#sorry not sorry for enjoying meg Being The Worst
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So I've been reading toa and I'm nearly done with the burning maze and one thing that sticks out to me is ... All the characters HATE Apollo 😭 I genuinely can't think of a single character who seems to like him or enjoy his company or has been nice to him so far. And in the beginning it made sense because he was honestly insufferable but by this point he seems to have learned a lot of humanity. I mean he literally sacrificed his life for his friends about two or three times in this book already and absolutely no one cares 💀 maybe it's just me but I feel like no one likes him and that's sad
anon i totally get what you’re saying and I think TBM is the worst offender when it comes to Apollo’s happiness and health and friendship. Rick Riordan was sooooooooo wrong and will not see the pearly gates for not making a bigger deal of Lester sacrificing himself. But you must remember that:
1) Apollo is a very unreliable narrator and, despite pretending to think everyone adores him, he is actually very insecure and anxious about being liked. He takes any and all reactions that are not a 100 thousand % happy and joyful as annoyed and antagonistic. If the people that he seems to think dislike him actually disliked him, he would never get anything done: I can’t think of a single character who got as much help as him. Considering how much of an asshole he used to be, that’s a pretty big deal, and he does have a talent for earning the loyalty, or at least the allyship, of people who used to resent him pretty easily (Leo, Calypso etc).
2) I know it’s brutal out there, but don’t forget some people canonically and explicitly like him! Leo, Meg, Rachel, Nico (okay, I’m pushing it with calling it canonical, but I really do think so), his children, Chiron (somehow), Harley, Crest. Keep in mind that you have two books left to go and you’ll get to meet some really nice folks. Even Piper, before the mess happened, seemed to enjoy his company. It’s not so bleak :)
3) Demigods just have a different way of showing love and are hardened, sarcastic people who also happen to be middle schoolers and teenagers (the meanest motherfuckers you’ll ever meet). For example, it’s canon that Meg ADORES him and would die for him yet she treats him the way she does almost all the time (you will get too see occasional moments of honesty and vulnerability from her as you go on). I just don’t think they hate him because they poke fun at him or tease him, even when it gets a bit mean. Which brings me to the last point.
4) Demigods and magical creatures have big, legitimate reasons to hate and resent the gods. I do think some of them are mean or dismissive towards Apollo as retribution, and as much as I’m defensive over him and I wish they STOPPED, it’s realistic. If anything, we should focus on how impressive it is that Apollo manages to survive so much shit and earn as many allies as he does as a mortal when he literally acted like The Worst Person Ever for so long. It speaks to his real character, and shows how much he really is a People Person even when he’s not trying hard.
Sorry for the essay anon (🫣) and I hope my answer satisfied you!!
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Heyy can i request jealous!Tom seeing reader with someone else and misunderstanding the situation? ❤️❤️
"Tom, why did you tell us Y/N couldn't hang out with us tonight?" asks Harrison, taking a sip of his beer.
"Her best friends just came into town this morning and she's catching up with them." Tom answers.
"So why is she over at the bar with some guy?" Harry wonders.
Tom swears he feels someone punch him in the gut as he follows his friends' line of sight. Sure enough, you're sat at the bar with a slightly taller guy, both of your backs to the boys' usual booth in the corner. You tip your head back laughing and the hurt turns to jealousy in Tom's stomach.
"I- uh-" He falters. "I don't know." he whispers, hanging his head.
"Well why the hell are you just sitting here, mate?" Tuwaine rolls his eyes. "Go up there and get your girl back!"
Tom downs the rest of his drink, scooching out of the booth. He jogs over to the bar, wishing he'd just asked you to stay in with him tonight. Being oblivious would surely be better than this feeling.
"Y/N?" He says quietly. You don't hear him, but the guy you're with notices and nods hello in his direction.
The absolute nerve of this guy!
You turn around, mouth falling open at the sight of Tom.
"Tom!" you say. "What are you doing here, I thought you were all going to Tuwaine's tonight?"
"Clearly," Tom mutters. "We had to get out of the house, 'cause T was just getting more depressed about breaking up with his girlfriend. But I just want to say, I think cheating is one of the worst things you can do to a person. Aside from murder or something-"
"Tom, honey-" you try but he's on a roll now.
"If you didn't want to go out with me anymore I wish you'd just told me." He says sadly and your heart twists.
"TOM!" you intterupt. He blinks at you.
"This is my friend Anthony, remember?"
Now that he's looking closely, Tom realizes he does look a little familiar. And actually he does look a lot like your friend Anthony, he's just dyed his hair a different shade.
"He and Meg arrived this morning, remember?" you continue. "Meg's with us too but she's gone to chat up that girl in the corner," you point and Tom sees your friend Meg chatting with someone else at another table. He also notices the seat next to you, a woman's jacket hanging over the back as if the third member of your group is coming back soon.
"Oh," is all he can say.
"Tom, did you really think I'd cheat on you?" you ask sadly.
He shrugs, avoiding eye contact.
"No. I just, the boys saw you and-"
"What have we said about letting the boys jump to conclusions?" you ask, and Tom chuckles, wrapping an arm around your seated figure and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
"I'm really sorry, okay? Sometimes I just can't belive you'd want to be mine and I get a little crazy." Tom admits.
You wrap your own arm around him, squeezing his waist to show he's forgiven and looking around him to glare at the boys who look guilty, seeing the situation was not what they originally thought.
"I only wanna be yours, honey."
・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆
tysm for reading ! if you enjoyed please consider reblogging <3
#tom holland x you#tom holland x reader#tom holland x y/n#tom holland fluff#tom holland angst#tom holland blurb#tom holland x famous!reader#tom holland fic#tom holland smut#tom holland smau#tom holland one shot#tom holland imagine#peter parker#nathan drake
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No.42 Chapter 5
Art Donaldson x reader slow burn friends to lovers
As always I hope you enjoy! 🍉✨ My taglist is always open
Part 4
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‘Pass me the sauce now bitch!’
Patrick responded by throwing a pillow at your head. Mature.
‘You’d never talk to Art like that.’ He looked amused for a moment, a smirk brewing as his eyes darted from Art’s face to yours. The three of you were eye deep in miso sauce, spring rolls and pad thai - Art’s treat. It was almost strange, seeing Art eat take out in your cosy flat knowing he probably had a maid growing up. You’d once heard Liam say Art’s parents place was obnoxiously bigger than even Tashi Duncan’s, as if you needed further convincing of his affluence.
Still, he was settled. He seemed it. He always thanked you for washing up or tidying, if he wasn’t offering or doing it himself, as if he was content with living lesser than his other peers. Of course they all had maids for the sort of things you and Patrick did, or pretended to do on lazy days, but Art never announced judgement. Besides his constant bantering with Patrick and the occasional dig at you for not being too sporty, Art was always pleasant. Pleasant or impressively good at bottling things in.
‘That’s because Y/N,’ Art raised his eyebrow at Patrick’s smirking face. ‘Actually has manners, she just doesn’t waste them on you.’ The pair beamed at each other, as they always did when they were ‘arguing’ over you. It was almost expected for you now, owed even. You loved it.
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‘I don’t get this movie, why’s it just talking?’
You’d decided to put ‘When Harry Met Sally’ on as a break from the constant tennis. The background drum of your life had become the incessant whacking of tennis balls, if it didn’t make Art so content you’d have quickly deleted SkySports.
Patrick half watched half texted his now ex girlfriend back, to your dismay. It wasn’t long before he’d finished his food, shovelling it in like an animal as always, and announced he was going to bed. He ruffled your hair in his brotherly way before returning to his room. The door had barely closed before Art paused the movie from his spot on the floor.
‘Do you agree?’
You looked down at Art’s inquisitive face and the charming face of 80s Meg Ryan, knowing what he meant. Harry had just made his ‘men and women can’t be friends’ speech. You shoved the blanket off your hot legs to escape the extra heat and settled into your couch position comfortably.
‘Do you see me fucking Pat?’
Art grinned widely, almost boyishly, at your remark. You noticed he seemed to get almost giddy whenever you were a little crude, like you both intimidated and entertained him simultaneously. He hung his head, still smiling, before shaking it. ‘No but just - just tell me. I wanna know what you really think.’
No man ever wanted to know how you really thought more than Art. He’d asked you more about your beliefs and emotions than a reporter on the cusp of ‘making it big’. You seemed almost to be his scoop, his challenge, his big win but you wondered what would happen when you ran out of answers.
He was waiting for you to speak. Eager. You cast your mind back to all of your past male friendships, the times they hit on you unexpectedly or bullied you to ‘flirt’ or worst of all: told you they’d never seen you as a friend at all. That one always hurt. Most of those friendships had hurt and most of them had left Patrick waving the ‘not all men’ flag proudly as he stood victorious. The last man standing. Your last good, platonic best friend.
‘You can ask all you want Donaldson, I don’t see Patrick that way.’
He wasn’t completely satisfied with your answer, or he made sure he wasn’t just to encourage his own bad behaviour.
‘Not once? You’re telling me you two never had too much to drink or got dared? Not even spin the bottle when you were like 14?’
‘Sorry to disappoint.’
He looked elated and horrified all at once. The man was desperate and for a moment you couldn’t tell if he was devastated more for Patrick or for you.
‘What made you turn the poor guy down?’
Oh. For Patrick.
‘What makes you so sure he asked me out? Didn’t you watch the movie?’
Art finished his last spring roll, shaking his head. ‘I watched the movie that said ‘men and women can’t be friends’ a hundred times.’ He crossed his legs, his baggy t shirt exposing his collarbone. Ashamed as you were, you couldn’t deny the urge you had to just bite and kiss him. That made your following question all the more ironic.
‘So you don’t think men and women can just be friends?’
You made sure to ask it in such a way that implied he was wrong, foolish for believing something so immature despite your very thoughts proving him right.
‘I think if she’s attracted to guys and he likes girls it can’t ever be just a friendship. Sorry.’
‘Hmm.’
You listened to the sad sound of Patrick’s fan fighting for its life against the heatwave. Every time you and Art had a moment of silence the whir of the fan provided ambience.
‘You wanna wash up?’ Art asked, as if he was offering a special treat of some kind and not your least favourite task of all time.
‘Not even a little bit.’
That was when he did it, what until that point only Patrick had been honoured enough to do, he ruffled your hair. A small gesture? Absolutely. One you’d forget? Unlikely.
Once Art was elbow deep in washing up liquid he asked you a question he’d been longing to ask you for days. Did you enjoy living with him?
‘Of course I do.’ You couldn’t help but scoff at his question. Was he truly that insecure? Still, you revelled in messing with him a little - just for fun. ‘I’m happy for Pat, he always wanted a boyfriend to move in. He finally committed.’ That earned you a splash of noodle water to the face. A long pause followed, one that lead you to believe it was time for bed.
‘I am grateful,’ Art sighed, his voice low and his eyes down. ‘I know I could have asked my parents to get me my own place but …’ You watched him stop scrubbing the plate in his hand all together, his eyes unfocused. ‘I don’t like being alone.’
With his back to you, Art stacked the pots with intense precision. You weren’t sure what to say except:
‘Who does?’
Taglist: @gatorgirl007 @imblushingrn @soy-garbage
#art donaldson fan fic#challengers art donaldson x reader#art donaldson fanfiction#challengers art donaldson#art donaldson fic#art donaldson fanfic#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson friends to lovers#art Donaldson x reader friends to lovers#art Donaldson x reader slow burn#art Donaldson slow burn#art donaldson series#no.42
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THE 13 BOOKS I READ IN 2023 IN ORDER FROM BEST TO WORST + THE PROTAGONIST'S SUPERLATIVE. PART 2.
6. A Wrinkle In Time by Madeleine L'Engel. a timeless classic that i love love love. meg is such a fun protagonist and i really enjoyed experiencing this as an adult again. the whole like… helpless devastated rage she feels when she realizes that adults can't just. fix everything? that sequence will always rattle me around like a mason jar fulla beans. she's such a like… man. the way the narrative was like. this isn't fair. it isn't right. it's happening anyway. i'm so sorry, but it's happening anyway. that really got me.
Protagonist: Meg Murry. Most Likely To Have A Profound And Life Altering Impact On Adolescent Weird Girls Who Read Her Book.
7. Whiskeyjack by Victoria Goddard. third book in the series, slightly less fun than the others but only very slightly. i cannot emphasize enough how difficult it was to rank like, 2-8. had some VERY fun stuff with like…. things you learn that then go back and recontextualize everything else. ended on a scene that made me fucking sob which is always a plus in my book. themes of FAMILY and LOYALTY and SACRIFICE. my fucking beloved. yes please. the pov character continues to have a horrible little time. also love that.
Protagonist: (again, series has dual protagonists, so switching back) Peregrine Dart. Most Likely To Be The Unwitting Conduit Of The Deus Ex Machina. Deus Ex Dart.
8. One By One by Ruth Ware. just a really good classic mystery thriller. i love a mystery thriller, and ruth ware seems to always hit for me. managed to pull off a pov switch between two pov characters one of whom had a massive, MASSIVE secret without it seeming completely nonsensical once revealed or relying on the pov character talking in deliberately obtuse or evasive ways that would be really tiresome and insulting if carried through. there was a set of tech bro startup characters that were obnoxious and infuriating in exactly the way that those people are in real life, so points for that for SURE even though i did wanna throttle them.
Protagonist: Erin (Lastname). Most Deserving Of A Tropical Vacation.
9. The Ritual by Adam Nevill. this is the most brutal book i have read in recent memory. possibly at all. this guy gets put all the way through the wringer physically and emotionally and it is visceral in the way it is described. the protagonist was a profoundly unpleasant person a lot of the time but this was deliberate and really engaging, honestly. there were some moments of stark self-reflection from him about the ways in which he did not like who he was and the things he did, and when he recognized how like. unfair and cruel he was being to the others in his head. wasn't as good as the movie, imo, but the changes that they made between the book and film made total sense given the sheer level of interiority in the book. and boy howdy how much interiority. whoof.
Protagonist: Luke. Most Surprising Survival.
10. I Am Not Who You Think I Am by Eric Rickstad. i think the most damning thing that can be said about this book is that i literally can't remember almost anything about it. it was compelling in some ways and there were a few very specific moments that i was really gripped by but most of it was like. a really flat letdown. it was interesting enough as a mystery that i finished it but i don't even really remember why, now.
Protagonist: Wayland Maynard. Most Forgettable Guy.
11. The Darkest Minds by Alexandra Bracken. just. ugh. dystopia ya in a bad way. too complicated and not well established. dumbass colour coding system. it could've been so fun, i love traumatized teenagers with powers and an evil government in all sincerity but this just did not do anything good with it. it looked like it COULD have but it DIDN'T. the love interest character was a DICK. there was some weird gender takes that popped out of nowhere. jump-scared by gender. did enjoy watching the movie though because it was fucking insane and gave me a scene where the protagonist and the love interest shared a passionate embrace over what fully appeared to be the dead body of the love interest's theoretical best friend. amazing. no notes.
Protagonist: Ruby Daly. Most Likely To One Day Decide She's Tired Of Being Nice And She Does Want To Go Apeshit Actually.
12. Reputation by Sarah Vaughan. [VIDEODROME PRESCREEN AUDIENCE REVIEW WHERE THEY JSUT WROTE 'SUCKED' AND GOT SO UPSET ABOUT HOW BAD IT WAS THEY MARKED THE WRONG GENDER] this book was BAD. the writing was bad. the characters were bad and not on purpose. the politics of the book were uh. whoof. what if white girlboss feminism was a novel. points for some of the hardest i've laughed tho at Nice Dick Mike the journalist that the protagonist cannot respect after she sleeps with him and Lady Cop With Bangs, the traitor to womanhood.
Protagonist: Emma Webster. Most Likely To Submit An Extremely Long Post To Reddit Dot Com Slash Am I The Asshole That Leaves Out A Lot Of Like, Extremely Critical Information That When Uncovered All Makes Her Look Really Fucking Bad While She Seems To Still Think It Was Entirely Irrelevant And Honestly Unfair To Even Consider. Gd Forbid Women Do Anything.
UNCATEGORIZED: 21st Century Jocks: Sporting Men And Contemporary Heterosexuality by Eric Anderson. there was simply no way to rank this among the others, it was too completely different. they were all very different books but this was just. entirely different. had a wonderful time with it though!! gave me a lot to think about as someone who thinks a lot
thank you for joining me on this journey. i loved reading books again this year and would wholeheartedly recommend anything ranked 1-9 on this list, provided you like the genre/vibe.
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Just when you think they can’t get any worse…
The new trailer drops and Harry’s smug little face appears filming himself on his first class ‘freedom’ flight, on the way to join his she-devil in America, in fact no wasn’t it Canada at the time? Another lie of we’ll settle in Canada where it feels like home.
I am mad. Freedom, Harry, freedom from bloody what? You could have left anytime, even before your marriage, your grandmother gave you that option and you chose to stay, because your wife thought she would be the star of the monarchy and live like a Princess and when she realised it wasn’t all walking red carpets and celebrity events, the narrative change and suddenly the institution was horrible and the UK was ‘racist’. I am so sick of your narrative that you suffered and were being ‘fed to the wolves’ where is the evidence? Show me the fucking receipts.
You have documented every single part of this, so where is your proof of this? And I don’t mean this Bouzy the bozo clown or the supposed ‘friends’ that have seen it. I mean proof, actual physical concrete proof of them taking away your security, (which they did AFTER you left the family, you don’t get security when you aren’t living in the UK and not a working royal anymore) lying for your brother, and all the other bullshit you’re going to spew without anything to back it up.
You can run this narrative of, we’re so happy now, this is the life we alway wanted bullshit, but the thing is if you were so happy, you would be living that life. You wouldn’t be wanting to be a part and connected to the royals anymore, yet you still want to be invited to every royal event and pretend that you’re still royal and you see no problem with that, and can’t understand why anyone else has a problem with it. You’re deluded. You’ve done nothing but complain, betray and backstab every element of the monarchy since you left, that is why everyone has a problem with it and you.
If you’re so happy being ‘just H and Meg’ stop using your titles, stop using your family to gain money and attention, stop ruthlessly lying and going after an institution that raised and protected you and just enjoy your so called ‘perfect’ life.
But, of course you can’t do this can you? No, of course you can’t. You pair of bitter, pathetic, raging psychopaths because you aren’t happy and you want to make everyone else the problem, pretending you’re the ‘victims’ when the only victims in this scenario are your family and the people of Great Britain that you’re smearing with your hate campaign.
I’m disgusted. I’m angry. I’m downright fed up of this little twat and this poisonous bitch spewing bullshit, without an ounce of evidence to back their claims, all while they sit smugly and act like the perpetual ‘victims’. It’s exhausting and maddening.
I want the people who were actual victims of these two to speak up, now is the time. Break the NDA’s and release the hounds. Bring every shred of evidence you have against these two and wreck them. It’s time they stopped getting away with their bullshit stories. It’s time they got a taste of their own medicine and it’s time the ones that have spoken out for them, see them for the lying, manipulative, toxic, deceitful, narcissistic psychos they truly are.
Sorry. I needed to rant/vent. I am so sad and mad for our late Queen and her legacy that these two are trying to destroy, they intended for the Queen to see this and that is one of the worst parts, she was ill and dying, had she lived to see this, this would have killed her.
I hate them, I sincerely hate them and I do not use that word lightly. They are evil, downright evil.
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Valveplug ahead!
... confession: I saw video and Rodimus mentioned and my mind immediately went to the fics that has Megatron make porn videos.
Rodimus convincing Megatron they should totally make one, and for whatever reason Megatron agrees. He's not sure why, really.
But Rodimus is so eager and really applies himself to make it the best video ever. Despite it just being for the two of them.
He's also all about the PoV shots and just zooms in on his spike in Megatron's valve. Just constant streams of praise coming out of his mouth.
Megatron ends up enjoying far more than he ever thought possible.
(Bonus: eventually Megatron ends up carrying, and they both discover a kink for it. They make videos, and there has to be some identity scrambler editor, and upload those. Probably uses fake names like Tread and Ember or something.)
Tumblr wouldn't allow me to ask for that would it /hj /hj
Amateur Megarod porn time wait that's gotta go so interestingly. Honestly they're having so much fun during these I bet, like more than anticipated. Just, so much fun.
Maybe Megs said yes because he's never tried it before, hell never thought about trying it before, and was curious? I'm almost inclined to suggest in this version of Megarod, Megatron is actually starting to let himself be a little more adventurous/experimental than he typically is in relationships. Even in canon we see he's not the best at those, and I can see his more reserved / almost wary nature about social walls translating into the berth, especially maybe the idea that Rodimus is one of his better choices in partners (I heavily HC that mtmte Rodimus has just. The worst taste in mecha, and I can see Megatron here having a similar stroke of luck). Sorry I made a crack porny idea a little too deep😅
of course they get a breeding kink
I'm actually gonna suggest temporary paint here too, because I'm damn sure that paint transfers are a fairly common cybertronian kink. Tread and Ember are lovely cover names actually yes yes yes
#megarod#mtmte megatron#mtmte rodimus#valveplug#maybe Roddie's thought about this before throughout various relationships but never did it / mentioned it before this point?#i feel like in general it's one of those times where both parties end up learning more about themselves
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Meg McCaffrey, Master Matchmaker
This is @falconfrost on my main acct since tumblr won’t let me submit from a sideblog. I was matched with @sofia-not-sophie and this piece was inspired by this fic of theirs: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38415544
—
Meg woke up from a really cool dream about running with a herd of unicorns in a beautiful biodiverse meadow to the sound of someone hissing her name repeatedly in a dramatic stage whisper.
Which gave away who it was before she even opened her eyes.
“Whaddaya want,” she mumbled, groping around under her pillow for her favorite hunting knife so she could throw it at Apollo’s face as payback for ruining the best dream she’d had in weeks.
“I’m very sorry for stopping by so early,” he said, still whispering because he was really nice about not waking up the other Hunters in the tent, and obviously lying because if he was actually sorry he would have waited until the sun was fully above the horizon. “But I need your help, Meg. Please?”
Meg groaned deeply and hoped the message of “you’re the worst and I hate you” came across without her having to wake her mouth up enough to say it.
“I’ll take that as an ‘of course, Apollo, I do so enjoy helping you, my dearest friend, and thank you for asking so very nicely.’”
Meg’s hand finally closed around the hilt of her knife, and she twisted around in her sleeping bag to toss it in Apollo’s general direction.
Because he was stupid and goddy, he caught it easily and raised a single disapproving eyebrow at her. Damn, and that had been a good throw too, especially considering the weird angle she was lying at.
“I did apologize, didn’t I?” Apollo said, still clearly not that sorry. He flipped the knife around in some dumb trick that was not at all impressive and offered it back to her hilt-first.
Meg groaned again and rolled out of her sleeping bag directly into Apollo’s shins. Which, ouch, felt like they were made out of steel. Stupid god bod.
“Fiiiiine,” Meg said, grabbing the non-knife-holding hand Apollo stuck down toward her and letting him pull her to her feet. “Take this outside?”
“Excellent plan,” Apollo agreed as she snatched the knife back from him and put it in her back pocket. Not really how you were supposed to carry knives, but whatever. If anything went horribly wrong, she was literally hanging out with the god of healing.
Meg shoved her boots on and together they picked their way around Meg’s tentmates, who amazingly hadn’t woken up. This was double impressive considering that most of the Hunters of Artemis were light sleepers, since the whole Hunter deal involved a lot of unexpected monster attacks and having to wake up and go tromping through the woods at a moment’s notice. It was possible Apollo was cheating and doing some kind of god magic to block the sound of his and Meg’s voices, but she wasn’t about to try to figure out if speaking voices technically fell under the domain of music or not. And she definitely wasn’t about to ask him and get a lecture on the intricacies of the “vocal arts” at whatever o’clock in the morning it was right now.
Apollo ducked through the doorway of the tent, and Meg followed him out into the clearing the Hunters were camped in for the night. As she’d suspected, the sun was not above the horizon yet, and the ring of silver tents looked dull and gray in the dim pre-dawn light. Being up this early should have been illegal.
“This way,” Apollo said, still sort of whispering, and led Meg a couple dozen yards past the edge of the clearing, down what looked like a deer path if Meg was remembering her Hunter-mandated animal tracking lessons right. His shoes (those stupid black Vans with the white stripe that he’d been wearing constantly lately, along with skinny jeans and really terrible flannels because he was a skater boy now apparently) crunched quietly on the light covering of dried leaves as they walked.
Finally, he stopped and turned to face her.
“Okay,” Meg said flatly. “What?”
It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy to see him, or anything. Aside from the crimes his constantly changing yet consistently terrible fashion sense committed upon her eyes, Meg really did enjoy Apollo’s periodic visits. (Which he was actually allowed to make now, thanks to the recent lift of Artemis’s ban on him interacting with her Hunters. Apollo still thought it was because he had asked his sister so very nicely, and not because Meg had endured a fairly awkward but earnest conversation with Artemis about it and managed to convince her. He thought that mostly because Meg hadn’t told Apollo about the conversation and probably never would, on account of the fact that he would immediately start sobbing out of love and appreciation or something and it would become a whole thing.) So yeah, Meg liked spending time with him or whatever. The problem was just when he decided to drop in at insane hours like this. As much as Meg appreciated the way being a Hunter allowed her to exist close to nature and everything, spending every night on the ground was not great for quality sleep. And now she was out several prime hours of sleep time. This had better be godsdamn good.
“So,” Apollo said. “It’s a bit of a long story, which I can explain if absolutely necessary, but in essence, I am in need of some romantic advice.”
Meg stared at him, genuinely incredulous. “You came to the aromantic asexual person. For romantic advice.”
Apollo spread his hands helplessly. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” The time having been, apparently, the middle of the night. “But really, doesn’t that make you sort of an objective party? Unbiased, as it were?”
Meg rolled her eyes at him, to make sure he understood that was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard.
Except, maybe he did kind of have a point. Not feeling romantic attraction meant she could ignore that whole factor and focus completely on the quality of the actions or words or gifts or whatever Apollo was trying to use to make his dates successful. Honestly, Meg still wasn’t clear on what really made a date successful. The other person agreeing to a second date? Getting in their pants? Unclear. She had no experience with a “successful” date on those vague terms, and a grand total of one supremely horrible, definitely unsuccessful one with that one guy from freshman year. She had been repressing the events of that since it happened, because thinking about it for more than one second made her feel the emotion of cringe to the depths of her soul. Which was impressive, considering she was basically immune to cringe after having been exposed to regular doses of Apollo for the past four years. But anyway, the repression would probably continue for the rest of her life and/or eternity, depending on how permanent her stint with the Hunters ended up being.
Upon further thought (and really, Meg was putting way more thought into this than she usually did for Apollo’s various problems, and definitely more than it deserved—Apollo had better appreciate that), none of that even mattered. Who cared about experience, or qualifications, or dumb stuff like that? Apollo had just served her up the perfect chance to bully him on a silver platter, and Meg would die before she turned down that kind of opportunity.
“All right,” she said finally, having left Apollo dangling for at least fifteen seconds by now as she was thinking. “I’ll help.”
Apollo beamed. “Thank you, Meg. You’re a wonderful friend.”
Meg concentrated furiously on not blushing at how stupidly earnest he could be. She was not affected. She was not going to give up on her plan to bully him just because he was a kind and loving person who wore his heart on his sleeve. He had woken her up from a unicorn dream, for gods’ sakes!
Reminding herself of the tragic loss of the unicorn dream worked. The blush retreated and she speared him with an unimpressed stare.
“What kind of advice do you need?”
Apollo took a deep breath (never a good sign), and launched into a passionate explanation of his dating fails over the past three weeks. Meg tuned out about half of it on the grounds that it was boring and unnecessary exposition, and also that Apollo was going into way too much detail about the various swanky rooftop restaurants with live bands, outdoor concerts, indoor theaters, and Olympic archery ranges that had been the backdrops for these dating disasters.
(She did manage to figure out what he considered an unsuccessful date, which was that they declined his offer of a personalized haiku and/or improvised ukulele song, and afterwards wormed their way awkwardly out of the possibility of a second date.)
Eventually, like a wide, lazy river, Apollo meandered his way in the general direction of an answer to her question.
“I’m not sure what keeps going wrong,” he said. “Is it something I did, do you think? Something I said? Perhaps telling that nice young man from last week that he should schedule a doctor’s appointment to get his undiagnosed stage 1 prostate cancer checked out killed the mood.”
Meg decided to ignore that last part for the sake of her overall mental stability and health. Before she could ask Apollo if what he was trying to say, in his usual roundabout and pointlessly wordy way, was that he specifically wanted advice about how to act and what to say on dates, there was a rustling in the undergrowth to the side of the path.
On instinct, Meg yanked the hunting knife from her back pocket and readied herself in a fierce fighting stance. And then felt really stupid as Artemis emerged from the trees, holding no weapons and wearing a deeply disapproving expression on her twelve-ish-year-old face, with both eyebrows raised and laser-pointed in the direction of her brother.
“Ah, good morning, Sister,” Apollo said with a dumb little wave.
“What exactly is this about?” Artemis asked, definitely at least a little irritated, ignoring Apollo’s greeting entirely.
“Why, I’m simply having a chat with my dear friend Meg, like I do quite frequently.” He blinked innocently at Artemis, who was not having it.
“And why could this chat have not waited until daylight hours, Brother?”
“Well, it’s a bit of a private matter,” Apollo admitted, his eyes flicking over to Meg in a look that screamed please for the love of Olympus do not tell my sister what I’ve been talking to you about.
“Apollo’s failing at dating and he wanted to ask me for advice,” Meg said.
Artemis digested this. Apollo shot daggers at Meg with his eyeballs.
“I see,” Artemis said finally. If Meg didn’t know from her time with the Hunters that Artemis was totally composed and serious at all times, she would have sworn that the goddess was trying desperately not to laugh at Apollo. Though maybe the whole detached thing she had going on was just an act that Artemis put on in front of the people she led who needed to see her that way. Meg wasn’t exactly a people-reading expert, but it wouldn’t be that surprising. As she had learned over the course of her adventures with Apollo, gods had layers. Like onions, or Shrek, or whatever.
“All right, yes, fine, perhaps I have been having a small amount of…bad luck in my recent dating endeavors,” Apollo said. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s come over me! It’s as if my natural charm has been all but obliterated!”
“What charm?” Meg asked.
“I believe your idea of your own ‘charm’ has always been somewhat overinflated,” said Artemis simultaneously.
She and Meg exchanged a brief nod of deep mutual respect while Apollo pouted in protest.
“Perhaps I’ve been cursed by some angry ex-lover,” Apollo continued, recovering quickly and tapping his chin contemplatively. “I like to believe I leave all of them on good terms, but I suppose you can never know for sure, and I do have a lot of exes…” He trailed off, presumably now mentally running through his mile-long list of exes and analyzing which ones of them would: a) seriously want to screw him over, and b) have the necessary magic powers or blackmail or piles of money to secretly sabotage his recent dates. Considering who Apollo was, it was probably magic powers. It was always the magic powers.
“Perhaps it’s your attire,” Artemis said flatly, looking Apollo up and down with an expression like she was smelling a Rafflesia flower. (Meg never had been able to grow one at Aeithales, which sucked because they were huge and pink and bumpy and smelled like a corpse, which was basically perfect. But even with her greenhouses, Palm Springs was just a little too dry for such a tropical plant.)
“This coming from the goddess whose signature clothing palette is Shades of Concrete?” Apollo shot back.
Artemis rolled her eyes. She really was different around Apollo. Well, Meg’s adopted brothers and sisters also made her roll her eyes a lot, so maybe that was just a universal sibling thing.
“It’s silver, not gray. And regardless, if you’re wearing anything like that around your romantic prospects, I’m not surprised you are ‘failing at dating,’ as Meg put it.”
Apollo frowned. “This outfit is totally trendy! The skater boy aesthetic is all over the fashion side of Pinterest! It’s not my fault you two refuse to use social media and spend all your time running around in the woods with no cell service.”
“Apollo, do you even know how to skateboard?” Meg asked, genuinely curious. The mental image of him doing tricks at a skate park was upsetting, but she had to know.
He waved an impatient hand in her direction. “That’s beside the point. My fashion sense is not the problem here, I assure you. It has to be something else. I’m simply not sure what.”
“Maybe it’s the haikus?” Meg suggested. “Haikus aren’t cool anymore, I don’t think.”
“The plural is haiku, Meg, and haven’t you been listening? My haiku are strictly opt-in these days! I don’t thrust them upon anyone, anymore. And besides, the haiku is classic. There is no way it’s become ‘uncool,’” Apollo said, making big, sarcastic air quotes. “I’m the god of poetry—I would know,” he continued desperately.
“What about the topic of conversation during these dates?” Artemis asked. “You can be quite long-winded, you know. Perhaps you’re boring them.”
Apollo stared at his sister in disbelief. “Me? Boring?”
“Sometimes,” Meg said sagely. Okay, that was mostly a lie. Aside from his date fail stories, which were inherently boring because they were about romance, Apollo usually had a way of making whatever he talked about interesting. If Meg was being honest, she never would have made it through so many years of piano lessons without quitting out of boredom with anyone else as a teacher.
Apollo’s face did a weird twitchy thing and then quickly smoothed into his Mild Annoyance expression.
Wait a sec… was he actually upset about this? It was kind of hard to tell when things actually upset Apollo, because he liked to act upset about things he didn’t care about and pretend like he was fine when something really got to him. Meg wasn’t great at…people things, but she’d figured that much out about him over the years.
It seemed like maybe all the failed dates were making him feel bad about himself as a person. Which was impressive considering he usually had an ego the size of, well, the sun. That could be underthinking it, though. Again: gods = onions. Maybe Meg wasn’t peeling deep enough.
Usually, at a time like this she would just ask him directly what was really bugging him, and after a little bit of dancing around the thing, Apollo would explain, and then they could figure out how to fix or get through whatever it was. But with Artemis here, would that work? A conversation with three people was way different from a one-on-one. Gods, it was too early for this much thinking.
Okay, enough. Going with her gut hadn’t failed Meg so far.
“Is getting rejected making you feel bad about yourself?”
Apollo’s eyes flicked towards her, then towards Artemis, and then back to Meg. He smiled unconvincingly.
“Of course not,” he said, unconvincingly.
Artemis, who was at least as used to Apollo’s BS as Meg was, if not more considering she’d known him for thousands of years, looked a little concerned. She might’ve said something, but Meg didn’t give her the chance.
“Well, good. ‘Cause it shouldn’t,” Meg said firmly. “The problem isn’t you—it’s the people you’re picking. Clearly they suck. They don’t know what they’re missing out on.”
Meg gave Apollo a second to process that. A way more real smile flickered across his face, like sunlight filtering through tree branches. When she was sure he got what she was saying, she said, “Okay, give me your phone.”
Even though he hadn’t been magically required to follow her orders for years now, he still dug his phone out of the pocket of his stupid skinny jeans and passed it over to her without protesting.
“Wait, why am I giving you my phone?” he asked, his smile dropping. Except it was too late for takebacks, because Meg had already backed up a few steps and unlocked it. (His password was literally 7777. He was so bad at cybersecurity.)
Meg tapped on Tinder. Despite Apollo’s claims a few minutes ago about her and Artemis not having any cell service in the woods, his phone definitely did and the app loaded fine. The first profile that showed up was for Pine, 65 years old, 0.2 miles away, with a picture of a young woman Meg assumed was a dryad standing in front of a pine tree and making a peace sign. Apollo had that whole Thing about women who were trees, so that was a clear no.
“Hey!” Apollo said as Meg swiped left. He lunged for the phone but Meg dodged easily under his outstretched arm. “Are you on Tinder? I have my algorithm very finely tuned, Meg! A single swipe in the wrong direction and it’ll start exclusively giving me guys who are really into baseball again. If I have to hear one more prediction about who’s going to make it to the World Series I might spontaneously combust, and trust me, as much as I enjoy practicing the arts of healing, emergency burn treatments are not conducive to a pleasant evening!”
Meg looked at the next profile. Greg, 32, 1489 miles away (so apparently Apollo had his distance range set to like, the entire US) wearing some kind of sports jersey that definitely could have been baseball (Meg knew nothing about sports and was proud of it). She decided the chance that he was a baseball fan was enough to justify this guy being a reject.
Apollo grabbed for her again, and Meg ducked behind Artemis for cover. Artemis twisted her neck elegantly in Meg’s direction to give her a Look, and Meg gave her a Look back. Hopefully the meaning of the Look, that Meg was doing this for Apollo’s own good, got across.
It must have, because Artemis stopped Apollo in his tracks with a gentle hand on his chest and said, “Give her a chance, Brother. She may have a point. As much as I am loath to admit it, you are a…what do they call it…a ‘catch.’”
With Apollo’s brain apparently taken mostly out of commission by his sister calling him a catch, Meg had time to swipe left on several more lame Tinder people. Another sports fan, a woman making a kissy face at the camera, guy holding an aggressively medium-sized fish, group photo of like seven women at the beach. If you swiped right, did that mean you were agreeing to date all seven of them? Apollo was into the number seven but probably not like that.
“Um. Thank you?” Apollo said finally to Artemis. “My Tinder algorithm, though…”
“I’m sure it will be fine, Apollo. Meg is a capable young woman.”
Hell yeah, she was. Meg appreciated that show of faith, even if she’d yet to find anyone good. As soon as she thought that, almost like it was on cue, a new profile popped up that made Meg’s thumb pause mid-left-swipe.
Jen, 35, 547 miles away in Los Angeles. Her first pic was a close-up of her playing the violin, with an intense look in her eyes that reminded Meg of how some of the Hunters got when they were hot on the tail of that week’s monster. Jen’s bio said that she was in the LA Philharmonic, which Meg knew from Apollo’s insistence on giving her a “proper music education” was a really good orchestra. He’d taken her and the rest of Aeithales to see one of their concerts at the Hollywood Bowl last summer (he’d teleported the whole group instead of driving, since the two of them knew firsthand how painful the Palm Springs to LA drive was). And…no way. Jen had a poem at the end of her bio. Meg didn’t recognize it, since she had convinced Apollo to not give her a “proper poetry education” because her brain would explode from too many dumb words, and also she had school and didn’t have the ability to split herself into multiple Megs to achieve unlimited free time like he did.
But someone into poetry and music? Perfect. Jen might even opt in to one of Apollo’s personalized haikus and actually appreciate it. Sorry, one of his haiku. Whatever.
Meg slid out from behind Artemis and shoved the phone in Apollo’s face. “Look.”
Apollo looked. His eyebrows gradually crawled up his forehead in interest like two blond caterpillars.
“I will admit, she seems like a better fit than anyone I’ve been seeing in the last month or two,” he said slowly.
“Just say she’s perfect and that I’m better at Tinder than you,” Meg told him.
“I will not be saying that.” Apollo carefully straightened his cuffs like he was wearing some kind of fancy suit and not a grungy flannel. “I will, however, admit that you’ve made what appears to be an auspicious discovery, which almost makes up for the untold damage you’ve wrought upon my Tinder algorithm.”
“I’ll take that as a ‘of course, Meg, you’re a genius and better at Tinder than me and thanks for fixing all my problems as usual,’” Meg said, and swiped right.
—
“Well?” Meg asked, staring at Apollo expectantly across the empty tent. He’d shown up later in the morning this time, thank the (other) gods, so the rest of the Hunters were outside eating breakfast and they had the tent all to themselves.
Apollo grinned at her, which gave away what he was about to say before he said it.
“Jen asked to see me again,” he said, radiating joy and also enough happy golden light that Meg was considering rummaging through her pack for her sunglasses. “We have a second date!”
“Told you I was better at Tinder,” Meg said with love.
“That you did,” Apollo agreed. His one-man sun thing died down a little, so Meg could look at him without shielding her eyes. “I have one hundred percent certainty that Jen and I will work out, but on the off chance we don’t, and I venture back on Tinder to find it filled with baseball men? You and I will be having words.”
Meg rolled her eyes at him as hard as she could.
Apollo didn’t roll his eyes back. Instead, he softened.
“But truly, Meg,” he said. “Thank you. Even if you’re not interested in it yourself, you really are a romantic expert. Perhaps you should get business cards.” He framed an imaginary card in the air with his fingers. “Meg McCaffrey, Master Matchmaker. The alliteration alone sells it.”
Back to his usual self, then. Meg smacked his hands down and went in for a hug, burying her face in another one of his stupid flannels as he patted her back affectionately.
At least she hadn’t missed out on a unicorn dream this time.
#submission#toacollabevent2022#trials of apollo#trials of apollo fanfiction#riordanverse#riordanverse fanfic#meg mccaffrey#pjo apollo#pjo artemis#falconfrost#sofia-not-sophie
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people who legitimately think that marvel movies are the bottom of the cultural barrel have zero media literacy or knowledge and I can’t take anything that they say seriously
I’m not gonna sit here and pretend that they’re the greatest movies ever made of all time but I will say they’re mostly fun so I don’t give a shit if scorsese nolan hitchcock kubrick etc are “better”. like nickelback. they’re not nearly the levels of talent and composition as dream theater, rush, king crimson, opeth, polyphia, deftones, loathe, sleep token, lady gaga, etc but they’re perfectly competent and listenable. you cannot sit there and tell me that the shitty myspacecore groups like brokencyde, blood on the dance floor, the medic droid, shitty drunk mom bands like hinder, saving abel, and buckcherry, shitty white girl pop like taylor swift, meg trainer, and katy perry, and shitty frat boy rap rock groups like crazy town, saliva, and kid rock, are in any way better than nickelback. you cannot tell me that you would rather listen to analcunt than nickelback even if you love analcunt because people who like grindcore know that it sounds like shit and that’s why they like it. and I’m gonna make a statement that’s so controversial in that the mcu movies are some of the best movies on the market these days because of one teeny tiny little detail.
every single american horror movie made in the last 20 years is so much worse than the most unpleasant and boring mcu film.
*except for jordan peele, who is the exception, not the rule.
paul ws anderson has not made a good movie since mortal kombat and the first resident evil AND EVEN THEN those are really cheesy, poorly edited, weirdly paced, and heavily flawed. michael bay’s writing sucks and relies solely on the spectacle of explosions. uwe boll. tommy fucking wiseau. every single shyamalan movie since unbreakable has been absolutely atrocious (aside from joaquin phoenix being the only one saving signs and the village from being NEARLY as fucking terrible as lady in the water, the happening, the last airbender, and so on, but they’re still stilted and awkward). nic cage is in a billion movies these days but we’re all just gonna forget about the late 90s and 2000s where he was in just as many movies and all of them are really really stupid? how about every superhero movie made prior to the mcu. did we forget that xmen 3 was so bad they literally fucking sent wolverine back in time to make it so that it never even happened? AND THEN HAD SANSA STARK MAKE A SILLY LITTLE JOKE ABOUT IT IN THE REBOOT TRILOGY??? but weirdly enough xmen 3 is still better then origins wolverine. oh and also green lantern, daredevil, catwoman, punisher warzone, all the batman movies where the suit has nipples, like you can’t tell me that the only good superhero movies are the worst ones because I HAVE SEEN WORSE BEFORE, sorry you were born after 2005 and you never bothered to engage media that wasn’t spoonfed to you by the algorithm.
but you know what I’d still rather watch The Room because sometimes things are bad in a way that’s still entertaining to see its incompetence, rather than Hulk. which is. fine I guess but I have no strong desire to ever watch that one again. but I still enjoyed watching it when I did. like yeah it’s not the best but it sure as fuck isn’t the worst and I’ll tell you why.
because the actual worst movies ever made of all time? dude. blumhouse’s cesspool. the conjuring is shit. annabelle is shit. sinister is shit. insidious is shit. paranormal activity is shit. the purge is shit. truth or dare is shit. unfriended is shit. oculus is shit. and night swim, that’s gonna be SOOO cringe. you’re fucking delusional at best, fucking ignorant at worst, if you think that this deluge of propaganda is better. you say that the story beats in every marvel movie are exactly the same even though they’re the same story beats that every single movie and novel has had for the past 150 years (well more like 1500 years), where you have the prologue and the inciting incident then act 2 then the midpoint then there’s a despair event horizon then a climax and a denounement at the end capping it off like a cherry on top of the sundae on an assembly line. they all copy the hero’s journey from greek storytelling. they’re all in the same boat so that’s literally the dumbest criticism you can make. you’re sitting there eating instant ramen while talking smack about hot pockets for not being made of healthy ingredients.
it’s hypocritical, and it’s telling that 90% of the people who do nothing but make a hundred posts every day about how bad marvel movies are, don’t actually do anything besides watch marvel movies just to find things to complain about. like, all you’re doing is the exact same thing that marvel fans do but you’re cultivating your own misery whereas the fans enjoy it and milk it for serotonin. it’s like when self identified anti-sjws didn’t realize that they were also SJWs, they were just on the other side of the battle lines. luckily they’re all so braindead and prone to follower mentality that they just say the word woke is bad because everyone else says that word is bad even though they have no solid definition for what the fuck woke even means anymore besides being a buzzword to help us intelligent people distinguish a bigoted asshole. point is you don’t know how to create your own opinions so you just copy whoever is spreading the most vitriol and hate.
it’s just honestly so sad to see but at the same time I envy the illusion. if I lived in a world where I thought that fried chicken was the worst food ever made expressly because everything else available to me was so much more yummy than fried chicken. imagine the privilege. imagine having champagne and caviar for breakfast, foie gras for lunch, and sushi for dinner with tiramisu for dessert, living in paradise because the worst thing in your life is fried chicken. you’ve never had to eat hot dogs. you’ve never had kale crammed down your throat. your mac and cheese doesn’t come in a box. you’re so goddamn lucky that the worst movies you’ve ever seen are still better than most movies period I’ve seen.
so I hope that when you inevitably are approached with the reality of video brinquiedo you aren’t fucking traumatized. because you’re basically the marie antoinette of cinema.
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tw: fatphobia, unhealthy relationship with food.
hey meg, i have been a big fan of your blog for a while and i really love it and it just brings me comfort when i am feeling low. and rn i really feel shitte. you really don't have to reply to this anyway but i feel like i need to tell someone what happened to me today or i will literally burst.
i am a plus-sized woman so i pretty much get a lot of comments regarding my weight and health. i usually brush it off no matter how much it hurts me. however, today i had a dentist appointment and had to go by myself since my parents were working. it was my first time trying that dentist so i was pretty nervous. he checked my mouth and he found that my second molar has a serious cavity and it needs to be taken off completely. i was like okay fine but the dentist kept throwing comments like "oh if you don't eat all of this food, we wouldn't have to take it off" or when i told him that i am a med student he kept mocking me "how are you planning to be a doctor when you have a really bad diet?"
"believe me if you didn't eat so much you would have a perfect body," was his last straw and if only i was alone in the room I would have cried so much till my eyes hurt.
and it really made me wonder if food was really the reason for all my problems. acne, cavities, shortness of breath whenever i do literally anything, and extreme guilt after every meal. i think that i have the worst relationship with food and every time i try to modify it i just fail tremendously. i hate myself for the person i have become, and i hate what i have done to my body and i hate that i just can't stop eating when i am emotional.
you absolutely have nth to do with this, i understand that. but i just needed to get it off my chest or smth. and it would mean a lot to me if you just read it and never replied. ilysm and thank you. ♥️
~N
Hii N, I'm so sorry you experienced this today. The dentist was extremely rude and I hate that people like them actually exist and think it's okay to speak their minds, and I hate that they know just the right words to use to hurt people in the worst way possible. I can reassure you that food is not the source of the things you listed, almost everyone experiences at least a few bad bouts of acne during their lifetime and cavities could be caused due to multiple factors! I do understand that learning facts won't magically fix your relationship with food but I really encourage you to explore every positive aspect of eating and food and how important it is for you (which im sure you're well aware of as a med student) not just for survival and energy but also because. Food is good. It bonds people, it fosters love and it gives us pleasure. cooking food and savoring it is literally an act of reverence towards earth and humanity, you and i might be connected via our shared love for a particular dish/ingredient! Again, I know that fixing a complicated relationship with food is a LONG process but I really hope you take baby steps soon because you deserve it! You deserve respect and you deserve being looked at with awe and pride and love and you are entitled to enjoying every single thing you eat each day, you don't have to earn food or cut things down even if the urge is too strong. I love you, hope you feel better soon ❤️
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I randomly come back and you answered hella questions 😭
Kobe not being able to add his youngest to the trust…TOUGHHHHH
Lebron and savannah…child anyway 😂 no but fr I thought savannah had her own business. I think if a man has hella money and he don’t put you, as his wife, in a position to make your own money he’s trying too control you 🤷🏽♀️ why tf he just want you relying on him? TOO CONTROL YOU duhhhhhh. He wants you to need him BFFR 🤦🏽♀️ other black women be making me mad. Come on sis we got more sense than that. We better than that.
Ben and Meg…good for her but bad for him if he was cheating. Not surprised if he was lol.
Kendall and Devin…that’s my man and I want him REAL BAD 😂 I feel like he’s not ready to settle down yet which isn’t a bad thing fr. He’s still in his 20’s and this goes for Kendall and anyone else in their 20’s. Enjoy life and just date around. SAFELY date around cause the STD rates is high asf y’all. Please be safe.
Not anon saying steph stank 😂 y’all are funnyyyyy. Him and lebron got houses to cheat…what’s new 🤦🏽♀️
Vanessa…I won’t ever like her based off what I read. It gets worse and worse. A lot of stuff she did is for show in my opinion. Good for Kobe for not putting her in charge of his money. He knew what she would do and couldn’t let it happen. That’s telling.
Josh is NOT cute I’m sorry to whoever think he is. But good for him for getting pretty girls. Not many benchwarmers can say the same 🌚
Ain’t heard shit bout Jalen Green…bout time 😂 was getting sick of his ass and he one of my favs.
Ja annoying asf 😭 how old is he cause he run to social media fast asf. I’d hate to date him cause he the type to post quotes when we arguing 💀
The old heads annoying too. Like please shut up.
Shaq and them need to just go on ahead and tell us bout Kobe 🤷🏽♀️ wasn’t kobe one of the reason shaq marriage feel apart? Cause if I remember correctly kobe was questioned about what he was doing regarding cheating and his marriage but kobe let it be known it wasn’t just him and he told on some of the other players? I think it was him but I could be wrong. Either way it’s not like the wives needed kobe to say they was cheating lol. They knew and was gone stay regardless 😂.
That’s all I can remember I read lol but I’m happy you are back and I hope you are doing good. I’ve been in your shoes when it came to a nigga I was too good for. We’ve all ignored read flags before. Idk feelings just be getting in the way of seeing what a nigga really about. Again I’m happy you’re back and with time things will get better 💕💕 and on some real shit ONE DAY imma make my move on DB. The worst he can say is no but I ain’t scared of rejection 🤷🏽♀️ he gone forever be my baby 😂😂
anon i love your takes 😭 lmao savannah is def going out a little sad in that regard, definitely feel you on the kobe & vanessa stuff. i’ve also heard the same about the shaq thing, i think kobe said that during his rape case iirc. things were very messy back then but i wonder if things now are messier or about the same with the nba in general. but not thinking josh is cute??? now don’t do that anon! & thank you, i really appreciate that! we can only learn and grow so 😌 but go get your man by any means necessary, and if we gotta ignore a few more red flags for him then so be it 😭
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2, 8, 14, 40
Hello my friend! Thank you for playing ;D
2. talk about a notable time a narrative or character has looked you dead in the eyes and said “fuck your plan, here’s what we’re actually doing.”
I already talked about Addicted to You here, but it's not like it hasn't happened more than once lol... Satin and Sawdust wasn't quite as surprising, since I'd already gone through the Addicted to You adventure. But it did not turn out how I planned, at all. I was going to have a Dean/Cas/Meg threesome in that fic. It was the BASIS for the whole story! I wrote the fic BECAUSE I wanted to dump those 3 in the sheets naked and see what shenanigans they got up to.
But as the story progressed and it got closer and closer to when that scene could happen, I realized... oh fuck. Dean and Cas don't want to, and Meg isn't going to go there. Dammit! I had it tagged and warned for and everything, and I had to remove the tags and write a note, because people were waiting for it it. I was bummed, they were bummed, but honestly I think it turned out better for not having the scene. And I strongly hint in the epilogue that it'll happen eventually anyway lol
8. what’s your relationship with constructive criticism and feedback like? do you seek it out? how well do you take it?
Just like any author I love positive feedback from my readers, but I will Marie Condo comments offering "constructive criticism" because i didn't fucking ask you ok.
However, I actually really enjoy working with alpha and beta readers. I can usually tell when I need someone's help, and seek it out. @jupiterjames is my first go to because she's my bestie and we've been helping each other write fic for almost a decade now, so she knows my quirks, and knows when to tell me I'm being stupid and to get over myself. She's also really good at letting me rant my way into figuring out the problem myself, which I think is often what I need most. Sometimes she's a little too positive, and I'm like no it's broken, TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG, and she'll give actual advice on what to change plot-wise, and I'm always hella amused when that happens.
I'll also poke @bendingsignpost for help because we've gotten really good at bouncing ideas off each other, and he almost always comes up with something spectacular that I'm like no no no you should write that, and we end up spending a few hours pouring out ideas on each other's heads. It's fun, and a good writing exercise. Turns out my teachers were right that brainstorming sessions are good for me lol
You've also started to be a really big help for me lately! Thank you for letting me attack you with a wall of text the last few times I got stuck ;D
Obviously criticism isn't all fun and games, but for the people I trust to talk about my work with, I'm fully open to advice on how to fix things I'm doing wrong. There are a lot of improvements I've made over the years because of their help, and I welcome more feedback in the future :D
14. what’s your worst writing habit?
I'll find a favorite phrase and use it too many times in a single story. This is something that jupiterjames has pointed out to me and teased me about, and I'm much more aware of it and more careful of it, but I still fuckin' do it! XD
40. best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.
I gave a few examples here, but anyone who says that I wrote a line so good they got angry about it is my favorite person. Oh, you're mad that I evoked emotions? Sorry not sorry, but you have my permission to tattoo that line on your body ;D
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It's not easy having yourself a good time
we're on a double-date with other people... why are we kissing? you're not my date
Credit for prompt to
Hypnos x reader (modern!College!au)
Word count: 2.7
Warning: some dating violence on OC's side. Wrist grabbing, slurs and controlling behavior.
Summary: this was the worst date of your life. Thankfully it's also Hypnos' worst date ever.
A/N: here have this fic. I had yandere! Hypnos I was working on but it's giving me issues (it was supposed be under 1k but it keeps growing).
Also, I am open to requests but will rejected any I don't feel comfortable doing.
No beta.
Thank and I hope you enjoy.
💤☁️💤
You regret everything.
You stared at the plate of food you didn't order, some sad little salad that somehow smelled greasy.
Why did you let yourself get talked into a group date? You know why, you thought your friend was going to try to set up with your lab partner, Hypnos.
You looked at the bubbles in your sparkling water, another thing you didn't order and wondered if the person you were with would ever stop talking.
You glanced up at the group at the table. Across from you with his own date next to him, was Hypnos who was frowning at your date.
At least you had one sane classmate with you. Hypnos had been your lab partner since the first day in senior year and honestly you had thought at first your friend was setting you up with Hypnos. If you had known it was with someone else, you would have bail.
Charlie was a nice person you told yourself and your friends thought they would be great for you. Charlie was just… maybe they didn't know you don't order people's food for them.
"Look what I'm saying, Hypnos, is that maybe that YouTuber guy shouldn't be called out as much. Not his fault people can't take jokes anymore." Your date, Charlie, said loudly across the table to Hypnos who just raised a brow.
You rolled your eyes, You weren't going to let your friends pick a date for you ever again.
"Alright buddy. Whatever you say." Hypnos shrugged.
Hypnos' date and fellow classmate leaned across Hypnos, her breasts pressed against his arm. You looked away, poking at your food. You certainly were not jealous, you told yourself.
"Come on, guys. Let's talk about something else." she whined. The other two couples that came along echoed their agreement.
Hypnos grimaced and sat up taller, making the girl sit up as well. You felt kinda bad for both you and Hypnos. Clearly neither one of you guys were getting on with your dates.
You looked toward your friend, hoping she would notice how poorly everything was going. You rolled your eyes when she was clearly lost in her own world, feeding her partner french fries.
Too bad your date wasn't with Hypnos. You thought he was actually cute back when You first saw him, if not a little odd looking with white curls and heavy lidded eyes. Now, you couldn't imagine a more handsome person.
You found your eyes kept going back to him throughout dinner. Especially when he pushed his hoodie sleeves up, showing off his forearms.
The table moved on to some marvel movie or something but you were drifting in and out. You kept checking your watch in hopes that you could end the night soon without being rude.
You could feel someone was watching you and you looked up to Hypnos' golden eyes looking at you. He glanced at the group, back at you and rolled his eyes. You smiled in agreement but quickly covered it up with your hand.
Hypnos pointed toward your plate with the uneaten food, eyebrows rised in a questioning way.
You tilted your head toward your date who was loudly having another argument over some tv show with one of the guys there.
Hypnos looked at your date for a second before he sneaked you his untouched plate of pancakes.
You mouthed, 'Are you sure?' and he nodded, pointing at a plate of mostly eaten omelet.
You mouthed a quick thank you and dug in. You were half though the plate of pancakes when your date noticed.
"Wait, where did you get the pancakes?" Charlie asked, "You know how fattening all that carbs and sugar are? I like my dates to be healthy."
"What?" You asked flatly. Did you really hear what you just did? Hypnos and his date were both staring at Charlie. Hypnos looked furious and You saw the girl send you a pitying look.
"Oh. come on, you know I don't mean it like that."
You suddenly lost any appetite you had and pushed the plate of food away. You looked toward your friend who remained blissfully unaware of your pain.
Your date swung an arm on your shoulders, you sighed annoyed at the causal possiveness. You only knew them for like two hours but they were already acting like you were going steady.
"Ready to hit the club, Y/N?" Your date asked.
You almost groaned, you had forgotten about the stupid club.
"Uh, sure. Yeah." You tried to wiggle your date's arm off but no dice. You thought you saw Hypnos send a disapproving look at your date but you weren't sure. No point getting your hopes up.
As you exited the diner, Hypnos tripped; knocking into your date and their arms off your shoulders.
Grateful for the excuse, you took a few steps out of their reach.
"Oops, my bad." Hypnos smiled widely, and gave a shoulder pat to your date who glared at him. "Just watch it alright?" Your date snapped as they made it to the carpool.
In the car, you peeked at Hypnos who just winked at you. You didn't hide your smile this time.
The club did nothing to improve your date or your mood. The loud bassy music was almost too loud to hear anyone and your date kept trying to get you to stay on the dance floor.
You were able to duck out of their hold and pointed to the table. They tried to tell you something but You didn't stick around.
You almost fell into the booth, your feet were throbbing and you just wanted to go home. You could just see your homework growing by the hour.
"Need water?" Hypnos asked. You looked up, "Oh I didn't know you were at the table. Yes please."
He handed you an icy cold bottle and you moaned at how good it tasted. He laughed and you blushed, feeling foolish.
"Sorry, thank you." You took a slip, without moaning this time thankfully.
Hypnos went back to his phone, fingers moving quickly. "No problem."
"Where is… um what was her name?" You asked, trying not to look at Hypnos too much. How dare he look this good in the club' dim lighting.
"Oh I forgot her name. But she is doing fine. Told me she was going home with her ex." He pointed to the dance floor where the girl was dancing against another guy, their mouths glued together.
You looked back at him, but he already was back to texting on his phone. He didn't seem upset at all.
"I'm sorry, Hypnos." You said awkwardly, not sure of what to make of this whole night.
"Don't be. I'm not." He shrugged. You couldn't help but notice how nicely the red hoodie fit him.
"I will admit though I don't think I will be trusting our friend's matchmaking skills after tonight." Hypnos looked at you, his amused smile made you smile in return.
"You and I both." You murmured your agreement.
You finished off your drink, eyeing him.
After a few more minutes, your willpower broke.
"Okay I gotta know. It has been months since I met you and it is bugging the crap out of me." You leaned forward to him.
He looked up from his phone, a white eyebrow raised.
"Is Hypnos your real name?" You asked him, not quite able to look away from him. You were being a silly school girl and you knew it.
He laughed, "Yeah, it is." He moved closer, his eyes bright. "Wanna know why?"
At your nod, he spoke. "When my mom was pregnant with me and my brother. She got kinda crunchy, got into healing crystals and tarot cards, stuff like that."
Hypnos waved a hand. "So when she couldn't pick names for us, she went to a psychic, who told her that she was a reincarnation of the goddess Nyx. And apparently she was pregnant again with the reincarnated gods of sleep and death."
You couldn't help the small laugh and Hypnos chuckled as he took a sip of his beer.
"Mom believed the guy." He pointed to himself, " So ta-da I got named Hypnos. And my brother is Thanatos."
"Your mom sounds like a fun lady." You played with your hair, enjoying the warmth in your stomach. You couldn't remember the last time someone made you feel such things.
"Oh definitely. I never know what I'm going to get when I see her." Hypnos said fondly.
When You shifted your seat, your leg brushed against his. You almost pulled away but Hypnos pressed his leg against yours. You could feel the heat of his body and it just made you want more.
His golden eyes searched yours, silently asking if he could do this. You returned the gentle pressure and flushed at his soft smile.
"How does your brother handle the whole Thanos name thing?" You asked, desperately trying to calm your racing heart.
A devious glint lit Hypnos' eyes, "Oh he hates it so much. He already hated the whole super hero thing. Last year for his birthday, I got him a cardboard cutout of the big guy. I thought he was going to shove it down my throat. I got his boyfriend Zagreus and their girlfriend Meg in on it this year, we going to -"
"Hey Y/N. Are you coming back to the floor?" Charlie's eyes narrowed, "Hypnos, I think your actual date is looking for you."
You pulled away, you had forgotten about Charlie and you couldn't help but feel some guilt, even if you didn't like them that much or at all.
Hypnos stayed in place, amusement on his face. You saw Charlie's fists clenched and knew they were about to start a fight and stood up.
You were definitely going to block Charlie's number after tonight was over.
"Come on, let's get some drinks for everyone. They should be coming back soon." You motioned for Charlie to follow you. They glared at Hypnos before following you.
You couldn't resist a quick glance back to Hypnos, who raised his beer at you in a 'cheers' motion.
💤☁️💤
Charlie was sullen and quiet as you ordered more drinks for the group. You couldn't blame them really, anyone would be put out when their dates are clearly having a better time with someone else.
Well, not Hypnos but Hypnos wasn't exactly normal, you thought fondly.
You tapped the bar, guilt gnawed at your guts as your thoughts went back to Hypnos.
"So what were you guys talking about?" Charlie slurred, his tone icy.
You took a breath, just a few more hours you reminded yourself. "Nothing much. Just about his brothers and stuff."
Charlie crowded into your space. You can smell the booze and sweat on them.
"You guys seemed like you were sitting pretty close considering you were talking about 'brothers'." They did a finger quote.
You rolled your eyes, unable to stand being near them any longer. You stepped away to head back to let your friends you were bailing for the night.
"Tell me what he said to you." Charlie demanded as they grabbed your wrist harshly.
"Ow, let go of me! You are hurting me, Charlie." You hissed, trying not to draw any attention.
"Tell me." They hisses back.
"I did. Buy your own drink, I'm going home." You tried to yank your hand away but they didn't let go.
"Look I've been nothing but nice to you and you're cuddling up to another guy on our date like some slut." They changed their tone, trying to sound more upset than controlling but it just made your stomach twisted in disgust.
You opened your mouth to defend yourself but after a moment you shut it, "You're right. Clearly this isn't going to work out so let me go."
"No, you own me something, Y/N." Charlie leaned toward you. "And I'm not leaving empty handed."
"Fuck off." You snapped, fear rising in your chest.
"Hey, man." Hypnos grabbed Charlie's wrist and squeezed tightly enough that they were forced to let go of your wrist. His normal light-hearted tone was hard. "I think Y/N had enough of your company tonight."
You took some steps back, shaking a little. Without looking at you, Hypnos asked. "Y/N, do you need to go get anything?"
"N-no. I have everything. I want to leave." You hated how weak you sounded and you wished that you never came out at all.
Hypnos held on to Charlie's wrist and yanked them toward him. You heard Hypnos murmur something to them.
Fear flashed over Charlie's face and they stumbled backward. "Fine. Whatever asshole."
Hypnos turned to you, his eyes darkened by his anger. "Come on, I can get you a ride home."
You just nodded, feeling very exhausted and close to tears.
💤☁️💤
The cold wind felt like heaven after the heat of the overflowing club. At least for the first two minutes.
You just walked, not quite sure where to go. Hypnos walked next to you, easily keeping up with your pace.
Neither one of you said anything as you tried to process the horrible night.
After walking for ten more minutes, Hypnos spoke up. "There is a park nearby, we should be able to find a park bench."
You just nodded, Hypnos offered an arm and after a moment you took it. You pressed your cheek against his shoulder, soaking in his body heat.
The park was empty, lit by warm path lights.
"Thank you." You said. "You didn't have to do anything for me."
"It's all good. How about the wrist?" Hypnos asked softly.
"It doesn't hurt. Thank you since you stepped in." You patted his forearm.
Hypnos sighed, "No. Not thanks to me actually. Its kinda my fault, I've been pushing their buttons for most of the night."
You looked up at Hypnos, your brow furrowed. "What? No, they have been pretty rude since the start of the date. I mean, you heard the salad thing. They ordered it for me!"
Hypnos shook his head. His breath coming out in white puffs. "Yeah and because I was jealous, I made a bad date into a nightmare. I knew I was making them feel all threatened, it wasn't hard honestly. I didn't think they would grab you like that. I just thought they would be a bad date you could laugh about later."
It took you a moment to process his words. You stopped on the park path, staring off at the lake.
"You were jealous?" You asked, not quite believing what you were hearing.
"Very." Hypnos chuckled bitterly.
"Hypnos, you are an idiot." You said blankly.
He opened his mouth to say something but you pulled him down by his collar to kiss him.
At first, Hypnos doesn't return your kiss and you pull away, an apology already on your lips.
But he cupped your face and met you again in a sweet, slow kiss. He kept pulling away to press chaste kisses against your lips and cheeks.
"Damnit, I was planning on asking out you after our last class assignment. I had a plan for everything. I was going to take you to your favorite coffee shop and buy you that dumb drink you like. Take you the park by our dorms and ask you by the duck pond." Hypnos said between kisses and pressing one last long kiss against your lips.
You hummed, unable to think straight. "Our friend ruined that, huh." You laughed when you could feel him growled against your lips. "You have no idea, I had a speech and everything."
After another long and soft kiss, both of you pulled away only to met again in a forehead press. Your white puffs of breath mingled together and your heart felt so full.
"You could still do the coffee and the speech. And the ducks." You whispered.
"Yeah?" Hypnos asked softly, his thumb caressed your cheek.
"I have to do a lab with a very cute classmate tomorrow but I'm free after that." You flushed, pleased at the fond smile Hypnos had.
"That's funny, so am I." Hypnos replied.
Unable to hold off any longer, you pulled him into another kiss, one of the many yet to come.
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Serotonin III
A/N: Hey! Here’s the final part!!! I hope you enjoy it! I am working on three requests for Mr. Baker and Part 2 to The Business! My taglists and requests are open! Let me know what you think! Happy Reading!
Pairing: Colson Baker X Reader
Warnings: Language, Nudity, Lowkey Pettiness, Smut, orgasm denial
Inspo Song: Acting Like That : Yungblud ft. MGK, Travis Barker
Serotonin Masterlist, MY MASTERLIST
Meg: I can’t believe you left me at the club! I was joking with your petty ass!
Colson: you said if I wanted her, go get her. I did
Meg: so you really are choosing her over me?
Meg: hello?
Meg: I know god damn well you getting my texts, you asshole
Meg: Colson.
Colson: who is this?
Meg: real funny
Colson: what you want?
Meg: Are you still coming tonight?
The hours passed since he left seemed like seconds; maybe you’d fucked up. Overreacted by busting his phone up and making him go.
Shit.
The fact that he left his phone left meant Colson knew you’d fucked it up this time. You tossed the phone on the couch and stared up at the ceiling, and to make matters worst, you couldn’t even text and say come back because you had the phone. You’d fucked up.
Guilt played a weird role in your relationship, making Colson feel guilt, easy as pie. He did shit all the time, and even when he didn’t, his little ass found reasons for him to still feel some guilt. Guilt rarely rested on your shoulders, but here tonight, it rested heavily on your shoulders. You stare down at the text messages, there were several avenues you could take to resolve the issue. The first was just say you were sorry; apologies meant a lot. But a text wouldn’t do; for starters, it wouldn’t do because you had his phone. He wouldn’t see it. Secondly, Colson would eat the texted apology and spit it out in your face if you did that to him. Your arguments had been more than toxic in the past, and you may or may not have told him text apologies were trash. The only actual resolution was to drive over to the house and do it face to face. Unfortunately, that would not be an easy feat either.
You dressed quickly, taking one of his out of the box outside your bedroom. You slide on his purple EST sweatsuit. His aroma still lingered even though it’d been washed. The musky scent of his earthy Cologne intertwined with his weed because the man smoked enough for his whole team. It was a scent you’d grown accustomed to, felt like home, even sliding back into his clothes.
The drive over usual took forty minutes, traffic and all, but today it lasted ten, or it felt like ten, and no matter how many times you rehearsed your apology, it still tasted like dirt when you said it.
“Colson, I overreacted.” You braced a smile in your rearview mirror and then leaned into the steering wheel. “Colson, you’re gonna forgive me because you’re a fucking cheater.” You growled and slammed your fist into the passenger’s seat. “Colson- I am sorry I broke your phone. I will go with you to buy another one.” You laughed and reached for the vape filled with the THC vape. It’d be best to be high talking to him. The vape hits smooth, the fruity flavor hitting your tongue before your lungs, and then a plume of smoke fills the car as you exhale. Fuck.
The knock on your window scares you, but only a little as Slim waves. He points down, signaling you to roll the window down. You do, and the plume leaves with the small gust of wind the fresh air brings. “What are you doing out here Y/N? It’s three in the morning?”
“Shit.” You glance at the fluorescent blue digits on the clock. “Damnit.”
“Yeah, you good?” Slim smirks knowing the answer.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“I can go get him.”
“No,” you said quickly. “I’ll come in a few.”
“bet, I’m gonna lock this gate.” He laughed as he walked away.
He faded from your view, and you slinked down in your seat, regathering what you were planning once more. Ten minutes passed, and you hit the vape four more times, feeling your body relax and the tension dissipates. It was time; either he forgave you, or you would just sleep in the car until he did. Every light in the house was on, upstairs and down; they never slept at night. They just slept until the next afternoon and started the party all over again. It's the one reason you refused to live with him; your sleep schedule would be fucked.
You stand at the grand doors and knock a few times, hoping they hear you over the loud ass music that played in the room over. It stopped abruptly after a few seconds, and you could hear his long strides headed to the door.
“If you don’t have food, go back home.” Colson’s playful voice came from the other side.
“I-,” You chuckled. “I don’t have food; everything was closed.”
“When I apologized to you, I had fucking food. Go get food and come back. The pizza place on Simmons is open until five.”
“Colson, please.”
“You can call Door Dash or whoever, but the entry fee is food.” The music started back, Dopeman – lyrics raged from the door, and your mouth dropped.
This fucking asshole had audacity and some fucking nerve, You banged against the door, but this time the music did not stop. He was being serious, a food fucking entry fee. Fuck him! Ten minutes passed, and he did not budge. The music continued, and you swore you could hear actual drums being played inside.
Fine. He wanted food; you’d bring him food. It was hard to strip in the back of a car, but you did. You stripped out of your clothes and grabbed the one pair of heels that never left your car. You called them fuck me heels, but it wasn’t because you were trying to get fucked. They were six inches and incredibly hard to walk in; you hated them. The most said was usually FUCK ME, when you wore them. If Colson wanted to be an ass, you’d level the playing field. You liked putting on a show too. You laid on your horn for a minute, knowing it would get his attention, clicked the headlights to your car, and stepped out into the crisp air of the night. He didn’t have too many neighbors but now was their opportunity if they wanted to see you naked. You stood bare ass in front of your car awaiting the jealous Colson. You knew well to show his face, and like clockwork, he arrived.
“What the fuck are you doing!” He yelled, charging from the house. “Y/N.”
“You said to bring food. Well, come eat.”
“You’re not fucking cute.” Colson snapped as he slid out of his jacket. He quickly wrapped your body in the black leather jacket and tossed you over his shoulder. “Fucking spoiled ass. You could have just went and got the motherfucking pizza.”
“It’s late.”
“I know what time it is,” He hissed. Colson entered the house, eyeing his friends. “Don’t even look at her.” He warned as he carried you up the steps; his hand came down on your ass with each step until you two finally reached his bedroom. Colson tossed you onto the plush black comforter and stood in front of you, “Why are you here?”
“You left your phone.” The line seemed innocent enough, but there was little innocence behind it.
“You broke it.” His confused look makes you laugh; cupping your mouth, he smacks. “Don’t come over here tryna laugh at you throwing shit at me Y/N.”
“I thought-.”
“I know what you thought.” He pointed at you, “So don’t try to sugarcoat it. You thought I was dicking you down and then going back to her. Then you read them messages and realized you were a whole asshole.” He stated matter of fact.
“So, you’re not gonna let me talk.”
“Did you let me talk before you tossed me out? Why are you here anyway? It’s four in the morning. ”
“I couldn’t sleep.” You attempted to kick off the heels, and he grabbed your foot, stopping you from sliding it off.
“That guilty conscience is heavy, huh??” He cracked a smile and shook his head. “Leave them on.”
“You won.” You whispered. “I fucked up,” the omission tumbled from your lips unwillingly.
“Was that an apology?” Colson teased.
“I’m not saying it again.”
“Oh, you gone say that and more.” He laughed. “Sorry, ass apology.”
“Col-,” You giggled, “I’m tired. Can I apologize tomorrow, please?”
He kneeled in front of you, rubbing his hands up your legs, his touch ignited something in you, even if you were sleepy. “Oh and the next day too, shit, I’m never gonna let you live this shit down. So you can apologize all the fuck you want, but you’re not going to sleep right now. I haven’t had you in my bed in months. I wanna fuck you to sleep.”
“
I’m halfway there.” You smiled lazily at him, raking your fingers through his hair. “We have all tomorrow for make-up sex.”
“You the only person that’s doing the making up.” He reminded playfully.
“So you’ve said.”
Sleep found you minutes after you snuggled into his lean frame; you missed sleeping glued to Colson no matter how hot he felt. He nestled into you as well, pulling you against his chest, tracing his long fingers down the line of your back, humming tunes to an unwritten song when he thought you were sleeping. He didn’t sleep much tonight didn’t prove any different as the hues magenta cut across the once dark sky outside the window.
“Morning came fast.” You mumbled.
“It’s been three hours.” He whispered. “Shit, You still tired I can see it in you. You don’t have to get up.” He pulled the cover over your body and sighed. “I gotta be somewhere at eleven.” Colson groaned. “I’m gone cancel that shit.”
“No, do what you said you were going to do. Get some sleep.” You climbed out of bed, pulling drapes closed and bringing darkness back into the room. “It’s no point in missing money.” You said his words back to him.
“Yeah, whatever.” He watched you, his tongue between his teeth. “I really thought you were not coming over here tonight. I was tryna find ways to apologize to you for shit I didn’t do. It’s already fucked up when I have to apologize for this shit I did do.” Colson adjusted his pillow and waited for you to return to the bed.
“I know I fucked up, damn.” The walk of shame was generally when you’d fucked a one-night stand, but right now, it was walking back to the bed to face him. “I get really pissy when it comes to you. Like—I wanna fight.” You cut a smile and sunk back into the bed, this time angling yourself to face him.
“Why fight me? I didn’t send the text?” He pulled you towards him and rolled himself on you. The weight was comfortable and one you’d craved. “Huh?” Colson exhaled before he leaned down and took your nipple in his mouth. He held the small nub between his two teeth, tugging a little before he began to suck.
“You’re gonna be tired.”
“Man fuck that interview.” He whispered before diverting his attention to the other nipple and repeating the same actions. You were already wet for him; one look could get you ready. Eager for him, you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding your pussy against his boxers. He could make the foreplay lasts as long as the sex, and you both had things to do later. There was no time for the slow sex; you damn near wanted to be punished – but he wasn’t in that mode.
Colson pushed his boxers down and lifted your waist from the bed, putting you in the perfect angle to take him but instead of slamming into you as you desired, he teased. He stroked the length of his cock down the line of your pussy, soaking himself in you before finding his way to your entrance and stopping.
“Stop playing.”
“I want that apology.” Colson smiled, looking down at you.
Your pussy jumped with anticipation. “I’m sorry.”
“Fake ass apology,” He pushed an inch into you and then pulled out. “Make it real.” He whispered.
You groaned, frustrated, slapping his chest in a tantrum. “I said I was fucking sorry.”
“Mean ass apology--,” he shook his head. “That’s how you wanna play, let’s fucking play.” Colson slammed into you, and your mouth opened in pleasure. His pace was intense, knocking the breath out of you with each stroke, but you didn’t want to breathe; you wanted to cum all over him. “Say that shit as you mean it.”
“I said-,” You scratched down his back halfway, and he pins your hands above your head, thrusting into your harder and faster. “Oh,” Tremors take over, rocketing through your body. “Yes,” You buckled against him. “Yes.”
“Yeah, keep saying yes.” He pulled out of you, slapping three fingers to your clit. “I bet you won’t cum.”
Your eyes snapped open. “I’m sorry.”
Another slap to your clit, and the pleasure had faded just a small tinge of pain, and he started to fuck you once more, long strokes, hitting your g-spot each time. “I don’t believe that shit; this pussy is just greedy. You wanna cum, you ain’t sorry.” He whispered.
“I am sorry.” You whined as your body climbed back up to the precipice of a release. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” Your swollen clit throbbed, one stroke away from cumming, and he stopped slapping your clit again, bringing pain that made you cry out. “I am sorry.” You cried. “I should not have thrown your phone.” You mewled. “I should have talked to you.” You pleaded. “Believed all that shit you said.”
“Why?”
“I don't know, let me cum.” You pulled at the one hand that had secured both of your wrists. “Please, daddy.” The lustful tone made him smile.
“You can call me daddy all the fuck you want… you ain’t getting what you want yet.” You rolled your hips, coaxing the movement from him, and he shook his head. “Stop being a fucking brat.” He warned. “Just tell me why you’re sorry.”
“Because I want to be with you.” You admitted. “I love you.”
He grinned. “You better mean that shit too.” Colson started back fucking you slow, releasing your hands but making sure he was in control. You flooded with relief feeling him give in to you, gripping your hips to meet his thrusts, all while burying his face in your neck to nip his favorite spots on your body. This is what you had wanted all along, to be with the man who’d somehow drove you insane but simultaneously become an innate piece of your life that brought you a balance you didn’t know you needed. He was, in a way, as your serotonin.
A/N: I know I described my Meg in this fic, but just a lil disclaimer she is not Megan Fox lol I realized that could be confusing.
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Hello! Could you do MTMTE Megatron and 1 for the number requests? Have a good day/night.
Autobots left and right were admiring you now that you had come clean to them and revealed that there was a human controlling this giant robot called AirLock and that human was you.
When you were selected to join Lost Light's crew, you, your superiors, and Autobot superiors all agreed that the huge spaceship would be a dangerous place to someone as small as you.
So with help from the Autobots scientists Perceptor and Brainstorm, you were able to join the crew as a AirLock, Autobot Femme from planet Earth.
You had been keeping your human nature hidden since it was no secret that Megatron didn't really fancy organics of any kind and to keep an eye on him you would have to get close to him.
But you never expected to get so close to him as in dating him. He started it, he wanted to learn from Earth and as a resident of the Earth, you had tons of things to educate him about.
One thing lead to another, and he confessed having feelings towards you... And you foolishly held feelings for him also so the two of you started dating.
Everything was going fine, but you knew you would have to tell him one day what you actually were.
That day came faster than you would have liked when the Lost Light ended up in one of its weekly adventures. You were all fighting against some hostile aliens when you were shot, your robot body's head coming cleanly off from your body.
Megatron had been devastated but that's when your robot body's chest clicked open and you jumped out from there. Bots couldn't almost believe it, one bot, Whirl, even thought you were one of those organic aliens that burst from its host's body.
Nope, you were a human and a novelty apparently. Autobots couldn't get enough of you. But as much as you enjoyed the attention... You wanted to see Megatron.
So you sought him out and found him in his habsuite at the lower level.
"Megs?"
Megatron's helm snapped up out of instinct. He looked confused before he remembered that you weren't who you had said you were and he looked down to see little old you.
You smiled, but your smile was wobbly thanks to worry. "Hi, Megs. How... How are you?"
"What do you expect? First I saw your helm being blown up and then I learned that you weren't an Autobot from Earth but a human."
Ouch, he had a point. You frowned sadly, "I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. People back in Earth, my bosses would have skinned me alive."
"So all the things you told me about Earth? About yourself? Were they true?" He asked and you nodded, "Everything."
"It..." Megatron sighed and averted his gaze from you like he couldn't stand looking at you. "This is messed up. I feel like I don't even know you."
"Megs, I'm sorry I lied, I really am, please...!" You said, but your voice started to quiver as you feared for the worst. "I am still me. AirLock is me! I- I don't know what I can do to-!"
"I think we should break up." Megatron suddenly said and the world around you seemed to freeze. You blinked and tears started to roll down your face.
You wanted to cry and beg him, but you knew better. If that was what Megatron wanted, you had to honor his decision. It didn't mean that you weren't in pain.
"I see..." You nodded and turned to leave and run all the way to your habsuite when suddenly you were picked up. You yelped, a fresh set of tears running down your face.
The next thing you knew, you were standing on Megatron's work desk, and he was right there looking down at you.
"I started dating AirLock, not you. Now, I want to start over with you as a human..." Megatron cleared his intake, "It's going to take time to trust but... I am willing to try. If that is okay to you then would you like to-?"
"Yes!" You nodded and your tears of sadness turned into joy. You rubbed your face furiously with your shirt's sleeves until your face was dry.
"Yes, I would love to start over!"
Megatron smiled and took himself a comfortable sitting position by his desk. "So... Tell me about your pupa age?"
You snorted, "You mean my childhood?"
"That."
"Well, I was born in..."
#anon#request#writing#my writing#story#my story#megatron#mtmte#transformers mtmte#transformers#reader#reader insert#Enjoy!
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Drunken Dares
Prompt + paring: Tattoo Parlour au, ‘night’ + Solangelo
A/N: Hellooo- i had the choice between a tattoo parlour au or a flowershop au but I'm already writing a pjo flowershop au so I thought I'd spice it up with a tattoo parlour au! I kinda wanted there to be a part two becuase I wanted a bit of bonding between the two so maybe if i remember, that may happen? Anyway- enjoy <3 from phi phi!
Read on A03 Writersmonth 2021 Masterlist
“Do I really have to do this?” Will groaned slightly. It was late at night and here Meg was, pushing him in a tattoo parlour.
“Yep!” She hummed as she pushed him forward.He tripped over his own foot as he flung through the double doors. He was about to continue reluctantly before realising the short minion who had forced him here was no longer by his side.
He turned around and frowned. “ Meg? Why aren’t you coming in?”
“I’m underage,” She hummed.
“You know you can just stand to the side?” Will asked, a slightly desperate undettone to his statement which Meg noticed. He was begging her not to leave him in the scary dark tattoo parlour which was full of buff, scary people.
“Sorry- but I must not break the law!”
“Last week you happily started trying to drive my car!” Will yelled at the glass doors. Alas, his yells were ignored as Meg blissfully ignored him as she continued her walk home, leaving William Andrew Solace in a tattoo parlour.
What was he meant to do?Walk up to the guy at the counter and tell him that he wanted a tattoo? He should have never gotten drunk and played truth or dare- he should have known that the first thing Leo would dare him would be to taint his beautiful freckled skin. The worst part ultimately was the fact that he had to get it on his chest.
Perhaps the gods above saw Will’s freak out or perhaps Leo was simply being extra nice when he saw Will in the middle of the parlour looking so out of place it was painful but either way, the next thing Will knew, he was being taken by the wrist towards the counter by none other than Leonidas Valdez; the very bastard who had gotten him into this mess.
“I’m surprised you actually came,” Leo commented.
“Meg forced me,” Will grunted.
“So,” Leo sighed as he tapped at the cigarette in between his fingers, “ Do you know what you’re getting?”
“Uhh… no, not really., How does this work? You tell them what you want and then they stab at your body with a needle?”
Leo let out a small scoff which had smoke billowing out of his lips and nose as if he was a chimney. “ No, darling- they shave, sanitise and then they stab at your body with a needle.”
“That made me feel so much better.”
Ignoring the evident sarcasm, Leo simply smiled. “ You’re welcome, blondie.”
Wil, ruffling at his hair, mumbled, “Shut up.”
Leo, who was significantly enjoying teasing Will, was cut off by Piper- one of the last people Will expected to see at the tattoo parlor. But on a second look, the tattoos on her abdomen spiraling up to her breasts and arms made Will wonder why he never noticed them.
“Oh Will- you’re actually here?” Piper's surprised voice rang out.
“Unfortunately.”
“Well the artist is ready for you,” Piper ushered him towards the dark room, only illuminated by the UV lights.
Will visibly gulped. Leo and Piper couldn’t help but interlock eyes and snort a little- after all, it was simply adorable at how nervous this newbire was.
Will took small steps and the second he passed the door, it slammed shut.
What the fuck- do the doors here have a mind of their own?
“Come in- take a seat,” A voice commanded. Will, who didn’t really have any choice but to listen to what he was being told, fumbled around, trying to figure out where he was meant to be going. It seemed that Will, in his internal chaos, did not notice the tattoo artist's leg propped up to the side and therefore, when Will finally did notice the leg- it had been the hard way.
He tripped and the next thing he knew, his wrist had made a new best friend. Bruised and swollen, Will’s wrist heavily ached- forcing him to let out a small groan of pain.
“Fuck, are you okay?” the voice rang out. Will heard a relative amount of fumbling and heavy footsteps and suddenly the room was flooded with light.
The face that he was met with was not one he was expecting. The boy had mid length hair- while it wasn’t really long, it was flowing over the nape of his neck slightly and it looked like it really got in the way of his eyes. He watched as the boy seperated the pieces of hair covering his eyes, creating an effortless look.
His face radiated an emotion that Will couldn’t describe- sadness? Or was it simply the face of someone who was content with little?
“Are you okay?” The man asked. Will watched- he had never seen such dynamic expressions and the way this man's face morphed into an expression of concern had him wrapt with all.
Will could only nod stupidly, his hand still clutching at his bruised wrist.
“Dya mind if I have a look at that anyway?” The artist insisted as he grabbed a med kit and sat on his spinning chair before wheeling himself towards Will who now sat on the chair that he was originally appointed.
He gently cradled Will’s wrist between his fingers, turning it round and round. His face contorted between emotion of worry and concern.
“It’s okay,” Will re-assured . “ It’s not sprained or broken, just a bit of bruising and swelling. Should be gone by tomorrow morning.”
“You sure?”
“I’m a doctor.”
“Ah,” He smiled slightly. “ I shouldn’t question you, Dr..?”
“Solace- but Will is fine. How about you?”
“Nico- Now let's have a look at what you want huh?” He closed the notebook he had been creating designs in before Will walked in and pulled out a collection of the most popular designs so far.
“These are the trending ones currently but I can always pull out something else if you want. Or if you have your own design that you wanted, I can try with it,” Nico offered. He pulled out a cigarette and flicked his lighter.- once, twice and a third time before grunting and pulling out a different one. Will watched, hypnotized, as Nico lit the cigarette.
Nico looked up and caught Will staring and shyly asked. “ You don’t mind do you?”
“No… but you should try and refrain from smoking. It’s really, really bad for you and I say this as a doctor.”
“You’re the 4th person today who has said that.”
“I’m alarmed that you managed to smoke that many times today,” Will said with concern.
Ignoring what Will had said, Nico continued. “Anyway, have you chosen anything yet?”
Will let out a heavy breath. “ Ah, no. My friends kinda forced me here but nothing here really matches… me.”
“What about this flower? Or the skull? “
Will shrugged. “ I don't think I’d want those on my skin permanently”
Nico nodded and continued smoking, while Will flipped through the latest designs. Nothing seemed to catch his eye as much as something he could have sworn he saw earlier. It was a stylised sun tatoo- nothing necessarily special but it reminded him of his mum- and his home.
“Excuse me,” Wil started, causing Nico to put his cigarette down in the ashtray, “ I was just wondering if the designs in that were available?”
Will pointed to the notebook That Nico had closed earlier. He watched as Nico hesitated. His face seemed to be stuck between wanting to let Will sneak a peek but it also seemed to want to tell him to stop.
However, his hand simply made up his mind and shoved the book across the table in Will’s direction.
Daintily, with the utmost care, Will opened the first page and his eyes almost watered at the immense detail and beauty poured into these designs. It looked like the heart and soul of the artist had been etched into every little petal, every small ray and eventually after gaping at each page he found the design he had spotted earlier.
The sun wasn’t special but it held Will’s eyes so much that Nico told him, “ Close your mouth. You’re practically drooling.”
“This one,” Will pointed to the stylised sun, “ I want this one.”
Nico scanned his eyes over it before humming and nodding. He put out his cigarette and got up.
“Where d'ya want it?”
“Chest- left side,” Will blurted out. He didn’t know why he wanted it there- perhaps because he wanted the thing that reminded him of his mother to be as close to his heart as possible.
Nico nodded as he prepared everything. Then he turned to Will. “ You realise you’ll need to take off your shirt?”
Will blushed and looked away as he started unbuttoning the top of his shirt. Meg had dragged him out of the hospital as soon as his shift had ended and thrown him into the tattoo parlour and therefore he was still wearing a crisp white shirt.
“Do I need to take off the whole thing?”
Nico took a quick look at Will. The sight that met his eyes was surprising- he used to seeing the chest of his clients but for some reason the sight of a very attractive and intelligent young man before him was very different. He seemed to be looking away as a blush graced his cheeks and ears. His shirt was unbuttoned just enough for Nico to see Will’s muscled chest.
How did a doctor have enough time to work out like that?
“Uh... just a bit more, I don’t want the needle to catch on the side of your shirt.” Nico reiterated, even though he was lying.
“Okay, so now, I'm just going to clean the area and then I’ll trace the sketch before tattooing it on. Do you want red or black?”
“Uh- you can choose,” Will sighed, desperate to get it done and over with.
Nico nodded. He slipped on some gloves and wiped at Will’s chest with an antiseptic. Will flinched at the cold wipe and the soft touch of the artist before him .
“Sorry,” Will murmured, “ It’s cold.”
Nico simply nodded as he began sketching the outline of the tattoo. Will tipped his head back, unable to meet the eyes of Nico ro even look at what was happening. He could feel the tickly touch of the pen on his skin and the soft brush of Nico’s glove on his skin every once in a while.
“All done. Now for the painful part. You may feel like you’re getting stung by a bee a lot,” Nico warned. “Try not move a lot, it will make it harder for me.”
Will, who couldn’t formulate words at this point, simply nodded. “I’d let you squeeze my hand, but unfortunately- I need both,” Nico smiled as reassurance.
He heard the buzzing of the gun and braced himself. The needle poked and prodded as he expected and at times he did wish he had stolen some morphine from the hospital beforehand but all in all, he managed to get the tattoo without bursting into tears and without ruining hids tattoo.
“All done,'' Nico said as he covered the tattoo.
“When do I get to see it?” Will asked, curiously, happier that it was over.
“In a few days- it just needs to sink in.”
Wil sat there, unsure of what to do next. He had paid and was now just sitting in an empty room with his tattoo artist. Was he meant to just say goodbye? Wasn't that kind of harsh?
But Will realised, had this been anybody else or any other appointment- he wouldn't want to be staying for any extra time. Did he want to be friends with this guy? Maybe it was that- yes, it would be that. As someone who was socially awkward, Will knew that he liked hanging out with people; he simply wasn't very good at it
Just as he was going to ask for his number, Nico passed him a slip of paper. “ Here’s my number. Call me when you’re free.”
With that and a wink, Will was left in the empty tattoo room.
#writersmonth#solangelo#will solace#nico di angelo#leo valdez#piper mclean#meg mcaffery#will solace fic#nico di angelo fanfic#nico x will#will x nico#solangelo fanfic#leo valdez fanfic#piper mclean fanfic#meg mcaffery fanfic#nico x will fanfic#will x nico fanfic#solangelo fluff#will solace fanfic#hoo#pjo#pjo fanfic#hoo fanfic
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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:
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