip off and go talk on the phone in the room lately," you try so hard not to laugh when you see hip whip around.

He looks devastated for a moment then chuckles it off. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. You've been nothing but an angel since I've met you and I couldn't stop thinking how lucky I am that I get to see you almost everyday."

Your heart skips a beat and you giggle thinking about how your tease back fired on you. "And here I thought I was the lucky one. Getting to work with the guy who got me into wanting to be a massage therapist and all."

Sloan smiles softly and pulls you in for hug, "I guess we're both lucky huh?"

"Mmhmm," you still want to argue that you're the luckiest but instead you settle by pinching his butt. Sloan jumps but laughs it off and give you a taste of your own medicine. After that the both of you finish closing down the place and attempt to part your ways for the evening several times. Sloan tries to ask you to dinner but you remind him he's got his nana to check on. "Always such an angel. Making a bad boy like me behave," he kisses your cheek and opens your car door.

"You? A bad boy?" you raise a brow at the thought.

He curls a finger under your chin and lifts your head up so you can meat his gaze, "If you can wait till Saturday night, I can show you just how bad I can be." He kisses you all the way from you neck to your lips sending a rush of heat throughout your body.

"Goodnight my angel, text me when you get home," he gives you one final kiss to the cheek before he departs, leaving you a flustered mess in the parking lot.

Pt. 2 >

Sticker

[cavendishbutterfly]

First Lines

Thank you to the lovely @pennygalleon for the tag! I’ve been so excited for this one :)

Rules: list the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have fewer than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag some people to take part.

Not forty-five minutes after settling into Budapest, the five of them are getting drunk on unreasonably cheap gin.

 Bridges (16k)

Draco closes the door gingerly with a murmured colloportus, and Harry sits up on the couch, watching.

 Playing Games (2k)

It was noon at Grimmauld place, and Harry was resolutely not looking at his mobile.

 Just A Phone Call Away (4k)

Working for the Prophet is shit. 

Windy City (2k)

Is this how we end things? Draco wondered faintly.

Olives (200)

“‘Night, you,” Draco murmured into Harry’s forehead, kissing him before rolling over and gathering the blankets toward them.

Sleep (500)

“Harry!”

Cake (300)

They decided that first week that Monday was always Draco’s day to cook dinner. 

Clean (800)

Harry was sick of Malfoy levitating things across the library at him.

Origami (500)

Draco was cursed.

Dance (500)

The literal actual Department of Love had sent them here, which was the main reason Harry was beyond embarrassed.

Bed (700)

The sun is high in the heat of summer and Draco has the best view in the garden.

Garden (300)

“Stay still!”

Pretty (400)

Draco waits in the wings.

In The Wings (2k)

When all was said and done with the war, Harry thought about a number of things, but never about the birthdays. 

Harry Potter And The Invasion Of The Slytherins (6k)

Draco's voice is close to their ear.

Haircut (2k)

“May I have this dance?”

Cinderella (800)

Two in the morning and they drink chamomile tea like a truce.

Chamomile (100)

They’re on a zoo date when they pass by the tigers.

Daring (50)

In the beginning, texting was easier than talking.

Just Talking (2k)

***And a bonus, just for fun***

The summer was long and never-ending, and then suddenly it was done.

Inertia (???) -- coming in a couple months(??) to an AO3 near you

I’ve been fascinated with first lines of stories for a long time, so I was so excited to see everything written out in order like this. It’s funny how with longer pieces and pieces with restricted word counts I workshop my first line over and over in my head, whereas when I write ficlets with little restriction the first lines bleed more freely into the rest of the story. Generally I prefer to pack in as much as I can into the first line--as a form of entertainment for myself, and since as a reader I love beginnings that pull me in quickly.

My favorite, out of all of these? Probably “Working for the Prophet is shit.” from Windy City. It was stuck in my head long before I found my bearings with the writing, and I thought it was such a funny way to start a story. It captures the particular moodiness Harry’s feeling in just a few words.

I’d love to see more of these! No-pressure tagging @corvuscrowned @jalesidor @sorrybutblog @moonstruckwytch @academicdisasterfic @fw00shy @softlystarstruck and @m0srael <3

[vinnieworld]

5 tips to boost 5 days of Productivity

We all love to procrastinate and most of us (including myself) have made sport out of this, but is this how we really should be approaching things?

The answer is NO.... apparently

So join me in my self evaluation of bringing you 5 tips how I avoided procrastination by being a bit lazy.

Being productive for a whole week when you have too much on your plate but you spend your entire weekend scrolling through social media... well me too :)

Though Mondays suck, its a brand NEW week so we can't let Mondays win and ruin out entire week right?

Tip 1 - Preparation before the week start

- Make a to do list - For the next day or the week

A short list of your most prioritised tasks e.g. starting that essay you been avoiding, even if it just picking the ttile

Make sure to not put too much pressure on these tasks

Keep it simple

DO NOT put too many things, be realistic only add things you know you can achieve

Little ramble on how this helped me :)

We all have those sleepless nights, especially when you have a 9am lecture/class the next day. Somehow you end up going to sleep at 4am still make it to your lecture on time, though the rush might be exciting this is not the way to start the week because your mind will get used to this so much and this becomes your normal routine.

Not going to lie, I am super guilty of this but I found out this not only drains my energy, it strips me away from my motivation and make me lazy all the time.

So one bazzare night I thought to myself what would I potentially want to do this coming week, so I got my phone started typing my "potential" to do list for the week, okay the list was quite long and seemed quite overwhelming, and I knew I wouldn't do all of this so though I made the list I didn't put too much pressure on this. When I checked back in the middle of the week I did most of the things on the do to list unconsiously. This was so surprising I never get things done.... what changed ?

Most of the time we put too much pressure ourself, that's why we procrastinate and they avoid the things we need to do. The minute the pressure is gone you get the urge to do your things even if you are unaware of it.

Tip 2 - Follow today's work TODAY

- Follow the lecture and make notes while you're attending the lecture

Take brief notes on what's on the slides

If the lecturer give extra info add those especially

DO NOT panic if you don't write everything on the slide, remember these are brief notes to for later revision

Speed is not important, what's important is that you have something written on the paper

when the lecture/class is finished fill in the gaps you left during it, do this right after while you still have the energy.

one page = one lecture (unless the lecture is 90 slides then its bit tricky)

Little ramble on how this helped me :)

I personally find it very hard to keep on top of things, especially with how different lecturers have different methods and speed with delivering their content. I tried many methods, recording the lectures, printing the slides, handwriting everything but it only made me bored of the things I was learning.

I can't stare at pages and pages of writing when I'm trying to revise, so best way for me to do this is if I have one page or two for the entire lecture. This helped me a lot of condense my notes, motivated me to keep writing and I felt accomplished by the end of every lecture.

Tip 3 - Keep one book for all your modules

- Invest in a chunky subject divider notebook

This is where you write the notes form the previous tip

One book to take to all your lectures, don't have to carry five or more

Write all the assignment and exams for that subject in the dividers (Kinda like a self-reminder)

Keep a general section where you write extra information that relates to the subjects (e.g. extra seminars, extra activity sessions, groups project notes, your own research for subjects, assignment preparation etc. )

Little ramble on how this helped me :)

Most of my detailed notes are digitalised, this is way easier then writing hours and hours of detailed notes by hand. But all the modules, lectures, practicals are separated so it's too much of hassle to find what I want when I want to have a quick glance at something.

Dividing the book by subject and seeing different content I am going to need regularly being on one place really is therapeutic for me, give me less stress so I don't have to spend time looking through pages of notes to find just one sentence.

Having one book for all my modules, helped me so much to keep on motivated to write notes and keep on top of it and when I revisit it, it's so pleasing to the eye.

Tip 4 - Write flashcards on the day

- Put little bit of extra into a flashcard

Once you finished a lecture, read back and pick the most key bits and write a maximum three sentences

Keep it very very brief

Think of pictograms for some words. e.g. little blog with stokes for a virus or a spark for electricity

Some info you can't fit on your page put it on the flashcard, like a diagram or a table

Little ramble on how this helped me :)

I am a sucker for flashcards, seeing them makes me so happy to revise. But making them when an exam is near is frustrating so if you make them before by the time you get your exam season you already have flashcards to revise from. How convenient!

Tip 5 - Write a sentence or research a bit everyday for your assignments

- Every time you feel like you done nothing today take a look assignment and write sentence - Take this step by step everyday and add information along the way

Pick a title first for whatever your assignment is

Do basic research on the title you chose

Do a basic plan

Improve on the basic research

Add information to the plan

and ect....

Little ramble on how this helped me :)

Doing assignments is tricky, very boring, they can be very long and stressful so we avoid even starting it until the day before it's due. Okay, we all work well under pressure but we don't really produce our best work under a day so investing little time everyday or every other helped me to produce more quality work than normal and it was less pressuring and stressful when I started the binge writing on two three days before the deadline, because all the research, preparation is done all I had to do was write and improve my work along the way.

I actually cannot recommend this enough because it saved me from a lot of breakdowns over my assignments. Just by adding something to it every now and then I basically finished my first draft by the time I actually want to start to write properly.

Bonus tip - Take the weekend off! - > If you're like me and get bored very easily with doing the work then follow these tips for the days you have school or uni, finish everything by Friday and take the whole weekend of .... TRUST ME you will be much more prepared for Monday.

Thank you so much ya'll for reading this, I do ramble a lot but it's a part of me that I embrace so I hope this was helpful for you and make sure to tell me your thoughts and feelings.

Till next time Lovelies x

[saffron-nova21]

Whipped Cream: Iwaizumi's Bonus Scene

The Next Chapter Masterlist

< Previous Chapter • You Are Here • Next Chapter >

Warnings: Reader is a little flirty, Iwa-chan busts his lip, Kuroo is conniving, Strong language

Everyone had finished their meals about five minutes prior, now just working on finishing your drinks before the checks were brought out. And in this time, Kuroo had managed to get under your skin, as he was so well adept in. At this point, it was a game to him, to see how quickly he could get you to retaliate. He never went too far, mainly just making statements that he knew you would fight him on.

Laughter bubbles from Kuroo's lips as his eyes scan over you. "In what world? You might have played volleyball in high school, but you haven't lifted anything heavier than a couch cushion, since."

His words held some truth, though not as much as he thought. Though you weren't a health nut and you were out of practice, some of your closest friends were Bokuto, and by extension Hinata. You had been pretty adaptable with positions, in high school. Your brother was the Captain, your ex-boyfriend a middle blocker, and your former best friend a setter. Practicing with each of them, throughout your life had made you pretty talented.

In high school you'd had the opportunity to go to multiple of Japan's sponsored training camps. You'd never gone, but that was only because you had too much going on at home, at the time. You'd also been looked at by multiple universities for scholarships. At the end of the day, though, you chose the same path as your best friend.

You could still spike a volleyball with the best of them, if you did say so yourself. So, with narrowed, challenging eyes, you speak up. "You really think so? I hardly go outside and I'd still win a practice run against you, Tetsu."

Kenma shrugs, briefly looking up from his phone to eye you both, "I believe it. After all, Bokuto does drag them off to help he and Hinata practice a lot."

As his eyes travel back to his phone, you look from him back towards Kuroo. "Exactly, so suck my dick."

Kuroo, though, only seemed to grin. And his grin was one you were all too familiar with: he knew something you didn't.

"Great. So then you'll really be an asset to the volleyball team, being so skilled and all?"

Iwaizumi looks towards you with raised eyebrows, "You played in high school?"

"That's the only part of that conversation you decide to comment on?" Kuroo rolls his eyes, placing his head against his fist, his elbow resting on the table.

Holding up your right hand to Kuroo, you flash him the sweetest smile you can possibly muster, before raising your middle finger to flip him off. Though as you do, his hand shoots out to catch yours, a smirk stretching over his features as he catches your hand before you can withdraw it. "You asshole." You hiss as you try to pull your hand back, mistakenly pushing your body into Iwaizumi. Kuroo, however, just holds his grip on your wrist, until you end up attempting to put all of your weight into jerking your hand back. That's when he finally decided to let go, allowing your body to jerk into Iwaizumi's.

Iwaizumi, who'd been sipping on his hot chocolate, tried to prepare for things, though he wasn't as prepared as he might've wished as the mug hit his lower lip, not only busting it, but also smearing whipped cream along his top lip and nose. With a glare directed towards you, he attempted to reach across you for the napkins, but you beat him to it, "Thanks, Kuroo, my boss hates me now."

You then turn towards Iwaizumi with a hand full of napkins, grabbing his jaw to turn his head towards you so you could help him. But holy shit, how had you not noticed that jawline beforehand? Bringing your hand up, you begin to wipe the whipped cream from his face, while Kuroo flags someone down, between his cackles, to get some ice for them.

"You certainly cause a lot of trouble, don't you?" Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, trying to draw attention away from the fact that his cheeks had a slow-growing blush dusting them. "We split them up to prevent disaster, but you seem to be the source of most of it."

You turn up your nose, "And to think that I thought you were hot -"

"If anything, you find him hotter now. You've always had a thing for douchebags." Kenma flashes you a smirk, before returning his eyes to his phone.

You let out a quiet huff, face warming in embarrassment, "Kenma, I don't wanna hear it from you. You're just jealous because I'm paying more attention to Iwa, here." Sticking your tongue out at him, you pull the napkins away from his face, placing them on your empty plate. "There you go." Bringing your hand to his cheek, you pat it with amusement flitting across your features.

Iwaizumi only rolls his eyes at you, "You remind me a little too much of a friend of mine."

Everyone looks over as a waitress comes over with a few ice cubes in a cup, Iwaizumi thanking her as he takes the cup, before plucking an ice cube from it and wrapping it in a paper towel to place against his slightly-swollen lip.

"Speaking of your friends," the way your tone changes makes both Kenma and Kuroo collectively roll their eyes, knowing exactly what - or rather, who you're going to bring up. Though, you ignore them to continue your conversation with Iwaizumi, "You know Oikawa, right? Like personally?" A frown crosses his face as he raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue. "I don't want anything. I'm not going to ask for his number, or some shit. I've got Bokuto and Hinata wrapped around my finger, if I'm looking for a volleyball player."

"Y/N, you can't just say things like that." Kuroo brings a hand up to massage his temple.

The Athletic Trainer blinks, "So, what are you asking for?"

Looking back up at him, you tilt your head, "Nothing, I just wanted to see if Kuroo was telling the truth. I can't even lie, though, I use to watch Seijoh's games, to see his service ace. It was fucking killer. Hell, he was the reason I taught myself how to do it. And I do pride myself on my jump-serves. I use to be able to do jump-floats, as well, but that's a little iffy, now, I'm not going to lie.

"Now that I think about it, Seijoh had some cute players. Especially when I was in... My second year of high-school, there was this number four. God, he was fucking amazing. I loved watching him play. Plus those biceps were to -... Kuroo, shut up, your laughter makes it so hard to concentrate." You stop to look at Kuroo, who is doubling over in laughter, while Kenma shakes his head at your misfortune.

"Y/N, do you know what team Iwaizumi used to play for?" Kenma looks at you with a ghost of a smile.

From there, you can piece things together, cringing a bit as you look back at Iwaizumi, "Would you believe me if I said that I meant... Number... Sixteen..?"

Iwaizumi lets an amused smirk grace his lips as he looks at you, "That's cute. Good to know that you actually have some taste. I nearly lost faith with your adoration for Loserkawa." He brings his mug back to his lips, fingers grasping your wrist so he can tug your hand away from where it was holding ice on his lip, proceeding to finish off what was left in his mug, obviously getting ready to leave.

You didn't respond, instead looking at his upper lip, where whipped cream rested. You were so used to the comfort you had between you and your close friends, like Kenma and Kuroo, that you didn't hesitate to just reach out and wipe the excess away, Reaching out, you place your fingers on his cheek to steady your hand, while your thumb swipes across his upper lip, movements fleeting, before you withdraw your hand. It isn't until you're wiping your thumb on the napkins that you realize what you did, face and neck warming in embarrassment. Though, you weren't the only one, as the porcupine-haired man brought a hand up to attempt to hid his flushed cheeks.

"I've got to... Uh- Get the boys some stretches for their day off. See you on Monday," he excuses himself to stand, retrieving his ticket so he'd be able to pay at the front of the restaurant.

"See you on Monday, Iwa," your cooed words make Iwaizumi flush a bit darker, mumbling something under his breath before bidding you all goodbye as he attempts to rush out, in embarrassment.

With a sheepish look directed towards Kuroo and Kenma, the two watch you in amusement. "Whoops," you rub the back of your neck with a sheepish grin crossing your lips.

Iwaizumi was friends with Oikawa for years, so while he did get use to some of the near flirty teasing from his best friend and learn how to counteract it, sometimes his is caught off guard.

You found out about Oikawa and Seijoh's team, after seeing him in a magazine. (And yes, you do see more about this, later.)

You also rooted for them to make it to Nationals so that you could plays against them.

I'm really sorry guys, the past few days have been chaos, but there will be two more parts coming your way to make up for it, tonight and tomorrow. I hope you're all doing well. You all most definitely better be taking care of yourselves. I'm rooting for you and I'm proud of you. Remember to eat and drink some water, and get some rest. You deserve it.

General Taglist:

@kookie-doughs @halesandy @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @its-the-aerieljeane @onlyonew @kac-chowsballs @saltylettuce @thathoneybee3 @daninaninani @akkeyomi @vintagexparker

The Next Chapter Taglist:

@bnha-meme-sanctuary @nachotrash @haijkk @maadaaaa @prettyinblack231 @sakusasimpbot @kellesvt @bebetiny @ash-levi @calumsfringe @z3ld4 @erinoikawa @bandaged-despair @chaseyui @atria-avior @just-that-bi-girl @magical-fandoms @one-simp-more

[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​

[yvesdot]

CAMP NANO PROGRESS TRACKER・APRIL 2021

What it says on the tin. Follow along as I organize and edit KAY! I’ll be writing on what I (and nobody else) call the “Jewish weekdays”: Sunday through Thursday. Don’t expect daily updates!

PROJECT TYPE: ORGANIZING / OUTLINING / EDITING

GOAL: 450 minutes

all daily updates under the cut.

Monday, April 5th – I worked on Thursday, but then we had that Passover Special Triple Whammy of breaks, and now I’m back. I’ve officially hauled all the non-story content out of the KAY document, and now all that’s left is STORY. 280 pages of it. 76,460 words of it. 20.5 chapters of it. Phew.

45 / 450

Tuesday, April 6th – Everything in the world to do; no time to do it in. I have now officially cleaned out the original KAY References document, so that it contains all the miscellaneous stuff and the Outline document contains all the outlines/ideas.

65 / 450

Wednesday, April 7th – Couldn’t possibly tell you what I did today. I think I researched birthday gifts. Moved one scene around in the document.

90 / 450

Thursday, April 8th – Reading through this outline is embarrassing. Was I just a bad writer when I wrote it? What was my problem? Well, it’ll be good this time.

120 / 450

Sunday, April 11th – Spent most of my time on Book Two’s outline, figuring out orders and details. Book Two is currently much more sparse than Book One, so I decided to look through my links for TVTropes episode ideas. Found a few tropes I suppose I should add to the overall KAY page… Also looked around for literary engagement rings. Not for reasons any of you should be concerned about.

155 / 450

Monday, April 12th – Nearly finished with going through the tropes list. I’m hoping to avoid writing an entire outline and then thinking, “wait, what if I added THIS in?” In the case of Book Two in particular, I’m quite short on adventures for Atlas and (mumbling). Oh, and I’m five minutes ahead of my goal! At this rate I won’t get behind this weekend; just un-ahead.

185 / 450

Tuesday, April 13th – I have finished with the tropes list and am thinking of ways to torture Constantine. If I have too many ideas for Book One, I can just turn some of them into bonus episodes, right? And I am officially over a day ahead.

215 / 450

Wednesday, April 14th – Now it’s just a matter of organizing all the ideas into an outline shape. I’ve started with Book Two, since it seems a little more manageable.

245 / 450

Thursday, April 15th – The first full week! I just realized today that I’m past halfway on my goal; at this point I could take off not just Fri/Sat but also Sunday if I wanted to. But I won’t!

275 / 450

Sunday, April 18th – Took a break from outline organizing to edit the first chapter. For secret reasons…

310 / 450

Monday, April 19th – Back to outlining, but also to doing a little bit of writing. I’ll give the first chapter another look tomorrow.

340 / 450

Tuesday, April 20th – Our first late update! True to form, however, I did complete my edit of the first chapter and updated on time on the NaNo site.

370 / 450

Wednesday, April 21st – Session meh at first, sped up when I got into my groove. There is a lot of content in this document.

410 / 450

Thursday, April 22nd – Very tired this time around; a little burned out from a variety of things I’m working on. Glad for the weekend! Set to hit my goal on Sunday.

430 / 450

Sunday, April 25th – Another late update; I hit my goal! Still, not anywhere near being finished. It’s really hitting me how much I’ll have to include in the story.

455 / 450

Monday, April 26th – My biggest roadblock is not knowing what I wrote down. Did I already write all the details out for this Halloween episode somewhere else in the document, or should I describe the whole scene right now just in case? Also there are four of these.

475 / 450

Tuesday, April 27th – Feeling much better now that I’ve gotten into my organizational system! Ctrl+f is also helping.

500 / 450

Wednesday, April 28th – Did a little less writing, a little more relaxing, with the excuse that I had a Cirque du Soleil disc which was due any second at the library.

510 / 450

Thursday, April 29th – Smoother sailing. Like playing Tetris.

530 / 450

Friday, April 30th – Last day, and I’m feeling more optimistic than ever. I achieved quite a bit, and there’s more work to do next time I come back to KAY. I’ll compile all of these updates into the one post above (so you don’t have to see this ungodly chain again!) and make a final update post in the coming days. Thank you for following along.

560 / 450

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter Nine

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Chapter Summary:

Emily and JJ sleep together.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

Content warning: detailed descriptions of sickness, abortion mention.

—

Jennifer Jareau looked like a drowned rat.

A pretty, blonde, sniffly drowned rat that Emily Prentiss had a massive crush on. 

She was soaked head to toe, her running shoes muddy and her hair slicked to her skull. She was shivering and looking absolutely miserable. Over her shoulder was her blue duffel bag full of her soccer equipment. It was a Monday, so Emily knew JJ had a practice that afternoon. 

“Pen locked me out of our room,” JJ said without greeting as she walked into Emily’s room, “And I need a towel.”

“Hello to you too, Jayje,” Emily said sarcastically. 

She stepped back to let her friend enter, shivering at the thought of having to play soccer in the pouring rain, let alone a rainy November afternoon when the temperature was verging on freezing. Ever since the brutal storm on Halloween, the weather had been dreary and wet.

 Emily could see the field from her window, it was across the street by the Arts building. While she, and the rest of their friends, made a point to go to all of JJ’s games together and cheer her on, Emily was thankful that the weather had been ok so far, she wasn’t sure how much hypothermia she could handle for one girl. 

She grabbed her bath towel and tossed it JJ’s way, and opened her closet to find a cozy sweater to offer. Well, Emily thought, she probably would take hypothermia to support JJ, she just wouldn’t be happy about it. 

JJ was simultaneously drying her hair and rifling through her bag. She was still shivering from the cold.

“I left my keys when I ran out of my room this morning,” JJ explained, “And Pen promised she’d be here when it was over.”

“I think she’s teaching Hotch how to knit at his dorm,” Emily said with a laugh, having seen her Insta story a few minutes prior of Hotch struggling with his hands tangled in yarn. 

“Just wish she would’ve left the door unlocked,” JJ muttered, “I think I have my spare keys in here somewhere.”

“Here, take this,” Emily said, handing her a grey hoodie with “Oxford” written on the chest, a souvenir from when she lived in England. 

Emily turned around so JJ could at least get out of her wet shirt and into the sweater. For a second, the devil on her shoulder told her to look into the mirror on her closet door, that if she did she’d catch a glimpse of JJ shirtless, but Emily shook her head slightly, squeezing her eyes shut. Guilt flared in her stomach at the thought.

She’s been thinking about JJ too much lately. 

Their kiss. Their magical life changing kiss. The kiss to end all kisses. That was basically all Emily’s brain could focus on these days. 

Before that, her fantasies about Jennifer Jareau were simply fantasies, but now! Now she had her memories. That kiss lingered on her lips and on her brain and in her dreams. Sometimes late at night Emily has found herself putting a thumb onto her cheek, closing her eyes and pretending it was JJ’s hands pulling her closer, just as she had done in the basement on Halloween. 

If she had to describe how she felt, the only thing that made sense was to say that Emily was absolutely smitten with JJ. 

But, and there was always a but, they hadn’t mentioned the kiss since. Not even a word of acknowledgement between the two. 

The day after, when she and Derek walked to class, he interrogated her about what the hell happened , but Emily genuinely didn’t know. What she did know was that it wasn’t Emily who instigated, she thought, it was JJ who had pulled her tight and whose tongue swept across hers. 

That week, Emily had grown more and more concerned that she had crossed a line. JJ had started acting strangely, looking away anytime Emily looked at her and telling her that she was too busy to hang out. Then, that weekend JJ had surprised her with a party. A party to celebrate Emily, and Reid and Hotch.

Emily realized that JJ wasn’t ignoring her, instead she was scheming something to make Emily happy. And what had she done? Cried in the bathroom and made a scene. Instead of JJ realizing that Emily was a broken shell of a girl and running far from her, JJ had held her tight and told her everything was going to be ok.

Emily didn’t tell her everything that day, not about all the awful things she did to fit in as a teen, about her mistakes, her abortion, about Matthew… Not yet. Emily had tucked all of that into a box that need not be opened up any time soon.

So now, Emily had the thoughts of JJ’s lips dancing around her brain, but also of her hand in hers, her arms around her and the way she promised she’d always be there.

This got in the way when Emily was trying to focus on other things like school or carrying on a conversation with the blonde. 

JJ sneezed, startling Emily out of her thoughts. She turned back around and looked at JJ, who’s hair was slightly less wet and was now wearing her hoodie and looking a little bit warmer. 

“À tes souhaits,” Emily said, saying bless you in French.

“I hope I’m not getting sick,” JJ grumbled, dumping some pens out of her backpack in search of the elusive keys. “Kennedy’s gotten half the team out with the flu.”

She sneezed again.

“Gesundheit,” Emily said, having fun with her languages. 

“She got it from her boyfriend,” JJ continued, “You remember Anderson? On the water polo team?” 

Emily nodded, taking a seat on the edge of her desk, watching JJ sitting on her bed in her clothes, imagining a completely different situation where she would do that. (Emily’s thoughts were full of comments like these, her imagination going wild at the prospect of JJ maybe liking her back.)

“I’m going to kill Garcia,” JJ said, “She told me she’d be in our room after our game.”

“Aha!” JJ said, pulling her lanyard out of a pencil case. “Got them. Thanks Em for the towel. You’re the best neighbour I could ever ask for.”

JJ handed it back, and Emily took the slightly damp towel and hung it up on the back of her closet.

“Anytime,” Emily said, “Though I think this may be an elaborate plot to steal all of my clothes.”

JJ looked down at herself.

“I think it suits me!”

Emily had to agree.

 ———

Two days later, JJ was at Emily’s door again, but looking a lot worse for wear. 

A pink fuzzy blanket was wrapped around her shoulders, she was wearing oversized sweatpants and a sports bra, and her hair was messy and tucked behind her ears. Her nose was red and her skin looked pale.

“Hey Em,” JJ rasped.

“You’re sick,” Emily pointed out, unhelpfully.

“Nice work, Sherlock,” she said, coughing into her blanketed arm. 

“What’s up?” Emily asked, leaning on the door frame.

“I’m out of cold pills and can’t sleep,” JJ said.

“It’s like nine pm?” Emily said, the statement coming out as a question. 

“I have practice at six in the morning,” JJ said, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders, sniffling a little. The girl was swaying as she stood. 

“You cannot actually be going to practice in that state,” Emily said.

“What state?” JJ barely managed to get out between sneezes.

“ Bless you ,” Emily said, knowing the girl definitely needed it. 

Emily went to her desk, rummaging through a drawer. She found the very end of a cold and flu medicine pack, the kind with day and nighttime pills and handed them to JJ. 

“Those good?” Emily asked. 

JJ nodded and thanked her, before trudging back across the hall. 

Before her door closed Emily said: “ Please take a break JJ!”

“I’m fine,” came the nasal voice of her friend, followed by the sound of her blowing her nose. 

 ———

On Wednesday, JJ showed up to their weekly French study date somehow looking even more sick. There were bags under her eyes, and a wracking cough made her entire body shutter with its force. 

JJ continued to insist that she was fine, despite the fact that she spent more time coughing than speaking French.

Emily was worried about her, but knew at this point, nothing she would say would make the very determined girl slow down. 

 ——— 

On Thursday, Emily walked into the girls’ bathroom, toothbrush in hand before bed, and found JJ curled up on the floor next to the toilet, looking pale as a sheet.

“JJ, oh my god,” Emily said, pushing open the semi ajar door and kneeling down next to her friend. 

“Mmm fine,” JJ made out, her face in her arms, not lifting her head to talk to Emily.

“This is the exact opposite of fine, JJ,” Emily said.

She had absolutely no idea how to help her. 

Emily thought back to all the times she had been sick, and it had usually been whatever staff her mother had had at the time who took care of her. Nannies, cooks, assistants would bring her food, take her temperature and put buckets next to her bed. Ambassador Prentiss wasn’t the kind of mom that Emily would see on TV worried about her child when they were sick. 

“Do you want water?” Emily asked, feeling helpless.

JJ shook her head, not raising it from the edge of the toilet.

“The floor is nice and cold,” JJ said, “I like it here.”

Emily almost laughed, and would have if she wasn’t so worried about the other girl.

“What do you need, JJ?” Emily asked.

“Nothing,” JJ said, “I can handle this.”

JJ’s hair hung limp around her face, and Emily leaned forward, taking the elastic from around her wrist and helped JJ pull her hair back. Emily couldn’t help, but she could at least keep JJ’s hair from getting puke on it.

Clearly hitting another wave of nausea, JJ moved, emptying the rest of her stomach into the toilet and then flushing. Emily rubbed her arm up and down her back, hoping that the motions would be comforting. 

While the toilet did its thing, JJ sat back, leaning against the grey stall door, her shoulder resting against Emily’s. Her head was tilted back and her eyes closed tightly against the fluorescent lights. 

“I really don’t feel good, Em,” JJ whimpered. 

“I know,” Emily said, “What do you want?”

“Water,” JJ croaked. 

“I’ll get some,” Emily said, patting JJ on the shoulder. JJ nodded, returning to her hunched over position on the toilet.

Emily basically sprinted down the hall, and spotting JJ’s slightly ajar door, she pushed it open to find Penelope sitting at her computer.

“Hello my beautiful goth friend,” Penelope said, “How may I be of service to you?”

“JJ’s currently puking her guts out,” Emily explained, slightly breathless, “She’s asking for water.”

“Oh my poor dear,” she said, pushing back from her desk and hurrying over to JJ’s night-side table to retrieve her water. “She told me she was going to shower, I didn’t think she was that bad.”

“She kept telling me she was fine,” Emily said, “Even while she puked.”

“Typical,” Penelope huffed, following Emily down the hall, “Can’t show any weakness. Both of you! I’m sick of it.”

Emily didn’t say anything, not sure if she could argue that accusation. She followed Penelope into the bathroom, hovering by the sink as Penelope took over her caregiving responsibilities. 

She gently felt JJ’s forehead, and held up her water bottle for JJ to rinse her mouth. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” Penelope said after a few minutes without any puke. “Em? Help us?

JJ stook shakily, and when Emily took her arm, JJ leaned into her, putting most of her weight on the taller girl. Penelope carried JJ’s water and shower things back for her, letting Emily take care of the dizzy JJ.

Penelope held the door open, and Emily guided JJ into bed, hovering awkwardly as JJ nestled into her bed and Penelope grabbed their trash bin and placed it next to her. 

“I’ve got it from here, Em,” Penelope said, patting her on the shoulder. 

“Feel better JJ,” she said, backing away, unable to take her eyes off the girl, who looked paler than she’d ever seen her. 

“I miss you already,” JJ rasped out, her eyes still closed, curling up on her side and pulling the blankets up over her shoulder. 

Emily smiled before leaving the room. She was worried about her but knew Penelope would take better care of JJ than Emily could ever. 

 ———

She and Hotch spent almost five days straight crammed inside a tiny study room in the arts library working on a criminal psych presentation. It was worth almost half their grade.

They had commandeered the tiny room, booking it for the entire block of time each day, and only really leaving it to eat and sleep. At first, their friends would join them, popping in to provide moral support, but as the deadline neared, and Hotch and Emily grew more frantic, their friends mostly left them alone besides for the occasional reminder to take a break.

According to Penelope who periodically texted Emily with updates, JJ spent most of the time sleeping, and having been given time off from soccer and extensions on her school work, Penelope had finally convinced her to focus on recovery. 

It was in the library when Emily began to sniffle. It was an annoying nasal drip that tickled her nose and made her feel like she constantly needed to blow her nose. 

Unfortunately, she was not the kind of girl who had tissues on her. Emily wasn’t particularly well prepared in that respect. She dug through her backpack only to find a pair of tangled headphones, chapstick and two tampons. She briefly considered sticking those in her nose and calling it a day but thought Hotch would probably pass out at the sight of that.

An hour in, Hotch got so fed up with her constant sniffling that he stole a roll of paper towel from the boys washroom and threw it at her when he returned. 

The scratchy paper made her nose sensitive and red. She learned about the redness when Hotch called her “Rudolph” to get her attention.  

As the day ticked on, Emily began to feel either too hot, or too cold. She chalked this up to the library’s dodgy heating system and the colder November weather. 

After lunch, the sneezing started. 

“You’re sick, Prentiss,” Hotch told her.

“No of course not,” Emily said. “I don’t get sick. It’s just allergies.”

“What are you allergic to?” 

“Uhh,” Emily looked around, “Dust?”

“Sure.”

Emily was not sick. She couldn’t afford to get sick. Sure, she had spent a lot of time in close proximity to JJ, who was still spending her most time with her face in a bin, but Emily didn’t need this now. 

She was certainly aware she had had the exact conversation with JJ, encouraging the other girl to take a break to recover. Emily could talk the talk but couldn’t walk the walk on self care.

When she woke up the next morning. She felt even worse. Her throat was sore, she had a headache and she couldn’t breathe through her nose. Having given JJ all of her cold medicine, she powered through, drinking an endless barrage of hot tea, hoping it would heal her. 

She had too much to do. 

Days passed with Emily pushing herself to exhaustion, working all day, making it to her extra curricular meetings and only falling asleep during a few of her lectures. 

The day of her presentation, Emily’s entire body hurt. She had barely slept the night before, as her sneezing kept her up. She managed to wear a pair of leggings and a sweater, but tied her hair back in a ponytail, too exhausted to do much else.  

“You look like shit,” Hotch told her when she showed up to their class, shaking his head. 

“Thanks, I feel like it too,” Emily quipped. “I haven’t thrown up yet though, so I count that as a victory.”

In a feat of sheer willpower, Emily made it through her presentation before collapsing into the fold out lecture hall seat, her head laid back, immediately falling asleep and sleeping through the other four group presentations. 

After class, Hotch felt her forehead with his hand and announced that she had a fever. He then frog marched her straight to the clinic, pointing out that her hands shook and that she couldn’t do anything without coughing up a storm. 

Emily was sure if it was not for his American Law seminar with mandatory attendance, he would be right next to her, ensuring she actually saw a doctor.

“The doctor will call you when it’s your turn dear,” the receptionist told her as she handed Emily’s student card back to her. 

Emily nodded and grabbed some hand sanitizer, rubbing the cold liquid over her hands. 

She sighed, which turned into a cough that tore through her lungs. She found a spot in the waiting room, under a gigantic poster about STDs. To her left was a small table covered with pamphlets about mental health resources and a big bowl of condoms. 

The door to the clinic opened again and Emily shivered. The early November breeze was starting to chill her to the bone. She lifted the hood to her black sweater over her head, hoping to conserve some more heat that way. 

Emily glanced at the new patient and was not entirely surprised to see JJ walking towards her.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Emily said as JJ walked into the waiting room.

“I hear I gave you my plague?” JJ asked, shrugging her backpack off her shoulders. 

Emily nodded and coughed. 

“Sorry,” JJ sat down next to her.

“What are you doing here?” Emily asked, “You look a lot better than you did.”

“Hotch told me you needed an escort,” JJ said, “And I was in the neighbourhood. He said something about not trusting you to actually go to the doctor’s.”

Emily laughed at that. 

“You’re my babysitter?” Emily asked. 

“I’m whatever you want me to be,” JJ said with a wink. “I think half of my team is out of commission with this. I’ve never been so sick, I’m glad I’m on the mend.”

Emily nodded, counting the days in her head and realizing that JJ had been out for over a week. 

“You look better than you did,” Emily commented.

“Thanks,” JJ said, sarcastically, “At least I’m not puking anymore.”

“I never get sick,” Emily coughed, “I just want something for the cough and I’ll be fine.”

Emily coughed into her elbow, as if reminded.

“How did your presentation go?” JJ asked. 

Emily’s heart swelled at the thought that JJ paid attention to her.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Emily said. “I feel really out of it. Hotch marched me straight here after so probably not great.” 

“Emily Prentiss?” A nurse called out.

Emily gathered up her things, shot JJ a wave and went into the exam room. 

Her doctor, a surly elderly white woman, with greying hair tied back in a low bun, barely looked at her, asking Emily a series of questions.

“What are your symptoms?” she finally asked. 

Emily explained how her head cold transformed into something a touch more debilitating, making sure to avoid downplaying her symptoms, because she knew they would take any opportunity to send her home telling her to drink water and rest. Emily did not have time to rest. 

The doctor took her vitals, listened to her lungs, grimacing at the sound of them, then took her oxygen, noting them in her chart.

Emily wasn’t a doctor but the face she made at her oxygen levels meant that they were definitely not good. 

The sudden onset of chills left her shivering on the examination table as the doctor took notes on her chart.

She checked her phone, smiling as she noticed that she had a notification from the one and only cheetobreath98.

It was a selfie, taken surreptitiously from below in the waiting room, captioned, “plague lookz!”

Emily found herself smiling. A small flame with the number 27 was next to JJ’s name. They had a streak. It was childish, but the visible marker of the fact that they had talked every day for a month, sometimes for hours at a time, sending silly photos back and forth. 

“You have a chest cold. Bronchitis. We want to nip it in the bud before it becomes pneumonia,” the doctor said, spinning in her chair to face her. “We see it a lot with students, you all work too hard.”

Emily nodded, not really agreeing with the sentiment, but understanding the feeling behind it. Emily had to work hard. 

“Take this inhaler three times daily, at least,” he said, “And any time you’re having difficulty breathing. You can take some acetaminophen for the fever.”

He explained how to use it. 

“You cannot drink, smoke or take any recreational drugs on this medication,” he warned. 

Emily, who had vowed to not smoke for the duration of her illness anyways, hoping to preserve her fragile lugs, nodded.

“Try honey for the sore throat. Lots of liquids.”

She nodded.

“Come back if you’re not better in a week,” he concluded. “Your prescription will be  there for pick up at the pharmacy.”

“Thanks doc,” Emily smiled, taking her leave, placing her mask back on for the hallway.

In the hall she pulled out her phone, opened Snapchat and took a selfie with the waiting room in the background. 

“Ya girl’s got bronchitis!!” Emily captioned it, sending it to JJ, as well as Derek and Hotch. They would enjoy her misery. 

Immediately Derek texted her.  

Derek 🕺: suuuuucks bro. need some soup?

Emily: i’ll be fine but thanks 

Emily: i feel like shit. the doctor gave me a puffer lol

Derek🕺: must be bad, I hear they usually just prescribe rest. Your lungs must suck 

Emily: typical, id assume they’d be in pristine condition 

Derek🕺: 🙄

Derek🕺: you literally smoke cigarettes 

Emily laughed at her phone and walked up to the receptionist to fill out the paperwork. The nice woman smiled at her and told her to get well soon. 

As JJ met her in the foyer, phone vibrated with another text. 

Derek🕺: you coming back to res?

Emily: ya, hotch sent jj to baby sit me

Derek🕺: wasn’t she the one who got you sick? now shes taking care of u

Derek🕺: did u make out or something??

Emily: shut up that was before she was sick

“Get any good drugs?” JJ whispered to her conspiratorially as they walked out together. 

Emily laughed louder than she expected, which manifested in wracking coughs between the two girls. 

“Actually yeah,” Emily held up the prescription. “Only because you got me sick.”

“Everyone is sick, how can you be sure it was me? Anyways I had the flu, not bronchitis.”

“You’ve been cooped up with Hotch all weekend. Maybe he got you sick.”

“I don’t think Hotch can get sick,” Emily muttered. 

They went to the pharmacy together, picking up Emily’s drugs. Emily also added some acetaminophen to her haul, cough drops and a pack of tissues, the kind with moisturizer per JJ’s suggestion. 

As Emily waited in line to cash out, swaying a little with the exertion of standing up, JJ left for a second and then returned with a box of tea. 

“I’ll make us some,” JJ said, “It’ll heal you.”

Emily felt warm, despite the chill of the store. She wasn’t sure if it was her fever or her growing love for Jennifer Jareau.

Together, they walked to their residence. Once inside, Emily wondered if JJ actually meant it when she offered the tea. 

Emily opened her door, tossing her things on her desk. She took her puffer out of the bag, read the instructions before taking a dose, trying to keep the medicine in her lungs as she breathed deep, holding back the coughing. 

The sun had started setting earlier and earlier as winter neared, and outside of Emily’s windows, the street lamps turned on. 

Emily desperately wanted it to work. She felt like a zombie, exhausted and either too hot or two cold all at once. 

She changed into a pair of pyjama pants, a black crewneck sweater with a band logo on the chest, and a pair of fuzzy socks, and pulled a blanket around her shoulders, wondering if she should just crawl into bed or if JJ’s offer still stood. 

“Em!” JJ called out as she knocked on her door, “Kettle’s boiling.”

Emily’s heart soared. The sentence felt so… domestic. She hurried across the hall, inhaler in hand (just in case), standing hesitantly in the doorway. JJ had changed into grey sweatpants and a soft green hoodie with her gold-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, looking much comfier than she had.

“Sit down!” JJ encouraged, “If you feel as gross as I do, you’ll need it.”

Emily did, relaxing on JJ’s bed, leaning into the mountain of comfortable pillows and breathing a sigh of relief in not standing any longer. A deep exhaustion had settled into bones, not helped by the long lecture that morning and the clinic visit. 

JJ walked over, handing her a mug and sitting on the bed next to her, taking a sip of her own mug. 

It was the same tea as before, sleepy time, with the warm combination of chamomile, mint, and other fruity tastes greeting her like a hug. She clutched it with two hands, enjoying how the mug radiated heat and warmed her chilly fingers. 

“Thank you,” Emily managed, her voice sounding a bit less scratchy to her ears than before.

“Any time,” JJ replied, “It’s nice to have company.”

Emily looked away, suddenly feeling shy. Should she stay? Was she welcome to hang out? Emily wasn’t sure if she wanted to stay, she didn’t want JJ to see how gross she was with her messy hair, stuffy nose and endless sneezing. 

JJ clearly looked better than she did earlier that week, Emily taking her place as token invalid in residence.

“I was going to watch tv,” JJ said, “I don’t think I could handle doing homework right now.”

“Oh I’ll go,” Emily said, taking the hint and moving to climb off the bed. JJ’s arm stuck out, grabbing her shoulder and stopping her. 

“No, Em,” JJ said, “I was wondering if you wanted to join me. ”

Oh. Emily felt her face break into a smile. She relaxed into the bed as JJ grabbed her laptop and set it between them, she pulled a fluffy sky-blue blanket, and draped it over her legs, then over Emily’s. 

There was the noise of keys in the door, Emily felt herself pull away from JJ, leaning away from her friend as if they had been caught doing something wrong.

Penelope Garcia opened the door, followed shortly after by Derek Morgan who was carrying two large take out bowls of soup. 

“I knew I’d find you here,” Derek said, handing each of them a bowl. 

“How are my two sick dears?” Penelope cooed, as she collected a textbook from her desk. 

Emily tried to speak, coughing instead, and JJ reached out to steady her bowl, knowing that she would spill if she wasn’t careful. 

She decided not to acknowledge Derek's comment because even Emily didn’t know she would be in JJ’s room, how could he? 

“Just about as bad as you would expect,” JJ said. 

Emily nodded, recovering from her fit. 

“We won’t keep you!” Penelope replied, “we have a study date! Enjoy your movie night. Don’t forget to text me if either of you need anything tonight. I’ll be back late.”

Penelope looked at them and frowned. 

“I may quarantine away from you, I do not want to catch that.”

“Get some sleep, guys” Derek said. “You look like shit.” 

“Thanks,” Emily said, thick with sarcasm. 

“Toodles!” Penelope said as they left.

The door shut, and the two girls began to sip the soup. It was chicken noodle and had cooled to the perfect temperature. 

“What do you wanna watch?” JJ asked between spoonfuls. 

Emily thought about her comfort tv and movies: The X Files. Or Star Trek: The Voyage Home (the one with the whales, exclusively, because she finds it silly and always makes her feel better). They were so nerdy. She couldn’t look JJ in the eye and reveal how much of a nerd she was. 

“I’m not sure,” she said instead, “Did you have something in mind?”

“I usually watch cooking shows,” JJ said, “To be honest. Or Gilmore Girls, Parks and Rec, or-”

JJ stopped herself. 

“Or what?” Emily prodded.

“Twilight ,” JJ admitted. 

Emily laughed.

“I haven’t seen it,” Emily commented, “I missed that phase I guess.”

“Oh you have to,” JJ said, getting excited, “It’s fantastic. And bad. It’s both at once. I was team Edward.”

Emily knew that was the vampire; she didn’t live under a rock, she just hadn’t actually seen the films. 

JJ began to babble, between coughs, about how as a kid she read each book as they came out, and even had a poster of the cast on her wall. Emily simply basked in her company and the excitement of watching something she cared about. 

Emily found herself cuddled up next to JJ, eating their soup and watching Twilight .

Between the warmth of JJ’s bed, the soothing soup and finally relaxing, Emily suddenly felt slightly better. Maybe taking a break to recover was actually a good thing. 

Emily almost laughed at the thought that it only took a case of bronchitis to get her in JJ’s bed. 

As the movie wore on, Emily’s exhaustion, and full stomach overtook her. The two girls wrapped in a blanket made it quickly warm and comforting, and as Bella discovered that Edward was a vampire, Emily felt her eyelids drooping. 

She tried to fight the feeling, but soon, Emily was fast asleep next to JJ. 

 ———

Emily woke up, hours later, in the dark with another blanket wrapped around her, JJ’s laptop nowhere in sight and no memory of anything she had just watched.

JJ was curled up into her side and was snoring quietly. 

Emily stiffened, at the reality of her current situation. She needed to relax or she would wake JJ up. Her back was to the wall, and JJ’s prone body blocked her exit. 

Her mind moved a mile a minute. JJ must’ve put away the laptop and given her another blanket, chosen not to wake Emily up. She wanted to sleep in the same bed.

What did this mean? Did JJ want to sleep next to her? Did JJ like her?

She thought hard about this, but she knew there was no way this was romantic . This must just be how close, female friendships went. Emily’s feelings for JJ were clouding her judgment. 

Emily was never invited to sleepovers, or had any close girl friends before, this is probably just what she was missing out on. 

God, she thought, maybe it’s good that nobody liked me. I would have caught feelings and made it weird. Just like I’m doing right now. 

Emily examined JJ’s face, which was only inches from her own. Gazing at each freckle, her long light brown eyelashes, her perfect eyebrows. Her pink lips were slightly parted, brealths coming out softly.

JJ shifted closer, as she, in her sleep, was probably moving toward Emily’s warmth unconsciously. 

Emily closed her eyes and basked in that moment. 

Before she knew it, JJ rolled around onto her other side, and Emily was left staring at the back of her blonde head. 

Missing the warmth, Emily tugged the blanket further around her shoulders. 

Emily looked around JJ’s darkened room, at the empty bed across the room. Penelope, true to her word, was elsewhere. For a second, Emily wondered whose bed she was sleeping in, but the strong urge to cough overtook her, distracting her from that train of thought. 

She rolled onto her back, coughing into her elbow, trying to stifle them so that she did not wake JJ. Unfortunately, the coughs kept coming, and Emily found herself struggling to breathe. She sat up, and before she knew what was happening, JJ was awake and sitting next to her with a comforting hand on her back, and Emily’s inhaler in hand.

“Hey you’re ok,” JJ whispered, running her hand up and down her back, “It’s ok baby.”

Emily tried to catch her breath, taking her medicine and trying to hold it into her lungs, before coughing again. Her entire body shook with them, and it brought forth the aching that permeated her entire entire body.

The coughs slowed, and she fell back into JJ, whose arms wrapped around her as she made soothing noises.

“You ok?” JJ asked, her own voice still sounding a bit hoarse.

Emily nodded, whimpering, and JJ handed her a water bottle. Emily thought for a second before taking it, knowing that she had already caught JJ’s sickness anyways. 

JJ’s strong arms wrapped around her, supporting her limp frame as she drank water and calmed back down, before moving away to let Emily lay back down.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” JJ said, “You were out halfway through the first movie and I knew you definitely needed the rest.”

Emily nodded, bracing for JJ to ask her to leave, but that didn’t come. 

“How are you feeling?” JJ asked. 

“Better,” Emily croaked. “My lungs still hurt.” 

“Do you still have a fever?” JJ asked, moving her hand to feel Emily’s forehead.

Emily closed her eyes at the gentle touch. 

“You’re hot,” JJ said, tutting at ther.

“Don’t you know it, babe,” Emily said, without thinking. 

Her eyes shot open, and she began to stutter, trying to backtrack what she said. JJ began to laugh.

“Miss Prentiss is cocky when she’s feverish,” JJ said, grinning at her.

Emily felt herself blush, but hoped JJ would take that as her fever and not her embarrassment. 

“It’s late, Em,” JJ said, “Go back to sleep.”

There it was. An invitation to continue sharing her bed. Emily relaxed, closing her eyes. 

This time, she didn’t quickly fall asleep, finding herself feeling tense in JJ’s bed, not wanting to do anything that would be seen as suspicious. 

Was she lying too close? Was she moving too much? Was she allowed to cuddle up to JJ? Did girls cuddle with each other?

Over Thanksgiving weekend last year, when she visited the Morgans with Derek, she and he shared his childhood bed. It was not like this, with the two of them fighting for blankets, kicking each other, and grumbling like siblings. Then, Emily didn’t feel this fluttering in her stomach or the desire to sniff the other persons hair. Well, Derek barely had any hair to sniff.

Emily forced herself to relax, to take as deep breaths as her lungs could manage and to try to fall back asleep. 

Some time passed, with Emily breathing slightly congested breaths in and out, as JJ tossed and turned a bit, moving around to get comfortable. 

Emily faded in and out of consciousness, right on the verge of sleep when movement on the bed told her that JJ had rolled again, and was now facing her. She could sense that JJ was looking at her, but didn’t open her eyes to confirm, still verging on sleep. 

She must have assumed that Emily was fast asleep, because the other girl turned to face Emily, and did something that Emily didn’t expect, nor knew exactly what to do with. 

JJ had kissed Emily’s forehead, softly, and Emily’s sleep deprived, feverish brain was not sure if it had actually happened, or if she had hallucinated. 

It took everything in Emily to not react, forcing her eyes closed and her body still, keeping her breathing steady. then rolled onto her side as if nothing had happened. 

Emily didn’t have the capacity to process the kiss, or the rush of emotions it conjured, so she decided that it was simply a figment of her imagination. 

Both girls fell asleep shortly after.

———

The second time Emily woke in JJ’s bed, the sun was up and the room was bathed in golden light. Emily felt warm and safe, and compared to the previous day, her body wasn’t aching as much. Emily opened her eyes and found that she was not only laying face to face with a sleeping JJ, but their limbs were tangled, as both of them had apparently decided to cuddle the other in their sleep.

Emily’s legs were wrapped up in JJ’s, her right leg between JJ’s, and the blonde’s arm was thrown casually around Emily’s shoulder, holding her close. 

This time, Emily didn’t panic, and relished the embrace of JJ. She knew that she wasn’t likely to get a chance to be this close to her again, without the excuse of a fever, so she wasn’t going to ruin it. 

Despite her best efforts, JJ’s eyes blinked open, as if sensing that Emily was awake. 

Emily pulled away, yawning, attempting to untangle their limbs.

“Why hello there,” JJ whispered, giggling at her. 

“Hi,” Emily whispered, smiling back at JJ.

“You look a lot better,” JJ commented, reaching out and fixing Emily’s bangs for her. 

“I feel better,” she said, “Less like I’m on the verge of death.”

“We can’t have you dying, Em,” she replied, “Who else would I cuddle with?”

Emily smiled at her.

 JJ sat up, stretching, revealing a slip of her lower back as the hem of her sweater rose above her waist. Emily did the same, sitting crossed legged in her bed, still wrapped in blankets despite the warmth of the room. JJ was lucky and her bed was near the radiator, keeping them toasty warm despite the chilled fall air. 

Emily peeked outside, watching fall leaves fly through the sky, patterning the courtyard with a blanket of leaves. JJ stood, put on her slippers, and took a drink of water, before offering it to Emily. 

Taking the water bottle, Emily sipped it awkwardly, completely unsure what to do with herself. All her experiences being in someone else’s bed had usually also involved her leaving quickly after, or at least in the morning before the other woke up. Now, Emily was watching JJ fuss with her hair in the mirror in the golden light of day.

“I’m starving,” JJ said, “What time is it?”

Emily grabbed JJ’s phone, seeing the time. It was 6:30am, long before she ever normally woke up. She must have fallen asleep earlier than she thought. 

“Cafs aren’t open yet,” Emily said, “It’s only 6:30.” 

“Do you like omelettes?” JJ asked.

———

Fifteen minutes later, Emily was seated in the tiny dorm kitchen at the end of their floor, wrapped in a blanket, with another steaming cup of tea in her hands, watching JJ flip an omelette in a pan.

Apparently JJ is one of the few people to use the kitchen—besides Emily and her cookies—to use the kitchen for more than instant noodles and pizza pockets. 

She had eggs in the fridge, and diced frozen vegetables in the freezer, and quickly whipped up a delicious breakfast for the two of them in minutes, chatting the entire time. 

“Oooh,” JJ said as she pulled out her carton of eggs, “I should get some apple cider. Someone’s got a massive jug in here and I’m dying for some.”

“I’ve never liked apple cider,” Emily said, taking a gulp of her tea. 

The hot tea—and her doctor prescribed medicine—was clearing her sinuses and Emily felt like she was breathing fully for the first time in days. 

“That’s impossible,” JJ said, matter-of-factly, as she cracked an egg into a bowl. “It’s the best thing ever.”

Emily shrugged, “I’ve only had it once and it wasn’t that good.”

“If I wasn’t a good person, I would steal this person’s cider and make you try it,” JJ said, gesturing with a spatula. 

JJ turned and busied herself with adding the veggies to the pan, sautéing them in butter and some seasoning. 

“We should go to the fair, together,” JJ blurted, “I mean. All of us.”

“I’ve also never been to a fair,” Emily said with another shrug. “I have to remind you that I’ve barely lived in the US, and when I did, I was trapped in stuffy private schools.”

JJ gave her a look that, if it was from anyone else, would look pitying. 

“It’s decided,” JJ said, plopping the omelette onto Emily’s plate. “When you feel better, we’re going to the fair.”

“It’s a date.”

[rjhpandapaws]

Strictly Professional Feelings

Ch 1: Midlife Change of Pace

There was a list of things Hank assumed he would do once his midlife crisis hit; going back to working a desk job wasn’t one of them. Cole had left for university and the empty house was starting to get to him. A bad case with the DPD a few years back had sent him into an early retirement and now that Cole was out of the house boredom was starting to set in. Not quite the best word for it, but it was the one he chose to use. It sounded better than stir crazy. He had applied to a few places, he needed something to keep him busy that wouldn’t fuck with his injuries. Arkait Medical Enterprises had been the one to respond. It was an office job in the business division, the pay was good and he would have full benefits. It wasn’t too far from the house which was an added bonus, less of his paycheck would be going into his gas tank. He hadn’t worked an office job since his college days, but he was relatively sure the biggest changes would be in the computers themselves. He was probably working for some guy his age that had gotten a lucky break. He would be surrounded by people in their thirties, maybe their forties, but he wouldn’t get his hopes up for that. The usual pecking order was probably still in place, so he would probably be the coffee runner until some unlucky intern was added to the team. He started work on Monday, so he had four days to figure out if he had office clothes. Perks of being a plain clothes detective he supposed.

Four days turned out not to be as much time as he had hoped. He went shopping and bought a few shirts that weren’t as loud as his usual choices and dark jeans. There was no amount of money that could get him into a pair of slacks. Sunday night he did what he could to calm his nerves, short of drinking of course, he didn’t want to be hungover at work tomorrow. Soberly calming his nerves amounted to relaxing with Sumo on the couch. He didn’t normally let the massive dog up on the couch, but tonight was an exception. Monday found him awake before his alarm. He knew he wouldn’t be getting a back to sleep so he rolled out of bade to start the coffee machine and then shower. The one nice thing about Cole being away at university was that he didn’t have to mind his volume all that much. There was no one else here to wake up. Hank took a quick a shower and then got dressed. He decided on glasses since he would be staring at a computer all day and tied his hair back in a loose ponytail to keep it out of his face. he scrolled through the news on his phone while he drank his coffee. He fed Sumo and then left a little earlier than he probably needed to but he wanted to miss the worst of the traffic. This was Detroit after all. The one thing you could count on was that there was going to be traffic, you either left early enough to miss it or you were going to be late. Hank was hoping for the former.

He made it to the office early enough to find a decent place to park. He got out and headed for the building, he had a guest code to use for today. He had a meeting with someone named Connor to get his ID card and such today then he’d be able to work. He has prior office experience, so it would only be a matter of learning his way around the programs they used. That shouldn’t take long, he wasn’t the best with technology, but he was a quick learner. He stepped inside and Stephanie, the receptionist from his interview day waved at him, “It’s good to see you again Hank. Mr. Arkait is in his office on the seventeenth floor. he should be ready for you, so head on up. Have a good day.” “You too Stephanie.” She waved to him as he headed for the bank of elevators. He wondered what Mr. Arkait was like. Those business types tended to be snobbish, or if they were younger, a bit odd. He hit the up button and waited. he supposed he would rather someone like Elijah Kamski, eccentric and somewhat self absorbed, but oddly pleasant. The elevator to his left was the one that opened he walked inside and hit the button for the seventeenth floor. He was on his own until the sixth floor when he was joined by a green eyed brunette who looked like he hadn’t slept a day in his life. He was in business clothes under a hoodie that had seen better days. He hit the button for the eleventh floor.

“You up to see Connor?” The man asked gruffly, “Tell him that twin brother of his is an asshole.” Hank raised an eyebrow but nodded, “If I get the chance I will.” He said with absolutely no intent to do so, “Who should I say is sending the message?” “He’ll know.” The man gruffed again before going quiet and scrolling through his phone. Hank leaned against the wall and did the same. He had no plans of giving Connor the message, he didn’t want to lose his job on the first day of it. Silence floated in the elevator until it chimed for the stranger’s floor. He left without a word and Hank was on his own for the rest of the ride. The elevator chimed for his floor and he put his phone away before he stepped out. He was in a hallway, to the right of him was a conference with glass walls, and on his right was a standard wall with a couple of unmarked doors and your usual scenery paintings. He continued down the hall, he was looking for an office and so far he hadn’t come across one yet. At the end of the hall he found what he was looking for. A closed door with Connor Arkait in plain white script on the outside. This was what he was looking for so he raised his hand and knocked firmly three times.

Hank had assumed ha knew what would be waiting for him on the other side of the door. The bright eyed, curly haired thirty something wasn’t what he had in mind. He was pretty attractive and Hank hadn’t been ready for that. He smiled pleasantly and beckoned him inside, Hank followed without giving it much thought. He was talking on the phone. “Look, Silas, I’ll try and talk to Gavin about not drinking so close to his computer; but your issue kind of lies with Richard. He’s the one that brings him all that coffee.” He sighed quietly, but it was very clear that it was a noise of frustration, “Hank is here, if it’s bothering you this much, you can come up when the meeting is done and we can try and figure something out.” Whatever his companion had said was satisfactory enough because he nodded and hung up before turning the rest of his attention toward Hank. He wasn’t ready to bear the the full wait of those deep brown eyes and did what he could to collect himself. “Sorry about that,” The brunette said as he held his hand out, “My name is Connor, it’s a pleasure to meet you Lieutenant.” “Just Hank is fine. My Lieutenant days are behind me now.” He said as he shook Connor’s hand. Connor gave him another friendly smile and gestured for him to take a seat. Once they were both seated Connor looked through the files on his desk until he came away with what he was looking for. A key card on a lanyard and a name tag that had a magnetic bar along the back of it. “Alright Hank.” He said as he handed them over. “These will get you into the building anytime. They both do the same things so just carry whichever one is easiest.”

Hank nodded as he took them from Connor. He stuck them in his jacket pocket for safe keeping, “Thanks.” Connor nodded and moved on, “You’re on the business office which is on the eleventh floor. You’re in an office rather than the bull pen, so hang a left once you leave the elevator. You’ll be the last door on the right.” Hank nodded along as Connor spoke, “They’ll have the name plate on your door by tomorrow. Silas should be down to help you with your computer in a half hour at most. Any questions?” Hank had a few. Mostly along the lines of how someone who couldn’t be any older than thirty-five at best was the spearhead of a medical company that was rivaled only by CyberLife; but he had the feeling Connor wouldn’t like that. He shook his head, “I’m good, thanks.” “Alright,” Connor said with a nod. “I’m just a call, email, or elevator ride away if you have any questions.” Hank nodded as he stood and made his way for the door, “Thanks for your time Connor.” “No problem Hank.” He got back to work as Hank left. He made his way back toward the bank of elevators again. He was one of three supervisors for the business floor. It would be a nice change of pace. He felt odd, he would be in charge of a group of people he hadn’t met. It didn’t feel like something he had earned, more like he had been slid into a place that wasn’t his. It  would pass soon enough.

The elevator to the far left of the bank opened up just when he was about to press the call button. Two near identical copies of Connor stepped out of it. He found it safe to assume that one of them was Silas, though Hank didn’t have enough confidence to venture a guess as to which one he was. He gave a polite nod as he passed and both of them returned it. He stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the eleventh floor. He figured he could get settled in and then make introductions if he remembered. Computers tended to give him trouble. He didn’t get any company on his ride down. Once he was on the right floor he made his way to his office. He didn’t have that much in the way of things to put on his desk yet. He would bring his bonsai tree tomorrow unless he forgot, and pictures of Cole and Sumo. Just some things to make it a little more comfortable. There wasn’t much for him to do until Silas came down so he opened the messages on his phone to see if he had anything from Cole. He had received several pictures from around the campus, but not much else. He sent back a picture of his office. It was maybe fifteen minutes later when there was a series of rapid knocks at his office door. He stood stiffly, he would need to make some adjustments to that chair, and opened the door. On the other side was one of the doppelgängers from the elevator. Hank stepped out of the way so he could come in. “You’re Hank right?” The Not-Connor asked as he stepped into the elevator.

“You’re Silas I’m guessing.” He responded trying his best to keep out of the way. Silas smiled, “You’re one of the few that can tell us apart?” “I’ll be honest with you, its only because I met with Connor this morning, and he wasn’t wearing glasses.” Hank admitted, “If I were to pass any of you in the hall way I don’t think I would be able to.” Silas laughed as he made his way to the desk, “I’ll take that. Now let’s get you set up. I’ll run you through the programs if you need it, but they’re pretty similar to Microsoft.” “I think I’ll be alright then.” He said as he came to stand beside Silas. “If you need anything I am down on floor six or you can email me.” He woke up the computer and then made room for Hank at the desk, “Your username is just your work email and your temporary password is the number on the back of your nametag. Once you’re logged in feel free to change your password.” Hank nodded and signed himself in. After he had changed his password Silas gave him a quick run through of the programs, it turned out they were a little more different than he had been expecting do he appreciated the help/ Which ones did what, the ones he would use the most, and how to fix common problems. He even wrote the fixes down and put the sticky note on the bottom right corner of his monitor. “That should be everything.” Silas said as he stood up and stretched. “Thanks Silas.” He said as the brunette left. He got a wave in return.

Other than the stranger in the elevator, everyone he had met so far had seemed nice enough. It was definitely a change of pace from the station, less chaotic, and a corner office was better than retirement. It was just a matter of adjusting.

[kyoka-jirou]

HELLO HI HOW ARE YOU. Soo I heard soulmate au; can we have a tamakixreader where reader has had bad soulmate experiences (parents didnt work out) and is insecure and avoids the situation? Bonus points for Tamaki being insecure and wondering if it's because he's not good enough.

The ANGST IS REAAALLLL! ; - ; this is just so cute and pure it’s not even- like what o-o

note: your dad is aged-up Hawks now. you’re welcome.

Tamaki Amajiki X Reader | Doodles

soulmate au in which whatever your draw on yourself also appears on your soulmate.

(Warnings: Parents that fight, insecurity, self doubt, extreme verbal abuse, lANGuAgE)

They were fighting again. You could hear it from downstairs.

“You can’t just come home drunk every night!” your dad shouted.

“I told you, I was just at the office late tonight! I wasn’t- I’m not drunk!” you heard your mom slur. Even though her words were steady, you could hear her tripping over her own feet.

“I can’t do this anymore, Belle! Y/N cries herself to sleep half the time because of you!”

“Y/N is just a wimpy little whore! She can’t even talk without that damn stutter!”

“She only stutters when she’s talking to you!” your dad shouted, “You’ve made her so scared of you she can’t even look you in the eye!”

You let a small tear fall down your cheek before turning the music in your headphones up. It seems like the only thing that could keep you calm was music. Whether it’d be Garth Brooks, Jared Halley, or (favorite artist), you somehow found comfort on nights like these.

‘Hey, you up?’ you scribbled on your arm.

Thirty seconds later, there was a response. 

‘Of course I am. Is it happening again?’

You sighed. He always knew what was going on.

‘Yea. Trying to drown it out though.’

‘That’s good. Where are you going for your third year of high school? I remember you said you were transferring...’

You sighed, remembering that you were starting school tomorrow. A full two weeks into the school year.

‘Yueei High. How about you?’

‘Yueei? Wow. That’s pretty cool.’

‘I guess. It wasn’t my choice though. I feel pressured into it, my dad being the freaking number two hero.’

‘Wait a second- what?’

You gasped, forgetting you’d barely mentioned anything about yourself besides the fighting. Capping your pen. You curled up on your bed, letting out a sob.

Your snow white wings curled around you, and the halo of hope that you felt in your hidden identity shattered, as you cried yourself to sleep.

----------

“Mirio I messed up.” he said as soon as his friend picked up the phone.

Around fifteen seconds later, a naked teenager barreled through his wall. Tamaki stifled a scream and he covered his eyes.

“You keep forgetting that we live in dorms Tamaki, just come on over and knock!” he smiled.

“M-Mirio, p-please put some c-clothes on.” 

“Oh, right. Sorry about that.” he said blankly, going back to his room. A few minutes later a knock sounded on his door and Tamaki got up and opened it.

Outside stood Mirio and.. Nejire.

He shook his head, of course Mirio called her over. They were practically attached at the hip ever since they found out they were soulmates. It would have made him feel like a third wheel, but he was too involved in their friendship to be let go like that.

He motioned for them to come in, and then he explained the situation.

“Well,” Nejire trailed off. “She obviously doesn’t know you’ll be here. So we could surprise her tomorrow. I’m sure she’d be happy to see you.”

Mirio nodded, “That could work! And, we could all be best friends!”

Tamaki shrunk back, “But what if she doesn’t like the attention?”

“It’ll be fine!” Nejire smiled, “She’ll feel welcomed in no time!”

----

It was Monday.

You had hesitantly gotten up to your alarm at around five-thirty, and had taken a quick hot shower. As soon as you’d gotten dressed and your hair & wings dried, you looked at the clock. It was now six-thirty.

You headed downstairs, being mindful of the shattered vase on the ground. Sliding over to the kitchen in your sock-clad feet, you opened the fridge to find a small bento and a note.

‘hey little fledgling, I made you some lunch- don’t forget that you have a meeting with principal nezu at eight. love you! - the overgrown chicken <3’

You smiled softly at your father’s antics, and you put the small bento in your saddle bag, along with a few one-subject notebooks and a pencil case.

Filling up your water bottle, you clipped it onto the side of your bag and slipped on your shoes. Patting the side pocket, you made sure your phone and wallet were in there, before heading out.

You didn’t live very far from the school, but you still wanted to get out of your house early, before the rush of kids trying to get to school came out. You didn’t like it when they stared at your wings. It made you feel uncomfortable.

Sighing, you trudged along the sidewalk, littered with old pieces of gum and trash. Quickening your pace, you managed to get to school at around seven-fifteen.

Taking a breath, you entered the gates and pulled up the schedule and map of the school that your dad had sent you earlier. Taking a few more cautious steps forward, you made your way up the steps to your locker. 

---

“Hello!” a small white mouse thing shouted, looking at you. “You must be Y/N Takami!”

You nodded your head slightly, “That’s me.”

“Great!” he smiled, taking a look at your obviously nervous form, before starting the meeting.

He ended up giving you a tour, since you were pretty early, and explained how the hero course would work.

“I understand that your father has taught you about hero-work for the past few years, correct?”

You nodded, “Yes, that’s true.”

He grinned, “I take it you’re very well acquainted with the rules of hero-work then.”

You nodded again, “Yes sir, I am. I have even already received my provisional licensing exam.”

He hummed, already expecting as much. “Well then, Takami-san. Here is your classroom. Do you need anything else before we go inside?”

You stiffened, not quite realizing that you’d already made your way to your class.

“N-No, not of the moment. But thank you.” you stammered.

“Ok then!” he smiled, opening the door, and leading you inside.

You took a shaky breath before following him in, your wings stiffened.

“Hello!” Nezu started, “A new student has transferred into your class, please introduce yourself.”

You faced the front of the class with the most false courage you could muster.

“H-Hi, I-I’m Y/N Takami, p-please take care of me!” you bowed swiftly.

“Woah! You have wings!”

“That’s so cool!”

“She’s cute, too!”

“Yess! Another girl!”

You smiled politely at the compliments as you made your way to the back of the classroom, waving Nezu goodbye.

“Well!” your teacher said, “Why don’t you all take this period to introduce yourselves!” 

The students cheered before you were met face-to-face with a guy who looked a bit like tin-tin.

“Eep!” you screamed slightly, startled.

“Mirio!” a blue haired girl yelled, “What did we talk about! Don’t scare her off!”

She sighed, before taking your hand, “Hi, I’m Nejire Hado, just call me Nejire.”

“Y-Y/N Takami, but y-you already knew that. Just call me Y/N.”

“Okey dokey, Y/N!” she smiled. “So! What do you like to do in your spare time?”

You and Nejire chatted away as the rest of the class just fell into a steady murmur. But, as you glanced around, you couldn’t help but notice the guy sitting a few rows from you, who was stressfully talking to the other guy from earlier.

Huh. Weird.

----

“Y/N! Y/N! Come eat lunch with us!” Nejire shouted from across the room. You froze before nodding slightly, feeling like a deer in headlights.

Packing up your bag, you looked at the small red flower you drew on your hand during class. It wasn’t much, but looking at it helped you calm down.

Slowly, you followed a chipper Nejire down the hall, noting the two boys following you as well.

When you all had finally found an empty table in the cafeteria, you sat down and began to eat.

“So, Y/N-” the tin-tin look-alike, who you knew as Mirio, started, “Have you found your soulmate yet?”

You, Nejire, and the shy boy you were introduced to, Tamaki, choked on your food.

“Mirio!”

“Y-you c-can’t j-just ask t-that!”

You giggled slightly at their antics, the question settling deep into your mind. What do you say?

“No.” you sighed, “I haven’t met him yet.”

The table was silent as you began to eat again, the tension thick.

Finally not being able to take it, you sighed looking up, “Is there something wrong with-”

Your breath caught in your throat.

On Tamaki’s hand, was the very flower you drew in class that day.

They seemed to notice your tense stature as they one-by-one began to follow your gaze.

“-oh.”

“Surprise?”

Your eyes widened as you realized that in fact, your soulmate was sitting right in front of you. This was it.

As your mind processed your feelings, you were reminded of last night, and how everyone at this table might know about your situation. Memories rushed through your head; the fighting, the drinking, the words, abuse, everything.

It all came back to you in a rush as panic started to seep in.

“I, u-um.” you started, trailing off, “I’ve gotta go.”

Turning quickly, you hurried out of the cafeteria, tears slipping past your eyes.

“H-hey, wait!” you heard, but it didn’t stop you. You just kept running.

Suddenly you found yourself under a water fountain, hyperventilating. 

What felt like hours later, you heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Soon enough, you were wrapped into unfamiliar, yet comforting arms.

“H-hey, hey. It’s alright. Nothing’s gonna hurt you here, ok?” you heard someone whisper into your ear.

“I’ll go grab Recovery girl.”

“Ok, I’ll go inform sensei.”

You heard other voices, but you slowly drowned them out and listened to the one who was beside you. They rubbed soft circles on your back as your breathing slowly calmed down.

“Are you alright?” They asked, and you finally opened your eyes.

It was Tamaki.

“I-I’m so sorry!” you cried, “I couldn’t stop thinking about-”

“It’s ok-” Tamaki cut in, “Y-you’ll be okay. We can sort this out.”

You let a few more tears out as your breathing slowed. You felt your eyes close as your last thought flew through your mind.

‘Maybe- this’ll be alright.’

Bonus:

“I hereby give full custody of Y/N M/N Takami to Takami Keigo.”

A loud slam was heard before you broke out into tears, hugging your soulmate and your father close, one of which was being very stiff and awkward at the sudden contact.

‘Yeah, this’ll definitely be alright.’

Hope you enjoyed!

-alice <3

5.12.20

[littlemissaddict]

Sick Day

Summary: Luke fakes an illness to stay off school to work on a report he forgot about. (Requested)

Word Count: 1.9K

A/n: To the anon that requested I’m sorry this took so long it ended up being longer than planned but I hope this is what you were looking for.

Monday mornings, Luke hated them with a passion. It wasn’t because he had to get up early, that he could deal with, it was that it was the start of a new week which meant that he had five full days of school ahead of him. That was what he hated. He hated being stuck in a place he didn’t want to be, learning things that he couldn’t care less about and it wasn’t like he couldn’t do the work either, he could, his grades were good. The only reason he hadn’t dropped out yet, other than the fact that he thinks his parents would freak out if he did, was that Julie had convinced him to stay and well he couldn’t say no to Julie. Alex and Reggie liked to joke about it, once even accused him of being whipped because he couldn’t say no, that had left a lot of embarrassment on his part but what could he do, he loved Julie and he would do anything to make her happy, even if it meant sticking it out at school for the next year or two.

“Luke, Luke” 

He groaned hearing his mom call his name, it was the same every morning, she would make sure that he was ready for school before she left for work. Her head popped round his bedroom door not long after that.

“Good you’re awake. I’m having to leave early for work today so please make sure you’re on time today. I really don’t want another call from the school telling me you’re not there” she says and he nods in response. She watches him for a second longer before say goodbye and heading out to work. Luke waits until he hears the front door close before he pulls himself out of bed and heads to the bathroom. Half an hour later Luke’s grabbing his bag and heading out the door, he’s running a little late but he’ll make it on time. He hopes.

He makes it to his locker just as the bell for first lesson rings, grabbing his books and heading to class. He slides into his seat in record time without so much as a warning from the teacher, which is a bonus. The whole morning seems to drag, he spends most of his lessons in a daze, his mind wandering to the song him and Julie were working on over the weekend. He was thankful when the bell went for lunch, packing up his books and practically sprinting out of the room where he found Reggie waiting for him by the door.

“Hey man, where were you this morning?” he asked falling into stride with Luke as they made their way to the cafeteria.

“I was running late” he said simply and Reggie nodded, it wasn’t a secret that Luke didn’t like school but he knew Luke wouldn’t go back on his promise to Julie. Once there they grabbed some food and headed over to where Alex, Julie and Flynn were sat, they where having a discussion about some report they all had due and Luke didn’t think much of it until her heard that it was due for their English class.

“What hold up since when did we have a English report due?” he asked no one in particular but he hoped one of them would have the answer, they all stared at him in disbelief.

“Please tell me you’re joking?” Flynn asks but Luke just shakes his head.

“Luke it’s due Friday, we’ve had about two months to work on this” Alex says, still not quite believing that Luke managed to forget about it.

“Well I suppose I’ll just have to work on it tonight, it shouldn’t take that long right” he grumbles and he hears Alex gasp beside him.

“Luke you can’t just throw something together and hope for the best like you usually do. It’s worth half of your grade” Alex tells him and that’s when Luke begins to panic. He knows his parents have been off his back lately about the band because he hasn’t been skipping school and because his grades are up so he really needs to do well on this report. He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he flinches when he feels a hand rest against his arm but when he looks down he see’s that it’s Julie and he relaxes a little. 

“It’s gonna be okay Luke, have you at least read the book?” she asks softly, he nods confirming that he has and she smiles “good that’s most of the work done, how about I come round tonight I can help you plan it and then you can spend the next couple of nights after school working on it” she says and Luke lets out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you Julie” he says giving her a quick hug before joining the conversation with the rest of the group.  After his last class of the day he meets Julie by her locker.

“We still good for tonight?” he asks making her jump as she hadn’t realised he was there.

“Every time, really Luke” she moans making Luke chuckle “and yes, I’ve messaged my dad to let him know that I’m going over to yours so as long as I’m back for dinner it’s all good” she smiles closing her locker and they make their way to Luke’s.

When they get to Luke’s, he call out to him mom to let her know that Julie’s there and they’re going up to his room to study, he doesn’t wait for a reply just heads up the stairs with Julie following. When they reach his room he drops his bag by his desk and then flops down on his bed making Julie laugh at how dramatic he’s being, she perches on the edge of the bed, careful not to sit on the boy as she pulls her book out of her bag. 

“So we should probably talk about what you remember of the book the you can decide what you wanna write about” Julie suggests and Luke sits up reluctantly agreeing. They talk about the book for the next hour, discussing the different parts and what they mean or what they think they imply and Luke makes sure to make notes because he’s only going to forget it all when he comes to write the report.

“Hey that would make a good lyric” Luke says interrupting Julie as she speaks, explaining one of her points about the book.

“No Luke, just write it down and move on you don’t have time for this” Julie warns, knowing that as soon as he gets distracted it’s very hard to get him back on track and she wants to make sure he’s got this. Luke grumbles but does it anyway not wanting to annoy Julie when she’s offered to help him.

Julie’s dad picks her up around 6 just before Luke’s mom calls him to let him know that dinner is ready, he eats dinner with his parents and they ask him how school is going. He makes sure not to tell them about him forgetting about the report knowing that it’ll only cause an argument, that they’ll blame it on him spending to much time focusing on the band. After dinner he goes back up to his room to make a start, he pulls out his notes feeling much better than he did at lunch but he knows he’s got a lot to do and he doesn’t think that he’ll be able to finish it in time. That is when he comes up with a plan, a plan involving him to fake sick so that he can spend the day off school to work on the report, he knows his dad will have gone to work already by the time he gets up so it’s just his mom that he needs to convince.

He wakes the next morning and he’s nervous, he really hopes this plan is going to work because there’s a lot riding on him finishing this report. Like clock work his mom pops her head round his door to check that he’s up and ready.

“Luke what’re you doing you’ve got school” She scolds when she sees that he’s still in bed.

“Mmm but I’m not feeling too good” he says, his voice small, he’s laying it on thick as he peaks at her from under the duvet, only his head visible. She makes her way towards him, sitting on the edge of the bed as she rests the back of her hand against his forehead.

“Well you do feel quite warm and your face is flushed, I do hope your not coming down with anything” she say more to herself than him “I guess you can have today off, see how you feel but I expect you back at school tomorrow if this turns out to be nothing” she sighs closing the door on the way out of his room. He waits until he hears the front door close before moving over to his desk where he switches his laptop on and sends a text to the group chat letting them know that he won’t be in school while he waits for it to load.

Pulling out his notes he places them on the desk next to him, silently cursing himself for his own bad handwriting when he can’t quite make out what he’s written. Still he makes a start, trying his hardest to stay focused. He manages to work for nearly the whole morning before he feels like he’s losing his mind, looking between his notes and the laptop he runs his hands through his hair, tugging slightly in frustration. If only he hadn’t forgotten about this stupid report then he wouldn’t be in this situation right now he sighs reminding himself to relax, stressing is not going to help anything. After a few deep breaths he gets up stretching out his body as he’s been sat hunched over the laptop all morning before he heads to the kitchen in search of food.

Hunger settled, he heads back to his room to carry on working on the report but he finds a message from Julie telling him that she will come over after school to see how he’s doing. He smiles at the text and finds it gives him enough motivation for him to keep on working.

By the time Julie gets to Luke’s house after school Luke has almost finished and he can’t be happier, he’s worked hard all day so he’s happy to have break and he can’t think of any better way to spend it than with Julie.

“So you weren’t really ill were you?” Julie questions taking a seat on Luke’s bed, watching him by his desk.

“No” he admits looking at her sheepishly “I um I was working on the report instead. I didn’t think I’d get it done just working on it after school so” he explains and Julie nods.

“Well let’s just hope your mom doesn’t find out” she says raising her eyebrows at him and he pulls a face at her words, yeah that’s definitely the last thing he wants. She doesn’t stay long after that as she wants to get home before Luke’s mom does so that she doesn’t have to explain why she’s there when he’s supposed to be ill. 

When Friday rolls around Luke surprises his friends by not only being early for school but by handing his report in, on time, as well and he can’t help keep the smug smile on his face at the looks of disbelief on their faces.

[yanderecandystore]

bullies x final girl reader? like, they were recently the only survivor of a killing and they’re being seen as a badass ( rightfully so )? bonus points if the reader seems like ur stereotypical ditzy cheerleader

Honestly, I love this??

Recently I've been getting into Dead by Daylight and Slasher movies, but because I'm just too much of an uncultured swine, I can't get enough courage to open the requests for DBD headcanons.

I wish I could put more fandoms on the masterlist, but because I only follow a couple of niche fandoms (some of those weird ones, ya know?) I'm always a little too worried about saying my headcanons for them. I'm afraid of getting out of character 😂😅

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Final Girl (yes, I know, really creative, I'm lazy okay?) - [Yandere!Bully Ocs x Survivor!Reader - Headcanon]:

Who would've guessed that someone like you would face such a tragedy so soon? A big event that would change people's perspective and morals due to the traumatic experiences, in a span of a day?

Or better question, who would've guessed that you would face everything in such a calm manner? Talk with your classmates like it was a common Monday afternoon.

Let's recap a bit, it was Friday when it happened, you were going back home and it was already getting dark and everyone was already either getting home after work, or leaving their home to go to work.

Your classes had just ended, but you still needed some work to do inside the gym, organizing some of the stuff that you and your friends used for practice.

You see, it's when the sun is starting to come down and everyone inside the city is being active and getting to one place to another, the exact moment when the city feels lively, that people feel more comfortable to just care about their business.

After all, it's a lot safer when there are a hundred strangers walking around. No one would be crazy to try to pull a move when there are so many witnesses.

But that's the catch, when the sunset ends and the moon starts coming into vision, it's the exact opposite of the calm daylight. It all depends on where you're going and how long does it take for you to get there.

Even if you live near the richest places with those beautiful villas, you still have a chance, even if it's minimum, to get killed in those silent streets. That's why everyone around that area is known to walk fast at night and be straight to the point.

But then again, you weren't going to the rich area of the city, no, you were going home, in a more moderate area.

I say moderate, because although crimes aren't really high around your house, it's not exactly a calm walk until you get home.

It would be worse if none of the students lived close to you. At least there are a couple of people to talk with, even if some of them are strangers or not really close to you.

It would be a shame if someone were to follow this group of people that aren't armed or prepared in any way, shape or form-

Oh no, wait!-

You can't like the whole event wasn't really traumatic, it's just that, your brain had blocked a couple of memories, you still have a hard time believing any of it happened.

In one second, you're in a group of 6, on the other, you're in a group of 5. "Someone must have got lost along the way", that's what the others in the group said, trying to come up with more positive interpretations while ignoring the worrying inside their heads.

" Everything is fine, we'll see Marie on school Monday surely!"

" She probably just went the other way, maybe she lives on another street and we didn't hear her say goodbye, that's all."

It was always like this, someone would ask where she could be, and someone would give them fake hopes that she was alright. But deep down you all knew she wasn't.

Something in the air wasn't right and everyone knew that. Even if y'all didn't really know each other (as some of these students were from other classes), you could still feel the same worries that Marie's classmate was feeling. He was getting worried that his classmate just disappeared out of nowhere.

He only had known her for a week, he told you explaining why he didn't know where she lived as she never told him. He decided that he would go back and see if she got lost or was needing help. And so, your group was considering if they should go after him or wait for them.

Or just continue like nothing happened.

After some minutes standing up and not seeing any sign of the two, you all decided to go home, as waiting any longer in the dark would be really dangerous.

So there was you and three strangers that were trying to break the ice as best as they could, but nothing seemed to change how terrible you were feeling inside, knowing that something could have happened.

You did make them laugh a bit though, you were fun to be around, and maybe y'all could have been friends.

But things didn't work out that way, things just got worse and worse that night. You were 6, then 5, then 4, then 1.

The killer wanted to go one by one, but he didn't think you or any of the other students would fight back. He shouldn't have attacked a group of six to be honest.

You managed to escape his grasp and turn to another direction so he couldn't follow you to your house, you were panicking, but using skills that you gained by being a cheerleader, you managed to reach a police station nearby.

Honestly, who said that cheerleaders are dumb just ate a mouthful of grass.

Of course they took some time to believe you, thinking it was a prank at first, but giving you a second glance it was obvious you were panicking and had run miles to get there.

They didn't find the killer sadly, but at least they found the bodies that were hidden in some of the alleys, a really sloppy killer, probably didn't have a plan B to cover his tracks.

The incident was all over the news, there wasn't a person who hasn't heard of what you've been through, people even want to have interviews with you, for you to tell the full story and experience, but honestly you're just too tired for that.

You wish you could rest a bit before going back to your daily life, since a lot of the things that happened that night are now a blank canvas inside your brain.

You weren't expecting people to treat you with so much respect though, it was… Pretty heartwarming!

People never have given you the benefit of the doubt, but now your classmates act like you're movie badass or something, but you can't understand why, you only did basic parkour skills to reach the station. You don't think it was a big deal at all!

( Although the cameras around those streets shown you making fucking backflips to jump a wall, but moving on-)

Even the twins that acted like mediocre bullies towards you actually show some respect for once. It's…. A really weird change and you don't know how to feel about it!?

But can you blame them? They were sitting in their couch messing around with their phones and out of nowhere the latest news passing on their TV is:

" Five students from Amaryllis Academy have been found dead at seven p.m by Police Officer Marcella Diaz, after a student named [Y/N] [L/N] had appeared at the Police Station claiming that a killer was following them all night-"

Like, can you imagine hearing that your soon to be wife had almost fucking died by some creep following them???! The audacity of some people, honestly.

But seriously, after hearing your name being mentioned in TV, they freaked out! Something terrible could have happened to you and they wouldn't know about it!

If you were dead they wouldn't forgive themselves even if they don't have anything to do with the incident. They wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing that not only did you die and that the creep is lurking around somewhere, they wouldn't be able to tell you that they love you and that they're really sorry that they were assholes, and they will burn the man that dared touch you, and-

You know, some people say that after an extreme experience like this, a person would be reborned in a way. But honestly, you feel like your normal self, it just feels like the world is a lot different now. Maybe your perspective had changed, or maybe you did get reborn.

For someone that used to see the world as a great place, you're starting to see that not everything is perfect, and that things like this happen all the time.

That thought kinda scares you.

Lately, the twins have been really friendly towards you, almost suffocatingly so. They even started to welcome you inside their family's lamborghini so they could take you home.

They don't want you to go through anything like that ever again. You even began to go into their house on the weekends.

These past few weeks have been insane, you almost forgot how to breathe when you saw on the news that the body of the killer of your classmates had been found in a parking lot, burned to death.

You didn't know how to react, it was only two weeks after the incident, and he is found dead almost turning into ashes. It's so disturbing, that if it wasn't for the reassuring hug Alexandra has given you, you would fall flat on the floor.

You….. Are absolutely lost for words.

You guess… Maybe you don't need to be worried about him anymore….

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[jamielea81]

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 1

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

A/N: This fic is simply for fun. I know nothing about the personal lives of the two actors in this series and mean no harm. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. This particular chapter is Chris light as it’s mainly a getting to know the reader. Chapters going forward will be heavy on the Chris aspect. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome. Tag list is open, please send me an ask.

“Do you have the ring?”

“Of course, I have the ring.” You let out a frustrated breath. “This is so silly.”

Joanna chuckles over the line. “Where did you manage to get a ring from anyway?”

“It’s my grandmother’s. I feel like I’m majorly disrespecting her by wearing it when I’m not even engaged. Not to mention I’ve been single for-ev-er.” You drawl out.

“Breathe babe. Just breathe.” She says softly.

You inhale deeply and exhale it slowly.

“Maybe don’t do that directly into the phone.” She laughs again.

“Joanna Elizabeth.” You growl. “Why am I doing this?” You ask catching a glimpse of your reflection in the review mirror. Running a hand through your hair, you see the diamond engagement ring on your left finger. It feels so foreign, even stranger seeing it.

“Because this is a great opportunity to advance your career. Stone Lite is a major studio, Y/N. You can’t keep working on those student films.”

“Hey! I worked on a couple of independent movies. One even showed at Sundance.” You defend.

“And that’s awesome. Really. But this could be your big in. You’ve been doing this, what, for ten years?”

She was right. Ten years and the majority of your income came from student funded films and slinging beers three nights a week.

“And by your silence, you know I am right.”

Smug bitch.

“Ahuh.” You sigh.

“Look, I know it’s not right, but if this increases your chances of getting hired, just wear the damn ring.” Joanna huffs out.

“Easy for you to say, oh, wise married one.”

Joanna previously worked for Stone Lite Studios before moving on to Sony. It was a well-known amongst the employees that if you wanted to get hired for any position that put you in direct contact with any of the actors, you needed to be married. The studio was concerned with fan girls and fan boys. As if adults couldn’t control their urges and not make unwanted advances. Not to mention, married or not, some people still have affairs. Now granted, not every person there was married, but you had a greater advantage to get the job if you were. Right or wrong.

You drew the line at saying you were actually married and settled on being engaged. Not wanting to worry about details like how you kept your last name and lying on the tax forms you’d have to fill out. Even though you’ve only worked on small projects, Hollywood was surprisingly small when it came to the industry. It would be a lot harder to explain a sudden husband versus a fiancé. With Joanna’s agreement, you took your grandmother’s engagement ring from your jewelry box and slipped it on your finger.

“I’m just saying, give it a shot and see where this goes.” She reasoned.

“You’re right. You’re right. I better go in anyway. There’s a golf cart that keeps circling around the lot. They’re probably getting suspicious as to why I’m still in my car.”

She let out a chuckle. “They’re going to give you a ride to the offices. Welcome to the big leagues baby.”

 “Ms. Y/L/N, may I call you Y/N? Barbara Floyd, the interviewer and also the production manager asked.

The two of you had already gone over your previous crew history where you held a variety of positions including editor, grip, writer, and even wardrobe. On a whim, you took a script supervisor position on an independent short and really enjoyed it. The next job you took was on full length film in the same position, that’s when you decided that’s where your passion lied. Despite the copious amount of responsibility and that often brought on your anxiety, you loved the challenge.

“Of course, Mrs. Floyd.”

Her eyes went directly to your left hand. “That’s a beautiful ring.” She says.

Here we go.

“Thank you.” You stick your hand out for added affect.

“When’s the wedding?” She asks.

“Next year. We have a lot of out of town family. We just want to make sure they have time to arrange travel.”

Look at me lie. Maybe I should have tried acting.

“I’m sure it will be lovely.” She replies with a wide smile. “I’d like to introduce you to a few people. Please come with me.”

You received a contract via e-mail later that evening. They were bringing you on for one film with the option of three additional films after production. Granted, that’s if you didn’t mess up. Joanna was right, this is the big leagues. If you could make it through the next three to four months, you’d have a long term contract with a major studio.

The next day you received the script. Winter’s Sin was the working title. Whether or not the title would stick was anyone’s guess. You had worked with a few well-known actors, but more of the B list variety. Wonderfully talented actors, but they just didn’t get the parts or the recognition they often deserved. This film had a couple of big names, Keanu Reeves and Chris Evans to be exact. Maggie Jessup was this year’s it girl and rumor had it, this movie was going to launch her into stardom. Generally, you didn’t get star struck, but this was Keanu Reeves! You first fell in love with him when you saw Speed. And again, when you watched The Lake House. Too bad you were technically “engaged”.

Pre-production was set to start next week. This week would be spent going over the script a few times and creating notes. Some wouldn’t consider it the fun part of the job, but you loved diving into a script before it was brought to life. It was also a bonus that you generally liked the script. It was sort of a weepy drama with a love story tied in. But the main plot was between two friends, Milo played by Keanu and William played by Chris. You stayed up half the night and made it almost all the way through. To say you were invested was an understatement.

You read through the script twice more over the next few days and felt ready. Next week you would meet with wardrobe and the writers. The cast would be fitted and you would take photos for your own personal files to make sure styles remain the same for the shoot. Of course, this could all change the day shooting begins which is why you needed to be on your A game and get all the drinking out of the way tonight. You’d have Sunday to recover before starting at the studio on Monday.

 Laurel Tavern wasn’t necessarily your favorite bar, but it had become the place to get a bite to eat and a few drinks. It was also the most centrally located place for you and your friends to meet. Joanna and her husband Ian picked you up on the way, knowing you wanted to drink to excess. The three of you along with Travis and Jemma were celebrating your new job tonight. The five of you often found reasons to celebrate whether it was finding a twenty dollar bill on the side of the road, not getting fired from a particular job you’ve been slacking at, for the record, that was Travis, or getting a full eight hours of sleep. Tonight, was really worth celebrating.

“What do you want girl?” Joanna asked, getting up from your usual booth. “First rounds on me. If you’re nice, I might even buy you a second.” She throws you a wink.

“Ummm. I’d like a margarita, hold the margarita.” You say in all seriousness.

“Tequila. Got it.”  She says before turning away and heading to the bar.

“Extra limes.” You shout.

She waves her hand behind her head, not bothering to spare your table a look.

Travis joins your booth, a couple of pints of beer in hand. “Here, I brought you one.” Setting a pint of golden goodness in front of you.

You lean over kissing his cheek. “I feel so special.” You coo.

Travis wormed his way into your life seven years ago. He was a senior in college at the time, tall and lanky with hair that stuck out from under his hat. He was filming his final project before graduation. The two of you had a mutual friend in common, Jemma, who was an ex-girlfriend of Travis, how they stayed friends, was beyond you. You helped with directing, a little bit of script management, and even filled in for makeup on a few days. Anything to help a friend of a friend. Travis became your pseudo little brother, well, a brother that you kissed once. You had just broken up with Chad, never date a guy name Chad. Anyway, you had just broken up with Chad and were feeling down in the dumps about yourself. He fed you some bullshit about never being there for him when he needed you. You got angry, he got angry, and then he told you that you weren’t hot enough for him. Yep, Chad was a douche. Travis invited you over, feed you pizza and a ton of beers, then you kissed. He wasn’t a bad kisser, but it felt weird. He was five years younger than you, but it wasn’t just that, he was too much like a brother. The two of you agreed that it was a mistake and never brought it up again. Not even Jemma knew.

The five of you munched on burgers and grilled cheese sandwiches. Jemma bought you a margarita, even after you told her you just wanted the tequila. Her motive was to mooch some of the beverage off of you.

“I don’t want all of the calories. I just want to try it.” She grins. Big rosy cheeks and wild blonde hair. Her British accent on full affect after already consuming a few shots herself. She had lived in the United States most of her life, but when she drank, the accent became heavier.

She grabs your drink, taking a hold of the straw and consumes half of it in one go. If you didn’t love her, you would have ditched her years ago.

Pushing Ian out of the booth, you get up on wobbly feet and make the long twenty foot journey to the bar. “I’ll get my tequila myself. Thank you very much.” You tell the table.

 It’s after midnight by the time you’re dropped off. Running a makeup remover cloth over your face and stripping down to a cami, you call it good enough and crawl into your cozy bed.

 After a pit stop at Starbucks, you make it to the studio an hour earlier than you need to be. After parking in Timbuctoo, you graciously accept the golf cart ride from security.

One of the admins directs you to a small office down a long hallway with similar offices. There’s a laptop computer, various pens and notepads on the desk. You unpack a small plant you picked up yesterday after you dragged your hungover self out of bed and to the grocery store for food. There was no window in your office which you figured; a little greenery would liven the place up, literally.

 An hour later, one of the producers, David, came by to introduce himself and walk you around the grounds and through the soundstage you’d be shooting on. Filming would take place on the soundstage for a little more than a month. Then everyone would move the whole operation to Vancouver. The movie was called Winter’s Sin after all and there wasn’t a whole lot of winter in Los Angeles.

Before stopping back in your office, David popped into the office across from yours. He knocked while walking in, apparently already comfortable with the occupant.

“Hey Monica. I want you to meet Y/N. She’s the assistant script supervisor I was telling you about.”

Assistant? What?

Monica got up from her chair to greet you. You plastered on a smile and stuck out your hand. She was around your age and seriously gorgeous. Beautiful thick brown hair with a touch of caramel highlights that hung just above her chest.  

“Hi, Y/N. I’m looking forward to working with you. Would love to hear some of your ideas.”

“Same.”

What could you say? You weren’t told that you were an assistant script supervisor, you thought you had the position. Apparently, it was a shared position.

“Y/N will be working primarily with Chris and Keanu.”

Whoa. Well, at least there’s that.

Monica scoffs. “Really?”

Your eyes automatically go to her left hand. No ring. Of course.

“Yes, really. You’ve got Maggie. I think she can really flourish under your direction. Not to mention you have Hector, Tim, Daisy and Joe.

After the awkward exchange, you traded cellphone numbers with her and made plans to meet after the first read through with the cast.

Walking across the way into the safety of your office, you figured you might as well ask.

“I wasn’t aware that I was being hired on as an assistant script supervisor.”

David ran a hand down his face. “Y/N, listen. This is your first big film; you need to walk before you can run. Alright? If this goes well, you’ll probably get hired on as the lead.”

“Okay.” You sighed out

“Alright, I’ll see you later. Meeting at three on the soundstage.”

“Got it.” You replied, plopping yourself down in the desk chair.

David peeks his head back into your office. “You’ve got some visitors.”

“Thanks.” You call out, standing back up and pulling your door open wider.

Your heart stopped. At least you were pretty sure it did. Keanu and Chris were both in front of you. Yes, you were there to film a movie, but this felt like a freaking movie. The two of them, side by side, grins on their faces. Keanu’s hand outstretched while Chris’ hands were snugly in the front pockets of his jeans.

“Y/N, pleasure to meet you. I’m Keanu.”

You accept his hand but your pretty much speechless. You may have muttered “hi” but you can’t be sure. Sensing your nervousness, he gives you a smile and releases your hand. He looks to Chris and they exchange a silent conversation. Chris steps forward offering you his hand and once again you can’t breathe.

Has he always been this attractive? Apparently, I haven’t watched enough Avengers movies.

His hair’s a bit longer than what you remember from the one or two movies you’ve seen. He’s also sporting a full beard. Definitely something he can pull off.

You mentally slap yourself and pull your hand from his after you realize you hadn’t said anything.

“Um. Sorry. Haven’t had enough caffeine today. It’s nice to meet you both. I look forward to working with you on this shoot.”

“Nice plant.” Keanu says, pointing at the fern taking up the front corner of your desk.

You giggle. Like actually let out a giggle and you’re pretty sure your cheeks are flushed.

You’re a professional. Get your shit together.

“Well, you know?” Shrugging your shoulders. “Need to green the space up a bit.’

Chris nods his head and offers a closed mouth smile.

“Well, we won’t take up all your time. Just wanted to say hello.”

“Hello.” You reply with a wave.

Why am I so awkward?!

They both chuckle and Chris waves back at you.

Tomorrow you wouldn’t be so starstruck. These are just two men that you work with. Who cares that they both seem nice and are dangerously attractive? You’re an “engaged” woman who is also a professional. You can do this.

Yeah. I can do this.

If you are crossed out, I can’t tag you.

Tag list: @southerngracela  @chrisevansforever  @chrisevansfanfic @zsuzstyina @peach-acid @tanelle83 @pinknerdpanda @allaboutthebooz @estillion14 @panicfob@patzammit @heartislubbingdubbing @collinsstanharbour @twittytelly @thefandomzoneisdangerous @linki-locks11 @jennmurawski13

[scullysexual]

Jewel Sequel: Chapter Two.

There’s been a change of plan. I was originally gonna get this out on the weekend (so it had a similar system to what Jewel had) but then I finished it and edited it today so the post day will either be late Wednesday/early Thursday and hopefully I’ll be able to stick to that schedule. Hi, hello, if you’re new to this. This can arguably be classed as a ‘Titanic au’ still cause it exists within that universe. This is a sequel to that and it is highly recommended to read A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight first, it’s not long, it’s thirteen chapters and if you’ve read my stuff before you’ll know my chapters/one shots are never long. You won’t regret reading it either. It’s been a while since I’ve been in this universe but most wanted me to continue with it so here you go. I do really hope you enjoy this as much as you did Jewel. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them :)

Tagging: @baronessblixen @suitablyaggrieved @purrykat @today-in-fic. As usual, let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters. 

Link to Chapter One.

Scully sighs in frustration as she turns the pages of the newspaper. It was the third one she had picked up so far and nothing; nobody advertising for any job, nobody looking for extra help.

She places the newspaper back on the rack, her hand hovering over the next before…

“We’re not a library. If you’re going to look through it, you better pay for it.”

Scully looks up to see an old man peering down at her from his stall.

Reluctantly, she leaves the fourth paper where it is and saunters over to the counter.

“Yes?” the man asks, warily.

“I was wondering if there had any job requests,” Scully answers, her elbows coming up to lean on the counter.

The man eyes her cautiously. “What kind of job?”

“Nanny, housekeeper, that sort of thing,” she shrugs.

With one last careful glance towards her, Scully watches with apprehension as he pulls a piece of paper off the wall and hands it to her.

“The Burkes came in a few weeks ago saying they were looking for a new housekeeper. They never came back to tell me they found someone so you can always check there.”

Scully looks at the yellowing paper. The address was not of a place she had heard of but it sounded upper class enough for them to have money so it was good enough for her.

“Thank you,” Scully says, exiting the shop. Too busy still reading the paper, she misses the sign If you read, you buy the man tapes onto the newspaper rack.

   Three knocks and she’s stepping back, praying that her appearance is presentable enough for this family to consider her.

Physical appearance had been everything with the other family; hair up, clothes tucked in, and not a single curl out of place. Scully’s curls always fell out of place, regardless.

She hears barking from the other side of the door and smiles. They have a dog.

Out the way, Bruce, she also hears before the door is opening and a boy no older than herself stands before her.

“Uh…can I help you?” the boy asks.

Smiling (just as she had been taught) Scully begins,

“Hi, uh…there was a housekeeper request made and I was wondering if it was still open?” She extends the note towards the boy and he looks down at it, looking as if he’s unsure as to what it is or what to do with it for a second before he’s taking it from her.

“Uh, yeah…just, hold on a minute.”

Scully nods, still smiling, as the door is placed on the latch and waits for him to return.

To say she was disappointed to being back in this position again perhaps wasn’t right. She knew even four months ago that there would have to be an adjustment period, and while her future turned out differently than she imagined before stepping onto the ship, career-wise, it wasn’t entirely off target.

The four months she had been here was really about allowing Mulder to settle. She knows how much of a drastic change this is for him, how important it was for her to be there when he came home every evening- she was his only familiarity anymore, after all- but Scully couldn’t shake away the feeling that maybe she had pushed her dreams too far back, all just to accommodate Mulder.

Had she still been here with Charlie, they would have found the swing of things fairly early on; him at some construction site, her in some upper-class house. And she wouldn’t have to try and get the weekend off.

Charlie…

It still stung to think of her brother.

The door reopens to an older woman, late 30s Scully assumes, holding the note Scully gave to the boy.

The woman looks her up and down. “You’re the help?” she asks, distastefully.

“Aye, ma’am,” Scully nods.

The woman sighs defeatedly. “I suppose you’re better than nothing.” She opens the door the little wider to allow Scully entrance. “Well, come on, then.”

Scully enters and immediately the dog bounding towards her, curious as to who this intruder is. She laughs as the gold Labrador slobbers all over her skirt, not minding at all as she pets the top of his head.

“Edward!” Mrs Burke shouts towards the rooms leading off. The boy who answered the door exits out of the nearest doorway. “Take the dog somewhere else.”

Edward moves towards the dog, gripping it by the collar and tugging it away from Scully. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly.

“You won’t need to worry about the dog,” Mrs Burke says, shutting the front door. “That’s Edward’s job. What did you say your name was?”

“Ingrid Brevik,” Scully answered.

The woman smiles slightly, a smile that tells Scully the woman knows she’s lying.

“You’re real name.”

Scully hesitates for a moment. They had been using their fake names since they got here, every new person they met they introduced themselves as Leif and Ingrid and nothing was said on the matter. Even when they had got to Ellis Island, they had been allowed to pass through immigration fairly easily.

“If will remain within this household if you’re scared,” Mrs Burke reassures.

And maybe Scully was scared. What if they knew the Mulders had been her first thought, was always her thought when meeting anybody. Scully knew first-hand what vultures these people were.

But what if not all of them were? Mulder certainly wasn’t.

“Dana Scully,” Scully finally answers.

Mrs Burke nods, “That sounds more like it. Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Scully gets a tour of the house. It’s easy enough to navigate, give her two days and she’ll be able to walk around with her eyes closed.

She’s finally led to where she’ll be staying. A room in the basement. Minimum furniture; a single bed, a set of drawers yet the added bonus is the small bathroom attached. The last house hadn’t had a bathroom and Scully had been forced to use the one they had outside.

“You’ll work from six to nine every day. Dinner is usually served at seven. Any meals you have are to be had after we’ve eaten. Yes?”

Scully nods.

“Any questions?”

Scully fumbles with her fingers, unsure of how to proceed.

“Um…I have one request, actually.” The woman looks at her, waiting. “Can I have Saturday to Sunday off?”

  An agreement was made. Monday to Friday she would work, for half the wage.

Scully hadn’t tried to bargain with Mrs Burke. She hadn’t been too impressed with Scully’s request but had granted it anyway once Scully explained Mulder. She may not have been truthfully honest, Mulder was far from inept and she had no doubt he could take care of himself if it really came down to it but needs must.

Now she had the task of actually telling Mulder, something she had been dreading since this idea first came to mind. Five days a week Mulder would have to learn to live without her which meant he had a few new skills to learn.

Scully braces herself at the sound of the door unlocking. It opens to reveal Mulder, worn out and dropping his sketchbook onto the floor. He looks over to her, smiling tiredly, taking off his shoes.

“Long day?” she asks.

Mulder smiles in agreement, placing the money jar on the table. Scully’s eyes fall to it and widen when she realises what sits inside.

A dark green dollar bill.

She brings the jar towards her, twisting off the cap.

Mulder is full smiles now, pulling out the opposite chair and sitting down.

“Took a bit of convincing, but I managed to con them into giving that over.”

She looks up at him disapprovingly. “Mulder! We agreed you weren’t gonna use any deceitful tactics.”

“Look, I only did it the once, and look what it got us,” he points to the bill she holds in her hand. “I promise I won’t do it often.”

Scully sighs, placing the note back into the jar and pushing it out of the way. “You won’t have to. I got a job.”

Mulder stares at her in surprise. “Really? Where?”

She slides the note she got from the newspaper stall over to him.

“It’s just a housekeeper. I work Monday to Friday but I get to be home for the weekend.” She smiles, hoping it’ll lift his spirits.

Mulder stares glumly at the note. “You won’t be here for five days.”

She reaches her hand out, grasping his. “But I get to be home every weekend, that’s something right?”

Mulder shrugs, his fingers playing with hers. “When do you start?”

Scully looks down at their entwined hands. “Monday.”

“Monday?” Mulder exclaims. “But what’s in two days.”

“Well, it’s better than starting tomorrow, isn’t it?”

Mulder looks glumly down at their hands. “I guess,” he mumbles. “Scully, how am I meant to survive five days without you here?”

Scully smiles, “I’ll teach you how to cook. That should keep you alive.” Another thought passes through her mind then, one she hadn’t thought about before this moment.

“Mulder, will you be okay at night? You know, with the nightmares and that?”

She watches him think for a moment, a flash of panic crossing his face. Often their nightmares consisted of something happening to the other, or just a memory of what happened that night, and when they would wake up, the other’s presence would soothe them, allow them to go back to sleep knowing the other was safe and alive next to them. With them both being separated, there was a worry that that safety, that comfort wouldn’t be there anymore.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, trying to sound like he was convincing them both. “What about you? I know you have them, too.”

Scully tried to be less vocal about hers. Sometimes, Mulder’s dreams would have her waking up- usually because Mulder’s woke her up- sometimes it was the only way he could really go back to sleep if he knew she was really alive. Scully would just cuddle closer to Mulder, listen to his breathing and fall asleep that way.

She grasps his hand tighter. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

It was going to be strange, being away from each other for so long. They had been in each other’s company since the day they met. They have never gone a day since that day without seeing each other at some point during the same day. Scully just prayed Mulder would be able to manage without her.

[violet-knox]

Land of the Unexpected

Year 6 - Chapter 50

Summary: Taking a lunch break, you and Severus take a walk to a nearby park.

Word count: 3046

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1 

~

Severus grabbed two more copies of The Shining, stuffed them into the new release section before grabbing the box carrying extra copies and made his way to the backroom. His eyes immediately found your figure hunching over several boxes, organizing the pile of books behind you. His lips twitched into a smile as he watched your focus and dedication narrow on the task at hand. These last few weeks had been heaven like for Severus. Spending all of Sundays through Thursdays with you. Sure it wasn’t anything compared to the time you’d spend in Hogwarts but considering the fact that school was out and you wouldn’t be able to go back anytime soon, the time you spent in this bookstore was more than a blessing. 

The argument he had with his parents the day he came home with the news had been one of the worst he’d seen to date. But if there was any fight worth baring it would be the one giving him the chance to work with you. His wit stayed in focus as he watched the spiral of anger his father emitted blast through the living room when he stated the fact that he’d be working at a bookstore rather than take part in the annual tradition of spending most of his time filing box after box of cigarette packs.

His hand went straight to his back pocket where he’d stashed his wand when the man playing his father abruptly stood from his armchair and rushed towards him. His mother’s eyes widened in shock when she saw Severus reaching for his wand, placing herself between them before her only son did something so foolish as to strike down a muggle. 

It was all such a blur now. His mother commanding he go to his room. He’d never seen her so protective before that night. He’d in fact never seen her act so cautious of him before and never had he imagined listening to her actually defend him once he left. It was hard to hear what she was saying at first, her voice strangely calm, or perhaps she was too frightened of the situation to raise her voice. But as the minutes went by, he could hear her stern comments vibrating through the walls. She’d told him off. Standing up for her son, something Severus didn’t think her capable of doing, but she’d done it. And before he knew it, the house had finally settled, his father resuming his act of pretending like Severus didn’t exist, even more so than usual and he’d happily gone to work the next day, loaded with caffeine in the hopes that you wouldn’t catch his lack of sleep and asked what happened the night before. 

But of course, you had. And the truth came stumbling from his mouth as he shared every detail of the horrific event. It was worth it, he’d told you. And he meant it.

“Where should I place these?” he asked as he approached you, gesturing to the box in his hand. You stood up and peered inside before pointing to a corner near the door. 

His parents, his home at Spinner’s End was never a topic he enjoyed discussing, especially after listening to his peers in Slytherin talk about their fortune, their glamorous life outside of Hogwarts. He’d shut down, changed his willingness to talk about his muggle life after that, even around Lily. But it was different with you. His relationship with you was nothing he’d ever experienced before. He felt comfortable with you, like he could tell you anything and be spared from the judgment he knew he would get from others. 

He loved how you’d run your fingers through his hair as he told you about his father's rage and his mother’s neglect. He couldn’t get enough of the small touches you gave when he mentioned how his mother finally stepped forward only to stop him from pulling out his wand. The gentle smile you gave him at the end of his story was something he’d always cherish. 

“Ready for lunch?” he asked as he watched you remove the cap from the marker you held and write something on the side of the box you’d just closed.

“Just give me a few more minutes,” you replied, “I want to finish organizing this pile before we take a break.” You clicked the marker cap back in place before you began going through the last stack of books, placing the appropriate titles in a new box while the others were stashed away in the corner to be organized later. 

Severus stood there admiring you work so hard, putting so much effort into the task you’d been handed by the owner. He had to admit, when Mr.Davis first approached you about reorganizing the entire backroom all on your own, he thought it a bit absurd. The room held way too many books for one person to go through on their own, but lo and behold, you’d managed to get through a little more than a quarter of the room over the last two weeks, supposedly without the use of magic (or so you’d told him).  

“Can I help?” he said, walking towards you, eyeing the three boxes you’d sealed shut. 

You took a moment before you looked up and registered his offer. Glancing over to the boxes you had stacked to your left, you nodded your head. “Can you put those boxes away on the third shelf to the right?” you asked, accepting his helping hand. Severus leaned down and picked up all three boxes at once, missing how easy magic made such tasks. 

It was a shame really you two hadn’t gone to the wizarding world to find jobs, help you stay connected with the community over your summer break. Then again, the convenient location of this bookstore did help strengthen your relationship. 

“In alphabetical order please Severus!” you shouted just as he arrived at the shelves you’d mentioned. He glanced back, your face only just visible through the thin strip of air between the shelf and the books it held. 

Severus placed the boxes on the floor, his smile returning as his fingers lingered over your writing, forever engraved in the box on which it lay. He quickly picked up the first box and slide it in place before searching the location of the second, then the third. 

Just as he walked back over, he saw you putting away the last box before turning to face him. Perhaps you had managed to organize the books without the use of magic. “I believe it’s your turn today, right?”

He stepped forward and pulled you in for a quick kiss, humming as he parted. Severus took your hand and you both made your way to the very back of the room where you’d kept your belongings. Severus leaned down and removed a brown paper bag from his backpack while you removed your nametag. Severus handed you the bag in his hand and did the same before you both made your way out of the backroom and made your way towards the exit.  

Walking up the street, watched for cars as you both made your way across, you headed to the nearby park located behind the bookstore. Others probably would have been sick of spending every single lunch, five days a week in the same spot, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. It was rather the company you kept than the location itself that mattered. The change of scenery and fresh air was a mere bonus. 

You tightened your grip on the little brown bag you held, wondering what Severus brought you today. The system you’d put in place, though convenient, had you feeling a little guilty. Yes, it was only fair to take turns bringing lunch for one another; you on Monday and Wednesday, Severus Sunday and Tuesday while Thursday interchanged between the both of you each week. But he had to get up early every morning when it was his turn to make lunch, careful not to wake his parents. He’d naturally reassured you, telling you he’d been using magic to make lunch and thus cutting the prep time in half. But you still felt so uneasy, as if he was risking breaking house rules all so you could have a bite to eat when lunch came round. 

As you took a seat at your usual lunch spot, placing the bag between you both, Severus took out a sandwich and handed it to you. You smiled in gratitude, unwrapped it and took a bite. 

“Did your mom make these?” you asked before taking another bite. It was a simple ham and cheese sandwich, but you could tell it wasn’t him who’d prepared it because Severus would normally cut off the crust, something you found rather charming. 

“Why? Do you hate my cooking that much?” he teased. 

“No!” you said, lightly shoving him, a small chuckle vibrating against your throat. “I just know your style.”

Severus smiled as he took a bite of his own sandwich. “Yeah, she made them,” he averted his gaze as he shifted a little. “Actually, there’s something I should tell you.”

You looked up from your lunch, wide eyed as his voice dropped. Something was wrong, or rather, something had changed, and you couldn’t tell whether the news he had to share was good or bad.

“What is it?” you asked, giving him your full undivided attention. 

“My dad left us.”

You froze in shock as your hands slowly lowered, weakly resting on your lap. Your eyes desperately scanned his face, instinctively trying to find the sorrow you knew any child would feel at the sight of a parent’s abandonment, but of course, you found nothing of the sort. “Sev-” you whispered. 

“No, it’s a good thing.” He shook his head, noticing the pity in your eyes. “He was a deadbeat anyways. All he ever did was yell at everything. The house is quiet now and my mum is finally getting a full night's rest.”

“That’s good to hear,” you said, giving him a sheepish smile as you gently placed your hand over his. He looked down and tightened his grasp around your fingers, leaning into the comfort you never failed to provide.  

You hadn’t heard anything too cheery about Tobias Snape. The little you knew about him said he wasn’t much of a father to Severus and you’d always resented him ever since the first day of fifth year when Severus had shown up bruised. The happiest memory you’d been told of was the dinner spent in absolute silence the first day he’d come home after working at Mr.Davis’ Bookshop which really said something. Though none of the things you were told would have you believe him to be a deadbeat, you could tell Severus felt much happier with him gone and you were glad his mother was still around and seemingly paying more attention to him. 

“How are you feeling about this?” you whispered as you moved your hand up, resting it under his chin as your thumb gently swept over his cheek. Severus met your gaze and smirked at your compassion towards him. Was it possible to fall in love with someone all over again without actually ever falling out of love? 

“I’m fine (Y/N). I’m happy.” He reassured you and you finally felt the tension in your shoulders lift as you resumed devouring your lunch. 

He sure seemed much happier today and this would explain his mother’s sudden interest in his life, making lunches, asking about his day, investing in his personal life when Severus had told you she’d never had such inclinations before. You began to wonder if something had happened while you were in school, whether his mother had some sort of epiphany causing her to change her attitude, ultimately resulting in the end of her marriage. 

“Mum wants to return to her potions career, now that my father’s gone,” Severus told you as you walked beside him, watching as he threw the crumpled up brown bag in the bin. 

“Oh?”

“She had to stop when she married my dad,” he continued as you slowly walked around the park for some fresh air before heading back to work. “But she has been out of practice for a while so I don’t know how easy it will be for her to get back into the field.”

“Well, if her skills are anything like yours, I’m sure she’ll very easily find a job.”

Severus still got so flustered whenever you complimented him, feeling he was undeserving of such praise. He held back a small smile, taking your hand as you walked side by side. He’d grown rather used to showing small tokens of affection in public. There was no harm in hand-holding, even if some members of the older generation shot them glances of disapproval. He was in love, and proud to have you by his side.  

“I hope she does,” he said, “Then maybe we can find a home in the wizarding world.” His tone emulated disgust, as if the town he lived in, the town you both shared was a burden he’d endured, happy to rid of it at his earliest convenience. 

You frowned, keeping your gaze to the ground as you continued onward. “You don’t like it here?” you mumbled. 

Severus snapped his attention towards you, your shriveled voice burning his ears. He’d upset you at the mention of moving away. Did you prefer living amongst muggles? Would that cause a problem between you after graduation? Would he have to pick between you and the wizarding world?

“It’s-It’s just that I prefer the wizarding world. Besides, my mother gave up a lot when she decided to live here. It would be nice if she regained some of what she lost”

“I know,” you replied, your eyes meeting his as you continued, “Still I’m glad she did. Otherwise I may have never met you.”

Severus chuckled as you made your way back to the crosswalk, heading back to the shop. 

“Speaking of…” his gaze returned to the ground as he spoke,  “She asked to have you over for dinner tonight.”

“She what?” your head shot in his direction and you watched as he uncomfortably shifted in his spot. Sure you’d been dating for a few months now and he’d spoken about his parents each time you’d asked, but you never imagined having to meet them so soon. 

“You don’t have to come” he quickly added as if he’d almost forgotten to take on an escape route to the trap he’d set. But watching him slouch a little lower than usual, you got the distinct impression he’d been forced to extend the invitation he offered. 

That house was nothing to be proud of. Nothing to flaunt, nothing to show any respectable guest. He’d thought his ears had betrayed him this morning when he heard the words stumble from his mother’s lips as she handed him the lunch she’d unexpectedly prepared. It was odd enough seeing her take out her wand to cook but to actually ask him to bring you over for dinner. It was a request he still could not wrap his brain around. What did she care who he dated? 

Better yet, how could she think he’d want to bring you to a house with nothing but bad energy surrounding it. Spinner’s End wasn’t a place locals like you would want to wander down, let alone enter a house located in the area. He didn’t want the impression of a poor neglected and abused boy etched into your brain when you saw him. He wanted to keep your view of him subjected to what you saw of him at Hogwarts; the intelligent, dedicated and loving boyfriend you’d come to accept into your life. 

“No, of course I’ll come. I’d be happy to.” Severus watched as your voice dropped, your hands brushing the worn jeans you wore, your eyes speaking words of worry and discontent. “It’s just.. Unexpected is all,” you said as you turned the corner after crossing the street, the entrance to the shop now in your line of sight. “Do you think we could pass by my place first before we head over to yours?” 

“You don’t have to worry about impressing her, you look fine,” he said, deducing your concern came from the impressionable outfit you seemed to prefer wearing when working at the bookshop.

“Can I change anyways?” you pleaded, hoping that a change of clothing would help ease the nerves prickling your skin. 

“Of course,” he shot you a reassuring smile as he held the door open for you. 

Greeting Mr.Davis, you both made your way back to the backroom to retrieve your nametags before heading back to work. Severus’ home situation went straight over your head as your thoughts filled with what you could possibly say to his mother when you met. Should you thank her for today’s lunch or was that too obviously nice? What would she think if you showed up in a knee length dress? You’d neglected to wash your hair today, would she be disappointed in your lack of grooming? 

Your thoughts swam as you tried to resume your work. But bringing your mind back into focus was surely one task you wouldn’t be able to accomplish. No spell to help you deal with your rising anxiety. You couldn’t even talk to Severus about how you felt. Watching his disappointment at the mention of you meeting his mother was hard enough, you couldn’t bear to see the reaction you’d get if you told him you were dreadfully nervous to meet his mother.  

With a deep breath you turned your attention back to the corner you’d placed yourself in, organizing books as Severus left the room. Peering over the titles of each book, you discreetly pulled out your wand and watched the books you wished to pull fly out of their respective locations and gently land at your feet before you took a seat and began rummaging through them. At least this bloody task would help provide some distraction as you did all you could to push the thought of tonight's upcoming events away and went back to work.

~

Next Chapter

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