#i am in Too Tired To Talk mood and simultaneously also Have Many Thoughts Want To Yell mood
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Hello hi hello we vibing today or nah
#personal#nadine rambles#i am Still Tired#what's new lmao#i made tags for the cult family bc i'm fickle an can't make up my mind on anything#been working on blog stuff for an hour or so#on my writing blog bc is low energy wip page shenanigans#can't be hecked to work on my f/o pages here that require Brain Power#or the oc page on my main#will i ever finish things i start that aren't art who knows#taps my lil hands on my desk#i am. in a wierd headspace today idk what i am Feeling#might try to answer that gush pass ask today to distract my brain with happy f/o thoughts idk#can i send that ask to other people before i answer it bc idk how long it'll take me to get to it and seein other ppl gush might cheer me up#idk!!#i am in Too Tired To Talk mood and simultaneously also Have Many Thoughts Want To Yell mood#u ever in the middle of soing something an wonder. why am i doing this idek if it is bringing me serotonin#thas me#i am floating in the brain void
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if you’re going crazy, just grab me and take me
summary: after the worst year with this fucking family, Ransom proposes on ❄️ chrstmas eve ❄️ it obviously doesn’t go over as well as his emotionally-stunted ass thought it would.
warnings: every god damn word in this thing is a problem. rough smut. choking, anal, hair-pulling, biting, this shit makes the first chapter seem light, i’ll just say that. a lot of fighting. verbal and physical. there’s some fluff but don’t let ransom trick you like he’s obviously tricked me.
word count: this shit is almost 25,000 fucking words 😂😂😂. i dead ass kept being like why the fuck am I taking so long to post this? Then I saw the word count and I 😳🤭🤗😂 someone pls tell me i did not just devote 25,000 words to exposing myself as a weak ass hoe for Ransom. pls tell me this is a fever dream. i can’t.
pairing: ransom drysdale x reader
a/n: holy fuck, am i a disaster. i apologize, i kept falling asleep and wow, i’m just confused about my entire process for writing this bc it was abnormal af.
part one: x part two: x (however, you don’t really need to read them to understand this mess? pretty sure.)
Christmas Eve:
It somehow felt that the entire hellscape that you were currently living in had simultaneously transpired yesterday but also years ago. That was the common feeling one was left with in times of so much exposure to Thrombeys. It was a whirlwind, but there were the good moments, and then the really bad moments, but then the kind of fun moments… It was a rollercoaster, honestly. One you had incorrectly believed you could cope with.
Meg and Joni had called you in a panic from the ski lodge they’d gone to in Canada. There was talk of stopping all flights, how were they going to get home? And lord, what about their home? Were they really supposed to stay there? Since being cut off, Joni had made some career moves that were smart, but she still had to scale back. They were in a much smaller place than before, one that was only temporary—Joni claimed as much about one million times while signing the papers for it.
Jacob had been the next to call, a hysterical Donna could be heard in the background. They had also been moving into another home because of financial issues. You weren’t sure what the ploy was with having Jacob call. Out of everyone in the family, he was the one you spoke to the least, maybe in competition with his irritating mother. Perhaps that had been the angle, were you really going to leave them isolated with their possibly murderous son in such a small house in an unknown neighborhood?
The answer was no. You weren’t going to leave out any Thrombeys. The Drysdales, on the other hand… You had made your terms quite clear. So, with the news of a quarantine sweeping across the country, these overprivileged people flocked to the house they had once called their own. But it was your house now, and that meant it was well within your right to exclude Linda and Richard.
The night you had told Ransom about it was…quite a night.
March: the arrival,
Your grand idea was to deliver the news quickly, over a drink when he was in the best mood he could be. You casually told him that Joni and Meg would be arriving first, then Walt, Donna, and Jacob.
He stared for a long time before simply stating, “I will not let them in the house.”
You rolled your eyes. “Ransom—”
He leaned forward, slamming his glass down on the table between you. “It’s not happening.”
You arched an eyebrow. Was he trying to be intimidating? Oh, you would be just terrified if you were an elderly author or poor nurse tasked with caring for the mentioned author. Seeing as you were his girlfriend, he was out of luck on that.
“I will lock the doors,” he declared, standing to place his hands on his hips. “Not one of those assholes is getting in here. You understand me?”
Instead of answering, you grabbed your drink and returned to the magazine in your lap. That was probably Ransom’s greatest source of irritation, when you decided you were done with the dramatics and ignored him.
He scoffed. “The fact that you think this is happening… It just goes to show—you call me a narcissist, but clearly, you are the narcissist! It takes one to know one!”
It takes one to know one? “Are you five?”
He crossed his arms over his chest.
With a soft sigh, you turned the page. It was silent for several seconds and you weren’t sure if he was trying to build up to something or if he just had nothing else left to try. Whatever it was, you told yourself you were ready for it. How many years was it now? You couldn’t be surprised anymore.
“Are you only with me for sex?”
And you stood corrected. Narrowing your eyes, you looked up at him. “I’m sorry?”
“You clearly don’t care about my feelings—”
“Ransom, seriously, shut up. This is happening, okay? Your family is scared right now, you could try being human. This was their home for a time, of course, they want to be somewhere they feel comfort—”
“No, I’m putting my foot down.”
You rolled your eyes again. “You don’t have a foot to put down. This is my house, too.”
“Too,” he repeated firmly. “Too!”
“Ransom,” you snapped, getting to your feet and throwing the magazine on the table. “Stop acting like a child. They will be here tomorrow. I’m going to bed and if you wanted to join me, that would be great.”
He sat back down, a clear indication that that was not happening.
Things with Ransom, since the last argument, hadn’t been as tense as you thought they would be. Majorly, nothing really changed. Well, sex changed. You guys just weren’t doing that, which was major, because of the rate at which it had been occurring. But other than that, nothing changed. He wasn’t ignoring you, he wasn’t not touching you, there was very simple no sex. At all. But was that something you were okay with? Hell no. It was getting old and you were getting fucking tired of it.
“Fine, if you don’t, just know that I am keeping track.”
“Track?” he narrowed his eyes. “Of what?”
“How many nights I’ve slept without you and how many nights you’ve gone without fucking me.”
“After your last indiscretion, did you really expect anything else? Which you still haven’t apologized for, by the way.”
“Apologize?” you scoffed. “For keeping a fucking vibrator? What do you want me to say, Ransom? Sorry that I have yet to give you total control over my body?”
“That is exactly what I want to hear.”
Without another word, you simply rolled your eyes at him and stormed off to the room you had once upon a time shared with your boyfriend. Not that he officially moved out. In fact, he was still sleeping in there and kept his shit in there. But he was not falling asleep with you nor was he was present when you woke up.
You had no idea what he was doing in there and you were trying to be human, unlike Ransom. Everyone deserved privacy. Besides, he’d made you your sunroom and it afforded him a lot of forgiveness. It was this tiny extension of the house that had huge windows and was just small enough to fit your yoga mat, a couch, and about a billion plants. You read there a lot, you also escaped Ransom a few times. You could understand his desire for an office. But as frequently as he was using it? That was scary.
Admittedly, it was difficult to stay mad at him when you walked through the house that you’d almost now completely rebuilt together. The only exclusion being the office. It had been one of those Harlan rooms that you’d never actually been in prior because you were not family. Weeks ago, you watched Ransom remove everything, add new things, but you still hadn’t been inside. He didn’t so much tell you that it was his own personal room, but it was very clear in how he locked the door. Like, all the time.
You had already been prepping for bed, knowing that the discussion was going to be exhausting. You threw yourself straight into bed, not overly optimistic about the possibility that you were going to fall asleep.
Maybe it was the argument, the mention, the acknowledgment that you guys weren’t having sex. Did he even care? It didn’t seem like it. That caused concern for you. You’d always thought that you would be much older when the two of you would be having no sex. You wondered if things were changing, if your relationship was changing.
Officially, it was hopeless. You were not going to fall asleep. You were just about to get back up when you heard him walking up the stairs, you froze, held your breath, hoped that maybe he wanted to end this. Instead, he walked by the room and to the end of the hall, where said office was.
Fine, fuck him. You just had to get up and moving, there was no shortage of shit you had to prepare. Jacob, though terrible, was family, and a teenage boy. You were going to set him up in a smaller room on the bottom floor. Harlan usually had live-in staff stay in that room if they ever fell on hard times. You figured he would enjoy the privacy. Walt might even enjoy not sleeping in the same room as the next Ted Bundy.
Meg’s room was the most used since she stopped by on weekends sometimes when Ransom was gone for the day or stayed out late. They always met in the kitchen when morning came to argue and give you a headache, however.
She probably needed towels in the bathroom. She might even end up wanting different sheets. Jacob would need more sheets. Was there a color you should give him in the case that the little psycho killed someone, if you wanted to prevent stains? Joni’s room had been cleared out except for major furniture so you wanted to get that set before the morning. You had intended to set all of this up at some horribly early hour, but you were too annoyed to try sleeping. What better time than now?
Did you even have food? You would probably need to go to the store in the morning. You would make a careful list and ensure that no one would need to leave the house again because you were not going to let one of these rich idiots get you sick. Food, sheets because as you were walking through the linen closet, you discovered that you didn’t have really any sets of sheets. Then, you would need laundry detergent, fabric softener. Not all the rooms had pillows—
“What the hell are you doing?”
Ransom found you madly scribbling on a notepad in the center of Joni’s room. You didn’t bother to look at him when you answered, “Making a shopping list.”
“May I ask what for?”
“We have no sheets or pillows or food…or really anything, Ransom. Are we fucking vampires?”
He sighed as he made his way to you. “Okay, it’s time for bed.”
“Go away if you’re not going to be helpful.”
“No, get up now.” But he was met with nothing but silence. Instead of trying another round of verbal communication, he effortlessly grabbed your arms and picked you up.
“Ransom!”
He abruptly took your face in his hands. “They’re lucky they even get to be here. You’re not doing a single thing for these people.”
“Stop, okay? This is our house, we have to have these things—”
“No, you stop. Stop trying to do anything for them because no matter what, they’re going to complain.”
You glared. “Are you trying to help? Just go back to your stupid office and leave me be.”
He arched an eyebrow at you. “It is time for bed. I’m taking you to the room—”
“I’m just going to sneak out as soon as you leave for your office, so don’t waste my time or yours—”
He abruptly threw you up over his shoulder.
“Ransom!” you shrieked in absolute panic, he had never done this. Dragged you kicking and screaming? Yes. Literally pulled you along the floor by your legs? Yes. This? No, not once.
He was quick to get to the room, worried about how exactly you would react, what you were willing to do to make him drop you. He tossed you down on the mattress.
“You’re such an ass! I have to—”
He silenced you by pulling off his T-shirt.
So, he interrupted you because he wanted to have sex? After he had been withholding it? You feigned an unbothered expression. “Ransom, fuck off.”
He scowled. “Why did I have to find you? Why did life bring you to me? Personally, the meaningless fucking was fine for me, a lot less trouble.”
You scoffed. “Do you think I like being with you?! You’re the worst person I’ve ever fucking met, possibly the worst person on this fucking planet!”
He rolled his eyes. “Get on your knees.”
“You are not serious.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re seriously fucking insane, but you’re not serious in that you actually think that’s going to happen!”
“Get. On. Your. Knees. You can do it on your own or I can do it for you.”
You weighed your options. You wanted to have sex with your boyfriend, you wanted to be close to him. However, if he left you after you sucked him off, you might end up killing him. But what could you do? Ransom was apparently in a mood.
Whatever theatrics that were going to occur tonight were already planned, you realized. If he was going to walk away, he was going to walk away. No amount of arguing or any other behavioral tactics were going to change that. You would hit him, you were sure of that, but at least you could get back to making your home presentable.
You reached back for a pillow and gave him a challenging look. He arched an eyebrow at you as you slowly jumped off the bed, laid your pillow at his feet and got to your knees.
“The fuck is this? You suddenly a princess?”
“I’ve always been a princess,” you declared. “One day, a wonderful man or woman, who’s going to give me an even bigger house, is going to know it.”
He glared. “What the fuck is your problem? Do I need to start paying you to keep your mouth shut?”
You snorted. “You have money?”
And that was, apparently, a line crossed for Ransom. Furiously, without another word, he yanked his pants open and shoved them down with his boxers.
Instead of staring at his cock in front of your face, you looked up at him.
He sighed. “Y/N, suck my cock.”
You shrugged. “Why?”
He took himself in one hand and grabbed your hair in the other. He brought your mouth to the head of his cock and waited patiently. You did nothing, simply kept your gaze on him. Rolling his eyes, he pulled at your hair.
You attempted to keep your lips clamped but he continued yanking until you opened your mouth to cry out. Then, without hesitation, he shoved his cock down your throat. You gagged instantly, hands snapping up to shove at his thighs. He wouldn’t budge, he kept you there no matter how hard you tried to push him away—which, admittedly, since you were so wet, wasn’t very hard—or how many times you gagged.
His free hand touched your cheek. “You’re fucking beautiful like this.”
He could fuck off—as soon as he was done coming, you would walk away. You didn’t even want to be fucked by him anymore. But sadly, you had missed the taste of him, the feel of his skin on your tongue.
When he finally pulled you off his cock, you gasped for air. Then, once again, he was thrusting back in. You were choking on him, eyes watering, throat burning, drooling, sniffling, hands begging to be let up again with how hard they gripped his thighs.
But Ransom only let you off when he wanted. The second time, he allowed you to try to catch your breath. Your head was spinning since you were not quite getting oxygen back fast enough. You were blinking away those tiny black spots appearing behind your eyes. He used one hand to wipe away the tears on your cheeks and whatever was falling down your chin.
Then he was bringing you down once more. Holding you in place, he began fucking your mouth slowly, gently, two words that normally did not apply to Ransom. He took his time, he wanted you aching and craving him, and you really fucking were. You thought you wouldn’t feel a thing if he walked away after thing, but now, you knew you were going to set that office on fire if he tried it.
As he neared his end, he grew noisier. You liked that about Ransom, he didn’t hold back due to some insane fragile masculinity thing—no, that was often displayed in less conventional ways. He liked fucking you and he liked letting you know.
He picked up speed eventually, paying no mind to the sounds of you choking every time he thrust in a tad too hard. You didn’t even care, you knew you would be soaking wet, if you just reached down and felt…
He yanked you down when he was coming, buried deep in your throat, reveling in the feel of your throat moving around him, trying not to choke, trying to breathe. “Don’t make a mess, baby, swallow everything I’m giving you.”
You tried, really, you were not just playing your usual game of disobedience. But he really was choking you, so when you tried to swallow, things did not go according to plan. You gagged, nothing was swallowed. A mess you did create. On him, the floor, yourself, the pillow.
Ransom pulled you off and then grabbed your arm to haul you up. His hand still in your hair, he forced you to look up at him, bending your neck back almost uncomfortably. You were still struggling with lack of oxygen and just about fell into him completely, clearly being bratty was not on your mind.
He waited patiently, as if he wanted an explanation. No, you did not intend to do the opposite of what he had told you, but you weren’t about to let him know that. “Baby,” he cooed. His hand slid up from your arm to your neck where some of his cum was sliding down toward your chest. “What was what?”
“Out of practice, I guess. It’s been months since you’ve touched me.” Okay, it had just barely been two months yesterday, but if he could be dramatic, you were allowed as well.
He arched an eyebrow. “Considering you only need to say one word to me, I don’t think you really want it that bad.”
“You’re right, I don’t.”
His expression fell. He had hoped you would desperately blurt out an apology, clearly. Without another word, he shoved you onto the bed.
You stared up at him, face composed. “Don’t you have an office to be in?”
“You seem very jealous of that office, baby.”
“Why would I be? I finally get to be away from you.”
He leaned forward and grabbed your shorts and panties. The way he ripped them off you was damn near violent. You both wanted something rough tonight. “Then why is your pussy wet?”
You shrugged. “Couldn’t be for you. I can’t remember the last time you made me come.”
He leaned over, slowly crawling his way up your body.
Without prompt, you reached between your bodies and pulled your shirt over your head, arching a little more than necessary.
He took your forearms and pinned them to the bed. “Tell me how bad you need me.”
You shook your head. “I don’t.”
“I’m not joking.”
“I’m not joking,” you countered. “I. Don’t. Need. You.”
He took your jaw in one hand, forcing you to meet his stare. “Y/N, seriously.”
He really wasn’t joking, but again, neither were you. “Ransom, if you walk out before you fuck me, I will leave you. Do you understand me? I’ll fucking disappear, and you will never ever see me again.”
He smirked. “I understand.”
“I need you,” you breathed, free arm sliding around his shoulder, clinging tight. “I really fucking need you. I need you inside me. You know it’s been too long.”
Smiling like he just won the lottery, he rolled onto his side a little, turning your hips with him. “Yes,” he agreed. “Too long, baby, I’m sorry.”
You knew he wasn’t. You felt his tip at your entrance and you held your breath. He was a dick, yes, but you had been absolutely starving for his touch, his attention.
He pressed inside and it stung almost as bad as it had the first time. You turned your head away, hand pressed to your mouth to keep quiet. You hadn’t noticed your eyes were filled with tears until he touched your cheek and you blinked in surprise. You weren’t sure what you were crying about, the pain or the relief of finally feeling him.
You kept yourself turned from him, hoping he would just drop it. Of course, he wouldn’t. Of course, the one time you were willing to give Ransom a pass to be a complete ass, he wouldn’t want to take it.
“Sorry, baby girl,” he cooed. He had stopped, letting you adjust to him. However, Ransom didn’t have an ounce of patience and you knew his restraint was slipping. “I’m sorry, I’ll make it better.”
You also knew he wasn’t sorry. You squeezed your eyes shut until he was buried inside you. Feeling so full was something you had missed but feeling wanted was what you had been longing for. He could say the words, he could give you lingering looks when you were wearing a dress or a tight top, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t convince you like when he just grabbed you and used you to satisfy every sick desire he had.
He grabbed your face and forced you to turn back but your eyes were shut. Instead of trying to get you to look at him, he kissed you. His lips moved over yours until you were finally curling into him, his arm wrapped around your back and pinned you against him.
Intimate, close, slow, but so fucking hard, that was how he made you come the first time. There were no words, just grabbing each other, gasping into the kiss, biting one another’s lips, tongue and teeth, scratching nails, pulling hair. He watched your face as you were coming down, hips still snapping up, fingers brushing along your cheeks.
He rolled onto his back and brought you with him. You hissed at the ache of this new angle, using your knees to pull off just a little. He took your hands and set them to the headboard. The way he stared up at you, like he was worshiping every inch of you, it made your skin burn.
“Ride me,” he ordered.
Hands gripping the bed, your hips began to roll. Ransom stared the whole time, where his cock was disappearing inside you, your moving breasts, your gorgeous, soft body. He used one hand to pinch your nipples alternatively and the opposite hand to focus solely on your clit.
You were breathless, shaking, chasing after that climbing high. You let the headboard go in favor of grabbing his hands, dragging them up to circle around your neck. As he began to apply pressure, you continued bouncing on his cock, unashamedly screaming now that he was stifling the noise.
Watching your eyes fill with tears, hearing those strangled sounds tear from your throat, it was enough to get him there as soon as your cunt started to tighten. He was coming with you, squeezing your neck tighter, so tight you tried to pull his hands off you.
But it was futile, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. He threw you down, rolling over so he was on top of you. You wrapped your legs around him, spreading your thighs and taking him in deeper.
He set one hand to the mattress to hold himself up but kept his other hand on your neck. He leaned over, forehead pressing to yours, breathing hotly against your skin. “Say it again.”
“Say what?” you choked out.
“You know.”
You always knew. He had only asked you for this one other time since you’d said it that first night. You stopped caring that he was probably never going to say it back. “I love you.”
His hips finally stilled. You weren’t sure what his response was going to be, but you knew what it wasn’t going to be. Yes, you’d stopped caring, but were you okay with it? You weren’t entirely convinced. But what were you going to do? Leave Ransom? That seemed highly unlikely.
So, you decided to speak before he could. “Even though you’re a fucking loser.”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “And I guess you’re hot enough to keep around even if that mouth annoys the hell out of me.”
That, you suspected, was as close as he was going to get to ever stating his feelings for you. “Are you going to let me get back to my list?”
He rolled his eyes. “No. Not done yet.”
You arched an eyebrow. “Really? You lasted, like, three minutes—”
He gave you a sharp look. “Must be my age, I guess I’ll need a minute before I can go again. But you, baby girl,” he grabbed one of your hands and brought your fingers up to his lips.
You watched closely as he kissed every knuckle before he brought your hand down and pressed your first two fingers to your clit. You shuddered. “Ransom, wait—”
“Since you like getting yourself off so much, you’re going to—”
You sighed. “Ransom, please—”
“And I’m going to watch until I’m ready to fuck you again.”
You pouted up at him. “You said it was time for bed.”
“I changed my mind.” He pulled your legs from around him and sat back to watch you. He pulled one thigh further from the other and gave you an expectant look. “I wasn’t asking, baby.”
For what felt like the first time in years, you were woken up by your boyfriend with his hand between your legs. You were laying on his chest, he was kissing the top of your head, tracing patterns along your spine and just barely teasing your clit.
All he needed to know was that you were awake and then had you pinned underneath him before you could say a word. Last night was nice but now the sun was shining through the blinds and you could see all of him. The freckles on his skin, the fine lines around his mouth because he does actually smile even if he doesn’t want anyone to know. And all his muscles—ugh.
“Good morning,” he said softly.
You smiled. “I have to get up and start getting ready.”
“No, baby. The only thing you need to do is open your legs so your boyfriend can fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”
“Oh, deserve?” you scoffed. “I always deserve to be fucked. What changed your mind?”
He shrugged his shoulder. “Does it matter?”
Few things did when it really came down to your relationship with Ransom. It was all one huge give-and-take and neither of you shied away from taking advantage of that lack of communication.
He kept you there for nearly half an hour, insisting that you give him just one more finish, but he’d done that nearly four times. The reason you were able to escape was that there was someone at the door. As Ransom when to see who it was, you ran for the shower.
You were surprised when he joined you. One of your favorite things in your entire relationship was taking showers with Ransom, but it rarely happened. Whether that be because you were always on a time limit when you were getting ready or because he woke up later than you.
He wrapped his arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.
“I miss taking showers with you, you’re warm.”
He turned to kiss your cheek. “You going shopping?” he muttered against your skin.
“Yeah, we don’t have anything either. We’re out of your favorite cookies, you know.”
He hummed. “Okay, just be safe. Wear a mask and try not to touch anything you don’t have to. Put everything in the back of your car, I put hand sanitizer in there so use it before you touch anything inside.”
You scoffed as you looked back, eyebrow arching. “You sound scared.”
He shrugged. “Well, you know… I just don’t want you to get sick.”
You smiled a little.
“Because I don’t want to have to take care of you.”
“Ugh, Ransom!” You brought your hand up to flick his forehead, but he caught your wrist and used the opposite hand to turn you around.
His arm slid across the small of your back and he picked you up to walk you to the shower wall. He pinned you against it completely, the shower head was almost directly over the two of you. Instead of attempting to watch him, you closed your eyes and pulled him into a kiss by his hair. He angled his hips up and easily thrust inside you.
Your mouth dropped and you gasped, he used that as his chance to bite down on your lip. You were sore between your legs, but the ache was a reminder that Ransom had put aside his pettiness because he had wanted you so badly. You brought your leg up to hook around his hip and used that as your leverage as you began to roll your hips.
He shuddered and bit harder on your lip still trapped between his teeth. He only let it go so he could turn down and press his mouth to your shoulder. “Slow baby, fuck me slow.”
You did as he directed. You slid off his cock and then slid back down, using all the restraint you could muster because you couldn’t wait until his broke. You couldn’t wait for him to grab you and take charge.
His hand slid between the two of you and he began pressing down on your clit, just slightly.
“I could kill you, Ransom,” you blurted out. “You better not ever go so long without touching me again.”
He nodded. “I promise, I will not.”
If you had a question about his tone, it died when his hands finally grasped your hips. “Tell me what you want.”
“Hard,” you pleaded. “So hard, please. I want to feel you all day, I want it to hurt until you’re inside me again.”
And goodness, did he make it hurt. He fucked you until you could no longer stand, until you weren’t able to coherently tell him that you weren’t sure you would ever be able to on your own again.
He had to set you on the floor of the tub when he knew it was time to get out. You weren’t sure why, and if you had been in a better mindset, you would have remembered the importance of always asking Ransom questions about his actions. However, all you could do was stay still, a little dizzy, vibrating pleasantly all over.
It somehow felt like hours but only seconds that he left you alone. When he was standing you back up, you still didn’t have the good sense to ask what the hell he was doing, but you absolutely melted when he pulled you from the shower and wrapped you up in a warm towel. A towel that had clearly just come out of the dryer—this man, that he could be so perfect and just chose not to be, deserved to be in jail. Yeah, the murder thing was a strike against him, you guessed, but this? Unforgivable.
When you got back home, there were several cars that you had never seen. Somehow, despite not getting an inheritance, the Thrombeys still knew how to make money. Which just made the whole Harlan thing even more annoying. Why all the dramatics? Rich people didn’t get poor the same way poor people got poorer. It was merely a showing of greed.
But you could not dwell on things like that, otherwise, this whole thing was going to go bad much quicker than you had suspected. You also couldn’t be the one that made it go bad. You weren’t an actual Thrombey or a Drysdale—and never would be since you fell in love with the least committal one of them all. You, despite extending your home and kindness, needed to be a lot more behaved than Ransom.
As you were bringing in the groceries, you glanced at the cars. There were five in total and you shuddered to think Jacob was driving. He was about that age, of course, but still, yikes. Meg and Joni probably showed up separately, which meant Donna and Walt did as well. Okay, weird, but you long ago stopped trying to guess why these people did what they did.
You wrestled with the front door for a moment and the noise of it brought in Joni and Meg. The older woman was completely decked out in crystals, unsurprisingly, you had just read an about how crystal shops were doing particularly well at this time.
“Hey, guys,” you greeted.
“Thank you so much for letting us stay here,” Meg immediately responded, taking some of the bags from your hands.
Joni followed her daughter’s lead. “Yes, honey, let us help you.”
Okay, suspicious. These people rarely did a thing that would constitute as the simplest of work—save for Meg, of course. “Thanks, but Ransom really should be helping me.” You gently pressed the door back with your leg, not shutting it completely but trying to keep the cold at bay. “Ransom!”
“He’s in the kitchen,” Joni informed.
“Great, we can head that way.”
On the walk there, you found Donna and Walt were in what was now one of many family rooms. They greeted you a tad overenthusiastically—regardless, you couldn’t stop, you’d just deal with it later.
“You didn’t need to go shopping for us,” Donna said.
“Oh, it’s fine,” you assured. “We needed a few things, I thought I’d get it done all at once so you guys wouldn’t need to worry about it.”
As if given a cue, they all began to thank you again. Again, you would need to deal with this when your arms were less full and there weren’t about a million bags in the back of your car.
You led the way to the kitchen, Meg and Joni on your tail. “Was the trip over here easy enough?”
“So weird,” Joni claimed. “People are literally going insane. I went to my usual crystal shop before I got here…”
Typical. She proceeded to tell you about how she had an “altercation” with a woman for a tiger’s eye finished into the shape of her animal spirit guide—which you were forgetting at the moment, a swan or something.
You stopped trying to recall those past conversations in case she quizzed you about what your animal was—she had stressed the importance of finding it and you promised you would the next time you saw her—when you saw Richard and Linda sitting at your kitchen table. Ransom was at the counter, a glass of whiskey in hand.
You merely glanced at them before turning to him. There were no words at all for the rage you felt at that moment. Joni had stopped speaking and was working to get the bags she’d taken from you onto a flat surface so she could grab the rest.
“Y/N!” Richard greeted. “Thank you so much for letting us stay here.”
You lifted your eyebrows at Ransom.
“She obviously didn’t know, Richard,” Linda pointed out. “Because she’s been trying to steal my son away since the day that she met him.”
You turned to her. “Are you—?”
“No, no, no,” Joni interjected. “She didn’t mean that!” She set the last of the bags down and touched your shoulder. “She’s joking!” She turned to Linda. “You’re joking, right?”
“Of course,” Linda claimed, unconvincingly with a smirk that you had come to recognize as smug. Not that you’d seen it much on her, but her son, on the other hand…
Speaking of Ransom, he looked beyond exhausted. Only, he wasn’t, he was just trying to convey that because it was clear that he didn’t intend to have this discussion with you. It never was a discussion, because, for some reason, he made all the excuses in the world for his mother and would obviously choose her over you.
Suddenly, in your mind, things all fell into place. Richard and Linda probably got here after all the others, the rest had been set to get there around noon. He’d kept you in bed to stop you from getting home before them because then you could keep them out of the house, you could have caused a huge scene. Now? It was clear that you were outvoted, the rest of the family probably would have thought of you as unreasonable if you kicked them out now.
Fine, it was all fine. You weren’t going to argue about this, not then. It would give Linda joy to see you have a complete meltdown. Ransom had already humiliated you enough by doing this completely behind your back, you weren’t going to give her anything else.
You turned to the counter to grab his keys. “Well, then you get to go back to the store.” You threw the keys at his chest, probably harder than you should have, and turned to head back out to your car.
It was silent until you exited the room, then Linda felt the need to voice her opinion no one asked for. “I’m just saying, I wouldn’t marry her. She’s shopping for essential items the day company was planned to arrive?”
You turned right back around but Meg was there to usher you back outside. She knew you needed a moment of fresh air and a moment away from Linda. Meg was a rather sympathetic person, she understood completely where you were coming from. In her mind, you were right and Ransom was so wrong for what he did, and Linda was wrong as well. But she also told you, this was how this family went. Linda was at the top now that Harlan was gone. If you sincerely wanted to be with Ransom—and she was confused about that—you would have to suck it up.
That much you agreed with, to an extent. It was clear that you were never going to be able to fix these people completely, but you were trying to create boundaries. Linda could not hit your boyfriend, her son. But how was she going to learn that if Ransom didn’t give a damn? She wasn’t.
You were suddenly wishing you’d accepted the invitation from your parents to stay with them until this all settled down. You had been too scared, however, because of the distance that seemed to be growing with Ransom. Now, you just felt like an idiot.
He lied to you. He did this behind your back, and he used intimacy to distract you from his plans, and that was absolutely disgusting. You couldn’t get over that. You felt used, by the one person you’re supposed to be able to trust more than anyone else in the world.
“Meg, can we have a minute?”
You turned away as soon as you heard Ransom off to your side. If you had a minute with him, you would probably murder him.
“Um,” she started, shifting awkwardly.
“It’s fine,” you assured. “Can you start putting away the groceries, please?”
“Yes, I will do that,” she eagerly confirmed. Meg liked to feel helpful, she often felt guilty about her privilege and wanted to be anything but another typical Thrombey. It was refreshing given all the other extreme personalities you would have to be living with for a while.
“I bought enough sheets for every single bed in the house for the next ten years,” you informed. “Those are fine. We’ll just need more food, probably—”
Ransom reached out for your arm, but you jerked away from him.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Hey—”
You finally turned to him. “I am not talking about this. You lied to me, you did this behind my back—”
“She’s my mom—”
“And I’m your girlfriend!” you hissed back. “And I am so fucking tired of this and you. Last night, you had sex with me to distract me so you could fucking sneak your parents in here. Who does that?!”
“That’s not why I had sex with you—”
“Really?” you demanded. No, you wouldn’t be having this talk, it wasn’t happening. Turning away, you sighed, “It doesn’t matter. I’m done talking to you about this, I’m serious. Do whatever the fuck you want, Ransom. That’s what you always do anyway. I’m done caring.”
“Look, we can’t be fighting with these people here—”
“You should have thought about that before you lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie—”
“I’m having a really hard time right now not running you over with my car,” you asserted, “So I’m going to go back inside. I just need you to go to the store for me, okay? Please, can you do one thing, literally, Ransom, just one thing to help me feel, like, 10% less stressed about all of this?”
“Okay. Yeah, I’ll go to the store.”
“Great.” You started to pull out more bags from the car.
“Can we talk about this later?”
“I don’t know yet.” Hell no, but you weren’t going to tell him that. With full arms, you stormed around him and back into the house.
Later, when he got home, he discovered that you had moved out of the bedroom. Yes, you had moved your shit to another room, locked it, and acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
April: the parents’ bedroom,
It was six in the morning, you had just failed at finishing your yoga routine due to your pounding headache. You’d thought a smoothie would make you feel much better, but see, that was with the condition that everyone else was still asleep.
Not the case.
Joni and Richard were currently in the middle of a debate about anti-maskers. Joni, surprisingly, given all her healing crystals shit, thought anti-maskers were idiots. Richard, on the other hand, believed this was a free country and people should have the right to choose anything and everything because “that’s America”.
You had a blender full of ingredients and when you finally got to turn it on, it was comparable to an orgasm. If only because you and Ransom were back to a no-touching arrangement. You could barely stand to look at him.
They seemed unbothered by the blender, their argument only getting louder. You went to the cabinet to grab some pills, anything that would make your head feel better. Could anything with these people? You weren’t overly optimistic about that prospect.
You took your place back at the blender, leaning down to fall into the pain of that instead of the politics conversation. They did this often. Last week, it was whether people should vote this November. Prior, it had been traveling bans, canceled events, whether unemployment should be giving people as much as they are. Linda and Walt interjected sometimes, even Meg because she couldn’t remain silent on a few occasions, but you, Ransom, and Jacob all but steered clear of it.
You felt a hand on your shoulder and stood up straight. You didn’t want anyone knowing you weren’t feeling well. Richard and Walt always acted like you were dying, Joni would start with her crystals and lectures about the importance of meditating.
Thankfully, it was just Ransom. He had been out, he was wearing a scarf, a heavy jacket, and his pale cheeks were flushed red. He nodded out of the room and you followed because silence seemed too tempting.
“What is it, Ransom?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I need a reason to speak to you?”
Your eyes fell shut and you pressed your fingers to your temples. He wasn’t being serious right now, was he? He wanted to have a conversation right now? You felt on the verge of death.
He touched your shoulder again. “Are you okay?”
“Just a headache. Not a big deal.”
“Not trying to be an ass—”
You opened your eyes. “But you’re so good at it.”
“I told you this was a bad idea.”
“Ransom,” you sighed, shrugging his hand off.
He caught you before you could turn away. “Hey.”
“Ransom, please, I don’t want to talk about this.”
“I don’t want to talk much either.”
You narrowed your eyes.
He shrugged. “You know I know how to make you feel better when you have a headache.”
You hummed. “Sex? Why? Are you trying to distract me again? Were you hoping I wouldn’t notice your inability to wake up at a reasonable hour for me, but how willing you seem to wake up at 5 in the morning to have coffee with your mommy?”
“I wasn’t asleep,” he insisted. “And she heard me come downstairs.”
“Yes, great cover. So convincing.”
“I do not wake up to have coffee with her every morning. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
You lifted your eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He glared. “It’s because I hate sleeping without you.”
“You made me sleep without you—!”
“That was not what you think!”
You narrowed your eyes. “It wasn’t a temper tantrum over the vibrator?”
“No, okay, stop. We’re not going back, okay? No talk about the past, we need to talk about now. You’re the one that made me promise that I wouldn’t withhold sex—”
“I’m not withholding sex, Ransom, I just have no desire to be around you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Doubt that.”
“If you’re having issues sleeping, maybe you should ask your mommy to read you a bedtime story and—”
He pressed his hand over your mouth and started dragging you across the room.
Immediately, you started screaming at him. What the fuck? And you continued to do this until you realized he was leading you to Richard and Linda’s room. Eww, if you didn’t want to talk to him, you certainly didn’t want to talk to her.
But despite your struggling, he forced you into the room and slammed the door before you could escape.
“What the hell?” you demanded.
“This fight is over.”
“No, it’s not!”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m being ridiculous because I care about you? I’m done, I can’t do this anymore. My parents want me to stay with them and I think I should—”
His eyes widened at you. “This is your god damn house—”
“You clearly don’t think so! I had one condition, just one fucking condition. I wanted her to apologize for trying to physically assault you and somehow that makes me the villain in this situation?”
“That’s not what I’m saying—”
“You went behind my back, Ransom.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
Wow, was that an actual apology? It didn’t matter. One apology a month later was too small. “Look, it’s too late, okay? I’m exhausted and I just want to go home—”
“This is your fucking home!”
“No, it’s your mother’s fucking home and it always will be if you let her do whatever the fuck she wants!”
“She apologized!”
“Oh, please,” you scoffed.
He reached into his pants and yanked out his phone. Easily, he found one of the last texts that they had exchanged and turned it to you.
Don’t tell your psycho, fragile girlfriend but I am sorry. I shouldn’t have acted the way that I did. I understand that it was out of line, it will not happen again. Can we come over? You know I don’t want to be alone with your father.
It took three seconds to go from partially angry to very, absolutely, completely outraged. You smacked the phone out of his hand and it clattered to the hardwood floor. “I’m going to fucking kill you, Ransom!”
He threw his arms up. “For what?!”
“Why didn’t you fucking tell me this earlier?!”
“She would have known that I told you.”
“And?!”
“And,” he began, “I…don’t really know what I thought would happen.”
You shoved at his chest and he didn’t even have the energy to step back simply to make you feel better. He didn’t move an inch because you shoving him was like a cat trying to push a lion. “You are such a fucking mommy’s boy! I’m done with this whole thing, I’m done with you!”
“No, you’re not!”
“Yes, I am! You can’t make me stay here, you can’t make me—”
“You love me!”
Your eyes widened. He made you tell him you loved him, never said it back, and now he was using it against you? “You are dead! Do you understand me?! I’m going to run you over with your fucking Beemer! Then I’m going to get a new boyfriend and I’m going to let him fuck me in that stupid fucking car!”
He grabbed a handful of your hair and your hands flew back to scratch at his forearm. He shoved you back onto the bed and made the mistake of rolling over to attempt to get away from him. He grabbed both of your wrists and managed to get them into one of his hands, then yanked down your yoga pants.
“You are tearing them, you ass!”
And then he smacked your bare skin hard enough that it echoed, loud enough that you were sure anyone in the kitchen could have heard it. Your entire body burned with humiliation, but you loved the pain. How had you survived so long without him doing this?
“Shut the fuck up,” he ordered.
“Are you seriously trying to fuck me in your parents’ room?” you snapped.
“No, I am going to fuck you in my parents’ room,” he corrected. “What? You’re not into this anymore? This wouldn’t be the first time.”
“They sleep here,” you reminded. “This is weird given your obsession with her.”
“I changed the sheets this morning.”
“Are you fucking serious? You’re her maid now?”
He smacked you again and you pressed your face down to muffle your scream. “No, I just always knew that I was going to fuck you here today.”
You waited until the pain subsided before you turned your face, Ransom was still working the yoga pants down, a task that seemed impossible with only one hand. “Where were you today?”
“I had a meeting.”
“With whom?”
“None of your business.”
“Yes, it is my business, you fucking dick! If you’re not going to let me go home—”
He spanked you again, harder now, it seemed like an angry action, not just a retaliating one. “You are home, this is your fucking home and if you suggest otherwise again, I fucking swear—”
“What?” you demanded. “You’re going to tattle to your mommy?”
“I should fucking strangle you,” he growled, and before you could say anything, his hand was at your pussy. He scoffed. “You are seriously this wet? You have so many fucking issues.”
“One issue,” you argued. “You.” But that was a lie and he was more than right. You could hear him moving his pants out of his way and you were nearly shaking with the need to feel him.
Abruptly, he shoved his cock inside you and you both moaned as you adjusted around him. It was loud, obscenely loud, there was no question about what you two were doing, and you honestly didn’t care anymore. Had he gotten bigger? No, that wasn’t possible. You were pretty sure it wasn’t.
You felt him moving to tear off his coat. “Don’t you dare throw that coat on this floor, Ransom.”
But he did and he did it so eagerly, like he wanted to irritate you. The floors were hardwood, Linda had her dogs in the home, and their fur got everywhere on Ransom’s clothes. He hated you, you hated it because he just threw things away—didn’t even donate them because he’s such a beast.
Next, you felt his scarf around your wrists and started struggling.
“What the fuck are you doing?!”
“Shut up,” he snarled. “You’re lucky I’m not fucking gagging you.”
As his hips began rocking just slightly, he grabbed your jaw and turned your head back. His lips found yours immediately and while you two were sharing a sloppy, unskilled kiss, he began driving his hips into you as hard as he knew you needed him to.
His skin was slapping against yours noisily, the bed was creaking, moving on those extra hard thrusts. He spread your legs out as wide as he could and held them there, fingers digging painfully into your skin.
Things became very clear to Ransom at that moment. You were underneath him, completely at his mercy since you were bound now. You were pouting, pretending that you didn’t like this, and he wanted to fuck that disobedience out of you. He sat back up, holding your hips as he kept steadily moving in and out of you. “I’m going to fuck your ass.”
You blinked once, twice. “What?”
He never pulled out, but he did lean over and start yanking on the drawers of one of the bedside tables.
“What are you doing?” No, he wasn’t going to actually…fuck you there. He’d never done it, he’d never even asked about it even though you brought it up a few times. He’d located your plugs that one time, he knew you were into it. But nothing. Why now?
“I know he has to have something,” he insisted.
“I don’t want to think about your parents like that.”
“Oh, no, just think of my dad like that,” he joked.
You shook your head. “Eww.”
“Oh, eww?” he checked. “Since when? You realize you can never talk about fucking him again, right? Looks like you’re going to have to provoke me in other ways now.”
“I didn’t mean ‘eww’ like that,” you claimed, “I meant ‘eww’ that your mom isn’t fucking him, and I definitely should be, because he totally deserves it for being such a great husband and father, but sadly, I’m here with you instead.”
“You’re such a fucking brat and—got it.” Ransom rarely moved fast, preferring to act like the cocky ass that he was, making it clear that he had all the time in the world to do whatever the hell he wanted. Because you were never going to say no. But now, he was acting like he was in a race.
Your body tensed up as soon as you felt the sharp cold against your skin. Ransom took his fingers and spread the gel over your skin, you gasped when you felt one of his fingers teasing your hole.
He did this a few more times, just making sure that you were properly prepped before his first finger dipped inside you. He set his free hand to your back when you tensed. “Relax,” he ordered. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you assured. You’d done this in the past, liked it, but it had been a long time since.
He started pumping his finger in and out and you began to squirm. You were trying to stay still and quiet, trying to hide how good he was making you feel, but he knew. When you pressed your hips back, he added his second finger and you winced.
His fingers already had you feeling so full. That was what you loved most about being with Ransom, you felt almost incomplete whenever he wasn’t in you. Your body was made to take his, to mold to him completely.
“Here’s how this is gonna go, baby,” he began. “You’re going to start sleeping in our bedroom again. Because I am the only man on this planet who can touch you like this and you’re going to stop being such a brat and taking that for granted.”
You scoffed. You were taking him for granted? Of course, every day you didn’t wake up on your knees for him was probably ‘taking him for granted’.
“Yes?”
You nodded, cheek pressed to the mattress. You didn’t care about winning anymore, you needed to be fucked. You lifted your head to look back at him. “Yeah.”
He pushed his third finger as slowly as he could.
You kept your attention on him, watching as his fingers disappeared inside your ass. As he moved his fingers back and forth, he started to tilt his hips. You were hyperaware of everything, you knew where his cock and fingers were, the wall between your two entrances was thin enough that you could feel it all.
He always thought of you as an insatiable, greedy little thing but even he was surprised when you said you wanted more. You wanted his cock, not his fingers, and he figured you were ready for it because you were soaking his length and the sheets.
As he positioned himself over you again, he pulled his cock out of your pussy and you whimpered. He brought his cock up and spread the fingers inside your asshole to open you up for him. You had never experienced Ransom gentler than when he pressed just the tip of his cock into you. You observed in awe, mouth dropped, panting, desperate, soaking. You knew when you were going to feel him, but you were not prepared at all. His cock was bigger than any plug you had used and you were aching.
He groaned when his fingers were out and all that he could feel was you squeezing the hell out of him. “Fuck. Think you can get on your knees for me?”
You nodded but made no moves to do so. He did instead, lifting your hips, and then grabbing your upper arms to keep you there. You pressed your hips down, swallowing more of his cock, whining and moaning at the painful stretch of him.
“Fuck yourself,” he told you.
You were shuddering, body screaming at the uncomfortable angles you were moving. You pushed your hips up until you felt the head of his cock and settled back down until it felt like it was too much, over and over until he knew that your muscles weren’t capable of continuing.
“Almost there,” he promised, lips at your ear. “Almost taking all of my cock, baby.” He let his hands slide down a little, toward your elbows for leverage, and then he started thrusting. He was careful not to go too deep, listening to the sounds you made because words were not your strong point when he was inside you.
You leaned over a bit, unable to hold yourself up completely. You were hovering over the pillows, his hold on you tight enough that you weren’t worried about falling forward. You were practically choking on a scream when one of his hands moved around you to your clit, immediately feeling lightheaded.
You folded over more and Ransom released your arm to grab your hair. Since you weren’t strong enough to hold yourself up completely, he was yanking on the roots of your hair. Your thighs were quivering because you were using them as your only source of balance, and all of that distracted from the painful stretch of his cock driving into you more and more each time.
Your pleasure was slowly climbing. By the time you were coming, your pussy was dripping onto the sheets, you were sweating, shuddering, gasping for air that you couldn’t seem to get enough of.
And he was only halfway inside you. He shoved two fingers into your cunt and used his grip on your hair to shove your face down on the mattress. All his weight pressed down on you until you were flat on the bed, trapping his arm between you and the mattress.
He left you with some space to work, you rode out your high by fucking yourself on his cock and fingers. You were drowning in the sensations, overwhelmingly full of a man that you knew would eventually drive you crazy.
When your body fell limp, he released your hair and grabbed your hip, guiding you to another devastating orgasm. “You still doing okay, baby?”
For a moment, you could only respond with a moan. His thumb brushed over your clit and you gasped. “Daddy, please, please, please—!”
“You think you deserve it, baby?”
“Please make me come,” you begged.
He waited until you were finishing around his fingers and finally, shoved his cock in completely.
You buried your face in the bed, screaming, sobbing, crying his name. He brought his hand from your hip to your hair, petting and shushing you, and that was all you ever needed from Ransom.
He gave you only seconds before his hips were rolling, his fingers pumping in and out of you, thumb rubbing your clit. He paid no mind to you, he simply used your body, no matter how much you were shuddering and shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm.
It was almost immediate that he pulled out after he finished and climbed off the bed to pull you with him. Your legs were shaking, but he held you tight to keep you up. He turned your back to him so he could watch his cum drip out of your ass.
When he turned you back to him, he gathered his cum from the inside of your thighs and ran his hand across your mouth. Fucked out, covered in him, you never looked more beautiful.
“This is your home,” he told you. “If you say it isn’t again, you won’t be able to walk for a very long time. Understood?”
You shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m convinced yet.”
Ransom tossed you onto the bed like you weighed nothing and went to the door just to lock it. Was it weird that you thought you might get something out of Linda pounding on the door while her son was absolutely pounding you?
May: the anniversary,
It was Linda and Richard’s anniversary and that meant that everyone living in the house had to celebrate because the Thrombeys were starting to face withdrawals from not receiving enough attention from others.
Joni and Walt had decided to cook dinner that night and it surprisingly did not end in disaster. There were some presents, the family was trying their hand at online shopping and as the days ticked by, more and more packages were showing up every day.
The night was ending with a game of charades, something you and Ransom elected not to take part in beyond watching. The first team was Meg, Walt, and Richard. The second team was Joni, Linda, and Donna, and Jacob was the referee. They needed one, every single game because they were oddly competitive and whenever things got too aggressive, they were given a card, from green to red. Red meant disqualification, you’d only seen it happen twice in all these years, but it was great when it did happen.
You couldn’t help but watch Richard and Linda. They’d been married for so long now, so you didn’t understand why Richard had had his affair when he did. She wasn’t overly young, she had no money, it just didn’t make much sense to you.
You were on Ransom’s lap in the chair in the corner of the room. He had been drinking all night, so you chose not to. You guys were a better team when you were coordinating like that. He was always weird about his parents, you figured that was why he’d been off all day.
“Do you think you could ever forgive someone if they cheated on you?” he asked.
You turned to him, eyebrow arched. “I would murder you.”
He scoffed. “Come on, be serious.”
“I am being serious, Ransom.”
“If I were going to cheat on you, I would have already done it. I meant in a general sense.”
“I don’t think you love someone if you cheat on them,” you reasoned. “So, would I forgive? Maybe, I guess, whatever that even means. But would I stay? Hell no.”
“Right?”
“You talking about your parents?”
“It’s so weird, isn’t it? I mean, not really. Men are men and don’t they all eventually cheat?”
“You are playing with fire having this conversation with me.”
He scoffed. “I just don’t get it, why would she stay?”
“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It seems like you all have your, like, comfortable environments. You don’t really want to leave them…at least she gave him that killer black eye.”
“Yeah,” he recalled with a small smile. “But…I don’t know, I don’t completely blame him, either.”
“Ransom,” you warned.
“No, I’m not saying it’s my mom’s fault, but…she doesn’t exactly love him either. Maybe he thought she used to.”
“Maybe she did.”
“Yeah, maybe…I don’t know, if you’re blackmailing someone essentially—”
“She’s not blackmailing him.”
“He has no money,” he insisted. “He’s terrified. She holds it over him constantly.”
“Ransom, right now, choose. Me or money?”
He turned to you. “No hesitation, I would choose you.”
You were almost surprised to hear that, you thought…you had always thought you were Ransom’s second love, honestly.
“What? Were you expecting something else?”
“I don’t know.” You didn’t want to make him think you thought so low of him. It was a pretty vile accusation.
“You do, that’s fine…because I do believe that if we didn’t have money, it would tear us apart.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” you argued.
He arched an eyebrow at you. “You love your diamonds and this house. And I like spoiling the hell out of you… I know those are simple things, but to have to work for things? We couldn’t make it.”
“Well, he obviously wasn’t that scared, or he wouldn’t have cheated. That was my point. You’re acting like money is the most important thing, if it was, he wouldn’t have risked it.”
“True. I don’t know if I would be able to deal with it.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck and laid your cheek against his. “Ransom, baby, you’re jealous of inanimate objects and you once fucked me every day for a week and didn’t let me come because you thought I was talking to my ex.”
“It depends how it started, that’s all I’m saying. People aren’t perfect, you know.”
“I am,” you declared.
He scoffed. “You let me fuck you while you were dating that ex.”
“You coerced me,” you argued. “I was innocently in my own room and you just showed up—”
“So, you’re saying I seduced you?”
You rolled your eyes. “Can we go to bed? I don’t think there are going to be any fistfights tonight.”
“I’m sorry, baby, I know you were looking forward to that.”
“A bit,” you admitted.
“I’ll tell you about the time my mom tackled Joni at my high school graduation.”
You gasped. “I love when you tell me stories.”
Ultimately, things had gone back to normal with you and Ransom. He was sleeping with you more nights than not, he was in his office much less, things seemed to be in a much better place.
June: the affair,
Until June rolled around.
Then all his office shit started up again, the late nights, the insane number of hours. You tried to be understanding, but then he was abandoning you at family dinners and there was the time some moron rear-ended you and you had to call Walt because Joni and Meg weren’t picking up their phones because it was five in the morning, and Ransom wasn’t either because Ransom wasn’t a reliable boyfriend.
He had been apologetic, and you were just relieved that it had been an overall easy situation, so you didn’t hold it against him. Not until you had to borrow his phone to call yours because you had once again misplaced it. You were, once upon a time, a very organized, together person. Then the Thrombeys moved into your home.
You saw dating apps. Dating apps! On his fucking phone. You had no idea how to react, so you just didn’t. You made the mistake of letting everything grow, everything just pile on top of one another until you were at your breaking point.
Linda liked to poke at you and normally, she couldn’t. Because normally, Ransom was around. Because Ransom knew how his mother was and he knew how you were, and he just didn’t want anyone to end up dead.
That changed one morning when you were making pancakes and she came in for her early morning coffee. She asked where Ransom was and that was really the start of it because she did know. She found it hilarious that Ransom had his own office and never let anyone else in. She hated that she wasn’t allowed in but was placated that you weren’t either.
But you told her where he was anyway because you were attempting to be civil. She pointed out how much time he was spending in his office and you pretended it was common, she then asserted that that was how Richard was behaving during his affair.
And honestly, why hadn’t you thought of it before? He had to be having an affair, you always heard him typing in his office. He was clearly on some website, probably some BDSM chatroom, and you were going to fucking kill him.
It all made sense now, last month when he’d asked you if you would forgive cheating. That was just Ransom being Ransom, he was trying to guess your reaction if you ever found out. Well, you hadn’t been exaggerating, you would kill him.
You stormed up to the office and started pounding on the door. The rest of the family was going to hear you, but they were smart enough to know they better just mind their own business in their rooms.
“Ransom!” you yelled after minutes of no answer. Again, you were met with silence and that was when your irritation became fury. “Ransom, I will kick this fucking door down! You know these doors are old and weak and I can do it!”
Long story short, the doors were stronger than you thought, and you could not do it. The low point of your life was probably having to crawl to Meg’s room and ask her to call their super-expensive home doctor because you had done something terrible to your foot.
Ransom showed up three hours later after you had been all wrapped up and the family was fawning over you. You were being forced to sit on the couch and they would not stop asking you if they could get things for you. You were already wearing three different crystals, Walt had made you hot chocolate, and Jacob was checking his horror movie collection for your favorites.
“What the hell happened?” Ransom demanded.
You glared at him. “Where were you?”
“I was out for a walk.”
“And you didn’t take your phone?” Richard pressed. “We were calling you non-stop.”
“I left it up in my office,” he informed, moving to your side. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“She tried to kick down your office door,” Linda answered.
Ransom gave you an incredulous look. “I’m sorry?”
“You should be,” you retorted. You never argued in front of the family because you and Ransom were a team. Yes, you fought, but you never wanted to give the family insight on the cracks in your relationship because you knew they would exploit them.
“Enough,” Meg cut in. “No arguing, Dr. Fields told her to take it easy.”
“You had to call the doctor?” he questioned. “What did you do?”
“Fracture,” Linda informed, “Not that big of a deal. Please, continue arguing.”
Everyone else glared at her while you and Ransom glared at one another. It was then that Jacob reappeared with one of the Saw movies. Typically.
August: the book,
You had taken to sleeping in Meg’s room with her because Ransom was a demon, but he wouldn’t try to enter her room. Ever. So, you comfortably stashed yourself away there every night and stayed there most mornings until noon. She didn’t mind. You’d gotten her a tv in there, so you watched Netflix a lot.
You had yet to confront Ransom with your accusations because you were scared. This family was obscene, being part of it was insane, every single person here was terrible in their own right. But you liked talking to Meg, you liked gardening with Joni, you liked reading the newspaper with Walt in the mornings and talking about the crime section. Even Jacob wasn’t the worst company, he liked to watch Dateline with you.
Ransom was convinced that you were just mad at him because you fractured your toes and couldn’t do yoga for a while. You were fine with him believing that because then you would have to have the conversation.
It was an odd situation to be in. You were sure he hadn’t physically done anything, but you weren’t sure if that should make you feel better or worse. He was connecting with someone and after your conversation, it was clear that he also believed you couldn’t cheat on someone you love. Given that he’d never said he loved you, you were rightfully concerned.
Did he ever love you?
Did you just spend almost 7 years with someone who was never going to feel that way about you? Did you throw away all those opportunities with someone else? Did you stupidly choose Ransom over your family?
Did you let this happen?
You had said you couldn’t forgive it, but now you understood why Linda did. If you love someone, you just don’t want to lose them. You hope that they don’t betray you, but what about when they do? It’s not easy to just leave.
You still loved Ransom, you always would. You didn’t want to lose any of the relationships you formed with the family, but it was different with Ransom. You didn’t want to, obviously, but you also couldn’t. You couldn’t imagine a life without him, you couldn’t imagine moving on, you couldn’t imagine being with someone else.
What did that mean?
You weren’t sure about the long-term answer, but short-term, it meant that you were going to pretend. He wasn’t cheating, he didn’t have dating apps on his phone, he didn’t even have an office as far as you were concerned.
Nothing. Everything was perfect.
Until Jacob’s birthday. You weren’t aware of it before, but unsurprisingly, he was a fucking Leo. You made a mental note to investigate the astrology of certain serial killers Jacob reminded you of, but you would do that with Meg later.
You were helping Walt and Joni cook this time. Apparently, they were the only Thrombeys that knew how to cook and were pleased to have another addition to the small team. It wasn’t a particularly difficult meal, lasagna with garlic bread, but it was Jacob’s favorite.
The plans had been made the week prior, Ransom was going to do one thing for you. Just one, you asked for so little. He would pick up the cake at noon and hide it in the second kitchen. Hide because Jacob wasn’t aware this was happening. He didn’t like to be the center of attention and if he knew this was happening before it was actually happening, he would do anything he could to stop it.
But come 2 PM, three hours after the cake was set to be picked up, you received a call from the bakery. You had let them know that your boyfriend was going to pick it up and you left his name with them and everything, all Ransom needed to do was show up.
The woman on the phone informed you that that didn’t happen, and they were about to close because of pandemic hours. You promised you would be in before she needed to shut the doors and since you were comfortable with your window of time, this was done. Over. First, you were going to yell at Ransom.
You quietly made your way to his office and listened with your ear pressed to the door. You didn’t make a sound until you heard him typing, then you started banging on the door with both hands.
It was seconds later that he answered the door, a confused look on his face over your apparent urgency. He looked like he’d pulled an all-nighter and smelled like a lot of alcohol. “What?”
“What the fuck, Ransom?”
“What? What do you need?”
You tried to open the door, but he held it in place.
“What the hell are you doing?”
You were getting into that office because you were going to find out what he was doing, he was not going to continue to lie to you. You kicked his shin and when his leg buckled, you shoved your way in.
“Hey!” He hurriedly shut the door behind you. He did not want anyone else getting in.
It looked like a normal office. There was a full bookshelf of titles that you couldn’t read because your anger was blurring your vision, there was a desk, a laptop, chairs, a bar cart, not a thing out of the ordinary. What the fuck was he doing in here all day?
There was only one logical answer. You finally turned to him, hands on your hips. “Who is she, Ransom?”
“What?”
“I know you’ve been cheating on me and I’m not going to play this game with you! I just want to know who the fuck she is!”
“Are you out of your mind?!”
“Yes, I’m out of my fucking mind! I’ve been living with your psychotic family since March, dealing with their shit on top of yours, and you are now cheating on me! Please explain to me how anyone else wouldn’t also be out of their mind!”
“I’m not cheating on you!”
“Really?! Then what the fuck are you always doing up here?”
He paused at that.
The camel’s back broke. This was officially over. You turned around and rushed to his computer. He only took a second before he realized what you were doing and followed you there.
“I swear to everything above, if you are in some pathetic chatroom—”
He leaned over you just as you reached for the laptop and slammed it shut. “I’m not cheating on you!”
“Then let me see your fucking laptop!” You didn’t care that he had his hands planted on it, you still grabbed the opposite ends and tried to pull it out from under him. It wasn’t a logical plan since he was much stronger than you, but you weren’t necessarily operating on logic.
“You are crazy,” he asserted.
You moved your hands to the top edge of the laptop and threw your entire body back into Ransom. More than anything, it probably shocked him into moving back. Had you known that it was going to work, you probably would have been better about keeping your footing. Since that wasn’t the case, you both ended up on the floor and for a split second, the laptop was only in your hands.
You dove forward, just inches from the door.
Ransom rushed after you, grabbing your leg to pull you back down.
You knew he was going to get you under him, you wrapped your arms tight around the laptop and started screaming. Joni or Richard might feel inclined to call the police if they thought the two of you were honestly fighting.
Ransom slammed his hand down on your mouth as he crawled over you, knees pressed to your hips to keep you pinned there. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”
You didn’t say a word and you didn’t let your hold on the laptop waver for even a second.
“If I move my hand, you better not scream again,” he warned.
Obviously, you were going to. As soon you could, you yelled, “Call the police, he’s going to kill—!”
Ransom covered your mouth again, eyes wide at you. “You have lost it!”
It was then that you realized you needed to do something. He had the upper hand, and he was going to get the laptop away from you if you did nothing. You started swiping at him with both elbows and knees, never catching anything, but making him nervous enough to back off a little.
Fuck it, he was done trying to be reasonable with you. He moved his hand again, but only to start fighting with you over the laptop again.
“Let it go!” you shrieked.
“You let it go!” he countered. “It’s mine!”
“Not anymore, cheater!”
“I’m not fucking cheating on you!”
“If you have some online BDSM girlfriend, I’m going to fucking kill you!”
“What? What the hell goes through your mind!?”
“You’re constantly in here and you won’t let me in, and you never tell me what you’re doing, you never tell anyone else either—”
“Because I hate my family,” he reminded.
“And clearly, you hate me!”
“I don’t hate you, you’re being childish.”
“Tell me her name, Ransom, or so help me—”
“I’m not cheating!”
“I saw the dating apps on your god damn phone!”
“I am not cheating!”
“Then what are you doing?!”
“I’m writing a book!” he hissed.
You froze. He was what?
He kept his voice quiet, “That’s where I was a couple months ago, the meeting that I told you was none of your business. I only had a few chapters, but I got a deal out of it—”
“Get off me.”
He blinked in surprise and then hurried to do so, helping you up, no longer interested in stealing away the laptop.
You held onto it because you weren’t yet sure if you were going to use it to cause severe bodily harm to him. He was writing a book and didn’t tell you? You didn’t know he was interested in writing at all. You didn’t know he could sit down and write more than one entire sentence. He was always moving around, throwing himself into mindless activities.
A book?
You were hurt. Getting a book deal was major and he didn’t tell you he was trying for it, but then he didn’t even tell you that he’d gotten it. He had this huge thing in his life that he kept separate from you and that hurt your feelings.
“That’s was the apps were,” he explained. “I was doing research. Honestly, I’ll let you see the profiles, they’re not even pictures of me. I haven’t spoken to anyone either, it’s just very basic—”
You held the laptop out to him.
He slowly took it back from you, preparing for any other extreme reaction you might have. What he wasn’t expecting was complete silence, he figured you must have been confused by this. It was rather sudden, even for him. “You going to say something?”
You debated for a long while. You wanted to ask why he was pushing you away. You wanted to ask if it was because he didn’t think you were supportive, if he just didn’t want you to know, then you wanted to know why that was. What had you ever done that made him think he couldn’t tell you about this?
“I have to go get Jacob’s cake.”
“Shit!” He ran his hand down his face. “I completely forgot—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Then you were rushing out, ignoring the curious looks from the family on the way.
October: Ransom’s birthday,
It had been seven weeks since you found out about the book and seven weeks since you last had an actual conversation with Ransom. That was your doing purely, and he made the attempts, but you ignored them.
Linda was thrilled. This was different than when you and Ransom were fighting, because fighting indicated that you had the desire to win, he had the desire to win, but then that meant a resolution would follow. If you were ignoring him, what did you want? She hoped it was the end of the road for the two of you.
You weren’t sure. About anything. But you just had to go day by day and listen to yourself. Up to now, you weren’t sure what you wanted to do. As time went on and you were left to wallow in your hurt feelings, you were wondering if maybe this was the end.
Seven years and he didn’t tell you he was writing a book? That was insane, that was inexcusable. You didn’t get to have any part of your life not completely exposed to Ransom and you were okay with that. Obviously, he didn’t feel the same.
Seven years, a nearly dead modeling career, no skills, no aim in life. You had no idea how you would start all over. You had no idea how you would live your life without being Ransom’s girlfriend. It was practically a title, like the queen, and you loved it. You loved him.
But he didn’t tell you about the book! How could you get over that? Well, you could talk to him, but you were not going to do that. You just weren’t ready because you would want to know why and all the answers that were playing out in your mind were not going to make you feel better.
It didn’t matter, or more correctly, it couldn’t matter. Ransom’s birthday was coming up and Linda was trying to fight you on everything.
It was October, the worst of the pandemic was over, wasn’t it? No, you didn’t think so and anyone with two solid IQ points wouldn’t either. She wanted some family over, some of his friends—Megan, you had heard her mention to Richard. You didn’t want a single person in your house, no one outside of the family.
She suggested going to a restaurant then, but you knew Ransom hated when they threw him parties like that.
She wanted him to have a red velvet cake and you knew that Ransom hated red velvet. He preferred lemon, but he told you that you were never allowed to get him a lemon cake because he would eat it all. He was fine with chocolate, didn’t hate it, didn’t love it.
If you weren’t going out, then she wanted catering from his favorite restaurant, and a minimum of 30 people over, the house was big enough for it. It wasn’t even his favorite restaurant, the one she wouldn’t stop talking about, you knew for a fact Ransom did not like 30 people, and the house was not big enough for it.
On top of all of that, she kept asking you what you were going to get him. She just didn’t want to get the same thing. Why would that happen? Why would she get him the same thing as you? You had no idea, but she insisted on knowing. Problem was, you didn’t have an answer to give her. You had no idea what you were going to get Ransom.
Three days before his birthday, Ransom found you on the floor of the kitchen with an icepack pressed to your forehead. It was three in the morning, you had most of the lights off, only your phone and laptop providing light. Even in the dim kitchen, he could tell that you had been crying, eyes puffy and red, tear tracks down your cheeks.
He had been in his office, more writing. He’d only come down for a glass of water, sure that no one else would be awake at such an odd hour. This was the first time in a long time that he had seen you alone, and this naked. Usually, you were surrounded by the family, Joni being the greatest culprit. And since you still weren’t sleeping in the bedroom, he hadn’t seen you in your tiny shorts and bralettes.
He sat down at your side, setting his hand on your thigh. “Hey, is everything okay?”
You tossed the icepack onto the floor. “I never got stress headaches before your family moved in.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.”
It was silent for several moments after that, you were thinking about how you wanted to approach this topic. It was clear now, in your mind, why he hadn’t told you about the book. “I never listen to you.”
He turned to you, eyebrows pulled together. “What?”
You were already crying again, tears rolling down your face. You had felt terrible these past few weeks and you were finally beginning to understand why. “I don’t listen, I’m a terrible listener.”
“No,” he protested. “You’re not a terrible listener—”
“I have no idea what to get you for your birthday. I never know, I never get you a good present.”
“Yes, you do,” he argued. “And you don’t need to get me anything—”
“Of course, I do!” you blurted out. Was he insane? This was his birthday, you couldn’t not get him something for his birthday. “This is why you didn’t tell me about the book, right?”
His eyebrows shot up. “What?”
“Because I don’t listen,” you explained. “Why would you tell me about it if I wasn’t even going to listen, right?”
“Baby,” he sighed, “That’s not why I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t trying to keep it from you, honestly—”
“You didn’t tell me you were writing, you didn’t tell me you were trying to get published, and then you didn’t tell me about the book deal.”
“I know…I was going to.”
“But?” you prompted. “How could you not tell me about any of it?”
“I was worried.”
“Why?”
“Because of fucking Harlan. He’s the world’s best mystery author, for whatever fucking reason. I was worried that you wouldn’t think I should do this. I was worried about how it would look. I don’t want to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps like the rest of my pathetic family.”
“So, were you just never going to say anything about it?”
“Well…maybe. There’s something else… I wasn’t sure I was going to use my name, so it was completely possible that I could keep you from ever finding out about them. And if you ever got suspicious, maybe publish a few of the others under my real name.”
“Others? What are you talking about?”
“So…my book deal is for, at the very least, three books. In a series. If they do well, I can do others, with the possibility of keeping this series going…whenever I feel inspired to do so.”
“Okay…what’s the series about?”
“A woman.”
You narrowed your eyes.
“A very mean woman,” he clarified. “She’s a black widow, you know, marries rich men, murders them, takes the money…and I’ve sort of been using your name.”
Your eyebrows slowly rose. “You’ve been writing about me?”
“No,” he immediately protested, then sighed. “Okay, a little, but she’s beautiful. I mention that a lot, I promise.”
Yes, you were relieved. But was he completely off the hook? You slapped his shoulder. “Are you serious?”
“Hey,” he held his hand to the skin that you had just smacked. “Ow, maybe don’t hit me just days away from my birthday if you didn’t get me anything.”
“God, Ransom, I was really hurt.”
“I’m sorry about that. Really, I know I rarely ever apologize and sometimes, I don’t mean it, but I mean it now.”
“Well, can I read some of it?”
He smirked. “I don’t know, baby girl, you haven’t been behaving lately. You tried to break into my office, hurt yourself, and then did break into my office to steal my laptop. You thought I was cheating on you.”
“I saw dating apps, Ransom.”
“After we talked about my parents—”
“You lock yourself in your office for, like, 20 hours at a time—”
“And some BDSM chatroom? Because you’re normal in bed?”
You rolled your eyes. “Look, I’m sorry for accusing you of cheating, but you should have told me about the book. Which you apologized for, so it just cancels out. Let’s do what we usually do and just pretend it never happened.”
“You told Joni to call the cops,” he reminded.
You shrugged. “I miss Wagner, he probably would have been over here immediately.”
He snorted. “Okay, we both made mistakes, but you’re right.”
With his agreement to move on, you climbed onto his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Please?”
“I’m not completely convinced yet,” he teased.
Rolling your eyes, you kissed him. “Now?”
“You’re getting closer.”
You scoffed and kissed him again, reaching into his sweatpants to pull out his cock. It didn’t take long to get him hard and as soon as you did, you used your other hand to pull your shorts aside. You broke away from the kiss to watch his face as you slowly slid down his length.
His hands gripped your hips and he nodded. “Yeah, you can have whatever you want.”
You smiled. “Perfect, let’s get it now.”
He snorted. “Wow, now you’re a fucking comedian?”
“Well, you’re an author,” you retorted.
He nodded once. “You have a point. I vaguely remember what I wrote, want me to tell you?”
You nodded. You wanted to hear it in his voice, you were going to demand that he read it to you anyway.
“Her first husband was a writer,” he informed.
You lifted your eyebrows. Was that supposed to be clever?
“He often wrote poetry about how devastatingly beautiful he found her.”
You rolled your eyes a little, turning down to stare at his chest. He was wearing a shirt, but you could still see the muscles through the white material. “How did she kill him?”
“Scared him to death, she is very scary.”
You bit your cheek to prevent a smile.
“His fault, though. He was never healthy, did a few drugs he shouldn’t have. Drank too much, never ate right. He had a weak heart anyway.”
You hummed.
He wrapped his arm around your back and rolled you over onto the floor underneath him. He pulled your thighs apart before placing both hands on the floor for balance. Slowly, he pulled out and drove back in hard.
You gasped his name, arms winding tightly around his torso.
“He loves her skin,” he asserted.
You nodded encouragingly, you wanted him to tell you everything. “Mhm.”
“Loves how soft she is, especially her thighs, and he loves how she bruises.” He was steadily rocking his hips, speaking just loud enough that you could hear him over the wet noises of his cock sliding in and out of your body, but quiet enough that you were sure no one else would hear.
You reminded yourself you were downstairs, on the kitchen floor, it was important to remain quiet. Ransom’s family had caught you in a lot of low moments over the years, but this would take the cake. You turned your head, burying your face in the bend of his neck.
“He loves her neck, how perfectly it fits in his hands. He loves her lips, how they look wrapped around him, or when she’s smiling—”
“You wrote that?” you breathed.
“This isn’t some school-book-report shit like what Harlan was publishing.”
“Those weren’t children’s books,” you felt inclined to point out.
“Well, mine have sex.”
You snorted. “You’re going to write about other men fucking me?”
“A woman here and there,” he explained. “That’s why they have to die such horrible deaths.”
You laughed briefly, pressing your mouth to his shoulder when you worried you would moan.
“He loves her legs, how tightly they wrap around him.” As he spoke, he lifted your legs one at a time, pressing them to the sides of his body as a cue to hook your ankles together. “He loves her arms, how easily he can pin them above her head.” Again, he did just that and you were forced to lay flat on the floor, clamping your mouth shut to stifle the noises spilling out.
After managing to get both wrists in one hand, he placed his opposite forearm off to your side and set all his weight there. You could feel it in the way he got heavier against your hips, trapping you between him and the floor, controlling every aspect of how he was going to make you come.
He stared down at your face for a moment, watching you struggle to keep your composure as he was fucking into you harder now. He leaned down and your eyes fell shut, he kissed over both eyelids and said, “He loves her eyes, even when she’s looking up at him, demanding something, a new diamond necklace, a car, but won’t actually say the words because she’s so fucking spoiled.”
You smirked and he felt it, and his hips snapped up harshly to get it to stop. It only worked for a moment. You were smug, Ransom was pouring his heart out to you and confessed that he liked that you were spoiled? You would never let him live this down.
“He loves her cheeks,” he started kissing across your face and you couldn’t help but smile, “Especially when she’s doing that.” He stopped to pay special attention to your nose, “And he loves her nose, even though she hates it. And he loves when she pouts,” he lowered his mouth to give you several chaste pecks, until you were pouting because he wouldn’t just kiss you.
With a scoff, he finally let you kiss him back. It didn’t last long before he was on the move again, pressing his lips to your chin and proclaiming the fictional character’s love of that, then your jaw, your clavicle, and once he tore your bralette out of the way, your breasts.
As he continued to move down, he was sliding his cock out by the inch and you were trying to stop him from getting too far, you were desperately pulling at him with your legs, but Ransom was much stronger than you.
“He loves her stomach,” he muttered into your skin as he descended and finally, his cock slipped out. Because of that, he had to let your wrists go but you knew better than to try to move them.
“Ransom, please—”
“And he loves her hips.” As he pulled down your shorts, he kissed the skin he exposed, almost frantically alternating between left and right. Once the shorts were down, he spread your thighs and looked up at you. “And he fucking loves her pussy.”
You let out a strangled, high-pitched sound as he dove down and wrapped his lips around your clit. He stared at you the entire time as he sucked for a few seconds, then flicked his tongue back and forth, only to repeat the pattern until you were crying and squirming, staying in the position he had placed you in.
When he knew you were close, he pulled back. He only set small kisses to your aching center, hands moving up and down your hips, your stomach, your thighs. “He loves how sweet it tastes, he loves how fucking tight it is, how it feels like his cock was made to be inside it—”
“Ransom, please,” you blurted out. Your arms were stinging with the desire to reach down for him, but you knew that would change the path of this entire night. You just needed to be fucked. Simply. Intimately. None of the elaborate shit you both usually tried.
In seconds, he had made his way over you and was inside you again. You wrapped yourself around him, arms and legs, and held onto him tight enough that you were sure he wouldn’t be able to get away again.
“He loves every fucking inch of her,” he stated. “Because she’s his, she belongs to him and she’s never going to belong to anyone else.”
You scoffed. “But she kills him?”
“Well, she’s a complex woman.”
You rolled your eyes. “I’m not complex.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“I just want you and this house, and I want all of this shit to be over so we can get rid of your family.”
He kissed you shortly. “That makes two of us, baby.”
There was a difference between loving something about someone and truly being in love with someone. You’d always loved things about Ransom, but it took you about a solid year to confidently admit that you were in love with him. He could say that he loved everything about you, but that was not him finally saying it.
“Does she love him?” you wondered.
He shrugged a shoulder. “He thinks so.”
“Does he love her?” This wasn’t asking for too much. Ransom could hide behind this fictional creation of his and say yes, and you would never ask again. You just wanted to hear it once, that wasn’t unfair.
He considered his answer for a long time, breaking eye contact to look down at where his fingers were hovering over your shoulder. He began to trace shapes there, still contemplating. “Sometimes…she thinks so.”
“But does he?” you pressed.
Again, more silence. He was trying to gauge what he could get away with. He always knew this was going to wear on you eventually, but he never thought it was going to be during one of the times he was inside you. How could you not feel how he felt about you? “I think—”
“Are you fucking serious!?”
You immediately knew whose voice that was—Linda. Shutting your eyes, you let your head rest back on the floor. The headache you had been crying over earlier was returning.
“RICHARD!” She turned out of the kitchen and began storming back to her room. “Richard, wake up! You need to talk to your son! Is there no place in this house anymore that is sacred?!”
Ransom sighed deeply and you looked up at him. “Well, do you want to make you come first before we go upstairs?”
You shrugged. “Okay. Hurry up, we don’t have to be quiet anymore.”
November: thanksgiving,
Ransom was on his best behavior, you theorized that was because he didn’t want you to again ask him for more of that insane basic human emotion. Whatever, you could not dwell. There were people dying in this world, and you wanted to waste time crying over your boyfriend who gave you everything you wanted, but just wouldn’t say a certain word to you?
Well, the answer was yes, but it was Thanksgiving and the Thrombeys had about a million and one weird-ass family traditions. That meant you were short on time to be pouting.
It was a freezing, perfect day. It had snowed all night and the house looked like something straight out of a Hallmark movie. Yes, this was going to be a complicated day with a lot of personalities that were butting heads because everyone had been together for way too long, but you were feeling festive. You wanted to make the best of the day and you planned to force the rest of the family to follow your lead.
The start of the traditions was donating money. You were the one who brought it up as soon as Richard tried to skip down the list. It always started with donating. Harlan would write checks for half a million dollars and let every member choose where they wanted to donate, the past three years you were included in that. Harlan always liked you, probably more than he liked some of his actual family.
“I’m just not sure,” Donna was saying, “We haven’t made much money this year.”
“Are you kidding?” Meg demanded. “Your husband’s publishing company is still seeing sale increases.”
“Because of the death of the author,” Linda pointed out. “Meaning, we should be a lot more frugal. The money will not be coming in the same way that it was.”
“This is not up for debate,” you snapped. “Everyone pick a god damn charity. Harlan insisted on this every single year, and we are going to continue it. Unless you all would like to provoke his ghost to come murder us. He died in this house after all!”
“It’s money,” Ransom pointed out. “We have more than enough, some people don’t have any.”
Linda rolled her eyes. “My son is just trying to get you to have sex with him.”
You glared.
“Mother,” Ransom sighed. “This isn’t a discussion. Just pick your damn charity.”
“Donna, it’s fine,” Walt promised. “Meg’s right, we’ve had a great year. And Y/N is right, Dad always wanted us to do this. I will start with my usual charity, Homes for Our Troops.”
“Fantastic.” You took the check as soon as he handed it over. “Donna?”
“American Cancer Society, of course.” She held it out for you and then looked to Jacob. “I think this year—”
“I have a charity picked,” Jacob informed.
Everyone fell silent. Likely, everyone’s immediate suspicion was Trump’s request for donations since he was still insisting the election was fraudulent. However, no one said anything because no one wanted to be the first victim of Jacob’s impending murder spree.
“Can’t I pick my own?” he pressed.
“Yes,” you answered. “You can, because everyone can pick their own charity.”
“Yeah,” Walt echoed. “Of course.”
He wrote the name down and slid the check across the table to you.
Ransom’s hand tightened on your thigh, a reminder not to let anyone antagonize you this holiday.
“Canines for Disabled Kids,” you read. “Jacob, that’s really great…I didn’t even know that was a charity.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, well, I like the idea that they can have dogs as friends and don’t have to make human friends. Humans are so stupid.” Then he returned all his attention to his phone.
“And we’re back,” Richard muttered.
Donna’s head snapped in his direction.
“Okay,” you interjected. “Joni?”
She chose a foundation interested in ending childhood obesity, received a snide comment from Meg about how even her acts of kindness were vain, and you intervened before it became bigger than that. Meg chose an organization that works to stop childhood prostitution, Linda went for homeless youth, and Richard selected Make-A-Wish Foundation. Walt felt the need to sarcastically commend him for his originality.
“Enough,” you said before Richard could respond. “My dearest Ransom, what have you chosen?”
He smiled at you. “Animal Legal Defense Fund. Their tagline is: all our clients are innocent.”
You nodded. “They are. All animals are innocent.”
Linda rolled her eyes. “Can we move on?”
“Okay, mine is—”
“I can’t believe you don’t have a problem that she’s basically brainwashing our son,” Linda interrupted, turning to Richard.
“Linda, please,” Richard sighed.
“My charity,” you spoke loudly, gaining their attention once more, “Is Planned Parenthood.”
“Are you out of your mind?” she demanded. “You want to donate your money to abortions?”
You glared. “That’s not all Planned Parenthood does, but…yes, I do. Babies suck, if a woman doesn’t want to have it, she doesn’t have to.”
Joni nodded. “I agree, completely. I’ve been learning in my group about how we are only placed on this earth to offer up our vibrations to one another. Our obligations do not exceed that. We don’t have to be anything! Not a mother, not a wife—”
“Oh, shut up!” Linda barked.
“Mother, calm down,” Ransom dismissed. “I don’t believe for a second any of you have not either had an abortion or been an accessory to one in the past.”
“I would never!” she gasped, pointing a finger at him. “And you better not ever let her!”
“Yeah, don’t worry about that happening. I’ve been thinking about eliminating that possibility, surgically—”
Linda’s mouth dropped.
This was, of course, untrue. Ransom would, first, never sacrifice any part of himself for that reason. Second, the matter had not been discussed yet. You guys weren’t even thinking about marriage, so of course, children weren’t being brought up. But that morning, Ransom woke up in the mood for chaos, and maybe you sort of did, too.
“I wanted a second child,” she told Richard, “You said to stop after Ransom because he was “perfect”.”
“I did say that,” he muttered to himself, a look of pure regret on his face.
You smiled at Ransom. “You are perfect.”
He kissed you, gaining disapproving noises from most of the table.
“I will never be a grandmother!” Linda yelled, burying her hands in her hair and resting her shoulders on the table.
You glanced at Ransom.
He nodded toward the kitchen. “Now that that’s done, let’s start cooking.”
Joni and Meg were currently searching the entire house for the Christmas decorations. They always ended up getting put in the strangest places and since you and Ransom had moved in and not known where they were, you moved basically everything. It was possible that you were going to have to make do with the decorations you and Ransom had been using for the past five years at his house.
You had, however, purchased a lot of lights because the Thrombeys loved their blue lights. Tacky, you wanted the yellow lights and made sure to buy enough that even a single blue light needed to be on that house. Ransom was excitedly awaiting his mother’s reaction to that.
Every year, Richard and Walt would put lights on the house while the dinner was cooking. Ransom should have helped but no one actually thought Ransom would lift a finger, so no one wasted their breath. He was only helping you cook because, as mentioned, he was pretending to be a good boyfriend.
But he was a monster, a true monster that was currently squashing even more of your dreams. “The answer isn’t just no, it’s fuck no.”
You glared. “I wasn’t asking for permission.”
“You asked if it was a good idea.”
“I think it is.”
“Then why did you ask me at all?”
“Because I thought you would be nice for a second, just a second, Ransom. I’m not asking for a lot.”
“We are not getting Jacob a dog.”
“Why not?”
“Because I hate dogs.”
“Well, I hate you,” you hissed.
He rolled his eyes. “Enough of the dramatics. This day is tiring enough already—”
“We’ll get him a small one, it doesn’t need to be those huge horses your mother calls dogs. A chihuahua, maybe. A Pomeranian, a dachshund—”
“Absolutely not, we already have Joni here, I don’t want some yappy animal—”
“Ransom!” you whined. “If we get him a dog, he might not become a serial killer.”
“He already is a serial killer, love, these are just the early years when he’s finding himself. The answer is still no.”
“Ugh, fine, can you just make the pie crusts, please?”
“How many?”
“Three.”
“Three? For what?”
“Pumpkin, apple, pecan, Ransom. The same things your family has served every single year I’ve been here, and presumably, all the ones before that.”
“Ugh.” He stood at the counter reading the recipe, muttering his disapproval, up until he saw the ingredients on the counter. “What is all of this?”
“Um, you know that recipe in your hand? The final product doesn’t just appear.”
“No, what is all of this…gluten-free flour, oat flour? Where’s the normal flour?”
“That is normal flour, Ransom.”
“No,” he argued. “No, it’s not.”
“It’s normal to some people,” you countered. “And this year, it’s normal to us. Joni went out and bought the groceries. If you wanted something, you could have done it yourself.”
“You wouldn’t let me leave the house! You kept saying I was going to get sick and die.”
“You could have ordered them!”
“You can’t be serious. On top of this dreadful year, you’re trying to make us eat healthy food on Thanksgiving?”
“Ransom, make the pie crusts!”
It was silent for several minutes, probably because you were using the mixer to make the pumpkin filling. As soon as it was off, Ransom was acting like you’d asked him to perform surgery.
“What does toss mean?”
“What?”
“It says to toss the ingredients.”
“Um, like, stir, I guess.”
“You guess or you know?”
“Just fucking stir, Ransom. I make pies all the time.”
He huffed. “No, oh, no. No, this is telling me to touch things with my hands, that’s disgusting and I’m not doing that.”
You turned back, eyes wide. “Ransom!”
“I’m not touching butter with my hands!”
“What is wrong with you!? It’s cooking, you have to use your hands to cook!”
“I don’t like touching butter!”
“How would you know? You’ve never cooked a day in your life!”
“I’m not touching it,” he claimed.
You took a slow breath in and released it while counting to ten. “Then switch with me and make the apple pie filling.”
“Great.” He walked to your counter as you walked to his. “What is this? What’s in this bowl?”
“The pumpkin pie filling. Cover it and put it in the refrigerator. That’s where the apples are.”
His next question came after he pulled out the bag of apples. “These?”
You turned back, blinking. “Yes, Ransom, those are apples.”
“I have to cut them?”
“And peel them.”
“That’s going to take forever.”
“Ransom, I’m about to smack you.”
“This is a lot!” he pointed out. “Why are we the only people cooking?”
“We’re not, not anymore,” you decided. “Get out, you can go help your father and Walt with the Christmas lights.”
“And you’re going to cook alone?”
“I basically already am.” You turned around to walk to the sink to wash your hands. Unlike Ransom, you weren’t making one pie crust at a time, and you would only need to do this once. When you turned around, you knew Ransom was behind you, but you had no idea what he was doing.
You only saw how close he was when you felt something wet and cold against the side of your face. Whatever it was, he dragged it all the way to the opposite cheek. You smelled and tasted the frosting that you had made for the sugar cookies.
He peeled the frosted star-shaped cookie off your skin and ate one of the corners. “Your blood-sugar seemed low, I thought I’d help.”
You tore the cookie out of his hand and shoved it directly in his face.
He scattered back, eyes wide in shock—as if he expected anything less? “What is wrong with you?!”
You grabbed the retractable faucet from the sink and turned the water on.
“Do not!”
It was a warning you ignored. Within seconds, he was slipping along the kitchen floor, rushing back to you to get the faucet out of your hands. As soon as he had it, he turned it on you, and you screamed like a cat about to be thrown in a bathtub.
“Stop it!” you ordered. “You are ruining Thanksgiving!”
“You’re ruining it!”
You elbowed him hard enough that he dropped the faucet, then kicked your heels off to run to the counter with the cookies and frosting.
“Don’t you dare!” He rushed after you and wrestled the cookie out of your hand, ultimately crushing it into crumbs that scattered all over the counter and the floor.
You shoved your opposite hand into one of the bowls of frosting, whipping around to place your hand on his face.
“What the fuck?!” But he leaned down, clearly uninterested in an answer, and pressed his face into your hair.
“My hair?!” you shrieked. “I’m going to kill you!”
There were several sets of steps that you both heard, but neither of you wanted to let the other get the upper hand. When the family finally found you, you had slipped, ended up on your ass, and Ransom was holding you down, claiming that you caused too many problems when you were on your feet.
“What the hell is going on?!” Joni questioned.
“Ransom, get off of her!” Meg pushed her way between the two of you, pulling you onto your feet. “Oh, my god, what is going on? Are you okay?”
Well, you were both soaking wet, layered in frosting, furiously trying to get another cookie to throw at the other. Were you okay? Only physically. Mentally, you weren’t sure either one of you was ever on solid ground there.
“Enough!” Linda yelled. “What is this insanity!? We need to be eating in less than an hour and as per usual, you two can’t go five minutes without fighting! That’s it, everyone get out of this kitchen! This is why I cook, this is why I do everything! I’m the only one that can!”
She turned away to open the door to usher everyone out and you took your chance to get some type of retaliation that you had been longing for since before the damn stay-at-home order.
You were able to reach for a cookie before either Meg or Ransom could stop you, and no one had ever dreamed your target would be Linda, so for a detrimental moment, their reactions were nonexistent. Essentially, everyone could only stare in pure horror as they realized the cookie was darting straight for the back of Linda’s head. Which, in your defense, wasn’t your exact intention. You thought her back, not her head…but well, there was a reason you weren’t a professional athlete.
Gasps filled the room as soon as the cookie contacted Linda’s head, then again when it fell to the floor. Linda slowly turned, eyes wide, jaw set, shoulders tense—that must be where Ransom got it.
“This is my house,” you reminded. “You do not get to order me out of my kitchen!”
She looked at Ransom, silently urging him to make his alliance known right then. Before he had to say anything, yelling sounded from outside the house. Walt and Richard had yet to finish the one job they had, everyone figured that was the cause of the disturbance.
Quickly, you all made your way out to the front of the house. Richard had his leg wrapped up in a mess of lights and was hanging from the edge of the house. The same vines of lights were also wound around Walt, who was hanging onto the house for dear life.
“Oh, my god!” Donna yelled. “Oh, my god!”
“Are you serious?” Linda demanded. “There is a pandemic! You guys seriously want to end up in the god damn hospital during a pandemic?”
Joni sighed in utter frustration. “Walt, just hang on. We’ll get Richard down—”
“Oh, my god!” Donna continued, despite the lack of panic coming from literally every other single person present. Even Walt seemed less alarmed than her. She started running to Richard and on any other day, it would have been an effortless plan of action. On this day, that Massachusetts had just seen a hell of a lot of snow, when the pavement was dangerously icy, she fell.
Meg screamed. “Oh, my god, I’m calling Dr. Fields!”
“He’s a doctor!” Joni pointed out. “A physical doctor—he won’t know how to deal with this sheer stupidity unless someone broke a bone!”
Donna, now over her initial shock, was attempting to get up.
“Donna, I think you’re hurt,” Meg said. “Just stay—”
Jacob was cautiously moving closer to her, directing her to stay put when Walt had finally lost his battle with the house. His hands slipped off and he went sliding down the edge of the roof. Richard hit the floor first, eliciting more screams from Meg and Donna, and then Walt followed onto several snow-covered bushes, and everyone lost their minds.
“I’m calling Dr. Fields! I am fucking calling Dr. Fields right now!” Meg repeated, shaking so much she could hardly get the phone out of her pocket, let alone find which one she had placed it in.
Joni began making her way through the snow to check if Richard was okay.”
“Oh, my god!” Donna was still repeating.
“Mom, just stay down,” Jacob said.
“Jesus,” Ransom snapped. “How hard is it to put these god damn lights on this god damn house?” He was following Joni, confident in the theory that his father was simply being dramatic. Walt, on the other hand, might have needed medical attention.
Meg watched her feet as she was walking back inside. “Dr. Fields, we have a serious emergency right now. I think everyone’s dying!”
Ransom and Joni were helping Richard sit up when he turned back to you. “Hey, get inside, you’re wet and going to get sick.”
He had a point, so without argument, you turned to do so. You felt the boniest of hands on your shoulders before you were shoved down face-first into the snow.
That was when Joni started screaming. “Oh, my god, call the police! She’s going to kill her. Meg, call the police!”
Meg ran out of the house and saw what was happening and once again, started to panic. “Dr. Fields, you need to get here immediately!”
Before you even fully processed what had happened, Linda was on top of you turning you onto your back.
“You stole my house!” she screeched.
“Linda!” Richard scolded.
You saw her hands go for your throat—later, everyone would claim she was probably doing something else, she obviously wasn’t going to choke you. You did the only thing you could think to do, you grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it in her face.
She toppled over and you made your way on top of her. You weren’t going to hit your boyfriend’s mother, but you did proceed to throw snow in her face until Ransom had gotten you off her.
The grand total of injuries was seven. Yet, the total of injuries that had occurred directly in the incident was five. Donna had a bruised tailbone, Richard had a broken leg, Walt had a sprained wrist, your knee was cut up fairly terribly since you fell on it when Linda pushed you, and Linda had stitches on her cheek because the first time you threw snow at her, there was a huge block of ice that you weren’t aware of. After Richard pointed out that you hadn’t started the altercation, she punched him, and he now had a swollen eye. After Ransom had gotten you inside, Meg, in her state of panic, hadn’t seen the door was shut and walked straight into it, and her nose was broken.
You weren’t sure how this family had managed more disaster with nearly 300 fewer people, but there you were. Ransom had forced you into the shower to get all the frosting out of your hair and to hopefully prevent the cold he suspected you were going to catch given the tiny outfit you were parading around in outside.
He lured you out of the shower with a mug of hot chocolate. Every space heater in the house was gathered in your bedroom and as soon as you were in his reach, Ransom wrapped you up in at least three heavy blankets.
When he sat you down on the bed, he pulled your leg out so he could tend to your knee. You felt like a child with him sat next to you with a first aid kit, too-delicately prodding at your irritated, aching skin. He was babying you.
You didn’t feel guilty for what you had done to Linda, but you did hate that Ransom was in the middle. “I’m s—”
He held his hand up to you. “Don’t.”
“But—”
He turned up to you. “Babe, she attacked you.”
“I…threw a cookie at her.”
He snorted. “Yeah, that was a little crazy.”
“I am sorry,” you huffed. “We said we weren’t going to let them bother us today.”
“You finally told her this was your house. I’ve wanted that since we first moved in. I know what we said, but all in all, I think we gained more than we lost.”
“What did we gain, Ransom?”
“Well, she knows you’re scrappy so she might think twice before pushing you again.”
You rolled your eyes. “Anything else?”
“Everyone is going to be preoccupied taking care of each other, Joni doting on Meg, my mom basically doing everything for my dad, Walt and Donna being overly protective of one another…”
“So, we can have sex in the kitchen and there’s a higher chance we won’t get caught?”
“That was exactly what I was thinking.”
You shrugged. “If we got Jacob a dog—”
“You know what?” he cut in. “Get out of these blankets, I haven’t spanked you in a long time even though you’ve deserved it about five times over by now.”
He made a show of attempting to get you out of the blankets even though you both knew he wouldn’t do it. You laughed the entire time until Ransom laid himself out on top of you, uncaring about how heavy he was.
“Is everyone okay?”
“They’ll live.”
“Well, I know Meg will—she’s going to get a nose job.”
He snorted, rolling his eyes. “You are just going to have to live vicariously through her.”
“We kinda ruined Thanksgiving dinner.”
“I did not,” he argued. “The turkey is almost done, the pies are in the other oven, also almost done—”
“All three?”
He nodded. “Yep. Jacob, believe it or not, was happy to peel and cut the apples.”
You rolled your eyes. “I swear, Ransom.”
“As soon as everyone stops acting like they’re dying, we’ll be able to sit down…well, Donna might not be able to sit down.”
You laughed. “Your family is insane.”
“And clearly, you fit right in.”
“Clearly,” you muttered. Unfortunately.
Christmas Eve:
Sometimes, you wished that you had listened to him when he said this wasn’t happening. Because then you wouldn’t have needed to worry about so many god damn people! It would just be you and Ransom in absolute seclusion, but no. No, you would never have it so easy during this fucking holiday.
How difficult was it to pick up the presents that you had ordered? You picked them out, you organized it all, you had only asked Ransom to drive to a single location and obtain them for you. Why hadn’t he? Because he was sleeping at 2 in the afternoon.
What did you have for Jacob? Not a damn thing. You had no presents for the teenage delinquent you were terrified of. You weren’t family, he was going to store you away in the basement and torture you until he got bored. Ransom probably wouldn’t even realize you had been missing until Jacob placed your body parts all over the house. And three of Meg’s presents were also missing, you knew Linda was going to make another comment.
You would hit her with more ice. After you strangled her son, of course, who was currently hot helping in any way at all.
“Ransom, put your fucking drink down and hand me the tape!”
“Are your fucking hands broken?!”
“I’m holding the box!”
He slammed his drink down on the bedside table and angrily stormed his way to where you were surrounded by boxes, wrapping paper, and a million other things he wasn’t even aware you’d spent money on. This was too much for his family and he was just waiting for you to realize that they were nowhere near worth the effort you constantly put in.
Ransom picked up the tape, tore a piece off, and placed it between where your fingers were resting on the box.
“Thank you so much,” you responded, pure sarcasm.
And god damn, he had had enough of your fucking tone. “You are driving me insane!”
“I’m driving you insane?! Your family has been ruing my whole fucking life since March!”
“I didn’t want them here!”
“Well, I’m a human with actual empathy for others, so I logically knew that that was not an option!”
“You were going to leave my mother out of your precious sanctuary!”
“Because she’s abusive!” You shoved your hands into your hair and shook your head. “I’m done, absolutely done. I can’t have this conversation with you again. Your mother sucks, why is this news to you? I’m so sorry for trying to hold her accountable for her actions. Oh, but of course, every time someone tries to make any of you face the consequences for your actions, you act like it’s a hate crime!”
He glared. “I hate you.”
“I hate you!” you seethed.
“I can’t fucking believe I actually want to do this!” he turned away, scrubbing one of his hands down his face. “You make me so fucking crazy.”
“Do what?” you demanded. “What the hell are you talking about now? What god-awful thing have you decided to do?”
He made his way to the bed, tearing open the drawer to the bedside table on his side. He was muttering quickly under his breath and even if his speech hadn’t been so hurried, it was quiet enough that you had no chance of hearing anything.
It was silent for several moments before he turned back to you and threw something on the bed. He gestured to it then crossed his arms over his chest.
Since your bed was a mess of dark blankets, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to be seeing. You stood, carefully stepping your way out of the present-wrapping station you had created and neared the bed. You stopped dead in your tracks when you saw a tiny black box against the mattress.
You looked back at him, eyes wide, pleading. No…no, that was not happening. He wasn’t actually…
“Marry me.”
“What?!”
He actually seemed surprised by your reaction. He leaned over, snatched the box off the bed, and stomped back to you. “Marry me.”
“You’ve lost it,” you accused. “You’re actually literally insane. You need to be committed!”
“Yes, it’s insane that I want to marry you but for some fucking reason, I do!”
“Oh, my god, Ransom!” You slapped the box out of his hands and that was just too much for him. “I’m not fucking marrying you, you’ve never even told me you love me!”
He hurriedly picked up the box, tossed it back onto the bed, and then grabbed you by your arms. “You’re seriously fucking bringing that up now?”
“What does that even mean?! Yes, I’m bringing it up now. You marry someone when you’re in love with them and since you haven’t said it after seven years, I understandably doubt your feelings for me.”
“You are such a fucking brat.”
“You’re a brat!” you yelled, more exasperated than you’d ever felt. “You’re such a fucking entitled brat! There’s no other way to describe you. You just think I’m going to say yes and give you everything you want when you can’t even say you love me!”
“This is absolutely fucking ridiculous.”
“Just fucking say it, Ransom! If you love me, just say it!”
“You will not bully me into saying something that I don’t even deem as important.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Love is a word! Okay? It means nothing. My parents fucking say they love each other, then my dad fucked someone else. Neal and Joni said they loved each other every god damn second that they could but guess what. He still died. And don’t even get me started on Walt and Donna, their “love” created the next great serial killer of this wonderful fucking country!”
You were speechless, Ransom never talked to you like this. He never brought up the fucked-up aspects of his family that had consequently fucked him up as well.
He finally let you go when he realized you weren’t going to say anything, turning to walk away. You startled when he banged his hand against the wall. “God damn it!”
“Why do you make me say it to you then?” you demanded.
“I don’t know!” he admitted.
Again, you were both silent. You were thinking of the best way to respond, and you certainly couldn’t come up with that, but you knew what you wanted to say. “I’m not marrying you.”
He laughed.
It was a terrifying sound that gave you chills. He was going to kill you, you were 90% sure. As soon as he started walking toward you, you turned away to run to the bathroom, but Ransom had always known that would be your plan.
He effortlessly caught you and dragged you back to the bed. He shoved you down, pinned your arms to the mattress to stop you from hitting him, and slid his hips between your legs to make it impossible to kick him. “You’re going to marry me.”
“You’re going to force me to marry you?”
“I’ll drag you to the fucking courthouse if I have to.”
“The courthouse?!”
“I want to give you a wedding, the obscenely priced, overly dramatic show that I know you want. But if you won’t say yes, you leave me no other option.”
You rolled your eyes. “Then I guess that’s what you’ll have to do because my answer is no.”
Luckily for him, your outfit was not overly complex. He knew you weren’t wearing anything under your skirt because his hand was between your legs for most of dinner that night. You didn’t let him make you come because you were throwing a temper tantrum over the situation with the presents, but he was evidently not deterred.
After he moved your wrists together and kept you held there, he used his free hand to get his pants out of the way. In seconds, he was fully inside you and was offering you no time to adjust.
You realized why when you felt his hands moving over your head. Turning up that way, you saw him fumbling with the box. He was going to put the ring on your finger, and you had the sinking suspicion you might not be able to part with it if you saw it. But no, this was not happening.
You managed to get one of your hands free and yanked on his hair.
He kissed you because he had nothing left to do but bite your lip. Hard. He didn’t even falter when you cried out.
He was the idiot who let you keep your shoes on and you were limited on where you could get your heel. You did yoga, but you weren’t some contortionist. You had one option, and that was stabbing your heel into the side of his ass, and it was completely his own fault.
Finally, he pulled away and was forced to let you on top, which was the only advantage you needed. You smacked the box off the bed. However, now that he wasn’t overly concerned with holding you to the bed, he could pull your hair until you relented and fell back onto the bed.
He rolled over several times until you were both on the very edge, managing to kick your heels off in the process. He never stopped driving his hips into you, knowing that the only advantage he had was how weak you always got for his cock.
You could hear him reaching around blindly on the floor but with each brush of his skin against your clit, you got less scared about the idea that he would get the ring on you. You knew you didn’t want it. You knew you didn’t want to marry him and there was no way in hell you would willingly say yes, but fuck, you wanted to come.
You touched the side of his face and he finally looked back at you.
“Say yes.”
“Fuck you.” You pulled him down, your lips meeting his. There was blood in the kiss and your lip was throbbing, but you couldn’t care. Not when he was fucking you this violently, this angrily. He’d never fucked you like this before. You were no stranger to Ransom being a cruel lover, but there had never been so much pure wrath.
He had located the box, you could tell when his fingernails stopped clicking against the hardwood floor. You were panicking, not fully thinking through your plans, you just knew you needed to be able to reach the box. You threw all your weight at him and he was barely balanced as it was.
Despite his anger, he still had more of a mind than you—probably because he wanted something out of this, he needed to be mindful to get his way. He basically let you throw him on the floor because he worried about the results if he managed to fall on you.
Instead of retaliating any further, you grabbed his hand and brought it down to your center. He needed no further prompt than that, his thumb began to circle your clit as his other hand grabbed your hip and moved you along the length of his cock.
Where was the box? On his chest, he set this there because he was the cockiest fucking asshole in the world. He saw you eyeing it and smirked. “Go ahead, baby, take it, but you know I’ll fucking stop.”
That was unimaginable. Both hands reached for the one he had on your hip. You continued rolling your hips like it was the last time you were ever going to get to, dragging his hand up to your mouth.
“I swear if you fucking bite me,” he warned.
No, you weren’t going to do that. Yet. You choked yourself on his fingers, stifling all the pathetic sounds that were spilling out from you. Ransom simply enjoyed the show, enjoyed you fucking yourself on his cock, enjoyed you staring at him with those smoky, delicate eyes as you sucked on his fingers.
He stopped touching your clit once he felt you coming. He used that hand to hold you up on your knees and thrust his hips into you punishingly. You were dizzy, disastrously satiated and overstimulated. He finished with a shaking moan, a tell that he was trying to be quiet.
It wasn’t late, the family was undoubtedly aware of what was going on.
He turned down, staring at the place you were still connected. Ransom waited until his cum was spilling out of you and then yanked you back down to take his entire length. If there was anything that Ransom did love in this world it was filling you with his cum and watching it slowly pour out.
You only allowed him to do this several times before you finally bit down on his fingers. His hand lifted from your hip and tore your hair back hard enough that you opened your mouth to yell at him. When he could pull his fingers from your mouth, he wrapped that hand around your neck and pulled you flat down, your chest to his, the ring box trapped between you and him, digging painfully into your ribs.
He slammed you into the wall and you brought your legs up to hook around his waist. “Sorry, daddy, I didn’t mean to bite you.”
“After I get this ring on you, I’m gonna make you call your parents and tell them we’re engaged. And I’m gonna fuck you and make you call me daddy, just to remind your father how much of a daddy’s girl you used to be.”
“Why call when you could Facetime?”
“Then I’m gonna have you choking on my cock, baby, all they need to see is the ring on your finger.” The hand in your hair wedged its way between you and him and he located your clit once more.
It was too much but you knew Ransom wasn’t going to care. Begging him to stop would just provide him enjoyment and that was the last thing you wanted him to have. He kept his other hand around your neck because he knew you would say something that would annoy the fuck out of him if he let you.
When you were coming, his hips were moving once more and his hand abandoned your clit to move the box. You felt it sliding along your skin until it was gone and then you realized he wasn’t holding your neck anymore. He had your left hand held clutched in his and you felt the cold band he was sliding onto your finger.
You couldn’t do much, you had lost and you knew it. But you could leave a few more marks on him, so you latched your free hand onto his shoulder and dragged your nails down his back, and you bit down on his shoulder harder than you probably should have. He was a fucking animal, it seemed like he didn’t care at all. He just wanted to get the ring on you, and once he had, he grabbed your face and shoved you back.
You knew he was trying to get you to look at the ring, but you refused. Your eyes were slammed shut and nothing was going to change that.
He walked you to the bathroom, pulling out to bend you over the counter because he knew you would instinctually lift both hands up to the edge. Once you had, he shoved his cock back inside you and grabbed your jaw to angle your face in the direction of your left hand. “Look at it.”
“Fuck. You!” you growled.
He smacked your ass and even though you shrieked like he was murdering you, you did not open your eyes. He repeated this several times until his own hand was stinging almost unbearably. New plan.
He used his feet to kick your legs apart further and you felt a sharp, sudden slap against your cunt. Your eyes snapped open and a scream tore from your throat. He almost felt bad until he saw your attention on the ring. Was he an ass? Yes. But had he won? Also, yes.
That fucking asshole. His hand dropped to rub over your aching pussy, cock still moving at a painfully fast pace. Ransom was fucking furious and the only way he could take it out on you was by fucking you this way.
You couldn’t say you had any complaints about it. Tomorrow, when you were pretending you couldn’t stand to look at him, you would be bruised and sore everywhere that he had touched you. You would be wet all day thinking about how it happened.
The fucking ring. A huge cushion-cut diamond set in a halo on top of a diamond-encrusted band. It wasn’t simple, it sounded like it, but there was something so beautiful about it. Fuck, you wouldn’t let this ring go unless you were dead. Because he was right. You liked money and diamonds and you were materialistic, and this was from Ransom and you loved everything he gave you. And at the end of it all, even though you were saying no to him, he shoved that ring onto your finger because you were his and that was never going to change.
“Say yes.”
“No.”
“Fine.” He reached for your hand but stopped when he saw you make a fist.
“Try to take this ring from me and I will fucking kill you, Ransom.”
He scoffed. “Great, I’m gonna get my phone to Facetime your parents.”
You rolled your eyes. “Fuck you.”
“Not yet,” he pointed out. “First, I need to fuck your mouth, but then—”
From outside, the dogs started to bark.
You let your head fall onto the counter and groaned. “I fucking swear, every fucking time we’re fucking—”
He pulled out and rushed from the bathroom.
“Hey!” you called out. “What the hell?”
“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered to himself as he searched for where he’d thrown his pants. When had he even gotten them off?
“Ransom?”
“Wait there,” he directed and then he dashed out of the room.
“Excuse you!” It wasn’t like you had much of an option, your legs weren’t working yet, and you were sweating and gross, and bruised and your lip was swollen and clearly bitten.
After several moments, he hadn’t come back. What the hell was he up to? You winced and hummed, made any noise that made you feel slightly better, as you tiptoed around the room looking for something to put on. You settled on one of his shirts and slowly, pathetically made your way downstairs. “Ransom?”
No response.
“Hello, anyone?” If someone else was around, you could force them to look for your boyfriend instead of having to do so yourself. But it seemed that you were out of luck on that.
The dogs were still barking like crazy, but why was no one else reacting? And why did Ransom care? He never paid attention to the dogs. You followed the sound of their barking, they had moved from the backyard to the side of the house. Which was odd because they never went there.
The garage? Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard Linda complaining about something, being constantly interrupted by Joni, Walt, and Ransom. Okay, again, unusual. He tended to ignore his mother, not argue with her.
His eyes widened when he saw you in the doorway. “No, no, this has to stop. I need everyone out of this room.”
“What the hell is going on?” you questioned.
“We don’t want to alarm you,” Donna began, “But—”
“Pretty sure he has drugs,” Meg claimed. “Like, hardcore drugs. Heroin, probably.”
Your eyes widened at him.
He glared. “I don’t have drugs, don’t be ridiculous.”
You gasped, pointing in the direction of the dogs still barking outside. “Those are German Shepherds, they’re drug dogs!”
Meg gasped, nodding at you with wide eyes. “I’m calling the cops.”
“Knock it off,” Linda scolded. “Ransom, show us what you’re hiding right now, or we’ll tear this room apart.”
He rolled his eyes, storming over to the corner of the room where a sheet was laid over something. “Fine, merry fucking Christmas.” He yanked it off one of the old kennels Linda used for her dogs when they were being trained.
There was a long list of things you were suspecting to see. Three sleeping puppies? No, they were nowhere on the list. And then you realized that was why he hadn’t gone to pick up Jacob’s present.
“You got me more puppies?” Linda inquired.
You, along with most of the room, glared at her.
“No,” Ransom snapped. “One is for Jacob and one’s for Meg.”
Both Jacob and Meg excitedly ran to the cage, startling the puppies awake. Much to Ransom’s dismay, the baby talk began without a second thought and the puppies were whining and making those small noises that always irritated him.
One for Jacob. One for Jacob. Then…the third. Oh, god.
He turned to you with a sigh.
“Yes,” you said, “Yes, yes, a million times yes!” You ran across the room, ignoring all your aching limbs and threw yourself into his arms. “And I’ll stop being so mean to you, and if you want to do this at the courthouse, I won’t even be upset because you’re so good to me and I’m awful to you. I’m sorry!”
“It’s okay,” he assured.
“No,” you protested. “It’s a million times not okay! I’m so sorry.” You pulled back to touch his face. “I’m really, really sorry. But I’m going to be the best wife in the world—”
“What?” Joni cut in.
That was the only thing in the world that could have drawn attention away from the puppies.
“Wife?” Linda repeated.
You checked with Ransom and he nodded. He had been looking forward to this. All you had to do was hold out your hand and Joni and Meg were excitedly shrieking. There hadn’t been a wedding in the family in so long.
“Wow,” Walt said. “Ransom? Engaged, showing commitment? This is the strangest year I’ve ever lived.”
Ransom rolled his eyes.
Before another word could be said, Linda collapsed onto the floor. Richard and Walt were the only ones who felt alarmed at the situation, while everyone else moved in closer to see the puppies.
“Which one is ours?” you wondered.
“Yours,” he corrected. “And the blonde one. She was the least yappy I could find on such short notice.”
Your eyebrows pulled together. “Where did you go?”
“The pound, obviously.”
“I fucking love you,” you blurted out, grabbing his face to pull him down into a kiss.
Once again, the room echoed with disgusted sounds.
“Which one’s mine?” Meg wondered.
“I couldn’t care less,” he admitted.
“I’m gonna name mine Hugh,” Jacob announced.
Ransom gave you an expectant look.
“I love you?” you tried.
“Gonna need a lot more than that.” He picked you up and because you knew Ransom wasn’t going to accept any kind of attitude from you for a very long time, you hooked your legs and arms around him and willingly went.
“I’ll take care of your dog until you guys are done being gross!” Meg promised.
chris tags:
@onetwo3000 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @donutloverxo @kleohoneyao3 @cevans-fics
ransom tags:
@la-cey
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Spy and a very laid back love interest who is always bugging them to "just relax" and "chill a little bit"?
Oh god, this would be the best dynamic EVER. Spy would learn to chill and the partner would learn to care. It’s just...so wholesome...
Non-Emergencies:
Spy would simultaneously be trying to keep up his face-of-stone persona while also hyperventilating.
“Do...is the screw under the sofa? Perhaps next to the TV stand? If we don’t use every piece it may fall apart. Sacre...do you even care at all?!”
You raise your eyebrows. “Okay, you know what, let’s hear it.”
“Pardon?”
“If we don’t find the screw, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“YOU KILL YOURSELF ON THIS DEATH TRAP DISGUISED AS A SOFA!”
“How?”
You got him there. He thought for a while, not wanting to admit he was wrong. While he was pondering, you lift up your leg and you find the lost screw. You had been sitting on it.
“Looking for this?”
Spy snatched the screw away from you, cursing under his breath. You can’t help but snicker.
“Listen, if furniture killed, IKEA would have gone out of business long ago.”
“Oui, oui, you are hilarious. Hon hon hon.”
“Aw, you’re so cute when you get all worried about me.”
“Go to hell.”
“Only if I can take you with me.”
After Work:
A lot of times, Spy will come home from jobs absolutely exhausted. He usually finds comfort in you. The Frenchman has told you when he was particularly tired that you “smell like home.” If you are still up, he’ll sit next to you on the couch and eventually fall asleep on your shoulder.
However, every once in a while, he will walk through the door, his eyes wide, his body shaking, and his hair a mess. After those nights, he is always jumpy and anxious for the next week or so.
During those periods, you make sure to give him some extra TLC. You take over meal duties for a while, you make sure to watch shows that don’t have gunfire, screaming, or combat, and you make sure to pour positive thoughts back into his life.
“Spy, I saw the cutest Pomeranian! I know you’ve said you always wanted one.”
“My barista was French, and her name is Mimi! I may have a bit of competition...”
“I saw a double rainbow on the way home! My grandpa always said that double rainbows meant a happy marriage - I guess he was right!”
You’d know he’d be feeling better when you’d come home to the smell of camomile and disinfectant...he always cleaned and made tea when he was in a good mood.
It was also his way of “making it up to you.” He’s always embarrassed about his episodes, but you always secretly like loving on him a bit.
He never let you treat him this romantically otherwise - he felt it was his responsibility to swoon.
But, despite his aversion to being spoiled, he always seems to have a smile on his face when you surprise him with gifts and loving words.
Problems With Being Assertive:
Even though you are as kind as you can to everyone, sometimes kindness isn’t enough. But due to your large family and little personal time growing up, you are a little too forgiving when it comes to how people treat you.
Spy, however, is intolerant of any disrespect. He has scared off many telemarketers and belligerent Girl Scouts with his withering looks and sharp words.
One night, you both were at a restaurant, and you ordered a salad to eat before the main course, as this establishment was known for taking their sweet time with dishes.
Twenty minutes later, your salad arrives, absolutely covered in cheddar cheese. Because you’re lactose intolerant, you had ordered no cheese AT ALL, but your salad had so much cheese you couldn’t even see the top of the lettuce.
Now, Spy has an almost scary memory, and knows exactly what you ordered, but he doesn’t say anything except that you should probably ask for another salad.
“This is their job, mon chéri. If they did not do it correctly, that is not your fault.”
You finally do pluck up your courage and ask the waiter to get a salad without cheese.
They are reluctant, saying that wasn’t what you ordered the first time, but a glare from Spy sent them scurrying back to the kitchen. You get a little irritated.
“Honey, they’re trying their best. Working at a restaurant is hard enough already without remaking something I didn’t have to eat.”
Spy raised his eyebrows. “Something you didn’t have to eat? That you expressly asked for? At a restaurant?”
“You know what I mean.”
The salad comes back and it is very obviously the same salad but with handfuls of cheese picked off. There was still quite a bit left.
Spy is now visibly angry, and you look to him for help, but he shakes his head. He wants you to deal with this on your own. You can’t rely on his social bravery forever. He just gestures to the waiter, who is already starting to walk away, and smiles.
You take a deep breath.
“I’m really sorry, but there’s still cheese on it...I can’t...I can’t eat it.”
The waiter rolls his eyes. “If we make your salad again, you’ll have to pay for all three.
“There’s...only two.”
“You sent it back, we remade it, and now you want me to remake it again. Three.”
“But then why did you add cheese this time?”
“You ordered it.”
“I did not order cheese on my salad! I am really, really lactose intolerant! And...and I ordered no cheese so I wouldn’t be throwing up all weekend! So why would I order cheese?”
“You should have informed us of any allergies you had.”
“I did! By asking for no cheese! What, do I need a doctor’s note to eat here?!”
The waiter started to say something else, but you cut him off.
“It wouldn’t even be that big a deal if your food didn’t take an hour and a half to get here! I haven’t eaten since breakfast, because all my orders got backed up! I just wanted a salad! A salad to eat while your gourmet chef put your gourmet dishes in a gourmet microwave! I thought I could come in, talk with my beautiful husband, and eat a little more than I should so I could konk out watching Nailed It! when I got home! I don’t want to argue with you! I just want a damn salad!”
You strike the table, causing your silverware to clink together. You put your head in your hands and massage your temples for a few seconds.
“So. A salad. With no cheese. Not extra, not some, not picked off. None.”
Spy grinned, impressed.
“I would listen to them if I were in your position, mon ami. You have cleaning duty tonight, no?”
The waiter nodded slowly.
“Let’s just say I have to book a hotel when they accidentally eat dairy. It even set off the fire alarm once, didn’t it, dearest?”
You cock an eyebrow, but you agree to play along. He didn’t have to take it that far.
The waiter blushed scarlet and retreated back to the kitchen. He didn’t say anything all night, and followed each of your instructions to a T.
Once you got back in the car, you smacked Spy on the shoulder.
“Set off the fire alarm?! Seriously?”
“I have been lying all day, mon amour. Forgive me if I wasn’t exactly up to snuff this evening.”
“We can never go here again! Ever! I’ll be known as the guy who almost blew up the bathroom!”
“It isn’t such a loss...I much prefer dining in anyway.”
There was a silence. Suddenly, Spy wrapped his arms around you and kissed you so suddenly you almost fell over. He pulled back after a while, taking his mask off.
“You are so irresistible when you’re angry...”
You giggled. “Did I find a sweet spot?”
“Oui. Most definitely.”
“We’re not going to go to the movies, are we?”
“Unless you prefer the smell of stale popcorn to get you in the mood.”
“You had better make it up to me after tonight.”
“Oh, I will, mon chou. I will.”
**************
I know that this is a little shorter than usual, but I wanted to leave a little more to the imagination. Besides, some bigger HCs are coming up, and I don’t want you to be reading a novel every time I answer a request.
Call this a Non-canon Novella!
#tf2#tf2 fandom#tf2 ask blog#tf2 headcanons#tf2 headcanon#tf2 spy#tf2 x reader#spy x reader#answered ask#answered request#request
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Love is Complicated (part 2)
Reflecting on the relationship and memories from Y/N’s perspective
Also I’m currently listening to Coney Island (Taylor Swift ft The National) so it’s definitely a vibe haha, hope you enjoy :)
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A few days had passed since Harry left and you felt yourself slowing slipping through the cracks as you tried to process all that had happened.
“Y/N what happened?! I thought you guys were going to get engaged this year! You guys were always perfect together, I just can’t believe this!” Gemma all but shouted through the phone. Even though she was Harry’s sister, she had also become one of your best friends since you’d started seeing Harry.
“I know, honestly everything just got screwed up and I don’t even know anymore, Gem. With him leaving all the time and our lifestyles being so different, I just don’t know that it could work anymore.” You sighed as you heard your friend do the same on the other line.
“I know it’s hard, it’s not a normal life that Harry has but you guys had been figuring it out all these years, what changed?” Gemma didn’t sound accusatory or upset, just concerned. You were grateful you had her and, even though she wasn’t thrilled you hadn’t reached out to tell her what happened with Harry but instead had to hear it from him, she knew this was hard for you. You had talked with her about what you’d want your wedding to look like, how you looked forward to Harry’s dad jokes once he was actually a dad and the life that you were both hoping you’d build together.
“I don’t know, I think we both just got tired. We were both drained and couldn’t fight for each other anymore I guess,” you responded glumly.
“Harry I’m so tired, I don’t know if I can make it to bed,” you sighed happily, sitting in the backseat of a black SUV with Harry as a driver pulled into the driveway to the home you shared.
“Mmm, ‘ll have to carry ya in then,” Harry responded in the same light tone, both of you having consumed a large amount of alcohol and now coming down slightly so you both felt happily buzzed.
The car came to a stop then, and you were surprised when Harry jumped out of his side of the car immediately. You laughed when you heard him bump into the door next to you and heard a muffled “ouch” before he swung open the car door.
“M’ lady,” Harry smirked as he seemed to effortlessly scoop you into his arms and turn towards the front door with you in his arms. “Harry!” You squealed as he tripped on his own feet, causing you to almost plummet onto the cement. “Shit,” Harry laughed as he regained his balance and strengthened his grip on your back and underneath your legs. Finally reaching the front door, Harry fumbled around trying to find the key in his pocket while simultaneously holding you as you smirked at this clumsy and beautiful man.
“Harry just let me down so we can go inside,” you laughed, but he did not follow your command. “Baby, I am carrying ya into this house whether ya like it or not,” he responded before planting a wet kiss on your nose. Finally finding the key, he spent way too much time trying to fit it into the lock on the door before tripping into the house with the two of you rolling on the ground before laughing together for the next five minutes.
You walked out the front door after talking with Gemma, finally having the bare minimum amount of energy you needed to make the short walk to the grocery store to buy some more laundry detergent and other small items you needed for the house. It was a sunny day, almost aggressively so, and you almost felt like it was mocking you. You felt so glum and, wallowing in your sadness, you wanted to see a cloudy and gray sky that matched your mood. The bright blue sky and blinding sun just didn’t feel right.
As you made the short walk to the store, you passed by the little park that you’d walked by a million times before. It looked so much different now, however, as so many things did.
“I’m in the mood to frolic,” you told Harry as the two of you strolled, hand in hand, into the little park that had become a favorite spot for the both of you. Harry laughed before squeezing your hand a little tighter and then spinning you in a circle. “Well let’s see it then.” Harry looked at you with a childish grin, and you felt so young and free. You loved when Harry was in this mood and you felt like yours was matching his on this particular day.
“Mm, I don’t want people to look at me. You first,” you responded, grinning at Harry as you imagined the videos on the internet of the Harry Styles having a frolic in his local park. It was a beautiful day and there were so many people out and about, you were surprised no one had recognized him and asked for a picture yet.
“Fiiiine.” Harry drew out the word, and you just laughed as you turned to continue walking through the park. You couldn’t help the squeal that made its way from you as you turned to see Harry frolicking- no, prancing - through the park. You quickly noticed all the eyes on him, many finally recognizing him while some just pointed and laughed.
“Well don’ leave me hanging, love. Come frolic!” Harry yelled as he continued to run slowly and then sporadically leap into the air. And despite the eyes that were now on the both of you, you ran after Harry feeling exuberant and like a child.
You finally dragged yourself into the store that you had made your way through so many times before, but it felt different now. Everything felt different. You and Harry would always laugh at the moody playlist that would be playing throughout the store, which you thought would be kind of depressing if you were here alone. You were never here alone. Until now.
Sheryl Crow belted out the heart-wrenching chorus of “If It Makes You Happy” as you meandered through the produce section, looking for the good apples that didn’t taste bitter and gross. You stopped in your tracks as you passed the kiwis, staring at the sad looking fruit and almost smirking at how depressed you were feeling at that moment because of a stupid fruit.
“Ooh Harry look, kiwis!” You pointed and laughed as you and your boyfriend made your way through the store. Harry rolled his eyes and pouted, just as he did every week when the two of you passed through the produce section and you pointed at the kiwis and laughed. “Like the song,” you added, just for extra clarification.
“Yes thank youuu,” Harry drew out the word, pretending to be annoyed. He thought it was cute how you thought of him every time you saw certain fruits.
“Why is the song named Kiwi anyway? It just doesn’t make sense to me,” you asked, slightly kidding but also curious to know the answer.
“I don’t know it just... fit the vibe,” Harry responded with a smirk.
“Oh shut up,” you laughed as you put more kiwis than anyone would need or want into a plastic bag and threw them into the cart, causing Harry to squawk before picking up a watermelon and pretending to throw it in the cart. Except he accidentally let go and it broke open on the floor between the two of you, this time causing you to squawk and run away as fast as you could, Harry cackling behind you.
You left the store without a single fruit in hand as you made the short journey back to the house you two shared. Tears welled in your eyes as you felt lonelier than ever before, wondering if Harry had even thought of you since he left.
#harry#harry styles#harry fanfiction#harry styles imagine#harry styles one shot#one direction#harry styles series
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11. If I can have you I can do anything
What was supposed to be a sweet release, turned into obstinate mania.
However soothing Hyungwon’s affirmations were, there was no denying; your ego grew bigger than you let yourself realize. He might kiss your stained hands, hazed your thoughts, and erased doubts for a moment, but after toe-curling ecstasy, you were left with a bitter truth.
I am a bad person.
When you got off your new-proclaimed throne it didn’t hit you right away. Your wobbly legs barely held you up, hair stuck to your face, the muscles groaned in exasperation and hummed with delight simultaneously. Probably too many sensations still occupied your body and mind; so of course, it had to be Chae’s words that put you back in reality.
- This is your sin – he said, half-laying on the bed with an open shirt and sweat-kissed skin. Then he added with a small laugh:- Pride, Miss Y/N.
How this man could take you to the highest peak of pleasure and then throw you off straight into a freezing stream of maliciousness was beyond you. But he did it, time after time, always leaving you shocked when you should already learn.
Few days passed without sign of any of the apartment’s guests. Such a restful way should give you some peace when you could focus on your job in quiet. No sudden meetings, no suspicious events, no unprofessional situations with clients – just how it worked before.
It did work before you were aware of yourself. In the past, you didn’t have to ponder on your actions, because you always believed them to be the best you could do. Now the seed of the doubt was sowed, uncertainty always behind your back questioning your true motives.
It was tiring; you wished to be a silly doe once again.
You worked slower, not so actively pursuing your guests' attention. If your manager noticed, she didn’t mention it, simply burying you in paperwork. Or maybe she didn’t want to? Maybe she’s also like me? Perhaps we’re all egocentric creatures, pretending to care, only for our own advantage, without any selflessness?
- Child, you’re spacing out again. Everything’s alright?
Or perhaps not – there may be people with personal interest, like your mother. She looked at you intently, her hands moving uneasily; she must be worried.
- Oh, yes – the answer came out automatically:- Yes, I’m okay.
As you furrowed your brows, concerned why you won’t simply voice out your thoughts, your mom managed to drop her troubles. Your short reply sufficiently good to go her own merry way.
- Good! Hurry up sweetheart or you will be late to the hotel!
You nodded, empty inside once again. Only one purpose: work.
Chae told you there was greatness in evil. How could you not believe him, swept by powerful affirmations? Such a beautiful face of his will convince anyone. Sour veracity flowing from pretty lips, drowning you in his ideals.
- It does feel good, doesn’t it? – he took a rich grip of your thighs, not urging you, just enjoying the heat of your flesh. You looked at him with a small smile, relishing in the way his manhood slid sweetly along your slick walls. No hurry, only the delectation of erotic closeness, fulness again.. having him below you, the stunning man that downgraded you.
His hands moved to your backside, coercing you to move up his shaft. Betraying his lust like this, instinctual pressure to chase the climax made you tilt your head back with a chuckle.
You sat down fully, gripping him tight with inner muscles. Delighted by male’s hiss, you placed your hands on his sweated arms comfortably.
- You tell me – you responded, voice calm as you rose and sink down again; his broken sigh already an answer, but you couldn't help yourself and had to ask:- Does it feel good, Mr Chae?
It definitely did.
At that moment, you ate his words easily. Driven by his praises, easy acceptance of your dark side, you really felt like a goddess. But that was it, just a moment; the person changing into the receptionist’s uniform wasn’t a deity anymore. Not a scared doe either – just a fool, more angered by the idea of being arrogant shrew than the fact she jumped at another’s client's dick.
The discomposure after the encounter with Hyungwon fell short of the one with Mr. Changkyun. Shame ate you alive then, now just warmed up your ears and moistened the hands. The morals? Fitfully unstable.
- Y/N, I left the shift report on the desk, take a look – your colleague chirped at the exit in a typical pink-collar worker’s voice:- There were some complaints to take care of, I know you will do your best! See you next time!
Placing the responsibilities on me over and over; you had to bite your tongue to stop the thoughts. Where do they come from? Am I always presumptuous like this?
- Uh, Miss Y/N?
- Sorry, what’s up?
- The report? – young intern handed you papers, deciding to summarize it anyway:- Guests from the third floor claimed there’s loud music coming from somewhere.
- Music?
- Ah, it’s stated here – she pointed to the last paragraph. If the hotel has musicians or any other vocalists under their roof, the curfew doesn’t work? However skilled, 3 AM piano performance isn’t appreciated.
- Probably someone’s played the CD too loud.. can we even find out who was it?
- Oh hey, something’s wrong? – Yoonho cut in, emerging from behind the corner; your eyes met briefly before he focused on the apprentice. He didn’t stay in your company for long since your silly argument – if you could call it an argument at all. Funny boy, obvious to the suddenly high-pitched voice of the girl between you.
- Loud music? I didn’t hear anything yesterday and I stayed until midnight?
Huh, so he does avoid me.
- Well.. what.. what can we do? Should we stay tonight longer too? – her voice toned down with uncertainty.
- Ah, it doesn’t make sense.. you want to sit at the stairs and pretend to just chill out?
- Probably best if we check it out personally? I mean.. maybe we will hear this wonderful piano serenade room 322 wrote about?
You cringed your nose involuntarily, third-wheeling the awful teenage romance drama. Why the heck she’s so obsessed with him was unclear. He was sweet but way too childish.. proper good-looking at the best, especially among the clients here.
- You said piano? – porter chuckled with annoyance:- Oh, no worries then, your supervisor will solve this puzzle.
Did I say childish?
Yoonho looked at you with an upturned nose. He reminded you of an offended kid; still cute, but definitely testing his limits. Who the hell he thinks he is, little shit-
This is your sin, Miss Y/N.
Wait, why am I getting angry already? It’s nothing for the God’s sake..
Pride.
Oh no, I am better than this, better than you, him and everybody here-
- That’s true – you smiled your best service’s worker smile, taking younger acquaintance by surprise:- I think I can take care of it.
*
You could hear the song on the second floor already; it felt like you were the only one, the other guests not paying any attention to you or elegant tones vibrating in the air. It was a different melody than before, accompanied by a graceful male’s voice, singing the song in a language unknown to you.
The source of the complaint was found in the emergency staircase: the duet of an old piano and young man.
- Looks like we’re meeting again, Miss – the gentleman welcomed, changing the tempo of his song to more relaxing. His white sweater matched the room perfectly; with the new line of chords, he gave off a cozy aura.
- Mr. Yoo – you bowed:- I was looking for you. Did you decide to wander here last night perhaps?
- Is that a proper question from a young lady? – he shifted on a small bench, offering you a seat. You took it without hesitation, feeling at ease in his presence. The effect of his music, harmonic vocals, and polite behavior was soothing for your soul. Exactly what you needed after the vortex of the last events.
- We had a complaint about the noise, sir. You should finish the concert before 10 PM for everybody’s comfort.
- I see.. my apologies – he slouched a bit, big glasses sliding down his nose. He stopped playing to adjust them:- I thought it wasn’t a big deal. There’s a lot of loud singing at the night here.
Frowning was enough to make him explain.
- Intense, melodic .. and greatly feminine.
You could see the rising panic in your face from the reflection in Kihyun’s lenses; he just smiled, a little, almost with adoration.
- It was very beautiful – he assured, calming you down instantly. Soothing came naturally to him – surely he meant your latest stunts, yet his short affirmation was enough to put discomfort for later. No judging, maybe even a bit of understanding. Now you could simply enjoy his appeasing company.
His fingers started waltzing lazily on aged piano keys, filling the silence.
- It made me lonely – Mr. Yoo admitted:- Music makes me feel less miserable.
- I see.. hotel is full of people, but it doesn’t matter. I am sorry to hear this, sir.
A simple nod was the only answer. Seeing the man who until now provided nothing but comfort for you in sorrow mood was upsetting. He deserved better.
You lightly brushed your shoulder against his to lighten up the mood.
- I am here now, sir. With you.
He chuckled.
- That’s what I was hoping for.
Tiny tingling danced under your ribs for a few seconds. Letting it warm you up, then quelling it out habit – you shouldn’t let the simple compliments captivate you. Why you still held to the old manners you were taught? You didn’t exactly follow them lately. Quit the act already.
- Your presence.. conciliate me – hushed words, spoke with caution:- It did last time and so do now. I am afraid I will need it more.
- I.. can help, sir. Please call reception next time, we can talk?
Kihyun laughed, shaking his head with amusement.
- Dear Miss Y/N.. this solitude is a bottomless pit, unfortunately..
His hand came to your jawline, following the path behind your ear. He touched the delicate skin with eyes full of wonder.
- It will never be enough – he stated, then added with a sigh:- I am gluttonous like this.
Nobody wants to be lonely, after all – it’s human nature. He found out your dirty secrets and might want to take his own piece of this cake, hiding it under lame excuses.. but why would he do that? How can you suspect the most courteous man in this hotel? Always polite to you, adding some smarty remarks to keep you on your toes. No pushing your boundaries though – he acknowledged your actions without any criticism.
Maybe he is just alone, wishing for someone to heal the emptiness. What’s wrong with looking for affection anyway? It’s what led you to previous encounters, too. You were touch-starved. Both Changkyun and Hyungwon made you aware of it, appeased the basic hunger, then left you to hunt for yourself.
The doe became huntress, so you closed the gap between you and Yoo with an urgent kiss. He melted with pleasure, almost as if he was waiting for your move.
- So am I – you agreed, clenching his white sweater:- I am greedy, too, sir.
- Oh I can tell – he whispered with a snicker, staring at your moving hands.
The kisses became heated quickly. You were torn between admiring his foggy glasses and reddened lips. The gentleman was focused on chasing your mouth though, arms encircling your frame to close any possible space between you two. His soft touch contrast to your previous lovers, both Im and Chae more fervently urgent. Even your ex-boyfriend, your first.. however considerate he was of your virginity, his inexperience was clear. You didn’t blame him; he was a sweetheart, head over heels in love with you.. at some point at least.
Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but contemplate if he ever loved you for real. Maybe it was a stupid young crush and you stayed together out of habit, playing it safe. It looked like he wanted another type of partner inferring from his social media. No point in complaining now, you were both adults, going their own path.. his more of a party animal, yours.. well. Boring, uneventful, and stable until now; even so, still regretful.
Kihyun’s approach unlike anyone was making you feel treasured as if he was waiting a lifetime for a chance to have this moment. Hyungwon set you on a pedestal, that’s true, but he did it with mendacity, leaving you more mentally confused than before. The male beside you handled you with utter care, gracing you with a love-struck smile. You answered with a grin before you could catch yourself. What a lovely man, worthy of the best, yet he was with you and it seemed to make him the happiest.
Maybe I can honestly bring him joy, maybe I.. maybe I am not as bad as I thought of myself.
Your hands trembled, which didn’t go unnoticed by your partner. He instantly shifted to meet your eyes properly, observing your face for any kind of discomfort. His concern practically startling, given how unused you were to that level of care. Nobody paid attention to your feelings much, obvious hardship dismissed even by your own mother.
This man did on the other hand. He worried about trivial troubled gesture, despite the hollowness of his heart.
I can help; I can be virtuous, whatever Chae implied. You felt he can be wrong this strong for the first time since his arrival.
- Something’s wrong, dear?
You shook your head dismissively.
- No – you answered, grazing male’s legs briefly:- Actually, quite the opposite.
He tried to ask again, however, was silenced with a quick kiss – to stop him from questioning and to provide a distraction from sneaking hands down his trousers, towards a recognizable bulge. He moaned straight into your mouth, such a pure noise you thought of it as your new favorite sound. You needed more of this dissolute melody then and there.
Driven by a desire to take care of your sweet lover, you slid between his legs on your knees.
- Ah, Miss Y/N – blush prominent on cheeks, he still tried to play it cool:- Don’t you favor me way too much?
You shushed him, massaging his crotch that was now your eye-level. He weakly tried to pry your hands with some gentle words, something among the lines of ladies first, although it didn’t stop you.
- Mr. Yoo – unzipping his pants, freeing him from briefs and still you didn’t shy away from his heated gaze:- I want to hear you sing more..
You had your goal now. Clear purpose helping you redeem yourself.
- Please, play the piano and sing – you requested, kissing the head of his erected member. He answered you with a shaky breath, which determined he needed a moment to collect himself. Cute.
The moment he started the new tune, your tongue glided along salty skin. He faltered for a few seconds, picking up the tempo with trouble.
It made you smile; it made you powerful, once again, but at your own rules.
When Kihyun decided to sing, you swallowed him as much as you could. The vocals broke into a loud whine, fueling you to go even deeper, faster, wilder.
You could give him a piece of heaven, sneak peek into oblivion. It was possible without looking for own gain or offensive commentary. Just two people searching for the warmth of intimacy. He chanted foreign words above you out of breath, still harmonic as always and you sensed both your climaxes coming; his primal, your spiritual.
Cure the loneliness out of the pure heart. I don’t want anything, after all; just feel better.
Is that nothing? Or am I seeking for my own benefit?
The piano stuttered, chords losing original pace, throwing the song into chaos. Yoo’s voice slowed down to sinful groans with infrequent lyrics. He was close, exhalation hasty just like the thoughts coming through your head.
Am I proving Chae’s word wrong?
The piano stopped abruptly, some keys pressed together with a smash of Kihyun’s arm. He hid between his elbows and your head, uttering an uncommonly bashful cry. Bitter substance filled your mouth along with an even more savage realization.
You gulped down his cum, stunned enough to not care for typical male’s taste. Tucking him back into pants, mental nausea grew stronger every passing second. You hoped to bolt before facing him, however difficult it might be.
Pointless as expected, when your rose back again he embraced your hips with wobbly palms.
- Not so quick, Miss – sweated from orgasm, not any less handsome:- Let me return the favor.
Favor? It wasn’t a favor. Only a confirmation; you were corrupt as Hyungwon said you were. Determined to convince him you can be good simply because you couldn’t stand the insult. Too proud to admit the truth over again. Not able to accept the accusation so much it made you blow the first willing guy. Extra violation on your naughty list.
- You don’t have to – there was no use to drag the show anymore, so you opted to give up before you could regret it all even more. Kihyun opened his mouth to protest with what could be another wise-ass reply, but you beat him to it:
- We are all lonely in our pleasure in the end.
thank you for reading
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#shangri-la fc#my writing#monsta x fanfic#monsta x imagines#monsta x reader#hyungwon x reader#hyungwon imagine#kihyun x reader#kihyun imagine#monsta x smut#oops oh well#long post
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only waiting for this moment
pairing: loki/mobius
fandom: marvel cinematic universe
rating: general
word count: 4272
warning: swearing, implied character death
summary: Loki is not looking forward to sitting next to a stranger on the way to faer older brother's wedding. But said stranger proves to be good company, after all. (meet-cute, human au, single dad mobius)
(yet after loki’s ended i still obsess about lokius my god..... anyway! i’ve been working on this silly au for way too long so finally it’s out there! is it stupid yes. most likely. but it’s based on this cute fanart so let me live! also loki goes by fae pronouns because :’)))) enjoy! ❤️)
read on ao3
Why does Loki find faerself on a stuffy plane to Venice in the summer heat with several suits and a ring in faer luggage, you may ask?
Because of faer stupid older brother, of course.
Now, don’t mistake fae, fae’s happy for Thor getting married. Seriously!
Faer brother is one romantic bastard, and fae’s seen his looks and smiles around Bruce, fiancee and future husband in about three days, it’s like he would be lost without him. It’s quite endearing, in an overbearingly annoying way. Loki’ll let him know it’s annoying, plenty.
But of course, fae agreed to be the ringbearer, it’s the least fae could do, and fae loves that big fool just as much as he loves faer, even though fae’ll never willingly admit that to anyone other than faerself.
Fae just doesn’t understand why they had to make everyone travel out to Venice to celebrate the wedding, when they could’ve just saved the trip for their honeymoon, but nooo, the ceremony had to be at “the most romantic location in the world”, as Thor dubbed it.
Absolutely ridiculous, but what can you do?
Fae’ll just have to strap faerself in for the nine hour long plane ride, dear god , hope the food isn’t completely horrendous and that their movie selection is decent.
The last part seems to be true, but alas, Loki’s bound to have trouble, considering fae’s found faerself in questionable situations many, many times before. Often Thor’s fault. Often fae’s own fault. Siblings you annoy the shit out of and siblings you would die for, simultaneously, of course.
However, Thor and Bruce arrived in Venice the previous day for arrangement, Jane and Brunnhilde are only leaving tonight because of Brunn’s schedule, and since Sif left earlier today, Loki’s alone. This fae doesn’t mind at all, appreciating peace and quiet, especially with an older brother as enthusiastic and energetic as Thor.
He’s not always annoying, he’s rather comforting, in that way. But times like this, fae could use a little break.
Until the passenger for the seat next to fae arrives, that is.
The person that comes into faers line of view is apologising profusely to a flight attendant for blocking their way, then nearly drops their bag in the face of a passenger in front of them, until they greet fae with decidedly way too much vigour.
They look to be a typical tourist, grey hair and moustache and a goofy smile and a pale blue button-up with fucking flamingos on it. Lord, have mercy. But it really would be fine, absolutely fine, if the person next to fae would have the decency to leave fae alone. Which they didn’t.
It’s clear to fae that they’re the sort of person to spark up a conversation with strangers, and Loki isn’t really in the mood. Rather, fae wants to plug in faers music and hopefully sleep through most of the flight.
“Hey there, buddy!” faers new companion says cheerfully, strapping themself in, apparently not noticing one earbud already in faer ear, “Going to Venice too, huh?”
Loki feels the well-known urge to roll faers eyes. But suck it up, you know… try to be polite, fae tells faerself. “Sure am.”
The passenger nods, satisfied with the short answer it seems. This is why fae is quick to plug the other headphone in before they can get the chance to change their mind. Maybe it isn’t a big deal, they’ll get the hint, surely.
But boy, fae is soon going to discover how wrong fae is. This is going to be a long trip indeed.
*
It’s about one hour after take-off that the trouble starts, more or less. Loki managed to nod off to sleep in an instant, thank the heavens, because… flying. Not great. Sleeping’s become fae’s number one strategy, if fae absolutely has to get on a plane, that is.
Fae made sure to give faers older brother shit for this trip due to that very reason, but Thor’s apologetic eyes and the convoluted three other ways of transport he desperately planned to specifically get fae out of that plane was too endearing, and also too much trouble. Fae loves him for it. Fae also hates carrying luggage, so this is definitely the least tiring option.
Soon enough, however, Loki’s stirred from faers slumber by the tinny voice of the pilot over the speakers, and faers new companion tapping the armrest.
On and on and on. Oh my god, they’re tapping their foot, too.
It’s fine, it’s fine , fae almost feels bad, but fae’s also antsy and groggy which is in no way a good combination.
Regardless, Loki figures fae might as well shake it off, for now. One hour down, eight left to go.
The tapping, combined with the sickening heat sneaks up on fae way, way too quick now. Fae nears the point of airing a snappy comment towards the person next to fae, which could potentially start an argument but who cares .
Perhaps luckily faers stream of thought is interrupted by the flight attendant from earlier, blonde ponytail and a slightly strained smile, rolling along a cart of coffee and soft drinks. Or rather, interrupted by their companion calling out for the attendant.
“Oh, excuse me? My apologies,” they say once they have the blonde’s attention, “My buddy here, they were asleep earlier. Didn’t know what you’d like to drink, heh.”
The last part obviously aimed at yours truly, Loki finds faerself furrowing faer brows. That’s… thoughtful. Fae could’ve surely asked for something faerself. Alright. Anyway.
The attendant nods, seeming to hesitate whether they should start listing all the drinks. Loki puts faer hand up in confirmation, “I’d appreciate some black tea, if that’s possible?”
“Of course,” they reply, hilariously chipper. Faer companion winks, which isn’t really a wink because they don’t seem to know how .
And now, that is what fae expects to be the end of a talk, once more, as fae thanks the blonde and sends them on their way. In fact, fae would grab faers earbuds again, immediately, if the person next to fae didn’t nod in faers direction and tapped the seat twice.
“Sorry to put you on the spot, there,” they say.
Loki tries to keep faer huff in, but to no avail. “Don’t worry about it.”
And faers companion flashes another one of the goofy smiles, such a suburban parent thing. They can’t be more than ten years older than fae, twenty years at the most. The grey hair suits them, Loki decides.
“Oh and how silly of me!” they nearly gasp, “I forgot to ask for your pronouns. I’m terribly sorry.”
Jot fae down as pleasantly surprised.
Fae’ll admit, faer is a little too quick to make assumptions. And given the generational gap, Loki had faer expectations at the very bottom, sadly.
Maybe this person isn’t too bad. Now, at least, whatever. They better be quiet soon, though, because fae’s not sure fae will last a nine hour plane ride with polite small talk, the thought alone is enough to get on faer nerves.
“That’s alright,” fae replies, and if fae returns the smile for just two seconds, it’s not like anyone else will notice, “I go by fae/faer. And you?”
Faers companion’s smile widens by about three sizes, which should be impossible, logistically. “Lovely! He/him for me. Argh, I’ll quit bothering you now, I fear that announcement woke you.”
Loki nods. It did. And he did. Whatever.
“What can you do,” fae sighs, trying to make it significantly less noticeable. “Thanks for the, uh, the tea.”
This man is a lot more pleasant than fae had feared, could definitely have and have had worse company. He’s frustratingly nice, actually. The annoyance will be bearable though, Loki concludes.
And so faer companion waves his hand dismissively, before picking up the magazine from his lap, “No bother. Name’s Mobius, by the way.”
“Loki.”
*
Mobius will soon prove to be interesting company, well, besides the horrendous clumsiness from earlier, which is just more than consistent.
The man has stumbled over Loki’s legs both times he went to the bathroom, dropped the lunch tray from the blonde attendant straight on the floor and had to get it replaced, and, of bloody course, couldn’t figure out the small television without fae’s help. It’s fine .
It’s not nearly as angering as faers brother at his most oblivious and annoying, but fae needs to sleep again at some point. Soon.
Loki would be lying, though, if fae claimed the sheepish smile from faer companion wasn’t just a tiny bit endearing.
Fae can imagine Thor wiggling his brows if he saw fae, now.
This Mobius is just so overbearingly polite and ridiculous, it strangely doesn’t bother Loki all that much. Fae’s not going soft for a complete stranger, though. How dare you even suggest such a thing?
And when fae attempts to fall asleep for the second time, for real, Mobius starts rummaging for something on his side and tapping his feet obnoxiously loud and adjusting the air conditioning when it was already perfect, thank you very much , Loki’s just about to put faer rule of politeness to hell and let the man know what fae thinks until-
Fae stops in faer tracks for a second.
Mobius is humming. Another reason to be annoyed, perhaps, only detail is that Loki instantly recognizes the melody, not from faer own playlist, but a place a bit further away in faer memory.
That’s Blackbird. No doubt about it.
Who is fae kidding, logistically, there’s probably only a tiny fraction of the human population that doesn’t know The Beatles. Regardless, it strikes Loki as… nostalgic.
Faer mother used to sing that song, in particular. It was her favorite, fae recalls. She even sung it to fae and Thor when they were very young. Long before she got sick. And… okay.
Loki shakes faer head at faerself. Not now .
But that memory’s been distant for a while, so it’s rather almost relieving to unlock it now, the revelation that it still exists, still tangible if fae digs it up from faer recollection.
You see, Thor talks about their mother a lot. He can deal with emotion, you know, unlike faerself, hence why faer older brother is the best shoulder to cry on. But don’t tell him fae said that.
For some reason, the words slip out of fae’s mouth before fae can stop them, “I love that song.”
The man next to fae seems to startle for a moment, but quickly collects himself. “Hm?”
“My apologies, uh… you were humming. Blackbird. ”
Mobius’ eyes widen, like he’s had the biggest revelation of his life, “Ah! Me too. Gave that one to my daughter, actually- she collects vinyl records, and that was her first.”
Loki finds faerself chuckling, fondly, in a way that seems uncharacteristic, even to faerself. Reminds fae of faer mother, again.
“My mother used to sing me that,” fae decides to tell, since the man has already shared some information from his life, might as well return the favor, “When my brother and I were little, growing up.”
And Mobius puts the crossword page of magazine he was occupying himself with before down, already engaged in the short conversation, that… is a little endearing, fae’ll admit it. “It’s a classic. Are you traveling with them? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”
Loki waves a hand, “You could say that, hah. My brother’s getting married tomorrow.”
This news only excites the grey haired man more, by several degrees. He’s grinning, at this point, and almost jumping in his seat, as if he’s been waiting for something, anything to celebrate. “Oh my, congratulations!”
Fae nods, simply, shortly. Hopefully it still conveys that fae is very much excited for the big day. Loki feels bad that fae doesn't quite express this that much, not… bursting with energy as many would, but that doesn’t mean fae’s not happy!
“Got stuck on ringbearer duty,” fae jokes, grimacing for good measure. Wait, fae’s joking with a stranger right now? What the fuck?
“Of course,” Mobius replies, getting the sarcasm, thank heavens. And when Loki asks the same question, he laughs, “Not nearly as exciting here, I’m afraid. My ex-husband and I split up a year ago, and I haven’t exactly had any vacation since then, so… flying solo.”
This is something that could make Loki flinch, almost.
First of all, embarrassing to ask something personal and the reveal of something that personal and that just makes fae feel all kinds of rude. Second of all, ex- husband , huh. Wait, wait, wait. That’s not shocking, fae means… it’s not like fae starts to think about the fact that the man next to fae is single or anything. What?
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“No, no, don’t apologise. Peaceful divorce, no worries there.”
This talk is… nice. Another sort of peaceful silence falls upon them and it isn’t even uncomfortable, Loki thinks. Fucking weird.
And fae guesses that maybe Mobius is attractive, his face is soft and smile annoyingly contagious and his hands are rugged, wonder what he works with- no, no , stop. Brain, shut it. Shut it down immediately.
Thor would be having a real field day if he could see fae, right now.
“One day, you’ll find someone to melt your heart, trust me!” he had assured fae - once again, older brother, such a romantic, they couldn’t be more opposite. Perhaps that’s why they get along so well.
And so their talk progresses, and it’s really not that dull small talk to fill the void as Loki expected. Most shocking thing all day, of the year, even, fae might just like this man’s company.
Turns out this Mobius has an extraordinary interest in watersports, particular jet skis, knows way too many facts about that, too. He’s also a history teacher, and likes pineapple on pizza, which is nearly unforgivable, but he also shows Loki tons of vacation pictures of him on said jetskis, and him with his daughter, and his dog, so fae will look past it.
Pity this is a chance encounter, in… six and a half hours, they’ll be on the ground and fae probably won’t ever see the man with the silver hair and moustache and horrendous flamingo shirt ever again.
Perhaps it’s for the best.
*
Good news! Loki finally managed to fall asleep again, fae was due for that, only to be awakened once more by shaking and tumbling.
Until now, fae’s been talking more and more with the man next to fae and noticing little things about Mobius which fae doesn’t want to consider too much why fae is noticing or why fae is finding him adorable and attractive and way too funny for his own good. Right.
Is Loki turning into faer brother, right? God forbid.
But the grey haired man’s jokes are good, fae swears. And he’s so goddamn polite and has apologised to fae for the smallest things, even going to the bathroom , so many times that fae’s lost count. Now, normally, a stranger next to fae being this unable to sit still or be quiet, but… at this point, Loki’s struggling to be mad about anything.
Mobius’ voice, even, is strangely soothing, huh. It goes even softer and almost to the point of a whisper when he talks about his daughter, which may or may not make fae’s heart warm. Just a bit. Listen. Listen.
He just sounds so caring, right?
Besides that, his hands. And eyes. Everything about him just exudes warmth, for some reason. Strangely enough, it makes Loki want to hold the man’s hand. Nuh uh, not happening.
Maybe that’s why fae somehow found it easier to fall asleep again, about halfway through the flight. A sense of safety, somehow. That is, until fae’s now awake once again, the seat feels like it’s moving, most passengers back seated and strapped in, the plastic cup of water on Mobius’ tray table looking awfully disturbed and fragile.
Shit. This is not good. Not good at all.
Granted this is probably just turbulence, right? Right. Most flight crashes begin with turbulence, though, don’t they?
Oh god. Why is fae’s companion so fucking calm right now? This is bullshit.
Loki feels like ripping faer seatbelt off and screaming at whoever is responsible for this, but no one is and fae’s legs feel frozen and hands are shaking way, way too much.
When the sky turned grey when they were younger, when they were home alone as their mother was in the hospital and their father was… God knows where, Thor used to comfort fae. Loki’s always been scared of lightning. Fae’s older brother loves it, fascinated by it for some stupid reason, but Thor also knows when fae needs him without even saying anything.
His presence alone helped, and he’d only hug fae when fae asked. What the fuck is Loki supposed to do now?
Fae is not about to cry in a damned airplane full of strangers because of turbulence. Absolutely not happening. But fae’s throat is almost closed up, now, Loki can’t do anything , even if fae wanted to.
It’s sort of like the world’s cracking and swallowing fae up. No, fae doesn’t really give a shit if fae sounds overdramatic right now, because fae’s freaking out, almost to the point of the tears stinging like needles behind Loki’s eyes, and if the tight feeling in faer chest is any indication, this is bad. No. No, no, no.
Thing is, Loki doesn’t quite realise how long the shaking’s been despite the pilot reminding them all to remain calm, or how long fae’s been stuck without being able to breathe, until a hand comes to rest on faer upper arm.
Fae can’t even turn faer head, but notices the touch immediately. Then, a whisper of unintelligible words meets fae, Loki doesn’t understand, so fae swallows thickly and gets a, “I beg your pardon?” out through clenched teeth.
“Is there anything I can do?” The question comes clearer now. Loki frowns, faer hands shaking even more than before.
“What?”
“To help. I know it’s scary,” Mobius says. He sounds eerily calm, but also as a fog of assurance and stability, distracting fae even if it’s just for a second or two.”
Loki sniffs, shakes faer head at faerself, “This is childish.”
“Fear isn’t childish, darling,” the man says, and when fae finally finds some way to look at him, a bearable way through the held in tears and the voice in faer head nagging fae to suck it and not be such a fucking coward, Mobius smiles, “If you want me to leave you alone, I will.”
So Loki considers this. That is, after all, what fae wants about 95% of the time.
However, embarrassingly enough, fae sort of has come to prefer the attention of faer companion. Fae hates him a little bit for it.
“Do you mind if I hold your hand?” Loki asks then, surprising faerself, and Mobius perhaps, but maybe he’s just hiding it. The request for affection sounds strange in faer mouth. “I just need a moment.”
And will you look at that, the grey haired man has already grabbed faer hand before replying. Softly, simply a hand moving down from faer arm and resting on faer knuckles. Loki decides to latch onto his hand, because screw it. Mobius doesn’t remove it.
“Not at all,” he replies.
This is, by all measurements, very uncommon.
Loki’s holding a complete stranger’s hand, a stranger who offered comfort and fae asked for comfort, a stranger who apparently could see past faer gritted teeth and realise just how scared fae was.
The turbulence feels like it’s never going to end. Mobius doesn’t say anything, or hum anything, or tap his foot like he did before. Just looks at his little screen and suddenly taps his thumb one time on the back of Loki’s hand, and while fae still can’t breathe, fae does nod to the man offering one of his earbuds to him.
The Beatles, typical.
When Loki counts the minutes of each song, it helps. Fae focuses on the strumming of the guitar and the warmth of the man’s hand in his until fae’s own has stopped shaking completely, and not long after the plane stops, too.
They’ve passed. The glowing seat belt sign is turned off. A two digit number of passengers rush for the bathrooms. The baby four rows down has stopped crying.
Loki sniffs once, breathes out like faer life depends on it, before realising and extracting faer hand from Mobius’. Fae held onto it for way longer than necessary. The grey haired man just smiles again, however, snaps his fingers and offers fae a piece of gum. “You did great.”
Fae accepts. Why does Mobius feel… safe, somehow? They’ve known each other for seven hours now, goddamnit.
Whatever. Maybe fae can catch sleep for the rest of the trip.
But then, fae only now realises what the man next to fae said earlier, or rather, what he called.
Darling . That’s a nickname. A nickname by a divorced dad who enjoys The Beatles and wears printed shirts and is passionate about jet skis and holds Loki’s hand when fae’s nervous. Alright, then.
*
To Loki’s and probably everyone’s surprise, those nine hours have suddenly passed surprisingly fast.
Soon enough, they’re preparing for landing and fae’s not feeling like the world’s crashing down and Mobius is chatting again, which fae doesn’t mind at all anymore. Damn that man.
But here they are, on the ground, and faer companion is grabbing his luggage and gestures for Loki to go first, such a gentleman, and he’s smiling so stupidly all the goddamn time, it’s exhausting. Almost.
In fact, Loki’s caught up with Mobius and his chatting and his gestures and faer own thoughts and smile fae can’t hide until a text pops into faer phone, from Thor. Over half of it is emojis, faer older brother is ridiculous, but fae reassures him fae has safely arrived, now fae just has to get to the hotel.
The rehearsal dinner is early in the morning, so fae better get unpacked.
Brunnhilde sends a group of selfies with Jane, too, because you know, couples. Loki being the only single person in their friend group at this point is in no way surprising, and it’s not like fae was eager to bring a date to the wedding, either.
Except… well.
Fae is tragically still staring at Mobius just a little too long when they pick up their suitcases, the conversation dwelled to a comfortable silence already.
The grey haired man must be talking on the phone with his daughter, if the, “I love you,” is any indicator, then he tells a puns that is just so bad fae can hear her laugh from the speaker. He also freaks out about his lost sunglasses until Loki nicely ( very nicely) points them out on the top of his head.
Okay. Loki’s about to do the stupidest thing in faer life. Here goes nothing.
“Mobius,” fae says as they exit the airport out into the street, fellow tourists bustling alongside them, “I have an… unusual preposition, if that’s alright. If you’re not in a rush?”
Loki finds the nerves bottling up in faerself, for some reason. Fae picks at faer black nail polish before the man turns back to fae with a raised brow and smile perfectly intact.
“I’m all ears,” he grins. Fae may feel a little like floating.
Fae also takes a deep breath before continuing, “Remember my brother’s wedding tomorrow?”
It’s more a rhetorical question, but Mobius nods in certainty.
“Well, Thor- my brother, offered me a plus one, of course,” Loki starts out, trying to word it in a way that doesn’t sound absolutely absurd, “I don’t have one, uh… a date. And well, I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.”
The grey haired man raises both his eyebrows now, seeming deep in thought.
Was that weird? It was weird. Can fae even save this, oh god, “I mean, you’re probably busy. Gosh, my apologies, that was stupid-”
“Loki,” Mobius interrupts, a hand on faer upper arm once again, grin turning even bigger and warmer if not just a tiny bit curious. He adjusts the sunglasses on his nose before continuing, “That was far from stupid, I assure you. I will say I’m probably not a good choice for that.”
Loki almost wants to scream. “What do you mean?”
Faer companion has this habit of laughing at himself. Loki still can’t decide if it’s most endearing or annoying.
“I’m just an old fool,” Mobius tells fae. That’s rather infuriating, definitely false, but fae can’t bring faerself to interrupt, everything about the man just signalling softness and familiarity and like an embrace of some kind that fae hasn’t even experienced, “Can’t imagine why someone as… stunning as yourself would want me around, is all.”
Loki softens faer irrational irritation several degrees. The compliment might even cause a blush to rise in faer cheeks, but you take that to your grave.
Fae likes this Mobius, that’s absolutely certain. An old fool, faer ass. Consider that faer new plan, to get to know faer new companion way more than this. Hopefully soon. Hopefully for more than just this vacation, maybe. One can dream.
“Excuse my bluntness,” Loki answers, already reaching out for the man’s hand the same way he did to fae mere hours ago. This is new, and yet, like coming back home. “But I don’t think I’d want anyone else.”
#mine#my writing#marveledit#fanfiction#lokius#mcu#loki tv#human au#marvel fanfiction#fluff#general rating#tw: swearing#mcusociety#eloquencenet#meet cute#strangers#crush#loki pov#vacation#sabrinasfamily#meghansfamily#first meeting#tw: death#lutkasfamily#usersthea#useraustens
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The Shrike and the Lark (pt. 2)
Jaskier and Renfri are disaster twins ruling Creyden. When the Warlord of the North knocks at their door, Queen Renfri and King Julian are at an advantage - they know him. As in, they know him. (Inspired by the Warlord AU and “the heart is a winged beast��).
(Pt. 1)
Creyden, 1237
It does not start as a usual feast. Although all the elements of a good celebration have been provided – food, drink, music – the mood is anxious rather than festive. The court of Creyden is apprehensive of the witchers and one sorceress seated at the high table; no one but the King and the Queen talks to them.
King Julian chatters with the witcher sitting at his left, whose face bears terrible scars. His name is Eskel, of the Wolf School. The White Wolf’s right hand and second-in-command has an agreeable countenance; King Julian seems to be perfectly at ease as he speaks to him. The two are, in fact, so engrossed in their conversation that they scarcely take note of what is happening around them.
Julian and Eskel do not pay attention when Queen Renfri addresses the White Wolf – who is seated at her right and has been silent thus far – loud enough for many to hear.
“I must say,” she begins, “to the naked eye, you don’t seem to have changed at all since we last met, yet they're many things that are different about you now.”
“Is that so?” the Warlord inquires.
“Oh indeed,” the Queen answers, “The last time I saw you, you were a man who adamantly refused to choose between evils. No evil was greater or lesser to you.” She regards the witcher closely and he watches her in the same manner. “And yet,” she goes on, “choosing what you deem the lesser evil is all you do now. Killing those in power to free the oppressed. A noble cause in a way, I admit –”
“But it’s still evil,” the White wolf finishes the thought.
Many ears are now listening in, and the white-haired witcher seems to be aware of it. He looks around, yet no one but Lady Yennefer sitting at his right dares to return his gaze.
Finally, he replies, “I must say I never expected to hear criticism of killing from the mouth of the Shrike. You seem to have changed your ways too.”
“Only slightly,” Queen Renfri retorts, “I’ve never stopped seeking revenge, but now I find that reclaiming my birthright is a much sweeter way. I triumph every day, not just once.”
The Warlord considers these words for some time. When he speaks, he remarks, “Your Majesty leads an empty life, then. If revenge is all you breathe for.”
The Queen’s eyes flash with icy ire. “I am not some kind of monstrous creature that finds fulfilment in vengeance. Though the blessings of my life have been few and far in between, it is they that give me the most joy.”
The White Wolf inclines his head but does not say anything to this. Queen Renfri’s anger appears to have lessened now; as she reaches for her goblet of wine and lifts it up, her lips are quirked up in a gentle smile.
“Shall we raise a toast?” she asks. “To life’s blessings. To the good moments we experience, to the good people we meet.” She looks to her brother, who is now listening to her with a soft smile of his own. “To friends and family.”
“To life’s blessings,” King Julian toasts.
After everyone drinks to that, the Kings raises from his seat, which causes the musicians to stop playing. Eventually, the whole room hushes, waiting for him to speak.
“The Queen, in her wisdom, reminded us all of what we should cherish,” he says. “Following her advice, I would like to count my blessings. Thus, I wish to honour her... with a song.”
The court of Creyden raises a loud cheer. King Julian grins and leaves the high table, a skip in his step. As he joins the musicians to be given a lute, the White Wolf’s entourage looks upon him with bemusement.
It is not a fact well-known that King Julian used to go by another name. Even his own subjects can only guess what person he passed as, although to some, it is not a challenging riddle. Around the time Jaskier – a winner of the annual bardic competition, a troubadour renowned in all Northen Kingdoms for his craft – mysteriously disappeared, King Julian was crowned. Seeing the mastery with which the King wields his words, voice and lute, the puzzle is not hard to solve for those who know all the pieces of it. The Lark simply has never stopped singing; the difference is that now, he does so for fewer people.
When King Julian begins playing The Ballad of the Black Sun Princess, he quickly has his audience captivated. All eyes are on him as he dances around the tables, smiling and winking, telling the story of how Queen Renfri defeated the mage Stregobor.
With everybody’s attention on the King, no one takes note of how the Warlord leans in close to the Queen.
“That’s not how it happened,” he grunts.
Queen Renfri chuckles. “Jaskier has the advantage of being the author of the ballad. He likes making use of it.”
“That he does,” the White Wolf grumbles.
After the song ends and the applause dies down, King Julian asks, “Shall I sing another?”
A chorus of eager ayes answers him.
“All right then,” he decides, playfully surprised. “I’d like to dedicate this next song to our honourable witcher guests. They are, after all, friends of humanity. Though I think that we should refrain from tossing some coins.”
At this, the court of Creyden cheers uproariously. With a delighted laugh, the King starts singing Toss A Coin. Simultaneously, the White Wolf curses under his breath.
“Fuck,” he spats, with quiet despair.
The reaction draws a laugh from Lady Yennefer. “Don’t be so grumpy, Geralt,” the sorceress tells him, “the song is not that bad.”
“Yeah, it’s not bad,” Geralt replies, “it’s fucking terrible.”
Lady Yennefer shakes her head but does not chide her lord any more.
“I’d advise you not to insult my brother’s work,” Renfri warns, “not when it’s not deserved.”
“My criticism is not unfounded,” Geralt retorts, “Jaskier chose to portray the elves in an unfairly negative light.”
Renfri does not deny that. Instead, she says, “Now I understand why he called you his harshest critic.”
The White Wolf only hums in response. After a moment, the Queen fills the silence, “My brother talked about you. He mentioned your shared travels... and more.”
“I see,” Geralt replies.
“To be fully transparent,” Renri carries on, her tone hushed, “I also told him of our past... relation.”
Upon hearing that, Geralt’s gaze snaps to her, his eyes wide and his mouth parted. Renfri bursts into delighted, whole-hearted laughter.
“Don’t worry,” she reassures the witcher once her giggles do not take her breath away, “you’re in no trouble. It caused no quarrel between us. In truth, we only find it entertaining. Really, Geralt, you should see yourself! It’s a joy to tease you.”
“I’d appreciate if you stopped with your jest,” Geralt grumbles.
“We shall see about that,” Renfri answers.
“Renfri,” Geralt grits out, “let the past stay in the past.”
The Queen and the Warlord stare each other down for a moment. Neither seems willing to yield but in the end, Renfri relents.
"Very well," she agrees, and they speak no more of it.
King Julian’s performance does not end with Toss A Coin. The audience wants him to continue, so he goes on to play some jigs. A few pairs begin dancing to the music, and many others soon follow in their footsteps. Eskel and Lady Yennefer join the dancefloor, and so does Queen Renfri. The White Wolf remains seated, watching everyone make merry, his golden gaze often straying to the singing Lark.
When King Julian tires of playing, he leaves the musicians to provide entertainment while he himself rejoins the high table. Since his sister is still dancing, the seat next to the White Wols is empty, and Julian seizes that opportunity.
“Hello, the Warlord of the North,” he greets as he sits down at the witcher’s side.
The White Wolf grunts but does not deign the King with a reaction. Julian gives a disbelieving chuckle.
“You, a warlord,” he says, “I still find it hard to believe. You used to be such a peace-loving creature. One of the most passive, pensive men I’ve ever met.”
“And you, a king,” the Warlord counters, “You used to be a bird who fled at the slightest mention of taking any kind of responsibility. One of the most selfish, reckless men I’ve ever met.”
“Well, look at us now.” The King smiles wryly. The White Wolf does not respond to that. King Julian heaves a sigh. “What happened, Geralt?” he asks quietly.
For some time, Geralt is quiet, not sparing Julian a glance. When he answers, at last, he only says, “It’s a long story.”
“Why don’t you tell me?” Julian inquires.
Geralt seizes him with a heated look, as unforgiving as the surface of the sun.
“You know enough of my stories, Jaskier,” he growls.
Not waiting for a reply, Geralt gets up and goes to take part in the dances, partnering with Lady Yennefer. Hurt twists Jaskier’s features but he masks it quickly. When his sister returns to his side a few minutes later, he greets her with a smile that clearly has no humour in it. Renfri does not comment on it.
Read the rest on AO3
#myfic#geraskier#the witcher fanfiction#the accidental warlord and his pack#renfri & jaskier are disaster twins
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h h hewwo owoo 22 / 23 / 29 / 31 / 34 / 50 / 58 / 61 / 88 in any order, and u can also just. pick only those that u want :3
hhhh-ewwwo? I did say I wanted to chat and I desperately do not want to do work or studies so buckle in for a long post (derogatory).
22. role model?
Oh man, I don’t think I have any, like, specific ones for entire things, though I do fall in my hero-worship phaes and then fall out of them like everyone else. I think that taking an entire person and being like I wanna be like them is... not for me though. But I do look up to some people for specific things - I look up to, weirdly enough, Abigail Phylosohpytube who I didn’t watch before her coming out for her graceful coming out video though she admits that the experience wasn’t obviously as smooth. I look up to lots and lots of people for their ability to create and their art (not gonna tag my fav artists bc am tiny and do not want people to look at me, but i do be reblogging). I look up to people like ConcernedApe Stardewvalley and Supergiantgames Hades for their ability to put so much soul in their work, smth I aspire to do. I look up to @not-poignant for, among other things, their idk how to say it best, wisdom in understanding and communicating with others and with myself? I’ve learned a lot by just sort of being in their periphery and seeing how they articulate their thoughts and choose to be kind and witness other’s pain. Hell, I look up to twitch streamers and youtubers sometimes (the recent nice trait I’d like to have if I ever went into bigger content production is how ibxtoycat deals with parasocial relationship realities).
23. strange habits?
Hm. I don’t think drinking tea whenever I need a pick-me-up is strange, that’s just probably forcefully assigning a British nationality to me. I think my insistence on misspelling words in a way I think is lowkey funny might be one, I say thamks bc it feels softer, or thank bc it’s funny, I say sleeb, I say finkers or tryink or otherwise replace g with k for lulz. I also don’t know if it counts as a habit but I have a small leather band around my wrist that’s been there for a year soon. Hmmmmmmmmmmmm I probs have like, stranger habits but I can’t recall rn.
29. best way to bond with you?
Hmm. Well, if you show initiative and are explicit about wanting to spend time with me, that’s already a big chance of me spending time with you. And then if our interests match and I don’t think that you’re like, young in a way that automatically puts me in a position where I don’t feel comfortable really being myself around you bc in my head I have to look out for you (it has happened with two of my friends, sigh), and we regularly spend time together, voila, friend acquired. It simultaneously doesn’t take much and takes a bit to be my friend and bond with me - it’s easy af to become a casual friend cuz I’m always open to new people, but there has to be a level of trust to become like, a close friend. Respecting my boundaries, talking shit with me, being explicitly committal about wanting to bond with me are big steps that way.
31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?
Uh, I don’t do neither, but a current fave that is reasonably badass is my black tshirt with like, a ritual circle and a deer skull. V edgy, 10/10. I also used to have like a real edgy tshirt with a jester and some dice that said the game of life, but I threw it out bc dysphoria. or maybe I put it at the back of my closet along with one other shirt In Case I Get Top Surgery so I can wear them then.
34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?
Many, such is the nature of advertising, alas. I have managed to avoid most of it tbh though, so the only place I am forced to sit through ads so they stick is my scrabble capitalist nightmare app where I play and always beat haha my coursemate. And they have adds for those shitty apps where you have to solve a puzzle that ends up failing in the add and like, drenching a man in green goo. I find those kinda fascinating tbh. Who plays these games? Who plays these shitty shitty games whose ad has to be “prove your IQ“ to make you want to prove yourself to play them?
Oh and also, the insidious nature of ads in media I consume - the mcelroys have gotten me informed about many many things bc they do it in a funny way. Have you heard about squarespace? What about meundies? I also literally installed honey yesterday that I knew abt bc of the relentless adds and I wanted to save, uh, 2.50 from my minecraft server purchase (and then spent some time googling how they make money before giving up. just say u sell my data, that’s easier than not knowing what part of this makes you money). I was tired and in a weird mood, ok.
50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?
It’s always the stupidest jokes, what matters more is laughing together with someone and getting caught in a laughing loop. I still remember laughing with my siblings until our stomachs really really hurt bc I think one of us said a rug was vomit-colored and it was funny in the moment. How many times have I laughed like that with you too, vit. I know that Laura’s one is nostrilatu, right? :D :D It’s just something that catches you off guard, I think.
58. four talents you’re proud of having?
Oh shid. Hm.
1) My ability to analyze data and understand the basic building blocks of something. Makes me cool at studying and sexy at explaining things to my course-mates.
2) Not a talent more like a skill that I’ve worked hard on through therapy - but my inner positive voice/healthy parent is very strong and automatic (something I was sure would never happen). A good example is me going out for a walk, my phone dying so I can’t listen to music, when I went in my head “well I can always make music in my head. do-do-do *drum sound*“ and I could feel the wave of self-reprimand cresting but before I could actually hear any negative comments the positive voice said with a light of a thousand suns NO THAT IS ACTUALLY CUTE AND SEXY and just haaaaaaah.
3) I sing good. Need to sing more.
4) I think I’m good at making conversation. Even with people I don’t necessarily like or want to talk to. More of a skill again but whatever.
61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?
Do not come to me and ask for favorites, witch. Uh, I have some quotes in my notes app, like 7 from Pia’s writing :D. But imma go with “It’s a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in the broken world“ by Mary Oliver. It counts, ok. Or, wait, something I will for real one day either crosstitch of commission shitpostcalligrapher: “t’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.
“What are we holding onto Sam?”
“There’s good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it’s worth fighting for.“”
88. your greatest wish?
Hrm. Right now? To have like a couple days with no responsibilities and without the outside world bearing on me as heavily, to be tiny tiny tiny so I’m invisible and can drink tiny tea on a tiny leaf. Uh, in general? My recently formulated wish or a goal is stability/peace. Then everything else becomes ok because you can bounce back to stable ground between feeling shit or everything happening so much. And I’ve sort of reached that. Also like, half a million euros would be nice too so I can get a house and a car and go on a few trips abroad. :D
// there’s two ask memes in my blog recently, go wild
#long post#derogatory#personal#i think the wish to be tiny was there more last week#now i just wanna have nice things and fun and a bit of rest but am otherwise less overwhelmed#also hey. talks#chats
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Chapter 16 - A Sister’s Solace
*comes running in panting with scattered notes everywhere* Hi guys, I made it on time! Last chapter before this term hits me with full force, lol
First and foremost I have to thank @spiffingtea for that, who kindly agreed to continue betaing this fic (go chech out her writing, there's one witcher fic and I love it).
Second of all, thanks for all your comments! That ending caused quite an uproar, huh? For all those of you wondering how Jaskier will react, here's the answer:
Summary: Jaskier has a hangover and wakes up to unexpected news concerning the relationship status of his witcher. Strangely, this isn't the worst thing to transpire that miserable day.
Read on AO3
prologue | previous | next
"And you're certain, Jakub?"
"Quite, my lord," the servant answered with a guarded expression. "The witcher hasn't returned to his chambers tonight."
"Fine," Jaskier said and took a moment to close his eyes and take a deep breath, leaning heavily against the wall. He felt nauseous all of the sudden, and not because of the overindulgence in alcohol from the previous night.
"Are you alright, my lord?" Jakub asked, obviously very unimpressed with the sudden fainting spell his master was experiencing. His servants held seldom any pity for him when they knew him to be the cause for his self-inflicted suffering.
"Just fine," he lied. No, he was angry, and he was hurt, and he wanted to blame someone for it but couldn't. Because there was absolutely no reason for him to feel the familiar burn of jealousy in his chest.
He had never asked Geralt to keep his hands to himself, with the exception of his sisters. Besides, it was a completely unreasonable thing to do. He had his needs, after all. Jaskier should be used to it by now. Slowly, he straightened himself. "And, ah- whose bed did you say it was, that he managed to charm his way into?"
"Marin, my lord. Though I believe it was our esteemed Captain of the Guard that did the charming."
Jaskier grimaced. 'Fucking great.' The only upside to this was that with Marin at least he could be certain that his Captain would refuse if he was averse to the attention. Which, somehow, only made it worse.
"They're the talk of the castle," Jakub kept reporting as he handed him his sword belt, "and the bets have already been settled-"
"Jakub?" Jaskier interrupted him.
"Yes, my lord?"
"Please drop the topic."
"Certainly, my lord. Is there anything else?"
"You tell me. What obligations do I have to try and avoid today?"
"Nothing but the breakfast with your family, my lord. The staff will begin the preparations for your departure to Goldfurt. And on the far end of the town, one of the tenant’s roofs caved in."
"See it repaired, if you'd be so good. Oh, and also check on the construction progress, if you will? I don't feel in the mood for riding today."
He didn't feel in the mood for anything today, to be fair. With his truly spectacular hangover it was a miracle that he had dragged himself out of bed at all. The news Jakub had just dutifully delivered, made the urge to crawl back inside nearly irresistible.
After sixteen years on the path he had experience in walking a headache off, at least. Geralt never took pity on him when he had indulged the liquors a bit too much and neither did his station. 'Your fault if you get drunk,' he remembered Geralt's gravelly voice and winced. This wasn't going to get any easier.
He could hear the clattering of cutlery already when he stepped out of the stairwell into the hallway. 'Great,' he thought, 'now I have to suffer Janina's judgemental glances as well.' As if the smell of food, chatter of three children, and a freshly broken heart weren't enough to stomach before noon after a bender.
A servant hurried to get the door for him. Immediately his senses were assaulted by a plethora of smells and sights and sounds, so many it was nearly overwhelming. Jaskier suppressed a quiet groan. He nodded along with the greetings as he contemplated the viability of at least ordering the curtains shut, so he wouldn't have to deal with sunlight, too.
Before his pondering could be considered even slightly conclusive, he was victim to a different kind of assault. "Uncle Julian!" Daria exclaimed and leapt from her seat. She barrelled into him at full force, nearly knocking them both over.
He regained his precarious balance and heard two simultaneous gasps from the table, rapidly followed by an appalled: "Lady Daria!"
"Good morning, dear," he said and forced himself to smile. "I take you had a good night's rest?"
She nodded eagerly and he would have loved to continue their conversation. Alas, his attention was diverted by the sound of a chair scraping over his parquet and the resolute click of bootheels. "I am so sorry, your Lordship," Miss Nina, the nettlesome nursemaid, said and curtsied as she tried to pry her charge away from him. "Rest assured that such misbehaviour will neither be tolerated nor repeated."
"Fear not, madam," he said calmly and petted Daria's hair, not missing how she stuck out her tongue, "for I assure you that not only do I tolerate this 'misbehaviour', I encourage it even."
She opened her mouth as if she wanted to protest before remembering who she was talking to and quickly returning to the table — which was decidedly lacking some of his guests, now that he thought about it. Janina and Józefa were present, as were Ciri and Julek, and he noticed with delight that Justyna's old chair had been placed at her rightful place. It was empty, though, as was Geralt's.
He wrinkled his nose, about to comment on it, when Janina got the drop on him, clicking her tongue in disapproval. "She's ten years old, my lord," she said in that soft condescending voice of hers that betrayed her insincerity, "it does not befit a lady to succumb to emotional whims in public."
"Precisely, Lady Goldfurt," he teased her, "ten years in which I did not have the chance to spoil the children who share my blood and name rotten." He shot a quick glance to Ciri, who was too engrossed in the excited ramblings of little Julek to notice. "And though it does not befit a lord either, you cannot stop me from succumbing to them."
She huffed but he caught the fond smile on her face, nevertheless. 'You can't hide from me, Janina,' he thought triumphantly.
"It appears we are missing a few of our guests. Pray tell, dear one, where's your mother?" he asked as he messed up Julek's hair while walking to his own chair.
The boy flinched at his touch and just stared at him. He was evidently angry at him for interrupting his conversation.
'Curious,' he thought, but he hadn't enough time to consider it further, because Daria started talking loudly again: "She's ill. She said she wouldn't get up all day, which is a sin, Miss Nina told me so, and that a lady mustn't indulge in laziness. But if mother's a lady, and if she's lazy today, does that mean I can be, too?"
Jaskier regarded Miss Nina with a quizzical gaze, wondering why on earth Justyna had hired such a dour and stern woman. Coming off her own experiences with nursemaids, tutors, and governesses, he would have thought her inclined to a more lenient hand.
“Uncle Julian?” his niece demanded his attention again.
"Well, I suppose you could be," he answered slowly as servants filled his plate with food he wouldn't eat, "but I assure you, your mother won't be lazy the whole day." Talking to children was as worse a minefield as any politician.
“But mother said-” she protested, and he quickly raised his hand to interrupt her.
“No, she won’t,'” he said exasperated, much too tired to deal with this whirlwind. “I'll see to it personally.” If he had to be out of bed, Justyna had to suffer with him. It hadn't been him who had cracked open that fourth bottle of wine, after all. "Also, if you're lazy you won't be able to train your swordsmanship. I was under the impression you were looking forward to them."
She gasped and nodded eagerly. "I am, I am."
"Good. Then eat up, dear one. You shall start with them today."
Józefa cleared her throat and speared a piece of bacon onto her fork. "If her teacher has the grace to show up," she remarked with a secretive smile, and plopped the food into her mouth.
He furrowed his brow and decided to try the food after all. That way at least he could blame the bile in his mouth on something else than his sore ego. ‘Not that I have any reason to feel like this,’ he reminded himself.
He had almost gotten through a slice of bread when the doors burst open and Geralt stumbled in, still closing the uppermost buttons of the crumpled doublet he'd worn the day before. Silence fell over the room as all eyes turned to him. He looked up from what he was doing and froze. Jaskier imagined he even winced when he saw him, wearing saffron yellow and not even blinking as he raised his chin a little. "My lord," Geralt broke the silence.
Jaskier took his time before he answered, his eyes still raking over his rather dishevelled appearance. Hair unkempt, sleeves uncuffed and the breeches haphazardly tucked into his boots, Geralt was the very image of what he'd liked to jokingly, affectionately even, call 'harlotry'. Fuck, there was even a line of fading love bites disappearing into his collar.
"Witcher,” he answered icily.
This time he did flinch, Jaskier was sure of it. The Viscount didn't care for it, nor did he for the sheepish look on his witcher’s face when he answered: "Please forgive my tardiness. It won't happen again."
“Don’t promise me something you cannot keep,” he whispered, just loud enough for Geralt to hear. He gave himself time to see the witcher tense up before he sighed exaggeratedly. "I fear you must be forgiven. After all, I can hardly fault you for a sin I have committed myself. Now. Shall we eat?"
Geralt stared at him unblinkingly and Jaskier could see the cogs turning in his head. His eyes flickered away from him to Janina and the empty seat next to her that was rather obviously not his. If the nursemaid and two children on its right were not enough of an indicator, the lilies of the valley that decorated it certainly were. His own chair had been transferred to the other side of Józefa and he moved slowly towards it, all muscles tensed. Only when he sat down and began eating in silence, the conversation started up again.
Jaskier tried to stomach at least a bit of the food - he knew it would help him - and drank an entire pitcher of water during breakfast while he entertained all three of his young guests with tales from his youth; pointedly leaving out any details of the particularly vicious pranks in hopes that would help circumvent a repetition.
The whole time he could feel Geralt’s stare burning on his skin, tracking the reflections of the velvet with his every movement as if he tried to scorch the offending garments off his skin. He made a point to ignore him. The shock of the revelation that the witcher liked the bright tones of his clothes still sat deep in his bones, and he wasn't quite ready to process the implications of that confession, yet. Besides, the very same day the witcher had gone and slept with Marin.
Janina was the first to leave, claiming that Jakub had asked her to oversee the repairs of the tenant’s roof. And while she certainly wouldn’t be of any help, the peasants delighted in seeing their lords’ and ladies’ faces from time to time. He was only too glad to let her relieve him of that responsibility.
The children were herded off next, Miss Nina insisting they should change out of their finery for Sir Geralt to teach them. Only Józefa remained, stubbornly trying to incite a conversation with Jaskier, who kept glaring at Geralt just as intently as the witcher. He needed all of his concentration to dodge his gaze.
“-don’t you think, Julek?”
“Hm,” he answered.
"Oh, I see.” She smiled and pushed her chair back. “Good day to you, then, brother."
With that she was gone, leaving him alone with his witcher. The silence stretched on and on and on, as they both stared at each other while trying to pretend not to. He wondered how long it would take this time for Geralt to crack. It had become a fun little game in the past few weeks, seeing how long he could tease the witcher with silence before he just couldn’t take it anymore. He was determined to find out how far he could take it for Geralt to admit he missed his chatter. If only it hadn’t left such a bitter taste in his mouth just now.
The door cracked open and Marta peeked her head through. She paled as she saw them sitting there. “Oh, Melitele have mercy,” he could hear her say faintly. “Please forgive me.”
The door clicked shut again and the interruption was finally enough for Jaskier to rise to speak; "You know, you could at least have gotten changed, witcher. This is no way to greet polite company."
Geralt shot him a look of pure contempt, but said nothing at all. Jaskier wished he would, for he could imagine a plethora of barbed comments he would've gotten as an answer so very long ago. With his never-ending string of dalliances, he had heard hundreds of them.
"Maybe I should be offended,” he said coolly, “that after welcoming you in my home and offering you my protection, you disrespect my sister and her children in such a way.”
His gaze flickered pointedly to Justyna’s untouched plate. “Maybe you should be, Lord Lettenhove.”
The words stung worse than any punch he’d taken, and it was all he could do not to physically recoil from it. ‘Fuck’, he thought and bit down hard on his lip. ‘Janina might think me our father, but I can’t.’ He averted his gaze. “I am not.”
“Are you sure, my lord? You seem awfully prickly this morning.”
‘Don’t test me, Geralt.’ “I am sure.” He wet his lips, weighing his next words carefully: “I know how much you detest mingling with company. So, I gather you’ll thank me that your absence will be excused from any further informal gatherings in my home."
"Hm," Geralt answered.
"Won’t you?"
"Thank you, my lord," he said. For some strange reason he sounded as if it was no favour at all.
With a heavy sigh he stood. "If you'll excuse me now? I've got a sister to tend to,” he said and fled the scene as quickly as possible without running. He could barely keep his balance as it was, he didn’t need an accelerated velocity to further his malaise.
He crossed over the courtyard and slipped into the West Wing, dodging a flock of servants darting from the kitchen. When he opened the door to peek inside, he was glad to find it empty. A curtain lecture from Ana was the last thing he needed.
Jaskier moved inside, collecting a tray as he went. He filled it with a hearty breakfast that made his own stomach churn, complete with a pitcher of water and a bottle of fine herb liquor he knew Justyna would appreciate. Or at least thank him later for. However, when he reached into the cupboard left of the fireplace. “Fuck.” It was empty.
He sighed and opened the next one. ‘There’s no way in hell she’s got none,’ he thought as he began his scavenger hunt for Ana’s magical powder that cured even the worst of hangovers. However, rifling through the cabinets as quiet as possible was a challenging endeavour on a good day. And today was not a good day.
He whipped around when he heard someone clear their throat behind him, wincing from more than just the pain. His head cook stood in the doorway, hands on her hips with a large wooden spoon, tapping her feet impatiently. "Ana, a wonderful morning, isn't it?"
"It is, though not for seein’ you, y’little rascal," she said with a grim expression. He tried his most innocent smile and she sighed. “Y’know, Master Julek, I noticed a lot o’ my powder went missin’ the last few weeks. You wouldn’t know where it went, would ya?”
“I fear I do,” he confessed.
She snorted, not very impressed and stirred the pot that was hanging over the fire. “It’s not that I like to see you suffer,” she said and turned to him with a soft look on her face. “But I’m worried for you, m’lord.”
“Oh, Ana…”
“Stronger men than you’ve drowned their lives in a bottle, lad. Don’ do that to us.” She shook her head stubbornly. "Now, what did I tell you about my kitchen, Master Julian?"
"That I am neither to enter it," he said sheepishly, "nor to touch anything with my dirty mits."
"Out with you, then. I have work to do," she huffed and pushed past him, and he hurried to catch up with her.
"Oh, I would love that, but alas, I fear that is simply without the realm of possibilities for me. You see, it is not me I come searching your panacea for, but my beloved sister - who is in a rather grave condition, and I plan on alleviating her from her ailment. I only need-"
"Take it." She rolled her eyes affectionately and thrust a soft leather pouch into his hands. “Take care of her, then. And of yourself, too, m’lord.”
He beamed. "Right! Thank you so much, Ana, I'll be on my way now." He looked over his shoulder to check for the last time that no-one was around and pecked her on the cheek. "Thank you."
She laughed and shook her head fondly. "Off ya go, lad. Don't come back soon."
"I won't, I won't," he promised and picked up his tray. He was about to try push the door open with his hip like he had seen the servants do, when Ana’s shriek stopped him. “Don’ you dare, m’lord, you’ll break all of the fine tableware you’re carryin’,” she chided and got the door for him. “Foolish lad, thinkin’ he’s got talents he’s got no business havin’- Marta, go with his lordship and help him with the food for the gods’ sake!”
Truth be told, he was glad to get rid of his paraphernalia. That way he could at least be sure all of his offerings would actually arrive unscathed. Marta was able to open the doors with her hip, although, he noticed even more impressed, she didn’t even need to, for she could balance the tray in one hand alone. He felt a bit stupid, actually, that she held the door to the North Wing open for him instead of the other way around.
Upon his return to Lettenhove, he had been quite surprised to find out that the oldest part of the castle had transferred its occupancy to his sisters since he had last lived here. It was also the ugliest, if anyone asked him; that whole eleventh century charm did nothing for him. In his youth, it had been Uncle Albert and his family, as well as a few other lesser cousins who had claimed it, as it was tradition.
In the past, there had been three families safekeeping Lettenhove for the Counts of Hangfelt, each of the wings the seats of these lesser houses. Minus the West Wing, of course, that had always housed the kitchens and servants. But in the aftermath of great-great-grandpapa slaying the heir of Dergetten and thus elevating the Pankratzes to nobility, he had also made sure to tie the other two houses to his by marriage and sooner rather than later, the three families had become one.
The North Tower had at least been able to retain its usage by the noble family, as home to the younger Pankratz siblings and their households once they married and reached maturity. The South Wing hadn’t been quite as lucky, as it now served as a guest wing.
‘And the East Wing is just lonely, home to none but Lord and Lady and heir.’ It always had been, as long as he could remember. But he had been terrified of Grandpa Julian as much as of his father himself. He wondered if it was something within the building that made the Lords Lettenhove so sullen and bitter. He hoped not.
Marta deposited the tray on a table next to Justyna’s door and knocked diligently. No answer followed.
“Go back to your work,” he told her quietly, “I’ll take it from here.” He knocked again, once she was away. Nothing still. "Good morning!"
All he heard was a muffled groan and took it as an invitation to step inside, careful in first opening the door, then picking up the tray and walking through. "How are you feeling on this crisp winter's morn?" he asked, far more enthusiastic than he felt as he put it down on her nightstand. Seeing Justyna huddled under her covers, her hair a mess and looking rather pale did wonders for his own hangover. There was even a little spring in his step when he crossed over the room to close the door again.
"I am dying," she moaned and buried her face deeper into her pillow. "Have you come to deliver the coup de grâce?"
"Something like that," he said with a smirk and poured two glasses of the liquor. "I come bearing more alcohol."
She raised her head and made a disgusted grimace, her face wrinkled by the impression of the embroidered coverlet she hadn’t managed to take off. "You are trying to kill me."
"I assure you; I am not. Drink up. You know it'll help."
"Ughh," she said and struggled to get into a sitting position. "Cheers..." They both knocked the glass back and grimaced.
"Eugh, I hate it…” He shuddered. “Now that that's done, I brought a real cure." He took the pouch Ana had given him and deposited a good portion of it into the pitcher.
"Is that Ana’s?” He nodded and chugged one cup immediately. She sighed and accepted hers. “You're an angel."
"Don't thank me yet.” He patted her hair gently. “For although I am your saviour, I also plan to drag you out of bed. Your daughter and son start their training today, you should be present.”
“Ughh…” She flopped back against the pillows. “You’re a cruel man, Lord Lettenhove.”
“Runs in the family,” he said with a hefty pat on her shoulder as he stood up. “I’ll send a bath up. Feel free to join me on the balustrade whenever you feel like it. Just don’t take too long.”
He didn’t go down to the courtyard immediately, for he knew his legs would grow numb if he truly intended to wait for Justyna there. Instead he tried to kill time in his study, reading a bit, drafting a letter, trying not to think about Gera-
Midday was rapidly approaching when he couldn’t take it anymore and abandoned his hiding place to go watch the training in the courtyard. As much as it made his stomach churn, he couldn’t lecture Geralt about respect if he didn’t display any either.
Maybe it would even help him to see children enjoying the lessons. While Julek didn’t seem quite as enthusiastic as the two girls he shared the courtyard with, Ciri and Daria seemed to have a great time, although Jaskier couldn’t fathom why. But they were laughing and running around and while Geralt wasn’t always gentle when berating them, he didn’t seem cruel either. Exhausted, definitely, but that was on him, and he didn’t use his students as an outlet. That was all that counted in Jaskier’s book.
Maybe half an hour into his silent watch, Janina returned from her trip into the village. He nodded to her when she passed below, hand on his sword and stone-faced. It didn’t take much longer for Justyna to finally join him.
"You look just like him," she announced her presence and passed behind him to get to his left side.
"Don't say that."
She laughed quietly and leaned onto the railing to peer at her children below. They were just taking a break and Ciri and Daria seemed to play a game that involved slapping each other’s hands. "I see you still suffer from selective blindness when it comes to the truth, brother."
"It’s more of a perpetual nausea evoked by the memories of Lord Lettenhove."
"You and me both, dearest... You and me both..."
He glanced towards her. “You look better than anticipated.”
She chortled and played with a loose strand of hair that had slipped from her hairnet. “Is that how you acquired your legendary reputation as a heartthrob, brother? My heart would break, too, if such a gorgeous man would approach me with such a horrendous compliment. ‘You look better than anticipated…’”
“Stop flattering yourself, you menace,” he grinned. “You’re thirty-three years old, forgive me if my expectations towards your appearance aren’t too high after four bottles of wine and half of my best liquor.”
“Four? Now that explains quite a lot…” She groaned. “Are we getting old, Jaskier? Gracious gods, we are, aren’t we?”
“Soon we’ll be shrivelled as a raisin and we’ll be suffering like this after four sips of wine and not four bottles,” he lamented.
“Look who’s talking,” another voice said, accompanied by the clicking of a lock. “What am I supposed to say if you two are complaining already?”
"Janina.” He couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised. “To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Curiosity, if you like." She took her place at his other side, her rigid posture a twisted reflection of Justyna leisurely leaning on the railing. "Worry, if you must know."
He sighed. "We've been here before."
"We have," she agreed, and her expression darkened even more when they heard a sharp call from below as Geralt announced the end of the break.
"I see nothing much has changed..."
"This is not about our difference of opinions, Julian. But these two are not your children, nor are they orphans."
"They are my children," Justyna chimed in, "and I requested it."
She jerked her head around to their younger sister. "And what will their father say when he sees them training with a witcher?"
"Luckily, their father is not Lord Lettenhove. So, within these walls, he will say nothing at all," Justyna quipped. "Please, Janina, do us both a favour and use the eyes the gods have endowed you with. Does he seem unreasonable? Unjust? Cruel?"
"I couldn't tell," she answered calmly, "I am not the one who was trained in sword fighting."
Jaskier could feel two sets of piercing blue eyes resting on him. "He isn't," he said quietly. In comparison to his old teachers, Geralt was almost coddling his three students; he was almost gentle, even, as gentle as one could be, teaching weaponry. It wouldn't spare them the bruises and sore muscles that came with it, but no scars children wouldn't recover from. "He's a good teacher. Lord Kerton is welcome to try to stop the lessons once he decides to give up the comfort of your husband’s home, but I won't have any of that. Neither of him nor of you."
"Don't be glum, Jaskier,” Justyna tried to soothe. “You know old dogs don't learn new tricks."
"I'm neither old nor a dog, thank you very much. And besides, I like the girl well enough."
He bit back a retort about how he had just complained about her own age. "The girl, but not the witcher."
"Don't be ridiculous, of course not the witcher."
Justyna sighed and turned to face them. "Come on, Janka, it's been twenty-four years since mother died. Don't you think you should let that particular ghost rest in peace?"
"How could she," Janina said calmly, "when she lies next to father?"
"Truer words..." Jaskier muttered.
"I'd drink to that," Justyna added, "if I wasn’t convinced it’d be my death."
"Not here," Jaskier groaned, "you'd be interred in the crypt."
They all shared a grimace of disgust. "Gods have mercy on us," Justyna prayed.
"And may they grant us all a death far away from this land,” Janina added.
Jaskier couldn't help but laugh. Before he could stop himself, he pulled them close. "It feels good to have you home with me."
Justyna put her head on his shoulder and nodded, but Janina drew away quickly. "Don't overstep, little brother. I still dislike you something fierce."
"Oh, no, that feeling is definitely mutual," he said hastily.
"We're family," Justyna said, as if that explained everything. And somehow, it did. He hadn’t had a say in who were his sisters, and while he had been able to choose another family on the Path, loving either was not a choice. They didn’t bear much resemblance, he mused as he watched Geralt help Daria to her feet; besides that, he loved them just as much, just as fervently, just as unapologetically.
‘Only that I can’t seem to get rid of them.’ But then again, he didn’t want to either. He had missed Geralt terribly and though he wouldn’t admit it under torture, he had missed his sisters, too. Even Janina. ‘If I like it or not, they are the people who made me who I am today.’
Janina slapped lightly him on the arm. "You're a horrible little brother," she accused him, and he briefly reconsidered his feelings for her. "You dipped my braids into ink and washed my silks with horsepiss. And you," she turned to Justyna and raised an accusatory finger, "slipped me a laxative when I was about to confess my feelings to my first love! And that’s not even the worst of it."
“Now that’s not fair,” the accused answered with a sly smile, “dear Julian gave you the biscuits.”
"Ohh, I remember. I did!" Jaskier grinned. "It was that dreadful young bard father brought here one winter. What was his name again?"
"Gods, I don't even recall." Janina laughed, too. "But he always wore those horrible red boots."
"Who, the one with the mistuned lyre?” Their younger sister furrowed her brow. “Wasn't he called Ian or something?"
Janina gasped. “You’re right! Ian the Ingenious Poet, he called himself.” She made a disgusted grimace. “Come to think of it, I had a horrible taste at fourteen years."
Justyna sighed overly dramatic. "We tried to tell you, dearest sister, but you just wouldn't listen to reason. He was a horrible lyrist besides."
"He was. You ripped him a new one at age twelve.” She turned to Jaskier and poked her finger into his chest. “Another reason why I despise you."
"Oh, come on,” he taunted. “You're not an exemplary sister either. I seem to remember at least one time when you stole the sweets from the kitchen and told Ana it had been me."
"Right!” Justyna jumped to his defence. “Or that you told every maid in the whole castle I was your bastard sister by an incubus and that I’d suck their souls from their bodies with a simple kiss!"
Jaskier and Janina looked at each other and burst out laughing. "Actually," he piped up, "I helped her with that. I was the one who told Marin, and he told his mother. It was a breeze after that."
"What?!" she shrieked. "Julian Alfred Pankratz, you horrible, horrible man! How could you? I expected that kind of betrayal from her, but you?! My beloved brother?"
He shrugged. "All's fair in love and war."
She huffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Well, in that case, let me tell you - that it was me who got Józefa to puke onto your first lute."
He gasped. "You didn't! That little menace, if I get her in my grasp..." Both of his sisters doubled over laughing and he joined them with no delay. A strange sight, surely, that earned them curious glances from the servants and garrison gathered in the courtyard alike. And Geralt, too, although he did his best to pretend, he wasn't staring. "Shhh, shhh," Jaskier hissed, "Marta's down there. She'd have a stroke if she saw you laughing, Janka.”
“Right, right,” his sister did his best to sober up. There was still the odd giggle escaping her lips when he looked around searchingly.
“Speaking of Józefa, where is the runt of our litter?"
Janina sighed and rolled her eyes. "Still working on her tapestry, I believe."
"Great gods," Justyna muttered, "does she ever do anything else? Every winter the same old song. You'd thought she ought to be faster by now."
"She's also writing the odd letter or two, I believe. And reading quite a lot."
"Reading?" she asked surprised and turned to Jaskier. "Since when is she interested in books?"
He raised his hands in defence. "Don't ask me. I wouldn't know. What is she reading about?"
"Flowers, I believe,” Janina answered with a frown. “And poems."
"Maybe she's in love," Justyna suggested.
Jaskier shuddered. "I don't even want to think of that possibility. My baby sister, in love..."
Janina snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. You'd already fucked yourself halfway across the continent when you were her age."
He gasped indignantly. "Janina, such language-"
"Also," she interrupted him, "she begged me to ask your leave to visit a friend for a few weeks after the banquet in Goldfurt. She promised to return before the solstice, though."
"Well, she can bloody well ask me herself," he scoffed. "Poems..."
"A few of yours, I believe. Quite a lot of others as well. I have heard the name Valdo Marx more than once."
He groaned loudly. "Dear gods..."
Justyna grinned widely and extended her hand. "Oh, she's definitely in love. Fifty crowns say she's visiting that mysterious lover."
Janina snorted and shook her hand. "You're on. I say, she's too shy for that. Julek?"
"A hundred crowns says it's a girl," he said after a moment of hesitation.
Janina raised her eyebrows and Justyna snorted. "Sure, why not? Janina, you collect the bids?"
"Who else would?" she said and turned around. "I'll go check with the garrison."
"Geralt!" a shout rang over the courtyard and made them all stop in their tracks. Marin just left the guard room and sauntered over to the witcher. They kissed for everyone to see, shoving and swatting at each other, and laughing. Loudly. It made Jaskier’s head hurt.
"On second thought," Justyna said, "maybe do it later."
Jaskier frowned deeply and turned away. 'Now that isn't fair,' he thought. He had long resigned himself to the knowledge that his feelings for Geralt would never be reciprocated. But seeing him with the first man he'd ever fallen in love with? That was a special kind of cruelty.
Janina clicked her tongue in disapproval and shook her head. He was thinking of a witty reply, but before he could come up with anything, Justyna said with a heavy sigh: "What is it now?"
"I can't believe that your witcher really bedded the Captain of the Guard," Janina chided. "It is neither right nor proper."
"Oh, please spare us your bigotry," he replied icily. "Geralt can bed whoever he likes."
"Sure," she drawled, "which is why you're so snippy about it. Besides," she crossed her arms, "he is mocking you. And you know it."
He huffed a breath and shook his head. "I don't want to believe he is."
"Unfortunately, your wishes matter not in these affairs. It is what it is, and that is mockery."
He bit down on his lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, had there not been the comforting weight of Justyna's hand on his shoulder. "Go collect the bets," she said gently. "The depths of our sibling love are quite exhausted for today."
"Thank the gods," she responded. "I thought I wouldn't be able to shake you at all anymore." With that she disappeared inside.
"Jaskier," Justyna began, but he shook his head.
"Not now, please." Thankfully her attention was diverted by the sound of rapid footsteps on the stairs and the recurring image of an energetic ten-year-old girl slamming into him. “Jaskier!” Ciri cried and hugged him tight. “Did you watch me? Did you see?”
“I did, madam,” he answered dutifully. “You seemed to enjoy yourself a lot.”
“Thank you, Jaskier,” she said and beamed at him.
“He speaks true, if I dare say so myself,” Justyna chimed in. You’ll best your master before you know it.”
Her smile grew even wider at that. ‘She’s learning to trust people again,’ he noticed with relief as they conversed almost easily. A bright spot on her head caught his attention. ‘And we need to re-dye her hair.’
“As much as I'd love for this conversation to carry on,” he cut them off, “I fear I have some business to attend to." He hadn't, but she didn't need to know.
"What business?" Ciri asked eagerly and he cursed silently. He should have known he wouldn't be able to shake her that easily.
"Financial matters, dear," he lied, "it's terribly boring."
That still didn't manage to deter her. "Can I come with you?"
"Not now, cublet. You need a bath first." 'And I need to get rid of that hangover.' "Tomorrow you may, if you're still interested. I think I've got a letter or two you might want to help me answer."
"You're the best," she said and her eyes gleamed. After a short moment of hesitation, she added, half a breath, half a whisper: "Uncle Jaskier."
'Oh,' he thought as tears welled up in his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, you won't be able to convince me like that. Run along, child, I believe your cousins are waiting."
‘Waiting’ was a nice term for ‘being herded inside by Miss Nina’; still, she ran to catch up to them. “Wait for me! I want to go to the tunnels, too!”
"Try not to damage my castle too much!" he shouted after them. "Borys, see that they don't." He turned around to Justyna, who was smiling smugly. "Really? Did you have to tell them about the Tomb?" It had been their favourite hideout as kids and now she was apparently sharing their secret with just about any child she could find.
"You're grooming her as your heir," she said in lieu of an answer. "Oh, Damian will be furious when he sees this."
Jaskier chuckled lowly. "Don't be ridiculous, Konwalia, I'm doing no such thing."
"Of course, you are! Father wouldn't even let you touch his letters until you were thirteen and everyone knew you'd be Lord Lettenhove after his death." He frowned deeply, considering her words and she laughed loudly. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you hadn't noticed."
He hadn't, truth be told. But he guessed it was true to some point. "Hm," he answered.
"But what will your fiancée say?"
"She doesn't have to know about it," he said. "Yet."
"Don't you think she deserves the truth? Don't you think your sister does? Who is Fiona really?"
He huffed and smiled at her. "I'm afraid I can't tell you."
"What, don't you trust me?" A smile danced around Justyna’s lips. It was dangerous and poisonous, just like anything else about her.
"No," he answered earnestly. "No, I don't."
Justyna laughed loudly and patted his cheek affectionately. "Smart lad. I wouldn't trust myself either. But don't think you can keep it a secret forever. There are more people than you'd like who know that Cousin Daniela died in her cradle."
He nodded slowly. 'Fuck,' he thought. "Do you trust me?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Right... I'll tell you. Eventually. Just know that right now I can't."
"And you still expect me to protect her?"
"Never.” She might be family and he might trust her with his own life, but Ciri? ‘Two people and a dead horse.’ “But I do expect that no harm comes to her from you. She is protected by the castle peace, as is Geralt."
Justyna’s eyes flared. "What do you take me for? A monster?"
"I take you for a Baroness who dabbles in politics."
"Same difference,” she said with a smirk and Jaskier was inclined to agree. "I wouldn't have hurt them regardless, just so you know. " She turned back to the door. "Not children. Not people you love.”
He chewed on his lip nervously. What on earth was he supposed to answer to that?
She took the decision from him when she said: “Come, Julek. I want to visit father's grave now."
"I have business!" he tried to fend her off.
"'I have business'," she mocked him. "Who are you trying to kid? You dragged me out of bed, so now be useful at least. As useful as you can be given your current state."
She linked arms with him and began dragging him down the stairs, out of the gates where Geralt had vanished with Marin, and towards the graveyard. "So... That witcher of yours."
Jaskier sighed. "That witcher of mine indeed."
"After your songs and yesterday's tales I have to admit I am quite surprised to find him in another's arms."
"After my songs and yesterday's tales you should know that is precisely where you should expect to find him."
“Oh, Jaskier…”
“No,” he said sharply, “don’t you ‘Oh, Jaskier’ me. I am not here for you to pity me.”
"I will do it nonetheless,” she said so quietly he suspected he wasn’t supposed to hear, before they came to a halt before the large stone monolith beneath which Lord and Lady Lettenhove had found their final resting place. Justyna untangled her arms from his and stepped forward, trampling over earth and flowers alike, to trace the engraved letters of their names. "I have to admit," she sighed, "I do feel sorry for this, mother."
"Sorry for what- Justyna!" Before he could even finish his sentence, she had gathered her skirts and crouched down. "Are you- what are you doing?!"
She closed her eyes and hummed contently; the satisfied sound accompanied by a distinct pattering that told him exactly what she was doing.
"Gods great and small, save us all," he murmured and turned his back to her. The defiling of the grave was bad enough, but he didn't have to stand witness to it.
"Ahh," she said after a while and came to stand beside him once more, smoothing out her skirts, "much better."
"Did you really have to do that?" he asked and winced.
"Julian."
"Justyna."
"I really had to do that," she said earnestly.
He huffed what might have been a laugh. "Alright then."
"Actually, I wanted to do this before even coming up to the keep, as the first act of greeting my home after fifteen years of absence. But then I thought Daria and Julian didn't need to know how terrible of a person their grandfather really was."
He couldn't help but gape, trying to process all of that. Strangely, "You haven't come home since your marriage?" was the first thing that came to his mind when he was done.
"No. You haven’t come home since going off to Oxenfurt either."
"I did last year," he tried to defend himself although he knew it was to no avail. There was a reason why he had avoided the topic until now. “Why-?”
She scoffed. "I had no interest in seeing the man who called himself our father. Not since he sold me to the highest bidder."
"Justyna, I understand your anger. But that's how things are done."
"So, you would do the same?” She whipped around to him. “You'd sell your Fiona for a dowry?"
"No!” Jaskier wanted to say something, to tell her that she wasn’t his, but not even that he could do with the nauseating memory of Count Hangfelt making his offer. “Of course not!"
She straightened herself and set her jaw. "So, you understand the inhumanity of it."
Jaskier threw up his hands. "He did it to all of us!"
"No, Julian, he didn't. Because you are here, unbound and unmarried, as is dear darling Józefa, the angel." She scoffed. "As is Jolanta in Novigrad. Only Janina and I were forced to spread our legs for men we despise and who have no qualms showing us their displeasure with their wives in turn.
"And why? Because we didn't manage to seduce a rich merchant or witcher to whisk us away. Because we had nowhere left to run but the traditions that are supposed to protect us.” She shook her head disbelievingly. “We always played by the rules, always obeyed, and what did we get in return? We were crushed by them, just like our foremothers. "
"I- I am sorry," he stammered. "I don't know what to tell you."
"Then better say nothing at all. Mutism is a blessing for the blind."
There were tears glistening on her face now, so he reached out for her. "Justyna-"
"No, don't touch me!" She batted his hand away. "You know what the worst part of this is? That I don't have any choice but to sell my own daughter as well."
"What do you mean? Your dowry-"
"My dowry! Pray tell me, where is it? All those precious jewels you see are nothing more than glass. Just... shut up, Jaskier. My dowry is long lost in whorehouses and gambling dens, squandered by my husband."
He set his jaw. "I won't let anything happen to Daria. I've got money. I can protect her."
"You can't and you damn well know it. Daria is a Kerton, just like I am. Damian can do whatever he likes with us. He ensured that when he wasted my money. And I'm going to kill him for it."
He couldn’t help his jaw dropping open. "I- He- He's your husband, Justyna,” he stammered once he had gathered himself. “Family. You can't kill him."
She scoffed and cast her eyes skyward in disbelief. "You don't understand."
"No. Maybe I don't."
Her gaze was as icy as the freezing air around them. “You don’t even try to.” With a blink of the eye she was gone, stalking back towards the castle towering above them, and abandoning Jaskier amidst their ghosts.
#my writing#of witchers bards and broken hearts#OWBABH#geraskier#geralt of rivia#jaskier#julian alfred pankratz#geraskier fanfiction#the witcher fanfiction#geraltxjaskier#geralt/jaskier#cirilla of cintra
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Some Favorite Fics from 2019
Before I dive into my list, let me send out some love to ALL of the authors who have contributed fic to this fandom this year. There are well over 300 people who wrote Schitt’s Creek fic this year, and you’ve brought joy to so many people and should be super proud of what you’ve written, whether it was only 100 words or 100k. I’ve personally read more than 6.5 million words of fic in this fandom this year, and I want to thank you all for every single one of them. <3
Now, in continuing this year-end love fest we’ve had going on the last few days, I also want to highlight some of my favorite fics from this year. I decided to cut myself off at twenty fics or we’d end up with a list too big to be allowed, lol. I also decided to limit myself to one fic per author in order to spread the love around as much as possible; there would definitely be some repeat authors on this list otherwise.
And now with all that in mind, I’ll shut up and get on with it.
Here are twenty of my favorite fics from this year and what I love about them...
this roof is a blanket by withkissesfour • rated M • 3k+
I love Patrick-centric fics. He’s such a beautiful character, but because he isn’t one of the four Roses, we miss out on a lot of his pov in the show, so I’m always here for fics that try to capture that. And this one does it beautifully, focusing on four different but thematically-connected moments in Patrick’s life.
We’re Getting Something for Free by MoreHuman • rated G • 1k+
This is one of those fics where you can see how much Patrick KNOWS David and loves him for exactly who he is. His refusal to let David villainize himself for just being who he is makes my heart so very happy.
Heart of Gold by barelypink • rated M • 40k+
I love love LOVE a good AU, but AUs based on other media can be really tricky to get right. The best ones take elements from both sources and elevate them into something fresh and new, and this fic does exactly that.
now you see me by grapehyasynth • rated T • 4k+
Did I mention that I love AUs? I never get tired of seeing them meet in new ways, and their New York-set blind date in this one just makes me smile a whole hell of a lot.
I’m All Lost (in the supermarket) by sullymygoodname • rated G • 9k+
This fic combines David “Good Person” Rose, headless mannequins, tiny cardboard houses, karaoke, ugly sweaters, and all the friendship and shenanigans you can possibly stand. What’s not to love?
I know, I’m strange, too much light makes me nervous by another_Hero • rated T • 4k+
I’m so in love with the entire premise for this soulmate AU and everything that it says about love and the choices that we make because of it.
Pizza Night by smoulderandbraids • rated M • 4k+
Sometimes you just need to read about them making pizza and making out. Thank goodness this fic exists for those times. It’s a straightforward concept executed perfectly.
cinnamon sugar... by startswithhope • rated T • 1k+
All of startswithhope’s fics have a lovely softness to them that almost seems nostalgic, like you can feel yourself missing them before you’re even done reading them. This one I think captures that feeling best and most explicitly--David’s mood here is exactly that kind of nostalgia. And his thoughts about Stevie near the beginning are something that I’ve found myself thinking about over and over again since I first read this.
On My Way by Distractivate • rated M • 11k+
As much as I love the happy place that is this show, I also really love fic that acknowledges that sometimes relationships are hard, that things aren’t always perfect, that love is a CHOICE which has to be actively made again and again and again. This fic showcases exactly that. Love isn’t always easy, but choosing to love each other anyway is always worth it.
around us by lamphouse • rated G • 1k+
This one is a simple idea, written with a soft touch, and every time I re-read it, I’m crying by the time David says “I want to stand still.”
of all the riches. by falconeggs • rated T • 9k+
Who doesn’t love a good celebrity AU? This one is as cute as you could possibly want it to be, from their first meeting to taking their relationship public. It’s just a little slice of joy.
Overreacting by codswallop • rated M • 17k+
Fics dealing with hospital visits and illnesses and things of that sort can easily tip over into whumpy territory (which is totally fine if that’s what you’re looking for), but this fic goes a different direction and manages to be funny and sweet and charming while balancing the anxiety of waiting for news. David and Patrick’s dynamic here is so good; they’re both sharp and funny and vulnerable and messy in turn, joking like normal when they can, lifting each other up when they can’t.
101 by Hth • rated E • 8k+
Like I said, I love fics that acknowledge that things aren’t always perfect, and there’s nothing more rife for imperfection than a first night spent together. Their night at Stevie’s is the perfect setting for starting to navigate some difficult conversations, especially in the wake of Jake’s unexpected appearance, and this fic does a great job of getting them through the nerves and the talking and the the stops and starts of that night. And their last two lines of dialogue are perfection.
The Sidelines by wildhoneypie • rated T • 5k+
Comedy is so much harder to write than you might expect, and I am constantly awed by how well this fic does it. It feels effortless and in-character and in line with the kind of humor that beats at the heart of the show, all while still capturing that instant, playful attraction between David and Patrick. It’s just such a fun read.
holy sick divine by earlylight • rated T • 36k+
If the tags “Strangers who Met in a Field to Coworkers to Friends to Lovers” and “Paperwork - But Make It Sexy” don’t endear you to this fic before you even start it, I don’t know what to tell you. My favorite part of this story is actually the role reversal of Patrick being Stevie’s best friend, Patrick having dated Jake, etc. That’s just one way that this fic takes everything we know and turns it on its head, and it does it with good humor and such a strange sweetness. It’s utterly unique, and the final scene just burrows down into your heart and sets up house there.
A Fair Return by thingswithwings • rated E • 237k+
This is probably the most insanely well-crafted canon retelling I’ve seen in my life. It adds so much backstory to the show and makes you rethink scenes you know intimately, which is what any good canon retelling should do. The OCs and the ways they’re carved into the structure of the story we know are where this fic particularly shines; it’s so, so well done.
my heart was broke, my head was sore by blueink3• rated M • 31k+
I think the only thing better than fake dating might be the exact reverse: having to pretend you’re not dating when you are. Even though they’re technically together, there’s just so much opportunity for pining and angst (both of which blueink3 always does SO fucking well), and this fic takes that to another level by adding in the fragile newness of their relationship and the anxiety of a family medical scare. David is so, so careful with Patrick here, and I love every single word of it.
let’s go dancing in the light by goingmywaydoll • rated G • 2k+
It was so difficult to narrow this down to one fic by goingmywaydoll because I absolutely love everything she does, but ultimately I went with her first one for this fandom. I’m SUCH a sucker for David and Patrick seeing each other before the wedding, and David having anxiety about not having anxiety is pretty much the most David thing possible. The characterization, the dialogue, the whole entire mood of the fic--it’s all absolutely spot-on. This one is everything I could ever want from wedding fic.
for feelings unbound by wardo_wedidit • rated E • 20k+
Picking one single fic by wardo_wedidit was also a near-impossible task, but ultimately I had to go with this one because it’s honestly perfect. David’s empath abilities add SO much to his characterization and the trajectory of his relationship with Patrick, and it fills this fic with so many gorgeous moments that leave you feeling like maybe there really is magic in the world--and this fic has plenty of it.
Watching Through Windows by helvetica_upstart • rated E • 38k+
Every single moment of this fic is heartbreaking in the best possible way. Reading it is like cracking yourself open and then putting yourself back together a little stronger. Watching David learn about the man he’d grown into and have to decide if he wants to (or even can) become that man all over again is simultaneously gut-wrenching and soul-healing. And Patrick in this fic--god, what can I even say about him? He’s so understanding and GOOD, even when he’s terrified and heartbroken. He is absolutely everything. Everything. This story is 100% perfection from start to finish, and the bench scene in particular is hands down the best scene in any fic I’ve read this year.
#thank you to all the amazing authors in this fandom#you've kept me plenty busy and wonderfully entertained this year#here's to even more fic in 2020!#fic recs#long post
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March 8, 2020. A message for a friend I never shared (+ mini blog post)
Routine sweeping of my google drive. Not sweeping because there’s over five hundred docs, probably (almost all of them stories + pieces of fiction + journal type thought jots + poems).
I wrote this at 12 am. It’s just over three pages long in docs. I shared it (w/o sending an email notification) to the person this was for. When I woke up and remembered what I’d done, I unshared it. I don’t think he ever saw it.
Disclaimer: I don’t have any romantic feelings for him. People have thought so and that just makes me feel awful (since he has a girlfriend). I had a crush on him when I was in seventh grade (he was a freshman). I’m a rising junior now, and he’s going off to college. An iVy lEaGuE boy <3
Writing remains unchanged except for a ‘wh’ I corrected to ‘with’ and another typo (I was really tired (+ sad) when writing this).
Hope you enjoy because I cried while rereading this.
Title in docs: it’s too late for this
Hmm I looked this over. Dumb. It’s okay. It’s 1am. I’ll chalk it up to being sleep drunk or whatever it is I go through. Or hormones. Yeah that’s it. Yeah this makes zero sense but it’s like a stream of consciousness type.
March 8, 2020
I think the word love is kind of fake now, I do. Everyone uses it so casually and I’m guilty of the same thing. Idk why I’m writing like… this.
Okay. Hi. I’m feeling a lot of things right now and, to be frank, I don’t like it. It’s strange. And weird.
One: dependence. I have friends, yeah, and one go-to friend who’s pretty much always there for me when I need her. But when I don’t need her, like in school, there are these hurtful, biting comments, these eye rolls that really really hurt. I’m just not as comfortable with her as I used to be. And I have other friends, sure, but not ones that I can rely on for everything.
But you? I think I’m a bit too reliant on you. I spoke to someone on omegle (multiple people really, but I digress), and they said not to do drugs. Wow symbolism or whatever. It’s not like you’re a drug per say, but I just have a really really really bad addiction.
You’re kind of like candy. I love it but know that it’ll give me headaches after. And in your case, or our case, it’s not like you give me a headache. It’s me. I really dislike that.
Let me start over.
I love you. More than I should. I don’t feel as much with other people. Not as many positive emotions. My family makes me really sad sometimes, my friends get me really annoyed. They both can make me feel happy, but you… you make me feel like I’m on cloud nine.
Do I know what that is? Not really. Do I care? No A little bit. I don’t like not knowing things. And yet…. I digress.
I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything about it or text me more or whatever but you are important to me. That’s it. You are important to me.
You are so important to me. I kid you not, everything you do affects me. When you say something that isn’t exactly positive, my mind reels over it for hours. If you ghost in the middle of a conversation, I obsessively check my phone. I realize this behavior may be displayed in psychopaths and yet… I trust you’ll stick with me.
Maybe it’s because you treat me so well. I’m not sure. You entertain my questions, you listen to me. I’ve been called annoying my whole life, my family tunes me out, I’ve developed the habit of talking to myself. People jokingly point out that I talk too much about myself, I talk too much in general. They think it doesn’t hurt. It does.
But you make me feel heard. Most of the time. And then other times I remember that I’m not the only thing in your life. You have other friends, a girlfriend, other priorities.
I love you so much I would never want to hurt you.
But I forget I’m not as important to you as you are to me. I care about you so much it hurts. My stomach tightens every once in a while when I text you. Not quite butterflies but something else. A snake, maybe, squeezing my insides. It makes me feel like I’m about to explode. This hasn’t ever happened to me before.
And I talk about you too. Probably too much. My friends once joked and said that if you broke up with your girlfriend it would be my fault.
I didn’t like that.
I suppose you’re on my mind more often than you should be, but I can’t help it. And maybe this sounds like a love letter— and I guess it’s because it is— just not that kind of love. A special kind. A kind I’ve never experienced before. A kind reserved just for you.
It’s really late. I’m sorry you had a bad day.
I’m not quite sure what to say anymore but I know there’s lots.
I think that you probably don’t know the effect you have on me. I don’t either. Maybe it’s because I’m going through a particularly rough time dealing with… who knows what. It’s not a simple mood swing though. I’ve been feeling… off… for ages.
Everyone says I’m so happy. I like that they think I am. I love to make others smile! And with you I’m always so negative. I’m sorry. I just feel guilty being sad with others. And I’m tired of being sad alone. I don’t like where my thoughts go. No extremes but… it’s lonely. And overwhelming.
When you’re here for me I feel like I can be myself.
But in school.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for always insisting you don’t love me. I know you do or at least I hope you do since you always say so. It’s just that whenever you’re near I want to cling onto you. You’re my lifeline. You simultaneously drive me insane while being the only thing that keeps me sane. Somewhat sane. Every time you leave, I hurt a little bit. And it’s not your fault.
I tried, for a bit, getting rid of you. Decided it was unhealthy. Unhealthy to love someone the way I love you. But I was too weak. I muted your notifications, I didn’t start conversations, I took you off my private story. It only made me check more, wait more anxiously, feel more alone. And you hadn’t even noticed. I don’t think you knew you were even taken off. That’s okay. I’m not sure what I was expecting. And it’s fine you don’t always start conversations. You kind of are now though.
When you told me you kind of missed me the other day, I smiled. Really wide.
And I remember last year, maybe. I gave you a hug and immediately you’d asked what was wrong. We barely talked last year and yet you knew. You could tell, better than anyone else. I’d spent the previous night crying, but I didn’t want you to know. I think I told a joke and you laughed.
And another time it happened, where I hugged you and you asked what was wrong. But that time nothing was. And I laughed because I realized it was so you. To maybe act like you don’t care about me but then really be there when I need it.
But sometimes it feels like you’re embarrassed of me. I’ll hug you and you’ll pull away, tell me you have to go. And I feel like a burden. Boy if I haven’t been called one before…
And I’m sorry for calling so much. It’s annoying, I’m annoying. I know. And I’m sorry.
I don't text that often.
A tedious task— just see each other at school. I prefer to call, as well, so my hands are left free and I can do other things.
But I text you a lot.
Also. When I called you. And you called me [a nickname only family + close friends call me]. And asked what was wrong. It felt nice.
But I think I’m too attached. I don’t like it. I don’t like how I say ‘I love you’ without having punched you beforehand. I don’t like how real it is.
It sounds like love, doesn’t it? Like I’m in love. Maybe I am. I think I’m in love with the idea that maybe someone really will always be there for me. But I’m not in love with you. Not like some people say.
Again, I’ve spoken about you. You’re on my mind a lot.
Will I send this to you? Maybe. It’s weird talking to ‘you’ and yet not really. I think I might share it with you. But I won't send an email. I don’t need you to know about this
I didn’t even end with a period. I shared it with him, at 1 am I believe, thinking I’d update it every so often. He wouldn’t have gotten a notification when I shared it, so I figured if he saw it, he saw it.
I would constantly tell him I loved him more and every time he argued back, saying he cared more for me, in my head I’d be screaming: “no, I love you more” because it really felt like it. Still does. I’m not sure where I got these trust issues, but they’re here and they’re mine. He wouldn’t hear me out, so I had to type it. I can tell him anything, I know that. He’s like the brother I never had except we’re not always at each other’s throats like many brothers and sisters are.
#writing#feelings#late night#thoughts#boys#love#confused#blog#life#text#texting#messaging#highschool#college#candy#dependence#lonely#night#rant#true#feel#sad#angst#brother#friend#message#share#lot#overwhelming
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how cell phones made our lives better while simultaneously ruining them
hi fam!! it’s me, again. are you tired of hearing from me? me too. that’s why I’m here to rant about social media / phone / technology. bc i hate it… but in a loving way???
everyone remembers when they got their first iPhone. seriously. why is that such a monumental moment in our lives? i can hardly remember what i felt like freshman year of high school but can pinpoint the feeling of sheer glee unwrapping my iPhone 6 in eighth grade. i have this thing that is attached to me 24/7 - when I go anywhere (even downstairs) without my phone i feel weird. that is f***ing SAD! PATHETIC. i hate feeling that dependent on what is essentially a pocket robot.
for what it’s worth - phones have done INCREDIBLE things for the world as we know it. for example, this quarantine shit has been testing all of us; and our phones are helping us get through it in so many ways. our phones let us see the faces of those loved ones we are missing, our phones provide us with stupid tik tok content to keep everything light hearted, and our phones let us check in on each other. all amazing things! when we are at school, we have instant access to our lives at home . being able to call my mom whenever i want is something i definitely abuse. “mom, I’m on my way home from Thompson right now and i think i have a brain aneurysm but my bio final is at 11am tomorrow will i make it” … an actual conversation i had with my mom at the end of freshman year. needless to say i was medicated shortly after THAT meltdown. I am such a brat that i don’t know what i would do if i couldn’t text my dad and have him immediately get me the password again to our Uverse account…… god forbid i miss an episode of the bachelor. i have this phone, and that’s what i do with it? abuse its powers to ask my parents for medical advice or a password i forgot? have we lost sight of everything here?
throughout life and especially throughout quarantine… my phone is the definition of a possession that is a blessing and a curse. I’m so grateful to have the ability to bother my friends - whenever i want! the options are endless! i love keeping in touch with people i thought id never hear from again, and being able to talk to so many people in my life and make my heart swell. now, when a conversation with someone other than my two roommates (shoutout parents) is so rare ⎯ that phone is my weapon and i use it to help flatten the curve: flatten the curve of covid19 and flatten the curve of my mental illness 🙃 [humor is a coping mechanism okay let me live] but like, i KNOW i’m not the only one that looks at my screen time and immediately wants to die. how can i honestly be looking at my phone for that long? picking it up THAT many times?????? my phone is the best distraction and also the most toxic - it makes me feel better but has a tendency to bring up all my issues and blast them into the reflection of my blue light glasses...... its called fashion look it up.
to give some examples - let’s open up my most used app: snapchat. I go on snapchat with the best of intentions - to see a memory from a year ago that makes me smile. to respond to my friends and see what their mood today is based on the look on their face. to creep on snap stories and see what everyone’s cooking and doing with their lives. somehow, tho, after spending a few minutes on the app.. i end up with a pit in my stomach most of the time. the person i want to respond hasn’t responded in 4 hours. oh god lets overthink this- they don’t like me anymore and are no longer interested in speaking to me and only respond every once in a while out of pity or because they are uncomfortable. everyone hates you. oh and GOD FORBID someone leaves me on open??! I am not funny nor interesting nor worth a reply - suddenly, i have equated my value to receiving or not receiving a photo of someone’s blank stare. this is extreme, and this is dramatic. but trust me —— this is the hamster wheel always turning in my head. I’m not even going to touch on snap maps; that feature is pandoras box and someone better fucking shut it.
second most used app is instagram. i scroll for hours, i have time limits set for the app acting like i’m actually going to listen to them and get off. lmaooooooooo. i love looking at aesthetic stuff and dogs and food and recipes and my friends’ beautiful faces. but you know what i don’t like? constant nudges to compare myself to others. oh look at her having a party with all of her friends even though we aren’t supposed to be. am i a loser for trying to be safe? oh look at her washboard abs, i’m never going to look like that and will never live up to the standard of beauty society has set for me. look at all of these people in their happy relationships. why can’t i have that? it goes over and over and over. its not like i sit there and think of these things just like that, its a precedent in my mind when i stare at everybody else that i am going to size my own life up against theirs. for years i followed every single elite model / VS angel on instagram to motivate me to do better - to start being psycho about what i did to my body so i could be as gorgeous as them. what kind of fucked up mindset is that? i would literally watch their footage of them eating rice and vegetables once a day and try to copy it. i would watch their runway walks obsessively trying to recreate them in heels alone in my house - like that was all i could imagine doing with my life. did i ever stop for a second to look at that photoshoot of gigi hadid and wonder if she was happy? wonder if the constant pictures she saw of herself ever made her insecure? what was i doing? the day i unfollowed those girls was a monumental day in my journey to a better self image. i didn’t realize the people i thought were my “motivators” were actually my triggers. i have grown to a point in life now that i would much rather eat a stack of chocolate chip pancakes that make me dance in my chair like an infant than practice my runway walk and shame my body in the mirror. and i am so freakin happy!
i could go app by app for hours. but moving on to the next thing i hate about cell phones - how they have destroyed our biological methods of communication. you hear about those psychos who think the world is destroyed by technology and we are going to be overrun by robots. but hey, I’m with the psychos on this one. i have this amazing friend, Trevor Wright, who without fail at EVERY dinner announces “phones off friends on” and collects our phones into the center of the table. yes, we are 20 year old adults. yes, we hand our phones over to Trevor and let him yell at us for trying to see if ~that person~ snap chatted us back. i have so much respect for him because of this. there is nothing worse than staring at your phones when you could be having a good conversation about life, about love, about laughter + memories, about “do you think hellen keller is real?” anything, bro, anything. anything but snapchat messaging your hoe of the week or mindlessly playing tetris to twiddle your thumbs. we all need to start loving a little harder, and the first step to doing that is to communicate better. communicate smarter. I’m guilty of alllll of the above, don’t get me wrong. and I am ADD asf and constantly playing mindless games just to stimulate my brain. but i need to stop that! even writing this is taking some time away from the dumb shit on my phone - and encouraging me to communicate how i r e a l l y feel to my homies that will read this. communication - especially body language - is fascinating. I’ve studied it in psych, I’ve learned the neurological bases of behavior and why we do what we do. I’ve learned how much our life experience impacts who we are as a whole...and it! is! fascinating! i also think that’s why i love film so much. because it can capture the raw moments of your friends just being your friends, of you just being the person you are, and the world around you just existing as it exists. i love the raw moments; and not just because indy blue posted one youtube video of her slow mo laughing and now thats the only footage i find myself shooting. 😚
im not quite sure what this post is, lol. but - just a rant on technology. so listen to me:
take advantage of technology + social media! it CAN BE GREAT. for so many reasons. but, don’t let technology + social media TAKE ADVANTAGE OF YOU. stay true to you - know how to communicate with yourself and your loved ones without the use of a robot. remember that feeling when you setup up your first iPhone? imagine if you could feel that again, with your phone nowhere in sight. if you don’t know how to communicate with yourself yet, start by journaling. WRITE! TYPE! SPEAK! do what you want. getting your thoughts down even without an audience is so crucial to understanding yourself and others. if you don’t like to write, reflect. breathe. meditate. make art. do what makes you feel at peace, and do whatever makes you feel like the world makes a little bit more sense than it does.
IF YOU ARE READING DOWN TO HERE, I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU, SAY IT BACK! LIFE IS A FUCKING HIGHWAY. AND IM SO GLAD YOU’RE ON MY INTERSTATE. <3
xoxoxoxo
gossip girl
#phones#socialmedia#rant#blog#hi#tender#loveme#quarantine#covid19#cellphones#iphone#followme!#taylor#tiktok#trending#writing
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Survey #245
“i fell asleep at the wheel again, crashed my car just to feel again.”
What is your favorite condiment to go with french fries? Ketchup.
What do you have a habit of doing when engaging in a conversation with someone? Obsess over the appropriate amount of eye contact I make.
What color is your mp3? Hot pink.
Have you ever laid in a hammock? Yeup.
Is there a song or lyrics currently super-glued in your head? "Popular Monster" by Falling In Reverse FUCK
What can you go a day without doing? Uhhh a lot? I dunno... oh, drink water because I suck at that gah. I've gotten a lot better than I used to be tho.
What can’t you go a day without doing? Touching some form of technology.
Who do you spend most of your time with? Myself.
Do you have a favorite classical composer? No.
What type of quality is a must-have in a friend? Treat others with kindness.
Are you any good at reading someone's body language? I definitely think so.
What type of art would you hang up in your room? Lol I have some of my own... but let's say it was a clean slate again. I'd put some macabre/gothic art of some sort up, probably. Of COURSE with meerkats making an appearance.
What fruit is too sweet to you? Hm, I'm blanking.
What was the last contest you have ever won: Uhhhh... I think the giveaway of two Silent Hill: Revelation things? That was forever ago.
What was the worst hair cut you have ever had in your entire life: Looking back, the haircut I had before this one (short on the left, faded into still rather long on the right) I don't really like anymore. Looks fine in some pictures, but not most.
What was the worst thing you have ever worn in your life: Oh I don't know. Probably some dance costume.
Do you like any sort of animes: Yeah, a handful. I'd honestly like to watch more.
Have you ever used someone for your own benefits: I don't think so.
What is the worst cartoon you have ever seen: Oh boy, idk. There's some dumb ones, a lot that I've only seen peeks of.
Do you like to type or write more: TYPE. Writing physically can easily make my carpal tunnel act up. I hated having to hand-write a few essays last semester... I had to stop frequently to roll my wrists and cringe and stuff.
What color would you have your skin if you could change it: I'd like pale skin like I have, but I wish it was more flawless/porcelain-ish. SOOOOOO pretty ahahhhhhhhhahhhhhh
Do you usually cook your own meals, or does someone cook for you: I usually have to throw something together in the microwave because Mom's barely home, but when she is home, she cooks.
If someone cooks for you, do you always thank them for it: YES. YES. NOT SAYING ANYTHING IS SO FUCKING DISRESPECTFUL.
What do you do during the day: Almost without question, SOMEthing on technology/usually computer. As for what I do on technology, boy, a lot a lot. I don't even feel like listing it all.
When you are online what do you normally find yourself doing: ... Oh, lmao. Uhhh binging YouTube, writing on or just checking up on KM, dA browsing/cleaning my drowning inbox, Facebook, "working" at the SH and SotC wikis, playing games, roaming Tumblr, check my emails, uhhhhhhh,,,,
What is the most hated item you own: I wouldn't... keep it if I hated it? Uhhhh yeah, I honestly don't know.
What is your favorite item you own out of all the items you have: My iPod, really. I have over 1k songs on this old-ass nano that I've had since middle school. I guess my laptop is kinda tied, but idk. Like, I don't love this laptop itself, just that it allows me to go online at a decent speed lmao. I guess they're my favorites in different ways.
So, do you think that you will get where you want in life currently: Not stopping pushing for it 'til I get it.
Why is that so. May I ask: I'm "too" determined. It's been a struggle getting to even where I am, but FUCK, I'm getting there.
Do you like Halloween: I can't fwu if you don't.
Has a teacher ever flirted with you? Not to my recollection.
Is it okay for friends to kiss each other, as friends? Personally, I think a simple peck is fine IF that's your thing and it's mutually understood that it's platonic. Ex., I know greeting kisses are normal in some cultures, and I see no reason to shame it so long you're not like making out.
Is it okay for girls to hit boys? Fuck no. Unless you're like fighting off an assailant/defending yourself, NO gender hits ANYONE.
Do you know a lot of attractive boys personally? I've never thought about it? I'm not gonna dig through all the people I know rn...
What happens if you realized you had a crush on somebody? More than anything, I'd be scared of being hurt again, particularly if it's a guy. So I definitely wouldn't make the first move.
Do you think you are attractive? No.
Which two of your friends would have the cutest baby together? I don't know.
How do you feel about your naked body? DON'T COME AT ME WITH THIS QUESTION GO AWAY
Have you ever been called obnoxious? No. At least, not to my memory.
Do you wish you had a bigger family? No, but a more close-knit one.
Which friend would you kiss full on the mouth, no questions asked? Sara.
If somebody smacks your butt, you automatically say: I wouldn't say shit, I'd turn around and smack them across the face.
How often does your family life conflict with your social life? Pretty much never.
Have you ever been emotionally abused? No, thankfully.
Do small children like you? They seem to, I guess.
If karma is really true, should you be worried? Not very.
What makeup do you wear on a daily basis? None.
Do you have anything hidden in your room? Yeah, some saved money.
What do you wish you were doing right now instead of this? It'd be great to talk to Sara.
If you had a baby, would you want to have it at home or in a hospital? Oh I'm going to the fucking hospital for that epidural fren. If I even wanted kids.
What was the last thing you ordered online? Uhhh good question.
Have you ever had a bad experience with anti-depressants? If so, what? Well, actually the entire time I was ON anti-depressants. Because I'm bipolar, anti-depressants actually ramp up the aggression of bipolarity symptoms. How, I don't recall the science of, but I trust every word that comes out of my psychiatrist's mouth for many reasons. That definitely happened. One also made me gain weight, and the worst instance was in middle school when I was briefly on one that made me SO fucking hyper and happy in the morning but I crashed into an absolute bitchy monster by mid-afternoon. Now a combination of mood stabilizers helps both my bipolarity and depression immensely and are the main reason I'm alive.
Are you allergic to any plants? I mean, I'm allergic to pollen.
Are you an outdoors person? If the weather is cool, I love it.
Does your past bother you? Some parts of it.
Do you take risks or play it safe? I tend to play it safe.
What forms of art do you like the best? This is an absolutely impossible question. "Art" has such an incredible range of forms, and I enjoy like... all. I guess the one thing I don't particularly care for is abstract art.
What forms of art do you want to try? HYPERREALISM IN DRAWING. I REALLY wanna be able to draw/paint/whatever and make it look so true to life, BUT I'd like to add fantasy aspects to what I'm making (for example, my characters). I'd love to do portraits, too. This isn't really a "type" of art, but one thing I desperately want in art is to actually develop my own recognizable style that isn't just a wobbly attempt at realism with shitty proportions.
What’s your favorite planet? Saturn's dope.
Has a medication ever made you itch? No.
What’s your favorite rainy day activity? Cuddle with snacks and like binge a good TV show/YT videos, etc. BUT considering I'm single I'ma just take a nap if I'm actually tired and you can hear the rain on the window.
Do you put creamer in your tea? I wonder how many times I'll tell surveys I hate tea lmao by the end of my life lmao.
What do you think are some good names for twins? I don't care enough to think about this.
What are three things that fascinate you? Animal behavior (particularly social), the paranormal, and genetics.
Would you say you live more in the past, present, or future? Present, I think.
Have you ever been a victim of a crime? Not me personally, no, but my family. We had our basketball hoop stolen from our front yard and I was mega tilted yo.
Does injustice make you angry? More like it infuriates me.
Do you have the bad habit of procrastinating? Very badly.
Are you afraid of running into a certain person in public? I both am and am not afraid of running into Jason. I have a very strong feeling I'd start having a PTSD episode (by that I mean hyperventilating, crying a bit, and shaking at the very least), but simultaneously I just want him to know I'm sorry.
Do you have anyone you avoid? No.
Do you have the same dreams now that you did as a kid? No.
Who’s your crush? I don't really know if I have one right now. My old friend Ian and I started talking, and he's a fucking hilarious dude with similar ethics to mine with great compassion, but I still don't know him well enough to say I like-like him. I'm honestly just happy to have an irl friend again that actually talks to me regularly.
Do you trust the government? I believe in WAY too many conspiracy theories to even try to convince anyone I trust the government lmao.
Who do you want to meet in Heaven? I don't know exactly what sort of afterlife I believe in (it's not the traditional Heaven though), but I do believe that souls can reunite. The first thing I want to see again is Teddy.
Does your school take sports too seriously? Considering we're well-respected in the sports field to the degree we draw in a huge number of foreign athletes, guess you could say yes lmao. Most of the people I even slightly know here came for sports.
If there are bruises on your body, how did you get them? There aren’t.
Would you ever go back in time to do something over again, but differently? Yes.
Where did you kiss the last person you kissed? The airport.
Have you thought about your wedding in detail? Not great detail, no.
Do you think you could ever really kill someone? In self-defense, I know I could.
Do you like Papa John’s pizza? I couldn't even guess the last time I had it. I don't remember.
Do you attend school? Yeah.
Do you call it a crush, or do you just say you like someone? The latter.
Where were you when the ball dropped? In my bed asleep lmao.
Where are your siblings? Probably all at work.
Waffles, pancakes, or french toast? French toast.
Do you ever judge people based on if they believe in God or not? Not really, but I WILL wonder to myself if you believe in some of the bullshit just about every religion has somewhere.
Are you sometimes scared to express your opinions in fear of what others might think? YUP YUP YUP! Mainly irl tho.
Have you ever painted your nails on only one hand, forgetting about the other one or getting side-tracked? No.
Have you ever gone to one of those parties where everyone is falling around drunk everywhere? No. Been to one where everyone was high, though.
Are you “the good guy”, or “the bad guy”, or somewhere in between? I'd hope the good guy.
Do you ever erase the numbers off of surveys just because they annoy you? Ha ha yeah.
Do you think you will have the same best friend a year from now? Yes.
Do you have siblings over the age of twenty-one? Yes, all but one.
What do you hear right now? "Another Life" by Motionless In White. Proud as fuck because this song was a MASSIVE PTSD trigger at first and even made me cry, but despite it still making me kinda uncomfortable, I can listen to and enjoy it now.
If an ex said they hated you, what would you say? The only three people whose opinions would matter there would be Sara, Girt, and Jason. Sara and Jason would fucking break me, while I think Girt would of course make me cry, but I just. Wouldn't be surprised to lose another irl friend. I'd be so fucking hurt by any. OH YEAH, what would I say? I think Sara would have me speechless. I'd probably just choke out, "I don't blame you," to Jason. Girt, my first instinct pondering this was "are you serious?" because he's such a joker while my stomach dropped.
What would you do if you found out your most recent ex was in a relationship? I'd be happy for her, but still feel kinda sad that it wasn't me.
What do you think when someone kisses you on your forehead? If I like the person, I feel very comforted. It like... makes me feel small, safe, and permitted to just let my emotions loose, ex. be "allowed" to cry.
What do you usually do right when you wake up? Check my phone to see the time.
Truthfully, is there someone you used to date that you miss? I don't want to answer this. Do the math.
Have you ever gotten burnt by a cigarette? No.
Do you brush your teeth right away when you wake up? No.
Have you ever made someone laugh when they were crying? Yeah.
Would you date someone three years older than you? Yeah.
Do you prefer to shower at night or in the morning? Actually as of recently, the morning. It's a nice way to start the day clean and energized.
Could you handle living with the last person you texted? I'd love to live with her.
Was the last book you read for fun, or was it for some type of assignment? It was assigned, but I loved it.
Have you accomplished any goals you set for yourself this year so far? Not really? Well no, I think I'm being a less procrastinating student and also not fleeing so quickly from situations that invoke my anxiety.
Are there still movie rental stores where you live or have they all gone out of business? SOBS Blockbuster come BACK we NEED u.
What was the last thing to annoy you or make you upset? Eh, it was stupid and something that realistically isn't worth being annoyed by. I was SUPER bored and tired yesterday waiting for Mom to finish her field work while I waited in the library after classes, and I was so ready to go home, but she stayed longer than she thought she would.
Do you think you would be a good match for your celebrity crush/es assuming you have one? Why? If you don’t have one, who was the last person you saw that you found attractive? Actually, not really. He's way too motivated and drawn to people who push forward and get shit done, and just in general at least from how I "know" him as a fan I could only realistically see us as friends. But a fangirl can dream ok just let me dream.
When looking for something to watch on TV do you tend to pick shows you know you like, or try new shows that look interesting even though you’ve never heard of them before? I'll answer hypothetically if I watched TV: probably something I know I like. Might get adventurous every now and again and try something new, though, especially if it's on a channel I like.
How old were you when you had your wisdom teeth removed? I haven't had to. I juuuuust slightly have enough room where I DID have them grow in.
Where was the last job application you filled out sent to? Uhhh probably the deli, which I got and lasted for two hours my first work day lmao.
Have you ever been fired from a job? No.
What do people tell you your voice sounds like? I dunno, kinda deep for a girl and lacking an accent most of the time.
What financial class are you? Lower.
What poster is hanging closest to you? A huge Nightmare Before Christmas one.
Are you more comfortable with men or women? Women.
Would you go on a date with someone right now if they asked? Maybe if Ian did? Idk. It'd be a nice way to get to know more about each other, but I'd only agree to it after we talked a bit longer.
Does your family keep tons of leftovers in the fridge? Not "a ton." Things we'll eat again though, yes.
Favorite FRIENDS character? That is, if you like it. I haven't watched it.
Are you thinking of getting another piercing? Where? Hell yes. Pretty sure next is collarbones if I could just lose a little bit more weight so they're more visible.
Do you love when people remember little things about you? YES OMG!!!!!!!!!!
Do you ‘bless’ strangers when they sneeze? Yes, I just think it's common good manner. Even though the reasoning behind it is whatever, it's a societal thing that I just go along with.
How many phones have you gone through? Idk, not too many.
Have you always lived in the house you currently reside in? No.
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This Shouldn’t Hurt This Bad
Ship: Bucky x Black Reader (Not explictly black)
Word Count: 1.2K
Angst with a happy ending!
A/N: This is my first fan fiction in several years so take it easy but I would loveeeeeee feedback. Also not edited so ignore any mistakes.
It seems like the rain had been pelting the windows for days. Maybe it was all part of her imagination. These days it seems like everything has been running together. She knew that her feelings were mainly her fault but she still couldn’t help the sinking feeling in her heart when she thought of him. It didn’t help that everything seemed to remind her of the man who she decided to push away. The sheets still smell like him and she gave up on trying to get it out. It brought her comfort.
“Why are you determined to get me away from you? Huh?” He screamed while on the verge of tears. The thing is she knows why she is pushing him away. She doesn’t feel worthy of him and his love.
“I just feel like you should be directing your energy somewhere more important” She responded calmly even though inside she was breaking.
“ You don’t think you’re important to me? You have become the most important thing to me, how do you not see that?” He said letting the tears fall freely at this point.
She shakes her head trying to get his heartbroken look out of her head but it seems engraved at this point. She didn’t think it would hurt him. She thought that she could leave and he wouldn’t be affected. She decides that being cooped up in this apartment wasn’t doing her any good. She grabs her jacket, shoes and keys and leaves. She gets in her car and just sits. She breathes in the rain coated air around her and sudden;y feels the calmest she has felt in days. Her thoughts drift to a better time with him.
The blue duvet is pushed back as she starts drawing shapes into his back. This was something that relaxed her, to know that he is still here with her. To know that he is still breathing. When she felt him start to move, she retracts her hand. She felt as though she shouldn’t be doing it, doing this with him, being so close and getting used to the compassion he gives her. She knows how it always goes. She gets attached and then they hurt her and leave.
“What are you thinking so hard about, doll?” He asks as he turns to face her. He takes this time to take in her beautiful features. He does this every morning. He doesn’t know when they are gonna call him for another mission, so he likes to commit her face to memory. Her eyes are his favorite. Pools of deep brown that can change his sour mood the second he sees them.
“Nothing. Just you.” She says as she shines her million dollar smile at him. He takes this chance to give her a quick kiss.
“What was that for?” She said.
“Just cause, sweetheart” He flashes a quick smile
She turns the ignition and began driving. She didn’t realize that she was crying until a teardrop hit her arm. This hurt so bad. Especially when she was constantly seeing his tear stricken face when she closed her eyes.
“There are so many more important things. I can’t possibly be the most important thing to you.” You are constantly saving the world and I am stuck here.” She exclaimed. She knows that missions are a sore spot for him and if she had to get him to hate her. She had to hit his sore spots.
“ I am suffering here too but I don’t feel like it is as important as you and your nightmares, so I have to hold it all in. Bucky, I am constantly tired and it feels like you aren’t really there for me like I am for you. I’m sorry but I can’t be the only one trying here.” She yelled. She knew that he gave her all the extra time he had and was very attentive to her feelings. She knew this was a lie.
She knew where she was going now. It would take a little while to get there but she needed to see something. She was ignoring so many different traffic laws but she can’t take this anymore. She felt a shift in everything since that night. Nothing felt right. Nothing tasted right. She wanted to at least try this.
“I’m sorry , love. I had no idea. You don’t have to hide from me. Like I said you are the most important thing to me.” Bucky reached for her but she steps to the side. She wraps her arms around her body and then simultaneously breaks both of their hearts with one sentence.
“ We should go our separate ways, Buck.” She explained with tears in her eyes. It felt like his world had just shattered.
“ Whatever you want , doll. Just remember that I love you.” He then grabs his things and makes his way out of the door. It was a miracle that she held her sobs for that long. She falls to the floor and the only thing she can say is,
“What have I done?”
She parks her car in front of the building and just stares for a while. Was she sure that this is what she wanted to do? She wasn’t 100% sure but she knew that she had to attempt to fix it. Breathing in deep, she pushed the car door open and began walking up to the tower’s entrance. She was surprised when the gate opened for her. By the time she made it up to the door, she was greeted by Steve.
“ Oh thank God. He has been locked up in his room for the past week. He is so miserable and absolutely nothing will get him out of his room. I am guessing you are here to talk to him?” Steve said with this pleading look on his face.
“That is exactly why I am here” She said with this new rush of confidence. Steve leads her up to Bucky’s room and then turns back to her.
“ Like I said earlier, he has been miserable and literally has not left his room for anything at all. So be careful” He turns back and tells F.R.I.D.A.Y to open the door. Once she was let inside, Steve left the same way they came.
“Bucky?” She said with concern littering her voice.
“Steve, stop doing that please” Bucky said with so much sadness in his voice that her chest constricted.
“No Steve, it’s just me.” When she said that Bucky sat up so quickly and looked at her in disbelief.
“Why are you here? You wanted to go our separate ways remember?” Bucky spit.
“ I know I said that but I pushed you away because every time I let a man in my life, I always get hurt. I thought maybe this time I would hurt you before you got the chance to hurt me. Looking back it was stupid to do.” She said genuinely. Bucky just stared at her for a couple of minutes.
“ I missed you so much.” Bucky finally said after a couple of minutes. He got out of bed and enveloped her in a hug.
“ I missed you too. I feel like you also missed the shower.” She said in a teasing manner. He looked over at her sheepishly and just started laughing.
“ Yeah maybe I did.”
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time war 2 live reactions because i actually wrote down my thoughts + feelings as i was listening and there sure were a lot of them
havoc
narvin being simultaneously delighted that romana is exonerated and disappointed that now he has to be deputy again is wonderful
i really can’t quite figure out livia. it seems like maybe she’s starting to regret resurrecting rassilon but also she’s fairly secretive? not in a devious way though idk i can’t read her.
“you mean i’m old.” did i ask to be implicitly reminded that this is narvin’s only life? no i did not.
i love romana and narvin so much ughh. this conversation where he admits that he’s embarrassed about losing his footing and criticizes himself for not being cut out of field work and says he’s just so tired, and romana just listens and is there for him and her soft voice when she says “you could have died” and her gentle laugh and “nonsense” when he’s hard on himself, plus their chat about their families... my heart!!
livia: “if you and i keep meeting like this we may end up becoming friends.” listen i’m not opposed
“if i were a less reserved time lord i could kiss you.” wait wait wait narvin?? what??
“i’m also aware how protocol gets in the way.” yeah narvin break the rules i believe in you
narvin talking about how much rassilon scares him and he’s just quietly freaking out so much ahhhhhhh @ the universe give him a break!!
i did not expect to actually care about trave and also i didn’t expect him to be so abruptly executed — but it does show how serious things are
i so badly want romana and livia to work together!! (livia you made a terrible mistake last boxset but you know what so has everyone else at some point in this range you definitely get a second chance in my heart)
romana is down to fight hell yeah
partisans
romana: i don’t want you to go / narvin: i want to go / romana: ...okay
romana gave in with surprisingly little argument considering she is known to be stubbornness incarnate. i’m not complaining it’s just interesting.
(also don’t think about romana trying not to be terrified every time he goes away, terrified that he, like leela, like ace, is not going to come back and she’ll be completely alone)
all these references to how old narvin is are stressing me out. i know he doesn’t die in this boxset but like...what are you doing here
oh i really hope livia stands up when it counts
narvin cares so much about saving lives, protecting this planet — he’s truly grown so far from where he started in weapon of choice when he didn’t care about so-called “collateral damage.” gosh i love him so much
side note there hasn’t been enough angst and pining about leela this box set...i am here to be whacked in the heart with feelings please get on this
collateral
dammit livia you’re rooting for genocide now? i wanted to believe in you, do something to stop this!!
“i can almost understand it.” “...i’ll pretend i didn’t hear that.” in this conversation narvin is remarkably poised and emotionally distant considering it was his time lock that broke and also how desperate he was in the last episode
oh eris went to warn them! he’s a good one, @ romana and narvin you can keep him
“the cia is in defiance of its president.” “well, someone needs to be.” HELL YEAH NARVIN
i’m going to personally fight livia
I WILL DEFINITELY FIGHT RASSILON i should have seen that coming but i didn’t (and even after romana figured out that he was the one who broke the time lock it took me a few moments to catch on) and he is the actual worst but mantus and livia SURE ARE UP THERE
no please let knyla make it!! NO!! KNYLA!!
AND NO ONE GOT AWAY i mean i guess i kind of expected that was how this story was going to go because i know romana tries to assassinate rassilon in the next one and this definitely sets up her motivation but god this is just so, so horrible
and only knyla’s voice lives on...
romana is quietly sympathetic to the fact that eris fell in love with this girl from another world who he then lost (and not to make everything subtly about romana/leela but listen...let me have my feelings okay)
and romana sends him away to keep him safe they really are still losing more and more friends
DALIA TOO DID THEY OUBLIETTE HIM wait no they still remember him he’s just gone
is there anyone left for romana and narvin other than each other??
“RASSILON MUST DIE!” oh big mood
assassins
hey don’t throw jabs at the academy that’s rude
side note: did they say all non gallifreyan students will be expelled? does that mean there have actually been non gallifreyan students there all this time? i was never quite sure what exactly ended up happening with the academy after series 6 (did ace go to the academy specifically or did she somehow just join up with the cia? i can’t remember) so it’s nice to get some context
“i imagine spending your entire life sitting on the fence is extremely uncomfortable.” drag her!!
oi you don’t get to throw out leela (and ace’s) names like that you asshole
so they have been having secret meetings about their friends, good i was getting worried. i’m glad to hear they know brax did something, and also the softness in their voices when talking about leela i’m!!!!
oh hearing this conversation through a recording but not knowing who exactly is listening is very chilling
romana i believe in you
“we’ve come this far together. will you really abandon me now?” “leela supported you, look what happened to her. i said not to involve the master --” “are you blaming me for that?” “no, i --”
THE ACTING IN THIS SCENE
there are so many subtle nuances and emotional layers here it hurts but it’s so good!!
“i wondered how far you would follow me. it seems i’ve found the bridge you won’t cross.” i don’t think she’s ever brought up narvin’s intense loyalty so explicitly wow
truly that entire romana/narvin scene in the mountains was an absolutely stunning performance
hey mantus don’t come at the cia — also is he trying to seduce narvin to the dark side yeah like that’ll work OH NO ARE THEY GOING TO OFFER HIM REGENERATIONS BACK OH NO I’M HAVING FEELINGS
narvin would never betray romana but that just means this is going to hurt
also side note i still haven’t gotten an answer as to whether or not romana Knows about what narvin did in ascension (and why)
ohhhh narvin’s fear of rassilon vs his love for and loyalty to romana oh this is so much
oh....rassilon Knows
does the fact that they straight up talked about the end of ascension mean something beyond this scene though? is it going to get brought up to romana? or does she already know and i missed something?
you can’t drive romana and narvin apart rassilon it’s never going to work
MANTUS how dare you dangle ace and leela in front of narvin like that!?!? (also side note: earth is in a time lock!?)
livia AT LAST (and oh it was her watching them earlier!)
no narvin don’t ruin this!! (also please tell me you’re okay)
oh come on livia don’t lose your conviction now
is rassilon really being nostalgic for the old times of cutthroat betrayal? ...yeah sounds about right
oh interesting is rassilon going to regenerate?
“you would really give up your lives for her.” “narvin...” “i’ve done it once. it was somehow easier the second time.” “i could never have divided you.” DAMN RIGHT MANTUS also i’m so emotional i can’t believe narvin actually said that in front of romana
also how romana tries to shield narvin from blame in that scene
and yet again...dammit livia
“i failed.” romana fought so hard this boxset to make things better and got up every time she was knocked down, and it’s so devastating to hear her finally give up and break down
“i don’t have a home.” she’s fought so hard and this is how it ends — exiled in disgrace from gallifrey...i love her so so much and my heart is breaking for her
i knew generally how time war 2 ended but truly this is an incredible launch point for the next box set FEBRUARY WHEN
#gallifrey audios#oh dear this is long and rambling#this is like 10% side character and plot stuff#20% my emotional rollercoaster re: livia#and 70% being extremely emotionally compromised over romana and narvin#individually and together#emily listens to big finish#ramblings#narvin#romana#livia#eris#rassilon
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Siegemas 2018 Day 9
Kapkan/Glaz oneshot in which their opinions differ while they’re out hunting. (Rating G, fluff, ~1.6k words) - with the prompt: “How many Christmas sweaters do you own?”
I’m substituting in for someone else, so I apologise for the delay! :) I’m loving this event and can only once again invite everyone to check out all the great fics already written, easily available at @dualrainbow!! 💞💞 Thank you to everyone who’s making this possible ♥
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Finally stumbling across what looks like relatively fresh tracks is an immense relief. After almost an entire week, even Kapkan’s enthusiasm has dwindled to a low simmer – trudging through thick snow, saving his companion from repeatedly smacking himself in the face with branches and eating canned food gets old after a few days, as does sleeping out in the cold (though they only attempted it once before admitting that returning to one of the camps scattered around the area is the more reasonable choice). They’re trained to survive at these temperatures and could easily cope, that’s not it, yet they’re here for fun and therefore would prefer to separate pleasure from work – whatever that entails. In this case, it’s worrying about their noses freezing off and praying their fingers won’t be too stiff to take the shot once they actually come across their intended target.
If asked two weeks ago, Kapkan would’ve held a heartfelt speech about hunting being his favourite pastime by far, allowing him to rest his mind, sharpen his senses, in a way grant him a reset. Ordinary worries pertain not to the realm of broken twigs, soft imprints in the ground, movement in the distance; these are the times he can really let loose, his thoughts as focused as a bloodhound smelling injury, a hunting dog going on point, and yet strangely free simultaneously. He wouldn’t explain this part, but he feels one with nature when he tracks another living being down, triumphs over it eventually and then makes use of it to feed himself. Wild game tastes vastly different to normal meat, provides its own seasoning based on its diet, can be sweet or possess an intrinsic herbal flavour. The whole process is almost sacred to him.
“Thank God, let’s shoot this clumsy deer and then go home”, Glaz moans from behind him upon spotting the hoof prints and leans against the nearest tree trunk, almost so hard that he upsets the masses of snow precariously balancing on the larger branches further up.
Kapkan turns to him with a scowl. “It’s a moose. And I told you it’d take a while, they’re elusive – especially at this time of year.” His friend is still panting and wordlessly rolling his eyes at him, presumably at his correction. He’s well aware of what they’re hunting even if he’s thoroughly tired of it. “And you’re still walking wrong, that’s why you’re exhausted now.”
“Am I also wearing the wrong colour?”, Glaz jokingly wants to know though it’s probably only half-amused. Kapkan is aware of his own persistent nagging. They haven’t been talking much the past few days on account of Glaz largely complaining and Kapkan harshly reprimanding him for it whenever they do. A few times, he felt as if the atmosphere shifted between them from a comfortable to a slightly hostile silence, yet Glaz always returned to his usual, cheerful self at the end of the day.
Humouring him, Kapkan decides on a display of goodwill and retorts: “Show me and I’ll tell you.” Glaz’ wide grin is met with a glare when the sniper reveals a horrendously tacky, apparently knitted piece of clothing. “Really? How many of these do you own?”
“Christmas sweaters? Enough to last me a week without wearing the same one twice.”
In Kapkan’s eyes, it’s yet another gap between them, another obstacle. He despises everything to do with Christmas, courtesy of the entire holiday being nothing but a thinly-veiled commercialised and capitalistic disgrace – especially the way it’s celebrated in the West, where it’s about whose parents gave whom the most expensive gifts. In Russia, it’s celebrated two weeks later and focuses more on the familial aspect and on a feast rather than spending money to disappoint relatives.
And Glaz inexplicably adores it, adapting traditions from all over the world and endorsing them together with other operators, wanting to visit the German Christmas markets, placing elves on the shelf everywhere, expressing his enthusiasm for eggnog and Christmas pudding, insisting on putting up several Christmas trees around the base.
Their views are incompatible and almost make Kapkan regret bringing him along, partly because Glaz references the cursed holiday often but also because his friend is going to miss more than a week of pre-Christmas cheer, instead opting for this particular miserable existence. Maybe he agreed to come along out of politeness.
“We don’t have to shoot a moose, you know”, Kapkan announces out of the blue, earning a confused glance from Glaz who was busy adjusting his snowshoes after having zipped up his jacket again. “We can leave if you want.”
“What? No, I’m having fun!” The other man must notice the doubt creeping into Kapkan’s expression as he adds: “Really. I’m sorry if it didn’t seem that way, but I like it. It’s been too long since I cleared my head a little. And I’m not leaving without a trophy.”
“Are you sure?”
Glaz flashes him a small smile. “Yes. I’m sorry for complaining. Let’s follow the tracks, shall we?” Once they’re on the move again, shuffling side by side, the younger man speaks up again: “I’m glad you asked me to come along, I know how much this means to you.”
His heart skips a beat and he has to remind himself that Glaz means hunting and not his own presence, though he would’ve been correct on both accounts. Fortunately, Kapkan manages a neutral: “Do you?”
“You used to do this with your uncle, right? And you keep saying how it’s your favourite. Besides, your best stories are about inexperienced idiots making the stupidest mistakes on the hunt, so I’m proud you made me the offer of accompanying you.”
As always, his honesty is disarming and leaves Kapkan at a loss for words. He fails to understand how Glaz can say these words so easily, have his feelings lying on his tongue, make himself so vulnerable. Kapkan is concerned, confused, and… and a little envious. Maybe he could make an attempt himself, reveal that which occupies him so much it takes a toll on his mood and causes him to be curt with the one man with whom he’d like to speak for hours. I don’t know how to talk to you, he would tell him, but your presence calms me. I want to understand you but I don’t know what to ask. I’m glad you’re here but worried you’re not enjoying yourself.
It’s impossible. Blood gathers in his cheeks at the mere thought of being this direct and yet, he’s determined. “What do you like so much about Christmas?”, he eventually gets out: a weak peace offering.
Still, he must’ve done something right since Glaz’ face brightens. “All of it”, comes the passionate yet unhelpful reply. “I love picking out the best gifts for people, there’s just so much fancy food but most of all, it brings people together. When I ask them how they celebrate Christmas, they’re usually stoked to show me and readily let me be a part of it. I think it’s the fact that it’s about sharing, whether it’s meals, presents or just happiness.”
Kapkan mulls it over. Granted, when put like this, it sounds like the best of all worlds, though he remains doubtful nonetheless. “I’m not convinced it really is as selfless as you claim it to be.”
“Oh, I think it is. Julien’s entire extended family comes together to celebrate and he didn’t hesitate for a second to invite me as well. He said his parents are always glad about more guests, so I’ll actually spend one Christmas in France and one at home.”
This is the first he’s hearing of this. Of course, he was aware of the two younger men being friends yet didn’t think they were this close. The previous year, all the Spetsnaz operators (among a few others) remained in the base and on call, allowing everyone who celebrates the holiday two weeks earlier than them to return home. He assumed it’d be the same this year, was looking forward to the less hectic air. Was looking forward to some more time alone with Glaz.
“I see”, he responds non-committally.
“You know what, why don’t you come along as well? The more, the merrier. I’m absolutely sure Julien won’t mind and that way, maybe you’ll change your mind about Christmas.” Glaz nudges him, the place of contact tingling for a few seconds. “And isn’t it only fair? If I waded through the snow for you, so you’ll have to survive celebrating this holiday with me.”
The offer is tempting, he can’t lie to himself, though part of him is still wondering how much of it is a sense of obligation or genuine offer. Glaz might feel like he owes Kapkan, and in that case he shouldn’t -
“I’d be really happy if you joined me.”
Kapkan almost stumbles over his own feet. When he turns to his friend, he’s watching him with an expectant, hopeful look in his light blue eyes, eradicating any shred of uncertainty Kapkan still might’ve had. He’s being earnest. Glaz would be really happy.
Quickly, he averts his gaze again before his embarrassment shows, grumbles a reluctant yet affirmative answer and can’t help but smile secretly when Glaz immediately expresses his enthusiasm, even shakes him a little in contagious excitement. While they continue stalking their moose, Glaz chatters on about all the things they’re going to do, all the songs they’ll inevitably hear, all the people they’ll meet, and maybe Kapkan’s perception is flawed but he thinks they’re walking a little more closely than before.
It’s possible Christmas really isn’t so bad.
#rainbow six siege#kapkan#glaz#kapkan/glaz#fanfic#oneshot#tell me a beaming glaz in an ugly sweater doesn't warm your heart#as does a blushing kapkan#you two better learn french just saying
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