#and you are enjoying Mat in the most correct possible way

[toomanyfandomsneverenoughtime]

The "my love for Mat Baynton is normal and healthy" starter pack (inspo from a comment by @the-illuminated-one and many, many, many conversations with @the-illuminated-one and @fckedupnerd - love you, girls ❤️)

#mat baynton #mathew baynton #thomas thorne #jamie winton #ariel conroy #chris pitt-goddard #bill (2015) #sam pinkett #this gifset is probably only going to appeal to me and the two other weirdos (affectionate) that i know will like it #but if it appeals to more people and you interact with it in any way #just know that i love and respect you #and you are enjoying Mat in the most correct possible way #😏😏😏 #tmfnet edit

[writeforfandoms]

Drinking Gasoline

For the Alex Keller Challenge hosted by @glitterypirateduck

Some sparring with Alex leads to flirtation, and maybe more.

I used "Don't look at me like that" for this one. And lots of flirting.

Warnings: Flirting, kissing, light sparring, more flirting.

Word count: 1k

You smirked at Alex, standing across from him. He'd asked for your help in going over a few things. It was one of the things you liked about him - his ego didn't get in his way. 

“Sure you're ready, Keller?” You kept the twunt light, easy-going, fun. Not serious. He was already probably one of the most dangerous people you worked with. 

And you didn't just mean his combat skills. 

“Oh I'm ready for you.” He grinned, just as easy and teasing. 

You chuckled and started moving, going through the steps slowly at first to be sure he saw it all. 

His form was good, as always. He was attentive, gaze intent on you, not at all worried about taking instruction from a woman. When he ran through the moves on his own, you stepped around him, watching. 

But he was good. He was gorgeous really, tank top showing off toned shoulders, hair just a little mussed from the activity. 

“Good,” you murmured. “Now let's see you put it in practice.” You stepped across to the other side of the mats, smirking. 

Alex met your smirk with his own, easy and confident. Yet another reason you liked sparring with him - he was always a good challenge. 

The first time, you got him on the mats quickly. His attempt to buck you off just seated you more firmly on him. 

You grinned down at him, privately enjoying the sight of him under you. “Nice try,” you said, amused. 

“Oh just wait.” He grinned back at you, apparently totally undaunted. “Still gettin’ warmed up for you.” 

You fought down the warmth he inspired seemingly effortlessly. You two bantered. It was a thing you did. Not a big deal. 

“Well, unless you plan to spend all afternoon on your back, you better get moving.” You pushed up to your feet and stepped away, giving him a chance to get up and back into position. 

But you caught him licking his lips, eyes on you as he stood. Electricity zinged down your spine, the thrill of possibility. 

Unless you were misreading this…? 

You got caught up in the heat in his eyes, the way he moved. You forgot to check his feet. 

Really, you had nobody but yourself to blame when he swept your legs out, sending your sprawling to the mats. He was on you before you could recover, pinning you down, face close to yours. 

“What was that about spending the afternoon on my back?” He teased, grip firm without hurting you. 

You laughed, a little breathless. “I stand corrected,” you murmured. “Or, well. Y'know.” 

He chuckled, easing his grip on you and backing off slowly. His touch lingered on your skin, and he didn't go far. “One more go?”

“Sure.” You pushed up to your feet again, breathing in deep. One more and then you'd go clear your head. This was training, not flirting. 

Now you just needed to remind your heart (and certain other parts of you) of that fact. 

“You seem distracted,” Alex taunted as the two of you circled slowly, looking for openings. “Am I not entertaining enough for you?” 

You snorted. “Oh, you're a handful,” you agreed, letting your gaze rake over him, just once, slowly. Slowly enough that you were sure he caught it. 

He licked his lips again. “Seems like you're up to the challenge.”

“I do love a good challenge.” You shifted your weight, looking for an opening. 

Alex smiled slowly, shifting his weight. You lunged towards him, not holding back. 

This round lasted longer than the previous two, the two of you trading blows and both trying to get the other down to the mats. You were both sweaty when you stepped back, looking for an opening. You just needed a little–

Alex moved fast, one final flurry of movements that ended with you face-down on the mats, his weight pinning you down. You slapped the mats twice, and he released you, grinning broadly. 

“Well? I pass muster?” 

You laughed a little, sitting up carefully. “Yeah you do,” you agreed, rolling your shoulders. “Damn, Keller.” 

His smile dipped, just a little. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No.” You smiled, softer than you intended. “I'm fine.” 

Alex shuffled forward, one hand on your shoulder, giving you a quick once-over. Then another, slower look, his lips parting just a little. 

“Don't look at me like that,” you whispered, eyes wide and fixed on his lips. 

“Like what?” He leaned in closer, slowly, his hand creeping closer to your collarbone. 

The door hit the wall with a clang, and you both jumped. 

You swallowed, looking back at Alex. Moment of truth. “Let's finish this elsewhere?” 

Alex smiled slowly. “I know a place.” He stood and offered you a hand up, which you took. The two of you passed the group of four with only a nod. 

Alex opened the door to his room, allowing you in first. As soon as the door closed behind him he was on you, fingers curled around your waist, barely any space between the two of you. 

“Tell me this is okay,” he murmured. “Tell me I read this right.” 

“You did,” you reassured him, one hand curling around the nape of his neck. “Now shut up and kiss me.” 

He grinned, cheeky and a little adoring. “Yes ma'am.” He kissed you passionately, the two of you gravitating closer until there was no space between you. 

Finally. 

#alexkellerchallenge #alex keller x you #alex keller x reader #f!reader

[justannadahfanfictor]

The Queens successor: part 1

Hey there, so the last few days I’ve been hella into the movie Epic from 2013 and so I ofc came up with a reader Oc idea that I’m going to write. It’s going to be 3 parts. Tbh I can’t really see Ronin with anyone other than Tara but I love the sunshine x grumpy trope. I ofc wanted it to be in the Epic universe so this is what I’ve come up with. Hope you enjoy ❣️

*authors note: hey there I just wanted to apologize in the case I’m not using the correct tags to post this. I saw a post of someone ranting saying it makes the person super angry when the post should be y/n but it’s not. If I knew that I wouldn’t have started writing it the way I did. Now on that note I am going to continue writing at least the rest of this story the way it’s already being written especially because it’s an Oc, but yea, I hope y’all enjoy it as much as possible especially if you’re someone who gets angry when things aren’t written as y/n. Thanks for your understanding.

Word count for pt 1: 3k+

Reader: Oc named Elizabeth but everyone calls her Liz, Poppy, Princess or Princess Poppy

She is Queen Tara’s successor. Queen Tara and Ronin have looked after her since she was a baby.

Love interest: a leaf man named Michael. He is the reader’s personal guard as well as her best friend. He is 2nd in command. Though he is a few years older than Poppy, they grew up together.

Reader and Michael have a relationship very similar to Tara and Ronin (sunshine x grumpy).

This is just a cute fic in the universe of Epic and how Tara and Ronin helped bring the couple together.

There will be quite a bit of parallels in this story compared to Tara and Ronin

17 years prior: Queen Tara’s POV

Today had been a long day. Boggins had become relentless leading to lots and lots of meetings with officials trying to come up with a plan to keep them from crossing into Moonhaven territory. Of course there was also dealing with my feelings for a certain leafman I’ve known for years. I want to be more than friends with him, but I don’t want to ruin the friendship we have. He can be so hard to read sometimes. It made nights like these feel lonely, gloomy; which fit right in with the way the weather was tonight. I was getting ready for bed, listening to the rain as it was really coming down out there.

Thunder began to rumble in when I heard it, clear as day; a baby in distress. I took a second to look out my window where I saw it. There on the palace steps was what looked to be a basket. I extended some vines to bring the basket to me, wanting to get it out of the rain. The sounds of a baby crying became louder as the basket became closer. I pulled the basket up in through the window where I saw the most beautiful baby. She didn’t look to be wearing regular clothes but had an English poppy flower covering her almost like a blanket. I picked the baby up to console her and dry her off a bit when I saw there was a note in the basket. It seemed almost like a cryptic, prophetic message, written in beautiful calligraphy. “She is the secret to future peace; when the time comes and you are deceased.” There was no sign as to who had wrote this. As I went to turn the paper over to look for any answers to who this little girl was, I gave myself a paper cut, hissing out in pain. As I was holding the infant who was now quiet in my arms, she reached out to hold my pointer finger (the finger that was cut). I was going to try to give her a different finger when a soft, warm light shined bright from the palm of her hand. Within seconds, the cut and any evidence there was a cut there before was gone, all healed up. It seemed clear as day this was my sign from Mother Nature. This baby girl was to be the next Queen of Moonhaven. As I was admiring her little features (a tiny button nose, beautiful blue eyes, fiery red hair) she started to whine and cry. I held her close as I rubbed her back speaking sweetly to her. “Alright my little princess; you’re safe with me. What’s the matter hmm? Are you cold?”.

A knock was heard on my door a guard calling out to me; “Your majesty is everything alright in there? I hear crying.” I opened the door to speak with the soldier, holding my little girl close trying to get her to calm down. I told the soldier “everything is alright. I need one of you to go get commander Ronin and bring him back here. Tell him it’s urgent and I need another one of you to find some baby clothes and blankets as well as any other supplies you can find at this hour of night. We will get the rest tomorrow.” The guard was quick to follow orders and go get Ronin. Another guard was quick to come back maybe 10 minutes later with a few baby onsies, diapers and a nice warm blanket. As she handed over the supplies she explained she had had a baby about 2 years ago and these were all extra supplies she had that I could have. I thanked her for her generosity and told her she would be rewarded greatly in the near future. She told me it was not problem but I insisted. She thanked me and then was dismissed to head back home to her own little one.

Less than 30 minutes from my order, Ronin came running to my room looking panicked. He always worries too much. “Your highness I came as soon as I could. What seems to be the problem” He crouched at my side holding my waist lightly inspecting me to check for any wounds and to analyze my face for any giveaways from my mood. I blushed slightly but tried not to say anything about him holding me otherwise he would stop and make distance between us. I told him jokingly “Ronin how many times have I told you just to call me Tara. Everything’s fine, but I wanted you to be the first to know about this. Come sit.” I said making room on the bed next to me. Since it was just the two of us he seemed to have let his guard down sitting next to me holding my hand rubbing his thumb on the back for comfort. “Sorry, what is it you need to tell me” he asked giving me all his attention. He barely even acknowledged that there was a basket sitting near me on the bed as well. “Well,” I started, “I was getting ready for bed when I heard a baby crying from outside.” I pulled the basket towards us showing him there was a baby sleeping sound in that basket. Ronin being the overthinker he is started asking every and any question making sure the baby was not a set up from the Boggins. I stopped him quickly and told him “she’s a sign of the next Queen. Look” I said handing him the note written. He analyzed it quietly before saying “I’ve never seen writing or paper like this before. What do you wish to do with her?” I ran my finger softly over babygirl’s face smiling telling him “it looks like I’ve finally gotten my wish to become a mom in this lifetime.”

I could feel him looking at me and when I went to look back at him, I could feel it. There were no words that needed to be said to feel his love for me. He brought his hand up to my cheek to hold my face lovingly. I could feel the pull we had towards each other, the space between us becoming smaller and smaller when my sweet girl started to whine, wanting to be held. We both pulled away slightly blush and giggling a little. I loved seeing him smile. It was one of the most beautiful things to see/experience. I went to pick her up when Ronin asked if he could hold her instead. I nodded smiling. He picked her up holding her like he was afraid she was gonna break. She looked at him curiously before wrapping her hand around his finger, yawning and curling in closer to him, getting comfy in his arms. She looked so small in his arms. If I could fall even more in love with this man, in that moment, I did. “She’s so small” he said, holding her close. “Do you know what you want to name her?” He asked. I rubbed her nose to her forehead lightly trying to put her back to sleep while she was in his arms and nodded. “I think I am going to name her Elizabeth, but Liz for short or Poppy for a nickname since she came with a big poppy flower.” He smiled looking down at her. “Hello then Poppy. It’s nice to meet you. I promise to always protect you and your mother no matter what it takes.”

He gave her a kiss on the forehead before we put her back in her basket making her comfy. He stood up to go after that and told me “I should get going since it seems we’ll have a busy day tomorrow.” Before he could leave I quickly grabbed his hand. “Stay, please.” My confidence seemed to dwindle a bit so I added “she seems to like you, just in case I need help with her in the night”. He nodded and agreed taking off his shoes before getting under the covers as Liz was put on the ground in her basket next to his side of the bed. I got under the covers and turned off the light. Right before sleep over took me, I felt an arm curl around my waist and bring me closer. I fell asleep, smiling, content with being in the arms of the one I love.

A few months later:

Elizabeth was secretly a blessing for Ronin and i’s relationship. Over the last few months, we had fallen into a routine of taking care of her, him staying over most nights. The kingdom was very happy to hear of the new successor and although many didn’t say anything, I could see and feel they were happy for whatever was going on between Ronin and I.

Things however almost took a turn for the worst about a week ago. We were sitting having tea after a meeting about new procedures for Boggins at the border and how many leafmen had said they felt something big was about to happen. Ronin was holding Liz making faces at her trying to get her to smile and giggle. I looked at him smiling and without even thinking I told him quietly but confidently “I love you”. He stopped what he was doing and asked me “what did you say?” I was scared to tell him but I figured it was now or never. I took a deep breath and started “ I said I love you. I knew I loved you before, I’ve known for years, but seeing you with Poppy, seeing how good you are with her, the closer we’ve gotten since she came into our lives, I can’t avoid my feelings for you anymore. I love you Ronin. I want to wake up next to you every morning and go to sleep next to you every night. I want to work alongside you until my last breath, I want to make you smile as much as I possibly can because to see you smile is to see one of the most beautiful things on earth.”

He looked shocked at my confession with a little bit of fear as well. He didn’t say anything just put Liz back in her stroller and told me “sorry, I forgot I have to go. Meeting with the other leafmen about a possible ambush.” He couldn’t even look me in the eyes. Had I been reading the situation all wrong? A few tears rolled down my cheeks as I was left with my daughter alone.

It’s been about a week and I’ve had very little interaction with Ronin and it’s not from lack of trying. Any chance he gets to avoid me or not talk about what happened a week ago he does. It’s taking a toll on Elizabeth. She’s been extra fussy. In the night sometimes it takes hours to get her to sleep because I know she just wants him to hold her. I may be her mother, but along the way, Ronin became her father and she’s 100% a daddy’s girl. After another night of little to no sleep because of not being able to calm Poppy, I finally snapped.

It was late morning when Ronin came in to debrief with me on the training they were going to be doing today closer to the border, which would leave the village and palace heavily under protected but I figured it was alright. There had been no attacks in months, today hopefully would be no different. I had been nodding off a little towards the end when Ronin tried to get my attention. “Is everything alright Queen Tara? You seem really tired.” Wonder what gave it away. Maybe the eyebags I had from multiple sleepless nights, or the constant yawning. “No everything is not alright” I said with a deep sigh, trying not to explode. I continued on “I know you are upset with me about last week but that doesn’t give you the right to take it out on Elizabeth. Whether you like it or not she has become attached to you these last few months. I have stayed up the last week every single night because she won’t stop crying. She cries until she’s exhausted and then falls asleep for maybe 30 minutes and then cries some more. She wants you. She wants her father.” “Queen Tara-“ he went to speak when Poppy started to cry from the other room. With tears about to overflow from my eyes I took a deep breath and told him “have a good training, stay safe” and then headed to find my princess. I picked her up holding her close to me. “Shh, I know honey, I know, mama’s here. I know I’m not the one you want but please try to calm down for me” I said while rubbing circles on her back walking around the room a bit. What I didn’t see was Ronin standing in the doorway, with guilt taking over his facial features before he left for training.

Ronin’s POV:

Hearing Tara tell me she loves me just made me panic. I was so happy to hear what I feel is reciprocated, but I just had so many other things running through my mind. What if because I am a high ranking officer she is used as collateral damage. What if Princess Poppy was taken to get to me, to torture me? What if I’m a bad father, a bad husband? What if my serious nature weighs on Tara’s happiness? “You okay there Commander? You seem really in your head lately.” My best friend says to me as we start off the training. He was the only one who knew what happened last week and the only one I really talked to about my love for our Queen and childhood friend. “Yea, just got into it a bit with Tara about the princess before we left.” I said sadly looking down at the forces already working on their maneuvers and training. My friend nodded, putting a hand on my shoulder and just told me “dude you gotta apologize and tell her how you feel. You’ve wanted to be with her for forever, now’s your chance.”

Before I could respond, our forces were attacked by Boggins, a good amount of them but not nearly enough for this to be it after months of no attacks. Before killing one of the last ones that came to attack us I held my sword to his throat and said “where are the rest of you?” He smirked spitting out some blood before saying really arrogantly, “We heard there’s a new princess of Moonhaven. We just want to come and introduce ourselves to her. Btw, you’ll never make it back in time to protect her.” Before he could say anything else I killed him and yelled out to my 2nd in command. “The Queen and Princess are in danger. Keep 1/2 of the soldiers here in case this is a ploy and the other half come with me. Move like your life depends on it.” I called for my bird and took off before anyone else was even following behind. I had to get there before either of them got hurt. If I cant tell Tara how I feel, if I never get to hold Liz again, I will never forgive myself.

When we got back to the village, many were in lockdown as Boggins were wreaking havoc. I killed a few as I flew towards the palace. When I got to the palace, I saw dead leafmen on the ground. I hurried in, sword at the ready. A few more leafmen had finally arrived for backup. There were so many Boggins. I started killing on a frenzy once I heard my princess crying. I followed the crying to a room upstairs. It was coming from a room we created to be a safe room years ago, we just never thought we’d have to use it. “Tara” I called out frantically. “Are you in there?” “Yes we’re okay. Is it safe to come out yet?” She asked. It was so relieving to hear her voice. “Not yet” I told her. “I want to make sure theres no Boggins hiding anywhere” I added. Once we did a perimeter sweep and everything was cleared I knocked on the door telling her it was all clear. Tara opened the door and before she could say anything, I pulled her in by her waist with one hand and cupped her cheek gently with the other and kissed her. I put every emotion I had been feeling over the last week into that kiss. I pulled back when I needed air and put our foreheads together. “I love you too” I told her quietly.

“I thought I was never going to be able to say that to you.” I was wrapped up in some vines and lifted off my feet as she said to me “im not completely helpless yknow” which made Poppy giggle from her place on Tara’s hip. “I am aware” I said unamused. “You’re the life of the forest, looking after you is my duty. And Poppy my little princess must carry on your legacy when the time comes. She’s already full of life herself.” I felt the vines loosen and put me back down on the ground but one tickling the side of my face. “Say it again” she whispered, almost as if she were afraid this was all a dream. “I love you” I told her again as she got closer and kissed me again, this kiss full of passion and love. We broke the kiss when I started to hear whining coming from Liz who did not like not having our attention it seems. She was getting ready to start crying again when I picked her up and brought her into my arms.

Almost immediately the whining ceased as I brought her to my chest patting and rubbing circles on her back. “Aww, did someone miss me. I’m so sorry my baby, I’m right here. Daddy’s not going anywhere.” She was cradled in my arms and within minutes, she was knocked out. As I looked down at her lovingly Tara said sadly “she’s missed you so much” I held her closer telling her “I’m not going anywhere this time. I’m sorry I ran the last time. I just didn’t want to put you in danger and didn’t know if I was enough to be with an absolute queen both metaphorically and literally.” The rest of the day was spent together, just holding my princess in my arms and spending time with the love of my life. Things really had changed so much these last few months but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Poppy truly is a blessing.

Authors note: hey there I hope you enjoyed the first part! I wanted to add drawing I created of the oc characters Poppy and Michael 🙂 I’m also gonna add the edit of epic that has just had its claws dug into me these last few days. I want a love like this 😩

#ronin x tara #epic 2013 x reader #fluff #angst #ronin x daughter! reader #Queen tara x daughter! reader #oc character #sunshine x grumpy #epic 2013

[polefitnessdancing]

#bestgiftsforpoledancers #dancepoleceilingmount #dancepolecleaner #dancepoles #onlinepoledancelessons #polecrashmat #poledancegiftideas #PoleDanceGripAid #poledancingaccessories #poledancingclothes

[eidgifts]

Islamic Perfume, Islamic Jewellery and many other Islamic accessories

There are a lot of options when it comes to gifts for Muslims, and this includes everything from traditional items like ulsters and hijabs to more contemporary items like Islamic perfume and Islamic Jewellery. If you're not sure what to get someone, or if you just don't know where to start, we've put together a list of some of our favorite items for Muslim friends and family. Happy shopping!

Eid gifts, Islamic perfume, Islamic jewellery, Islamic necklace

Eid gifts are a great way to show your love and appreciation for someone special, whether it's a family member, friend, or romantic partner. Islamic perfume is an important part of the Muslim tradition and can be used both during religious events like Eid as well as daily life. Islamic jewellery includes both traditional wedding accessories like Islamic necklace and earrings as well as more modern pieces like bracelets and rings. And finally, an interesting piece of Islamic necklace would be something that combines multiple styles together - such as a silk hea d scarf wrapped around your neck with beautiful gemstone pendants hanging down below. Some people also gifts Islamic books to their friends and family.

1. Introducing the prayer mat with built-in ayat ul kursi.

This prayer mat with a built-in ayat ul kursi is perfect for anyone who wants to pray in the easiest and most comfortable way possible. The mat has sections that are specifically designed for kneeling, sitting, or lying down, so you will always be in the correct position when praying. Plus, its lightweight design makes it easy to carry around wherever you go.

2. How to use the prayer mat with built-in ayat ul kursi.

There is no one-size-fits-all answer to this question, as the prayer mat with built-in ayat ul kursi will vary depending on your specific needs and preferences. However, some tips on how to use it effectively include placing it in a sacred place such as your home or office, positioning yourself in front of it when you pray, and reciting prayers quietly while resting your hands on the mat. If you find that the prayer mat helpsyou focus and stay connected to God during prayers, then keep using it! Ultimately, what matters most is that you enjoy using it and feel its beneficial effects.

3. The benefits of using the prayer mat with built-in ayat ul kursi.

The prayer mat with built-in ayat ul kursi is an excellent way to stay connected with Allah Almighty throughout the day. It helps you to recite prayers properly, and also has a place for you to place your hand so that you can touch and feel the presence of Allah. The divine message that is sent through this act of contact often provides relief from physical or emotional challenges.

Conclusion -

Thanks for reading our blog! In this post, we talked about the prayer mat with built-in ayat ul kursi. We know that there are many people who are looking for Islamic accessories and we wanted to make sure that our readers know about our brand new product.Thanks for reading and have a blessed day!

#Eid gifts #islamic perfume #islamic jewellery #islamic necklace

[tightwadspoonies]

Punk Gardening!

It’s that time of year again where you are all out there planting gardens and being anxious about how none of your seeds have come up, or they’re “leggy” or there’s too many weeds or you didn’t water them enough.

And I’m here to say screw all that. You’ve been sold what a “garden should look like” by pesticide and herbicide companies. To be perfectly honest you’ve been sold that about your lawn too, but that’s for another post. It's time to take back gardening and grow some delicious, nutritious food!

So let’s talk about some things that can make you grow a happy, healthy, gnarly-butt garden that’s gonna grow a lot of food and take very little actual effort.

First: Weeds

There’s no such thing. Weeds are a myth. There are plants in your garden that weren’t the ones you planted? Great. Plants like to grow in your dirt. That should make you happy. It means the ones you want to grow will probably also like your dirt and want to grow their fruit/bodies there.

You’ve probably been told non-planted plants take nutrients from the plants you want there. They don’t. Seriously. For one thing, plants need different things, and clover isn’t going to want the same nutrients as your tomatoes, and it’s also probably not going to out-compete your tomatoes for sun. In fact, “weeds” also contribute good things and generally work together with your other plants.

Good plants to see growing in your garden:

Clover: A nitrogen fixer, meaning it will help your garden self-fertilize year to year. You want as much of this as possible in your lawn, too. It’s killed by a lot of major herbicides though, so to justify it’s use, you’ve probably gotten told you want a monoculture of bladelike leaves for the “perfect lawn”. A perfect lawn like that is both really hard to keep alive if not the exact correct type for your yard, and also generally needs added nitrogen fertilizer… because you removed the clover with your herbicide… sigh.

Dandelions: These are great because they have a really deep taproot that breaks up ground and brings water and nutrients to the surface for your other plants to enjoy. This means less watering, less fertilizing, and less need to till the soil before planting! Plus, young dandelion greens, while bitter, make a great topping for a salty sandwich or pasta dish. Their early-season buds can be pickled for capers, and if you’re vegan, cheap, or just want some variety, you can make dandelion “honey” by using dandelion flowers to flavor a sugar syrup.

Henbit: not going to hurt anything, gives good root mats that can help keep water in the soil around your plants, and is also edible, if bitter.

Grass: Similar to henbit, it creates a root mat that aerates soil, keeps in moisture, and prevents erosion.

Plantain: There’s not as much I can say about this one, but it’s not going to hurt anything. And you can make tea out of it if you like.

The only plants I would really take out are the spiky ones (that might make it hard for you to access your food come time for harvest, and are easier to remove when small) and really tall ones with large leaves, which genuinely may shade out smaller plants, especially at the beginning of growing season. If you have a bed near a tree that produces a lot of seedlings, you may also want to be selective about which ones you keep, if any.

Second: Choosing Seeds

You can go the cheap/free way (link), and make yourself a nice dumpster garden out of discarded food scraps. If you’re particularly daring or broke I recommend going to an actual dumpster, since a lot of the discarded produce will be overripe and most plant-able. If you’re gonna invest in seeds, though- make them ones that are native to your area. As my dad found out after several failed years of 2-fruit harvests- growing lemons in Ohio is expensive and futile. Something like sweet potatoes or squash though will be a much better use of your energy.

You can easily recoup your investment in good seeds if you get heirloom and save the seeds for next year, limiting the number of times you’ll have to buy them in a lifetime. A lot of time it’s as easy as letting a few plants/fruits “go to seed” or overripen, then remove and dry the seeds. This is especially easy for brassicas, lettuces, and greens, but can also be done for tomatoes, cucumbers, squashes, and others with a little research and strategic planting to ensure minimal inopportune cross pollination.

Third: Planting and Care of Your Plants

Historically, nature has been pretty dang successful in growing things. Even things humans have decided we like to eat. The biggest thing you can do for yourself here is think “what would nature do?”.

Nature doesn’t till. Generally you can help root veg (carrots, beets, potatoes, etc…) get a little bigger/more uniform by roughing up the soil, but you don’t have to do it for anything else. Not tilling actually helps plants grow longer and more complex root systems, which decreases the need for watering and fertilizing, and they’re more likely to survive high winds.

Nature doesn’t plant things in rows ¼ inch deep. She dumps a ton of seeds in one area, half of them get eaten by birds, the other half sprout and beat each other up trying to get sunlight. A few nice, hardy, delicious plants remain. You can take some advice from this, but also help nature in this regard. I recommend dumping a ton of seeds in a section, then scrabbling your hand through them and the dirt over the area you’d like them to grow. There. Planted. Some will grow too close to each other and may stunt each other’s growth. You can thin to an appropriate distance, and generally eat the sprouts whole in a salad. You’re just gonna have to assume that some of the seeds will be eaten by birds/squirrels and be okay with that. Seeds are cheap and a renewable resource- especially if you got them from a dumpster.  

Nature doesn’t start seeds indoors. Just plant when it says on the packet outside.

Nature doesn’t water things regularly. If the soil is super dry when you plant, you may want to dampen it with some tap water. Other than that, water only when it’s been dry for a week or so, or the ground is exceptionally dry despite your clover and grass cover.

Nature doesn’t use petroleum-based fertilizers. She uses composted organic material (vegetable food scraps, yard waste if you’re on a 1-year compost cycle, plus pet waste, meat and dairy scraps if you’re on a 3-5 year cycle), and urine. Yes your urine. It’s great. High in nitrogen. Very free. Add it to your compost or use it directly by mixing it with about 3 parts water. You can either apply it in the rain or just try not to get too much of it on the leaves- pee plus sun will burn leaves.  

Finally, nature doesn’t neatly harvest on a particular schedule. Leave a tomato plant out and watch a deer go to town on it. We actually had all of our tomato plants last year eaten down to nubs early in the season, and they came back and gave us one of the best harvests ever! I don’t recommend this as a strategy, per se, but if you’re picking something like greens or basil, harvest by just grabbing handfuls and ripping it off the plant. Our basil and other greens LOVE this and grow massively when we do this.

Fourth: Miscellaneous Tips

Move your plants around year to year. Crop rotation isn’t just a big farm thing. Tomatoes are going to take what they need from the soil but leave the rest and add something back with their own decomposition, which might be something your squash wants next year, etc.. You don’t have to be perfect about it, just try to put things in different places from the year before.

Speaking of which, once you’ve gotten what you can out of them, just chop the plants up and cover them with a little topsoil or mulch at the end of the season. Saves you time and returns everything you can back to the soil. You may get volunteers next season, but really the more the merrier!

Also- some plants you can eat a lot more of than others. For example, the only thing edible on a tomato plant is the tomatoes. But radishes? You can eat the root, the greens, the flowers, and the seed pods, and they are all great! Look into other things you have growing and you might end up with more food than you thought!

Your plants will look weird. That’s okay. Some of the leaves may rot or fall off. The tubers will be weird shapes because they grew next to a rock. Some of them will get eaten or break and be a little behind because they had to grow back. Your tomatoes may have a crack or two in them. Just eat those first. Produce isn’t supposed to be as perfect as it is at the store, and it’s not a problem that it loses a few leaves or is “leggy” at first or other things people worry about. Plants grow, sometimes weirdly. That’s really, genuinely, okay. It very likely won’t harm the end product at all.

#gardening #homesteading #farming #low effort homesteading #tightwadery #food

[gunkreads]

I was thinking on my coffee walk this morning about a post I saw a while ago (possibly by @highladyluck sorry if I’m tagging you for no reason) along the lines of “how do neurotypical people enjoy Wheel of Time and its characters?” That wasn’t the phrasing, but that was kind of the gist. I’m... neurotypical as far as I know. At the time, the answer I gave was basically “I don’t need to see myself in characters or relate directly to enjoy them”, but I’m realizing now there’s something more to it.

I may have said something offensive here without realizing it because I’m really no expert on this topic; sorry if that’s the case and please let me know so I can correct it.

A lot of us agree that Jordan has a lot of social ideas that are sort of ahead of their time, but many have... poor execution. Some are just obfuscated too much. A good example for what I’m talking about is Rand’s toxic masculinity inherited from Lan: it’s explicitly a problem, but is rarely addressed in terms that we’d use in modern times. It’s never called “masculinity”, even--I believe “woolheadedness” is most commonly used.

But to the point: As someone who does not live with a diagnosed mental illness or condition, seeing this vast swathe of characters who have serious internal struggles and also don’t have any diagnosed medical issues is... freeing, in a way. Unquestionably, a psychologist (or just someone versed in the field) could diagnose a hundred likely medicatable problems in the main cast, but they aren’t presented as such; rather, they’re presented as character traits (often exacerbated by circumstance).

This lack of acknowledgment of illness, while quite possibly negative in the eyes of neurodivergent and/or disabled people, is actually very relatable to people like me. It’s a sort of message saying “just because you haven’t been officially recognized as Abnormal doesn’t mean you can’t have crippling internal struggles over simple decisions.” I feel like in a lot of the fiction I read (so... take this with a pile of salt), the struggles the WoT cast go through are usually presented in characters who are markedly different from that world’s “normal”. It may not be intentional, but it creates this idea that internal struggle is a result of some kind of condition inside your brain, not just... your personality reacting to a situation. WoT runs with the latter idea. Sure, we have this running theme of Rand going insane, but alongside that we have Perrin’s self-doubt and anger issues, Mat’s... whatever bullshit, Egwene’s burgeoning arrogance and need for control, Nynaeve’s oscillations between extremes of self-esteem, etc. etc.

All these things can definitely be ascribed to chemical imbalances in the brain, I’d imagine. The important thing to me is that they aren’t. No one ever goes up to Perrin and says “Something is fundamentally wrong with you,” they go up to him and say “Something is wrong with the way you’re acting.” Yeah yeah, diagnosing mental illness doesn’t make sense in this world, but there are ways around that in fantasy. Do all these characters have symptoms? Yes. Would treating the cause of those symptoms shorten the story by about 4000 pages? Yes. What matters here to me is that, in keeping with the story’s theme that human agency is one of the most important things in life, these decisions the characters make are a result of the world they’re in and the person they are. Sometimes the person you are has OCD or PTSD or anger issues or BPD.

Wheel of Time, as a series, doesn’t treat those people differently because of whatever disorder(s) they may have; it treats them based on what they do with their agency.

I’m getting onto shaky ground here as far as proving my point goes, but I hope this makes sense. Basically, the fact that the series never taps on the fourth wall and says “hey, look, here’s what we’d say is wrong with this person today” and instead just carries on like everyone is a neurotypical human with a lot of weight on their shoulders is super eye-opening to someone like me. It leaves room for the idea that everyone can go through these struggles and makes me watch my own actions in a new light. The fact that the characters haven’t been described in a way that limits our modern perception of their agency means I can see what they do and easily say “Yes, there’s a chance that with enough pressure in the right places, I could maybe be driven to do the same thing.” To me, firmly establishing that characters are mentally ill makes that much more difficult and is honestly less thought-provoking from my side of the wall.

I’m hesitant to say this was deliberate on Jordan’s part, but I honestly have no idea either way.

#wheel of time #wot

[gaiuswrites]

Thread the Needle | Yoga!Din

Pairing: Modern!Din x Yoga Instructor!Reader

Rating: Explicit (minors, goodbye)

Word count: 3.5k~

Warnings/tags: Yoga!Din (yes, he gets his own warning), hurt/comfort, language, smut, good ol' fashioned cunnilingus, piv

Notes: ✨ HI FRIENDS ✨ Yoga!Din rides again. This idea has been stewing (pun intended, you'll get it later) in my dumb brain for a while now and I've finally decided to write it. Technically, this takes place a little farther into the future (perhaps when the pair is more of an item, and less of a fuckbuddy fling, but thorough plot? We don’t know her). Anyways, enjoy! Cheers x

He doesn’t mean to be dramatic, but it’s the most agonizing sixty minutes of his goddamn life.

He’s seated on his mat, legs folded into a fucking pretzel—lotus pose, a calm voice inside his head corrects—and he’s steaming.

She isn’t here.

He is—Din, for all his faults, showed the fuck up to class but she didn’t, and in her place there’s some smelly old bat, this woman’s wrinkly ass – sits bones – plunked down at the front of the studio— occupying her spot, where she should be.

His eyes stalk the movements of this other woman as she putters around the studio—the godawful stench of something earthy wafting behind her— and it looks wrong. It feels wrong; like a violation somehow—of the space.

Of their space.

“The light in me recognizes the light in you,” they all utter in unison like a fucking hippie cult, and he books it out of there, swiping his mat up with an aggressive slap and rolling it under his arm.

“Hey,” he calls out, pacing towards the front desk. The receptionist— Riley? Kylie? Din can never remember—glances up from her phone, bright eyed.

Poor thing.

“Who the fuck is that?” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder towards the studio, the gaggle of ladies trickling out of it already gossiping and clucking away. Din doesn’t mean to sound accusatory; he doesn’t mean to be this intense. It’s not this girl’s fault, he knows that— but she’s in proximity and she’s shit out of luck.

“M’sorry?” she sputters, blinking up at him.

Breathe, that same voice coos—he can feel the tickle of it behind his ear.

“Our usual Wednesday instructor,” Din begins again, clipped. “Where is she?”

“Oh," she shrugs, "she called in sick.”

With a furrowed brow he pitches forward, craning over the desk. “Is she okay?”

The girl— Miley? —all but flinches back from him, a quizzical expression wormed onto her. “Uhm, yeah she has the flu—nasty one, too, but she’ll probably be back by ne-"

Din doesn’t linger long enough for her to finish. He’s wheeled around, striding from the building, the tinny chime of the bell ringing out as the door creaks closed behind him. The women exchange waggling glances in his wake, tittering in mouthwatering delight—more juicy fodder for their post-yoga soiree.

///

He doesn’t remember driving there. He made a quick stop to the grocery store— their grocery store, now— to pick up what he needed and before he knows it, he’s at her front door, bringing his fist down upon it in hard raps.

He hears movement—can sense it there, can practically imagine it: her lithe body tip toeing over— no, she’s got the flu, maybe it’s more of a shuffle—and peeking through the peephole. There’s a weighty pause and then—

The slow, dubious clicks of unbolting locks, the turning of a handle, the yawn of the wood as it opens.

Her voice is made small with disbelief and exhaustion. “Din?”

“Can I come in?”

She cracks the door ajar, standing in the frame of it now, a thick blue comforter slung over an arm, and she can’t quite mask the stupefied look etched onto her face.

He’s never done this. She’s never done this. He’s been to her place twice—three times, if he counts them fucking in the car in her driveway—and he’s certainly never showed up unannounced.

“Uhm, I-”

“Great.”

Din pushes past her, plastic bag swinging heavy at his side.

“W-What?”

She’s left gaping, mouth and eyes opened incredulously, ogling the way he struts through her entryway, before finally having the wherewithal to close the door. “Hey, what are you-”

“You need to keep your fluids up,” he says roughly—as if it’s obvious—making a beeline towards the kitchen.

She follows after him, bunching the throw snuggly around her shoulders. “Din,” she utters feebly, “I really don’t think you should be here right now.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Please, I don’t wanna get you sick."

He thunks the bag onto the granite countertop, producing two cans.

She doesn’t know why she bothers, it’s not like he’s listening to her anyways. If she’s learned anything about Din Djarin, it’s that he’s nothing if not stubborn—impossibly immovable. He’s tossed his jacket off, slinging it over the island, a determined glint in his eye as he prowls around the kitchen, opening cupboards at random.

“Seriously, I don’t want you catching this. I feel like shit… Oh my god, I look like shit,” she groans in realization, burying her head in the blanket, hermitting herself away.

“You look fine,” he replies gruffly, delving through the drawers in search of a can opener.

Frumpy sweats and a baggy t-shirt with some faded logo on it that’s absolutely hanging off her. Hair tossed up and sloppy, coiled into a loose bun, errant pieces rebelling every which way. A little pale, maybe. Tired eyes. Messy.

Beautiful, he meant. She looks fucking irritatingly beautiful.

Din continues to rifle through her cabinets and he exhales in frustration, “Jesus, where do you keep your pans?”

“Bottom right,” she points begrudgingly.

He grunts, finding one big enough and sets it down on the stove.

She can’t stop fussing over him; making comments here and there, asking if he wants anything, needs anything—water, kombucha, tea, a beer, a snack—if she can help in any way possible—and it nearly sends him over the damn edge.

“Would you quit it and just let me take care of you?” he grits out, and her mouth clamps shut with a pop.

She’s quiet after that, picking anxiously at a thread poking out from the blanket she wears like a shawl—observing as he empties the cans into a large pot, lights the gas stove, and brings it to a boil. She gives him space, stationing herself by the kitchen table, leaning a hip into one of the four chairs there.

Honestly she does try to keep to herself; she tries to accept what Din is doing for her, but she can’t help it. As soon as she sees him ladling the soup into one of her favorite cups—it looks so tiny in his grasp— and bringing it over to her like a goddamn patron saint, she breaks.

“You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“Yeah well, you need to get healthy so you can take your class back from that fucking fossil.”

“Din,” she admonishes.

“Baby,” he gives her a pointed look and she gnaws at the inside of her cheek, a blush blotting her clavicle. “She fucking smells. Now sit your pretty little ass down-”

“But-”

He presses a hand to her shoulder, forcing her to sink into the chair with a soft oomf, and places the bowl in front of her. “Don’t fight me on this. Drink the fucking soup.”

She huffs, glancing down, and then back up to Din.

“Progresso?”

He grunts.

She blows at the steam rising from the hot liquid. “Chicken noodle?”

Din crosses his arms over his chest and plops back onto the island.

“Classic,” she praises, mumbling into it.

She loathes to admit it, but the first sip tastes like heaven. It soothes her raw vocal chords, worn hoarse from nights of coughing, and seeps deep to warm her cold bones.

Din remains mute through the whole affair, staring owlishly as she spoons it down, slurp for slurp, until he’s satisfied she’s finished. When she does, she arches an eye brow at him— mouth pressing into a thin line. Happy now?

He tips his head and pads over to her.

“Wait, no you don’t have to-" He swipes it from the table, the spoon clanking against the ceramic rim. Din moves to the sink and she groans.

“Just leave it,” she whines, but he ignores her—stubborn stubborn stubborn— he’s already got soap on the sponge and the water running. Again, she huffs and rises to her feet, hem of the blanket trailing behind her.

“Thank you,” she gives in a hushed tone.

It’s so strange— being taken care of in her own place. She doesn’t know what to do, where to go. It’s ill-fitting, foreign, and she can only hover there, buzzing like a pesky insect beside him.

He’s wiping the dish off with a towel when he chances a peek back at her, practically stuttering when he does.

She’s swaddled in that fucking quilt, awkward and impossibly sincere and precious just standing there—watching him play house in her home. A brush of color has sprung up on her cheeks—more light in her eyes, too—and Din, try as he might, can’t pry himself off her.

She’s sick—she’s sick and gorgeous and he wants her. He wants her to feel better, he wants to fuck her, he wants to hold her. He’s overcome with it.

He swallows.

Fuck.

He abandons the bowl and rag in the drying rack and turns to her, her eyes widening, glassy and bloodshot, as he tucks a stray hair behind her ear— knuckles trailing down her jaw.

“Din…”

Her tongue skips over her lip—mocking him—damp and full and begging to be taken by his own, and her breath catches as he drags a thumb across that plump flesh, enrapt with the way her mouth parts so effortlessly for him—so fucking supple. Din’s gut twists and his blood thickens in his veins—the air between them rippling with something velvet and carnal.

He takes a step towards her. Her throat bobs.

“You’re gonna get sick,” she pouts in protest, rutting her palm into his chest, but there’s no fight in it. The blanket slips from her shoulders, hitting the ground with a dulled splat.

“Din,” she tries again, “I don’t want you to-"

He leans in, cradling her cheek, murmurs fanning over her face. “I’ll risk it.”

And he dissolves the gap, sealing her mouth with his in a tender kiss. It’s almost chaste at first, how they rove tentative and unhurried over each other—an innocent exploration— all until his tongue darts out to touch along her lip and she whimpers into him, letting Din dip into the dark cavern of her mouth. She tastes warm, like comfort and broth and rainy days, and he sighs as she brings her hands up to weave into his hair.

Neither of them fight for dominance like this—their tangle of soft sounds is perfectly balanced— Hatha; effort and ease, breath and body. He pushes, she relents—she surges forward, Din bends. They dance like this, slow as tar, until she catches his bottom lip between her teeth and tugs.

It’s like a switch has been flipped.

He seethes, inhaling sharply as his hands slide possessive and greedy down her body, grabbing fistfuls of her waist hidden under all the oversized layers, and crushing her into him. She’s making these airy noises, panting and urgent and fuck if it doesn’t tear him apart—viscerally, from the inside out.

Din walks her backwards, step for choreographed step, foxtrotting until she bumps into the kitchen table. He breaks away from the kiss to reach past her, frantically pushing away the unopened mail and receipts and loose change, the jingling of her keys cutting through the wanton quiet as they clang onto the tile, and he hitches her up to sit there with one fell swoop.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he husks, inbetween the bites he’s searing onto her neck. “Please, just lie back for me sweet girl.”

“Din, I-“

He silences her with a nibble to her ear, coaxing a breathy yelp out of her. “Lie back, baby.”

It doesn’t take much convincing after that. She acquiesces, Din’s wide palm splayed on her breasts, guiding her to recline back onto the table. He makes speedy work of her sweatpants, yanking them down her legs and flinging them off to land in a crumpled heap.

He sinks to his knees, pulling the cradle of her hips to the edge of the table before parting her thighs. The gloss of her cunt, wet and glistening for him, makes his hardening cock jump up to his stomach, and she twitches as soon as the cool air brushes against her.

“Fuck me,” he groans, whispering into her heat like he’s pained, like the sight alone is torturing him—like it’s slowly but surely ending his fucking life.

Din breathes her in with a sigh, that summer fruit tang— the scent of her aching and pulsing for him— and he starts tracing up and down her inner thigh with his tongue and teeth, nibbling along the path there until he’s at her apex. He’s dimpling her pliant skin with his calloused fingertips, strong hands wrapped under her knees, keeping them splayed as he kisses along her outer lips, nipping at her hip bones, teasing everywhere but where she needs him most.

It’s devastating—debilitating—and she’s shaking now. Every muscle, every fiber of her, convulsing with anticipation—with the promise of being dissected, of being torn apart and stitched back together again. She’s already got a hand covering her mouth, muffling the sobs he’s drawing out as he toys with her— playing her like a fucking fiddle.

Din’s eyes flit up to find her like this, brow pinched tight and cries stifled, and he chuckles— he fucking laughs— heady and ambered into her legs.

“You doin’ alright up there, teach?”

“F-Fuck you,” she hisses out with a weak whine.

God, she’s fucking perfect.

“You need something, sweetheart?” He smirks— she can feel the shape of it against her thigh, the way his stubble grates along her skin— and she can only mewl, speechless. Pathetic.

“Yeah, I know what you need...” Din hums, before finally - finally - taking mercy on her.

With one single drag, he tongues a broad stripe up her slit.

The noise that rips through her sounds like she’s being strangled— it gets caught in her throat like a trapped animal in hot car— a desperate little thing clawing to get out. Her nails scrape against the wood, leaving nicks in the chestnut lacquer. Immediately, she cants up to him, searching for his mouth hungrily and Din all but obliges as he clasps onto her hips, keeping her still while he fucks into her.

He’s carving her out— hollowing her; burying himself in her folds, nosing against her mound. He laps her up in kitten licks, delving the muscle of his tongue in and out of her, leaving her weak and gasping. Din laves up and down and side to side in clever little swivels, before he reaches her clit and sucks.

Her fist shoots from her mouth to grip his wavy locks, grinding shamelessly against his face.

“O-Oh my god, Din - fuck - Din. Oh fuck oh fuck-"

He loves it when she gets like this; that serene and tranquil exterior— the one that can quell a studio full of strangers into a haze with only the sound of her voice, that voice he can’t get out of his fucking head, the one that got them into this mess in the first place— shattered, mutilated beyond recognition and all she has left is her need— her wild, unbridled need.

Her need for his tongue, for his fingers, for his dick. Din Din Din, she only wants him— only needs him.

He slips a finger into her, easing past his knuckle in one movement, and her chin tips back, crown of her head digging into the table, hair mussing against the wood grain.

Her nipples have pebbled through her shirt, her pretty feet arched and contorted, and she’s heaving - writhing - like this above him.

He adds another digit, pumping in and out, the squelch of her pussy sounding lewd and obscene and fucking divine as he grazes her clit with his teeth, pulling at it.

“Fuck-” she rasps, legs quivering on their own accord— instinct and reflex demanding she tremble— and Din moans into her sex, feeling her walls constrict around his fingers, and he curls them up as he thrusts, hitting against that spongy patch insider her that makes her vision go white.

“Din, I- I’m—"

She can’t manage the rest. Instead of words, she cries— high pitched and wounded, as if she’s barely making it out alive. Her legs clamp around his head, bracing him there, and she cums— she loses it for him— her slick coating his nose, his lips, the hair speckled around his chin. She soaks him, and it leaves Din rocking his hips and humping the fucking air— as randy as a teenager, ravenous for anything, even if it’s just the friction of his pants drawn tight around his erection.

He takes her through her orgasm, lapping at her softly until she’s warbling—a slew of nonsense babbling out of her— and he leans back on his heels to admire his work, eyes singeing into her cunt made puffy and swollen pink, fluttering at the loss of him.

He plants one final kiss to the cleft of her pussy before shifting his weight back up to his feet, slotting himself between her.

Fuck, he isn’t as young as he once was— he feels his age in the ache of his knees. All the yoga in the world can’t erase his scar tissue, can’t undo time.

But he thinks maybe—if he’ll let himself—that she makes him feel younger. Lighter.

He squeezes her calf and begins to move away when she whimpers, bolting upright to palm greedily at the bulge pressing painfully against its constraint, her fingers fidgeting with his zipper and Din— in an uncharacteristic show of strength and self restraint— gingerly clasps onto her wrists, holding her still.

“Hey,” he murmurs, and her eyes snap up to meet his. “This isn’t about me.”

“No, but-”

“You don’t- we don’t have to-"

“Din,” she pants, grabbing onto the waist of his jeans and pressing her center into him, smearing herself along the denim there, her pearled clit catching on the rough fabric. Her eyes have gone jet-black with desire, obsidian lust burning through them. “Din, fuck me. Please fuck me, plea-“

Shit.

He’s never moved so fast in his goddamn life, unbuttoning his jeans in a flash, untucking himself— throbbing, leaking already—from his briefs. He gives himself two rough jerks, his blunt tip prodding at her entrance, before pushing into her with a gasp.

Fuck, she’s warm— not just warm, she’s hot. She’s molten, and she’s milking him for all he’s worth, gripping around him, fucking strangling his cock with how wet she is—how tight. God, she’s a fucking dream—a nightmare too, undoubtedly.

“Fuck baby - shit - you’re—hnng-” He groans—can’t even form a real sentence—all of his blood has rushed out of his brain and straight to the juncture where their bodies meet.

His eyes flutter deliriously at the feeling of her stretching around him like this and for a passing, fleeting moment, he considers the fact that he should be gentle with her— that she’s not feeling well, that she’s probably sore with body chills and God knows what else and that she should rest—

But once her knees are split apart and legs spread long— so fucking flexible, fuck she’s killing him— his well-met concern all but abandons him.

He fucks her hard— so hard she falls back, that unforgiving surface bruising into her spine. He probably hurts her a little—just how he likes, just how she loves.

Din plows into her, digging into the meat of her thighs, slamming into the pussy that takes him so fucking well, the pussy that feels like it’s made for him— like she’s made for him— and the table shudders with each roll of his hips, scraping it inch by inch along the tile, knocking against the chairs with loud, clattering bangs.

“W-Wait— wait wait wait-“ she pants, hands scampering up to his arms.

He slows his thrusts until he’s stilled inside of her, worry creasing around his eyes. “W-What? Are you okay—what’s wrong?”

“T-The table," she whines, “it’s from fucking IKEA. I built this piece of shit myself— there’s no way it’s gonna stay standing with you fucking me into it like this.”

Din barks out a laugh, throaty and genuine, and for the second time today, he comes to the conclusion that she’s perfect.

“Bedroom?” she nods down the hall.

“Bedroom,” he growls before scooping her up, lifting her off the table, her legs scrambling to hook around his waist, forearms bracing around the broad plain of his shoulders.

“Din!” she squeals in surprise, “I can walk, you know.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, giving her a bounce and a light slap to her ass. “You’re sick.”

///

“Onions,” he mutters, leaden eyelids nestled shut.

He didn’t mean to stay over this long—well past sunset, later than he’s ever allowed himself—but how could he be expected to leave? After she came on his cock - twice - and he had filled her up until his cum was gushing from her, extricating himself out of this exact position of woven, spent limbs and sweat stained sheets sounded criminal.

“What?” She cranes groggily up at him.

“The sub. She smelled like onions. And patchouli.”

“Hey,” she tuts in mock offense, “Brenda is nice.”

“Good for Brenda. Doesn’t make her smell any better.”

“God, you are so rude,” she laughs, shaking her head as she nuzzles into Din’s side, lips curving into a sleepy grin against his chest—right above the aching thump of his caged heart.

Taglist (I apologize if I missed anyone!):

@radiowallet @pedros-mustache @djarinsbeskar @chasingdreamers @greatcircle79 @iamskyereads @imnotinlove-thisisnotyoursong @fan-of-encouragement @read-and-rec @helmet-comes-off @keeper0fthestars @hellabaybee @ourmotherofyearning @krissology

#yoga!din #I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL #modern!din #modern au #din djarin smut #din djarin x female oc #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #smut #mando x fem!reader #mando x you #mando x female oc #hurt/comfort #fanfic #one shot #star wars fanfic #pedro pascal #din djarin au

[mrhyde-mrseek]

SCIENCE MOST SINISTER - PART SEVEN

CW: Disturbing imagery, hallucinations.

The woods were eerily quiet in the morning. Normally, Victor would have enjoyed the tranquility, especially compared to how overwhelming it could be inside, but this time a feeling of foreboding descended upon him the deeper into the trees he walked.

He reached the bank of a thin brook, hidden from humanity by overgrown underbrush and fallen branches. “There we are,” he said softly, allowing the rat to escape his hold. “Now off you go.”

As he started back toward the House, the sensation of being watched became more intense. He slowed his pace and glanced behind himself. The rat was sitting on its haunches, still as a statue, staring at him.

He swallowed, and began walking faster. Still, the unshakable feeling grew stronger, until at last he halted and spun around.

The scream, he realized belatedly, was his own.

The rat had grown nine, ten times its size. Its matted, greasy fur was slicked to its body, which rippled disturbingly, as though thousands of insects were crawling around beneath the skin. Its tail swished restlessly from side to side through the air. It opened its mouth wide, thick, black liquid dripping from its teeth, and maggots swarmed out of its throat—white, bloated things that crawled all over the rodent’s snout and neck and chest.

Victor’s legs buckled. He inched backwards across the ground, still damp with morning dew. Very faintly, too much so to be certain, he thought he heard footsteps in the distance.

Quicker than it seemed possible for a monster of that size, the rat-beast was upon him. It grabbed him by the arm and bit down hard. He yelled as red mingled with black, soaking through his sleeve.

Voices—voices coming nearer, calling out his name. He heard them, but saw nothing. His head swam. His vision turned blank and grey, and he knew no more.

~•~

When Victor came to, there were two people standing over him—three, he corrected, when Griffin spoke. “What the hell were you shouting about now?” he demanded. Jekyll hissed sharply in the direction the invisible man’s voice had come from. “What?” Griffin cried defensively. “Oh, come now, it isn’t as if this scenario is new to any of us—he is startled by something inconsequential and draws one of us to the scene, only for us to realize that he was overreacting!”

“You could at least show a bit of sympathy,” snapped Jekyll. “Although I wonder whether there is an ounce of it in your body.”

“Griffin, Jekyll, that’s enough!” The argument came to a stop at Watson’s interjection. The doctor turned to Victor with concern in his eyes. “Why did you scream? Are you hurt?”

“I—I—“ For a minute, Victor could not speak. At last, he found his voice, and stammered incoherently, “The—the rat. It attacked me—it was massive and there were maggots and—“

“Maggots?” Watson repeated. “Victor, what are you talking about? You were alone.”

“I was . . .”

“The last we saw of the rat was it scampering away into the bushes,” said Griffin, “and it seemed perfectly average to me.”

“But . . . it bit me on the arm . . .” Victor said weakly; but even as he did so, he saw that his arm was clean and unharmed—his shirtsleeve had not even a tear in the fabric.

Both Watson and Jekyll’s expressions bespoke their worry that he had finally gone ‘round the bend. Then Griffin muttered, “Oh, good Lord . . . Victor, it was a hallucination. It wasn’t real.”

Victor blinked. That did make sense, but at the same time—“But it felt so real,” he tried to argue. “How could I have imagined being attacked?”

“The same way I imagined chasing after Hyde and being trapped in the dark.” The grass rustled as Griffin stood up. “Where is Van Helsing?”

“With Holmes,” Watson answered. “But I do not think Holmes would appreciate being disturbed—“

“To hell with what he likes! This is getting out of hand, and I want a solution!”

It had gotten out of hand long ago, thought Victor, but he said nothing as he allowed Watson to pull him up, and trailed after the three men silently.

He was unsure whether to join Griffin in his mission to confront Holmes and Van Helsing, or make himself a cup of tea to try and settle his nerves. He had just decided on the latter when a door down the hall was thrown open. He glanced up, then, figuring it was Griffin, continued on his way to the kitchen.

He had just stepped into the study when Holmes burst in after him, eliciting a squawk of alarm from him. “My God, Holmes!” he breathed, waiting for his heartbeat to slow.

“Apologies, dear boy.” Holmes did not sound sorry in the least—quite distracted, in fact. He ran one long finger over the spines of the books crammed into the chipped shelves. “You wouldn’t happen to know where that book on ancient Egyptian funerary practices is, would you?”

“It—um—“ Victor shook his head to gain some semblance of sense. “Were you not just attempting to figure out what is happening to us?”

“Oh, I still am. Gwen must know where it is,” he murmured, speaking more to himself, it seemed, than Victor. “Would you mind fetching it from her?”

Victor wanted to ask Holmes what association ancient Egypt had with the well below the House; however, he was not quite in the mood for an overlong explanation, so he did as requested and hurried off to find Gwen.

She would be in her workspace, if anywhere. Prepared to walk right inside, he was surprised to find that the door (usually left open) was closed. He knocked cautiously. “Gwen?” he called. “Holmes was wondering where your book on—“

“Leave me alone!”

He froze. Her words were thick, as if she was close to tears. “Gwen, what—“

“I said leave me be!” He recoiled, wincing. “Victor.” She now sounded like she was standing against the door to speak to him. Her voice shook, little whimpering gasps piercing every other word. “Please—go away. I—I can’t be near anybody. Please.”

He faltered a minute. Then he backed away from the door and trudged forlornly down the hallway, wondering if he had done something to upset her.

Lost amidst his thoughts, he hardly payed any mind to what was in his path until he narrowly avoided colliding with Van Helsing near the stairwell.

He stumbled away hastily with a mumbled, “Excuse me, Professor.” Then, partway down the steps, he looked back and blurted out, “Something is wrong with Gwen. She has locked herself in her workspace, and is refusing to face anyone.”

But Van Helsing nodded gravely. “I know,” he said. “I believe she has come to the same conclusion Holmes and I have.”

Victor tilted his head. “Which is . . . what?”

Van Helsing sighed, a sound like a lone thundercloud. “Come with me to the study. I should have told you all much earlier.”

“You should have told us about what?”

“Gwen’s curse.”

#science most sinister #frankenstein or the modern prometheus #frankenstein book #frankenstein #victor frankenstein #acd holmes #sherlock holmes #dr watson #the strange case of dr. jekyll and mr. hyde #dr jekyll and mr hyde #jekyll and hyde #dr jekyll #the invisible man #dr griffin #griffin the invisible man #asa griffin #gwen crowley #guinevere crowley #dracula book #dracula #abraham van helsing #gothic literature #gothic lit #gothic lit au #classic literature #classic lit #classic lit au #hallucinations

[rhysismydaddy]

Elorcan smut after so much y e a r n i n g!!

🥺 please?

Lorcan remembered the exact moment he first saw Elide Lochan. 

He’d been on his way to his last class of the day, senior year exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders, and had looked up from his phone to see her standing at the other end of the hall, talking animatedly to a professor. 

She’d been wearing dark slacks and a pale, soft looking sweater that contrasted against the silky black hair hanging down her back. He could tell that even with the heels, she wouldn’t even reach his shoulders, and not a small part of him enjoyed how small she was in comparison to him, even though it also made him feel like a hulking brute. 

The same part of him took one look at her and said Yes.

He’d made his way over, planning to totally interrupt her conversation and ask her out, and she’d looked up as she saw him coming, wide brown eyes meeting his.

A rush of heat went through him as she’d tilted her head and took him in from his too-long hair all the way down to the dusty boots he’d never cared to clean.

And then she’d done something that’d been a prominent player in his dreams ever since: she bit her lip.

That goddamn beautiful, blush pink lip that doubled as the most tantalizing thing he’d ever seen. 

His imagination had immediately run wild.

He’d wanted to draw that lip into his mouth, nibble on it and soothe the ache with his tongue. Wanted to taste them both as he pushed into her. Wanted to see them wrapped around his cock as she looked up at him with those big, beautiful eyes.

And that was just her lips. 

The rest of her was almost too much for him, even in his fantasies. 

Full hips; slim thighs that would feel too good parting for him; heavy breasts he wanted to taste.

She was a fucking wet dream. He’d never been so attracted to a woman, much less one he’d never met.

As he’d drawn closer and closer, she’d bid farewell to the professor and turned to him with a wide smile that made him almost trip over his own fucking feet. 

And then she’d asked: “English 135?”

His sex-foggy train of thought had come screeching to a halt, and he’d raised a brow. “What?”

She’d nodded toward the classroom they were standing outside of. “English 135. Creative writing. Are you in this class?”

It’d taken him an embarrassing amount of time to realize she was a TA. 

And an even more embarrassing amount of time to realize the fact that she was his TA.

Because he was, in fact, enrolled in creative writing. 

He’d chosen the class at random since it fulfilled his last general education requirement, and he’d been dreading it all week, but now... now it didn’t seem so bad. 

Especially as she looked up at him, the heat in his eyes reflected in her own, and said softly, “Welcome to class.”

E~

Elide felt like one of those tight rope walkers--doing something dangerous that might have disastrous consequences but unable to stop because she loved the thrill.

She knew entertaining thoughts of one of her students was stupid, but from the moment she’d met him, she hadn’t been able to help it. 

Like her thoughts had summoned him, he strolled into the room, and she let her eyes graze over him, finding him just as distracting as they had yesterday and the day before and every other day so far this semester. 

Tall and broad-shouldered, with hair like a midnight sky and eyes just as dark. He was like nothing she’d ever seen. 

For the past two months, she’d been unable to stop herself from imagining how it’d feel to have him on top of her, pressing her down with his heavy weight. How he might say her name in the morning and how he looked when he came.

Thoughts that were nothing but a bad idea, since she was his student. 

“Good morning, Mr. Salvaterre,” she said politely, trying to keep her voice from going husky.

He looked at her like he knew what she was doing, which he probably did. He wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to watching her day in and day out. 

His dark eyes followed her when she paced in front of the class, tracked down her body whenever he came in the room, and burned with desire whenever they met her own.

He also always came in a few minutes early to talk to her before other people arrived, like he had right now.

A corner of his lips pulled up as he replied, “Morning, Elide.”

She almost sighed. Unlike the other students, he never called her Ms. Lochan. And he never smiled. 

His lips would tilt up in a smirk, and occasionally he’d go so far as to look mildly  amused, but he never gave her actually smiled. Which was probably a good thing, because she didn’t know if she was strong enough to resist Lorcan in general, let alone a smiling Lorcan.

“Do you have your paper?”

They had a story due today. The prompt was to write a chapter of a romance novel--not her idea. The plot, setting, and everything else was up to them.

Elide was looking forward to reading his more than she’d ever admit, but she remained calm as he handed over a thick stack of papers. 

Calm or not, she was unable to stop herself from flipping it open and scanning a few lines.

Every thought inside her head came to a halt.

“This is...” She looked up to find him raising a brow and waiting for her to finish. “This is a sex scene.”

"Mmhm,” he confirmed, the amusement and hunger in his eyes clear to see.

A blush fought to work it’s way up her face as she saw the main character’s name was Elise. One letter away from Elide. Coincidence?

Then she saw that male lead’s name was Lorance. 

Definitely not a coincidence.

They’d been subtly flirting for as long as the class had been going on, but nothing so bold as to write a sex scene about them.

She read a little more and almost passed out. It was a sex scene in a classroom.

“Feel free to make corrections or suggestions,” he murmured, for all intents and purposes sounding like he was actually talking about the assignment.

Elide cleared her throat, trying to unscramble her brain.

“Mr. Salvaterre, the prompt was to write about romance.”

Lorcan smirked and flipped the paper open to a certain page. “What’s more romantic than that?”

On their own accord, her eyes dropped to scan the page, finding an explicitly detailed scene of “Lorance” bending “Elise” over the desk and pulling her panties down with his teeth.

Elide looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath and fighting the urge to press her thighs together. 

“This is inappropriate.”

“How so?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m your professor.”

He braced a hip against her desk and pointed out, “You’re my TA. And only for another month.”

“Yes, but... I could get in trouble. Nothing in here,” she shook the papers, “is allowed between PhD candidates and college students.”

“I get it, Elide.” He shrugged. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. I can wait another four weeks.”

When he said it like that, it sounded like forever. But she nodded, appreciating his patients. 

“Thank y-”

“But you know, I think I’ll continue with this story. Just something to, you know... pass the time with.” 

“What?” she choked out.

He explained slowly, “I’m going to keep writing.”

And then, faster than should be possible for such a big person, he was right in front of her, mouth dipped to her ear as he whispered, “And in four weeks, you get to pick one.”

He pulled away right as students started walking through the door, leaving her flustered and shaking and completely screwed. 

~

Every class for the next month, Lorcan brought her a new chapter. 

They were the filthiest, most erotic things she’d ever read. 

She was addicted to them.

His imagination seemed to know no bounds when it came to her, and it made her shiver just to think about what else he might come up with. 

He never said a word, just came in and put the papers on her desk, then went and sat and proceeded to eye-fuck her until the class was up. 

On the last day of class, he gave her both a new chapter and his final paper for the course. She was woman enough to admit she only cared about one.

“Wait to read this one till after class,” he said quietly before sliding in his seat at the back of the room.

She pursed her lips, wondering why, but acquiesced and didn’t read it during the twenty minute reading time at the beginning of the class. It was burning a hole through her desk, but she ignored it the entire sixty minutes.

After she released everyone and bid them a happy summer, she watched as Lorcan got up, winked, and walked out of the class without a care in the world.

Um... what?

He wasn’t going to talk to her? Seriously? After two months of-

The chapter.

She flipped it open, immediately finding the reason for his casualty. 

While the others were all written in the past tense, this one was present. And it used her real name.

And the first line was: Elide left the classroom, anticipation making her skin tingle, and walked to the parking lot. 

Huge smile on her face and skin indeed tingling with anticipation, she made her way to the parking lot, then turned the page and read, She drove to Lorcan’s apartment. 

His apartment? She’d never even been on a date with him. Not that that really mattered to her at the moment.

Was she seriously doing this? 

Her eyes drifted to the next line to see his address, and she decided yes, yes she was. 

Traffic seemed to go on forever as she drove the ten minutes to his apartment, and by the time she knocked on the door, she was too excited to stand still.

She knocked on the door, then knocked again when there was no answer. 

Brow furrowed, she looked back to the chapter, flipped the page, and saw: She used the key under the mat to let herself in, then went to his bedroom in the back. 

Hands shaking, she bent to grab the key, then let herself into her Lorcan’s apartment like she did it all the time.

An empty, clean, almost-barren apartment greeted her, and after taking an intrusive look around, she walked down the hallway to his room.

Thin drapes were closed over the window, filling the space with soft, hazy light, and she instinctively walked to the bed to run her fingers over the silky sheets. It smelled like him in here, like smoke and rain and something just Lorcan. 

Inhaling deeply, she looked back at the paper in her hands. 

Knowing he’d be there soon, Elide took off her clothes, got on his bed, and waited.

Her mouth dropped open as she read that line again and again. It was the last page, so she had nothing else to tell her what was going to happen.

Was he serious?

Was she seriously going to do it?

Her body made the decision before her mind did.

She kicked her shoes off and let her hair down from her ponytail before she could think better of it.

“Crazy man,” she murmured, even as she pulled her dress over her head and threw it on the floor. Her bra and panties followed, and then she was standing there in a man’s room while he wasn’t even home.

God, what if this was some elaborate prank? What if this wasn’t even his apartment?

The realistic part of her brain told her how crazy that sounded, which relaxed her a little. 

She eyed the bed, not sure if she should get on it or just stand here. It felt strange to be naked in the first place, even stranger to be in his bed without him.

But it also felt exciting. 

She’d wanted him for such a long time, and now that she was minutes away from actually having him, she felt like she was going to combust.

This was another way, she realized, of heightening the anticipation between them. Elide had made him wait for three months, so he was giving her a taste of her own medicine.

She crawled on the bed without another thought, relaxing on his pillows and trying to calm down. 

Then the question became... how long was he going to make her wait?

Twenty minutes later, she had her answer. 

She heard the lock on the door click open, and God above, just the sound of his boots coming down the hall made her breath come quicker. He got closer and closer, and then there he was.

Lorcan leaned against the door frame, looked her over from head to toe, and for the first time since they’d met, gave her a full smile.

She found herself smiling back, unable to help it. She was right; smiling Lorcan was undeniably her favorite.

He didn’t say a word as he prowled closer and braced his hands on the bed near her feet. He didn’t have to; his eyes told her exactly what he was thinking. 

They roamed over every inch of exposed skin, lingering on the sweep of her hips, the apex of her thighs, the quick rise and fall of her chest. 

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined this moment,” he rasped, leaning to press a featherlight kiss to the inside of her ankle. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

He pulled back and continued to look at her like he was content to do exactly that for the rest of his life. She needed him to touch her, needed him to put that still-smiling mouth on hers.

“Lorcan,” she breathed, squirming under his dark gaze. She pulled her lip between her teeth to keep from throwing pride to the wind and just begging him for what she wanted.

Turns out, she didn’t need to beg. As soon as she bit her lip, he was on her, heavy weight pressing her down in the way she’d imagined he would for months, mouth covering hers, hands cupping her face like she was something precious. 

He stole her lip from her, sucking it into his mouth and groaning. 

Like a thread with too much tension, they snapped, hands and mouths starting frenzied as they both tried to kiss the other harder, deeper.

His hand slipped between her thighs, and he pulled back far enough to press his forehead to hers and mutter, “Shit.”

Then he was kissing her neck, sucking down at the same time he pushed two fingers inside of her. His name fell off her lips, sounding desperate to her own ears. 

He ignored her plea, kissing a path down to her breasts. He swirled his tongue around the peak of one and used his free hand to pinch the other, making her cry out. 

“These breasts,” he growled, sounding a little angry. 

She didn’t know if she should apologize or shove them further in his face. 

He switched to the other, choosing option number two for her. His teeth scraped against her nipple at the same time he pushed his fingers into her a little harder, and it felt so good her legs shook.

Then he was moving, going further down until his face was pressed between her thighs. 

He pushed her thighs back, and she blushed at being so exposed while he hadn’t shred a stitch of clothing. But then he pulled his fingers out, licked them clean, and said, “You taste like strawberries,” giving her a whole other reason to blush.

Lorcan calmly slid down to his stomach and got comfortable, then proceeded to eat like he’d been locked in a room with no food for two weeks. 

His tongue was everywhere, licking her from top to bottom, circling her clit, pushing inside her. He hummed, and she arched off the bed, pushing her hips further toward him. 

She wanted this to last forever, but her body was reacting to him like it never had to anyone, and she felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge. 

He added his fingers back at the same time he sucked her clit sharply, and she fell to pieces, twitching and pulsing around him and breathing like she’d done something besides lay there.

She yanked him up the bed, needing to feel him against her. She slid her hands in his hair and licked his lower lip, smiling when he made a gruff sound.

Elide slipped her hands under his shirt and pulled it off, then started working on his belt, only to have her hands knocked out of the way by his. He unceremoniously ripped his clothes off, then rolled on his back to reach for a dresser drawer. 

While he dealt with that, she perused him head to toe like he’d done her.

His body was lean and cut, tan and beautiful. 

Crawling next to him, she ran her lips over his chest, down his abs. When she attempted to go lower, he stopped her with a hand in her hair. 

“But I want to-”

“Later,” was all he said before throwing her on her back, rolling the condom on in an oddly primitive manner, and thrusting inside of her.  

She gasped, feeling so full she might split apart, and clung to him as he let her adjust.

When she felt like she could breathe again, she wrapped her legs around her waist and tilted her ups up, taking him even deeper. He made a deep sound of approval, eyes dropping to half mast. 

Lorcan braced himself on his elbows, gave her a very male look, and said, “Hold on tight.” 

Then he started to move, pulling out all the way before thrusting back in so hard she shook. 

It was like the past months of lust and heated glances were coming back all at once, reminding her how long she’d gone without him.

She’d imagined what he’d be like more times than she could count, but the reality was somehow better.

Her nails dug into his shoulders as he pounded into her, probably hurting him, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Their mouths met in a messy, wet glide, and he bit her bottom lip, anchoring himself by it as he fucked her even harder. 

“Elide,” he groaned, deep voice desperate and scratchy. “Come on, baby.”

The knowledge that this was undoing him as much as it was her was what pushed her over the edge again. She moaned his name as she came, eyes going shut and body arching up into him. 

He followed immediately, stilling on top of her and fisting the sheet hard enough she worried it would tear. 

When she came back down to earth and released his shoulders, she saw she’d left little half-moon marks on him, and she leaned up to ease the hurt with her lips.

After a moment, he rolled off of her and collapsed on the other side of the bed with a huff.

They both stared at the ceiling, unable to find words for a long moment. 

Until Lorcan stated, “Wow.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, body still tingling. “Was it worth the wait?”

He shrugged, and her heart constricted painfully in her chest until he said, “Might need another go before I say for sure.”

Elide shoved his shoulder, turning on her side to look at him.

“What now?” he asked, rolling to face her. “I do actually plan to take you on a date, you know. Dinner?”

A part of her was relieved to hear this wasn’t just sex to him, but there was something else she wanted at the moment. 

“Chapter 3?” she suggested instead.

Lorcan gave her a wolf’s smile. “I like the way you think.”

________________________________________________

not me being horny on main yikes. sorry it’s long

[polefitnessdancing]

#whydopoledancerswearhighheels

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

irritating you, irritating me

summary: you don’t like your neighbor Anthony, but it leads to more than one awkward encounter.

warnings: like one swear, mentions of drinking

word count: 5.4k

note from the writer: this is unedited and I wrote most of the last part on my phone so I apologize but enjoy! / take my survey!

ONE

The first time you met Anthony Beauvillier, you were certain you could go the rest of your life never seeing him again.

It was late, past midnight after a long and stressful day of moving into your new apartment. So when music started loudly playing from the unit across the hall, it took only fifteen minutes of you waiting to see if they were going to stop before you were tugging on a sweatshirt over your pajamas. Your mind hadn’t caught up to your actions before you knocked on your obnoxious neighbor’s door.

A brief moment of panic overtook you as you realized you had no idea who you were about to complain too, but it was too late to back out as the door swung open. If you had been a little more awake and a lot less annoyed, you would have catalogued just how attractive the guy standing in the doorway was. Bright blue eyes, tousled brown hair, and a grin that usually would have made you swoon.

He was trouble, that was for sure.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asked, a lightness to his tone as if you were an old friend and not someone he’d never met knocking on his door close to one in the morning. Hearing someone laugh in his apartment over the loud music, you remembered your reason for coming over—and it wasn’t to drool over the way his sweatshirt pulled across his broad shoulders. Before you could come up with a sentence, he was speaking again. “You’re my new neighbor, right? You just moved in today. I’m Anthony.”

“Y/N.” You told him shortly, crossing your arms over your chest. He raised a curious brow at your response, but didn’t comment further on it.

“So…” He trailed off, his gaze darting from you, to your apartment door behind you before he shot a look back into his apartment. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Could you turn your music down? It’s keeping me up.” You told him, a little harsher than probably necessary, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. He had to have known his music was way too loud, and if he just had no regard for his neighbors then you were going to have a hard time getting along with him.

“Yeah, of—”

“It’s a party! We’re celebrating!” Another boy joined the conversation, swinging an arm around Anthony’s shoulders. You raised an unimpressed brow at the new boy, who had a beer bottle clasped in his hand.

“And I’m trying to sleep.” You replied, voice void of any humor. Anthony shrugged the guy off his arm and told him to go back inside, while you waited impatiently. Your frown seemed permanent, but Anthony met it head on with a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry about Mat, he’s just excited about the win.” He apologized, though you had no idea what he was talking about. Exhaustion was taking over you, and the longer you stayed out in front of Anthony’s apartment the more your contempt for him grew.

“Can you please just try and keep it down?” You pleaded, dragging a hand down your face. You didn’t care about why they were being so loud, you just wanted them to stop.

“I’ll try, but the guys might fight me on it.” He tried to joke, an easy smile on his face as he leaned against his doorframe. Apparently, he found something about this amusing. You, on the other hand, decided then and there that your new neighbor was not going to be one of your friends.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” You rolled your eyes, giving up on trying to convince him. Without another word, you turned around, fully prepared to head back into your own apartment and deal with whatever choice Anthony decided to make, regarding his music volume.

“It was nice meeting you.” Anthony called just as you opened your door. You weren’t sure if he was being smug or not, his eyes were kind but the entire interaction hadn’t exactly been nice. Somehow, you were leaving his apartment more annoyed than you had been when you arrived.

“Yeah, I guess.” You huffed, shutting the door on him after flashing what was possibly the world’s fakest smile. In the split second you had to gauge his reaction before the wood door obstructed your view, he seemed to be taking it in stride.

He turned the music down. You could still hear it from your bedroom.

TWO

The next time you ran into Anthony, it was nearly two weeks later.

Run-in was a good way to describe it, considering he completely barrelled into you outside your favorite coffee shop three blocks from your apartment. You had tried to dodge him, you really did, but you weren’t quick enough and he wasn’t paying attention, and mixture of the two meant your drink spilled all down your front.

“Oh, my god!” You exclaimed, inspecting the damage down to your shirt. Thankfully, it wasn’t one of your favorites, but you most likely wouldn’t be able to wear it again. Anthony let out a string of curses in what sounded like French, and you shot him a glare that was met with a look of realization.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” You huffed, retreating into the shop in search of napkins. You knew there was no hope in trying to save your shirt, but you at least wanted to not be dripping in coffee as you raced home to change before heading to work. Thankfully, you had an unusual head start on the day and most likely wouldn’t be late.

“Not like that, I mean. It’s you, my neighbor, not in our building.” Anthony hurried to correct himself. You rolled your eyes, reaching around him to toss your now empty cup in the trash.

“I do go out in public, you know.” Your comment was meant sarcastically, delivered with a little bite, but instead of being offended Anthony laughed. You paused dabbing the napkin against your coffee-stain to give him a confused look, not sure why he took your comment in stride.

“Can I buy you a new coffee? It’s the least I can do.” He offered, but you quickly shook your head. There was a line to the door and you knew you wouldn’t be able to wait for it, and the last thing you wanted to was wait around with Anthony, your neighbor you didn’t exactly like.

“I’ve got to go home and change, but thanks, I guess.” You told him, giving up on the coffee stain and tossing your napkins away. He frowned, then, and you wondered if he was used to being able to pick up anyone with his good looks.

Not that you wanted to find him attractive, of course. He was your annoying neighbor. But still, two things could be true. He could be your attractive, annoying neighbor that played music way too loud and spilled your coffee on you.

“Yeah, no problem.” He continued, recovering quickly and replacing his frown with a smile that would have made your heart skip and beat if you had gotten off on the right foot with him. “See you around?”

“Probably.” You shrugged. He did live across the hall from you, but you weren’t going to actively seek him out to hang out. That simply wasn’t in the cards for you and him, sometimes people just didn’t get along. You made a move as if to leave, but Anthony’s voice was calling out after you and, surprisingly, you stopped.

“I really am sorry, you know.” He told you, and something akin to a smile found its way onto your face before you could stop it. Your response wasn’t as snarky as your previous comments had been, but you left him with one finally comment before slipping out of the coffee shop and into the busy sidewalk.

“Tell that to my shirt, Anthony.”

That night, too late for visitors but too early for you to be asleep yet, there was a knock on your door. Pausing your show, you got up from the comfort of your blanket-covered couch and made your way to the door. Looking through the peephole, you didn’t see anyone standing outside. Curiosity got the better of you, and warily you opened the door and poked your head out into the hallway.

It was empty, save for the pile of fabric and drink sitting neatly in front of your door. There was a note on top, and you picked it up first, reading the scratchy handwriting that you had a sneaking suspicion belonged to the boy across the hall.

Tell your shirt I said sorry.

The fabric, upon closer inspection, was a slightly too-large New York Islanders t-shirt, with the name Beauvillier scrawled across the back and the number eighteen on the sleeve. Anthony had gotten you a new shirt, and even though you knew nothing about hockey and it was nothing like the one that had gotten ruined you still appreciated the gesture.

You picked up the cup next, recognizing the logo as the one belonging to the coffee shop you had been at earlier in the day. It was hot chocolate, not coffee, and you were thankful that he had the foresight to not get you caffeine so late at night.

“Thanks, Anthony.” You said, a little loudly in case he was watching you through his peephole. You turned to head back inside with your new shirt and hot drink when he replied, still inside his apartment but clearly by the door.

“My friends call me Tito.” You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes and the tiny grin that made its way onto your face. Thankfully, your back was to his door and without looking you called out to him one last time before slipping fully into your apartment.

“Goodnight, Anthony.”

Because just because he got you a new shirt, it didn’t mean you liked him any better.

THREE

There weren’t many things you regretted, having grown up with the mantra of being true to yourself and being kind. But you did have one regret, and it was coming back to bite you. And that was not looking up who exactly Beauvillier was on the Islanders team the moment you got the shirt.

Because if you had, there was absolutely no way you would have agreed to a third date with Max in finance that had ice level seats to the Islanders vs. Hurricanes game.

“Have you ever been to a hockey game?” Max asked, his arm slung over the back of your seat as you waited for the players to come out for warmups. You shook your head at his question, certain that you had already told him three times that you had never been to a game. You were pretty sure that he couldn’t hear a single word you said over his own ego. “I’ll make sure you get you a souvenir from your first game.”

“Okay.” You nodded, pretending that you were distracted by the huge crowd in the arena. Him getting you a souvenir sounded a little too much like you were a kid. Something in a crowd changed, voices louder as the music switched from top pop hits to pump up music and Max jostled you with his arm around your shoulders to get your attention.

“They’re coming out for warmups.” He explained just as the first player came racing out of the tunnel, knocking a stack of pucks onto the ice. You watched, mesmerized, as the players raced around in circles for a few laps seamlessly, before picking up pucks to run some quick drills and shoot on the net.

It was all going smoothly, until your gaze fell on number eighteen out of curiosity. His back was to you, and you were easily able to read Beauvillier emblazoned across the back. Something about him seemed familiar, and it was only when he turned around that you realized why.

Beauvillier was Anthony. Beauvillier was your neighbor. Your neighbor, who you had yet to have a decent interaction with, was a professional athlete.

And you were currently on a date where you’d have to watch him play.

With your luck, he noticed you then, grin making its way onto his face as he looked up and met your gaze. It wasn’t a smug grin, but a genuine one, and just as he raised his hand to wave at you, another player purposefully knocked into his shoulder since he was distracted. If your memory served you right, it was Mat, the one that convinced Anthony to not turn the music down that very first night.

“What was that?” Max asked, and you tore your gaze from the ice to look at him with a confused expression. “Do you know Beauvillier?”

“He lives across the hall from me.” You explained, trying to sound as nonchalant about it as possible. It really wasn’t a big deal for you, that a pro athlete was your neighbor, but didn’t have the best relationship with him, and didn’t exactly feel like talking about him on your date. “I’ve talked to him like twice—”

You started to explain, but a crash against the glass in front of you tore your attention away from Max with a jump. You turned, having not even noticed Anthony had skated over and thrown his body against the glass to get your attention. He looked proud of himself, and was grinning at you without acknowledging Max.

You gave Anthony a curious and annoyed look as he pointed at you, then began to juggle a puck around on his stick, clearly showing off. It was impressive, you had to admit, but with each movement you could practically feel Max getting more and more annoyed. Finally, Anthony tossed the puck up and over the glass. Instinctively, you caught the rubber disk, and Anthony shot you a wink that was met with a roll of your eyes.

“Here, you guys can have this.” You smiled at the group of young kids wearing Islanders jerseys that had come down the glass for warmups. The little girl that you handed the puck to smiled brightly at you before running off excitedly to show her parents what she had gotten. They mouthed a thank you, and you waved them off with a grin. You turned back to the ice, flushing when you realized that Anthony was still looking at you. He didn’t look annoyed at you for giving away his puck, but instead was regarding you with a smile too soft for someone you barely considered an acquaintance. You gave him a pointed look, because that was easier to do than acknowledge the way your face warmed under his gaze, and he shook his head softly while still smiling. Civilly, he nodded to Max before retreating back with his teammates.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re just friends.” Max commented dryly, glaring daggers at the back of Anthony’s head as he skated away to finish warmups. You rolled your eyes, not bothering to acknowledge his childishness.

You watched the game with a renewed interest, cheering probably louder than you would have if you hadn’t realized that your neighbor was on the team. Besides, you had to entertain yourself somehow, as Max was giving you the cold shoulder ever since your interaction with Anthony. The Islanders pulled out a win, and you were riding a high up until Max dropped you off at your apartment.

“I don’t think this is going to work out.”

You looked at Max dumbly, a little hurt and waiting for an explanation. It wasn’t the end of the world for you, it was only the third date and he was a bit too stuck up for your taste, but it still sucked to be dumped.

“I just can’t compete with Beauvillier. I mean, he’s a pro athlete.”

And then he was gone, and you were left wondering just when you gave off the impression that there was any competition between him and Anthony.

The stupid puck, you cursed in the elevator up to your floor, because Max didn’t even bother walking you all the way to your door. He dumped you in his car in front of your building; how romantic.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened just as your frown deepened and eyes began to water. You were upset, not necessarily because you thought you had a future with Max but because Anthony’s stupid showing off ruined any chance you had. And just your luck, Anthony was at his door, unlocking it.

“Hey—” He started, way too chipper for the sour mood you were currently in.

“Thanks for that tonight, really.” You snapped, digging your keys out of your pocket as your tears blurred your vision. Your back was to Anthony, but you could feel his gaze on you. It was clear that he saw your upset expression, and you wished with everything you had that you had been able to wait until you were in the safety of your own apartment to start crying.

“What’s wrong?” He was at your side in your instant, but at the moment you didn’t want his sympathy. While deep down you knew that Max’s own insecurities were the reason that he ended things, but Anthony was the catalyst and you were projecting your anger onto him.

“Max ended things with me because you couldn’t help yourself.” You whipped your head to face him, too distraught to care that the keys had slipped from your shaky fingers. You held Anthony’s gaze, noting momentarily how dumbstruck and concerned he looks, before cursing to yourself and ducking down to pick up your keys.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He stammered out. You took a centering breath, and finally got your apartment unlocked. You wheeled around to face Anthony one last time, only to find he was still watching you curiously.

“Forget it.” And then because you couldn’t possibly look any more pathetic, you sniffled and swiped at the tears on your cheeks.

“I—”

“Forget it!” You interrupted a little louder, ducking into your apartment and swiftly shutting the door behind you. It’s not that you wanted to be mad at Anthony, you were just upset and he was the closest thing to being actually upset at Max.

Still, you didn’t see yourself ever getting along with him.

FOUR

It was two weeks later when you finally saw Anthony again. And, to know one’s surprise, his appearance put you in a sour mood.

To be fair, it was well past one in the morning when the knocking on your door started.

Part of you knew exactly who it was the moment you crawled out of bed. You hadn’t been asleep, with the next day being an obligation-free Saturday you had let yourself stay up late to watch a few extra episodes of your favorite show. Still, you were grumbling as you pulled a sweatshirt over your sleep shirt and shorts as you made your way to the door.

You looked through the peephole to confirm your suspicions, and with a roll of your eyes you swung the door open and gave the two men on the opposite side an unimpressed look.

“What?” You prompted, cataloging the smell of beer and the fact that Mat was leaning heavily on Anthony for support. The former was definitely drunk, and from the looks of it a few moments away from passing out.

“I locked myself out.” Anthony told you, as if that was a complete explanation. “And I can’t get a hold of the landlord.”

“And you’re knocking on my door because...?” You trailed off expectantly. You knew you sounded mean, but that wasn’t your entire intention. It was late, you were tired, and you weren’t the biggest fan of Anthony.

“Can we just come in and wait until I can get into my place?” Anthony finally asked. You considered saying no, a large part of you wanted to, but you knew that if the roles were reversed you’d want him to take pity on you. So, you simply sighed and retreated into your apartment, leaving the door open for Anthony to lead Mat into.

“He’s not going to throw up on my stuff, is he?” You questioned as Anthony dropped Mat onto your couch, the dark haired hockey player giggling as he landed on his side. You figured he had seconds before it was lights out, and needed to know if you had to dig out the puke bucket—a remnant of your wilder years in college.

“He should be fine.” Anthony waved it off, and you nodded slowly before sitting in one of the two armchairs you had gotten for your living room. Anthony sat in the other, located across the room with what felt like a thousand miles, but was just really Mat snoring, separating you.

You nodded and, because you couldn’t handle the awkward silence in the room that followed, pulled out your phone to check all your socials to pass the time. You had already checked your instagram feed, replied to a few snapchats, and was in the middle of crafting a text to your best friend explaining that your annoying neighbor was in your living room when Anthony cleared his throat and you looked up to meet his gaze.

“What did I do to make you so annoyed at me?” He asked, a genuine curiosity in his eyes that had you clicking off your phone and dropping it into your lap.

“How many people can you name that’d be happy with someone knocking on their door past one in the morning with a drunk guy begging to be let in?” You replied, a lack of hostility in your tone that surprised even you.

“I would have texted, but you haven’t given me your number.” It wasn’t for lack of trying, he had asked you for your number on more than one occasion. Everytime you shot him down; it was like a game you had been playing with him and would be playing until the end of time.

“I only give my phone number to friends.” Your response came quickly, and you were surprised to see a glimmer of amusement cross his face.

“Aren’t we friends?” He challenged and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“We’ve had like three total conversations before this, and you just brought over a drunk hockey player to crash on my couch.” You replied easily, the beginnings of a grin toying with the corners of your lips. “Is that how all your friendships are?”

“Only the fun ones.” He was fully grinning now, and you shook your head in a bid to hide your own smile. Silence fell over you and Anthony once more, except this time it wasn’t as tense and you didn’t feel the need to mindlessly scroll through your phone to escape it. Instead, you were openly taking in Anthony’s appearance. Clearly, from the state Mat was in, you had assumed they had been out drinking. But Anthony was dressed nicely, a button up with a few of the top buttons undone in a carelessly attractive way. You could see his chain from where you were sitting, and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t look extremely good.

Usually, you’d be embarrassed at openly checking him out. Except, he was clearly doing the same thing to you.

“Hey,” Anthony started, breaking you out of your trance and earning a questioning look from you. “Can we start over? I’m Anthony Beauvillier.”

You hesitated, biting the inside of your cheek to hide your grin. But it only took you a moment to agree to his request, and you gave him your name in the cheesy way he started.

“It’s nice to meet you, Anthony.” You teased, heart beating just a little bit quicker at his triumphant grin. You broke his gaze and looked to Mat, who you were pretty sure was drooling into your cushions, to distract yourself.

“My friends call me Tito.” He tried, mirroring what he said all those weeks prior when he had bought you the t-shirt. The t-shirt that had been sitting, folded up, at the bottom of the drawer. You smiled, a real and genuine smile as you looked back to him.

“Tito, then.”

PLUS ONE

From that night on, your friendship with Anthony only grew. Dinners at the other’s apartments, nights out with his teammates, and the occasional brunch where he had just gotten back from a road trip the night before and you were hungover from a girls night. He was slowly becoming a steady presence in your life and you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

Of course, you were thankful that you didn’t have to fight with him all the time. But you weren’t entirely ready to deal with the feeling that was quite the opposite of hatred that you felt for him.

You were falling for your annoying neighbor. And fast.

Of course, with playoffs, it meant you saw Anthony less and less. You watched each game religiously, even canceling on a few plans with some friends to stay in and support him from your couch. But you can’t win every year, and the Islanders’ season ended way too early.

You waited up probably much too late the next night for his flight to arrive back in New York, and made him text you when he got home.

My door is unlocked.

His simple text was all it took for you to anxiously jump off your couch and cross the hall. He was true to his word, and you slipped into his apartment quickly. His shoes were in the doorway and his keys were discarded on the counter.

It was only seconds later when Anthony emerged from his bedroom, having changed into a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He looked a little tired, and a lot defeated, and when the words to help lift his mood failed you, you crossed the room and fell into his open arms.

“I missed you.” You mumbled, deciding that was safer than bringing up the failed cup run. You were in uncharted territory, never having once to deal with someone who had just gotten knocked out of the playoffs.

“Stay with me a little longer tonight?” He hummed in response, his arms tightening around you the moment he felt like you were going to pull back. If there wasn’t such a heaviness around you then, you would have chuckled at his eagerness, but you nodded quietly and obliged him for a longer hug. Finally, he pulled back, but didn’t let you get far before as he latched onto your hand and led you into his living room and onto his couch. “Did you watch the game?”

“Yeah, you guys played well.” You tried complimenting him, but he only shook his head like he didn’t believe you.

“Not good enough, apparently.” He murmured, and you reached out to place a hand on his knee for comfort.

“You can’t think like that.” You told him softly, and he pursed his lips, covering your hand with his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Sorry, I’m being annoying about this.” In an unfamiliar bout of insecurity, he laughed humorlessly.

“You’re not annoying me.” You shook your head. This was something important to him, he was allowed to be upset about being knocked from the playoffs.

“Well, that’s a first.” He cracked a grin, a sign that his mood was changing. You pushed away the thought that you had an effect on him, not wanting to get your hopes up too much.

“Shut up.” You chuckled, knowing he was referring to the rocky start of your friendship with him. Though, he was welcome to tease you all night if it meant he was smiling again.

“Might have to go tell Mat, he won’t believe that you said that.” He mused, and you swatted at his shoulder playfully. In the course of your friendship with Anthony, you had also gotten to know Mat better, and he thought it was the funniest thing that you didn’t get along with Anthony for months.

“Okay, now you’re annoying me.” You grinned, watching with glee as Anthony rolled his eyes playfully. His gaze seemed to catch on something then, one of his fingers extending to tug at the fabric of your shirt.

“You’re wearing the shirt.” He commented, sounding a little dumbstruck. You had to look down to see what he was referencing, seeing that you had the Beauvillier t-shirt he gave you from way back when on.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You questioned honestly. You wore it often, the fabric was soft and it was a little oversized, which meant it was perfect to lay around in. Certainly, he had to have seen you in it already.

“I don’t know, I just thought you would have thrown it out. Considering how much you hated me when I bought it.” You didn’t reply, simply rolling your eyes playfully at him. He certainly wasn’t going to let that go anytime soon.

“I like the beard.” You changed the topic, offhandedly complimenting the facial hair that had grown in during his push for the cup.

“Je vous aime bien.” He replied, a blush on his cheeks. You furrowed your brows in confusion, not sure what he said. But with the look in his eyes and the redness creeping up his neck told you it was something you needed to know.

“What?” You asked dumbly. He spoke French around you often, mostly quick phrases and teasing comments, but this seemed like so much more.

“I… like you.” He confessed the absolute last thing you thought would. Your heart rate skyrocketed, brows shooting up and mouth parting in shock.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” He questioned, nerves evident in his tone and the way he slumped his shoulders and pulled back from you.

Oh was about how you felt. It wasn’t a bad oh, far from it, but you were confused about your own feelings. Because you did have feelings for him, that was for sure, but you had spent so much the beginning of your relationship with him not liking him at all.

“Forget I said anything, if you want to go then I under—”

“Fuck it.” You muttered, more to yourself than anything, before pushing yourself towards Anthony and wrapping one hand around the back of his neck to keep him in place as you connected your lips in a kiss.

He wasn’t expecting it, having thought your oh meant a rejection, but it only took him seconds before he reacted, hands falling to your waist to tug you closer. In his excitement, he tugged too hard and pulled you so either of your legs were across his lap. You broke apart from the kiss with a giggle, meeting his broad smile with one of your own.

“Someone’s eager.” You teased, sitting back in his lap and letting your hands brush across his shoulders and settle on his chest.

“Can you blame me? I’ve been waiting on you for a while.” He grinned, his smile wide as he admired you.

“How long is a while?” You questioned genuinely, thumb brushing  gently back and forth across the fabric of his shirt. You couldn’t get enough of him, and if the way he was smiling at you told you anything, he felt the same way.

“The night we met?” He grinned and you couldn’t help the roll of your eyes at his cheesy comment. It certainly wasn’t love at first sight for you.

“Me complaining about you being loud was how I got you?” You teased, remembering how annoyed you were at him, and how Mat did absolutely nothing to help the situation. He ducked his head up, catching your lips for a quick kiss before slumping back against the couch and smiling warmly at you.

“I mean, you’re cute when you’re angry.” He replied, one of his shoulders shrugging while he held your gaze like he never wanted to look away again.

“So that explains why you kept annoying me.” You mused playfully, watching as a small started to bloom on his cheeks.

“Well, those were accidents.” He confessed bashfully, squeezing your waist as you let out a laugh. “So, do you think you could give me another chance?”

He didn’t really need to ask for another chance, you had long since forgiven him for annoying you those few times. Still, you grinned at him and leaned down for another short, sweet kiss.

“I think I can be convinced.”

#anthony beauvillier #anthony beauvillier x reader #Anthony beauvillier imagine #tito beauvillier #tito beauvillier x reader #tito beauvillier imagine #New York Islanders #New York Islanders x reader #New York Islanders imagine #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #NHL imagine #NHL x reader

[hobbitingryffindor]

Don’t respond after 9 pm

So I've never written fanfic before, but apparently, I'm pissed at Jane. Please be kind, but also let me know if I should continue. I have a few other rules and scenes in mind. I have no idea if this will grow into anything more. Constructive feedback would be great.

___

Maura was ruminating. It was never good when she couldn’t get through her Saturday morning yoga session, but these days, it was becoming the norm. So after she finished her cup of tea, she locked herself in her yoga room, rolled out her yoga mat, and settled in with herself.

She had rules. They were new, and it was hard to keep to them some days, but they were there because she knew better. She knows she deserves more. She may not have had an attentive family growing up, but she knows her worth, or at least she’s gotten better at reminding herself. She knows what they have goes beyond friendship. She also knows it will never be more. Jane just keeps holding back the final piece of the puzzle. She could resign herself to a lifetime of this sexually charged and emotionally mediocre but never fulfilling relationship OR she could take a step back from Jane and a step forward for herself. But last night she forgot. She forgot the first rule she put in place almost a month ago.

1 - Don’t respond to Jane after 9 pm

Recognizing the anxious feeling that started in her chest, she told herself that it was a slip-up and it wouldn’t happen again. But she couldn’t help but grab her phone and reread last night’s messages.

10:36: J - Hey, you still up?

10:42: M - Just finished Bass’ enrichment and heading up to bed.

It had been such a simple response, it just floated out of her fingertips. She was so used to just always responding to Jane.

10:43: J- Enrichment? You can just say that you were in the sandbox hiding food for Bass to find.

10:44: M- Fine yes, I was reading his namesake’s new foreword in “Skeletal biology and bioarchaeology of the Northwestern Plains” while bass dug up the cactus leaves and strawberries I hid in his sandbox.

10:44: J- You make my night of watching the Sox lose seem like an exciting night

10:45: M- What can I say? We love to party over here.

10:45: J- I don’t know when it started, but you’ve gotten really good at sarcasm

10:46: M- You must be rubbing off on me ;-)

As Maura reread that line, she couldn’t help but cringe a little. She really couldn’t stop herself from going there last night, it was yet another small slip up, that showed how their friendship was always a little more than friendship.

10:59: J- I feel like I haven’t seen you at all this week, is the morgue backlogged?

11:04: M- It’s no busier than usual. Actually a little less so without a murder yet this month.

11:04: J- Give it time, Boston can’t go more than 2 weeks without a new murder. Have you been in court on other cases this week? I went to see if you could grab lunch a few times and I never caught you.

11:05: M- We must have just missed each other, I did lunch out of the office a few times.

11:07: J- You going to fancy places without me now?

11:09: M - Really Jane, any place that doesn’t allow jeans, you label as fancy. But no, a friend from my residency, Erica, did a few guest lectures at BCU. I caught one of her lectures and we had lunch a few times.

11:09: J- I see how it is, replacing me with other genii.

Reading this for a second time feels like a needle in her chest, last night it paralyzed her, she didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t replacing Jane, per se. This was also the point last night where she realized her mistake in responding to Jane’s late text. Even now, she still isn’t sure she handled it correctly.

11:18: J- Any plans for tomorrow?

11:20 M- While genii is correct, you can just say geniuses, you don’t have to try so hard. And, no I’m not replacing you. I was planning on browsing Newbury St in the afternoon.

11:21 J- Great, so I’ll pick you up at 2, I’ll carry the bags and then we can hit up Eataly for dinner? We haven’t been there in a while.

11:25 M- That’s okay Jane, I know you don’t enjoy my long shopping ventures, you don’t have to come. And I’ve got dinner plans, I’m sorry. But I’ll see you Sunday night for dinner.

After that, it was radio silence from Jane. Even after all these years, all the social cues Jane’s helped her learn, she still doesn’t know how to read the silence. Last night she was torn. She wanted to hang out with Jane but didn’t. Now she had to live with rejecting Jane’s plans, and what felt like a rejection of Jane herself.

That’s what brought her here, meditating as the sun was rising, or trying to anyway. Maura shook herself out and realized she was going to need a little help this morning clearing her mind. So she opened up the Calm app and resigned herself to a guided meditation. Maura went through the motions of her day, finishing off with an overzealous stop at Diane Von Furstenberg’s on Newbury just because. She still hadn’t heard from Jane and was trying to tell herself it was okay, they were okay, they were just both adjusting to this new normal. Maura hadn’t figured out what this new normal was supposed to be, but she knew she was unhappy with how Jane and she were a couple in every way, except in the way that mattered. Their friendship was unhealthy as it was. If they were only going to be friends, Maura was going to start making space in her life for other friends and possibly a lover or two. She can’t pinpoint when it happened, but her very active and healthy sex life seemed to slowly dry up the closer she and Jane got.

______________

Dressed in her new Midi dress, and a brand new pair of St. Laurent sandals, she waived to Angela across the courtyard as she headed off to meet Erica. Driving to the Chart House, she couldn’t help but reflect and acknowledge that Eric’s timing was creating a good distraction for her. She and Erica had done their residencies together, they hadn’t been best of friends, but she was always warm to Maura and tried to include Maura in her social circle. A few years after Maura moved to Boston, she reached out when she landed in Providence doing a Post Doc Fellowship at Brown. They’d do dinner a few times a year, trade interesting journal articles, nothing special, but it was nice to have a friend outside of BPD. When BCU invited Erica to guest lecture for the week, Maura decided she’d just drop in on the first lecture, which led to a couple of lunches earlier in the week, and a celebration dinner as Erica was just offered a tenure track faculty position starting in the fall. Pulling up to the valet station, she decided that this was just what she needed to expand her social circle a bit. She’d enjoy her evening, celebrate Erica’s new position and enjoy the late spring evening.

______________

Like clockwork on Sunday around noontime, the Rizzoli’s started to filter into her home. Angela always led the parade, bringing groceries and starting the prep process. Over the next couple of hours Jane, her brothers, little TJ, Frost, Korsak, Kiki, and even Susie sometimes would wander in and fill her house. When she invited Angela to live in the guest house almost 4 years ago, she never thought it was going to be permanent, nor did she think she’d enjoy having her there as much as she does. For all of Angela’s meddling and snooping in Jane’s life, she’d been nothing but respectful of Maura’s boundaries and privacy. Maura treasured how their patchwork family considered her house their gathering place, when it was full, it felt like the warm home she yearned for as a child. The amazing dinners, even if sometimes unhealthy, were a vehicle for that love and inclusion Maura had spent over 30 years searching for. She’d found it with Jane and her family, but she still craves more. She wants more than a patchwork family, she wants her own family.

As Maura was finishing up working in the garden beds Tommy and TJ arrived. By the time she’d entered the kitchen freshly showered and ready for Angela to put her to work, she saw Jane and Frankie had joined Tommy in watching a basketball game. Maura greeted everyone while looking at the TV, she noticed no one was wearing a green jersey so she knew Boston wasn’t playing, which usually boded well for her couch and rugs. TJ was in his high chair feeding himself some plain pasta while Angela sang to him. Maura and Angela quickly fell into their rhythm with this week’s batch of Ragu simmering on the stove. By the time the lasagna was in the oven, Frost, Korsak, and Kiki had arrived and, Angela and Maura joined the gang in the living room to snack on some arancini before dinner.

While Maura and Angela always cooked, the most relaxing part of Sunday dinners was when Jane and Maura cleaned up. Never fail the boys would head out not long after dessert and the games were over. And Jane in her way of appreciating her mother would kick her back to the guest house for an early night, while she took charge of cleaning up the kitchen.

“Another glass of wine while you work?” Jane asked Maura while grabbing the bottle

Maura just put her glass in front of Jane while nodding for more. The pots and pans were washed, the dishwasher had already started its cycle and Jane and Maura were moving to the living room to straighten up before settling in to catch up on their week. Normally all this happened with a comfortable level of conversation between them, but tonight, there was a little more silence than usual. With blankets folded and the remote located, they settled into the couch, each sitting against an arm, facing each other.

“You know mom asked me how your date went last night, I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone” Jane started.

“It wasn’t a date, I told you I was going to dinner with Erica, she’s just accepted an offer at BCU.”

“No, you said you had lunch with Erica” with a slight hint of annoyance that only Maura could pick up on. “I didn’t know you guys were doing dinner, I thought you might have been hiding a new boyfriend from me”

“No, no new boyfriend Jane. Although that would be nice or maybe a girlfriend, I haven’t dated a woman since I first moved to Boston”

Jane nodded, her eyes a little bigger than normal, sometimes Maura could swear Jane forgot she was pansexual.

“What about you? You seeing anyone new?” Maura asked, mostly to take the heat off of her. She didn’t know what was worse, talking about her lackluster dating life or trying to appear supportive of Jane's dating life when all she wanted was to be the person dating Jane.

“No, although Frost mentioned his old college roommate is single. I can’t believe I’m even entertaining the idea of letting him set me up.”

“You should at least meet him, if Frost is setting you up, I’m sure he’s a good man.” Maura grinned through a fake smile.

“I don’t know” Jane responded, Maura saw the walls going up “ I don’t want to talk about dating. Is Erica going to move to Boston? You know you’ve never introduced us, are you scared I’ll embarrass you?” Jane half-joked, changing the topic.

“No Jane, you have to stop with the self-deprecating humor, you know I’m not embarrassed by you. And yes, she needs to finish teaching a summer seminar at Brown, and then she’ll move up here.” The next words fell out of her mouth as soon as they occurred to her “I should see if she wants to come to next Sunday’s dinner.” Seeing Jane’s small annoyance grow into jealously, she redirected. “She can meet everyone, but please don’t interrogate her for college stories. You already know I was weird and awkward, you don’t need more things to tease me about!”

Jane took the bait “Ohhhh, I didn’t even think of that! I wonder if she’s got pictures!!

Maura just rolled her eyes, relieved that the tension was broken. She really did want Jane and everyone else to accept Erica, she remembered what it was like moving back to Boston and not having anyone. The rest of the night passed quickly, Maura kept the topics to mostly work or Boston politics. Jane could rant about local politics for hours and it didn’t put Maura at risk of gazing at Jane like she wanted to take her upstairs. A little before 11, Jane sighed and made her excuses about getting back to Jo before she relieved herself on the rug again. Pre-rules Maura might have made some comment about how much wine Jane had and how she should stay the night. Post-rules Maura kept her mouth shut. As Maura locked the door behind Jane, she couldn’t help but hope that just maybe, with some delicate balancing, she’d be able to move on from Jane and keep her as a friend.

________

Later that week Maura found herself at the Robber with the whole group, even Susie joined them. Maura was finding her new footing and it felt nice, it gave her a boost of confidence. Jane no longer acted as her interpreter when Frost made a joke, Korsak no longer felt the need to censor his dirty jokes and Susie actually had a pretty foul mouth once she had a few drinks. More than ever she noticed how breaking down her walls, allowed others to break their own down around her. She didn’t feel like Queen of the Dead anymore, she was Maura. As the night stretched on the table shuffled around a bit, Korsak left to meet Kiki, Frankie and Nina joined, Susie went home and Frost tried his luck with a pretty blonde at the bar.

Maura didn’t even notice how slowly Jane crept to her, close enough that her side was against Maura and her arm draped behind Maura across the back of the booth. But she did notice when the vibe between Jane and her started to mirror that of Frankie and Nina, right down to Jane ordering Maura another drink before checking with her. Maura and Jane were a couple, they couldn’t help it. The small touches, the laughing into each other’s sides, even the stolen glances. It no longer felt like hanging out, it felt like they were on a double date. It was too much for Maura, she excused herself to the bathroom to regroup. Looking at herself in the mirror, she scolded herself. She had to get out of there, she needed more distance. How could she possibly have her own relationship if she always ended up with Jane?

“I didn’t realize how late it had was,” Maura said marching up to the booth. “I’m going to head home. I’ll see you all in the morning? Those cultures should be ready by 10, I’ll page you when I have the report ready.” All of a sudden Maura infused a formalness into the air that wasn’t there before. Frankie raised his eyebrows but said nothing. It was weird for Maura to leave without Jane, or at least inviting Jane back to her house.

“I’ll leave with you” Jane started to get up.

“Oh no, that’s fine, I’m parked just across the street. I’ll be fine, stay, enjoy the rest of your beer” Maura responded with a slightly stern note. Jane nodded, “Party pooper, leaving me with these love doves” gesturing to Frankie and Nina, while they responded with mock offense. As Maura walked away, she didn’t see Frankie lean in and whisper to Jane.

Once Maura settled into bed for the evening she decided it was time for her to get out there. Even if it meant her joining one of those annoying dating sites. It was better to be trying than pining. Last week Erica had suggested How About We, it was worth at least signing up. She decided that it couldn’t hurt more than she was already hurting. While she hadn’t opened up to Erica about how frustrated she was with her’s and Jane’s relationship, she had expressed a desire to get out there more and Erica had offered a few bits of advice. If she couldn’t go to Jane about this, it was nice to at least have another friend to commiserate with about dating. As soon as she completed her profile, her phone beeped and a notification popped up on the screen.

11:17 PM

Jane Rizzoli

You awake?

Clicking her screen off, Maura put her phone on her nightstand and turned over for what would be a very uncomfortable night’s sleep.

#rizzoli and isles #rizzoli & isles #fanfic #Fanfiction #rizzles #rizzles fic #jane rizzoli #maura isles

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

if you’re going crazy, just grab me and take me

summary: after the worst year with this fucking family, Ransom proposes on ❄️ chrstmas eve  ❄️ it obviously doesn’t go over as well as his emotionally-stunted ass thought it would.

warnings: every god damn word in this thing is a problem. rough smut. choking, anal, hair-pulling, biting, this shit makes the first chapter seem light, i’ll just say that. a lot of fighting. verbal and physical. there’s some fluff but don’t let ransom trick you like he’s obviously tricked me.

word count: this shit is almost 25,000 fucking words 😂😂😂. i dead ass kept being like why the fuck am I taking so long to post this? Then I saw the word count and I 😳🤭🤗😂 someone pls tell me i did not just devote 25,000 words to exposing myself as a weak ass hoe for Ransom. pls tell me this is a fever dream. i can’t.

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

a/n: holy fuck, am i a disaster. i apologize, i kept falling asleep and wow, i’m just confused about my entire process for writing this bc it was abnormal af.

part one: x part two: x (however, you don’t really need to read them to understand this mess? pretty sure.)

Christmas Eve:

It somehow felt that the entire hellscape that you were currently living in had simultaneously transpired yesterday but also years ago. That was the common feeling one was left with in times of so much exposure to Thrombeys. It was a whirlwind, but there were the good moments, and then the really bad moments, but then the kind of fun moments… It was a rollercoaster, honestly. One you had incorrectly believed you could cope with.

Meg and Joni had called you in a panic from the ski lodge they’d gone to in Canada. There was talk of stopping all flights, how were they going to get home? And lord, what about their home? Were they really supposed to stay there? Since being cut off, Joni had made some career moves that were smart, but she still had to scale back. They were in a much smaller place than before, one that was only temporary—Joni claimed as much about one million times while signing the papers for it.

Jacob had been the next to call, a hysterical Donna could be heard in the background. They had also been moving into another home because of financial issues. You weren’t sure what the ploy was with having Jacob call. Out of everyone in the family, he was the one you spoke to the least, maybe in competition with his irritating mother. Perhaps that had been the angle, were you really going to leave them isolated with their possibly murderous son in such a small house in an unknown neighborhood?

The answer was no. You weren’t going to leave out any Thrombeys. The Drysdales, on the other hand… You had made your terms quite clear. So, with the news of a quarantine sweeping across the country, these overprivileged people flocked to the house they had once called their own. But it was your house now, and that meant it was well within your right to exclude Linda and Richard.

The night you had told Ransom about it was…quite a night.

March: the arrival,

Your grand idea was to deliver the news quickly, over a drink when he was in the best mood he could be. You casually told him that Joni and Meg would be arriving first, then Walt, Donna, and Jacob.

He stared for a long time before simply stating, “I will not let them in the house.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ransom—”

He leaned forward, slamming his glass down on the table between you. “It’s not happening.”

You arched an eyebrow. Was he trying to be intimidating? Oh, you would be just terrified if you were an elderly author or poor nurse tasked with caring for the mentioned author. Seeing as you were his girlfriend, he was out of luck on that.

“I will lock the doors,” he declared, standing to place his hands on his hips. “Not one of those assholes is getting in here. You understand me?”

Instead of answering, you grabbed your drink and returned to the magazine in your lap. That was probably Ransom’s greatest source of irritation, when you decided you were done with the dramatics and ignored him.

He scoffed. “The fact that you think this is happening… It just goes to show—you call me a narcissist, but clearly, you are the narcissist! It takes one to know one!”

It takes one to know one? “Are you five?”

He crossed his arms over his chest.

With a soft sigh, you turned the page. It was silent for several seconds and you weren’t sure if he was trying to build up to something or if he just had nothing else left to try. Whatever it was, you told yourself you were ready for it. How many years was it now? You couldn’t be surprised anymore.

“Are you only with me for sex?”

And you stood corrected. Narrowing your eyes, you looked up at him. “I’m sorry?”

“You clearly don’t care about my feelings—”

“Ransom, seriously, shut up. This is happening, okay? Your family is scared right now, you could try being human. This was their home for a time, of course, they want to be somewhere they feel comfort—”

“No, I’m putting my foot down.”

You rolled your eyes again. “You don’t have a foot to put down. This is my house, too.”

“Too,” he repeated firmly. “Too!”

“Ransom,” you snapped, getting to your feet and throwing the magazine on the table. “Stop acting like a child. They will be here tomorrow. I’m going to bed and if you wanted to join me, that would be great.”

He sat back down, a clear indication that that was not happening.

Things with Ransom, since the last argument, hadn’t been as tense as you thought they would be. Majorly, nothing really changed. Well, sex changed. You guys just weren’t doing that, which was major, because of the rate at which it had been occurring. But other than that, nothing changed. He wasn’t ignoring you, he wasn’t not touching you, there was very simple no sex. At all. But was that something you were okay with? Hell no. It was getting old and you were getting fucking tired of it.

“Fine, if you don’t, just know that I am keeping track.”

“Track?” he narrowed his eyes. “Of what?”

“How many nights I’ve slept without you and how many nights you’ve gone without fucking me.”

“After your last indiscretion, did you really expect anything else? Which you still haven’t apologized for, by the way.”

“Apologize?” you scoffed. “For keeping a fucking vibrator? What do you want me to say, Ransom? Sorry that I have yet to give you total control over my body?”

“That is exactly what I want to hear.”

Without another word, you simply rolled your eyes at him and stormed off to the room you had once upon a time shared with your boyfriend. Not that he officially moved out. In fact, he was still sleeping in there and kept his shit in there. But he was not falling asleep with you nor was he was present when you woke up.

You had no idea what he was doing in there and you were trying to be human, unlike Ransom. Everyone deserved privacy. Besides, he’d made you your sunroom and it afforded him a lot of forgiveness. It was this tiny extension of the house that had huge windows and was just small enough to fit your yoga mat, a couch, and about a billion plants. You read there a lot, you also escaped Ransom a few times. You could understand his desire for an office. But as frequently as he was using it? That was scary.

Admittedly, it was difficult to stay mad at him when you walked through the house that you’d almost now completely rebuilt together. The only exclusion being the office. It had been one of those Harlan rooms that you’d never actually been in prior because you were not family. Weeks ago, you watched Ransom remove everything, add new things, but you still hadn’t been inside. He didn’t so much tell you that it was his own personal room, but it was very clear in how he locked the door. Like, all the time.

You had already been prepping for bed, knowing that the discussion was going to be exhausting. You threw yourself straight into bed, not overly optimistic about the possibility that you were going to fall asleep.

Maybe it was the argument, the mention, the acknowledgment that you guys weren’t having sex. Did he even care? It didn’t seem like it. That caused concern for you. You’d always thought that you would be much older when the two of you would be having no sex. You wondered if things were changing, if your relationship was changing.

Officially, it was hopeless. You were not going to fall asleep. You were just about to get back up when you heard him walking up the stairs, you froze, held your breath, hoped that maybe he wanted to end this. Instead, he walked by the room and to the end of the hall, where said office was.

Fine, fuck him. You just had to get up and moving, there was no shortage of shit you had to prepare. Jacob, though terrible, was family, and a teenage boy. You were going to set him up in a smaller room on the bottom floor. Harlan usually had live-in staff stay in that room if they ever fell on hard times. You figured he would enjoy the privacy. Walt might even enjoy not sleeping in the same room as the next Ted Bundy.

Meg’s room was the most used since she stopped by on weekends sometimes when Ransom was gone for the day or stayed out late. They always met in the kitchen when morning came to argue and give you a headache, however.

She probably needed towels in the bathroom. She might even end up wanting different sheets. Jacob would need more sheets. Was there a color you should give him in the case that the little psycho killed someone, if you wanted to prevent stains? Joni’s room had been cleared out except for major furniture so you wanted to get that set before the morning. You had intended to set all of this up at some horribly early hour, but you were too annoyed to try sleeping. What better time than now?

Did you even have food? You would probably need to go to the store in the morning. You would make a careful list and ensure that no one would need to leave the house again because you were not going to let one of these rich idiots get you sick. Food, sheets because as you were walking through the linen closet, you discovered that you didn’t have really any sets of sheets. Then, you would need laundry detergent, fabric softener. Not all the rooms had pillows—

“What the hell are you doing?”

Ransom found you madly scribbling on a notepad in the center of Joni’s room. You didn’t bother to look at him when you answered, “Making a shopping list.”

“May I ask what for?”

“We have no sheets or pillows or food…or really anything, Ransom. Are we fucking vampires?”

He sighed as he made his way to you. “Okay, it’s time for bed.”

“Go away if you’re not going to be helpful.”

“No, get up now.” But he was met with nothing but silence. Instead of trying another round of verbal communication, he effortlessly grabbed your arms and picked you up.

“Ransom!”

He abruptly took your face in his hands. “They’re lucky they even get to be here. You’re not doing a single thing for these people.”

“Stop, okay? This is our house, we have to have these things—”

“No, you stop. Stop trying to do anything for them because no matter what, they’re going to complain.”

You glared. “Are you trying to help? Just go back to your stupid office and leave me be.”

He arched an eyebrow at you. “It is time for bed. I’m taking you to the room—”

“I’m just going to sneak out as soon as you leave for your office, so don’t waste my time or yours—”

He abruptly threw you up over his shoulder.

“Ransom!” you shrieked in absolute panic, he had never done this. Dragged you kicking and screaming? Yes. Literally pulled you along the floor by your legs? Yes. This? No, not once.

He was quick to get to the room, worried about how exactly you would react, what you were willing to do to make him drop you. He tossed you down on the mattress.

“You’re such an ass! I have to—”

He silenced you by pulling off his T-shirt.

So, he interrupted you because he wanted to have sex? After he had been withholding it? You feigned an unbothered expression. “Ransom, fuck off.”

He scowled. “Why did I have to find you? Why did life bring you to me? Personally, the meaningless fucking was fine for me, a lot less trouble.”

You scoffed. “Do you think I like being with you?! You’re the worst person I’ve ever fucking met, possibly the worst person on this fucking planet!”

He rolled his eyes. “Get on your knees.”

“You are not serious.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re seriously fucking insane, but you’re not serious in that you actually think that’s going to happen!”

“Get. On. Your. Knees. You can do it on your own or I can do it for you.”

You weighed your options. You wanted to have sex with your boyfriend, you wanted to be close to him. However, if he left you after you sucked him off, you might end up killing him. But what could you do? Ransom was apparently in a mood.

Whatever theatrics that were going to occur tonight were already planned, you realized. If he was going to walk away, he was going to walk away. No amount of arguing or any other behavioral tactics were going to change that. You would hit him, you were sure of that, but at least you could get back to making your home presentable.

You reached back for a pillow and gave him a challenging look. He arched an eyebrow at you as you slowly jumped off the bed, laid your pillow at his feet and got to your knees.

“The fuck is this? You suddenly a princess?”

“I’ve always been a princess,” you declared. “One day, a wonderful man or woman, who’s going to give me an even bigger house, is going to know it.”

He glared. “What the fuck is your problem? Do I need to start paying you to keep your mouth shut?”

You snorted. “You have money?”

And that was, apparently, a line crossed for Ransom. Furiously, without another word, he yanked his pants open and shoved them down with his boxers.

Instead of staring at his cock in front of your face, you looked up at him.

He sighed. “Y/N, suck my cock.”

You shrugged. “Why?”

He took himself in one hand and grabbed your hair in the other. He brought your mouth to the head of his cock and waited patiently. You did nothing, simply kept your gaze on him. Rolling his eyes, he pulled at your hair.

You attempted to keep your lips clamped but he continued yanking until you opened your mouth to cry out. Then, without hesitation, he shoved his cock down your throat. You gagged instantly, hands snapping up to shove at his thighs. He wouldn’t budge, he kept you there no matter how hard you tried to push him away—which, admittedly, since you were so wet, wasn’t very hard—or how many times you gagged.

His free hand touched your cheek. “You’re fucking beautiful like this.”

He could fuck off—as soon as he was done coming, you would walk away. You didn’t even want to be fucked by him anymore. But sadly, you had missed the taste of him, the feel of his skin on your tongue.

When he finally pulled you off his cock, you gasped for air. Then, once again, he was thrusting back in. You were choking on him, eyes watering, throat burning, drooling, sniffling, hands begging to be let up again with how hard they gripped his thighs.

But Ransom only let you off when he wanted. The second time, he allowed you to try to catch your breath. Your head was spinning since you were not quite getting oxygen back fast enough. You were blinking away those tiny black spots appearing behind your eyes. He used one hand to wipe away the tears on your cheeks and whatever was falling down your chin.

Then he was bringing you down once more. Holding you in place, he began fucking your mouth slowly, gently, two words that normally did not apply to Ransom. He took his time, he wanted you aching and craving him, and you really fucking were. You thought you wouldn’t feel a thing if he walked away after thing, but now, you knew you were going to set that office on fire if he tried it.

As he neared his end, he grew noisier. You liked that about Ransom, he didn’t hold back due to some insane fragile masculinity thing—no, that was often displayed in less conventional ways. He liked fucking you and he liked letting you know.

He picked up speed eventually, paying no mind to the sounds of you choking every time he thrust in a tad too hard. You didn’t even care, you knew you would be soaking wet, if you just reached down and felt…

He yanked you down when he was coming, buried deep in your throat, reveling in the feel of your throat moving around him, trying not to choke, trying to breathe. “Don’t make a mess, baby, swallow everything I’m giving you.”

You tried, really, you were not just playing your usual game of disobedience. But he really was choking you, so when you tried to swallow, things did not go according to plan. You gagged, nothing was swallowed. A mess you did create. On him, the floor, yourself, the pillow.

Ransom pulled you off and then grabbed your arm to haul you up. His hand still in your hair, he forced you to look up at him, bending your neck back almost uncomfortably. You were still struggling with lack of oxygen and just about fell into him completely, clearly being bratty was not on your mind.

He waited patiently, as if he wanted an explanation. No, you did not intend to do the opposite of what he had told you, but you weren’t about to let him know that. “Baby,” he cooed. His hand slid up from your arm to your neck where some of his cum was sliding down toward your chest. “What was what?”

“Out of practice, I guess. It’s been months since you’ve touched me.” Okay, it had just barely been two months yesterday, but if he could be dramatic, you were allowed as well.

He arched an eyebrow. “Considering you only need to say one word to me, I don’t think you really want it that bad.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

His expression fell. He had hoped you would desperately blurt out an apology, clearly. Without another word, he shoved you onto the bed.

You stared up at him, face composed. “Don’t you have an office to be in?”

“You seem very jealous of that office, baby.”

“Why would I be? I finally get to be away from you.”

He leaned forward and grabbed your shorts and panties. The way he ripped them off you was damn near violent. You both wanted something rough tonight. “Then why is your pussy wet?”

You shrugged. “Couldn’t be for you. I can’t remember the last time you made me come.”

He leaned over, slowly crawling his way up your body.

Without prompt, you reached between your bodies and pulled your shirt over your head, arching a little more than necessary.

He took your forearms and pinned them to the bed. “Tell me how bad you need me.”

You shook your head. “I don’t.”

“I’m not joking.”

“I’m not joking,” you countered. “I. Don’t. Need. You.”

He took your jaw in one hand, forcing you to meet his stare. “Y/N, seriously.”

He really wasn’t joking, but again, neither were you. “Ransom, if you walk out before you fuck me, I will leave you. Do you understand me? I’ll fucking disappear, and you will never ever see me again.”

He smirked. “I understand.”

“I need you,” you breathed, free arm sliding around his shoulder, clinging tight. “I really fucking need you. I need you inside me. You know it’s been too long.”

Smiling like he just won the lottery, he rolled onto his side a little, turning your hips with him. “Yes,” he agreed. “Too long, baby, I’m sorry.”

You knew he wasn’t. You felt his tip at your entrance and you held your breath. He was a dick, yes, but you had been absolutely starving for his touch, his attention.

He pressed inside and it stung almost as bad as it had the first time. You turned your head away, hand pressed to your mouth to keep quiet. You hadn’t noticed your eyes were filled with tears until he touched your cheek and you blinked in surprise. You weren’t sure what you were crying about, the pain or the relief of finally feeling him.

You kept yourself turned from him, hoping he would just drop it. Of course, he wouldn’t. Of course, the one time you were willing to give Ransom a pass to be a complete ass, he wouldn’t want to take it.

“Sorry, baby girl,” he cooed. He had stopped, letting you adjust to him. However, Ransom didn’t have an ounce of patience and you knew his restraint was slipping. “I’m sorry, I’ll make it better.”

You also knew he wasn’t sorry. You squeezed your eyes shut until he was buried inside you. Feeling so full was something you had missed but feeling wanted was what you had been longing for. He could say the words, he could give you lingering looks when you were wearing a dress or a tight top, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t convince you like when he just grabbed you and used you to satisfy every sick desire he had.

He grabbed your face and forced you to turn back but your eyes were shut. Instead of trying to get you to look at him, he kissed you. His lips moved over yours until you were finally curling into him, his arm wrapped around your back and pinned you against him.

Intimate, close, slow, but so fucking hard, that was how he made you come the first time. There were no words, just grabbing each other, gasping into the kiss, biting one another’s lips, tongue and teeth, scratching nails, pulling hair. He watched your face as you were coming down, hips still snapping up, fingers brushing along your cheeks.

He rolled onto his back and brought you with him. You hissed at the ache of this new angle, using your knees to pull off just a little. He took your hands and set them to the headboard. The way he stared up at you, like he was worshiping every inch of you, it made your skin burn.

“Ride me,” he ordered.

Hands gripping the bed, your hips began to roll. Ransom stared the whole time, where his cock was disappearing inside you, your moving breasts, your gorgeous, soft body. He used one hand to pinch your nipples alternatively and the opposite hand to focus solely on your clit.

You were breathless, shaking, chasing after that climbing high. You let the headboard go in favor of grabbing his hands, dragging them up to circle around your neck. As he began to apply pressure, you continued bouncing on his cock, unashamedly screaming now that he was stifling the noise.

Watching your eyes fill with tears, hearing those strangled sounds tear from your throat, it was enough to get him there as soon as your cunt started to tighten. He was coming with you, squeezing your neck tighter, so tight you tried to pull his hands off you.

But it was futile, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. He threw you down, rolling over so he was on top of you. You wrapped your legs around him, spreading your thighs and taking him in deeper.

He set one hand to the mattress to hold himself up but kept his other hand on your neck. He leaned over, forehead pressing to yours, breathing hotly against your skin. “Say it again.”

“Say what?” you choked out.

“You know.”

You always knew. He had only asked you for this one other time since you’d said it that first night. You stopped caring that he was probably never going to say it back. “I love you.”

His hips finally stilled. You weren’t sure what his response was going to be, but you knew what it wasn’t going to be. Yes, you’d stopped caring, but were you okay with it? You weren’t entirely convinced. But what were you going to do? Leave Ransom? That seemed highly unlikely.

So, you decided to speak before he could. “Even though you’re a fucking loser.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “And I guess you’re hot enough to keep around even if that mouth annoys the hell out of me.”

That, you suspected, was as close as he was going to get to ever stating his feelings for you. “Are you going to let me get back to my list?”

He rolled his eyes. “No. Not done yet.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Really? You lasted, like, three minutes—”

He gave you a sharp look. “Must be my age, I guess I’ll need a minute before I can go again. But you, baby girl,” he grabbed one of your hands and brought your fingers up to his lips.

You watched closely as he kissed every knuckle before he brought your hand down and pressed your first two fingers to your clit. You shuddered. “Ransom, wait—”

“Since you like getting yourself off so much, you’re going to—”

You sighed. “Ransom, please—”

“And I’m going to watch until I’m ready to fuck you again.”

You pouted up at him. “You said it was time for bed.”

“I changed my mind.” He pulled your legs from around him and sat back to watch you. He pulled one thigh further from the other and gave you an expectant look. “I wasn’t asking, baby.”

For what felt like the first time in years, you were woken up by your boyfriend with his hand between your legs. You were laying on his chest, he was kissing the top of your head, tracing patterns along your spine and just barely teasing your clit.

All he needed to know was that you were awake and then had you pinned underneath him before you could say a word. Last night was nice but now the sun was shining through the blinds and you could see all of him. The freckles on his skin, the fine lines around his mouth because he does actually smile even if he doesn’t want anyone to know. And all his muscles—ugh.

“Good morning,” he said softly.

You smiled. “I have to get up and start getting ready.”

“No, baby. The only thing you need to do is open your legs so your boyfriend can fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”

“Oh, deserve?” you scoffed. “I always deserve to be fucked. What changed your mind?”

He shrugged his shoulder. “Does it matter?”

Few things did when it really came down to your relationship with Ransom. It was all one huge give-and-take and neither of you shied away from taking advantage of that lack of communication.

He kept you there for nearly half an hour, insisting that you give him just one more finish, but he’d done that nearly four times. The reason you were able to escape was that there was someone at the door. As Ransom when to see who it was, you ran for the shower.

You were surprised when he joined you. One of your favorite things in your entire relationship was taking showers with Ransom, but it rarely happened. Whether that be because you were always on a time limit when you were getting ready or because he woke up later than you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“I miss taking showers with you, you’re warm.”

He turned to kiss your cheek. “You going shopping?” he muttered against your skin.

“Yeah, we don’t have anything either. We’re out of your favorite cookies, you know.”

He hummed. “Okay, just be safe. Wear a mask and try not to touch anything you don’t have to. Put everything in the back of your car, I put hand sanitizer in there so use it before you touch anything inside.”

You scoffed as you looked back, eyebrow arching. “You sound scared.”

He shrugged. “Well, you know… I just don’t want you to get sick.”

You smiled a little.

“Because I don’t want to have to take care of you.”

“Ugh, Ransom!” You brought your hand up to flick his forehead, but he caught your wrist and used the opposite hand to turn you around.

His arm slid across the small of your back and he picked you up to walk you to the shower wall. He pinned you against it completely, the shower head was almost directly over the two of you. Instead of attempting to watch him, you closed your eyes and pulled him into a kiss by his hair. He angled his hips up and easily thrust inside you.

Your mouth dropped and you gasped, he used that as his chance to bite down on your lip. You were sore between your legs, but the ache was a reminder that Ransom had put aside his pettiness because he had wanted you so badly. You brought your leg up to hook around his hip and used that as your leverage as you began to roll your hips.

He shuddered and bit harder on your lip still trapped between his teeth. He only let it go so he could turn down and press his mouth to your shoulder. “Slow baby, fuck me slow.”

You did as he directed. You slid off his cock and then slid back down, using all the restraint you could muster because you couldn’t wait until his broke. You couldn’t wait for him to grab you and take charge.

His hand slid between the two of you and he began pressing down on your clit, just slightly.

“I could kill you, Ransom,” you blurted out. “You better not ever go so long without touching me again.”

He nodded. “I promise, I will not.”

If you had a question about his tone, it died when his hands finally grasped your hips. “Tell me what you want.”

“Hard,” you pleaded. “So hard, please. I want to feel you all day, I want it to hurt until you’re inside me again.”

And goodness, did he make it hurt. He fucked you until you could no longer stand, until you weren’t able to coherently tell him that you weren’t sure you would ever be able to on your own again.

He had to set you on the floor of the tub when he knew it was time to get out. You weren’t sure why, and if you had been in a better mindset, you would have remembered the importance of always asking Ransom questions about his actions. However, all you could do was stay still, a little dizzy, vibrating pleasantly all over.

It somehow felt like hours but only seconds that he left you alone. When he was standing you back up, you still didn’t have the good sense to ask what the hell he was doing, but you absolutely melted when he pulled you from the shower and wrapped you up in a warm towel. A towel that had clearly just come out of the dryer—this man, that he could be so perfect and just chose not to be, deserved to be in jail. Yeah, the murder thing was a strike against him, you guessed, but this? Unforgivable.

When you got back home, there were several cars that you had never seen. Somehow, despite not getting an inheritance, the Thrombeys still knew how to make money. Which just made the whole Harlan thing even more annoying. Why all the dramatics? Rich people didn’t get poor the same way poor people got poorer. It was merely a showing of greed.

But you could not dwell on things like that, otherwise, this whole thing was going to go bad much quicker than you had suspected. You also couldn’t be the one that made it go bad. You weren’t an actual Thrombey or a Drysdale—and never would be since you fell in love with the least committal one of them all. You, despite extending your home and kindness, needed to be a lot more behaved than Ransom.

As you were bringing in the groceries, you glanced at the cars. There were five in total and you shuddered to think Jacob was driving. He was about that age, of course, but still, yikes. Meg and Joni probably showed up separately, which meant Donna and Walt did as well. Okay, weird, but you long ago stopped trying to guess why these people did what they did.

You wrestled with the front door for a moment and the noise of it brought in Joni and Meg. The older woman was completely decked out in crystals, unsurprisingly, you had just read an about how crystal shops were doing particularly well at this time.

“Hey, guys,” you greeted.

“Thank you so much for letting us stay here,” Meg immediately responded, taking some of the bags from your hands.

Joni followed her daughter’s lead. “Yes, honey, let us help you.”

Okay, suspicious. These people rarely did a thing that would constitute as the simplest of work—save for Meg, of course. “Thanks, but Ransom really should be helping me.” You gently pressed the door back with your leg, not shutting it completely but trying to keep the cold at bay. “Ransom!”

“He’s in the kitchen,” Joni informed.

“Great, we can head that way.”

On the walk there, you found Donna and Walt were in what was now one of many family rooms. They greeted you a tad overenthusiastically—regardless, you couldn’t stop, you’d just deal with it later.

“You didn’t need to go shopping for us,” Donna said.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you assured. “We needed a few things, I thought I’d get it done all at once so you guys wouldn’t need to worry about it.”

As if given a cue, they all began to thank you again. Again, you would need to deal with this when your arms were less full and there weren’t about a million bags in the back of your car.

You led the way to the kitchen, Meg and Joni on your tail. “Was the trip over here easy enough?”

“So weird,” Joni claimed. “People are literally going insane. I went to my usual crystal shop before I got here…”

Typical. She proceeded to tell you about how she had an “altercation” with a woman for a tiger’s eye finished into the shape of her animal spirit guide—which you were forgetting at the moment, a swan or something.

You stopped trying to recall those past conversations in case she quizzed you about what your animal was—she had stressed the importance of finding it and you promised you would the next time you saw her—when you saw Richard and Linda sitting at your kitchen table. Ransom was at the counter, a glass of whiskey in hand.

You merely glanced at them before turning to him. There were no words at all for the rage you felt at that moment. Joni had stopped speaking and was working to get the bags she’d taken from you onto a flat surface so she could grab the rest.

“Y/N!” Richard greeted. “Thank you so much for letting us stay here.”

You lifted your eyebrows at Ransom.

“She obviously didn’t know, Richard,” Linda pointed out. “Because she’s been trying to steal my son away since the day that she met him.”

You turned to her. “Are you—?”

“No, no, no,” Joni interjected. “She didn’t mean that!” She set the last of the bags down and touched your shoulder. “She’s joking!” She turned to Linda. “You’re joking, right?”

“Of course,” Linda claimed, unconvincingly with a smirk that you had come to recognize as smug. Not that you’d seen it much on her, but her son, on the other hand…

Speaking of Ransom, he looked beyond exhausted. Only, he wasn’t, he was just trying to convey that because it was clear that he didn’t intend to have this discussion with you. It never was a discussion, because, for some reason, he made all the excuses in the world for his mother and would obviously choose her over you.

Suddenly, in your mind, things all fell into place. Richard and Linda probably got here after all the others, the rest had been set to get there around noon. He’d kept you in bed to stop you from getting home before them because then you could keep them out of the house, you could have caused a huge scene. Now? It was clear that you were outvoted, the rest of the family probably would have thought of you as unreasonable if you kicked them out now.

Fine, it was all fine. You weren’t going to argue about this, not then. It would give Linda joy to see you have a complete meltdown. Ransom had already humiliated you enough by doing this completely behind your back, you weren’t going to give her anything else.

You turned to the counter to grab his keys. “Well, then you get to go back to the store.” You threw the keys at his chest, probably harder than you should have, and turned to head back out to your car.

It was silent until you exited the room, then Linda felt the need to voice her opinion no one asked for. “I’m just saying, I wouldn’t marry her. She’s shopping for essential items the day company was planned to arrive?”

You turned right back around but Meg was there to usher you back outside. She knew you needed a moment of fresh air and a moment away from Linda. Meg was a rather sympathetic person, she understood completely where you were coming from. In her mind, you were right and Ransom was so wrong for what he did, and Linda was wrong as well. But she also told you, this was how this family went. Linda was at the top now that Harlan was gone. If you sincerely wanted to be with Ransom—and she was confused about that—you would have to suck it up.

That much you agreed with, to an extent. It was clear that you were never going to be able to fix these people completely, but you were trying to create boundaries. Linda could not hit your boyfriend, her son. But how was she going to learn that if Ransom didn’t give a damn? She wasn’t.

You were suddenly wishing you’d accepted the invitation from your parents to stay with them until this all settled down. You had been too scared, however, because of the distance that seemed to be growing with Ransom. Now, you just felt like an idiot.

He lied to you. He did this behind your back, and he used intimacy to distract you from his plans, and that was absolutely disgusting. You couldn’t get over that. You felt used, by the one person you’re supposed to be able to trust more than anyone else in the world.

“Meg, can we have a minute?”

You turned away as soon as you heard Ransom off to your side. If you had a minute with him, you would probably murder him.

“Um,” she started, shifting awkwardly.

“It’s fine,” you assured. “Can you start putting away the groceries, please?”

“Yes, I will do that,” she eagerly confirmed. Meg liked to feel helpful, she often felt guilty about her privilege and wanted to be anything but another typical Thrombey. It was refreshing given all the other extreme personalities you would have to be living with for a while.

“I bought enough sheets for every single bed in the house for the next ten years,” you informed. “Those are fine. We’ll just need more food, probably—”

Ransom reached out for your arm, but you jerked away from him.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Hey—”

You finally turned to him. “I am not talking about this. You lied to me, you did this behind my back—”

“She’s my mom—”

“And I’m your girlfriend!” you hissed back. “And I am so fucking tired of this and you. Last night, you had sex with me to distract me so you could fucking sneak your parents in here. Who does that?!”

“That’s not why I had sex with you—”

“Really?” you demanded. No, you wouldn’t be having this talk, it wasn’t happening. Turning away, you sighed, “It doesn’t matter. I’m done talking to you about this, I’m serious. Do whatever the fuck you want, Ransom. That’s what you always do anyway. I’m done caring.”

“Look, we can’t be fighting with these people here—”

“You should have thought about that before you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie—”

“I’m having a really hard time right now not running you over with my car,” you asserted, “So I’m going to go back inside. I just need you to go to the store for me, okay? Please, can you do one thing, literally, Ransom, just one thing to help me feel, like, 10% less stressed about all of this?”

“Okay. Yeah, I’ll go to the store.”

“Great.” You started to pull out more bags from the car.

“Can we talk about this later?”

“I don’t know yet.” Hell no, but you weren’t going to tell him that. With full arms, you stormed around him and back into the house.

Later, when he got home, he discovered that you had moved out of the bedroom. Yes, you had moved your shit to another room, locked it, and acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

April: the parents’ bedroom,

It was six in the morning, you had just failed at finishing your yoga routine due to your pounding headache. You’d thought a smoothie would make you feel much better, but see, that was with the condition that everyone else was still asleep.

Not the case.

Joni and Richard were currently in the middle of a debate about anti-maskers. Joni, surprisingly, given all her healing crystals shit, thought anti-maskers were idiots. Richard, on the other hand, believed this was a free country and people should have the right to choose anything and everything because “that’s America”.

You had a blender full of ingredients and when you finally got to turn it on, it was comparable to an orgasm. If only because you and Ransom were back to a no-touching arrangement. You could barely stand to look at him.

They seemed unbothered by the blender, their argument only getting louder. You went to the cabinet to grab some pills, anything that would make your head feel better. Could anything with these people? You weren’t overly optimistic about that prospect.

You took your place back at the blender, leaning down to fall into the pain of that instead of the politics conversation. They did this often. Last week, it was whether people should vote this November. Prior, it had been traveling bans, canceled events, whether unemployment should be giving people as much as they are. Linda and Walt interjected sometimes, even Meg because she couldn’t remain silent on a few occasions, but you, Ransom, and Jacob all but steered clear of it.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and stood up straight. You didn’t want anyone knowing you weren’t feeling well. Richard and Walt always acted like you were dying, Joni would start with her crystals and lectures about the importance of meditating.

Thankfully, it was just Ransom. He had been out, he was wearing a scarf, a heavy jacket, and his pale cheeks were flushed red. He nodded out of the room and you followed because silence seemed too tempting.

“What is it, Ransom?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I need a reason to speak to you?”

Your eyes fell shut and you pressed your fingers to your temples. He wasn’t being serious right now, was he? He wanted to have a conversation right now? You felt on the verge of death.

He touched your shoulder again. “Are you okay?”

“Just a headache. Not a big deal.”

“Not trying to be an ass—”

You opened your eyes. “But you’re so good at it.”

“I told you this was a bad idea.”

“Ransom,” you sighed, shrugging his hand off.

He caught you before you could turn away. “Hey.”

“Ransom, please, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“I don’t want to talk much either.”

You narrowed your eyes.

He shrugged. “You know I know how to make you feel better when you have a headache.”

You hummed. “Sex? Why? Are you trying to distract me again? Were you hoping I wouldn’t notice your inability to wake up at a reasonable hour for me, but how willing you seem to wake up at 5 in the morning to have coffee with your mommy?”

“I wasn’t asleep,” he insisted. “And she heard me come downstairs.”

“Yes, great cover. So convincing.”

“I do not wake up to have coffee with her every morning. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

You lifted your eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He glared. “It’s because I hate sleeping without you.”

“You made me sleep without you—!”

“That was not what you think!”

You narrowed your eyes. “It wasn’t a temper tantrum over the vibrator?”

“No, okay, stop. We’re not going back, okay? No talk about the past, we need to talk about now. You’re the one that made me promise that I wouldn’t withhold sex—”

“I’m not withholding sex, Ransom, I just have no desire to be around you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Doubt that.”

“If you’re having issues sleeping, maybe you should ask your mommy to read you a bedtime story and—”

He pressed his hand over your mouth and started dragging you across the room.

Immediately, you started screaming at him. What the fuck? And you continued to do this until you realized he was leading you to Richard and Linda’s room. Eww, if you didn’t want to talk to him, you certainly didn’t want to talk to her.

But despite your struggling, he forced you into the room and slammed the door before you could escape.

“What the hell?” you demanded.

“This fight is over.”

“No, it’s not!”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous because I care about you? I’m done, I can’t do this anymore. My parents want me to stay with them and I think I should—”

His eyes widened at you. “This is your god damn house—”

“You clearly don’t think so! I had one condition, just one fucking condition. I wanted her to apologize for trying to physically assault you and somehow that makes me the villain in this situation?”

“That’s not what I’m saying—”

“You went behind my back, Ransom.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

Wow, was that an actual apology? It didn’t matter. One apology a month later was too small. “Look, it’s too late, okay? I’m exhausted and I just want to go home—”

“This is your fucking home!”

“No, it’s your mother’s fucking home and it always will be if you let her do whatever the fuck she wants!”

“She apologized!”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed.

He reached into his pants and yanked out his phone. Easily, he found one of the last texts that they had exchanged and turned it to you.

Don’t tell your psycho, fragile girlfriend but I am sorry. I shouldn’t have acted the way that I did. I understand that it was out of line, it will not happen again. Can we come over? You know I don’t want to be alone with your father.

It took three seconds to go from partially angry to very, absolutely, completely outraged. You smacked the phone out of his hand and it clattered to the hardwood floor. “I’m going to fucking kill you, Ransom!”

He threw his arms up. “For what?!”

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me this earlier?!”

“She would have known that I told you.”

“And?!”

“And,” he began, “I…don’t really know what I thought would happen.”

You shoved at his chest and he didn’t even have the energy to step back simply to make you feel better. He didn’t move an inch because you shoving him was like a cat trying to push a lion. “You are such a fucking mommy’s boy! I’m done with this whole thing, I’m done with you!”

“No, you’re not!”

“Yes, I am! You can’t make me stay here, you can’t make me—”

“You love me!”

Your eyes widened. He made you tell him you loved him, never said it back, and now he was using it against you? “You are dead! Do you understand me?! I’m going to run you over with your fucking Beemer! Then I’m going to get a new boyfriend and I’m going to let him fuck me in that stupid fucking car!”

He grabbed a handful of your hair and your hands flew back to scratch at his forearm. He shoved you back onto the bed and made the mistake of rolling over to attempt to get away from him. He grabbed both of your wrists and managed to get them into one of his hands, then yanked down your yoga pants.

“You are tearing them, you ass!”

And then he smacked your bare skin hard enough that it echoed, loud enough that you were sure anyone in the kitchen could have heard it. Your entire body burned with humiliation, but you loved the pain. How had you survived so long without him doing this?

“Shut the fuck up,” he ordered.

“Are you seriously trying to fuck me in your parents’ room?” you snapped.

“No, I am going to fuck you in my parents’ room,” he corrected. “What? You’re not into this anymore? This wouldn’t be the first time.”

“They sleep here,” you reminded. “This is weird given your obsession with her.”

“I changed the sheets this morning.”

“Are you fucking serious? You’re her maid now?”

He smacked you again and you pressed your face down to muffle your scream. “No, I just always knew that I was going to fuck you here today.”

You waited until the pain subsided before you turned your face, Ransom was still working the yoga pants down, a task that seemed impossible with only one hand. “Where were you today?”

“I had a meeting.”

“With whom?”

“None of your business.”

“Yes, it is my business, you fucking dick! If you’re not going to let me go home—”

He spanked you again, harder now, it seemed like an angry action, not just a retaliating one. “You are home, this is your fucking home and if you suggest otherwise again, I fucking swear—”

“What?” you demanded. “You’re going to tattle to your mommy?”

“I should fucking strangle you,” he growled, and before you could say anything, his hand was at your pussy. He scoffed. “You are seriously this wet? You have so many fucking issues.”

“One issue,” you argued. “You.” But that was a lie and he was more than right. You could hear him moving his pants out of his way and you were nearly shaking with the need to feel him.

Abruptly, he shoved his cock inside you and you both moaned as you adjusted around him. It was loud, obscenely loud, there was no question about what you two were doing, and you honestly didn’t care anymore. Had he gotten bigger? No, that wasn’t possible. You were pretty sure it wasn’t.

You felt him moving to tear off his coat. “Don’t you dare throw that coat on this floor, Ransom.”

But he did and he did it so eagerly, like he wanted to irritate you. The floors were hardwood, Linda had her dogs in the home, and their fur got everywhere on Ransom’s clothes. He hated you, you hated it because he just threw things away—didn’t even donate them because he’s such a beast.

Next, you felt his scarf around your wrists and started struggling.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Shut up,” he snarled.  “You’re lucky I’m not fucking gagging you.”

As his hips began rocking just slightly, he grabbed your jaw and turned your head back. His lips found yours immediately and while you two were sharing a sloppy, unskilled kiss, he began driving his hips into you as hard as he knew you needed him to.

His skin was slapping against yours noisily, the bed was creaking, moving on those extra hard thrusts. He spread your legs out as wide as he could and held them there, fingers digging painfully into your skin.

Things became very clear to Ransom at that moment. You were underneath him, completely at his mercy since you were bound now. You were pouting, pretending that you didn’t like this, and he wanted to fuck that disobedience out of you. He sat back up, holding your hips as he kept steadily moving in and out of you. “I’m going to fuck your ass.”

You blinked once, twice. “What?”

He never pulled out, but he did lean over and start yanking on the drawers of one of the bedside tables.

“What are you doing?” No, he wasn’t going to actually…fuck you there. He’d never done it, he’d never even asked about it even though you brought it up a few times. He’d located your plugs that one time, he knew you were into it. But nothing. Why now?

“I know he has to have something,” he insisted.

“I don’t want to think about your parents like that.”

“Oh, no, just think of my dad like that,” he joked.

You shook your head. “Eww.”

“Oh, eww?” he checked. “Since when? You realize you can never talk about fucking him again, right? Looks like you’re going to have to provoke me in other ways now.”

“I didn’t mean ‘eww’ like that,” you claimed, “I meant ‘eww’ that your mom isn’t fucking him, and I definitely should be, because he totally deserves it for being such a great husband and father, but sadly, I’m here with you instead.”

“You’re such a fucking brat and—got it.” Ransom rarely moved fast, preferring to act like the cocky ass that he was, making it clear that he had all the time in the world to do whatever the hell he wanted. Because you were never going to say no. But now, he was acting like he was in a race.

Your body tensed up as soon as you felt the sharp cold against your skin. Ransom took his fingers and spread the gel over your skin, you gasped when you felt one of his fingers teasing your hole.

He did this a few more times, just making sure that you were properly prepped before his first finger dipped inside you. He set his free hand to your back when you tensed. “Relax,” he ordered. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you assured. You’d done this in the past, liked it, but it had been a long time since.

He started pumping his finger in and out and you began to squirm. You were trying to stay still and quiet, trying to hide how good he was making you feel, but he knew. When you pressed your hips back, he added his second finger and you winced.

His fingers already had you feeling so full. That was what you loved most about being with Ransom, you felt almost incomplete whenever he wasn’t in you. Your body was made to take his, to mold to him completely.

“Here’s how this is gonna go, baby,” he began. “You’re going to start sleeping in our bedroom again. Because I am the only man on this planet who can touch you like this and you’re going to stop being such a brat and taking that for granted.”

You scoffed. You were taking him for granted? Of course, every day you didn’t wake up on your knees for him was probably ‘taking him for granted’.

“Yes?”

You nodded, cheek pressed to the mattress. You didn’t care about winning anymore, you needed to be fucked. You lifted your head to look back at him. “Yeah.”

He pushed his third finger as slowly as he could.

You kept your attention on him, watching as his fingers disappeared inside your ass. As he moved his fingers back and forth, he started to tilt his hips. You were hyperaware of everything, you knew where his cock and fingers were, the wall between your two entrances was thin enough that you could feel it all.

He always thought of you as an insatiable, greedy little thing but even he was surprised when you said you wanted more. You wanted his cock, not his fingers, and he figured you were ready for it because you were soaking his length and the sheets.

As he positioned himself over you again, he pulled his cock out of your pussy and you whimpered. He brought his cock up and spread the fingers inside your asshole to open you up for him. You had never experienced Ransom gentler than when he pressed just the tip of his cock into you. You observed in awe, mouth dropped, panting, desperate, soaking. You knew when you were going to feel him, but you were not prepared at all. His cock was bigger than any plug you had used and you were aching.

He groaned when his fingers were out and all that he could feel was you squeezing the hell out of him. “Fuck. Think you can get on your knees for me?”

You nodded but made no moves to do so. He did instead, lifting your hips, and then grabbing your upper arms to keep you there. You pressed your hips down, swallowing more of his cock, whining and moaning at the painful stretch of him.

“Fuck yourself,” he told you.

You were shuddering, body screaming at the uncomfortable angles you were moving. You pushed your hips up until you felt the head of his cock and settled back down until it felt like it was too much, over and over until he knew that your muscles weren’t capable of continuing.

“Almost there,” he promised, lips at your ear. “Almost taking all of my cock, baby.” He let his hands slide down a little, toward your elbows for leverage, and then he started thrusting. He was careful not to go too deep, listening to the sounds you made because words were not your strong point when he was inside you.

You leaned over a bit, unable to hold yourself up completely. You were hovering over the pillows, his hold on you tight enough that you weren’t worried about falling forward. You were practically choking on a scream when one of his hands moved around you to your clit, immediately feeling lightheaded.

You folded over more and Ransom released your arm to grab your hair. Since you weren’t strong enough to hold yourself up completely, he was yanking on the roots of your hair. Your thighs were quivering because you were using them as your only source of balance, and all of that distracted from the painful stretch of his cock driving into you more and more each time.

Your pleasure was slowly climbing. By the time you were coming, your pussy was dripping onto the sheets, you were sweating, shuddering, gasping for air that you couldn’t seem to get enough of.

And he was only halfway inside you. He shoved two fingers into your cunt and used his grip on your hair to shove your face down on the mattress. All his weight pressed down on you until you were flat on the bed, trapping his arm between you and the mattress.

He left you with some space to work, you rode out your high by fucking yourself on his cock and fingers. You were drowning in the sensations, overwhelmingly full of a man that you knew would eventually drive you crazy.

When your body fell limp, he released your hair and grabbed your hip, guiding you to another devastating orgasm. “You still doing okay, baby?”

For a moment, you could only respond with a moan. His thumb brushed over your clit and you gasped. “Daddy, please, please, please—!”

“You think you deserve it, baby?”

“Please make me come,” you begged.

He waited until you were finishing around his fingers and finally, shoved his cock in completely.

You buried your face in the bed, screaming, sobbing, crying his name. He brought his hand from your hip to your hair, petting and shushing you, and that was all you ever needed from Ransom.

He gave you only seconds before his hips were rolling, his fingers pumping in and out of you, thumb rubbing your clit. He paid no mind to you, he simply used your body, no matter how much you were shuddering and shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

It was almost immediate that he pulled out after he finished and climbed off the bed to pull you with him. Your legs were shaking, but he held you tight to keep you up. He turned your back to him so he could watch his cum drip out of your ass.

When he turned you back to him, he gathered his cum from the inside of your thighs and ran his hand across your mouth. Fucked out, covered in him, you never looked more beautiful.

“This is your home,” he told you. “If you say it isn’t again, you won’t be able to walk for a very long time. Understood?”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m convinced yet.”

Ransom tossed you onto the bed like you weighed nothing and went to the door just to lock it. Was it weird that you thought you might get something out of Linda pounding on the door while her son was absolutely pounding you?

May: the anniversary,

It was Linda and Richard’s anniversary and that meant that everyone living in the house had to celebrate because the Thrombeys were starting to face withdrawals from not receiving enough attention from others.

Joni and Walt had decided to cook dinner that night and it surprisingly did not end in disaster. There were some presents, the family was trying their hand at online shopping and as the days ticked by, more and more packages were showing up every day.

The night was ending with a game of charades, something you and Ransom elected not to take part in beyond watching. The first team was Meg, Walt, and Richard. The second team was Joni, Linda, and Donna, and Jacob was the referee. They needed one, every single game because they were oddly competitive and whenever things got too aggressive, they were given a card, from green to red. Red meant disqualification, you’d only seen it happen twice in all these years, but it was great when it did happen.

You couldn’t help but watch Richard and Linda. They’d been married for so long now, so you didn’t understand why Richard had had his affair when he did. She wasn’t overly young, she had no money, it just didn’t make much sense to you.

You were on Ransom’s lap in the chair in the corner of the room. He had been drinking all night, so you chose not to. You guys were a better team when you were coordinating like that. He was always weird about his parents, you figured that was why he’d been off all day.

“Do you think you could ever forgive someone if they cheated on you?” he asked.

You turned to him, eyebrow arched. “I would murder you.”

He scoffed. “Come on, be serious.”

“I am being serious, Ransom.”

“If I were going to cheat on you, I would have already done it. I meant in a general sense.”

“I don’t think you love someone if you cheat on them,” you reasoned. “So, would I forgive? Maybe, I guess, whatever that even means. But would I stay? Hell no.”

“Right?”

“You talking about your parents?”

“It’s so weird, isn’t it? I mean, not really. Men are men and don’t they all eventually cheat?”

“You are playing with fire having this conversation with me.”

He scoffed. “I just don’t get it, why would she stay?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It seems like you all have your, like, comfortable environments. You don’t really want to leave them…at least she gave him that killer black eye.”

“Yeah,” he recalled with a small smile. “But…I don’t know, I don’t completely blame him, either.”

“Ransom,” you warned.

“No, I’m not saying it’s my mom’s fault, but…she doesn’t exactly love him either. Maybe he thought she used to.”

“Maybe she did.”

“Yeah, maybe…I don’t know, if you’re blackmailing someone essentially—”

“She’s not blackmailing him.”

“He has no money,” he insisted. “He’s terrified. She holds it over him constantly.”

“Ransom, right now, choose. Me or money?”

He turned to you. “No hesitation, I would choose you.”

You were almost surprised to hear that, you thought…you had always thought you were Ransom’s second love, honestly.

“What? Were you expecting something else?”

“I don’t know.” You didn’t want to make him think you thought so low of him. It was a pretty vile accusation.

“You do, that’s fine…because I do believe that if we didn’t have money, it would tear us apart.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” you argued.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You love your diamonds and this house. And I like spoiling the hell out of you… I know those are simple things, but to have to work for things? We couldn’t make it.”

“Well, he obviously wasn’t that scared, or he wouldn’t have cheated. That was my point. You’re acting like money is the most important thing, if it was, he wouldn’t have risked it.”

“True. I don’t know if I would be able to deal with it.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and laid your cheek against his. “Ransom, baby, you’re jealous of inanimate objects and you once fucked me every day for a week and didn’t let me come because you thought I was talking to my ex.”

“It depends how it started, that’s all I’m saying. People aren’t perfect, you know.”

“I am,” you declared.

He scoffed. “You let me fuck you while you were dating that ex.”

“You coerced me,” you argued. “I was innocently in my own room and you just showed up—”

“So, you’re saying I seduced you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Can we go to bed? I don’t think there are going to be any fistfights tonight.”

“I’m sorry, baby, I know you were looking forward to that.”

“A bit,” you admitted.

“I’ll tell you about the time my mom tackled Joni at my high school graduation.”

You gasped. “I love when you tell me stories.”

Ultimately, things had gone back to normal with you and Ransom. He was sleeping with you more nights than not, he was in his office much less, things seemed to be in a much better place.

June: the affair,

Until June rolled around.

Then all his office shit started up again, the late nights, the insane number of hours. You tried to be understanding, but then he was abandoning you at family dinners and there was the time some moron rear-ended you and you had to call Walt because Joni and Meg weren’t picking up their phones because it was five in the morning, and Ransom wasn’t either because Ransom wasn’t a reliable boyfriend.

He had been apologetic, and you were just relieved that it had been an overall easy situation, so you didn’t hold it against him. Not until you had to borrow his phone to call yours because you had once again misplaced it. You were, once upon a time, a very organized, together person. Then the Thrombeys moved into your home.

You saw dating apps. Dating apps! On his fucking phone. You had no idea how to react, so you just didn’t. You made the mistake of letting everything grow, everything just pile on top of one another until you were at your breaking point.

Linda liked to poke at you and normally, she couldn’t. Because normally, Ransom was around. Because Ransom knew how his mother was and he knew how you were, and he just didn’t want anyone to end up dead.

That changed one morning when you were making pancakes and she came in for her early morning coffee. She asked where Ransom was and that was really the start of it because she did know. She found it hilarious that Ransom had his own office and never let anyone else in. She hated that she wasn’t allowed in but was placated that you weren’t either.

But you told her where he was anyway because you were attempting to be civil. She pointed out how much time he was spending in his office and you pretended it was common, she then asserted that that was how Richard was behaving during his affair.

And honestly, why hadn’t you thought of it before? He had to be having an affair, you always heard him typing in his office. He was clearly on some website, probably some BDSM chatroom, and you were going to fucking kill him.

It all made sense now, last month when he’d asked you if you would forgive cheating. That was just Ransom being Ransom, he was trying to guess your reaction if you ever found out. Well, you hadn’t been exaggerating, you would kill him.

You stormed up to the office and started pounding on the door. The rest of the family was going to hear you, but they were smart enough to know they better just mind their own business in their rooms.

“Ransom!” you yelled after minutes of no answer. Again, you were met with silence and that was when your irritation became fury. “Ransom, I will kick this fucking door down! You know these doors are old and weak and I can do it!”

Long story short, the doors were stronger than you thought, and you could not do it. The low point of your life was probably having to crawl to Meg’s room and ask her to call their super-expensive home doctor because you had done something terrible to your foot.

Ransom showed up three hours later after you had been all wrapped up and the family was fawning over you. You were being forced to sit on the couch and they would not stop asking you if they could get things for you. You were already wearing three different crystals, Walt had made you hot chocolate, and Jacob was checking his horror movie collection for your favorites.

“What the hell happened?” Ransom demanded.

You glared at him. “Where were you?”

“I was out for a walk.”

“And you didn’t take your phone?” Richard pressed. “We were calling you non-stop.”

“I left it up in my office,” he informed, moving to your side. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“She tried to kick down your office door,” Linda answered.

Ransom gave you an incredulous look. “I’m sorry?”

“You should be,” you retorted. You never argued in front of the family because you and Ransom were a team. Yes, you fought, but you never wanted to give the family insight on the cracks in your relationship because you knew they would exploit them.

“Enough,” Meg cut in. “No arguing, Dr. Fields told her to take it easy.”

“You had to call the doctor?” he questioned. “What did you do?”

“Fracture,” Linda informed, “Not that big of a deal. Please, continue arguing.”

Everyone else glared at her while you and Ransom glared at one another. It was then that Jacob reappeared with one of the Saw movies. Typically.

August: the book,

You had taken to sleeping in Meg’s room with her because Ransom was a demon, but he wouldn’t try to enter her room. Ever. So, you comfortably stashed yourself away there every night and stayed there most mornings until noon. She didn’t mind. You’d gotten her a tv in there, so you watched Netflix a lot.

You had yet to confront Ransom with your accusations because you were scared. This family was obscene, being part of it was insane, every single person here was terrible in their own right. But you liked talking to Meg, you liked gardening with Joni, you liked reading the newspaper with Walt in the mornings and talking about the crime section. Even Jacob wasn’t the worst company, he liked to watch Dateline with you.

Ransom was convinced that you were just mad at him because you fractured your toes and couldn’t do yoga for a while. You were fine with him believing that because then you would have to have the conversation.

It was an odd situation to be in. You were sure he hadn’t physically done anything, but you weren’t sure if that should make you feel better or worse. He was connecting with someone and after your conversation, it was clear that he also believed you couldn’t cheat on someone you love. Given that he’d never said he loved you, you were rightfully concerned.

Did he ever love you?

Did you just spend almost 7 years with someone who was never going to feel that way about you? Did you throw away all those opportunities with someone else? Did you stupidly choose Ransom over your family?

Did you let this happen?

You had said you couldn’t forgive it, but now you understood why Linda did. If you love someone, you just don’t want to lose them. You hope that they don’t betray you, but what about when they do? It’s not easy to just leave.

You still loved Ransom, you always would. You didn’t want to lose any of the relationships you formed with the family, but it was different with Ransom. You didn’t want to, obviously, but you also couldn’t. You couldn’t imagine a life without him, you couldn’t imagine moving on, you couldn’t imagine being with someone else.

What did that mean?

You weren’t sure about the long-term answer, but short-term, it meant that you were going to pretend. He wasn’t cheating, he didn’t have dating apps on his phone, he didn’t even have an office as far as you were concerned.

Nothing. Everything was perfect.

Until Jacob’s birthday. You weren’t aware of it before, but unsurprisingly, he was a fucking Leo. You made a mental note to investigate the astrology of certain serial killers Jacob reminded you of, but you would do that with Meg later.

You were helping Walt and Joni cook this time. Apparently, they were the only Thrombeys that knew how to cook and were pleased to have another addition to the small team. It wasn’t a particularly difficult meal, lasagna with garlic bread, but it was Jacob’s favorite.

The plans had been made the week prior, Ransom was going to do one thing for you. Just one, you asked for so little. He would pick up the cake at noon and hide it in the second kitchen. Hide because Jacob wasn’t aware this was happening. He didn’t like to be the center of attention and if he knew this was happening before it was actually happening, he would do anything he could to stop it.

But come 2 PM, three hours after the cake was set to be picked up, you received a call from the bakery. You had let them know that your boyfriend was going to pick it up and you left his name with them and everything, all Ransom needed to do was show up.

The woman on the phone informed you that that didn’t happen, and they were about to close because of pandemic hours. You promised you would be in before she needed to shut the doors and since you were comfortable with your window of time, this was done. Over. First, you were going to yell at Ransom.

You quietly made your way to his office and listened with your ear pressed to the door. You didn’t make a sound until you heard him typing, then you started banging on the door with both hands.

It was seconds later that he answered the door, a confused look on his face over your apparent urgency. He looked like he’d pulled an all-nighter and smelled like a lot of alcohol. “What?”

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

“What? What do you need?”

You tried to open the door, but he held it in place.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You were getting into that office because you were going to find out what he was doing, he was not going to continue to lie to you. You kicked his shin and when his leg buckled, you shoved your way in.

“Hey!” He hurriedly shut the door behind you. He did not want anyone else getting in.

It looked like a normal office. There was a full bookshelf of titles that you couldn’t read because your anger was blurring your vision, there was a desk, a laptop, chairs, a bar cart, not a thing out of the ordinary. What the fuck was he doing in here all day?

There was only one logical answer. You finally turned to him, hands on your hips. “Who is she, Ransom?”

“What?”

“I know you’ve been cheating on me and I’m not going to play this game with you! I just want to know who the fuck she is!”

“Are you out of your mind?!”

“Yes, I’m out of my fucking mind! I’ve been living with your psychotic family since March, dealing with their shit on top of yours, and you are now cheating on me! Please explain to me how anyone else wouldn’t also be out of their mind!”

“I’m not cheating on you!”

“Really?! Then what the fuck are you always doing up here?”

He paused at that.

The camel’s back broke. This was officially over. You turned around and rushed to his computer. He only took a second before he realized what you were doing and followed you there.

“I swear to everything above, if you are in some pathetic chatroom—”

He leaned over you just as you reached for the laptop and slammed it shut. “I’m not cheating on you!”

“Then let me see your fucking laptop!” You didn’t care that he had his hands planted on it, you still grabbed the opposite ends and tried to pull it out from under him. It wasn’t a logical plan since he was much stronger than you, but you weren’t necessarily operating on logic.

“You are crazy,” he asserted.

You moved your hands to the top edge of the laptop and threw your entire body back into Ransom. More than anything, it probably shocked him into moving back. Had you known that it was going to work, you probably would have been better about keeping your footing. Since that wasn’t the case, you both ended up on the floor and for a split second, the laptop was only in your hands.

You dove forward, just inches from the door.

Ransom rushed after you, grabbing your leg to pull you back down.

You knew he was going to get you under him, you wrapped your arms tight around the laptop and started screaming. Joni or Richard might feel inclined to call the police if they thought the two of you were honestly fighting.

Ransom slammed his hand down on your mouth as he crawled over you, knees pressed to your hips to keep you pinned there. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”

You didn’t say a word and you didn’t let your hold on the laptop waver for even a second.

“If I move my hand, you better not scream again,” he warned.

Obviously, you were going to. As soon you could, you yelled, “Call the police, he’s going to kill—!”

Ransom covered your mouth again, eyes wide at you. “You have lost it!”

It was then that you realized you needed to do something. He had the upper hand, and he was going to get the laptop away from you if you did nothing. You started swiping at him with both elbows and knees, never catching anything, but making him nervous enough to back off a little.

Fuck it, he was done trying to be reasonable with you. He moved his hand again, but only to start fighting with you over the laptop again.

“Let it go!” you shrieked.

“You let it go!” he countered. “It’s mine!”

“Not anymore, cheater!”

“I’m not fucking cheating on you!”

“If you have some online BDSM girlfriend, I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“What? What the hell goes through your mind!?”

“You’re constantly in here and you won’t let me in, and you never tell me what you’re doing, you never tell anyone else either—”

“Because I hate my family,” he reminded.

“And clearly, you hate me!”

“I don’t hate you, you’re being childish.”

“Tell me her name, Ransom, or so help me—”

“I’m not cheating!”

“I saw the dating apps on your god damn phone!”

“I am not cheating!”

“Then what are you doing?!”

“I’m writing a book!” he hissed.

You froze. He was what?

He kept his voice quiet, “That’s where I was a couple months ago, the meeting that I told you was none of your business. I only had a few chapters, but I got a deal out of it—”

“Get off me.”

He blinked in surprise and then hurried to do so, helping you up, no longer interested in stealing away the laptop.

You held onto it because you weren’t yet sure if you were going to use it to cause severe bodily harm to him. He was writing a book and didn’t tell you? You didn’t know he was interested in writing at all. You didn’t know he could sit down and write more than one entire sentence. He was always moving around, throwing himself into mindless activities.

A book?

You were hurt. Getting a book deal was major and he didn’t tell you he was trying for it, but then he didn’t even tell you that he’d gotten it. He had this huge thing in his life that he kept separate from you and that hurt your feelings.

“That’s was the apps were,” he explained. “I was doing research. Honestly, I’ll let you see the profiles, they’re not even pictures of me. I haven’t spoken to anyone either, it’s just very basic—”

You held the laptop out to him.

He slowly took it back from you, preparing for any other extreme reaction you might have. What he wasn’t expecting was complete silence, he figured you must have been confused by this. It was rather sudden, even for him. “You going to say something?”

You debated for a long while. You wanted to ask why he was pushing you away. You wanted to ask if it was because he didn’t think you were supportive, if he just didn’t want you to know, then you wanted to know why that was. What had you ever done that made him think he couldn’t tell you about this?

“I have to go get Jacob’s cake.”

“Shit!” He ran his hand down his face. “I completely forgot—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Then you were rushing out, ignoring the curious looks from the family on the way.

October: Ransom’s birthday,

It had been seven weeks since you found out about the book and seven weeks since you last had an actual conversation with Ransom. That was your doing purely, and he made the attempts, but you ignored them.

Linda was thrilled. This was different than when you and Ransom were fighting, because fighting indicated that you had the desire to win, he had the desire to win, but then that meant a resolution would follow. If you were ignoring him, what did you want? She hoped it was the end of the road for the two of you.

You weren’t sure. About anything. But you just had to go day by day and listen to yourself. Up to now, you weren’t sure what you wanted to do. As time went on and you were left to wallow in your hurt feelings, you were wondering if maybe this was the end.

Seven years and he didn’t tell you he was writing a book? That was insane, that was inexcusable. You didn’t get to have any part of your life not completely exposed to Ransom and you were okay with that. Obviously, he didn’t feel the same.

Seven years, a nearly dead modeling career, no skills, no aim in life. You had no idea how you would start all over. You had no idea how you would live your life without being Ransom’s girlfriend. It was practically a title, like the queen, and you loved it. You loved him.

But he didn’t tell you about the book! How could you get over that? Well, you could talk to him, but you were not going to do that. You just weren’t ready because you would want to know why and all the answers that were playing out in your mind were not going to make you feel better.

It didn’t matter, or more correctly, it couldn’t matter. Ransom’s birthday was coming up and Linda was trying to fight you on everything.

It was October, the worst of the pandemic was over, wasn’t it? No, you didn’t think so and anyone with two solid IQ points wouldn’t either. She wanted some family over, some of his friends—Megan, you had heard her mention to Richard. You didn’t want a single person in your house, no one outside of the family.

She suggested going to a restaurant then, but you knew Ransom hated when they threw him parties like that.

She wanted him to have a red velvet cake and you knew that Ransom hated red velvet. He preferred lemon, but he told you that you were never allowed to get him a lemon cake because he would eat it all. He was fine with chocolate, didn’t hate it, didn’t love it.

If you weren’t going out, then she wanted catering from his favorite restaurant, and a minimum of 30 people over, the house was big enough for it. It wasn’t even his favorite restaurant, the one she wouldn’t stop talking about, you knew for a fact Ransom did not like 30 people, and the house was not big enough for it.

On top of all of that, she kept asking you what you were going to get him. She just didn’t want to get the same thing. Why would that happen? Why would she get him the same thing as you? You had no idea, but she insisted on knowing. Problem was, you didn’t have an answer to give her. You had no idea what you were going to get Ransom.

Three days before his birthday, Ransom found you on the floor of the kitchen with an icepack pressed to your forehead. It was three in the morning, you had most of the lights off, only your phone and laptop providing light. Even in the dim kitchen, he could tell that you had been crying, eyes puffy and red, tear tracks down your cheeks.

He had been in his office, more writing. He’d only come down for a glass of water, sure that no one else would be awake at such an odd hour. This was the first time in a long time that he had seen you alone, and this naked. Usually, you were surrounded by the family, Joni being the greatest culprit. And since you still weren’t sleeping in the bedroom, he hadn’t seen you in your tiny shorts and bralettes.

He sat down at your side, setting his hand on your thigh. “Hey, is everything okay?”

You tossed the icepack onto the floor. “I never got stress headaches before your family moved in.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.”

It was silent for several moments after that, you were thinking about how you wanted to approach this topic. It was clear now, in your mind, why he hadn’t told you about the book. “I never listen to you.”

He turned to you, eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

You were already crying again, tears rolling down your face. You had felt terrible these past few weeks and you were finally beginning to understand why. “I don’t listen, I’m a terrible listener.”

“No,” he protested. “You’re not a terrible listener—”

“I have no idea what to get you for your birthday. I never know, I never get you a good present.”

“Yes, you do,” he argued. “And you don’t need to get me anything—”

“Of course, I do!” you blurted out. Was he insane? This was his birthday, you couldn’t not get him something for his birthday. “This is why you didn’t tell me about the book, right?”

His eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Because I don’t listen,” you explained. “Why would you tell me about it if I wasn’t even going to listen, right?”

“Baby,” he sighed, “That’s not why I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t trying to keep it from you, honestly—”

“You didn’t tell me you were writing, you didn’t tell me you were trying to get published, and then you didn’t tell me about the book deal.”

“I know…I was going to.”

“But?” you prompted. “How could you not tell me about any of it?”

“I was worried.”

“Why?”

“Because of fucking Harlan. He’s the world’s best mystery author, for whatever fucking reason. I was worried that you wouldn’t think I should do this. I was worried about how it would look. I don’t want to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps like the rest of my pathetic family.”

“So, were you just never going to say anything about it?”

“Well…maybe. There’s something else… I wasn’t sure I was going to use my name, so it was completely possible that I could keep you from ever finding out about them. And if you ever got suspicious, maybe publish a few of the others under my real name.”

“Others? What are you talking about?”

“So…my book deal is for, at the very least, three books. In a series. If they do well, I can do others, with the possibility of keeping this series going…whenever I feel inspired to do so.”

“Okay…what’s the series about?”

“A woman.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“A very mean woman,” he clarified. “She’s a black widow, you know, marries rich men, murders them, takes the money…and I’ve sort of been using your name.”

Your eyebrows slowly rose. “You’ve been writing about me?”

“No,” he immediately protested, then sighed. “Okay, a little, but she’s beautiful. I mention that a lot, I promise.”

Yes, you were relieved. But was he completely off the hook? You slapped his shoulder. “Are you serious?”

“Hey,” he held his hand to the skin that you had just smacked. “Ow, maybe don’t hit me just days away from my birthday if you didn’t get me anything.”

“God, Ransom, I was really hurt.”

“I’m sorry about that. Really, I know I rarely ever apologize and sometimes, I don’t mean it, but I mean it now.”

“Well, can I read some of it?”

He smirked. “I don’t know, baby girl, you haven’t been behaving lately. You tried to break into my office, hurt yourself, and then did break into my office to steal my laptop. You thought I was cheating on you.”

“I saw dating apps, Ransom.”

“After we talked about my parents—”

“You lock yourself in your office for, like, 20 hours at a time—”

“And some BDSM chatroom? Because you’re normal in bed?”

You rolled your eyes. “Look, I’m sorry for accusing you of cheating, but you should have told me about the book. Which you apologized for, so it just cancels out. Let’s do what we usually do and just pretend it never happened.”

“You told Joni to call the cops,” he reminded.

You shrugged. “I miss Wagner, he probably would have been over here immediately.”

He snorted. “Okay, we both made mistakes, but you’re right.”

With his agreement to move on, you climbed onto his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Please?”

“I’m not completely convinced yet,” he teased.

Rolling your eyes, you kissed him. “Now?”

“You’re getting closer.”

You scoffed and kissed him again, reaching into his sweatpants to pull out his cock. It didn’t take long to get him hard and as soon as you did, you used your other hand to pull your shorts aside. You broke away from the kiss to watch his face as you slowly slid down his length.

His hands gripped your hips and he nodded. “Yeah, you can have whatever you want.”

You smiled. “Perfect, let’s get it now.”

He snorted. “Wow, now you’re a fucking comedian?”

“Well, you’re an author,” you retorted.

He nodded once. “You have a point. I vaguely remember what I wrote, want me to tell you?”

You nodded. You wanted to hear it in his voice, you were going to demand that he read it to you anyway.

“Her first husband was a writer,” he informed.

You lifted your eyebrows. Was that supposed to be clever?

“He often wrote poetry about how devastatingly beautiful he found her.”

You rolled your eyes a little, turning down to stare at his chest. He was wearing a shirt, but you could still see the muscles through the white material. “How did she kill him?”

“Scared him to death, she is very scary.”

You bit your cheek to prevent a smile.

“His fault, though. He was never healthy, did a few drugs he shouldn’t have. Drank too much, never ate right. He had a weak heart anyway.”

You hummed.

He wrapped his arm around your back and rolled you over onto the floor underneath him. He pulled your thighs apart before placing both hands on the floor for balance. Slowly, he pulled out and drove back in hard.

You gasped his name, arms winding tightly around his torso.

“He loves her skin,” he asserted.

You nodded encouragingly, you wanted him to tell you everything. “Mhm.”

“Loves how soft she is, especially her thighs, and he loves how she bruises.” He was steadily rocking his hips, speaking just loud enough that you could hear him over the wet noises of his cock sliding in and out of your body, but quiet enough that you were sure no one else would hear.

You reminded yourself you were downstairs, on the kitchen floor, it was important to remain quiet. Ransom’s family had caught you in a lot of low moments over the years, but this would take the cake. You turned your head, burying your face in the bend of his neck.

“He loves her neck, how perfectly it fits in his hands. He loves her lips, how they look wrapped around him, or when she’s smiling—”

“You wrote that?” you breathed.

“This isn’t some school-book-report shit like what Harlan was publishing.”

“Those weren’t children’s books,” you felt inclined to point out.

“Well, mine have sex.”

You snorted. “You’re going to write about other men fucking me?”

“A woman here and there,” he explained. “That’s why they have to die such horrible deaths.”

You laughed briefly, pressing your mouth to his shoulder when you worried you would moan.

“He loves her legs, how tightly they wrap around him.” As he spoke, he lifted your legs one at a time, pressing them to the sides of his body as a cue to hook your ankles together. “He loves her arms, how easily he can pin them above her head.” Again, he did just that and you were forced to lay flat on the floor, clamping your mouth shut to stifle the noises spilling out.

After managing to get both wrists in one hand, he placed his opposite forearm off to your side and set all his weight there. You could feel it in the way he got heavier against your hips, trapping you between him and the floor, controlling every aspect of how he was going to make you come.

He stared down at your face for a moment, watching you struggle to keep your composure as he was fucking into you harder now. He leaned down and your eyes fell shut, he kissed over both eyelids and said, “He loves her eyes, even when she’s looking up at him, demanding something, a new diamond necklace, a car, but won’t actually say the words because she’s so fucking spoiled.”

You smirked and he felt it, and his hips snapped up harshly to get it to stop. It only worked for a moment. You were smug, Ransom was pouring his heart out to you and confessed that he liked that you were spoiled? You would never let him live this down.

“He loves her cheeks,” he started kissing across your face and you couldn’t help but smile, “Especially when she’s doing that.” He stopped to pay special attention to your nose, “And he loves her nose, even though she hates it. And he loves when she pouts,” he lowered his mouth to give you several chaste pecks, until you were pouting because he wouldn’t just kiss you.

With a scoff, he finally let you kiss him back. It didn’t last long before he was on the move again, pressing his lips to your chin and proclaiming the fictional character’s love of that, then your jaw, your clavicle, and once he tore your bralette out of the way, your breasts.

As he continued to move down, he was sliding his cock out by the inch and you were trying to stop him from getting too far, you were desperately pulling at him with your legs, but Ransom was much stronger than you.

“He loves her stomach,” he muttered into your skin as he descended and finally, his cock slipped out. Because of that, he had to let your wrists go but you knew better than to try to move them.

“Ransom, please—”

“And he loves her hips.” As he pulled down your shorts, he kissed the skin he exposed, almost frantically alternating between left and right. Once the shorts were down, he spread your thighs and looked up at you. “And he fucking loves her pussy.”

You let out a strangled, high-pitched sound as he dove down and wrapped his lips around your clit. He stared at you the entire time as he sucked for a few seconds, then flicked his tongue back and forth, only to repeat the pattern until you were crying and squirming, staying in the position he had placed you in.

When he knew you were close, he pulled back. He only set small kisses to your aching center, hands moving up and down your hips, your stomach, your thighs. “He loves how sweet it tastes, he loves how fucking tight it is, how it feels like his cock was made to be inside it—”

“Ransom, please,” you blurted out. Your arms were stinging with the desire to reach down for him, but you knew that would change the path of this entire night. You just needed to be fucked. Simply. Intimately. None of the elaborate shit you both usually tried.

In seconds, he had made his way over you and was inside you again. You wrapped yourself around him, arms and legs, and held onto him tight enough that you were sure he wouldn’t be able to get away again.

“He loves every fucking inch of her,” he stated. “Because she’s his, she belongs to him and she’s never going to belong to anyone else.”

You scoffed. “But she kills him?”

“Well, she’s a complex woman.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not complex.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“I just want you and this house, and I want all of this shit to be over so we can get rid of your family.”

He kissed you shortly. “That makes two of us, baby.”

There was a difference between loving something about someone and truly being in love with someone. You’d always loved things about Ransom, but it took you about a solid year to confidently admit that you were in love with him. He could say that he loved everything about you, but that was not him finally saying it.

“Does she love him?” you wondered.

He shrugged a shoulder. “He thinks so.”

“Does he love her?” This wasn’t asking for too much. Ransom could hide behind this fictional creation of his and say yes, and you would never ask again. You just wanted to hear it once, that wasn’t unfair.

He considered his answer for a long time, breaking eye contact to look down at where his fingers were hovering over your shoulder. He began to trace shapes there, still contemplating. “Sometimes…she thinks so.”

“But does he?” you pressed.

Again, more silence. He was trying to gauge what he could get away with. He always knew this was going to wear on you eventually, but he never thought it was going to be during one of the times he was inside you. How could you not feel how he felt about you? “I think—”

“Are you fucking serious!?”

You immediately knew whose voice that was—Linda. Shutting your eyes, you let your head rest back on the floor. The headache you had been crying over earlier was returning.

“RICHARD!” She turned out of the kitchen and began storming back to her room. “Richard, wake up! You need to talk to your son! Is there no place in this house anymore that is sacred?!”

Ransom sighed deeply and you looked up at him. “Well, do you want to make you come first before we go upstairs?”

You shrugged. “Okay. Hurry up, we don’t have to be quiet anymore.”

November: thanksgiving,

Ransom was on his best behavior, you theorized that was because he didn’t want you to again ask him for more of that insane basic human emotion. Whatever, you could not dwell. There were people dying in this world, and you wanted to waste time crying over your boyfriend who gave you everything you wanted, but just wouldn’t say a certain word to you?

Well, the answer was yes, but it was Thanksgiving and the Thrombeys had about a million and one weird-ass family traditions. That meant you were short on time to be pouting.

It was a freezing, perfect day. It had snowed all night and the house looked like something straight out of a Hallmark movie. Yes, this was going to be a complicated day with a lot of personalities that were butting heads because everyone had been together for way too long, but you were feeling festive. You wanted to make the best of the day and you planned to force the rest of the family to follow your lead.

The start of the traditions was donating money. You were the one who brought it up as soon as Richard tried to skip down the list. It always started with donating. Harlan would write checks for half a million dollars and let every member choose where they wanted to donate, the past three years you were included in that. Harlan always liked you, probably more than he liked some of his actual family.

“I’m just not sure,” Donna was saying, “We haven’t made much money this year.”

“Are you kidding?” Meg demanded. “Your husband’s publishing company is still seeing sale increases.”

“Because of the death of the author,” Linda pointed out. “Meaning, we should be a lot more frugal. The money will not be coming in the same way that it was.”

“This is not up for debate,” you snapped. “Everyone pick a god damn charity. Harlan insisted on this every single year, and we are going to continue it. Unless you all would like to provoke his ghost to come murder us. He died in this house after all!”

“It’s money,” Ransom pointed out. “We have more than enough, some people don’t have any.”

Linda rolled her eyes. “My son is just trying to get you to have sex with him.”

You glared.

“Mother,” Ransom sighed. “This isn’t a discussion. Just pick your damn charity.”

“Donna, it’s fine,” Walt promised. “Meg’s right, we’ve had a great year. And Y/N is right, Dad always wanted us to do this. I will start with my usual charity, Homes for Our Troops.”

“Fantastic.” You took the check as soon as he handed it over. “Donna?”

“American Cancer Society, of course.” She held it out for you and then looked to Jacob. “I think this year—”

“I have a charity picked,” Jacob informed.

Everyone fell silent. Likely, everyone’s immediate suspicion was Trump’s request for donations since he was still insisting the election was fraudulent. However, no one said anything because no one wanted to be the first victim of Jacob’s impending murder spree.

“Can’t I pick my own?” he pressed.

“Yes,” you answered. “You can, because everyone can pick their own charity.”

“Yeah,” Walt echoed. “Of course.”

He wrote the name down and slid the check across the table to you.

Ransom’s hand tightened on your thigh, a reminder not to let anyone antagonize you this holiday.

“Canines for Disabled Kids,” you read. “Jacob, that’s really great…I didn’t even know that was a charity.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, I like the idea that they can have dogs as friends and don’t have to make human friends. Humans are so stupid.” Then he returned all his attention to his phone.

“And we’re back,” Richard muttered.

Donna’s head snapped in his direction.

“Okay,” you interjected. “Joni?”

She chose a foundation interested in ending childhood obesity, received a snide comment from Meg about how even her acts of kindness were vain, and you intervened before it became bigger than that. Meg chose an organization that works to stop childhood prostitution, Linda went for homeless youth, and Richard selected Make-A-Wish Foundation. Walt felt the need to sarcastically commend him for his originality.

“Enough,” you said before Richard could respond. “My dearest Ransom, what have you chosen?”

He smiled at you. “Animal Legal Defense Fund. Their tagline is: all our clients are innocent.”

You nodded. “They are. All animals are innocent.”

Linda rolled her eyes. “Can we move on?”

“Okay, mine is—”

“I can’t believe you don’t have a problem that she’s basically brainwashing our son,” Linda interrupted, turning to Richard.

“Linda, please,” Richard sighed.

“My charity,” you spoke loudly, gaining their attention once more, “Is Planned Parenthood.”

“Are you out of your mind?” she demanded. “You want to donate your money to abortions?”

You glared. “That’s not all Planned Parenthood does, but…yes, I do. Babies suck, if a woman doesn’t want to have it, she doesn’t have to.”

Joni nodded. “I agree, completely. I’ve been learning in my group about how we are only placed on this earth to offer up our vibrations to one another. Our obligations do not exceed that. We don’t have to be anything! Not a mother, not a wife—”

“Oh, shut up!” Linda barked.

“Mother, calm down,” Ransom dismissed. “I don’t believe for a second any of you have not either had an abortion or been an accessory to one in the past.”

“I would never!” she gasped, pointing a finger at him. “And you better not ever let her!”

“Yeah, don’t worry about that happening. I’ve been thinking about eliminating that possibility, surgically—”

Linda’s mouth dropped.

This was, of course, untrue. Ransom would, first, never sacrifice any part of himself for that reason. Second, the matter had not been discussed yet. You guys weren’t even thinking about marriage, so of course, children weren’t being brought up. But that morning, Ransom woke up in the mood for chaos, and maybe you sort of did, too.

“I wanted a second child,” she told Richard, “You said to stop after Ransom because he was “perfect”.”

“I did say that,” he muttered to himself, a look of pure regret on his face.

You smiled at Ransom. “You are perfect.”

He kissed you, gaining disapproving noises from most of the table.

“I will never be a grandmother!” Linda yelled, burying her hands in her hair and resting her shoulders on the table.

You glanced at Ransom.

He nodded toward the kitchen. “Now that that’s done, let’s start cooking.”

Joni and Meg were currently searching the entire house for the Christmas decorations. They always ended up getting put in the strangest places and since you and Ransom had moved in and not known where they were, you moved basically everything. It was possible that you were going to have to make do with the decorations you and Ransom had been using for the past five years at his house.

You had, however, purchased a lot of lights because the Thrombeys loved their blue lights. Tacky, you wanted the yellow lights and made sure to buy enough that even a single blue light needed to be on that house. Ransom was excitedly awaiting his mother’s reaction to that.

Every year, Richard and Walt would put lights on the house while the dinner was cooking. Ransom should have helped but no one actually thought Ransom would lift a finger, so no one wasted their breath. He was only helping you cook because, as mentioned, he was pretending to be a good boyfriend.

But he was a monster, a true monster that was currently squashing even more of your dreams. “The answer isn’t just no, it’s fuck no.”

You glared. “I wasn’t asking for permission.”

“You asked if it was a good idea.”

“I think it is.”

“Then why did you ask me at all?”

“Because I thought you would be nice for a second, just a second, Ransom. I’m not asking for a lot.”

“We are not getting Jacob a dog.”

“Why not?”

“Because I hate dogs.”

“Well, I hate you,” you hissed.

He rolled his eyes. “Enough of the dramatics. This day is tiring enough already—”

“We’ll get him a small one, it doesn’t need to be those huge horses your mother calls dogs. A chihuahua, maybe. A Pomeranian, a dachshund—”

“Absolutely not, we already have Joni here, I don’t want some yappy animal—”

“Ransom!” you whined. “If we get him a dog, he might not become a serial killer.”

“He already is a serial killer, love, these are just the early years when he’s finding himself. The answer is still no.”

“Ugh, fine, can you just make the pie crusts, please?”

“How many?”

“Three.”

“Three? For what?”

“Pumpkin, apple, pecan, Ransom. The same things your family has served every single year I’ve been here, and presumably, all the ones before that.”

“Ugh.” He stood at the counter reading the recipe, muttering his disapproval, up until he saw the ingredients on the counter. “What is all of this?”

“Um, you know that recipe in your hand? The final product doesn’t just appear.”

“No, what is all of this…gluten-free flour, oat flour? Where’s the normal flour?”

“That is normal flour, Ransom.”

“No,” he argued. “No, it’s not.”

“It’s normal to some people,” you countered. “And this year, it’s normal to us. Joni went out and bought the groceries. If you wanted something, you could have done it yourself.”

“You wouldn’t let me leave the house! You kept saying I was going to get sick and die.”

“You could have ordered them!”

“You can’t be serious. On top of this dreadful year, you’re trying to make us eat healthy food on Thanksgiving?”

“Ransom, make the pie crusts!”

It was silent for several minutes, probably because you were using the mixer to make the pumpkin filling. As soon as it was off, Ransom was acting like you’d asked him to perform surgery.

“What does toss mean?”

“What?”

“It says to toss the ingredients.”

“Um, like, stir, I guess.”

“You guess or you know?”

“Just fucking stir, Ransom. I make pies all the time.”

He huffed. “No, oh, no. No, this is telling me to touch things with my hands, that’s disgusting and I’m not doing that.”

You turned back, eyes wide. “Ransom!”

“I’m not touching butter with my hands!”

“What is wrong with you!? It’s cooking, you have to use your hands to cook!”

“I don’t like touching butter!”

“How would you know? You’ve never cooked a day in your life!”

“I’m not touching it,” he claimed.

You took a slow breath in and released it while counting to ten. “Then switch with me and make the apple pie filling.”

“Great.” He walked to your counter as you walked to his. “What is this? What’s in this bowl?”

“The pumpkin pie filling. Cover it and put it in the refrigerator. That’s where the apples are.”

His next question came after he pulled out the bag of apples. “These?”

You turned back, blinking. “Yes, Ransom, those are apples.”

“I have to cut them?”

“And peel them.”

“That’s going to take forever.”

“Ransom, I’m about to smack you.”

“This is a lot!” he pointed out. “Why are we the only people cooking?”

“We’re not, not anymore,” you decided. “Get out, you can go help your father and Walt with the Christmas lights.”

“And you’re going to cook alone?”

“I basically already am.” You turned around to walk to the sink to wash your hands. Unlike Ransom, you weren’t making one pie crust at a time, and you would only need to do this once. When you turned around, you knew Ransom was behind you, but you had no idea what he was doing.

You only saw how close he was when you felt something wet and cold against the side of your face. Whatever it was, he dragged it all the way to the opposite cheek. You smelled and tasted the frosting that you had made for the sugar cookies.

He peeled the frosted star-shaped cookie off your skin and ate one of the corners. “Your blood-sugar seemed low, I thought I’d help.”

You tore the cookie out of his hand and shoved it directly in his face.

He scattered back, eyes wide in shock—as if he expected anything less? “What is wrong with you?!”

You grabbed the retractable faucet from the sink and turned the water on.

“Do not!”

It was a warning you ignored. Within seconds, he was slipping along the kitchen floor, rushing back to you to get the faucet out of your hands. As soon as he had it, he turned it on you, and you screamed like a cat about to be thrown in a bathtub.

“Stop it!” you ordered. “You are ruining Thanksgiving!”

“You’re ruining it!”

You elbowed him hard enough that he dropped the faucet, then kicked your heels off to run to the counter with the cookies and frosting.

“Don’t you dare!” He rushed after you and wrestled the cookie out of your hand, ultimately crushing it into crumbs that scattered all over the counter and the floor.

You shoved your opposite hand into one of the bowls of frosting, whipping around to place your hand on his face.

“What the fuck?!” But he leaned down, clearly uninterested in an answer, and pressed his face into your hair.

“My hair?!” you shrieked. “I’m going to kill you!”

There were several sets of steps that you both heard, but neither of you wanted to let the other get the upper hand. When the family finally found you, you had slipped, ended up on your ass, and Ransom was holding you down, claiming that you caused too many problems when you were on your feet.

“What the hell is going on?!” Joni questioned.

“Ransom, get off of her!” Meg pushed her way between the two of you, pulling you onto your feet. “Oh, my god, what is going on? Are you okay?”

Well, you were both soaking wet, layered in frosting, furiously trying to get another cookie to throw at the other. Were you okay? Only physically. Mentally, you weren’t sure either one of you was ever on solid ground there.

“Enough!” Linda yelled. “What is this insanity!? We need to be eating in less than an hour and as per usual, you two can’t go five minutes without fighting! That’s it, everyone get out of this kitchen! This is why I cook, this is why I do everything! I’m the only one that can!”

She turned away to open the door to usher everyone out and you took your chance to get some type of retaliation that you had been longing for since before the damn stay-at-home order.

You were able to reach for a cookie before either Meg or Ransom could stop you, and no one had ever dreamed your target would be Linda, so for a detrimental moment, their reactions were nonexistent. Essentially, everyone could only stare in pure horror as they realized the cookie was darting straight for the back of Linda’s head. Which, in your defense, wasn’t your exact intention. You thought her back, not her head…but well, there was a reason you weren’t a professional athlete.

Gasps filled the room as soon as the cookie contacted Linda’s head, then again when it fell to the floor. Linda slowly turned, eyes wide, jaw set, shoulders tense—that must be where Ransom got it.

“This is my house,” you reminded. “You do not get to order me out of my kitchen!”

She looked at Ransom, silently urging him to make his alliance known right then. Before he had to say anything, yelling sounded from outside the house. Walt and Richard had yet to finish the one job they had, everyone figured that was the cause of the disturbance.

Quickly, you all made your way out to the front of the house. Richard had his leg wrapped up in a mess of lights and was hanging from the edge of the house. The same vines of lights were also wound around Walt, who was hanging onto the house for dear life.

“Oh, my god!” Donna yelled. “Oh, my god!”

“Are you serious?” Linda demanded. “There is a pandemic! You guys seriously want to end up in the god damn hospital during a pandemic?”

Joni sighed in utter frustration. “Walt, just hang on. We’ll get Richard down—”

“Oh, my god!” Donna continued, despite the lack of panic coming from literally every other single person present. Even Walt seemed less alarmed than her. She started running to Richard and on any other day, it would have been an effortless plan of action. On this day, that Massachusetts had just seen a hell of a lot of snow, when the pavement was dangerously icy, she fell.

Meg screamed. “Oh, my god, I’m calling Dr. Fields!”

“He’s a doctor!” Joni pointed out. “A physical doctor—he won’t know how to deal with this sheer stupidity unless someone broke a bone!”

Donna, now over her initial shock, was attempting to get up.

“Donna, I think you’re hurt,” Meg said. “Just stay—”

Jacob was cautiously moving closer to her, directing her to stay put when Walt had finally lost his battle with the house. His hands slipped off and he went sliding down the edge of the roof. Richard hit the floor first, eliciting more screams from Meg and Donna, and then Walt followed onto several snow-covered bushes, and everyone lost their minds.

“I’m calling Dr. Fields! I am fucking calling Dr. Fields right now!” Meg repeated, shaking so much she could hardly get the phone out of her pocket, let alone find which one she had placed it in.

Joni began making her way through the snow to check if Richard was okay.”

“Oh, my god!” Donna was still repeating.

“Mom, just stay down,” Jacob said.

“Jesus,” Ransom snapped. “How hard is it to put these god damn lights on this god damn house?” He was following Joni, confident in the theory that his father was simply being dramatic. Walt, on the other hand, might have needed medical attention.

Meg watched her feet as she was walking back inside. “Dr. Fields, we have a serious emergency right now. I think everyone’s dying!”

Ransom and Joni were helping Richard sit up when he turned back to you. “Hey, get inside, you’re wet and going to get sick.”

He had a point, so without argument, you turned to do so. You felt the boniest of hands on your shoulders before you were shoved down face-first into the snow.

That was when Joni started screaming. “Oh, my god, call the police! She’s going to kill her. Meg, call the police!”

Meg ran out of the house and saw what was happening and once again, started to panic. “Dr. Fields, you need to get here immediately!”

Before you even fully processed what had happened, Linda was on top of you turning you onto your back.

“You stole my house!” she screeched.

“Linda!” Richard scolded.

You saw her hands go for your throat—later, everyone would claim she was probably doing something else, she obviously wasn’t going to choke you. You did the only thing you could think to do, you grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it in her face.

She toppled over and you made your way on top of her. You weren’t going to hit your boyfriend’s mother, but you did proceed to throw snow in her face until Ransom had gotten you off her.

The grand total of injuries was seven. Yet, the total of injuries that had occurred directly in the incident was five. Donna had a bruised tailbone, Richard had a broken leg, Walt had a sprained wrist, your knee was cut up fairly terribly since you fell on it when Linda pushed you, and Linda had stitches on her cheek because the first time you threw snow at her, there was a huge block of ice that you weren’t aware of. After Richard pointed out that you hadn’t started the altercation, she punched him, and he now had a swollen eye. After Ransom had gotten you inside, Meg, in her state of panic, hadn’t seen the door was shut and walked straight into it, and her nose was broken.

You weren’t sure how this family had managed more disaster with nearly 300 fewer people, but there you were. Ransom had forced you into the shower to get all the frosting out of your hair and to hopefully prevent the cold he suspected you were going to catch given the tiny outfit you were parading around in outside.

He lured you out of the shower with a mug of hot chocolate. Every space heater in the house was gathered in your bedroom and as soon as you were in his reach, Ransom wrapped you up in at least three heavy blankets.

When he sat you down on the bed, he pulled your leg out so he could tend to your knee. You felt like a child with him sat next to you with a first aid kit, too-delicately prodding at your irritated, aching skin. He was babying you.

You didn’t feel guilty for what you had done to Linda, but you did hate that Ransom was in the middle. “I’m s—”

He held his hand up to you. “Don’t.”

“But—”

He turned up to you. “Babe, she attacked you.”

“I…threw a cookie at her.”

He snorted. “Yeah, that was a little crazy.”

“I am sorry,” you huffed. “We said we weren’t going to let them bother us today.”

“You finally told her this was your house. I’ve wanted that since we first moved in. I know what we said, but all in all, I think we gained more than we lost.”

“What did we gain, Ransom?”

“Well, she knows you’re scrappy so she might think twice before pushing you again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Anything else?”

“Everyone is going to be preoccupied taking care of each other, Joni doting on Meg, my mom basically doing everything for my dad, Walt and Donna being overly protective of one another…”

“So, we can have sex in the kitchen and there’s a higher chance we won’t get caught?”

“That was exactly what I was thinking.”

You shrugged. “If we got Jacob a dog—”

“You know what?” he cut in. “Get out of these blankets, I haven’t spanked you in a long time even though you’ve deserved it about five times over by now.”

He made a show of attempting to get you out of the blankets even though you both knew he wouldn’t do it. You laughed the entire time until Ransom laid himself out on top of you, uncaring about how heavy he was.

“Is everyone okay?”

“They’ll live.”

“Well, I know Meg will—she’s going to get a nose job.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “You are just going to have to live vicariously through her.”

“We kinda ruined Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I did not,” he argued. “The turkey is almost done, the pies are in the other oven, also almost done—”

“All three?”

He nodded. “Yep. Jacob, believe it or not, was happy to peel and cut the apples.”

You rolled your eyes. “I swear, Ransom.”

“As soon as everyone stops acting like they’re dying, we’ll be able to sit down…well, Donna might not be able to sit down.”

You laughed. “Your family is insane.”

“And clearly, you fit right in.”

“Clearly,” you muttered. Unfortunately.

Christmas Eve:

Sometimes, you wished that you had listened to him when he said this wasn’t happening. Because then you wouldn’t have needed to worry about so many god damn people! It would just be you and Ransom in absolute seclusion, but no. No, you would never have it so easy during this fucking holiday.

How difficult was it to pick up the presents that you had ordered? You picked them out, you organized it all, you had only asked Ransom to drive to a single location and obtain them for you. Why hadn’t he? Because he was sleeping at 2 in the afternoon.

What did you have for Jacob? Not a damn thing. You had no presents for the teenage delinquent you were terrified of. You weren’t family, he was going to store you away in the basement and torture you until he got bored. Ransom probably wouldn’t even realize you had been missing until Jacob placed your body parts all over the house. And three of Meg’s presents were also missing, you knew Linda was going to make another comment.

You would hit her with more ice. After you strangled her son, of course, who was currently hot helping in any way at all.

“Ransom, put your fucking drink down and hand me the tape!”

“Are your fucking hands broken?!”

“I’m holding the box!”

He slammed his drink down on the bedside table and angrily stormed his way to where you were surrounded by boxes, wrapping paper, and a million other things he wasn’t even aware you’d spent money on. This was too much for his family and he was just waiting for you to realize that they were nowhere near worth the effort you constantly put in.

Ransom picked up the tape, tore a piece off, and placed it between where your fingers were resting on the box.

“Thank you so much,” you responded, pure sarcasm.

And god damn, he had had enough of your fucking tone. “You are driving me insane!”

“I’m driving you insane?! Your family has been ruing my whole fucking life since March!”

“I didn’t want them here!”

“Well, I’m a human with actual empathy for others, so I logically knew that that was not an option!”

“You were going to leave my mother out of your precious sanctuary!”

“Because she’s abusive!” You shoved your hands into your hair and shook your head. “I’m done, absolutely done. I can’t have this conversation with you again. Your mother sucks, why is this news to you? I’m so sorry for trying to hold her accountable for her actions. Oh, but of course, every time someone tries to make any of you face the consequences for your actions, you act like it’s a hate crime!”

He glared. “I hate you.”

“I hate you!” you seethed.

“I can’t fucking believe I actually want to do this!” he turned away, scrubbing one of his hands down his face. “You make me so fucking crazy.”

“Do what?” you demanded. “What the hell are you talking about now? What god-awful thing have you decided to do?”

He made his way to the bed, tearing open the drawer to the bedside table on his side. He was muttering quickly under his breath and even if his speech hadn’t been so hurried, it was quiet enough that you had no chance of hearing anything.

It was silent for several moments before he turned back to you and threw something on the bed. He gestured to it then crossed his arms over his chest.

Since your bed was a mess of dark blankets, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to be seeing. You stood, carefully stepping your way out of the present-wrapping station you had created and neared the bed. You stopped dead in your tracks when you saw a tiny black box against the mattress.

You looked back at him, eyes wide, pleading. No…no, that was not happening. He wasn’t actually…

“Marry me.”

“What?!”

He actually seemed surprised by your reaction. He leaned over, snatched the box off the bed, and stomped back to you. “Marry me.”

“You’ve lost it,” you accused. “You’re actually literally insane. You need to be committed!”

“Yes, it’s insane that I want to marry you but for some fucking reason, I do!”

“Oh, my god, Ransom!” You slapped the box out of his hands and that was just too much for him. “I’m not fucking marrying you, you’ve never even told me you love me!”

He hurriedly picked up the box, tossed it back onto the bed, and then grabbed you by your arms. “You’re seriously fucking bringing that up now?”

“What does that even mean?! Yes, I’m bringing it up now. You marry someone when you’re in love with them and since you haven’t said it after seven years, I understandably doubt your feelings for me.”

“You are such a fucking brat.”

“You’re a brat!” you yelled, more exasperated than you’d ever felt. “You’re such a fucking entitled brat! There’s no other way to describe you. You just think I’m going to say yes and give you everything you want when you can’t even say you love me!”

“This is absolutely fucking ridiculous.”

“Just fucking say it, Ransom! If you love me, just say it!”

“You will not bully me into saying something that I don’t even deem as important.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Love is a word! Okay? It means nothing. My parents fucking say they love each other, then my dad fucked someone else. Neal and Joni said they loved each other every god damn second that they could but guess what. He still died. And don’t even get me started on Walt and Donna, their “love” created the next great serial killer of this wonderful fucking country!”

You were speechless, Ransom never talked to you like this. He never brought up the fucked-up aspects of his family that had consequently fucked him up as well.

He finally let you go when he realized you weren’t going to say anything, turning to walk away. You startled when he banged his hand against the wall. “God damn it!”

“Why do you make me say it to you then?” you demanded.

“I don’t know!” he admitted.

Again, you were both silent. You were thinking of the best way to respond, and you certainly couldn’t come up with that, but you knew what you wanted to say. “I’m not marrying you.”

He laughed.

It was a terrifying sound that gave you chills. He was going to kill you, you were 90% sure. As soon as he started walking toward you, you turned away to run to the bathroom, but Ransom had always known that would be your plan.

He effortlessly caught you and dragged you back to the bed. He shoved you down, pinned your arms to the mattress to stop you from hitting him, and slid his hips between your legs to make it impossible to kick him. “You’re going to marry me.”

“You’re going to force me to marry you?”

“I’ll drag you to the fucking courthouse if I have to.”

“The courthouse?!”

“I want to give you a wedding, the obscenely priced, overly dramatic show that I know you want. But if you won’t say yes, you leave me no other option.”

You rolled your eyes. “Then I guess that’s what you’ll have to do because my answer is no.”

Luckily for him, your outfit was not overly complex. He knew you weren’t wearing anything under your skirt because his hand was between your legs for most of dinner that night. You didn’t let him make you come because you were throwing a temper tantrum over the situation with the presents, but he was evidently not deterred.

After he moved your wrists together and kept you held there, he used his free hand to get his pants out of the way. In seconds, he was fully inside you and was offering you no time to adjust.

You realized why when you felt his hands moving over your head. Turning up that way, you saw him fumbling with the box. He was going to put the ring on your finger, and you had the sinking suspicion you might not be able to part with it if you saw it. But no, this was not happening.

You managed to get one of your hands free and yanked on his hair.

He kissed you because he had nothing left to do but bite your lip. Hard. He didn’t even falter when you cried out.

He was the idiot who let you keep your shoes on and you were limited on where you could get your heel. You did yoga, but you weren’t some contortionist. You had one option, and that was stabbing your heel into the side of his ass, and it was completely his own fault.

Finally, he pulled away and was forced to let you on top, which was the only advantage you needed. You smacked the box off the bed. However, now that he wasn’t overly concerned with holding you to the bed, he could pull your hair until you relented and fell back onto the bed.

He rolled over several times until you were both on the very edge, managing to kick your heels off in the process. He never stopped driving his hips into you, knowing that the only advantage he had was how weak you always got for his cock.

You could hear him reaching around blindly on the floor but with each brush of his skin against your clit, you got less scared about the idea that he would get the ring on you. You knew you didn’t want it. You knew you didn’t want to marry him and there was no way in hell you would willingly say yes, but fuck, you wanted to come.

You touched the side of his face and he finally looked back at you.

“Say yes.”

“Fuck you.” You pulled him down, your lips meeting his. There was blood in the kiss and your lip was throbbing, but you couldn’t care. Not when he was fucking you this violently, this angrily. He’d never fucked you like this before. You were no stranger to Ransom being a cruel lover, but there had never been so much pure wrath.

He had located the box, you could tell when his fingernails stopped clicking against the hardwood floor. You were panicking, not fully thinking through your plans, you just knew you needed to be able to reach the box. You threw all your weight at him and he was barely balanced as it was.

Despite his anger, he still had more of a mind than you—probably because he wanted something out of this, he needed to be mindful to get his way. He basically let you throw him on the floor because he worried about the results if he managed to fall on you.

Instead of retaliating any further, you grabbed his hand and brought it down to your center. He needed no further prompt than that, his thumb began to circle your clit as his other hand grabbed your hip and moved you along the length of his cock.

Where was the box? On his chest, he set this there because he was the cockiest fucking asshole in the world. He saw you eyeing it and smirked. “Go ahead, baby, take it, but you know I’ll fucking stop.”

That was unimaginable. Both hands reached for the one he had on your hip. You continued rolling your hips like it was the last time you were ever going to get to, dragging his hand up to your mouth.

“I swear if you fucking bite me,” he warned.

No, you weren’t going to do that. Yet. You choked yourself on his fingers, stifling all the pathetic sounds that were spilling out from you. Ransom simply enjoyed the show, enjoyed you fucking yourself on his cock, enjoyed you staring at him with those smoky, delicate eyes as you sucked on his fingers.

He stopped touching your clit once he felt you coming. He used that hand to hold you up on your knees and thrust his hips into you punishingly. You were dizzy, disastrously satiated and overstimulated. He finished with a shaking moan, a tell that he was trying to be quiet.

It wasn’t late, the family was undoubtedly aware of what was going on.

He turned down, staring at the place you were still connected. Ransom waited until his cum was spilling out of you and then yanked you back down to take his entire length. If there was anything that Ransom did love in this world it was filling you with his cum and watching it slowly pour out.

You only allowed him to do this several times before you finally bit down on his fingers. His hand lifted from your hip and tore your hair back hard enough that you opened your mouth to yell at him. When he could pull his fingers from your mouth, he wrapped that hand around your neck and pulled you flat down, your chest to his, the ring box trapped between you and him, digging painfully into your ribs.

He slammed you into the wall and you brought your legs up to hook around his waist. “Sorry, daddy, I didn’t mean to bite you.”

“After I get this ring on you, I’m gonna make you call your parents and tell them we’re engaged. And I’m gonna fuck you and make you call me daddy, just to remind your father how much of a daddy’s girl you used to be.”

“Why call when you could Facetime?”

“Then I’m gonna have you choking on my cock, baby, all they need to see is the ring on your finger.” The hand in your hair wedged its way between you and him and he located your clit once more.

It was too much but you knew Ransom wasn’t going to care. Begging him to stop would just provide him enjoyment and that was the last thing you wanted him to have. He kept his other hand around your neck because he knew you would say something that would annoy the fuck out of him if he let you.

When you were coming, his hips were moving once more and his hand abandoned your clit to move the box. You felt it sliding along your skin until it was gone and then you realized he wasn’t holding your neck anymore. He had your left hand held clutched in his and you felt the cold band he was sliding onto your finger.

You couldn’t do much, you had lost and you knew it. But you could leave a few more marks on him, so you latched your free hand onto his shoulder and dragged your nails down his back, and you bit down on his shoulder harder than you probably should have. He was a fucking animal, it seemed like he didn’t care at all. He just wanted to get the ring on you, and once he had, he grabbed your face and shoved you back.

You knew he was trying to get you to look at the ring, but you refused. Your eyes were slammed shut and nothing was going to change that.

He walked you to the bathroom, pulling out to bend you over the counter because he knew you would instinctually lift both hands up to the edge. Once you had, he shoved his cock back inside you and grabbed your jaw to angle your face in the direction of your left hand. “Look at it.”

“Fuck. You!” you growled.

He smacked your ass and even though you shrieked like he was murdering you, you did not open your eyes. He repeated this several times until his own hand was stinging almost unbearably. New plan.

He used his feet to kick your legs apart further and you felt a sharp, sudden slap against your cunt. Your eyes snapped open and a scream tore from your throat. He almost felt bad until he saw your attention on the ring. Was he an ass? Yes. But had he won? Also, yes.

That fucking asshole. His hand dropped to rub over your aching pussy, cock still moving at a painfully fast pace. Ransom was fucking furious and the only way he could take it out on you was by fucking you this way.

You couldn’t say you had any complaints about it. Tomorrow, when you were pretending you couldn’t stand to look at him, you would be bruised and sore everywhere that he had touched you. You would be wet all day thinking about how it happened.

The fucking ring. A huge cushion-cut diamond set in a halo on top of a diamond-encrusted band. It wasn’t simple, it sounded like it, but there was something so beautiful about it. Fuck, you wouldn’t let this ring go unless you were dead. Because he was right. You liked money and diamonds and you were materialistic, and this was from Ransom and you loved everything he gave you. And at the end of it all, even though you were saying no to him, he shoved that ring onto your finger because you were his and that was never going to change.

“Say yes.”

“No.”

“Fine.” He reached for your hand but stopped when he saw you make a fist.

“Try to take this ring from me and I will fucking kill you, Ransom.”

He scoffed. “Great, I’m gonna get my phone to Facetime your parents.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fuck you.”

“Not yet,” he pointed out. “First, I need to fuck your mouth, but then—”

From outside, the dogs started to bark.

You let your head fall onto the counter and groaned. “I fucking swear, every fucking time we’re fucking—”

He pulled out and rushed from the bathroom.

“Hey!” you called out. “What the hell?”

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered to himself as he searched for where he’d thrown his pants. When had he even gotten them off?

“Ransom?”

“Wait there,” he directed and then he dashed out of the room.

“Excuse you!” It wasn’t like you had much of an option, your legs weren’t working yet, and you were sweating and gross, and bruised and your lip was swollen and clearly bitten.

After several moments, he hadn’t come back. What the hell was he up to? You winced and hummed, made any noise that made you feel slightly better, as you tiptoed around the room looking for something to put on. You settled on one of his shirts and slowly, pathetically made your way downstairs. “Ransom?”

No response.

“Hello, anyone?” If someone else was around, you could force them to look for your boyfriend instead of having to do so yourself. But it seemed that you were out of luck on that.

The dogs were still barking like crazy, but why was no one else reacting? And why did Ransom care? He never paid attention to the dogs. You followed the sound of their barking, they had moved from the backyard to the side of the house. Which was odd because they never went there.

The garage? Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard Linda complaining about something, being constantly interrupted by Joni, Walt, and Ransom. Okay, again, unusual. He tended to ignore his mother, not argue with her.

His eyes widened when he saw you in the doorway. “No, no, this has to stop. I need everyone out of this room.”

“What the hell is going on?” you questioned.

“We don’t want to alarm you,” Donna began, “But—”

“Pretty sure he has drugs,” Meg claimed. “Like, hardcore drugs. Heroin, probably.”

Your eyes widened at him.

He glared. “I don’t have drugs, don’t be ridiculous.”

You gasped, pointing in the direction of the dogs still barking outside. “Those are German Shepherds, they’re drug dogs!”

Meg gasped, nodding at you with wide eyes. “I’m calling the cops.”

“Knock it off,” Linda scolded. “Ransom, show us what you’re hiding right now, or we’ll tear this room apart.”

He rolled his eyes, storming over to the corner of the room where a sheet was laid over something. “Fine, merry fucking Christmas.” He yanked it off one of the old kennels Linda used for her dogs when they were being trained.

There was a long list of things you were suspecting to see. Three sleeping puppies? No, they were nowhere on the list. And then you realized that was why he hadn’t gone to pick up Jacob’s present.

“You got me more puppies?” Linda inquired.

You, along with most of the room, glared at her.

“No,” Ransom snapped. “One is for Jacob and one’s for Meg.”

Both Jacob and Meg excitedly ran to the cage, startling the puppies awake. Much to Ransom’s dismay, the baby talk began without a second thought and the puppies were whining and making those small noises that always irritated him.

One for Jacob. One for Jacob. Then…the third. Oh, god.

He turned to you with a sigh.

“Yes,” you said, “Yes, yes, a million times yes!” You ran across the room, ignoring all your aching limbs and threw yourself into his arms. “And I’ll stop being so mean to you, and if you want to do this at the courthouse, I won’t even be upset because you’re so good to me and I’m awful to you. I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” he assured.

“No,” you protested. “It’s a million times not okay! I’m so sorry.” You pulled back to touch his face. “I’m really, really sorry. But I’m going to be the best wife in the world—”

“What?” Joni cut in.

That was the only thing in the world that could have drawn attention away from the puppies.

“Wife?” Linda repeated.

You checked with Ransom and he nodded. He had been looking forward to this. All you had to do was hold out your hand and Joni and Meg were excitedly shrieking. There hadn’t been a wedding in the family in so long.

“Wow,” Walt said. “Ransom? Engaged, showing commitment? This is the strangest year I’ve ever lived.”

Ransom rolled his eyes.

Before another word could be said, Linda collapsed onto the floor. Richard and Walt were the only ones who felt alarmed at the situation, while everyone else moved in closer to see the puppies.

“Which one is ours?” you wondered.

“Yours,” he corrected. “And the blonde one. She was the least yappy I could find on such short notice.”

Your eyebrows pulled together. “Where did you go?”

“The pound, obviously.”

“I fucking love you,” you blurted out, grabbing his face to pull him down into a kiss.

Once again, the room echoed with disgusted sounds.

“Which one’s mine?” Meg wondered.

“I couldn’t care less,” he admitted.

“I’m gonna name mine Hugh,” Jacob announced.

Ransom gave you an expectant look.

“I love you?” you tried.

“Gonna need a lot more than that.” He picked you up and because you knew Ransom wasn’t going to accept any kind of attitude from you for a very long time, you hooked your legs and arms around him and willingly went.

“I’ll take care of your dog until you guys are done being gross!” Meg promised.

chris tags:

@onetwo3000​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @donutloverxo​ @kleohoneyao3​ @cevans-fics​

ransom tags:

@la-cey​

#ransom drysdale x reader #i did not actually do this #like wtf is wrong with me? #my writing

[sukifans]

Get that bread! I really miss working but I also enjoy not being on my feet all the time lol Can I ask for #10 and #16 with Sokka and a f!reader? A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it. One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person. -🍓

DAY OFF // sokka

WC: 1.8k

WARNINGS: none

A/N: these two prompts were so cute together i love it!! thank u for the request bb. i keep writing about people being cold and i think i’m just trying to manifest some fall weather instead of the 85° days that i’m getting where i live

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

You shivered against the chilly morning air and, still mostly asleep, reached around to find the warm body that usually occupied the bed with you. When your hand found only blankets and pillows you peeked one eye open to discover you were alone. You frowned and sat up, squinting against the early morning sunlight that streamed through the window. With a huff you threw your socked feet over the side of the bed to step into your slippers and wrapped yourself in the warmest fur from your bed before venturing out into the main room of your home. You found Sokka sitting by the hearth in the center of the room, chin in his palm as he considered the scroll in front of him. He looked up when he heard you enter and a soft smile spread across his face when he saw you bundled up and eyes barely open.

“Morning,” he called to you, patting the spot next to him on the mat. You made a sleepy noise of acknowledgement as you shuffled over and plopped down next to him with a yawn. “What’re you doing up so early?”

“‘S cold in bed without you,” you mumbled, snuggling up against his side. He chuckled and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you in tight against him. Though it was still frigid, you already felt warmer in his embrace. You unthinkingly accepted the quick peck he gave you like every other morning. “Why are you awake?”

“Dad asked me to look over these plans for the new village square before the council meeting today.”

You groaned and buried your face into his neck. “I thought you said they could handle it? You promised no work for a few days so we can just lay in bed and eat and do nothing.”

“I know, but I can’t help being the most competent person around here. They need me... desperately. I mean, look at this!” He gestured forcefully at the plans. “Not even Aang’s spirity stuff could hold this building up. And the market placement just doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’re cute when you’re smart.” You pressed a kiss to his jaw and leaned against his shoulder.

“I’m always smart.”

“You’re always cute,” you giggled at the look he shot down at you.

“I think I’ve been a bad influence on you. That almost gave me oogies.”

“Almost?”

He cupped your face in his hands and nudged your nose with his. “Yeah, if you weren’t so darn cute yourself.”

You rolled your eyes and slid your hands over his, smiling. “Ew. Gross, Sokka.”

“I can’t help it, you bring it out of me.”

“Still not as gross as Aang and Katara, though.”

Sokka pulled a face and tossed his head back. “Blegh, don’t make me think about that. I was having such a nice time just looking at your pretty face.”

“Stop it,” you huffed, “you’re making me blush.”

“I know, it’s cute.” His fond, teasing grin only made your cheeks flush warmer.

“Come back to bed,” you sighed, turning your head to kiss his palm. “The village square can wait, surely.”

His regretful expression did not leave you hopeful. “The meeting is today.”

“You have to go?” He nodded and your lips turned down into a frown. “Ugh. No fair, I called dibs on you today.”

His rumbling chuckle filled your chest with a glowing warmth. “Unfortunately, the council doesn’t respect the sovereignty of dibs.”

You clicked your tongue distastefully. “Well, I don’t respect the sovereignty of the council.”

“Just don’t let them hear you say that,” he said before leaning in to give you a sweet kiss to wipe away your pout. You hummed happily against his mouth, shifting your body as close as you could and reaching into his hair to pull it free from the wolf tail he wore. His warm breath tickled across your face when you pulled away just enough to catch your breath.

“What do you have against my wolf tail?” he asked, kissing you quickly again.

“You’re so pretty with your hair down,” you murmured, “‘s not my fault.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” he laughed. He watched you curiously as you stood again, taking his hands and tugging him up with you. You walked backwards in the direction of your bedroom, sporting a sly smirk when he put up no resistance.

“C’mon, pretty boy. Those blankets and pillows are calling our names.” He simply chuckled and shook his head but still happily followed your lead to collapse back in bed. You pulled one of the fur blankets over the both of you, thrilled to have his warm weight on top of you in bed once again.

“I can’t believe you seduced me back here,” he grumbled against your shoulder as your arms snaked around his waist.

“You know you can’t resist me,” you said, kissing his temple.

“Mhm.” He propped himself up on his elbows to look down at you. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll go to this meeting, get it over with as quick as possible. Then I’ll come home, lock the door, barricade the windows, and we won’t leave this bed for a whole day. How does that sound, princess?”

You hummed thoughtfully, tapping your chin as you considered this. “Make it two days and you’re golden.”

“Even better.” He captured your lips in a bruising kiss, tilting your chin up. You raised one hand into his hair to twirl the loose strands between your fingers. “You might give me a run for my money as far as being the smartest person here.”

“You can keep the title. Wouldn’t want to bruise your ego.” You pulled him back down to your mouth insistently. He indulged you for a few moments, gently brushing his thumb along your cheekbone while his hand pressed against your jaw.

“I really”—he kissed you again—“need to look”—and again—“at those plans.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

“You’re very distracting.”

“That’s my job.”

“Well, I have to go do my job.” He gave you one last lingering kiss before pushing himself back up to stand next to the bed. You groaned unhappily, wrapping yourself tightly in the blankets. He ruffled your hair affectionately and walked back out into the main room. After moping in the warm softness of your bed for a few minutes longer, you resigned yourself to dressing in your coziest furs in that signature blue of the water tribes. The women of the tribe had been kind enough to fashion you a wardrobe that would keep you comfortable in the arctic weather as soon as they heard you’d be coming with Sokka for his most recent return trip to the developing faction.

You followed his path out of the bedroom and went about preparing a pot of tea to hang over the fire. Sokka had become absorbed in marking up the plans with corrections and only briefly glanced up to shoot you a warm smile when you sat next to him with a cup and a book in hand. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, leaning against one another, both completely content to simply exist in the vicinity of the other.

Eventually, maybe after an hour or so, Sokka set his brush down, stretched, and turned to pull your back against his chest in a squeezing hug around your middle, setting his chin on your shoulder. You didn’t look up from your book but still leaned back into his hold, squirming a little as he peppered kisses on the little skin of your neck and face that your clothes left exposed.

“Meeting’s soon,” he sighed quietly, lips barely brushing your ear as he spoke. “I should get going.”

You tilted your head back to gaze up at him pleadingly. “Promise it’ll be quick?”

“I can’t promise anything”—he pecked your lips—“but I’ll try my best.”

“Mmm, fine.” You turned your attention back to your book. “Go be your impressive and intelligent and nitpicky self.” He puffed up at your praise until you mentioned “nitpicky,” at which point he scoffed and pinched your cheek.

“I have to be nitpicky, they’re putting up buildings.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing. I think it’s endearing,” you said absently, turning the page as you read. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“You’re distracting me again.”

“Don’t blame me.” He licked his finger and stuck it in your ear, making you recoil with a shout of disgust. You slapped his chest with your book. “Ugh, Sokka! You are such a child; I rescind my previous praises. Get out.”

He laughed deviously as he stood and made his way to the door where his outerwear hung on the wall. You huffed in irritation and repositioned yourself to get comfortable again, shooting him a glare that he returned with a cheeky grin while he shrugged into his thick parka.

“Aw, c’mon, princess! Don’t be mad at me when I’m about to leave. I could die out there and the last thing you would’ve said to me would be, ‘get out.’”

You rolled your eyes. “If the Fire Nation couldn’t kill your goofy ass I doubt anything will get you during a council meeting.”

“You don’t know that,” he postured as he stepped into his boots. “A rabid polar bear dog could burst into the building and eat us all.”

“Run faster than those geriatrics on the council and you’ll be fine.” You couldn’t help but smile a little bit at his bark of laughter.

“Your lack of concern stings,” he said, pressing his hand to his heart.

“I’m sure it does.” He walked back over to you and lifted you to your feet. His hands slid down your sides and settled on your waist.

“I’m sorry,” he pouted dramatically. “Please forgive me?” You tried your best to look bothered, but he knew you couldn’t resist that groveling look and those wide, clear blue eyes.

“You’re annoying, but I guess you’re forgiven.”

“So merciful, my dearest, darling (Y/N).” He took your hand that wasn’t holding your book and raised it to his lips, kissing your knuckles tenderly. Even though he was teasing, the gesture still flustered you.

“Oh, cut it out.” You swatted at him, hoping he didn’t notice the pink in your cheeks (he did).

“I’ll be back soon—“ he pulled you in closer so you were chest to chest “—don’t miss me too much.”

“No promises,” you said before wrapping your arms around his neck and rising on your toes to kiss him sweetly. “Don’t get eaten by a polar bear dog.”

“No promises,” he echoed with a laugh, slotting his mouth over yours once more. After stalling with kisses for a bit longer, he finally stepped away and opened the door, letting in a blast of freezing air. You wrapped your arms around yourself and shivered.

“Love you,” you called after him.

“Love you, too.” He sent you a wave and a warm smile before stepping out and shutting the door behind him.

With a resolute sigh you opened your book and settled down again, pouring a fresh cup of tea to hold in your icy fingers. The fire didn’t warm you nearly as much as Sokka’s presence did, but it would have to do for now.

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @simpinforsukka @protect-remus @akiris @sunflowerazula

ZUKO/SOKKA TAGS: @fiantomartell @avatarayeaye @hypercakeiii

#sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #x sokka #sokka fluff #sokka fic #atla sokka #atla x reader #sokka #mine #requests #atla fic #avatar the last airbender

[knchins]

Symbiosis - Benimaru & Joker

Summary: Benimaru, Joker, and a former Sister learn how to work through their frustrations with their investigation into the Holy Sol Temple through the one thing they know best: sex.

Pairing: Benimaru Shinmon x Fem!Reader x Joker

Rating: E

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: pwp (I didn't even try this time lmao), spanking, vaginal sex, oral sex, dirty talk/degradation, some dob/sub themes, hair pulling, face fucking. I do not count this as dp but some people might. SPIT ROASTING.

Notes: So I wrote this for @tamcitrus and I hope she likes it! It’s like my most self indulgent piece to date probably lol. Idk how I managed to write this while being barely able to breathe but when the inspo strikes what can you do....First FF/ENS piece! I think they may be a bit OOC but...whatever I’m too sick to care.,

 “So will you join me, Sister?” The mysterious man asked as he puffed on a cigarette. You stared off at the nighttime skyline, at the temple in the very far eastern horizon. Was this something you really wanted to do? It would be dangerous, but you could sense the power coming from him. Not only that, he had already enlisted the help of the Captain of the 7th, Benimaru Shinmon. It wasn’t as if you’d be taking on the church all by yourself.  

 Your mind drifted as the King of Destruction peppered kisses down your bare throat. The mission with Joker hadn’t been entirely successful. In the end they were met with Captain Burns who handed you a journal that belonged to the wife of Raffles I. While it was true you did come up with some new theories about the White Clad, ultimately it felt like a dead end. Now you just had more questions than answers and it was incredibly frustrating.

 But you weren’t the only one frustrated. Your two new comrades had been too. Eventually you had found a way to relieve the tension that had built up over so many years of bullshit. Having been an orphan and raised as a Sister for the Holy Sol Temple, you had plenty of ill will harbored against the empire. You had long abandoned your title but that didn’t stop the two men from egging you on by calling you by it.

 Currently the former assassin was watching through a half-lidded eye as you sat in Benimaru’s lap, your back to his chest as he kissed along your neck and cupped both breasts in his hands. You were already stripped down to your underwear, both men clad in only pants and briefs. Joker tended to observe first before joining in, enjoying taking his time watching the view of Beni turn you on and work you over. Small trails of smoke rose from the lit white stick of tobacco that hung from his mouth.

 “You look so pretty like that, Sister.” He drawled, inhaling another wave of smoke that filtered out of his nose. “You like when he plays with your tits don’t you?”

 “Don’t call me that,” You protested weakly in a voice that came out as more of a moan than a grumble as Beni began to tweak your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. You began to wiggle in his lap, ass brushing against his stiffening cock in a way that had him biting down on your shoulder possessively.

 The cotton panties you had been wearing were soaked all the way through between your legs. This stupid little routine always had you mewling and crying before anyone even bothered touching your needy cunt. Beni enjoyed torturing you too much and Joker enjoyed watching him do it. You had known in the beginning being the only woman in the trio would put you at a disadvantage. You just didn’t know how much.

 “Waka, please.” You gasped as he bit down on your throat this time, sucking a bruise into the skin there. One of your hands moved to try and touch your clit for some form of relief, but he warned you by warming up his hands rapidly. It wasn’t enough to burn you but it was enough to let you know that he would if you didn’t play by his rules. “Asshole.” You hissed, pulling your hand back up to a safe distance. You reached behind him and grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging it angrily.

 Beni quickly pushed you onto the tatami mat on the floor roughly, holding the back of your head in one hand, pressing your face against the material as he lifted your hips up with the other. He began to grind his erection against the wet fabric of your underwear, seething as he ripped down your underwear so that you were completely bare for the both of them.

 He took no time in slapping your ass in retaliation for pulling on his hair. “Impatient little slut.” He growled, causing you to clench with desire. The way his deep voice reverberated in the small room made you even wetter.

 Joker was laughing lightly at the scene. It was pretty typical for you to piss Beni off. And the cute little squeaks you let out as the captain spanked you was just even more delectable than your moans. He finally stood, dropping his pants and underwear at the same time as he knelt before you. Beni took his hand off the back of your head so you could lift up enough for Joker to grab you by the hair and pull you up onto your hands.

 He always had an affinity for fucking your warm wet mouth. Something about choking you on his dick felt better than either your pussy or ass. It was definitely his preferred hole, not that Benimaru minded. It was easier to punish you if he had total control of your lower half. You could hear Beni remove himself from the rest of his clothing as well.

 At the feeling of his blushed head pressing into your folds, you began to protest. “Beni, you have to-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence as Fifty-Two plunged his dick into your open mouth.

 “How many times do I have to tell you, Sister,” Benimaru spat out. “Only good girls get warm ups.” Then he pushed his impressively large cock into your small hole, filling you up and stretching you out with a familiar but still painful burn.

 Your cries were garbled by the dick in your mouth. Joker was still, watching the different emotions cross your face: panic, surprise, pain, pleasure. The last one had your jaw slackening for him drool rolling off your lower lip as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. Despite the initial discomfort, there was no greater pleasure in this life than the Captain’s cock being buried balls deep into your soaking pussy.

 “This is what you wanted, right little slut?” Beni asked, smacking you one last time as he slowly pulled out and rammed back in, forcing you to lurch forward and deep throat the man in front of you.

 You gagged, making Joker laugh at your expense. “I’m pretty sure that’s what she wanted.” He said, given your hair a gentle pull. You struggled to breathe, tears rolling from the corners of your eyes reflexively. You tried to back away from him to give yourself some sort of relief, walls clamping down tight on Benimaru behind you. He let out a small groan at the sensation, though he didn’t budge as you tried to push back on him.

 “If only the Sisters that raised you could see you now. Choking on the dick of Holy Sol Temple’s number one enemy. I bet you’d get off that too, wouldn’t you, Sister?” Joker asked as he pulled his hips back enough to allow you to breathe. You shot him a pitiful glare at the taunt, grabbing his bare thigh and digging your nails into it angrily. They always loved to tease you when you were in no position to defend yourself. It could be so annoying.

 The pain of your nails tearing at his skin was about on the same level as an insect bite. It was really insignificant to him, and therefore it didn’t cause him to correct his actions. He simply tightened his grip on your hair.

 Beni started to move in and out of you at a quick and relentless place. Though he had been kind enough to let you adjust to his size, he wasn’t a total monster. He only started doing with his regular rhythm when he started to feel you relax around him. The muffled moans spilled from your mouth as your eyes rolled back. Any time he fucked you from behind he was always able to hit that sweet stop with his cockhead, the one that had you weak in the legs and gripping him dear life.

 Both men highly enjoyed the sounds of you sputtering and crying for more, your words a garbled mess due to Joker’s length plowing into you at a matching speed. The first few times you three had indulged in one another, the rhythms were out of sync and almost awkward. But now, they had the routine down pat. They knew how the other one worked and could easily find the best way to compliment the other’s thrusts. This had Beni pushing in while Joker was pulling out and you stayed as still as you possibly could so that you wouldn’t impale yourself on either of them in a painful manner.

 It felt like the pinnacle of symbiosis. Everyone works together for their own gain but not at the expense of the other. In the end no one would be left out or at a loss. You’d have to remember to thank Joker later for gathering the three of you together.

 Beni let out a curse as he increased his pace, using one hand to push locks of sweaty hair from his eyes. Sometimes he was convinced that your body had been made for him. He fit inside of you like a hand in a perfectly tailored glove. The gentle squeeze of your kegels anytime he or Joker did something you found particularly pleasurable, whether it was tugging on your hair, slapping your ass, or degrading you with their words, just made him feel so damn good.

 Any time he was buried in you, regardless of which hole it was, he always became devoid of any rational thought. The sex consumed all of you, the tension releasing with the exertion of their hips. Infiltrating the temple, investigating Hajima, life had just become so stressful lately. This was the only time any of you could truly just let go.

 That familiar tight coil was winding itself up in your lower abdomen, the pressure building with every thrust as you took deep breaths through your nose. “Ahh, Sister,” Joker said through heavy breaths, “You better be a good girl and not swallow right away.”

 Of course you knew what he meant, the way his thrusts became a little less in sync with Beni’s and a little more arrhythmic as he chased after his orgasm. He was the first to come, filling your mouth and throat with warm white seed. He pulled away, still holding onto your hair as you stuck out your covered tongue to show him, the white liquid spilling onto the mat beneath you as you were pounded from behind. Your moans were no longer muffled and were loudly filling the small room. No doubt other members of squad seven could hear you, not that you card any more. Konro was probably just shaking his head at his captain’s antics.

 “Now swallow.” Joker instructed as he sat back on his heels. Your tongue retracted into your mouth and you swallowed every last drop that hadn’t fallen from your mouth. The blissed out look on your face was almost enough to make him hard again, your whimpers as you neared your peak, the needy look in your eyes. Nothing else mattered in this moment but the release.

 You came with another loud cry, collapsing onto your chest as your arms gave out beneath you. Benimaru worked you through it, his balls slapping against your clit had you shaking and sobbing at the overstimulation. A moment later he was filling you up with his own seed, gobs of it gushing out around the base of his cock and onto your folds.

 Joker moved to watch him pull out of you slowly so he could observe the gaping, leaky hole. He let out a low whistle at the sight. “Latom,” He said jokingly, folding his hands in prayer as Beni guided your hips down onto the ground.  Benimaru rolled his eyes at his partner in crime, making sure to soothe the bruise skin of your ass with his rough hands.

 “Get some rest, Sister.” Benimaru said solemnly as he got redressed. “Our investigation resumes tonight.”

 You let out a low groan at the reminder, having totally forgotten that you were going back to Hajima headquarters to try and gather more information. “Fine, just let me take a nap first.” You grumbled sleepily. You couldn’t see the soft smile on his face as he glanced at Joker who nodded back in a silent response.

 Benimaru maneuvered you to his futon with Joker’s help, covering you with a blanket so you could rest in peace. Then in a few hours it would be business as usual.

#benimaru shinmon #benimaru x reader #fire force #en en no shobotai #enen no shouboutai #fire force imagines #joker x reader #52 x reader #benimaru imagine #joker imagine