#what the fuck do you mean that you would break up with marta - MARTA !!!- over text ricardo !!!! how fucking dare you

[flystep]

vanya does 100% believe that he and ricardo are in an open relationship that they've just never actually communicated about before

[dbnightingale24]

A Sneak Peek To ‘The Dog House Isn’t The Best, But It Can Still Be Our Home’

The final installation to ‘Pavlov’s Dog’

~~

 Finally getting back into the swing of writing!! It’s been a crazy month, so I haven’t been able to write like I want to, but I think we’re finally getting back into a habit...well, as much as a habit as one can get into. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it, and I can’t wait finish this up and post it!

Warnings: Swearing, Arguing, Heartbreak, Crying, Co-Parenting...ish

Word Count: 2163

~~ 

Ransom’s P.O.V.

“You can’t be here,” you muttered as met me at your parents front door.

“You won’t answer my texts or calls-”

“Because we’re done! Ransom, please stop. Please! This hurts too much and we need to just call it quits!”

“Why? Because of what I said?! I know it was fucked up and I fucking apologized-”

“Ransom, I can’t do this right now! I can’t deal with you and all of your bullshit-”

“What bullshit?! I love you!”

“I don’t wanna do this with you again. Please, don’t make me do this again.”

“You love me-”

“What does that mean?! Honestly, what the fuck does that mean in this situation?! I said it before and I’ll fucking say it again: you’re a fucking bully, Ransom! You don’t care about who you hurt as long as you get your way, and I can’t do it! I’m no saint, but I’m not that terrible! Whether or not he’s your child or not, he didn’t deserve to hear you speak about him like that!”

“He is my child,” I confessed softly.

If the situation hadn’t been so damn serious, I would’ve laughed at the look of pure bewilderment on your face. You were probably wondering how I could’ve been so careless, cause it was all I could think about since Marta told the both of us.

“I can’t...I can’t do this right now, Ransom. I have to-”

“Y/N, I love you. I love you so much and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that,” I promised as I got down on one knee.

“You can’t be fucking serious right now!” you snapped as your eyes went wide.

“We’re meant to be-”

“Ransom, please don’t do this. Not right here and not right now,” you sobbed as you shook your head.

Why didn’t I listen? Why can’t I ever just fucking listen?

“Why not? It’s difficult, but it’s not impossible! We can do this!”

“Ransom, stop it! Please don’t do this-”

“Marry me, Y/N. Just say yes. We can do this, all you have to do is say-”

“No, Ransom,” you sobbed. “I won’t marry you. Not right now and not like this.”

“Y/N-”

“This isn’t how this is supposed to go. You don’t propose as a last desperate plea! I’m not some fucking toy, I’m not your Mom, and I’m not your fucking therapist. I can’t be your fucking scapegoat-”

“You wouldn’t be!”

“That’s all I would be! Ransom, I can’t do this-”

“Yes, you can! Just say yes! We can move, we can start over, we can start our lives together-”

“No we can’t! Ransom, this isn’t going to solve all of the problems we have-”

“But it can!”

“Ransom, please don’t make me give you a definite answer right now, because you won’t like it.”

“Just say yes! There’s no reason not to-”

“They’re a million reasons not to! Ransom, no. I can’t just jump into this because I’m in love with you-”

“Jump into this because you know it’s right!  We’re right for each other and we have been-”

“What about your son?!”

“What about him?! She did all of this out of spite and jealousy-”

“So he should suffer?! He did nothing and-”

“He doesn’t even know me! He’s gone this long without knowing me, and he’s probably better off for it!”

“Do you even hear yourself?! That’s a fucking cop out and you know it!”

“I never wanted a life with her!”

“You still fucking lied to and manipulated her, Ransom! I hate to break it to you, but they’re consequences to your actions!”

“Listen, I know I fucked up and I hurt you...I’ve hurt others, but before this...Y/N, we were doing so good! Please! I love you and you love me-”

“Love isn’t enough, Ransom. Not this time,” you sobbed as you backed up. “Please, just leave me alone, Ransom. Stop sending flowers, stop coming up around, stop calling and texting...please, just let me go. I love you so much, but I can’t take this anymore. You’re one way with me in private, and completely different in public and I just can’t...you’re not a bad guy, Ransom. I know you want the rest of the world to see you that way as a defense mechanism, but I know you. Truly know you and I don’t like the asshole you pretend to be. I never expected you to be perfect, and yeah, I could live with a lot of things, but you’re just making excuses for yourself! You don’t try at all and I won’t...I can’t the only guiding light in your life. I can’t be the only thing you care about, especially when you don’t even care about yourself!”

“Sweet Thing-”

“No Ransom, I love you, but I can’t keep making excuses for you-for myself so I’ll be able to stomach the shady shit you do! Love is not enough-”

“Everything I’ve done is forgivable!”

“Tell that to Fran!”

“You were fine with it before-”

“Just because I stomached it, doesn’t mean I was fine with it, and ya know what? That’s on me. I talked myself into believing that you were trying to change because of how well you were treating me, but that was all bullshit, wasn’t it? It was all an act-”

“No, it wasn’t! I love you-”

“Ransom, I can’t do this anymore. Love is clearly not enough...not anymore.”

“Y/N-”

“Please go,” you sobbed softly.

What other choice did I have? The resignation was in your eyes, and it had been there since we got back to my house that day. I can’t even blame you, because it’s my lifestyle that put us in the position we’re in, isn’t it? There’s not even a ‘we’.

There’s only me.

You could barely even look at me today, and why should you? Why would you? Lets not pretend any of this shit is on you. From day one, I’ve been getting all of this shit wrong, for reasons that shouldn’t have mattered. I should’ve gone after you the right way when I had the chance, but pride and fear got in the way and I stayed silent. Then, when I finally decided that it was time to go after you, it was because of my bruised ego. Then, despite all of the hell you ended up going through, you still gave me a chance.

Why do I have to fuck up everything? Why can’t I ever bite my tongue, especially when my temper flares up.

You were 100% right in everything that you said. You and I have had so many talks about our shitty childhoods, how terrible our parents were, and what the fuck do I do? The second the words left my mouth, I knew you were more furious with me than anything else, but I couldn’t stop myself.

Fuck Marta.

Yeah, I know my actions have consequences and all that shit, but she did this out of spite, and a stupid weak attempt to win me back. She knew I would snap, especially with Linda being there, and it had nothing to do with our son getting to know me.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t throw you down the fucking steps right now?!” I snarled as I threw the results of the paternity test down. “You little bitch-”

“He has a right to know-”

“Bullshit! Marta this is all bullshit! You don’t give a fuck if that kid knows who his father is or not, and-”

“He’s your son, Ransom!”

“Then why wait until now?! You tell me about him after how many years?!”

She said nothing as tears streamed down her face.

“FUCKING ANSWER ME, MARTA! YOU JUST RUINED THE MOST IMPORTANT RELATIONSHIP IN MY LIFE-”

“YOU TOLD ME YOU LOVED ME!” she shouted at me. “You told me you loved me, took half of the inheritance and the company and left!”

“Don’t fucking blame me because you didn’t cover your own ass, Marta! You’ve always known the type of man I am, so I don’t know why you truly believed you were so fucking so special when I-”

“Because you made me believe I was! You made me-”

“Jesus Marta, has no one ever taken you out? Showed you a good time, fucked you senseless? I do a few basic things and you thought a ring was coming? I barely even had to work get that money, but and it’s my fault?! Have I not made sure you’re taken care of? You’re sister and Mother are taken care of, aren’t they?! I’m the one keeping the family afloat in accordance to Harlan’s wishes, not Walt, so I’m still taking care of you! So what the fuck?!”

“What the fuck is so special about her?! What’s so fucking great about her that you’re ready and willing to change your ways?! Why do you get to have your happy ending?! All you do is take from and hurt people! So no! I wasn’t about to sit back and let you live in some fucking fairy-tale!”

“I hope you don’t expect me to help you raise him-”

“He’s your son and now he knows who his Father is!”

“He also knows I don’t want him, and whose fucking fault is that?! You didn’t think about him at all! Not only does Linda know, but you made sure to crush his soul!”

“That’s not-”

“Not what? Not fucking true? It fucking burns you, doesn’t it?! You’re not the fucking saint that everyone thinks you are! At the end of the fucking day, you’re just as terrible and two faced as the rest of us!” I spat at her, venom laced in every word.

She’d probably been holding it in for a majority of the talk, but she finally ran to the trash and threw up everything in her.

“Exactly, as much as you hate me, I can read you like a fucking book. You’re not as holy, perfect, and saint like as you’d like for everyone to believe. Fuck you, Marta!” I yelled before I started to storm out.

“What...what do you think is gonna...happen?” she breathed once she finally got herself together. “You think...you think she’s gonna take you back after you abandoned your own son? After...after all the things you’ve...said? She’s too good for you, Ransom. She doesn’t want damaged goods.”

It’s not like she was wrong.

There was no way in hell you’d take me back, especially if I would’ve abandoned my own child...again. So, I’ve been trying. Really trying. The kid isn’t so bad, and more times than not, I enjoy spending time with him. It’s just not how I imagined things at all. I never even wanted kids until I had your attention, and you’re the only one I ever wanted children with. However, things are what they are, and I do my best to make him happy. Even if you weren’t in the picture, I know what it’s like to have shitty parents.

You were right in saying that my carelessness isn’t his fault.

So, I take him to ball games, I try to care about how he does in school (even though I didn’t care about school, at all), I bring him to work and show him what might be his one day, I call when I’m not around, I don’t yell at him when cries (like my fucking mother did), and I try to control my temper around him. So far, he’s a pretty evened out kid, and I won’t be responsible for fucking him up.

“He’s asleep now,” Marta smiles at me as she makes her way down the stairs. “He had a great day, Ransom. Thanks for the surprise trip to the museum.”

“Yeah well, he’s my son too,” I shrug as I get up. “I’ll be back next weekend to pick him up-”

“Stay. We can talk, watch a movie-”

“Marta, don’t. Nothing has changed between us, it’s the same as they’ve always been.”

“She barely even looked at you today, Ransom.”

“That doesn’t mean I fell in love with you.”

“Ransom-”

“You got your revenge, Marta. I don’t know what the hell else you want from me. I help you raise our child, you and your family are still taken care of, I keep you looped into everything that happens with the publishing company-”

“What’s so wrong with me that you can’t even try to make it work, Ransom?”

“You’re just not her, Marta. That’s not meant to hurt you. That’s not to make you feel small, and I don’t want to argue. I have loved Y/N since kindergarten and it’s only grown over time. Yeah, I’m an asshole, that’s not lost on anyone, but I do truly love Y/N. You made sure to kill any chance of that relationship turning into something real, so you win. At the end of the day, you win. I’ll see you next weekend,” I nod before making my way out, leaving Marta heartbroken once again.

~~

taglist: @emerald-evans​, @maroonsunrise83​, @nomadstucky​, @autumnrose40​, @fuckingbye​, @companionjones​, @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​, @mazda098​, @pono-pura-vida​

[birgittesilverbae]

gone off the deep end

"What I was going to say," Beatrice replies all in a rush, anxious at the way Ava's tone had dipped towards sorrow at the end of her sentence, "is that there are lessons at the pool on weekday mornings." "Oh! Dope!" Ava grins. "Sign me the fuck up!"

for @random-french-girl

read on AO3

//

They can see one corner of the local pool from the window of their tiny apartment. On days when the wind is low and the streets fall especially quiet, Beatrice can just make out the faintest strains of children screeching and crowing as they cavort in the water. 

She doesn't pay much heed. When they train at the lakeside, she often takes the opportunity to go for a dip, but that's when she knows Ava is nearby, when she knows there's no one else close enough to trouble them. When she feels like she can let her guard down.

One of those days, she raises the possibility that the Halo might allow Ava to run on water, and Ava's mouth twists. 

"I can't swim."

Beatrice feels stupid to not have thought of that, to have assumed so carelessly, to not have considered that swimming was a skill just like any other. 

"Would you like to learn?"

Ava's smile is brilliant. "Would you teach me?"

Again, a step behind. Should have realised this request would follow. Can't not think about her hands on Ava's hips, guiding Ava's limbs, shifting and correcting. Her face burns. She dips under the water to collect herself, pushes her hair back and ties it into a ponytail before surfacing. Ava's eyes are locked on her. Enviously, she assumes. 

She remembers the flyer she'd seen on the corkboard at the bar. "I don't know that we should carve out training time for it, given how unlikely it is that it would prove useful against Adriel-"

"I mean, I was fully expecting his next attacks to feature sharks with frickin' laser beams attached to their heads, but if you say so."

Beatrice can't help but give her a fond smile. "Sea bass would be more likely, I should think."

"Only if they're ill-tempered, though."

"Of course," she concedes with a tip of her head. "But, as I was saying, between the bar and our training I don't know when I'd be able to find time to teach you." 

"You can just say you don't want to," Ava says easily, rising and stretching her arms. She tips her head back into the sun and Beatrice can't quite make out the expression on her face. "I'll understand. I know it's not exactly high on the things-we-need-to-do-to-save-the-world list." 

"What I was going to say," Beatrice replies all in a rush, anxious at the way Ava's tone had dipped towards sorrow at the end of her sentence, "is that there are lessons at the pool on weekday mornings."

"Oh! Dope!" Ava grins. "Sign me the fuck up!"

//

The next morning, Beatrice heads for the poolside bleachers with a stack of paperwork and a burgeoning headache. The pool supervisor – Marta, mid 40s, born and raised in the village, two school-aged children – had been deeply apologetic about not being able to fit in an adult lesson on such short notice, but Beatrice had promised. And so Ava lines up outside the pool gate in a rashguard and board shorts, surrounded by twenty-odd children of various ages. 

Ava had grinned at her and made pincers with her hands when Beatrice had told her she'd been signed up for the Crab level. Now, with Ava sitting cross-legged between a pair of girls who can't be older than five, gazing attentively up at her instructor – Bridget, early 20s, German university student on break – Beatrice can't help but wonder if that enthusiasm has waned at all.

But Ava's smile doesn't seem to have faltered, not when Beatrice glances up to find her playing rochambeau with a small boy over first rights to the instructor's help with their back float, not when she's catching a girl who's slipped from the edge of the tot dock around the waist and setting her back up on her feet, not even when the instructor is shaking her head and correcting Ava's posture as she attempts a front glide. The tension in Beatrice's shoulders eases more and more as the half hour lesson progresses, until she's almost smiling herself as Ava bounds out of the pool enclosure with a boy sitting on her shoulders.

Ava pulls up in front of Beatrice and swings the boy down to the ground, crouching to give him a high five. "Great class, Matty," she says, and it might be the lightest she's sounded in the time Beatrice has known her. "Go find your papa!"

Matty runs off towards a man seated further down the bleachers and Ava turns to Beatrice, beaming. "Did you see, Bea? I floated!"

"I saw, Ava," she confirms, packing her papers away into her bag and rising. "Well done."

Ava wriggles gleefully at the praise. She spends the walk home chattering on about her instructor, her classmates, the way Matty's afraid to blow bubbles but fearless when it comes to launching himself off the diving board.

"He reminds me of Diego," Ava comments mid-sentence, carrying on before Beatrice has a chance to interrogate the point further. She makes a mental note to follow up even as Ava barrels forward. "Daniel" – 18, Marta's nephew, working to save up for art school – "says I'm gonna be in the next level of classes tomorrow. Outpacing the competition, Bea!"

"It's not a competition. And if it were, they're literal children."

//

"Wear your swimsuit under your training kit today," Beatrice calls to Ava from the bathroom a week and a half later.

Ava's cheer echoes through the apartment. "Bea!" she crows, smacking excitedly up against the other side of the door like a moth trapped inside a lampshade. Beatrice is so, so, so thankful that Ava appears to have finally learned the extent of her boundaries, her need for privacy, and not phased directly into the room. "You mean it?"

"Yes, Ava. You passed your swim to survive standards the other day, correct?"

"Yep! Front roll into the water" – true – "fifty metre swim" – doggy paddle did count for that, she'd double checked the documentation – "two minutes treading water" – two minutes looking like she'd been actively drowning, but yes. "You're serious, Bea? We get to swim in the lake today?"

"If we get everything else I have planned done, then yes."

Training goes more smoothly than it has in weeks, Ava all but vibrating in place but still dialed in, eyes locked on Beatrice. Beatrice has barely formed the words "that's all for today" when Ava is barreling past her towards the edge of the lake, pulling her training top over her head as she goes.

Oh.

Ava's been wearing a rashguard to the pool as a concession to Beatrice's concerns about exposing the Halo. Now, though, when it's just the two of them? She's in a red bikini top, and shimmying her shorts down to reveal matching bottoms. 

Beatrice watches closely as Ava reaches out a tentative toe to touch the water's edge. One moment can be all the difference between swimming and drowning, and so she keeps her eyes glued to Ava's form. 

"It's colder than I expected," Ava calls back to her, but then she's shrugging and flinging herself forward into the water.  

"Ava!" Beatrice yelps, crossing the clearing with quick strides and divesting herself of her singlet. "Be more cautious, please." She shucks her shorts off, down to just her racerback one piece suit, and steps in after Ava. 

"Sorry, got a bit excited!" Ava beams up at her from where she's flat on her back in the shallows, water lapping up over her chest. Ava reaches out a hand and Beatrice boosts her back to her feet, steadies her with a hand at the small of her back when she stumbles into Beatrice's side. The skin beneath her palm has been only faintly chilled by the submersion, the warmth of exertion peeking through, and Beatrice draws her hand away quickly. 

"What would you like to do?" she asks, wading further in and turning to keep Ava in her line of vision.

"Just experience it with you today, I think," Ava replies. Her voice has gone soft, and she follows Beatrice like she's being drawn along by a magnet. "I thought it would be like the pool, but it's not."

Beatrice nods her understanding – it is, after all, categorically different – but Ava's smiling at her like she knows exactly where Beatrice's head has gone and the degree to which Beatrice has misunderstood her point.

"The water feels different on my skin." They're deep enough now that the water has climbed over Ava's hips, and she catches up a handful and lets it slip back through her fingers. "It's softer, somehow?"

"No chlorine."

"Right, of course. Smells different, too, though that's probably the chlorine as well, yeah?"

Beatrice nods, keeps pacing backwards as Ava advances towards her. "And the water pumps. The lake doesn't really have much water movement, so things get stagnant."

Ava hums her acknowledgement. "I lake it here a lot," she admits, tipping her face up towards the sun.

Beatrice will claim in the aftermath that the splash is a pure instinctive response to the terrible pun. In reality, though, Ava's smile is broad and Beatrice isn't quite sure what she might say she "lakes" next, and so she cocks an arm back and sweeps a wave of water into Ava's face.

Ava surfaces spluttering, water streaming down her face and off her chin. "You're diving me crazy," she laughs, lunging forward to grab for Beatrice's outstretched hand. Beatrice recognises the first motions of a hold she'd taught Ava the week before, counters easily. This too is instinct, only she has severely miscalculated. 

Her front is flush against Ava's bare back, one arm securing Ava's, the other hooked around her neck. They hold there a moment, Beatrice's cheek pressed to Ava's, their mingled breaths coming in unison, every patch of skin burning hot where it touches Ava's. Beatrice tries to make her limbs cooperate, tries to release the hold and back away, but–

Her stomach roils as she's flipped forward. Her back impacts the water hard, knocking all the air from her lungs, and she swallows a mouthful of water for her sins. She lets her head fall back as she transitions into a float, and shades her eyes with a shaking hand.

"I think," she says, voice kept level through as much restraint as she can muster, "that maybe separating swimming from training was the correct choice."

Ava falls back beside her, rocking Beatrice's body with the waves of her motion. "Waterver floats your boat," she replies with a happy sigh.

"Just go with the float," Beatrice agrees, and she's as buoyed by Ava's answering laugh as she is by the water.

[themaninyourcomputer]

Ranking every song in Spring Awakening

(Feel free to correct me, I had a hard time choosing favorites.)

1. Don't do sadness/blue wind

My god. I have no words. The way Moritz contains his rage at first, and then finally lets it out during the chorus. Ilse's vocals, the color metaphors. This song is so cathartic, both to listen to and to sing. All of Mortiz's pent up frustration is released, and it's spectacular. I have never related more to a song in my life. (This is actually the song that got me into Spring Awakening, I heard it and was like "who is this man and why does he want to be a little butterfly?")

2. left behind

This is the song that always makes me tear up. Every time without fail. Also the cabaret version where Jonathan Groff starts crying??? I was in shambles, shambles I tell you.

3. Touch me

Such a good song. It's so..wow oh my god?? Everyone sounds so good, and when Otto comes in it's just...wow. Also, so fun to sing.

4. The dark I know well

I mean, what do I even say here? This song is phenomenal. I love how you can feel the anger seething out of every word that Ilse and Marta sing.

5. And then there were none

This is when we really begin to see Moritz unravel, and it's fantastic. You can literally pinpoint the exact moment that Moritz decides to kill himself. ("Another day of utter shit...and then there were none." That's it, that subtle change in tone between the two lines. That little pause: you can hear the resolve settle into his voice. Ouch, man.)

6. The bitch of living

There are only so many ways I can phrase "good song" but yeah, good song. Poor Mortiz.

7. The word of your body (reprise)

Honestly? I prefer the vocals in the reprise over the original version. I adore both though.

8. Mama Who Bore Me (reprise)

Listen to those harmonies, dear lord that's breathtaking. But...why bongos?

9. Those you've known

Heartbreaking. I love how hollow Moritz and Wendla sound, like ghosts. Only shells of the actual characters (which I think is the point).

10. The word of your body

It's good, I love how (and this is the case for a lot of songs in this musical) it is deceptively innocent. It's so pure in its discussion of lust, which is sort of beautiful. This song is haunting and deserves more appreciation.

11. Totally fucked

Overrated, but not awful. The Tony Awards performance where they censor themselves by comically slapping their hands over their mouths makes me giggle.

12. Whispering

This is a hot take, I know. I just feel like this should have been Wendla's moment, you know? It should have been devastating, it should have been emotional! I was, however, not devastated. I was slightly bored, actually. This song could be so much better. I dislike how much the diologue breaks it up. (I know Don't Do Sadness is also mixed with diologue, but unlike in Whispering it makes the song feel more intimate and creates more of an emotional buildup. In Whispering it just kind of...interrupts the song.)

13. The Guilty One's

It's a slow song, sure, but listen to those harmonies bro. I'm ranking it lower on the list because there are better songs but just know that I actually like this one a lot. I love Lea Michele's voice here, it's so soft.

14. The song of purple summer.

It's just okay. I understand its narrative purpose, but honestly there should have been another reprise or just like, a callback to an earlier song at the end. That would have made it feel more cyclical. It's a strong song though, I don't dislike it. (The ending is great, I don't want to be too harsh on Purple Summer. I love the metephors ((blue + red and summer rather than spring)))

15. All that's known

The intro is so good, solid melody. It's just kind of background noise though.

16. The mirror-blue night

I love this song, but the build-up to the good part is so fucking long. Also why is Melchior doing an interpretive dance?? I mean, I guess we all cope in our own ways?

17. Mama who bore me

Perfect for an opening number, it builds anticipation, and it's a great tone setter. It's just kind of boring on its own.

18. My Junk

Stupid lyrics, stupid song (the dialogue is hilarious, but the song itself is not that good)

19. I believe

I am literally so bored. I love the ending, but I always skip it when listening to the album.

[armed-and-alxne]

Wanda could hear the sound of two voices as she made her way down the corridor towards the common room. One she could recognise as Luther, the other was a stranger, which instantly had her back up. Peering into the room, she definitely got a bad feeling, seeing how Luther seemed to be standing. Something was different about this man. Without another thought, she made her way into the room, wearing a fake smile so as to not freak either out. “Hey Lu, who’s this?”

How the freakin’ hell did he find his way in here? For all of Tony Stark’s high tech security, apparently a careless dolt like Irwin could still just walk right the hell in. He’d been there in the common room, lounging on one of the couches like an idiot, when Luther had gotten back from training. “What the fuck is this?” Luther said stopping and looking at him.

Irwin grinned and stood from the couch. “Well, it’s nice to see you too, Luther. Funny way to greet an old friend, though.”

“You’re not my friend. What are you doin’ here?” he asked.

“I just came to see if it was true. That you’d become... a superhero,” he said mockingly before laughing. “If that doesn’t beat all. I’m a little disappointed to see you not wearing tights and a cape, I have to say.”

“Get out,” Luther said, unamused.

“Why? We’re just barely getting started here,” Irwin said.

“You do know you could be shot on sight for breaking into what I’m pretty sure qualifies as a government building, right?” Luther asked.

“I didn’t break in, I walked in,” Irwin said. “You aren’t the only one who knows how to bypass security systems. This one was a doozy, but... every system has its own secret handshake if you know where to look.”

He talked too much, and Luther was tired of hearing it. 

“Besides... what are you going to do? Call for help? That wouldn’t be a good look for a superhero not to handle his own business, now, would it?” Irwin taunted.

“No, I’ll just kill you myself,” Luther said, drawing his pistol and pointing it at Irwin.

He laughed. “No, you won’t. You’re still wetting the bed over what you did to Evan. You’ll never kill anyone ever again. And come on, you wouldn’t do that to Marta, would you? You already killed her husband. You gonna kill her baby brother too?”

Luther’s jaw jutted to the side and he lowered the gun. Irwin was right... about all of it.

“That’s better. Now be a good boy and let’s you and me have a nice, civilized conversation, shall we?” he said, loving every minute of this.

“Too late,” Luther said darkly. But then the unthinkable occurred. As he heard Wanda’s voice behind him, Luther turned to see her coming down the corridor. Shit.

“Hey, little lady...” Irwin said, already looking Wanda up and down.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Luther warned.

Irwin’s grin widened knowingly as he looked between Luther and Wanda. “Oh... Ohh, really? You got yourself a girlfriend? Wow, you forgot about my sister real fast, didn’t you? She’s cute!” he said. Turning to Wanda, he attempted to act like nothing was wrong at all. “Name’s Irwin Petrov. I’m an old friend of Luther’s. We’re practically brothers, except not, because he was born in a gutter...”

“We’re not friends, Irwin. We never were. And we’re definitely not brothers,” Luther said.

“He’s a little cranky today,” Irwin said, winking at Wanda before turning back to Luther. “So uh... is she one too? A superhero, I mean? What does she do, shoot lasers from her eyes or something?” he said with a condescending chuckle.

“Okay,” Luther said, unable to hold himself back anymore.

“Careful, Luther,” Irwin warned, lifting up his cell phone. Marta’s just a phone call away. I’m sure she’d love to hear that you’re still attacking her family after shamefully avoiding a prison sentence that you deserved.”

That stopped him again. With fists clenched and his heart pounding, he glanced at Wanda. “Wanda, get out of here. Go on,” he said, trying to protect her.

“He wants you to pay, Luther,” Irwin said, now deathly serious with all joking set aside. “Dad’s sitting in jail for a crime you committed. You owe him your life... with interest... for everything he’s handed you over the years... and now he’s sent me to collect payment on your bill.”

[princessphilly]

Word count: 5627

Tag list:  @ohpuckyeah, @joelsfarabee, @besthockeyfics. @dreamer1430 @Defiant-Mouse @miracleonice87 @lovethepreds @linkingdolans @chicagostylehockey @heatherlcrosby87 @hockeywocs @shortstacks-blog @heatherawoowoo @newlibrary @markymarkstrom @iangiemae @puckbitchesgetmoney @missymore @himbos-on-ice @fiveholegoal @no-pucks-given @pagirl6866 @willieshakesqueer @nazdaddy @whatishockey @alphalib22 @romanseggy @laurenairay @texanstarslove @konecny-s @cutiesara23 @myhockeyworld87 @extratragic @squidlywiddly87 @stuff4me2do​ @allinangel93 @mydarkestsecretlol​

CW: angst, meeting the family, references to the n-word, people sucking

I decided to go ahead and finish it when I got a sudden burst of creativity when I came home.

*

Nina snuggled in bed, a happy little sigh leaving her lips. Sidney looked at her, a fond smile on his face. It had been a month since they were back together and life was almost perfect. Well, they were 6-3-2, 14 points earned which was okay but not where Sidney wanted the team to be. It was still early in the season, it was mid-November so there was plenty of time to right the ship. He and the boys would fix it. Sidney sighed before attempting to try to go back to sleep. However, he heard the sound of a door opening and he sat up, pushing the covers down inadvertently. 

Sidney racked his brain. It was Sunday, Marta, his housekeeper’s day off. Mario or Nathalie would have called before coming over. He had no idea who the hell it could be. “Fuck,” Sidney breathed. There were only two people who would do a surprise visit and one of them was a week earlier for the Moms trip. 

Lightly brushing his fingers over Nina’s side, Sidney urged, “Pretty girl, wake up.”

It was roughly 8am so it wasn’t hard to get Nina, an early riser by nature to wake up. “Urgh, mawning,” Nina mumbled as she cracked open her eyes. Sidney looked anxious and agitated which made Nina focus. 

Sidney opened his mouth, then closed it. If he was right, he was fucked and his pretty girl was probably going to run away screaming. He finally said, “Um, someone just opened the door and there are exactly five people other than me who have a key. There are two who’d do a surprise visit.”

Looking down, Nina was thankful that she had on one of Sidney’s shirts and shorts while sleeping. “Well, fuck, at least I’m not naked,” she said pointedly. Sidney had the grace to blush as Nina continued, “If it’s what you think it is, you need to get that under control,” pointing at his rather obvious morning wood. Sidney pulled the covers back over himself and Nina

Then a voice called out, “Morming, Sid!”

Sidney sighed in relief. It was Taylor, not his mom. Nina noticed it and arched an eyebrow. “Eh, it’s my sister, pretty girl.”

“Shit,” Nina fretted. This was going to be awkward, she didn’t even know if she wanted to meet his family but now, she was going to,have to. At least it was a sister.

The door creaked open and a blonde-haired head peeked in. “Boo,” Taylor said. Then her eyes perked when she saw who Sidney was with. 

Nina groaned. Her hair was in a scarf, it was obvious she slept over and fuck, fuck, fuck. A devious smile spread on Taylor’s face. “Nice to see that you finally let a girlfriend sleep in your room, Sidney.”

“Shut the fuck up, Taylor,” Sidney yelled as his little sister giggled before closing the door.

Nina facepalmed. “That was fun. Fun fun fun.”

Rolling onto her front, Nina mumbled, “I’m not ready to meet your family.”

“I’ve already met yours,” Sidney reasoned. 

“That was because Yanni was part of your Lil Penguins program. That was work related for you, doesn’t count.”

Trailing his fingers down Nina’s back, Sidney replied, “True but, it still counts. What are you doing next weekend?”

“I’m going to be in Philly for a wedding.”

Nina turned onto her left side, facing Sidney. Sidney sucked his bottom lip into his mouth before letting it go. “Don’t get any ideas.”

She slipped off the bed, pulling the scarf off her braids, letting them fall down her back. Rummaging through her clothes on the floor, Nina pulled out her bra. Pulling her shirt off, she put it on to the sound of Sidney’s groans. Nina rolled her eyes. “I’m stuck having to meet your sister because she decided to give you a surprise visit. I’m not meeting her without wearing a bra.”

“But you look so amazing without one,” Sidney replied. 

 Nina shook her head before leaving his bedroom. Making her way to the kitchen, Nina literally bumped into Taylor. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Nina gasped. 

“I’m okay,” Taylor reassured Nina, taking the moment to check out this girl that Sidney was now seeing. She wasn’t exactly what Taylor was expecting but one thing that Taylor liked about Nina was that she had kind eyes. Taylor had heard about her over the years, especially that Nina had kept rejecting Sidney. Her brother rarely heard the word no so that made Nina intriguing to her. 

Taylor offered, “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No, and I’m hungry.”

Opening the fridge, Taylor took out the ingredients to make omelets. Nina sat at the island, a pensive look on her face. “You know, I totally didn’t expect to meet you this way. This is awkward as fuck.”

“Eh, don’t feel bad, I should have given Sid a heads up,” Taylor replied. “Plus, I’ve heard about you over the years.”

“Oh really?”

Taylor laughed as she cracked eggs. “Sidney couldn’t shut up about you. First it was he met this nice girl at work. Then, it was that you kept telling him no and he was confused. Later, he was beating himself up because he managed to fuck up before he could even ask you out. I really enjoyed that, I liked that you kept not only telling him no but when he pissed you off, you didn’t forgive him right away. I love my brother but his ego needs to get cut down sometimes.”

“True, he has a huge ego. He needs to take himself less seriously,” Nina concurred. “But it’s probably impossible to get him to do that.”

Taylor shrugged, pursing her lips. “At least he means well,” Nina added. 

Nodding, Taylor replied, “He does mean well, most of the time.”

“Already ganging up on me?”

They both laughed as Sidney entered the kitchen. “Why are you here, Taylor?”

“I went on a camping trip and I decided to be nosy and visit my big brother before heading home,” Taylor chirped. “The look on your face was worth it.”

“Hahaha. Should’ve called,” Sidney grumbled. 

Taylor quipped, “Oh, did I ruin your morning sex plans? I’m so sorry.”

Nina snorted as she laughed. Sidney gave her hurt eyes and Nina blew him a kiss. 

“Don’t worry Sid, I’m not staying long. Just enough to rest and then get back on the road,” Taylor said. 

“You drove,” Nina asked. Sidney was now standing right behind her and she could feel his hands massaging her shoulders. 

Taylor nodded as she flipped the first omelet. “You’re not what I expected, Nina. You’re way too pretty for a hockey player like my brother.”

Sidney wanted to kill his little sister as she continued to chirp him. Well, not only chirp him but ruin his planned lazy morning sex. But as he watched his sister and Nina interact playfully, Sidney could admit there was a slight good point. Taylor and Nina were hitting it off and Sidney knew that Nina would meet his family soon. This was a good sign. 

**

However, after practice four days later, Sidney was wishing his sister had never stopped by. Nina had been incredibly busy all week and Sidney knew he wouldn’t see her until next week due to her trip out of town. He was feeling extra irritable and hearing his name over the tv didn’t help. 

“So, two weeks ago, Sidney Crosby admitted that he was having relationship issues that were affecting him on the ice.”

Tanger went to change the channel on the tv in the lounge, muttering, “Fucking ESPN.”

“Shh, keep it on,” Sidney urged, crossing his arms over his chest. He wanted to see what kind of bullshit ESPN was saying now.

A couple of the guys stopped to check out the TV. Kevin Neghandi laughed as he responded, “Yeah, he admitted that after breaking a slump. Ever since, he’s been on a 2 point-per-game streak. But this really isn’t about him.”

“Huh,” said Geno, scratching his head.

Buccigross continued, “There was a picture of Crosby and his girlfriend posted on the internet, a nice picture. Someone posted it and made a derogatory statement about his girlfriend, Nina Jackson. This player is a player for Clemson.”

Neghandi laughed again. “Ms. Jackson has a younger brother named Jason Jackson. He was also the number 20 prospect, number 1, 5 star tight end. He also now plays for UNC.”

Sidney chuckled as he realized exactly where this was going. The guy on the tv continued, “Clemson and UNC had the rare Thursday night game last night. #1 Clemson went to the Tar Heels, ranked #22 and got spanked, 56-30. Jason Jackson had 10 catches, 200 yards receiving, and 3 TDs. His response in the postgame.”

The tv showed a clip of Jason talking to the media. A reporter asked, “What inspired you to have such a big game tonight.”

“Lowell decided he needed to talk about my sister on the gram so I had to put him in his place,” Jason drawled.

Sidney’s phone buzzed and it was a message from Nina. my brother is so dramatic 🙄

Nice to know he’ll always have your back, Sidney sent Nina. 

**

Nina smiled happily as she looked at the Thai food on plate. She was so hungry and excited to see Jamila face to face in person for lunch. Her friend looked more vibrant than usual, as life was treating her good. They made small talk until Jamila said, “I heard something about you, that you aren’t single for the first time in forever.”

“Oh really?”

Jamila looked at her best friend. “You’re dating Mayo boy.”

“What?!?” Perplexed, Nina stared at Jamila while Jamila rolled her eyes. 

“Sidney Crosby is like Mayo. Super white. Damn, my dating habits really did rub off on you. Welcome to being a basic bitch like me.”

It was Nina’s turn to roll her eyes. “Stop being so fucking dramatic, Jamila Brown.”

“I was an actress, I’m supposed to be dramatic. Tell Mayo boy if he ever breaks your heart, I’ll kill and cremate whatever’s left of him after your father and brother are finished with him.”

“Are you really gonna nickname him that?”

Jamila smirked at Nina and Nina sighed. Shrugging elegantly, Jamila replied, “I’m a part of Philly sports Twitter. I got lots of other names I could call him.

“Be a bigger bitch, Mila.”

“He gets a better nickname when he lets you fully run his pockets. And don’t give me that look, don’t be afraid of being called a gold digger. They are probably calling you worse names. Make Mayo boy run that card up when he takes you on baecation. Once that happens, I’ll upgrade his nickname.”

Nina sighed as she looked at the menu. Jamila reached out and put her hand out, covering Nina’s menu. “You know I’m just playing, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about it now, let’s talk about Toyin’s wedding instead,” Nina murmured. 

It was Jamila’s turn to sigh. “I’m sorry, Nina. I’m sorry for being a bitch. I shouldn’t be taking out my bad mood on you. I hate men.”

“Not forgiven yet,” Nina snarked. 

Jamila looked pensive as she said, “I like this guy but I don’t want to admit I like him. He’s like too perfect, too nice, well not that nice. He actually gives a fuck.”

“Let me guess, you’re scared and about to do something super stupid,” Nina dryly replied.

Jamila gave Nina a shocked look before she slumped in her chair. “I don’t want to,” she pouted. 

Nina reasoned, “Then don’t. Just ride it out for once.”

“Easy for you to say,” Jamila replied. 

Nina shrugged as her phone buzzed. It was a message from Sid, well really just a picture of him sweaty post-practice. Nina left him on read, she would get him back later for that. “Stop being stupid, and stop self-sabotaging.”

Jamila rolled her eyes as she ate her food. After swallowing, she arched an eyebrow. “Mayo boy sent you a message?”

“Yeah, but I’m focusing on you. I’ll see him next week… and his parents.”

“This is going fast,” Jamila commented. 

Nina bit her lip before saying, “I guess he had to wait eighty-four years, I mean five years, so he’s going to take advantage while they are in town.”

“Interesting.”

Nina pointed out, “At least I’m giving my relationships a chance, unlike you.”

“Fuck you.” 

Jamila gave Nina an exaggerated nasty look as Nina quipped, “I’m strictly dickly, bitch.”

The conversation switched to safer topics. However, throughout the wedding weekend, Nina had the thought in the back of her mind that maybe things were going a bit too fast. 

**

“Well, Taylor says she likes her. I checked out her instagram account and she doesn’t even mention you. Lots of nice vacation pictures though.”

Sidney looked at his mom from across the table. Trina had a pensive look on her face. Troy raised his eyebrows before leaning back in his chair. 

Sidney reasoned, “I want you two to meet her. Give her a chance. Nina is amazing, I’m lucky that she even likes me.”

“Why wouldn’t she like you, you’re Sidney Crosby,” Trina scoffed. 

Sidney shrugged. “Nina’s a PhD student and everything. It hasn’t been easy for her either.”

“Interesting,” Trina said. 

Nina herself was feeling extra nervous. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to meet Sidney’s parents, especially after having to turn in a huge paper and part of her thesis to her advisor. But, as she shook her head and smoothed down her shirt, they were in town and she was going to try to make her best impression.

Midway through dinner, Nina began to wish she was somewhere else on this Friday night. While Troy, Sidney’s dad, seemed nice, it felt like Trina was judging every single thing she did. Every reply Trina made to Nina’s questions was in a dry voice, as if it was boring her. Nina felt a bit discouraged. Sidney obviously loved his parents but it felt like his mother didn’t like her. 

On the other hand, Trina felt like Nina was looking down on them. It seemed like she was mentioning her PhD program, her thesis, like she was too smart for them and her boy. Trina sipped her water as there was a pause. She didn’t know about this girl but at least, every time she looked at Sidney, Trina could see the stars and hearts in her eyes.

Nina looked at Sidney, her palms sweating. She didn’t know what to say as she looked down at her plate. Her appetite was gone. Sidney, himself, didn’t really notice anything as he answered his father’s questions about the beginning of the season. Then Troy turned to Nina. 

“So what do you plan to do now that you’re with Sidney,” Troy casually asked.

Nina replied, “I have about two more years left before I finish earning my PhD. I plan to continue to work and I may teach a class or two.”

“You still plan to work,” Trina asked.

Nina nodded. “Yes. I love what I do and I’m not wasting my degrees.”

“Why do you want to work?”

Nina could tell that Trina intended that question to be light but Nina could still feel the claws. She was tired of this passive-aggressive bullshit and ready to curse her out. But Nina couldn’t so she measured her words carefully. “I did four years of undergrad, three years of school for my doctors in physical therapy, and I will do four more years for my doctorate. Why would I stop working after earning my degrees?”

Trina paused; she had expected some trite, suck-up answer. But it seemed like Nina was serious. “I would think that if you were with my son, you’d rather not work.”

“I’m not built to be a housewife.” Nina laughed. “I love what I do and if I’m expected to stop for Sidney, then maybe I need to reevaluate some things.”

Trina felt like she lost control of this conversation. All she wanted was to see what kind of user her boy’s dream girl was. Now, she had the feeling that her son was going to get dumped and it was going to be her fault.

Sidney laughed. “I don’t expect you to be a housewife. You would be so bored if you were.”

Nina flashed Sidney a quick grin before adding, “Nathalie has let me know the responsibilities though. I’ve done lots of volunteer and charity work over the years so that isn’t new at all. I’m excited about the toy drive, I remember when my parents just got out of the army and cash was tight. I got my favorite doll as a kid from a toy drive.”

“That’s nice,” Trina said. Maybe this Nina girl wasn’t completely stuck up, she thought as the night continued. After a couple of hours, Nina said her goodbyes. It was getting late and she was spending the morning taking her little sister to volleyball practice. After she left, Trina let out a sigh as Sidney turned to her.

“You have to lay off on Nina, Mom.”

Trina turned to look at her son. Sidney was giving her his most serious look and she sighed. 

“I like her but I don’t know if she’s the one for you, Sid. It seems like she’s one step from leaving you,” Trina said. “I don’t see her sticking with you if things go bad.”

“Just because she plans to work?” 

Sidney gave his mother an assessing look. He knew she meant well but this wasn’t for her to decide. “This isn’t your problem.”

“Fine, I like that she has her own life. She’s not obsessed with you and she plans to be her own person,” Trina conceded. “But she’s different.”

He knew this was going to be hard, asking his mom to back off but Sidney knew he had to do it. Nina hadn’t said anything last night but Sidney could sense that she was tired of how his mother was acting. Sidney also knew that if Nina decided to cut ties, it would be completely over. Sidney started, “Compared to Nina, I’m a dumb hockey player. But what I have with her, I’ve never found with anyone else. If you have a problem with that, that’s you. But be civil to Nina.”

“Really, Sidney Patrick Crosby,” Trina said, incredulous. But the look on her son’s face was something she had never seen before. Even though she didn’t believe her son would really pick any woman over her, a voice at the back of her mind told her that if Sidney ever did, this would be the woman he’d pick over her.

**

It was Saturday night and Nina pasted another smile on her face. If Trina got snide again, Nina didn’t know if she could be nice about it. But at least they were in public. As they sat down for dinner, a couple of guys came up. Sidney and his family had perfect PR smiles but the guys stopped in front of Nina.

“Hey, aren’t you Jason Jackson’s sister?”

Nina grinned. “Yes.”

“Why did he have to have such a great game against Pitt today? He killed them,” one of the guys said.

Nina shrugged. “Pitt should play better defense.”

After the guys left, Troy asked, “your brother plays college football?”

“Yup. He was the top prospect in Pennsylvania last season. Games on tv and everything.”

“I didn’t know that,” Sidney murmured.

Nina giggled as she replied, “All you do is eat, sleep, and breathe hockey.”

Sidney blushed as everyone laughed at that statement. However, through the night, more people came by the table to give Nina props for her brother’s monster game than to try to get a glimpse of Sidney. Jason had 184 yards receiving and 2 TDs for UNC today and there was already buzz about Jason being on the fast track to the NFL. During a lull, Trina stated, “You must get asked about your brother a lot.”

“I’m used to it. Once ESPN comes to your brother’s games when he was a sophomore in high school, you have to get used to it,” Nina said with a shrug. “I’m old enough that it really doesn’t bother me.”

“How does your brother deal with it,” Sidney asked, curious as he remembered some of his early experiences with fame. 

Nina replied, “College football is a different beast than the pros. So, he’s on scholarship and his days are pretty much regimented with meetings, practice, classes, more meetings, video study. I ran track when I was in undergrad so my experience was slightly similar. Main difference is that Jase gets paid for his likeness in video games now and a percentage of any jersey sales with his name and number.”

“You ran track,” Troy asked. Unlike his wife, he felt a bit more open towards Nina. It was obvious that she didn’t need Sidney for anything and Troy could see that his son was able to relax in a way with Nina that he hadn’t been able to relax with a woman before. 

“I had a partial scholarship. I ran the 4x100 relay and the 100 meters. I didn’t have the athletic ability to race for a living but I did decent,” Nina stated, feeling a bit shy. It had been a long time since she even talked about her track career. “I was state champ my senior year and my team won silver at the Penn Relays my sophomore and junior years of college. Now, I just run to stay in shape.”

“Wow,” Sidney said, impressed. “Sounds like you loved it though.”

Nina flashed Sidney a grin. “I did, I love running. What most people forget is that you can’t just run for health, you have to run and do strength training and yoga or Pilates.” 

“Have you been to any of your brother’s games,” Troy asked. “Seems like they are doing well.”

Nina replied, “We went to the season opener. I will never go to North Carolina in August ever again if I can help it. I’m going to their game next weekend at Virginia Tech. We’ll probably go to the bowl game since my little sister will be off school that week.”

“Seems like you stay busy,” Trina mused. 

Nina couldn’t help a little glare as she managed to say without malice, “I plan my calendar in advance.”

Trina said, “That sounds good. You have a life outside of everything.”

“And I will continue to have a life outside of everything,” Nina said with a syrup-sweet smile.

**

Nina quietly washed her hands, glancing up to the mirror. Trina was looking down on her hands as she washed hers. Tentatively, Nina asked, “Are you having a good time on this trip?”

“I enjoyed the Moms’ trip,” Trina replied. 

Nina looked down at her hands as she dried them. This was so awkward and she wanted to cry. 

“Sidney Crosby is here, and so are his parents,” somebody exclaimed just outside the ladies bathroom. Trina and Nina both shared a look until another person said, “And his n-word girlfriend is here with them too.”

Nina opened her mouth but Trina put up a finger. The second person continued, “His mom doesn't look too happy with that black girl. Maybe you could get a chance, finally.”

The door opener and the two women came in, laughing. The laughter stopped when those women saw Nina and Trina. 

“You don’t have to worry about getting a chance with my son because there’s no way I’d let him be with someone like you when he’s with a lady like Nina,” Trina stated. 

The two women shared a look but Trina stared them down until they left. Nina let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “No wonder my son is always saying that it hasn’t been easy for you,” Trina offered. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they get kicked out.”

Nina sniffled as she said, “That’s the first time I’ve heard it in person. It’s usually nasty messages online. I really, really hate it. But I guess I’m going to be stuck with this for the rest of my life.”

Impulsively, Trina reached out and grabbed Nina’s hand. “From the way that my son looks at you, nasty women like those will just have to be angry forever.”

Nina giggled as they shared a look. It felt like there was a truce and she was going to take it. After Trina talked to the manager and got those women booted, Nina definitely felt like there was definitely a truce.

**

“Don’t take anything seriously. If they don’t like you, they’ll say absolutely nothing to you. If they make jokes, they like you.”

Two weeks after meeting Sid’s family, it was his turn to meet Nina’s family. The team was home for American Thanksgiving and they didn’t have a game until Friday evening this year. So Sidney was going with Nina to meet her extended family. He was feeling extra nervous and desperate to make a good impression. 

Sidney grimaced as Nina giggled. “Plus, it’s Aryanna’s birthday so they won’t be too mean. I think.”

“Anything else I need to worry about,” Sidney asked. 

Nina reached out over the console and touched Sidney’s hand. “Relax, it’s not a game. You can’t lose.”

“But, I want them-”

Cutting Sidney off, Nina said, “I know, you want them to like you. So be the dork that you are instead of faking like you aren’t a dork.”

Sidney felt a bit insulted but Nina gave him a dazzling smile. “I like it when you’re being dorky, anyway.”

**

Sidney tried hard to follow Nina’s advice. There were so many people that he couldn’t keep them all straight so he focused on making sure he remembered the names of the older people in Nina’s family. There was Mawmaw, the family matriarch, Tracey and Vernon, Nina’s parents, Aunt Tasha who baked the sweet potato pie that he was having his third slice of, Aunt Dee, Uncle Tony, and Uncle Bashir. All of the cousins kinda blurred together but Sidney figured he’d learn their names quickly. 

Overall, he felt like everything was going well. Sidney answered everyone’s questions and he guessed his answers were good since one of Nina’s older cousins told him his new nickname was White Boy. Nina had snickered while some of the younger ones giggled. Right now, Sidney was talking to Aunt Tasha. “What would it take to get you to bake me a pie of my own,” Sidney asked. 

Tasha laughed while Tracey smirked. Tracey interjected, “Oh no, Tasha gonna be bragging about this forever. ‘Guess who came to Thanksgiving and loved my sweet potato pie? Sidney Crosby loved my sweet potato pie.’ She will never shut up!”

“Don’t be mad that you can’t bake a pie as good as me, Tracey,” Tasha chided, laughing. “Nina makes a better pie than both of us but that girl don’t wanna cook.”

Tracey smirked when she saw the look on Sidney’s face. “Oh no, Tash, now this boy gonna be begging my daughter to make him a pie.”

Everyone laughed as Nina was in a different room. Mawmaw chided, “I’m happy that one of my family don’t got to be in the kitchen like that. I wish I could’ve been the same at her age.”

Sidney decided to scroll his phone as the older women began to argue. Then he felt someone tap his shoulder.

“White boy, you wanna play spades?”

Sidney looked at this cousin of Nina. He was sitting at a table with Vernon, one of her aunts, and another cousin. “No,” he replied, shaking his head. 

The cousin got a devious grin on his face. “It’s easy, you should play for Shantara, she can’t play for shit.”

Sidney’s competitive instinct told him it was a bad idea. And from the way Vernon was eyeing him, Sidney knew he was right for shaking his head. “Nope. I’ll learn by watching.”

“Nina’s white boy smart,” Aunt Tasha hollered. “You play spades and renege, boy, someone about to go for those knees.”

“Stop torturing, Sid, Deonte,” Nina scolded as she sat in Sidney’s lap. “At least wait til the second visit before hazing him over spades.”

“I like this boy, Nini. Keep him, he’s betta than that last boy you brought here, bless his heart. Didn’t know how to talk to people,” Mawmaw advised. 

Nina wanted to die as the rest of her family snickered. Holidays: the time of the year where your greatest fuckups get rehashed for shits and giggles. 

Nafis snorted. “What’s his name... it wasn’t that Ron boy, was it? Naw, it was James’s old friend, Jordan. We all knew he wasn’t shit, I mean, nothing, when he made Tommy mad.”

Nina winced as remembered that. Tommy was one of the sweetest guys and hard to rile up, but anyone who could make cousin Tommy mad was a douchebag. 

“Her pets like him. Tess curls in his lap and Steely lets him pet him,” Vernon said. 

Everyone stared at Sidney, eyes wide. Stuttering, Aunt Tasha said, “T-t-that cat and d-dog hate every damn body other than Nini and her family. I be damned.”

Mawmaw laughed.

The rest of the dinner went without incident. But at a quiet moment, Vernon pulled Sidney from the group to a quiet spot in the yard. It was late November in Western Pennsylvania so no one else was there. 

Vernon Jackson had seen more of his fair share of crap in his life. Growing up in Ward 8 of D.C., Vernon had dodged dealers, hustlers, stick-up kids, etc. to survive. His grades weren’t great so Vernon went into the army to ensure that he escaped. Through being deployed in the Gulf War then to Mogadishu, Vernon had done his best to make sure that all his children had more than he did growing up. 

Now, his sweettart, his eldest, his sweet girl, Nina was grown. She had done more than he and Tracey combined. But looking at the man he was sure his daughter was in love with, Vernon began to wonder if he made a mistake. 

Oh, it was obvious that Sidney Crosby was in love with his daughter. But the feelings of love could fade and given his history, Vernon couldn’t trust that Crosby would do the right thing. 

So as a loving father, Vernon pulled Sidney to the side. “I just wanted to ask you something important before I give my blessing to this.”

“Yes, sir,” Sidney responded. 

“You know your children will be considered Black?”

Vernon watched Sidney’s face after asking that question. Lust and infatuation was nice but this was his little girl. The last thing he wanted was his daughter hurt because she fell for someone not just clueless but maliciously clueless about race. 

Sidney quietly replied, “I know. People will see them as Black and will think the worst of them first.”

Not bad, Vernon thought. He expected a colorblind response.

Then he heard Nina call out, “Dad? Sid? We are about to cut the cake!”

Vernon and Sid both grimaced but for different reasons. Vernon because he couldn’t really have cake because of his diabetes, Sid because cake wasn’t on his meal plan. Vernon told Sidney, “before you start making plans for rings, you need to start thinking about how you are going to start speaking up about race. Think about that.”

**

Sidney kept Vernon’s words in his mind through the week. Trina had told him what happened in the bathroom that night but Nina told him that his mom had handled it for her. But as he waited for Nina to open her door, Sidney couldn’t help but think what he could do to avoid situations like that from happening for Nina. But words failed as Nina opened the door and gave him a shy smile. 

“Hi pretty girl,” Sidney drawled as he walked in, closing the door. He hung up his coat on her coat rack before sitting on Nina’s couch.

“I missed you daddy”

“Missed you, pretty girl. Did you have fun?”

Nina straddled Sid’s thigh and replied, “it was a good time even though UNC lost. The VT campus is beautiful. How was the road trip?”

Sid laughed as Nina played with his hair. “It went well but Geno got hurt. He’ll be out for two weeks.”

“That sucks.”

Sidney hummed his assent as he wrapped an arm around Nina’s waist. He missed his pretty girl and it seemed like she missed him too. They sat there together for several quiet moments before Nina whispered, “I really missed you, daddy. It’s been too long.”

Sidney gave Nina a slow smile as she began to grind on his thigh. He felt the same way as he kissed Nina, soft and slow. Then as they broke apart, the sensual haze on Nina’s face turned into horror.  “God damn it,” she muttered. 

Sidney frantically asked, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I just felt my period show up, three days early,” Nina said, rubbing her temples. Her period was cock-blocking her after a couple weeks of no dick and she wanted to die. “I just felt cramps and as much as I’d like to slide to my knees and suck you off, it won’t happen tonight.”

Nina groaned as she closed her eyes, head down. Sidney just started to laugh. 

“Cmon, pretty girl. Let’s just watch movies tonight.”

“Movies sound good,” Nina replied, “I just refuse to watch Friends, ever.”

Sidney giggle-honked as Nina moved from straddling his thigh to curling into his lap. 

[chuckbass-love]

May I request a Ransom x Y/n fic where he goes to a pub after being taken out of the will and he see's y/n at a table crying because she's just been dumped

I love this idea!! 

A/N: Just a heads up, i’m keeping the events of the movie in this where he goes back to the house to switch the medication and then have him go to the pub after that.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad or Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lots of angst, alludes to smut at first and then pure smutty filth. Fingering, oral (m and f receiving), protected sex, daddy kink, ass slapping and fluff overload. Heavy alcohol use, swearing and alludes to murder (the plot from the movie).

Word Count: 8,770

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @roooogers go check them out💜

Shoulder To Cry On

“Please, Anthony. Please. Don’t do this” your voice shaking with the fear of losing the one person who you assumed would always be around. Your brain trying to register everything he’s just said as tears drown your vision out causing everything to go blurry. 

Weak body, silent screams and shaky hands. It’s real. But it doesn’t feel real. It feels like a dream. Like if someone were to pinch you now then you’d wake up and feel fine. But that’s far from your reality. 

“You’re making a scene Y/N, everyone’s looking” he looks around him, watching on as everyone stares in your direction, enjoying the free show as they dine. 

Is he serious? 

“Me making a scene? You chose to do this here in front of everyone, knowing full well how i’d react” the anger coming out, the need to scream consuming you, so you do. You yell. You pick the food up in front of you and throw it at him. Bread, prawns, even your red wine.

“How could you do this to me? You fucking cheating scumbag” bottom lip trembling at the words leaving your mouth, the sick feeling working its way through your body and eventually settling in the back of your throat but you stop it.

You had plans for a lovely anniversary dinner tonight. Your boyfriend of 4 years Anthony. The man you’ve always seen yourself marrying and tonight, you thought was the night. That he’d finally get down on one knee and propose. But that was soon ripped away from you the moment the starters arrived.

He started his little speech about how he’s had the best time over the last 4 years with you, the memories you’ve made together. 

Then came the moment that everyone dreads. The breakup speech. 

He confessed to not feeling as happy as he once did with you and then he admitted to having a connection with some woman at work. His assistant. Jennifer. 

And as much as he played it off like nothing happened, you’ve known him long enough now to see all of the tell tale signs. The way he rubs his ear lobe, the way he avoids your eyes and most importantly the way he stutters when he’s nervous. 

His face has guilt and cheater written all over it. Your whole world feels like it’s crumbling around you and everything is a mess. Including your mascara. 

You always had your suspicions about Jennifer but he was the perfect liar, a genius at concocting up excuses. The way he’d make your mind do a full 180 with your thoughts and feelings. Just like a magician tricking the audience. He pulled the wool right over your eyes and love enabled that, stopped you from asking all the questions that you should have thought to ask.

It’s like now, everything he ever said to you, all the happy memories and plans you made. They all seem so fake, like he never meant any of it. It’s gut wrenching. Sickening. 

He’s a beautiful liar. He did it so effortlessly. Getting into bed next to you after no doubt being with her, touching her in the places he was only ever supposed to touch you.

But before you can even get to him, the restaurant staff make their way over, trying to remove you from the scene but you don’t even give them the chance.

“I’m going. Don’t fucking touch me” you hold your hands up, slipping your coat on and grabbing your purse.

“I hope one day you’ll experience how you’ve made me feel tonight” and that’s the last thing you ever said to him, picking your stuff up to leave.

All that anger and hurt eventually brought you here, the bar right round the corner from your house. You couldn’t bare the thought of even going home right away, let alone stepping foot in there. It’s too soon. 

The house that’s jam packed with memories of the two of you. Photographs of you. The bed you’ve slept in every night with him for 2 years. Your skin itches.

That’s when you see someone sit down next to you at the bar but you don’t look. He still notices you though. Ogling you as he sips at his whiskey. The way your dress hugs your figure, the slit up the side, exposing your legs.

You hear his thick Boston accent ordering. Still refusing to turn your head. You really don’t want any bother tonight. You just need to drown him out. Drown out the way he smells, the way he touches you, the feel of his huge hands all over your skin. 

Ransom doesn’t stop though, stealing glances here and there at you, trying to figure out the perfect chat up line to dish out. Then it comes to him, no chat up lines needed.

“What’s brought a beautiful girl like you here tonight then?”

The smirk that appears on his face comes out in his words, you can hear it but you’re really not in the mood so you order another drink, ignoring the stranger. 

But the second you speak up, your voice giving your state away, causing Ransom’s head to shoot up, leaning closer to get a better look and that’s when he sees it. Your eyes that are filled with tears, the way you’re sniffles follow shortly after they fall.

“Wait, are you okay?” Genuine concern in his voice, not wanting to upset you even more by prodding too much. 

“I’m fine” you spit, just wanting to be left alone to wallow. To over evaluate everything that’s gone down tonight. But that’s kind of hard to do with this man talking non stop.

“You don’t look fine”

“That’s because i don’t need nor want anyones pity” ouch.

“Who said i was pitying you?” he rolls his eyes, not even sure on what’s turned you so cold or should he say who. But he tried. Which isn’t usually in his nature. 

See the events that lead Ransom to that little bar are slightly different to yours but nevertheless, he’s here with you so it doesn’t necessarily matter. The story should probably be told anyway though.

All was going so well in his world earlier today, he was happy as Larry, living off of his Grandfather, taking all he could get from him. He had everything. A bachelor pad that puts his friends one to shame, a beamer, scantily clad women at the click of his fingers and invitations to all the best parties in Boston. He was the most notorious playboy, everyone knows him.

The moment he stepped foot into his Grandfathers study, nothing was ever going to be same once he left. And that’s a fact. 

Harlan broke the news about his will. How he changed it recently. Leaving his nurse Marta Cabrera with everything. Every. Last. Dime. 

Meaning Ransom and his family will be pushed out of the mansion and Walt will be kicked to the curb when it came to Harlans publishing company, Blood Like Wine. 

He argued with Harlan for what felt like forever, tried his best to plead his case and he even resulted to taking a threatening tone to his beloved Grandfather. Which of course, didn’t work. Leaving him angry, furious even. His blood was well and truly boiling. He’d had it. He couldn’t hear another word of that bullshit. So he stormed out. Bidding his great nana a swift goodbye in the form of resting his hand over her arm. 

Once in his beamer, he screamed. Smacking the wheel with all of his might before stepping on it, pulling out the space and up the driveway. He had to get out of there and fast. 

But halfway up the drive, he slams on the breaks when an idea begins to form, causing him to turn around. Parking away from the mansion first before creeping his way back in. 

He climbs the wall at the side of it, up to the secret window that he discovered in his childhood. Once he’s in he finds Marta’s medical bag, opening it and switching his grandfathers meds, making sure to take out the one saving grace that could ruin his perfect plan. 

With that secured in his pocket, the bag is zipped back up and placed back where he found it and he’s leaving the same way he came. Back down the side of the house but before he can make a quick run for it, he sees his great nana in the window. Staring at him, without blinking. He waits to see if she’ll speak but she never does, so he turns to leave, making it back to his beamer without a single person catching him. Great nana doesn’t count, there’s a very slim chance that she didn’t even know it was him. After all, she didn’t say a word.

All done now though, the plan is now in full swing. Soon Marta will take Harlan up to bed to give him his medicine. That’s when she’ll give him the overdose on morphine. Or the good stuff as they like to call it. 

And eventually it’ll start to come together. 

Marta will get arrested for Harlan’s murder, the money and all of the assets that were once hers will be stripped away and they shall all be returned to their rightful owners. His family and him of course. One thing that should be made abundantly clear about Ransom is that he’ll only ever help or get involved when there’s something in it for him. However, he’s not always evil, he has a soft side, it rarely comes out but make no mistake, it’s there alright. 

With his evil plan in place, he heads back home but before he even gets there, he passes a quaint little bar at the side of the road. He could really do with a drink right now. Of course a taxi home will be required but with thousands about to grace his bank account, what’s 10 or more dollars on taxi fairs. Exactly, it’s pittance to him. 

The second he enters, all eyes are on him. All but two. Your eyes. You’re sat at the bar, head in your hands and from what he can see, you’re dressed all fancy. Too fancy for this place that’s for sure. So he makes his way over, noticing the disgusted looks out of the corner of his eye. He’s never been here before, so of course he’s the newbie to all of the regulars.

That then leads to now. 

You turn to face him, your sad eyes meeting his dreamy ones. The only way to describe them. You find yourself on the verge of getting lost before you break the gaze. Nodding towards the barman who slides another shot over to you to which you knock back like it’s nothing before continuing to sip Gin.

Just one look from you and he can see that something isn’t right. 

“What’s got you crying all on your lonesome?”

“More like who” you respond, chuckling as more tears fall.

He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off “i had the lovely pleasure of being dumped tonight” you muster up your best fake smile, as if somehow acting like everything is okay will suddenly make it all okay for real. But it’s no use, you still feel torn to pieces. Your heart is still on the floor, it’s been stomped on way too many times for you to count on two hands and you’re life is a complete shambles.

He doesn’t love you, Y/N. He doesn’t love you anymore but then again, did he ever? 

“I’m sorry to hear that and for what it’s worth, the guys a jackass for doing that to you”

His comment has your brows furrowing in question. What does he mean by that? But you don’t even get a chance to ask, he can sense your confusion a mile away.

“I just meant that you’re gorgeous. He’s a fool” his nice side coming out to play, he’s never this nice to a woman unless he plans to sleep with her. But this time, it’s different. You’re different. He can never bring himself to pray on you like one of those other girls. Because he can see it, that you’re drained. You’ve had enough. Your ex made a fool of you enough already so who is he to add to that?

“Yeah right, he cheated so i doubt that very much” you snort, knocking back the rest of your drink.

At this point the bartender doesn’t even need you to ask for another, he’s probably realised by now that he should keep them coming. 

“What an asshole” 

Why does he care? He’s just a stranger. But still, you agree with him.

“Yup”

And just like that, a conversation blossoms. 

Drinks flow as you explain the events of tonight and he doesn’t interrupt you. He just lets you speak, it’s almost like he can sense that you just need someone to listen, like all you need is to let out all of your emotions. Even if it is to a complete stranger. 

Who by the way isn’t bad in the looks department. 

Wait. No. You can’t think that. 

Surely it’s fine to think it, just as long as you don’t act on it. Although, you are available now so there would be no harm.

“So let me get this straight. The man took you to dinner for your 4 year anniversary, let you get all dolled up, makeup, hair, nails. The works. Just to break it off with you and tell you he’s met someone else?” his brows raising and you nod, ashamed of how you’ve been treated because ultimately, you really did look like the idiot tonight.

You bought an expensive dress just for this very occasion and you did look the best you’ve ever looked. Radiant and glowing. Your makeup was on point, as was your hair. But now, you’ve got mascara everywhere and you’re way over the line of tipsy.

“I don’t get it. You’re well, you. I mean look at you and he left this for another woman? It makes no sense. There’s no way i’d ever give you up. No chance. No way” the way you feel your cheeks warm at his obvious compliment. You’re almost certain that he’s sweet talking you now. It took him a total of 2 hours. And he finally gave it a go. But you’re not complaining.

“LAST ORDERS” the bartender pulls you from your thoughts. That’s when you turn to look at him, still not knowing the perfect strangers name.

“Um, i guess i should get going” the very sentence makes that sick feeling come back but just like earlier, you push it away, stopping it before it comes spewing out on the bar. There would have been no time to run to the bathroom. 

“I guess i should too” he smiles softly, shrugging his coat on and standing up. 

That’s when the height difference is clear. He towers over you, making you feel small and dainty. 

He gestures for you to head out first and as you glance back over your shoulder, you see him sliding some money to the bartender. No doubt, he paid for all of those drinks that you forgot to even pay for. Fuck.

These heels are way too high and your vision blurs a little as you stumble out the door but before you can even fall to the ground and face plant, he catches you, lifting you up and walking you over to what looks like a taxi.

“Come on you, let’s get you home. Where’d you live?”

Your mind goes blank as you stare at him before muttering “i don’t want to go home, i can’t go home. He’ll be there. Don’t make”

He cuts you off, pulling you closer to him and giving the cabbie his address instead. Wait. His place?

“I guess i should probably tell you my name being as you’re gonna be in my house soon huh?” he chuckles, spurring your own laughing fit. 

“Do tell, mystery man” 

“Ransom”

“I don’t have any money to pay you, not that i need to anyways, just tell me your name”

“No, no. My name is Ransom” his laughter fills your ears.

Strange name. Strange man.

“Surely not” 

“Sure is. Well technically it’s my middle name. But i really can’t reveal anymore than that”

“Well i’m Y/N by the way and can i just say, you smell amazing” ah, the part where you make an utter show of yourself by leaning closer and closer, until your face is inches from his neck. That’s when you inhale really dramatically. Getting a good whiff of his manly scent. It’s intoxicating.

Luckily for you, he takes it all in good humour, probably because you’re drunk. 

The rest of the ride back to his consists of you getting overly touchy, making random comments and with Ransom being the playboy that he is, it’s a real struggle for him not to fuck you here and now. Even in front of the cabbie. It wouldn’t be the worst place he’s fucked.

Yes you’re drunk but your hands are roaming to places they shouldn’t be and now he can feel a situation forming in the shape of a huge hard on.

Not that you notice, you’re too wrapped up in your own drunken state, blissfully unaware.

He can’t fuck you anyway. You’re too drunk. He’ll have to sober you up first.

The taxi comes to a halt and you look out of the windows, noticing a huge house, too posh for the likes of you but clearly fitting for a man like Ransom. He pays the cabbie before getting out. 

You sit there clueless until you feel him scoop you up in his arms. He kicks the the door shut, walking the both of you to his house. He fiddles around in his pocket, holding you up with one arm so that he can open it and put you down on the couch.

“Is this your place?” 

“It is indeed”

“It’s so big”

He lays you down, pointing his index finger in your face as he warns you “stay here, okay? Don’t move”

The child in you starts to emerge, the pout and puppy dog eyes coming out “yes sir”. You salute him and watch him strut away. 

When he returns, his coat is off and he’s just in his white shirt, grey cardigan and his slacks.

“Here, drink this, it’ll help”

“Ew what is this?” your face screws up, disgusted at the taste “are you trying to poison me?”

“It’s just water, don’t be so dramatic. Drink it”

“What if i wanted another drink” 

He just shakes his head disapprovingly. You’re really having none of it and he can’t fuck you like this. He makes it his mission to make sure all the women he’s with can actually remember what’s going on. Plus he needs your consent first. 

“Drink. I won’t tell you again” his scary side showing just a tad but he soon shuts that off, realising how bossy and intimidating he sounds “wait, sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you”

Shouting and confrontation has always scared you. You’ve always had this natural instinct to cower and hide. 

But this time, all you can really do is back up, to the other end of the couch.

“You’re just really drunk and it’s not doing you any good. Especially with everything that you’ve gone through tonight” wow. He’s even surprised himself with that one. 

It’s not that he doesn’t care about you or your feelings because he most certainly does. He’s liked being there for you tonight, even if you did start out as two strangers at a bar. It distracted him from his own drama filled life. But your freaky side was showing on the taxi ride over and it awakened something inside of him.

Not in the way that some may think. Sure he’d love nothing more than to fuck you senseless, make you forget everything even if it’s just for the night but most importantly. He felt something more than just lust when you were touching him. 

And as strange as that is to admit, it felt amazing. Like fucking you wouldn’t just be for the sake of it. You wouldn’t just be another notch on his bed post. It’s almost like his heart knows something that his brain doesn’t know yet.

Eventually he gets you to slowly sip at the water until half of it is gone and then the whole thing. You’re still tipsy but a little better than you were before the water.

“Did you want any food? I could order in? It might help?”

“I mean i did sort of throw my prawn starter at my ex” 

He can’t contain his laughter, leaning back on the couch and throwing a hand over his left boob. You really are hilarious to him. He’s so amused by you and he doesn’t ever want this night to end. Even if it doesn’t end in sex, which it will. He’d be satisfied. 

Something that Ransom Drysdale would never ever think or say. 

“So food then?”

You nod before shaking your head aggressively.

“Actually no. No food. I already feel like i’m going to hurl. Food will just make that worse” 

He seconds that, taking your empty glass from your hands and disappearing to refill it before returning it to you.

“You best drink up then if you aren’t planning to eat”

So you do as he says, stopping after a couple of sips due to your eyes noticing more and more about him that you never noticed before. Like his slicked back hair, his broad shoulders and oh shit. Is that a boner?

It’s gotta be right. 

Your still tipsy self hands him the water for him to place on the coffee table for you and that’s when you do the unexpected. You make your way over to him, sitting way too close. Your bare arms rubbing against the soft and thin material of his cardigan. 

“You alright?” 

The way he acts like he cares, which, he does. It’s soothing, the gentle tone in his voice. The way he’s treating you like you’re glass and he doesn’t want to break you. And he’d be right, because you are delicate. Not your body of course but your heart, your soul, your mind. Not that there’s much left of your heart after Anthony broke it.

“I’m okay, i’ll be better after i get this dress off though” the flirty side of you starts to make an appearance. You look down, twiddling your thumbs as he clears his throat, clearly didn’t expect a comment like that. 

“I guess i could fetch some of my clothes for you to wear?” his suggestion, whilst very cute and gentleman like, isn’t what you were after. And he’s far from a gentleman. You can just tell.

“I don’t think you understood” you turn around, back facing him “i need some help. Please” eyelashes batting as you quickly look over your shoulder at him and seconds later, you feel his hand move your hair to the side. 

The zipper glides down with ease causing the straps to fall down your arms and soon enough. You stand up, letting it fall into a puddle on the floor. Leaving you in nothing but your matching blue laced, bra and panties set. Along with your heels of course. It’s the set that you bought for tonight too. For the sex you never ended up getting.

For the first time ever, Ransom is rendering on speechless, his mouth waters at the most incredible sight in front of him and he can tell from that look in your eyes that you want him. 

Something he never expected to happen so fast. That’s when you sit back down next to him, resting your hand on his thigh.

“You know i should really thank you for tonight”

“Honestly, it was nothing” his words are aimed at you whilst his eyes are fixated on your body, not even trying to hide it from you but you just lap it up. You could use some attention right now. After all, your confidence was knocked with your ex boyfriend’s revelation.

“No, really. It was nice. You’ve been amazing. So let me thank you” but before your lips can touch his, he pulls back. Looking at you as his hand caresses your cheek, staring into your eyes like he’s looking into your soul and you feel close to naked in more ways than one.

That’s when his lips crash to yours in an intense and very heated kiss. As his hands roam around your half naked figure, you position them at the back of your bra, signalling to him that you want him to remove it. Which of course, he does. 

He pulls away for a couple of seconds, taking a moment to look at your breasts. And the way he cups them with his large hands before using his thumb and index fingers to pinch at your now hard nipples, has you moaning into the kiss. Leaving your lips parted just enough for his tongue to slip in, adding to the build up. 

The battle for dominance begins and it goes back and forth between you both, your hunger is very much profound. As is Ransom’s. The moans he’s eliciting are almost porn star like and he’s barely even touched you. But that’s the beauty of it, it feels so good that you’re keening for more. Which earns a low and raspy chuckle.

It doesn’t take long before you’re straddling him, legs either side with your hands cupping his face. His hands rested on your waist, squeezing slightly, almost like he’s making sure you don’t go anywhere. And after the day he’s had. He needs someone, whether he admits it or not. He does. 

But that’s all he’s ever wanted. Is someone. Someone to talk to, someone who will listen and be there. He can’t complain about how that’s not the case though, he’s brought it all on himself. The loneliness, it’s killing him but he chooses to push everyone away. 

His family though, that’s all them. They made him this way. A scheming, money grabbing playboy. It doesn’t mean the facade doesn’t drop once he’s all alone though.

However, it never drops around others. So why is it dropping around you?

“God, i needed this” he pants, in between his kisses that he’s peppering from your lips to your jawline and then your neck. It takes him next to no time at all to find the one spot that drives you insane and when he notices the way your whole body shivers. He smirks, sucking and biting it along with the equal amount of wet kisses.

“Me too. Fuck, right there” you mewl, back arching in his hands as they splay across it before moving down to settle on your panties. His finger traces the top of them, following them as it dips into your ass before giving your ass cheeks a hard smack. 

God if this is how incredible you feel just kissing and touching the man then sex must be a real first place prize.

Just the way he’s handling your body alone is enough to send you over that sweet cliff but you stop it, holding back by pushing his face away from your skin, interrupting the hickey he was clearly in the middle of making.

“I wasn’t done with you, come back here” 

You stop him again “i need you” you whisper frantically, both of your chests rising and falling. Your heart is beating like crazy.

“Patience baby” he winks, standing up with you in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist and your arms holding onto his broad shoulders for support as he carries you up the stairs and into what looks like his room. 

Before you even have time to pause for so much as a second, he throws you to the bed. 

“I wanna take my sweet little time with you” he starts, the bed dips as he gets on it, hovering above you “gonna worship every inch of your body” he lowers himself so that he can kiss your lips, then your jawline, then your neck and then eventually, the valley between your breasts.

“Gonna show you what your worth baby, prove to you that you’re better than that scum who didn’t treat you the way you deserve” also something that’s unlike Ransom. But if there’s one thing he’s a pro at, it’s pleasuring a woman. He knows what the fuck he’s doing. He can talk the talk and walk the walk. Which he’s about to prove to you right now. 

He lowers himself down to your sex, the way the pool is growing more and more is obvious, he can smell it and even see it, the way the light blue material has darkened around your tight hole.

You spread your legs open wider, your way of inviting him in. Of course he accepts. He starts off by pressing a thumb down onto your clit, moving it around in circles and causing you to jolt. You’ve been craving someone, anyone at this point to touch you there. Maybe that should have been a sign that things were doomed with you and Anthony since he’s not touched you in months. Maybe that was a sign you should have seen, a red flag that you were too blind to notice.

“Look at you, so flustered already. God i can’t wait to fuck you” 

“Please” you beg, pathetically.

“Nuh uh baby, i told you i wanna take my time, starting with this pretty little pussy” he hooks his fingers into the hem, using that to pull them down and off of your legs before throwing them behind him, not caring where they land. 

“My oh my, it is a pretty little pussy, isn’t it. God you’re soaked baby, all this for me?”

“All for you” your confirmation leads him to lick his lips before pressing a couple of open mouthed kisses to the inside of your thighs.

“That man is an idiot. But i guess his loss is my gain. Ain’t that right baby” he winks as his kisses get closer and closer to your arousal covered hole. 

“Ransom, plea- OH FUCK” his mouth latches onto your clit, sucking as his tongue flicks across it rapidly. A sensation you’ve never felt before that makes your breathing hitch, your hands run through his locks, no doubt messing them up, not that he’s showing any signs of caring.

All that Ransom cares about right now is making you feel good, making you cum.

“Like this baby? Like my mouth all over you?” his eyes meet yours as he uses his fingers to spread you open so that he can really get a good eyeful “you’re dripping” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself and not to you. He slowly slides one finger in before resuming his attention on your folds and your bundle of nerves. 

“More, i need more. I need you” as flattered as he is by your desperation and need to feel every inch of his thick cock, he has to prepare you. Most of the women he’s been with have never had someone as big as him before, so he always likes to get them ready and you are no exception. 

“Patience baby, you’ll have me. All in good time” 

His raspy voice has you melting alone and the way he’s working you over, slipping a second digit in, should be criminal. How can a man like this be single and alone? It makes no sense. Plus it doesn’t hurt that he’s loaded too. 

It’s a mystery that you’ll be sure to get to the bottom of once you’re done here. 

A third finger is added and he’s curling them all more and more each time he bottoms out, your back arches again, your grip on his hair gets tighter. But he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t stop. Not even for a second. He’s a man on a mission right now.

The way he’s sucking on your clit, the way his fingers are filling you up and the way he’s slurping at you like a drink is something you’ll never and could never compare to anything you’ve ever experienced. He’s a literal god and he has your walls fluttering around him, your clit pulsating in his mouth.

“Feel the way your squeezing me baby, you gonna cum? Huh? Gonna cum all over my fingers” the pure filth that he’s spewing, is what has you coming face to face with stars. And Ransom can feel the way your hips bucks up into his face, the way your hands keep him locked there until they are pushing him away due to how sensitive you are. He doesn’t budge though.

He just laps at your sex again and again before finally withdrawing his fingers, noticing your slick coating them and dripping down his hand.

“Jesus, looks like somebody made a mess”

You can’t help the way your cheeks warm in embarrassment which he soon puts to bed by stuffing his fingers in his mouth to clean them off. Every last drop. 

That’s when he takes it upon himself to drink directly from you, sticking his tongue into the honey pot, taking everything you have to offer “god so fucking sweet. I can’t get enough baby, tastes so fucking good” 

A flirtatious giggle escapes, your hands covering your mouth but he rips them away.

“Don’t ever feel embarrassed or shy around me” 

“Are you gonna fuck me now?” your teeth bite at your bottom lip as you shiver with the anticipation of what’s to come from him. His silence is deadly but exciting.

“Indeed i am” 

He can most likely hear your heart race as he pulls away, getting off of the bed to undress himself. Starting with his cardigan and shirt. Once it’s off, his abs are revealed, his biceps are huge. You have the biggest urge to kiss him all over that chiseled body, sculpted by some kind of god. He’s gotta be a fantasy.

“But first baby” he trails off, pulling his slacks down and stepping out of them “you’re gonna suck my cock, get it nice and hard with that mouth of yours before i ram it into that tight little cunt” he pulls his boxers down, stepping out of them too and kicking both to the side before stalking closer.

You gulp, your eyes widen... he’s huge. Really huge. Thick too. Does he even need your mouth?

“What’s the matter baby? Is someone intimidated?”

“No” your denial, whilst very cute, isn’t believable. But he’s still going to let you have a go at wrapping that mouth around it.

You scoot off of the bed and fall to your knees, feeling even more dainty than you did before when he was towering over you like a giant. 

“Don’t be shy baby, get to work” 

Your hand wraps around him with your thumb swiping the pre cum that’s oozed out of the slit and you immediately pop your thumb into your mouth. You just want a small taste and as soon as the salty-sweet droplet hits your tongue. You all of a sudden crave more of it.

“Nice?” he asks, cocking a brow up “delicious” you smile, adding to his already blown up ego.

You gradually welcome him into your mouth, opening wider as each inch passes your lips until he’s almost bottomed out. That’s when you open wider and his tip hits the back of your throat making you gag, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth.

“You look so good taking all of me in that mouth, bet you’ll look even better when you’re taking me in that cunt”

Is he trying to kill you with his dirty talk? Most likely.

He’s a different man to the guys you normally go for. Maybe that’s where you’ve gone wrong. You’ve let yourself settle for mediocre sex, mediocre relationships and maybe that’s why you’ve never been truly happy, like happy to your very core. You’ve never fully believed that you deserve the world. Never known your worth.

He grips the sides of your head, stilling your movements so his can begin and he doesn’t go easy. His thrusts have you making an even bigger mess, more saliva dripping down from your face to the floor. He’s loving every second of it though. But soon enough, just as quick as he started, he stops. Pulling out and looking at you, content with what he sees. 

“God you’re fucking beautiful like this, on your knees for me like a good girl. Get on the bed baby” you do as you’re told, sprawling out on the bed and waiting for him to join which of course he does. As soon as he gets a condom out, taking it from the wrapper and sliding it down his shaft. Size XL. You spy before he tosses the wrapper into the bin. 

“You ready?” he asks, resting his tip between your legs and lowering his body so that he can slide his arms underneath your shoulder blades. His face inches from yours. 

“Please, i need you now” and with that he slides home, not stopping to let you adjust to every inch as it comes. You can feel your pussy stretching, the way it stings slightly but it also feels incredible. It’s bliss. 

“S’tight baby and s’warm. Feel that pussy stretching around my cock” 

Your eyes roll back as your head lolls to the side, presenting your neck to him and giving him the opportunity to finish what he started earlier, which of course he does. 

And the second is lips are on your skin, his pace picks up and the pain turns to pleasure. You feel him so deep inside of you that you just know if he were to pull out that you’d feel emptier than ever.

“God, yes. Ransom. Fuck” your legs wrap tight around his waist, forcing him in even deeper if that’s possible at all but still you do it. Wanting nothing more than to feel as much of him as physically possible.

So you wrap your arms around him, your fingers tracing shapes on his back, causing him to shiver and growl loudly “fucking take this cock baby, take it like a good girl” he starts, adjusting his pace from fast and rough to slow and hard. Ramming in each time he speaks “such a good girl” thrust “loving every inch of this cock huh?” thrust “god this pussy” thrust “is gonna have me cumming way too quick” thrust.

“I can’t have that now can i?” that’s when he shocks you, flipping you over so that you’re on top “ride me baby, show daddy what you got” the nickname he uses for himself has your walls spasming, catching his attention.

“Oh you like that huh? Such a dirty girl for daddy, aren’t you?”

“Yes daddy” despite never using that in the bedroom before, it feels weirdly satisfying, having him refer to himself as daddy and seeing how he gets when you call him that too, the way his mouth hangs open, the way his cock twitches. 

It’s something you’ll never forget.

You start off by collapsing onto his chest, your breasts pushed up against his pecs as you slowly lift your ass up before sinking back down onto him, earning a hiss. 

“Yeah just like that, make daddy proud baby” so you do, you go again. And again. And again. Getting quicker each time until you’re a pro at it. You then sit up, continuing to bounce up and down, grinding as he bottoms out, with his initial instructions of course. He guides you through it and before he even tries to help a second time, he takes his hands away, noticing how you’re doing it all by yourself.

Grinding like the whore he’s turned you into. You can’t help the confidence beaming off of you as you go to work, slamming yourself down on his cock eagerly. You need that sweet release now more than ever, as does he.

“That’s it baby, make yourself cum” 

The best pout and puppy dog eyes make a return “fuck me. Please daddy” and who is he to say no to you?

“You’re gonna be the death of me i swear” he flips you over again, keeping himself seated deep inside of you as his pace turns animalistic. 

“Mhmm, give it to me, i’m gonna cum” you plead, not that he’d ever deny you a mind blowing orgasm in the first place as it’s clear you’ve never had one like the one he’s about to give you.

“Bet he could never fuck like this huh? Make you moan like a fucking porn star for him. Gonna have your legs shaking baby, hold on to me” 

So you do. 

Your grip tightens around his neck. 

With every hit to your g-spot, he nudges you closer until yet again, stars cloud your vision and your toes curl. Your back arches up so that you’re chest to chest and you cum with a shaky and satisfied cry. He doesn’t stop though, plowing into you to chase his own release. Your legs are most definitely shaking.

Your walls continue to clamp down on him, spurring it on. 

“God i’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me daddy” is all he needed to hear to go crazy and that’s when he spasms himself. His thick seed filling the condom and his thrusts get slower and harder. Riding both of your highs out. 

Your breathing is heavy, your heart beat is out of control but you feel complete. 

You’ve never experienced anything like that before. 

He pulls out, disposing of the condom and rushing into the en suit for a second before returning with a wash cloth. He uses it to clean you up, taking his time and making sure to be extra careful with you. You try to prop yourself up on your elbow but struggle due to him fully ruining your body.

“Just relax baby, let me take care of everything” he presses a couple of kisses to your thighs and then your stomach, pausing to throw the wash cloth into the hamper before making his way back up to your lips.

He lays down next to you, pulling you into his side and draping an arm around your body so you lay your head down on his chest.

“So” you both say at the same time, causing a laughing fit to erupt.

“That was certainly an experience” 

“I told you that i was gonna worship you and i think you can agree i delivered” 

“You did more than just deliver Ransom”

“Please do tell me more” he laughs, stroking your hair.

“How on earth are you single?” the question that’s been on your mind since you and him got talking at the bar. He’s acted in a way that not many men do these days, it’s hard to believe no ladies are lining up to be with him.

Plus his dick and head game is A-1.

“I’m single more by choice than anything else”

“How come?” you feel bad for asking but surely if you were over stepping the line then he’d say.

“I mean, my family life hasn’t always been the best. I’ve learnt to not trust anyone that i’m related to and growing up with parents that just chucked money at stuff to solve it. If i was upset then it was always take this money, go shopping. Or if i needed my mother for girl advice it always lead to my dad telling me i should never trust women which is rich seeing as he cheats on my mom all the time”

It’s quite sad actually, a man that seems to have it all together, is clearly broken inside.

“I’m sorry, that’s awful. I’m guessing that’s why you’re single then, why you choose to keep away from dating”

“Yup. I prefer to just fuck with no strings attached. It’s easier, I don’t have to do anything other than make them cum. I’m not filled with pressure to be the perfect boyfriend. I can just relax but sometimes it gets lonely”

“How’d you mean? Sorry if i’m prying” you rest your head on your hands as you look up at him, his finger tracing shapes on your back now.

“It’s fine honestly, don’t sweat it. I guess the best way to explain it is that i can have all this money from my grandfather, all the cars, girls and friends in the world but i can’t trust any of them enough to let them see me when i’m laying in bed at night. The times when i just want someone to hold, someone to hold me, tell them about my day, hear about theirs. Someone to wake up next to and fall asleep next to. But whenever a woman gets even remotely close to me in a way that is too deep. I back off, i give her the cold shoulder and just ghost. I get freaked out because to me, there’s nothing scarier than someone seeing all of me, the good, the bad and the ugly”

It takes you just a second to realise, he’s just bared his soul to you. After saying that he backs off whenever a woman gets too close. After saying that he struggles to trust. That he’s scared of being himself around someone. He’s just been himself around you. And you have no doubt that he feels comfortable enough with you to do that so that’s gotta count for something, surely.

“I get it. It’s hard. Loving someone is easy but allowing them to love you, that’s the scary part. Because ultimately when you let someone in enough to let them love you whole heartedly it opens you up to the chance of heartbreak i mean, look at my life”

You both laugh a little “It’s not even just regular heartbreak, it’s the fear of being cheated on, having my trust shattered. Having someone use me for my family’s money”

“Well, for what it’s worth. I think you need to just bite the bullet, let that guard down. How do you ever expect to find what you want and need if you’re not willing to open yourself up to it. It’s a risk that is worth it sometimes, that eventually, all the heartaches will lead to something greater or someone. Someone that will accept every flaw you have and be there regardless of how messy things can get”

Ransom is just so relaxed right now, he feels at peace, at ease with you. The way you’re listening. Your head rested on his chest, letting him hold you and giving him proper responses, it shows you’re paying attention, you want to be there for him. He’s completely taken back by you. How could anyone want to cheat and leave you, it’ll always remain a mystery to him.

You’re like this ray of light, that came into his life tonight out of the blue. Someone who’s hurting too but somehow you amazing him with the sunshine you provide. You’re everything he’s always wanted in a girlfriend but he’s spent years pushing girls just like you to the side due to fear. Only difference is, he’s able to be himself with you. With them, he could never.

His body lets go as he turns on his side, turning you with him so that he’s cuddling you from behind.

“You’re right. I’ll get there eventually. I just, i need time”

Your silent for a while, taking his words in before you speak.

“Seems like you don’t need any time at all”

That’s when you hear quiet snores from behind you, he’s dozing. And after a couple of minutes, you decide that it’s probably time you see yourself out, you never wanna over stay your welcome and right now with him asleep, you already have.

But before you can even get off the bed, you need to remove his hand from around your frame. Which isn’t going to be easy considering you have to try not to wake him up.

You succeed, finally managing to scoot over to the edge of the bed. But that’s when you hear his tired groans, followed by a hand to your wrist.

“Don’t leave me” his voice is laced with worry

“What?”

“Everyone leaves me” his words break your heart all over again, you’ve been left before and you’re not about to do this to him. Besides, it’s not like you wanted to, you just didn’t think he was the type to want you here all night.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to be here when you woke up”

“Well, you thought wrong. Come back and cuddle, don’t leave like everyone else does”

It doesn’t take much more to convince you to crawl back into his arms. He presses a couple of kisses to your shoulder as you get under the covers with him. Then the kisses move to your cheek and eventually, your lips.

“I’m here to stay then i guess”

“Good”

You feel warm and happy somehow in his arms, like everything has gone away, even if it’s just temporarily.

“Goodnight” 

“Goodnight Ransom. sweet dreams” something you’ve always said throughout your whole life. It’s a nice thing to say and it has him smiling into one last kiss before he closes his eyes for the night.

---------------------------

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[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

CALL ME CAT, chapter sixteen

Summer 2018

The only thing worse than being hungover was having to face all of them the next morning. I didn’t remember much between quitting and climbing onto the bus, Jules draped a blanket over me and suddenly the sun was rising. 

Now I sat in a hotel room somewhere, squinting at the beams of light through the window and reaching out for a cup of coffee that Leah handed over. 

“Thanks,” I said, my voice quiet. 

She was silent for a moment, watched me take a sip before she spoke. “Do you really want out?”

I thought about it for a second. Somehow, the entire time the band gained traction and our careers got bigger and better, my life seemed to spiral out of control and I became more of a mess than I thought humanly possible. So I nodded.

The door pushed open, Ian was in the same clothes from the night before, bags under his eyes let me know that I’d created a hellish task for him. Ask about paperwork, call the right people, figure out what the hell was going on. 

“Hi,” he said, hands in his pockets, a quick sigh before he made eye contact. “How do you feel?”

I let out a sarcastic laugh, unsure if he was asking to be nice or to rub it in my face that I had been a drunk mess for the umpteenth time. 

“Like shit, Ian.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Well, I need to know if you’re actually leaving or if that was just you being drunk and upset. Either way we need to have a whole meeting this morning about what went on and what we do moving forward. Last night was not okay.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, unprepared for his directness. “I meant it,” I told him. 

A pause, almost like he didn’t really think it would happen. “Uh, okay,” he looked around the room and pulled out his phone. “I have to call people then. Can I ask you a question, first?”

Hands around the coffee cup, I said: “Shoot.”

“Is this about Harry?”

“No,” I shook my head. “It’s about me.”

It was partially about Harry. I couldn’t do it anymore, I couldn’t stand the constant tug of war or the impossible task of trying to understand him. I figured it was best to not try at all. 

The door pushed open again, Niall was on the other side, his lips parted when he saw me. “Already signing shit?”

“Niall,” Ian sighed, hoping to not let things get as rowdy as they did the night before. His voice was tired and the way he said Niall’s name told me that a confrontation was the last thing he needed right now.

“Already dissolving everything we worked for?”

“What’s happening?” Miles popped up behind him, then Harry and Jules.

More nervous squirming on my end. Ian hadn’t mentioned the meeting would be now. 

“Nothing is happening, we’re talking,” Ian said when he turned to face them. “And since you’re all here, I guess you can come in.”

They filed in, quiet and angry and unsure what was happening. I tried to focus my gaze on the lid of my latte. Steam had gathered underneath, tiny bubbles of heat were trapped inside--like I was trapped in this room. They sat on a sofa and Jules took to the floor, eyes avoiding mine when I finally had the courage to look up. 

“Do you want to tell them?” Ian turned to me. 

I shook my head, sipped my coffee again and wished I could sink into the chair. Could they blame me? Did any of them think that this was good for any of us?

“Cat is looking to leave the band,” Ian nodded. “I have to call people and figure out what type of paperwork needs to happen. I’ll have things to sign for all of you--I’m going to have to talk to the label’s lawyer first, though.”

“So that’s just it?” Niall asked again, his eyes pointed at me with a furious stare. “You’re a liar and a quitter?”

“Niall I don’t think you really understand,” I told him, anger rising in my voice. “But if you’d like to make a lot of assumptions, by all means, go ahead.”

“S’my only choice, right? Since you’ve been lying.”

“You guys need to figure out what you’re doing from here. Are you interested in staying in the band?” Ian tried to break up the tension, held a hand in my direction to quiet me.

“Without Cat?” Miles asked, a wrinkle in his forehead when he made eye contact with me. “With no lead singer?”

“Just the four of us?” Jules pulled her legs up to her chest, her voice was quiet and high pitched. 

“Yeah, I mean, the four of you can continue on.”

“I don’t know,” Niall let out a breath. “I’m too pissed off to figure out what the fuck we should do.”

“Right,” Ian nodded. “Think about it. But we need to cancel the show tonight, and tomorrow, really. Before we figure out what the next step is.”

Niall looked up at me and shook his head, a sarcastic laugh before he said: “Great, cancel them.”

**

The swampy landscape of Florida passed by my window, the white lines on the edge of the street blurred as we neared my parents’ house. Heart in my throat when I knocked on the door, the only thing more embarrassing than hiding out in Florida while headlines blew over was realizing I didn’t have a key to my childhood home. 

Marta smiled when she tugged the door open, wrapped her arms around me and didn’t say anything, she didn’t need to. 

But my mother did. She appeared around the corner, glasses perched on her nose and expecting eyes that grazed over my figure. “You look tired.”

I held back an unsurprised laugh. “I am,” I admitted. “It’s been a busy few days.”

“Quitting your band and coming home doesn’t sound busy.”

“Well, it was a lot of paperwork.”

Marta tried to ease the tension. “Do you want a snack? A drink?”

“I’m fine,” I told her, a reassuring nod before I looked back at my mom. “Thanks for letting me come home.”

“Well…” she made a disapproving sound with her tongue, a shrug of her shoulders as if she always knew the band was destined for failure. “What happened?”

I tilted my head and looked at her for a second. She couldn’t really care--her question was more likely a nosy way to put the puzzle pieces together. I wasn’t stupid enough to think her book club wasn’t asking questions. 

“I think I have a drinking problem.”

Her eyes went wide for a second, but she regained her composure in a quick beat. I kept talking before she could say anything. 

“And I think you do too, to be honest, but, that’s really none of my business.” I shrugged my shoulders and picked up my suitcase, turned on my feet to head for the stairs. 

“Catherine,” her voice was frantic. “Did you just say you think I have a drinking problem?”

“Yep,” I said over my shoulder. She was now a few steps behind me, heels clicking on the marble floors. 

“That’s absurd, you’re absolutely out of your mind.” She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, lips parted when I turned around to cut her off. 

“Maybe I am, mom. Maybe I’m completely fucking neurotic at this point because of you.”

“Me? What are you talking about? How could I possibly have anything to do with your--band mess?”

“Because while you were too busy pouring glass after glass of Chardonnay, I was upstairs having panic attacks and nightmares and developing PTSD. But you didn’t give a fuck.”

She let out a short noise, maybe one of shock or even frustration. “I was grieving, Catherine.”

“Me too, but I guess this house wasn’t big enough for the both of us.”

She didn’t reply, her eyes blinked a few times in a robotic way before I lugged my suitcase up the stairs and slammed my bedroom door shut. 

My phone was buzzing every few minutes--messages, DMs, people contacting me in every way to figure out what went wrong and where I was. 

But none of my friends. Niall and Jules had no clue where I was. I boarded a plane the night I signed paperwork, only 23 hours after I told them I was out. Landed first in New York to meet with my lawyer, then one with label people to finalize an arrangement. They were free to go on without me if they chose. 

Went back to my apartment, poured out the bottles of Tequila and Champagne that had been a mainstay. Threw some clothes in a suitcase and took a car to JFK. Now, here I was, standing in my childhood bedroom with open balcony doors that let in a nice breeze. 

Whether or not I felt good about how it came out, the fact that everyone knew was a relief. I didn’t have to shrink away from pictures of Cameron in the bathroom or ignore the memories that still floated to my mind every once in a while. It still hurt, but now that the hurt was out in the open, it could finally breathe. 

When I sat on the balcony that night and looked out to the Lagoon, a buzzing from my phone beside me lasted longer than I expected. One, then two, then three. A phone call. 

From Lila. 

I stared at the screen for a minute, momentarily convincing myself that it was a butt dial, a mistake. Maybe she hadn’t heard what happened. 

But then I answered and I didn’t expect her to be so nice. 

“Cat! Hi! I was just calling to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m alright,” I said it with a nod, unsure if the words were true or just my automatic answer. “I’m in Florida--at my parents.”

“I figured,” she sighed. “I would need a minute away too.”

“Lila--you’re not mad at me?”

“Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?”

“Well, I quit the band and I was lying to them for a while and--”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Okay,” I nodded again. “Are you okay?”

She let out a laugh, not a sarcastic or angry one, but one that let me know the question was ironic. “Well, yeah. But, it’s been kind of wild back here. I just--uh--wanted to let you know that me and Harry broke up.”

“What?” I asked this with more force than I intended. “Wait--when?”

“Yesterday--he was a mess after you left and everything was really stressful, and--”

“He was a mess after I left?”

“Well, he was angry. I mean he’s pretty mad at you and he feels betrayed and--”

“Okay,” I held up a hand even though she couldn’t see me. I didn’t need the details. 

“Well you asked.”

“I know--I just, I thought things were going well with you two.”

She let out a sigh. “Yeah, they were. I mean, we were fine, but, I think he’s always going to like you.”

I felt my own eyes go wide, head tilted to the side in the glow of the Palm Beach moon. “Me?”

I didn’t know the right response. Act surprised? Act disgusted? The news was already putting my system into overdrive, the flutter in my heart at her most recent confession made me dizzy.

“Yes, you, Cat--don’t act like it’s such a shock,” she laughed at this like it was silly. “He told me that it wasn’t just once.”

I blew air out between my lips, trying to slow my pulse. “It wasn’t when you were together--he didn’t cheat on you, I promise.”

“I know,” she said. “I told him to call me if he ever gets over you,” she laughed, her voice was sweet and sincere through the phone. “So maybe I’ll hear from him one day, but probably not.”

“Lila,” I breathed out her name and for once, I was at a loss for words. Did I apologize? Did I make some excuse about the tension--whether or not she seemed mad?

“It’s alright, Cat,” she laughed. “Maybe the point of Harry being in my life was so we would find each other. Maybe we’re friend soulmates,” I could hear her smile through the phone, likely from the knowledge that her words would pull an eye roll from me.

But instead I felt my lips turn upward--just a little--when a boat motored by and the leaves of the palm trees danced in the wind. 

Out of all of them, Lila was the one to reach out first. Something about it felt ironic and annoying and somehow still completely serendipitous. 

And for weeks there were people staked outside the front gate. July slowly bled into August and I prayed that the media coverage would fade with summer. My mom seemed to bask in the glow of flashing cameras and my dad had slowly resigned to the fact that his drives to and from the office were now bookended by questions about what I was doing and if the band was breaking up. 

But none of use knew the answer until three weeks in, when my phone rang one night and Niall’s voice was short on the other end. 

“D’ya have a minute?”

“Yeah,” I nodded quickly, sat down on my bed and folded my legs beneath me. I didn’t mean to sound eager, but I’d been hoping for an update on their decision: move forward or disband. I’d yet to hear from him at all and was hoping he’d cooled off since I’d last seen him. “What’s up?”

“Well, we, uh--we’ve been meetin’. We talked to Ian, talked to Ron and some label people. We’re not sure we’re going to stay together.”

“You’re not sure?” I repeated his words for clarity. The decision didn’t sound like something that could be left in the gray area. 

“We’re not. We’re not going forward.”

Silence for a second. “Oh,” I said. “Are you--how do you feel about that?”

“Weird, honestly. Mad, upset, confused.”

“Yeah.”

“I just don’t get it, Cat--I don’t get how things were going so well and yet everything between us got worse and worse.”

“It’s my fault,” I said the words quietly, more calmness laced between them with some salty air and sunshine now a part of my daily routine. “I should have been more honest with you.”

Another pause, and for a second I wasn’t sure if he’d hung up, angry and let down my by half-assed apology. 

“I just wish you hadn’t let Harry get under your skin so much.”

It was a blow I hadn’t expected, I pulled at a thread on my duvet. “It wasn’t just about Harry, Niall,” I tried to not sound angry, looked up at my reflection in the mirror above my dresser. My wet hair was up in a towel, fresh out of the shower and fresh out of patience to talk about Harry.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your brother?”

I stared at the wall, unsure of how to answer his question. On the other side of the sheetrock was the bathroom I’d spent so many nights in. Feet on the cool tile, silently sobbing about the nightmares or wishing it was me and not him. 

If he wanted the truth, I would give it to him. 

“It was my first chance to not be the girl with the dead brother,” I said harshly. “My parents are shitty people, Niall--and when my brother died,” I paused. The thought had been circling in my brain for so long, but putting it into words for the first time made it hurt more. “To them I just became a reminder of him. And my friends from high school and the people in town--I was just one of two, part of a whole.”

“But you told Jules and not me?”

I grew more impatient. “I was drunk, Niall, and I opened my mouth because Harry was being an asshole.”

“Harry? I thought she found out years ago.”

“Yeah--right after I met Harry.”

“Freshman year?”

I rolled my eyes at all of his questions. “Yes--he was being a dick because he was calling me Catherine when we first met and I hate that name because my mother and my brother are literally the only two people on the planet who call me that.”

Another pause. “Oh,” he said, almost like a puzzle piece had fallen into place. “But you didn’t tell him why you didn’t like that name because you didn’t want to bring up your brother.”

It wasn’t a question, he said the words with conviction, informing himself of the rock and hard place I had been stuck between. 

“Telling people within the first two weeks of meeting them that you have a dead twin brother is kind of a vibe killer.”

He let out an awkward laugh, my shoulders felt less tense and I took a leap of faith. “I guess I have PTSD from his death, I mean, I was there. I’ve been googling the symptoms and reading stuff online. I think that’s why I drank so much. Harry constantly calling me that name made all of the memories worse and feel so much closer.”

Quiet again, then he sighed. “I just wish you’d been honest with me.”

I blinked a few times, disappointed that he’d brought it back to the dishonesty and the perceived betrayal when I’d just blurted it all out. I wasn’t left with much in Florida--plenty of time and space to think about the things that had gone wrong and the way I’d reacted. After a few weeks of piecing it together and accepting that maybe there was something wrong with me, maybe I did have a problem--Niall’s lack of response or acknowledgement felt like salt in the wound. 

“I know.”

“I just think I need some space, Cat.”

My heart sunk--not that I didn’t know leaving the band would result in this. I was ready for the awkward phone calls and the fumbling to figure out what we were now: friends? Bandmates? Former roommates? 

I just hadn’t considered that we’d be nothing, potentially, if he was too hurt. 

But after talking to him that night, I wasn’t shocked when Jules wouldn’t answer my calls. At first she’d text back and say she was busy, running an errand or reading Tarot. But after a few weeks of no contact outside of my parents and Marta, reading news articles in my bedroom about the break up and the next steps and the rumors of why it all happened, I called Leah. 

“I need to move out,” I told her. “I need to be somewhere other than Florida and other than New York.”

“Okay,” she said, I could hear typing on the other end. “Los Angeles sounds like an option, then.”

“Do you think that’s weird, though? For me to suddenly buy a house in LA?”

“I mean--Ian called me the other day. Said a lot of writing requests have still been coming in since people don’t really know why you left. Los Angeles would be a good place to do that.”

“I’ll write,” I nodded, something in my gut pulled me towards it. “Who’s been asking?”

“A bunch of people, apparently. Ian said there have been more requests since the split. I guess people figure you’re still doing that--I don’t know.”

I paused for a second, thought about what would happen if word got out to Niall or Jules that I was writing for other people. Would they be angry? Would they care? 

It felt unfair for me to have to factor them into a decision when they wouldn’t answer my calls. For so long they’d been the people I could count on, no matter how much I fucked up or how bad things got. 

But now I didn’t have Niall, I didn’t have Jules, I didn’t have Eddie or Miles. I didn’t have Ian and I didn’t have Harry. I didn’t have a record label and I didn’t have shows to put on. I’d lost almost everything. 

And after all of the uncertainty in my life, the only constant was music. I figured I deserved to keep that.

Summer 2019 

The knocking sent my heart to my throat, one that I’d been waiting for all morning. The California sun was warm through the windows, and when I opened the door, Jules’s hair was blonder than I remembered and Niall’s was darker. 

“Hi,” Jules said, her lips curved up in a small smile. Niall nodded in greeting, I stepped aside, hoping that I didn’t look or sound as stupid as I felt. 

“Come in--I can make tea, or coffee or something.”

They stepped inside, took a look around the foyer. Jules hit Niall in the stomach when he didn’t reply, he grunted in response. “Yeah, tea--that’d be lovely.”

I rolled my eyes at his nervousness, let my mouth quirk into a smirk. “We don’t have to act like strangers, you know.”

They both nodded, awkward smiles in return when we stood, frozen in place.

“Does it really feel that way?”

Jules relented first after a tiny giggle. “No--we’re not strangers. We just--it’s been a while.”

Nine months, to be exact. Texts and phone calls and even emails in between, fall turned into winter and by the time Christmas came, I lived on a tree lined street with other celebrities who could afford this level of privacy. 

I led them into the kitchen and sighed, put the teapot on the stove. “Well, I kind of had some shit to get together.”

When I turned around and let my hands rest on the counter, Niall took a breath before he spoke. “Glad we’re here, you know, just--I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it.”

We hadn’t. First we just sent funny videos, memes back and forth and eventually I got added to a group message with both of them in it. Eddie and I would facetime every once in a while, Miles and I would check in every few weeks and I’d send him some songs I was working on. 

I nodded, I hadn’t talked much about it with anyone--except for Lila. She visited for the New Year and brought me sparkling cider, it’s without the alcohol, but with all of the bubbles and fun.

“You were too angry to hear me out,” I shrugged my shoulders. True, but also probably not what he wanted to hear.

“Can you blame me, Cat? We worked so hard for that band and that success and it felt like you were throwing it away.”

Jules tensed at his volume, looked at me for a reply. 

I nodded, remembered what Lila had advised. Hear them out, validate that they were hurt. 

“I know--I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

This apparently caught Niall off guard--maybe he’d expected me to fight him on it, defend myself or my actions and make it seem like it was his fault. 

But it wasn’t. The drinking was my fault. The running from my emotions was my fault. None of them made me behave the way I did. 

“I get that you had stuff to figure out with your family, but why didn’t you want to try to work it out with us?”

I sighed, Jules pulled out a stool and sat, her eyes on me as she waited for an answer. I knew the question was coming. I knew they’d want to know and I knew that they probably still felt confused and unsure about what had transpired almost a year ago. I had finally given Niall more information about Cameron, but I’d left out the pieces back then that I hadn’t yet found.

The band had been pulling me down, whether or not I wanted to admit it. Staying in the band meant sacrificing my sanity, and when the moment came to choose one or the other, I had to choose myself.

Fonder couldn’t exist if I wanted to be okay--and if I wanted to be okay then Fonder had to come to an end. I couldn’t have my cake and eat it too.

I shook my head, I didn’t know where to start. “I don’t think I would have been able to do it with all of you guys right there.”

“All of us?” Jules offered a knowing smirk.

 I bit at my lip and then admitted: “Harry.”

Jules nodded, Niall dropped my gaze. 

Back in the spring Jules finally called me, the flowers had started to bloom and news of my signing with a new publishing company had started to break. I told her I was sorry for how it all played out and she told me that Miles was doing session stuff at New Trick. Eddie was working with other artists and she hadn’t heard from Harry. 

So now, May in my Los Angeles kitchen, almost a year after I left them on the road and almost a year since I’d seen or heard from Harry, his name echoed against the granite counter top when Niall met my gaze again.

“He’s been asking about ya.”

I counted to three, play it cool. “You’ve talked to him?”

He kept my gaze, sat beside Jules and I wondered if this was a test. They’d planted the seed about visiting me in February, they opted to stay at a hotel and Niall told us he’d been in the studio working on a solo project. I think he expected me to be mad, but I was just proud. 

“He might lay some bass tracks for the stuff I’ve been doing.”

I nodded. “I didn’t know if he was still playing or what he was up to.”

“Did some stuff with Vince, actually, did some session stuff with them for a while, continues to be a heartthrob, the usual.” He cracked a smile at that, Jules rolled her eyes when the tea kettle whistled. 

“Actually, Cat, there was something we wanted to talk to you about.”

I poured the water into three cups, kept my back to them when I replied casually: “what’s up?”

I had no clue what it was. No idea what they wanted to discuss and no idea if they were using this visit as an opportunity to corner me. 

“My birthday’s soon and I wanted to have a party in New York. We wanted you to come.”

It felt too soon for a reunion. Didn’t this type of thing come years later? When one of us was married or when someone had a baby? I turned around and pushed the cups towards them, offered a few options for tea before I replied. “With, like, everyone?”

Niall pulled a bag out of it’s sleeve and dunked it into the steaming water. “With Harry, is what she’s asking.”

“I know what she’s asking,” Jules retorted before she turned back to me. “And yes--he’ll be there.”

“Is this some kind of intervention?” I joked. “Cause I’ve already been sober for almost a year.”

“No,” Jules shook her head. “But we’re extremely proud of your sobriety. I know things got fucked up, but I want us all to be okay, even if Fonder is over.” She looked over to Niall, waiting for him to add on.

“S’also our first party we’re hosting together,” he leaned over to pat her on the knee, his tone casual when he dropped a metaphorical bomb. “As a couple.”

I had to choke down the tea that I’d just sipped, I set the cup down and blinked a few times. “You guys are dating?!”

“We spent a lot of time together when the band split up,” Jules said, a wriggle of her eyebrows in my direction. “Turns out I’m not that annoying after all.”

Niall rolled his eyes, turned back to see me. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” I smiled. “It’s amazing, I’m really happy for you guys.”

“You are?” Jules asked, her voice smaller now.

“Of course,” I said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Niall shrugged his shoulders, his eyes met mine when he spoke. “Well, I wasn’t exactly the most on board for you and Harry gettin’ together.”

“That was different,” I waved a hand, ��and stupid.”

“Was it, though?” Jules’ question was pointed, apparently she still wanted us to be together as much as she had back then.

“Yes, Jules--it was different. It was us being dumb and horny.”

“I think you should come to her birthday party, chat with him.”

I watched Niall for a second. “And why is that?”

Another shrug. “I think it’d be good for you two to reconnect.”

“I’ll come,” I said, “I’m not against coming.”

“But you’re against reconnecting with Harry?” Another prod from Jules. 

“I don’t know,” I let out a groan. “It’s been so long! I don’t even know what he’s been doing or who he’s been seeing or--.”

“No one,” Niall said. “He’s seeing no one.”

“Well, whatever,” I ignored him. “Whether or not he’s seeing someone I’ll still come.”

“Right,” Niall smirked, “but him being single is probably a good pull, right?”

“Don’t make this a thing,” I warned, another sip of tea through the smirk that took up residency on my face. 

“Every single thing between the two of you has been a thing,” Jules said. “Maybe your souls have met before.”

“Enough with the reincarnation stuff, will you?” Niall looked over to her like she was crazy. I mean, maybe she was, but the look in his eyes was different now: less judgmental, more loving.

She waved him off, her focus back to me when she sighed. “You don’t have more questions about him?” She rested her elbows on the counter, offered a look that told me she didn’t believe my nonchalance. 

“None,” I said.

“You don’t even want to know what he’s been asking about ya?”

I let my tongue slide against my teeth, a willful attempt to not take the bait. 

“He knows we’re here,” Jules said--again, a casual admission and a curiosity on her end about how I’d react. 

“Are you going to call him up and give him a full report as soon as you leave?” I eyed Niall playfully, giggled when he rolled his eyes.

“Probably,” he teased. “Tell him that you seem happier than I’ve ever seen ya.”

“Make sure to allude to the fact that it’s cause he’s finally not in my life,” I cracked.

“Just as mean as ever, though,” he laughed. 

I smiled at them, a sense of relief to learn that peace could come after change, after heartbreak, and after hurt. But it was mostly nice to know that even if everything else had changed, Niall’s ability to poke fun at me and Jules’ affinity for cosmic conspiracy theories had remained exactly the same. 

So I flew to New York a few weeks later, my hair shorter than the last time I’d been there and the sky a brighter blue. My apartment had been empty for a year--dust had gathered on the counters and the artwork I’d left on the walls felt out of place now. 

I’d been in and out a few times, once for a meeting with my lawyer, another time when I flew in to write with Adam Levine. When I pushed the door open and tugged my suitcase inside, the emptiness felt all consuming. 

It felt like I was sneaking into someone else’s house--pulling back the curtains in someone else’s bedroom and slipping into the shoes of someone I would never be. 

Being back felt weird--different than I expected and somehow more nerve wracking than facing my mother or facing the truth: I was different. 

The worst part about it was that the piano faced the same window and the same chairs sat on top of the same carpet. It had been frozen in time, a sad and stark reminder of what used to be. 

But I didn’t have time to wallow in self-pity, though--soon enough whisked off to meet up with Jules and Nialls. I was excited to see Miles and Eddie despite feeling like an absolute idiot. Did they blame it all on me? Did any of them recognize how toxic Harry and I had been? 

My nerves were palpable, leaving beads of sweat on my forehead when I walked behind Jules and Niall and the security detail that would spend the night by our sides.

 A whole year of sobriety, not one drop in 362 days--and tonight was my first time in a bar. 

Jules had offered something else: a restaurant, their new apartment, anywhere but a place that’s sole purpose was to get you drunk. But I declined. The Bitter End was the only place that this reunion could happen, and instead of using tequila to calm the thumping in my chest, I was left with breathing techniques I’d learned from a mediation app and my 1-year coin from AA in my pocket. 

I had no idea if he’d even show up. I tried to pretend that I wasn’t nauseous all day when they were texting in a group, just like we used to before things exploded. Before I exploded. 

So I decided that Harry’s presence tonight wouldn’t make or break me. His presence at all throughout my time in New York wouldn’t break me. 

I didn’t want to be the bomb that someone needed to diffuse. I kept watch of the door and acted as if I wasn’t checking my phone for an update, simultaneously hoping he’d show up and hoping that I’d never have to face him. 

But when the clock ticked closer to closing time and I stifled another yawn--apparently being sober in bars past midnight just made you exhausted--a feeling of disappointment was left circling in my chest. Maybe he didn’t want to see me. Maybe he just couldn’t do it. 

Around 1am I climbed into the back of the car behind Jules, settled into my seat when she drunkenly giggled into Niall’s shoulder. I stared down at my phone screen and opened the group message from Harry. 

I’ll try to swing by.

It was the feeling that had hovered inside of me for a long time, knotted in my ribs and tangled in my lungs. The feeling that used to have me reaching for a bottle: Not good enough. 

But I noticed it, I knew it now. This was the moment I would have gone home and popped the champagne to let myself fall asleep without the echoing in my head: not good enough, not good enough, not good enough. 

It felt good to know I was on the other side, more insight, more awareness and friends from AA to text if it really got dark again. But I looked to the middle seats in front of me, Nialls and Jules laughed between themselves, the streets of Lower Manhattan passed by the tinted windows and somewhere back home my mom was pouring another glass and my dad was ignoring her. 

And yet I was okay. Something about time away from the band and time away from alcohol had taught me how to swim, no longer dragged beneath the surface by the uncomfortable emotions that tried to drown me for so long. I could fall asleep without the TV on and I wondered that night where he was, but I stayed afloat. 

I hyped myself up the next day to show up to Jules’ party an hour early. I tucked flowers in a vase and rolled my eyes when Niall blasted songs from our first EP over the speakers, can’t believe we thought this shit was good, we sound so young! Jules obsessed over which shade of lipstick she should wear and I just tried to keep my hands busy. 

Maybe he wouldn’t show up here, either. 

But people spilled in and their roof deck was the perfect spot for a summer birthday party. By dinnertime I pretended that I didn’t hate small talk and made nice with people I hadn’t seen in years. Nice to see you, I’ve been good, yeah still writing. This wasn’t about me--this was for Jules. 

He slipped in at some point, blended in with the crowd until I did another scan. My eyes caught his figure, a loosely buttoned shirt and a bracelet around his wrist that glistened in the sun when I stood frozen in place. 

Sunglasses shielded his eyes and his hair was longer than before--he moved with ease, after all, he hadn’t disappeared and cost people their jobs.

Ian laughed by my side as if this wasn’t a monumental moment, he joked with Miles and Vince about something unrelated when I blinked a few times, looked around to see if anyone else had noticed his arrival. Okay, the sudden change in the atmosphere was apparently only noticeable to me. 

I looked down at the red solo cup in my hand: cranberry juice, seltzer, a splash of lime. I excused myself quickly and weaved through the other people until I could slide the door to the master bedroom shut. The music was muffled on the other side of the wall, laughter from the party bounced against the door and now, I could breathe. In, out, inhale, exhale.

I walked over to the living room, met face to face with the bottles of liquor on the counter. It pulled me in, their labels and fancy names made my cheeks tingle. But instead of walking over and uncapping the tequila like I may have wanted to, I turned left down the hall, found myself in a room where they kept all their instruments. 

A piano in the corner, one Niall saved up for our sophomore year after his birthday. I went and looked at the words scribbled on note paper beside it, an old glass of water--did Jules bicker with him like a true girlfriend about leaving his dishes out? 

Beside it was a guitar, the one I’d gifted him after we signed the record label, the year we moved out of our first apartment. I plucked a few strings, a melody coming out when I let my fingers fumble through a progression. 

Maybe this is how I’d been doing it. The desire to drink was usually quelled with a song, the outpouring of whatever emotion I wanted to run from--just like I’d hurried inside to avoid Harry. 

He had the same hold over my heart whether I was drunk or sober, busy or bored. I’d been avoiding the vulnerability that he brought out of me, like the time he let me cut his hair and giggle in his sheets. I didn’t know what it was about him, something I felt I’d never fully capture in a song or in a sentence out loud. 

There are things that I sing 

that I'd never have the confidence to say

There are things I believe 

that I only figure out when I sit down to play

The door creaked, a figure on the other side of the room when I looked up and stopped singing. 

“Hi,” he said, his lips in a thin line like he didn’t know if he should smile or frown. 

I put the guitar back in its stand and stood up. “Hi--sorry, I was just messing around.”

“Sounded good,” he nodded, a cup in his hand that he sipped from when he broke our gaze. “You can keep going, if you want. What’s it about?”

He took a few steps closer to me, set the solo cup on the piano and then picked up the guitar. He pulled the strap over his shoulder and tuned it a bit, looked up at me when I didn’t reply. 

“Just a song,” I shrugged, unsure if the smirk on his face meant anything or if I was just reading too far into the dimple in his cheek. 

He plucked what I was playing, easily able to recreate the song when he sat on a stool. 

Nervousness in my words when they floated between us. “Shouldn’t we be outside?”

“S’been a minute since we wrote something together,” he shrugged. “Don’t think anyone will mind. Sing it again?”

I sat down, smoothed out the skirt of my dress and cleared my throat. I ran through the verse again, suddenly self conscious to be this real in front of him. This time I went on, eyes closed when it felt like the song had always existed.

The truth don't scare me in a melody, 

immortalizing my sincerity

There are things that I sing that 

I'd never have the confidence to say

Like that song about my parents that I'll never show 'em

 I paused, laughed a little when I didn’t know where to take it. He hummed for a second, knew we were almost at the hook. He filled in the rest like it was easy.

 And the ones about my exes that they don't deserve

But when it comes to you, I'm still trying to find the words

 “Hey,” Jules’ voice was at the door. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, yeah,” I stood up, Harry let out a laugh at my quick reaction. “Sorry--we were just--”

“Messing around,” he stole my words from earlier, looked up at me when he set the guitar back down. 

“I was just coming out,” I said, walking over to Jules. 

 “Me too,” Harry followed behind me quickly. 

 “You guys can stay,” she laughed, “you don’t have to come out.”

 “S’fine,” Harry said, my words muffled between: “we were done.”

 Jules rolled her eyes but headed back for the living room. “Glad you two are reacquainted,” she smiled over her shoulder. 

 I ignored her comment, Harry got pulled off by an old classmate and I fell into conversation with Eddie when he introduced me to the girl he’d started dating. I pinched his cheek and felt like a proud parent to learn he’d moved on from his crush on me--a true marker that time could heal all. 

I ignored the melody that burned in my head, stole glances at Harry and tried to make sense of the encounter we had shared. If nothing else came from tonight, at least I had the start of a new song.

I caught Ian up on the writing I’d done with other artists--he’d been in the loop and even given me a recommendation for a new manager when I moved to LA. But when the sun started to set and people started to get drunker than they’d been, I found myself sitting off to the side, tracing the pink skyline of the city that still felt like home. 

Niall kissed Jules on the cheek when she welcomed late arrivals--commotion on the other end of the roof deck--it felt reassuring to know that everyone’s world kept spinning without me at the center. 

“We’ll have to finish that one, eventually,” Harry sat down next to me, folded his arms across his chest when he smiled. “Might already have half the hook written up here,” he pointed to his temple.

I shifted down on the patio furniture, careful to keep enough room between us. 

“Pretty sure that’s my song,” I eyed him. “And now you’re writing it for me?”

He pushed his lips out in thought. “Could be ours, if you wanted.”

I rolled my eyes, tilted my head to the side. “Still just as annoying as I remembered.”

He smiled at that, quiet for a second when he held my gaze. “S’good to see you.”

I didn’t know how to reply, so I nodded my head. “Ditto.”

“Sorry I couldn’t make it last night, I was working and ended up staying late at the studio.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, looked at the glass in his hand. Clear--ice cubes that swirled around in the summer heat. “Is that vodka?” I changed the topic. “I thought you were a beer guy.”

“It’s water,” he shrugged. “Figured you shouldn’t be the only sober one here tonight.”

I bit at my lip, nodded at the sweet gesture but felt like words were stuck in my throat. “I didn’t know you knew.”

He let out a short laugh, “Jules isn’t great at keeping secrets.”

I shook my head, pretended to be annoyed when I teased: “never had any privacy in that band.”

“Yeah, well--we fucked a lot of things up.”

“We?” I eyed him suspiciously for a moment, certain he meant me. 

“I’m the one who couldn’t figure out how to not be a dick to you, so--yeah, we.”

“I think me being a liar and drunk all the time takes the cake, but I appreciate you saying that.”

“I didn’t say you don’t take the cake,” he laughed, knocking his knee against mine. “But I should have done a lot differently.”

I twisted a ring around my finger, pulled for more information. “Like?”

He smirked, rolled his eyes at my nosiness but then let out a sigh. “Fought with you less, called you out on your drinking sooner, not dated Lila,” he trailed off like maybe there was more, but I cut him off. 

“I don’t regret you dating Lila.”

“So I’ve heard,” he smiled. “So typical of you to steal my girlfriend.”

“You broke up with her!” I laughed. “We bonded over both going through big break ups. You dumped her, I broke up the band--it was a very healing experience for us to have each other. She’s a good friend, she always will be.”

He laughed, looked out at the sky and shrugged. “Yeah, she just wasn’t for me, I knew it all along,” he teased.

I pulled my head back. “Wait--if you knew that then why did you make me be so fucking nice to her?”

“I needed her to stick around,” he said this with a smirk, a dimple appeared in his cheek when he dropped my gaze and then looked down at his hands.

“Spill it,” I said, angling myself towards him. “You’re not telling me something.”

He let out a sigh, looked over at me and then rubbed at his eyes, almost like he was embarrassed. “I needed her to stick around because I wanted to make you jealous.”

“Make me jealous?! Of her? And being with you?”

He fought off a smile for a second, but when I let out a belly laugh and leaned back, he cracked. “It was stupid--we were in a constant push and pull back then and I didn’t know how to admit it to you that I was hurt when we broke--when we stopped sleeping together.”

I bit at the inside of my cheek, let his words float in the evening air high above the East Village. But then I nodded, voice small when I said: “yeah, it sucked. I’m sorry I made you keep my secret.”

He looked at me, almost surprised by my words, but then he let out a breath. “I’m sorry I held it over your head for so long. And tried to make you jealous.”

I watched a blinking light in the sky, a plane landing at LaGuardia or a star fizzling out. “I guess I deserved it.”

His eyebrows arched at that, a silent request for more information when I shrugged.

“I was basically always buzzed and lying to the most important people in my life. A hot mess would be an understatement.”

He bit back a laugh, nodded quietly. “I get it, though.”

My heart did a somersault, an uncomfortable feeling that lingered when the sky became a hazier orange. “You do?”

He nodded again, more confident this time, like he knew exactly how I felt without the slightest of explanation. “Grief does crazy shit to people. And I don’t think you ever got to heal yours.”

I clenched my jaw inadvertently, his words were true but plucked at something in me so deep and real that I didn’t have the words to reply. Luckily, he knew that. 

“We were both different people back then, I think.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “And a lot has changed.”

“Can I admit something?”

“Shoot.”

“My feelings haven’t.”

I looked over at him quickly, Jules’ words perched overhead like mistletoe. Twin flames--a soul connection that typically made me gag. This time, my heartbeat slowed and the anxiety I’d had about running into him seemed to dissipate, I nodded. I knew they hadn’t, I knew mine hadn’t, either. His words weren’t shocking, and when the last three years played over in my head, I wondered what would have happened if someone else had joined the band. 

I smiled, an unstable attempt at honesty and vulnerability. “I just wish we could have a fresh start, you know?”

He laughed at this, angled himself towards me when he smiled. “Nice to meet you, I’m Harry. What’s your name?”

I eyed him for a second, trying to decide if I thought his ploy to start fresh was stupid or romantic. I let my hand reach forward to shake his. “Cat,” I nodded, lips twisted into a smile before I could even meet his gaze. “Call me Cat.”

He tugged me closer to him, paused for a second before he let our lips meet. “Cat it is. But I think we have a song to finish.”

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[chrisevansgoodgirl]

Omg you’re 100% right with Ransom being obsessed with planning his birthday before anything else. And I bet that he’d want to spend like 80% of that time between your legs, the remaining 20% you on your knees between his legs, he’d have you so messy, you’d choke, cough and gurgle on his cock, your spit mixed with tears and precum, and he’d have to force himself not to cum from that sight. He would occasionally pull out and smear all the slick all over your face.

And the deal is, that his birthday was his time to take control of things, of you, so Halloween is supposed to be up to you, and he makes you believe it is, but he is a manipulative asshole. And you for once wanted to be cute and innocent, to just decorate the house in your cozy knitted leggings and Ransom’s cozy sweater, with him grunting and complaining about how all of it is stupid and he’s definitely not gonna help you bring the decorations down once Halloween’s over, and you would tell him it stays until it’s the time of Christmas decorations which would piss him even more. And eventually, you would end up cuddled on the couch watching scary movies, and let’s be real, Ransom is not handling the jump scares very well and you would just laugh at him and maybe distract him with some make out session - if you’re not giving out candies at the time.

But oh well, Ransom is a manipulative asshole and all that goes out of the window when he chooses your Slutty Halloween Costume and makes you decorate the house in that. So much skin would be on display and the worst thing? He wouldn’t do anything about it. He would look and stare, he would order you around, he’d make you rearrange the stuff countless times and you would let him, but he wouldn’t touch you. Even when he lets you have a little break, and he goes to the kitchen to prepare a snack for the two of you (because come on, he’s a fucking jerk, but taking care of you comes naturally to him). So he’s chopping some vegetables and fruits, and you come to the kitchen and just start to cling to him and tell him how you’re cold and you juts want him to warm you up. And he dismisses you and that’s the last straw. So when he hands you the plate, you refuse, you refuse to eat anything, you refuse to drink anything, and that’s getting on his nerves for change. And you’re still cold and you need to get a little warmer, so you stomp into your bedroom, slam the door shut and lock it, all loud so Ransom hears. And he does, along with the vibrating sound followed by your moans. He bangs on the door, yelling that if you don’t stop right that second you’re so in for it. But you didn’t stop, you made yourself cum, not bothering to clean yourself up, so when you came out of the room, he would smell it on you.

And so, when it’s time for the movie marathon - which Ransom wanted to avoid too, but after your stunt he decided he’d give you what you wanted - he has you with your back against your chest and every time someone screams, someone goes somewhere they shouldn’t, someone yells “is somebody there/who’s there”, someone gets killed, everytime creepy music plays, he brings you to an orgasm.

There is no time for you to answer the door with trick-or-treaters behind them, but your screams from Ransom making you cum are too scary for the children to even consider coming close to your house.

Happy Halloween in advance😚🎃🍂🦇🧡

PS: You really like the hair? Like come onnnn, it’s like cemented!!! I mean, when he’s with Marta in the restaurant or whatever it was and when they’re at his house, yeah yeah, it’s kind of messy and stuff and I like that!! But at the will reading? I’d be scared to touch it🥴😂

hello, beautiful person. and thank you for providing us all with ransom content bc saaaaaaaammmmmeeee, guys. fall = ransom. i will hear no arguments. (and this is where i have to just say the obvious. steve rogers is summer. ari, frank, colin, nick g, jensen are spring. daddy andy, curtis, freezy, nick v, mike are winter. idk why i feel this way, but i will not change my mind. also, can someone talk to me about what season johnny is? I'll hear opinions on this. i know we wanna say summer, but steve rogers is summer bc he's happiness and sun and parks and Brooklyn days and nights, and i fucking love him. johnny is not the same kind. anyway, sorry, it's 2am and I'm having random thoughts.)

Omg you’re 100% right with Ransom being obsessed with planning his birthday before anything else.

and this is where you learn how particular this bitch is. which is why i also know ransom would not skip his wedding planning. hell no. he wants the events to be exactly how he wants them. he's so used to the thrombey events that he feels obligated to attend and there are so many things he starts to hate, so when he's with you and you encourage him to plan his own birthdays, you end up creating a monster. spoiling him that first year you guys were together made him realize how much you actually liked him and now we know why ransom is the way he is. he knows you're never going to leave him.

And I bet that he’d want to spend like 80% of that time between your legs, the remaining 20% you on your knees between his legs,

like literally. party planning between fucking you. sometimes he will be a dick and stop when you are right there bc he needs to "write something down" you know, just so he doesn't "forget". he never forgets anything though, you learned that the hard way. (or put in another way: he's a petty bitch and a kitchen sink arguer)

he’d have you so messy, you’d choke, cough and gurgle on his cock, your spit mixed with tears and precum, and he’d have to force himself not to cum from that sight. He would occasionally pull out and smear all the slick all over your face.

nothing to add here at all. 100% perfection. talented. brilliant. incredible. amazing. showstopping. spectacular.

And the deal is, that his birthday was his time to take control of things, of you,

I'm literally about to cry. thinking about how he can have anything in the world, anyone, but what does he really want for his birthday??? just you. just you in his bed, in the house, alone, no presents, no extra shit. just you and him.

and like, really. that whole bullshit party planning thing is basically just ransom's emotionally stunted way of checking in on you just to make sure that you still feel strongly for him and that you'll still put up with his antics. which you have yet to figure out, which he enjoys thoroughly. he's caught you a few times in the middle of a fit over his odd requests. but you're a champ and you stop immediately when you notice him, forcing smiles and a light voice, and promise that you're fine and you'll figure it out.

but seriouslyyyyyyyy. you don't say no to Ransom. starting October 1st, it's just not in your vocabulary bc he's such a pouty bitch. so it's not as if most nights don't end in sex, it's just kind of a guarantee as soon as October rolls around. and it's not really like you say no a lot, but you do put in a lot more effort and he feels absolutely spoiled. the lingerie budget for October through mid-November is obscene. but anyway, back to the point

so Halloween is supposed to be up to you, and he makes you believe it is, but he is a manipulative asshole.

and all the years prior, he would be so condescending! You would be like 'oh, i wanna plan the parties' or 'can i pick the costumes?' and he just baby talks to you about how he's so good at it, so why can't he just do it? and eventually you would agree, but not this year! you wanna plan things, too

And you for once wanted to be cute and innocent, to just decorate the house in your cozy knitted leggings and Ransom’s cozy sweater,

which isn't necessarily sexy, like in the traditional sense, but he fucking loves to watch it.

with him grunting and complaining about how all of it is stupid and he’s definitely not gonna help you bring the decorations down once Halloween’s over,

and you say shit back like 'fine, I'll take everything down myself' but he knows he's not gonna allow that. you on a ladder is just a mess, he's had several hundred heart attacks watching you gamble with the safety rules of ladders.

and you would tell him it stays until it’s the time of Christmas decorations which would piss him even more.

dead ass, those decorations stay up until the day after thanksgiving. and he rolls his eyes every time someone comments on it, especially his parents who just like to poke fun bc they know he's only leaving them up for you. (one year, he did take them down. there are many reasons he'll never do that again.)

And eventually, you would end up cuddled on the couch watching scary movies, and let’s be real, Ransom is not handling the jump scares very well

and constantly complains. like 'they have to use those jump scares bc this movie isn't actually scary'

and you would just laugh at him and maybe distract him with some make out session - if you’re not giving out candies at the time.

which is just something that worries him. of course you think you want children every time you see a family with matching costumes! maybe you really do, maybe you do. hell, maybe he might even want kids, but you guys haven't even had that conversation. and that's mainly bc he's terrified of having the conversation.

But oh well, Ransom is a manipulative asshole and all that goes out of the window when he chooses your Slutty Halloween Costume and makes you decorate the house in that.

nun. nurse. school girl. angel. devil. there really is no shortage of ways that ransom wants to torture you.

So much skin would be on display and the worst thing? He wouldn’t do anything about it. He would look and stare, he would order you around, he’d make you rearrange the stuff countless times and you would let him, but he wouldn’t touch you.

and it's really just about who breaks first. you're already getting an attitude and he really likes that when you're so naked. but you know you're wet and you really don't want another lecture about how the fucking spider webs are not evenly spread. you literally just want this man inside you and his god damn hand around your neck.

Even when he lets you have a little break, and he goes to the kitchen to prepare a snack for the two of you (because come on, he’s a fucking jerk, but taking care of you comes naturally to him). So he’s chopping some vegetables and fruits, and you come to the kitchen and just start to cling to him and tell him how you’re cold and you juts want him to warm you up. And he dismisses you and that’s the last straw. So when he hands you the plate, you refuse, you refuse to eat anything, you refuse to drink anything, and that’s getting on his nerves for change.

if you wanna get really toxic...you could start throwing things. like he holds out the plate to you and you swipe it out of his hands like an angry kitten. and you push over the glass of water and make a mess on the counter. and he is furious.

And you’re still cold and you need to get a little warmer, so you stomp into your bedroom, slam the door shut and lock it, all loud so Ransom hears. And he does, along with the vibrating sound followed by your moans. He bangs on the door, yelling that if you don’t stop right that second you’re so in for it. But you didn’t stop, you made yourself cum, not bothering to clean yourself up, so when you came out of the room, he would smell it on you.

And so, when it’s time for the movie marathon - which Ransom wanted to avoid too, but after your stunt he decided he’d give you what you wanted - he has you with your back against your chest and every time someone screams, someone goes somewhere they shouldn’t, someone yells “is somebody there/who’s there”, someone gets killed, everytime creepy music plays, he brings you to an orgasm.

and does not care if you're overstimulated!

There is no time for you to answer the door with trick-or-treaters behind them, but your screams from Ransom making you cum are too scary for the children to even consider coming close to your house.

thank you! And happy Halloween back! and okay, listen. i do like the hair, 🤣🤣🤣 it's not like i wanna run my fingers through it or anything. but it would def play into my fantasies when i would want him to pretend to be talking down to me bc he's rich and I'm not tbh

[mitch-the-simp]

Oscar design + More Hcs

Finally, I finished the concept design of Oscar, so here it is, as promised.

I wasn’t joking when I said he looked like Bruno!

(This is just him in his uniform, but he wears a poncho over it on a daily basis. He's just forced to take the poncho off on special occasions.)

And then we have Oscar with his poncho bc he gives no fucks

More Oscar HCs

Hates kids, only tolerates Antonio bc he's his cousin and he's used to him.

"Eww... People..." *walks back into his room*

Well, not miss an opportunity to be a smartass.

"Well, actually, she wouldn't die from touching a sundew by accident, Isabella. She would only feel slight discomfort where the plant touched her." *walks away*

His hobby is judging people and he's good at it.

"I'm sorry, but did you wake up like this? Because it looks like you tossed and turned all night, got up, left that mop you call your hair untouched, then went about your day."

Puts Marta's hair up in a ponytail and fusses about how her hair is messy.

"DO YOUR HAIR MARTA! IT LOOKS LIKE A BIRD LAYS HER EGGS IN THERE!"

Ironically does not do his own hair.

Likes scaring people in the town.

Also likes to take advantage that he's an "Engendro diobolico de Bruno" and simply tells people they'll die in their sleep if they bother him.

His eyes shine green (they're already green anyway, so they basically just shine) when he's made his final decision on whether a soul gets to pass through or not. Same when he's deciding whether you're worth his time.

I said it before, but he's very obsessed with the passing of time (mostly because he's worried about the future and him not having enough time etc). He'll go through the lengths of having a timer with him at all times. He is also checking his pocket watch all the time and has posters that relate to time all around the station.

"OH! LOOK AT THE TIME!" (buts it's not sarcastic, he's actually in a real hurry)

He doesn't consider reading a pastime, he sees it as work too.

"Nope, can't. I have work." is his main excuse to not do anything.

Can summon any dead person he needs into the living world EXCEPT for his dead family members.

*summons random man* "Alright, mind telling us what you were doing at *insert time*?"

Scaring kids is his pastime.

*walks up to the three kids from the first song* "What do we have here? Perfect early death material~" *the kids run off screaming in fear*

Really misses Bruno, even though he barely remembers how he looks like.

When Bruno talks to him through the walls, he sheds a few silent tears of joy.

When Bruno comes back at the end, he sees him and tries to be mad about him being alive and not coming back.

"You... I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD! ALL THESE YEARS AND YOU LET ME BELIEVE YOU WERE DEAD!? PUT YOUR DUKES UP, OLD MAN! PUT THEM...up..." *breaks down and cries*

Hugs Bruno tightly afterward bc he misses his dad.

Cries when Bruno says he's proud of him.

He doesn't like to admit how much he loves Bruno, but everyone knows his dad is his hero.

I mentioned in my previous post that he really tolerates Mirabel, and by that I mean he shows her the most patience.

Oscar: "NEXT IN LINE" *sees Mirabel and sighs* "What now? Oh, and make it quick."

Mirabel: "Hey Oscar, you know, I was talking to Luisa earlier and you know what happened yesterday with the magic and what not... So I was wondering if you know anything about what your dad saw in his vision."

Oscar: *knocking on his desk* Knock Knock Knock Knock Knock Knock, Knock on wood. *turns back to her* No I don't know what he saw, goodbye Mirabel. NEXT IN LINE!"

Mirabel: "NO WAIT-" *gets pushed out of line, but runs into his office* "Do you, uh, know of anyone who might know?"

Oscar: *would not normally do this EVER* Have you perhaps tried asking my mom?

Mirabel: "Thank you, Oscar! You're my favorite cousin."

Oscar: "Yeah right, I don't guarantee you she knows anything though, but if anyone could know it's her." *sighs, then throws salt behind his back*

For some reason, he can vibe with Mirabel sometimes (he thinks he pities her, but he actually just cares about her and he just refuses to accept he cares about anyone but himself)

Tries his best to uphold a serious,"idk idc" image. Fails sometimes.

He literally looks like a corpse on full moons and takes full advantage of it.

Uses his appearance on full moons as an excuse to not attend events.

"You don't want to invite a corpse to your party, or do you?"

Thank you guys for the support! <3

Don't forget my requests are always open, so don't be shy! I'm trying to build up an audience! <3

Anyway,

Thank you guys,

-Mitch

[authorbarbie]

Things That Are Deadly

Summary: Your husband’s family has always been a little unconventional, but you never thought it would end in murder. 

CONTAINS KNIVES OUT SPOILERS.

“You sure you’re not coming to the funeral?”

“No,” Ransom said with a shake of his head. “I, uh, don’t think I can handle it. They won’t miss me anyway.”

“Okay,” you agreed, your hands smoothing down the black dress you wore. You were well aware of your husband’s tumultuous relationship with his grandfather; how they liked to challenge one another; both literally with games of Go and mentally with constant back-and-forth bickering, how Ransom (and by default, you) had just recently been cut from the novelist’s will, and how, despite it all, you knew that Harlan really had loved his grandson. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

After giving Ransom a kiss goodbye, you turned to leave, only stopping when he called after you.

“Text me when you’re coming home?”

Despite the request being a little unusual — while Ransom did like to know that you got to your destination safely, he was fine with you spending as much time away as you liked, what with you being a grown woman that was perfectly capable of handling herself and all — you decided to give him a break. His grandfather had just committed suicide, for god’s sake.

“You got it, babe.” With a smile thrown over your shoulder, you quickly left your home, funeral bound.

As soon as the door had closed shut behind you, Ransom’s own smile fell.

Making his way to the window, he peeled back the curtains just enough to peek through, and watched while you got into your car, paused briefly to check your hair and make-up in the mirror, and then finally drove off. An exhale left the man’s lips and he checked his watch, waiting for another minute or two (just in case you had forgotten anything and decided to come back) before he, too, grabbed his car keys and left the house.

But Ransom hadn’t had a change of heart about attending the funeral.

His mind was set on covering his tracks.

●  ●  ●

The funeral was the quintessential burial you had been expecting. There was an undeniable tension in the air (there always was with the Thrombeys), tears were shed, snide remarks were made.

As soon as you had arrived, noticeably without Ransom, your in-laws had jumped at the chance to criticise your husband for his lack of respect.

“Spoiled brat,” Walt had muttered under his breath.

“You really expected anything different?” Richard, your father-in-law replied.

“How he got her to marry him, I’ll never know,” Joni commented with a gesture towards you.

“I’m right here,” you jumped into the conversation smoothly, startling the trio. “If you have anything to say about me, at least have the balls to say it to my face.”

The conversation changed gears quickly after that, with Joni insisting she didn’t mean it like that to which you simply smiled and nodded, deciding to let it go this time, considering the whole ‘dead relative’ situation. Not only that, but Joni was probably the one you were closest to in the family (other than Ransom, of course). She may have been a little eccentric, perhaps even a little crafty, but she was also smart, innovative, and one of the few who understood the pain that could come with marrying into this particular family.

“Crazy, huh?”

You turned to find Linda, your mother-in-law, standing next to you with red-rimmed eyes and a tissue in hand.

“Hm?”

“It’s like one minute we’re celebrating his life at a birthday party and the next…” Linda paused to take a deep breath. “How did we end up here?”

You couldn’t help but agree with her. Harlan’s 85th birthday party was still fresh in your mind; the event having been only last week, and much like every other Thrombey gathering, it hadn’t all been smooth sailing.

●  ●  ●

“I know you don’t always get along with your family but it’s your grandfather, Ran,” you said as the two of you approached the large house, your hand tucked into the crook of his arm.

“Yeah, I know,” Ransom replied, not bothering to knock or ring the doorbell. Instead, he walked inside like he lived there himself, ignoring the looks of disgust from Meg and Fran. “Doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.”

“A few hours won’t kill anyone,” you said with a twitch of your lips, a feeble attempt at optimism.

Ransom chuckled as he shed his coat. “Fine. But if I look like I’m in distress, you better come save me.”

“Deal.”

The two of you then departed with a kiss on the cheek, wandering around the house to make the usual rounds of greetings and small talk. Well, you did. Ransom had chosen to go straight for the alcohol instead, and after attempting a conversation with Jacob, Walt’s internet troll of a son, you soon wished you had followed in your husband’s footsteps.

Repressing a shiver that always came after talking to the annoying teenager, you felt a flood of relief when you finally spotted a friendly face.

“Marta!”

“Hi,” Marta smiled politely as she leaned against the wall, “how are you?”

“I’m good! Well, as good as you can be at one of these things,” you joked which seemed to help ease her nerves. When Fran passed by and offered a glass of champagne, you gratefully accepted and took a long sip. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, just… technically still working.”

Marta, Harlan’s nurse and caregiver, was a sweet soul. Always looking out for others, always working diligently. It was no wonder Harlan was so fond of her.

“You’re too good, Marta,” you smiled, making the woman blush before your attention was drawn elsewhere.

A heated debate was occurring in the living room, seemingly Joni and Linda versus Richard. You caught certain words — “immigrants”, “cages”, “America” — so it wasn’t difficult to figure out the topic of conversation and it’s safe to say, it wasn’t a pleasant one.

“Marta! Get over here!”

You glanced nervously at Marta, resisting the strong urge that overcame you to punch Richard straight in the nose. Despite it being his father, you were fairly certain Ransom wouldn’t mind. In fact, he’d probably encourage it.

“You don’t have to—" you began.

“Richard, leave the girl alone,” Linda chided her husband.

Marta spared you a glance, swallowing hard before she began to shuffle towards the group, albeit reluctantly. What followed was more bigoted ignorance from Richard, anxiety from Marta, and solid arguments from Joni. You had just opened your mouth to put your own two cents in when a separate, somehow louder argument was heard.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me!”

You knew that voice. Oh, Ransom, what happened this time?

Just as suspected, Ransom stormed out of his grandfather’s office, snatching up his previously discarded coat and walking out the door. Harlan appeared from the office a moment later with a sigh and you suddenly felt everyone’s eyes on you.

“I’ll just… go deal with that, then.” You placed your now empty glass on a table as you walked by, the cool night air hitting your skin when you threw the front door open to find Ransom. But instead, all you saw was the taillights of his car driving off in the distance.

You gaped at the sight, willing him to turn around, but nothing came. With a huff, you re-entered the house and grabbed your phone to call him. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t answer. Now fuming, you chose to send off multiple angry text messages — “What the fuck was that?”, “You better answer me” and “You just left me here?!?” to name a few — but it seemed he wasn’t interested.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that you’d just been abandoned by your husband, and the family shared pitying looks behind your back while you stared at your phone dejectedly.

“Hey,” Joni said, placing her hands on your shoulders. “It’s okay. You can just stay in Meg and I’s room tonight.”

You hesitated, looking over at Harlan for confirmation.

“You are always welcome here,” the older man agreed. He may have had some problems with Ransom, but never with you— you had your own job, you made your own money, and you seemed to make his grandson happy. That was more than enough in his eyes.

You thanked the man profusely, and when you woke up the next morning, after sleeping in the room’s extra bed, to Meg commenting about how loud the dogs had been during the night, the first thing you did was check your phone. Thankfully, you had gotten a few texts from Ransom, apologising and saying he would pick you up soon and explain everything.

Once you found out that he’d been taken out of Harlan’s will, his overreaction suddenly made a lot more sense… But that hadn’t stopped you from letting him grovel for forgiveness.

●  ●  ●

Not long after the funeral, the detectives arrived. Despite Harlan’s death being accepted by most as a suicide, Detective Blanc disagreed, making the whole family go through extensive questioning and constantly hovering around the home like a gnat. He was there for the memorial and for the reading of the will, which had turned the entire family (except yourself and Ransom) against poor Marta, who had been left all of Harlan’s assets.

On the way out, Ransom had quickly urged Marta, who had been surrounded by angry Thrombeys, to get in the car, and the three of you helped her escape to a cosy restaurant, away from prying eyes.

It was there that you discovered Marta was the murderer. Although unintentionally, she had given Harlan an overdose of morphine the night of his birthday party, and her employer had devised what he saw as a foolproof plan to ensure she would never be caught.

By the time you and Ransom had gotten home later that day, after dropping a shaken Marta off at her apartment, your mind was reeling.

“I can’t believe this,” you said as the two of you clambered out of the car. “Poor Harlan... Poor Marta.”

“She’ll figure it out,” Ransom replied calmly. “If my grandfather wanted her to have the money then that’s the way it’s gotta be.”

“Yeah,” you nodded absently, unlocking the door and picking up the mail that had been shoved through the letterbox onto the floor. “God, it feels like our lives have turned into a huge game of Clue.”

Ransom chuckled. “You’re not wrong.”

Deft fingers flipped through the pile of mail in your hands, brows furrowing at the sight of an unmarked envelope. Intrigued, you dropped the rest of the mail on the table and pulled the envelope’s contents free. The sheet of paper in your hands was from the medical examiner’s office— a photocopy of a toxicology report that seemed to be missing vital information about the actual blood work. A quick look at the patient’s name told you this was a part of Harlan’s autopsy.

“What the…”

At the bottom of the page, written in black marker, was one simple phrase: I KNOW WHAT YOU DID. Below that was an address and a time of day; presumably to schedule some kind of meet-up.

Was this... blackmail?

“What’s up?” Ransom asked, having returned from the kitchen with a drink in hand. When you didn’t answer, instead choosing to stare at the information in front of you, he took the page from your hand and read it for himself. In an instant, his demeanour changed.

“What is this?” you asked quietly, finally looking at your husband who tried to appear more casual than he felt. His weak attempts only made him look more guilty.

“I don’t know—”

“Don’t lie to me,” you snapped with a sinking feeling in your stomach.

Ransom shifted uncomfortably, hand moving to scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck. Your throat felt like it was closing up. Tears had already begun to prick at the back of your eyes.

“Ransom... What did you do?”

[cherienymphe]

Call Me Ransom (Ransom Drysdale x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON CON! IF THIS OFFENDS YOU PLEASE DNI! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Summary: Ransom has always been nice to you. You never thought to question it until it was too late.

~

There were very few instances in your life where you regretted any of your choices. There was the time your aunt told you to stop messing with that small hole in the ground when you were 7. Not only did you regret disobeying her for your sake, but for your cousin’s too as the both of you were chased by bees. Once, in middle school, your best friend had told you not to go out with the most popular boy in your grade. You found out why when you realized he’d only asked you out on a dare.

When every member of the Thrombey family told you how horrible Ransom Drysdale was, you didn’t listen.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe them, per say. Sure, you’d seen how horribly he treated his relatives. How nasty he was to Fran, and sometimes Marta too. You’d seen it with your own eyes, and while it definitely bothered you, you couldn’t help but feel that he couldn’t be all bad. After all, he was so nice to you. He had been from the very first moment you’d been hired.

Fran was friends with your mother, and when freshman year of college came around, and you were in desperate need of a job, Fran was the one to put in a good word for you with Harlan Thrombey himself. He was an old eccentric man, full of so much life at his age. You’d seen how he behaved with Marta and often found yourself hoping you never lost your spirit either when you got that old.

Your first encounter with Ransom wasn’t the best as far as first impressions went. It was during winter break of the first year you’d gotten hired. You’d only been working there for a few months but had still yet to see the infamous “shit stain” as Meg liked to call him. You were helping Fran, in the process of going from room to room, changing the sheets. You weren’t aware that he was home, and so when you opened the door of one of the guest bedrooms, you were met with the half-naked sight of him. He was in the process of changing clothes, and the sight startled you, causing you to drop the sheets you were carrying before hurrying out of the room, a thousand apologies slipping out.

When he found you, you were downstairs, wiping down a window, trying to erase the memory of his bare chest and thick thighs from your mind. You felt him rather than heard him and turned to face him with a fright. He was so close, and you stumbled back as he ran his blue eyes over you with an unreadable expression. You had swallowed, glancing down at the sheets in his hand before hesitantly taking them as he handed them to you.

“Hugh, I’m… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that you were here, and if I’d had any idea I would have knocked.”

You were quick to stutter out an apology. After all, you’d heard the worst things of him for months, and you were genuinely afraid of losing your job because you walked in on Hugh Ransom Thrombey while he was changing clothes. He was an asshole, everyone had told you, and you believed it. He made “the help” call him Hugh for Christ’s sake.

He didn’t respond at first, simply opting for looking down his nose at you. You took another step back, heart racing as he eyed you. You felt like you were going to be sick as you waited for him to say something, anything. You were expecting the worse to come from him. An insult, a slur, a threat of losing your job, but he said none of those things. He simply said:

“Call me Ransom.”

He had brushed past you before you had time to respond to that, leaving you to blink in confusion.

It was the beginning of an odd and unexpected friendship…if you could call it that. The two of you weren’t attached at the hip or anything every time he came to the mansion, but sometimes he talked to you. Sometimes before leaving the house, he’d asked what you thought of what he was wearing. If he saw you struggling to lift something, he’d come by and help without saying a word. He’d snap at Jacob or, hell, even Linda if they were rude to you over something that was, 9 times out of 10, out of your control.

You’d always throw him a small appreciative smile, tentatively at first as you were still wary of him.

“Thank you, Hugh,” you’d say.

His reply would always be the same.

“Call me Ransom.”

It became sort of an inside joke between the two of you. You’d continue to call him Hugh, because you just didn’t feel right calling him Ransom. Not only was he technically your employer, but he still required Fran and Marta and anyone else who worked for the family to call him Hugh. It didn’t seem fair, but he would smirk every time, that strange look in his eyes as he told you to call him Ransom.

He treated you differently, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you fucking Ransom?” Meg asked you one day.

You’d blanched, eyes going wide as you paused in the middle of your dusting. She pressed the juul to her lips, briefly turning away to exhale as she waited for you to answer.

“No,” you gasped, blinking at her in confusion. “Why…why would you ask me that?”

Meg rolled her eyes before falling back into the chair.

“…because he treats you like a human being, and Ransom doesn’t treat anyone even remotely decent unless he’s fucking them…or trying to,” she explained, eyeing you.

“No,” you reiterated, frantically shaking your head.

She threw her hands up in defense.

“Hey, I just wanted to ask what no one else had the balls to,” she said, and you paused again.

You blinked, lowering your arm as you stared at her in horror.

“What does that mean?” you whispered. “D-do they think…? Does everyone think that?”

She pulled another drag before nodding.

“Yeah,” she said, exhaling with a shrug. “I mean, it’s no big deal. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Well, maybe he has no interest in doing that with the employees here anymore,” you murmured, turning back around.

You heard her scoff.

“Yeah, right. Ransom passing on the opportunity to stick his dick in anything that moves? I don’t think so…”

“Well, he has,” you defended. “He had the chance. Plenty of them, in fact.”

You didn’t know why you were so defensive. Maybe it was because you felt like he was your friend. You believed the stories about him, you did. You saw with your own eyes how he talked to Jacob and Walt, sometimes. For some reason though, he didn’t treat you that way. Was Meg right?

“Look, (Y/N). I know he’s nice to you,” she started, sounding closer. “…but listen to me when I say he’s just biding his time. After all, that first chance he did have, you, how did you put it, ran away like a scared chicken? He’s just being smart about it this time around.”

She placed her hand on your shoulder with a sad smile as you turned to look at her.

“You’re so nice. Nicer than he deserves, and I really just wish he’d quit playing games with you. Nothing good ever comes out of it.”

You contemplated her words as she walked away, suddenly feeling foolish. Was Ransom really just playing nice, earning your trust just to strike?

A year and a half later you still thought about that conversation from time to time. Mostly on how wrong Meg had been. Ransom had never been anything but nice to you, and even you couldn’t believe he’d be that motivated to “play games” with you for the better part of two years. His odd behavior towards you still threw you for a loop, sometimes. Especially considering how cold and callous he was towards everyone else, but you’d just accepted that for whatever reason, he treated you differently.

Maybe he took pity on how skittish you were. That definitely seemed like a more plausible reason. Ransom probably thought you were a pitiful mess, not worth toying with. That was more than fine with you. On the off chance he brought a guest to the home, you saw how he treated them the morning after. How distant and malicious he was as he, sometimes quite literally, shoved them out of the door. He’d been so nice to you. You didn’t think you could handle it if he treated you that way.

You stepped into the house early that morning, prepared to begin your shift. However, you’d barely been in the mansion for five minutes when Ransom found you.

“(Y/N), there’s a broken vase upstairs that needs to be dealt with,” he said, and the way he rushed it out told you all you needed to know.

“What did you do this time?” you asked with a sigh as you straightened.

He smirked, a small chuckle escaping his lips as you followed him out of the living room and into the hallway.

“I had too much to drink last night. Decided to come by here and sleep it off. I didn’t realize I’d broken the damn thing until I woke up this morning. I’m hoping I can replace it before Harlan notices. Either that, or I’ll just tell him Fran swiped it.”

You frowned at him as you followed him up the stairs.

“Hugh,” you reprimanded.

He smirked, glancing at you.

“I’ve told you a thousand times to call me Ransom,” he said, stopping at one of the guest rooms. “It’s in here.”

You pushed the door open, walking inside to assess how big of a mess it was. You scanned the room, a frown making its way onto your face as you noted that not one thing was out of place.

“Hugh is this the right…,” you trailed off as you turned and watched him shut the door behind him. “…room?”

He chuckled, reaching behind him to lock the door, head tilting as he studied you.

“What are you doing?” you quietly asked, a feeling of dread settling in your stomach.

“I wanted to talk to you…alone,” he added as he walked towards you.

You started to take a step back before deciding against it, eyes flickering between the locked door and him.

“…okay,” you responded in an unsure tone.

However, he didn’t say anything as he approached you. Your eyes were wide, lips parting in shock when he reached out to pull you closer, leaning his head down as he tilted yours up. Your eyes remained open when his lips softly met yours, a million thoughts running through your head when he kissed you. His lips were soft, the softest you’d ever felt, and you almost let yourself enjoy it.

Almost.

You stumbled back in shock, reaching up to brush your fingers along your lips as he heaved a sigh. He sounded annoyed.

“Hugh…we can’t. I work for your grandfather and, by extension, you. I-I can’t do that,” you protested.

The corner of his lips quirked upwards just the tiniest bit. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it was a smile.

“No one is going to care. Thanks to me, they already think we’re having sex every time I come around, anyway.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a small gasp escaping you as you processed what he said.

“…what? Is that why you’ve been so kind to me? So your family would think we’re sleeping together…just to make it easier for us to actually sleep together?” you quietly asked.

“You seemed like the kind of girl who wouldn’t jump right into things. I had to soften you up somehow…”

You blinked at him, throat tightening as your eyes began to burn. His eyebrows furrowed, smirk growing as he took in your reaction.

“Did you think I was being nice to you out of the kindness of my heart?”

The way he asked that was so condescending, and it made you feel stupid. You looked away, and you heard him scoff in disbelief.

“You did,” he said, more so to himself.

You took a deep shaky breath, licking your lips as you fought not to cry. There was the most awful pain in your chest. You thought he was your friend…

“Look, Hugh…,” you started, looking at him.

His nostrils flared.

“Call me Ransom-.”

“I take my job very seriously, Hugh. Okay? Fran stuck her neck out to get me this job, and I’m not going to screw it up by…by screwing you.”

He straightened, pushing his shoulders back as he looked down his nose at you.

“I’m sorry if I led you on or made you believe something that wasn’t true. I genuinely thought you were my friend. I realize, now how foolish that was, and I’m sorry,” you whispered, walking past him.

His hand covered yours when you went to open the door, and you looked up at him. He was so close, chiseled features hardened as he hummed at you.

“Your job is to take care of the house. To keep my family happy and make our stay here as pleasant as possible whenever we come around. You’re not keeping me happy, (Y/N), and I’ll be forced to tell my grandfather that you just aren’t taking your job very seriously…”

Your eyes widened as you caught onto what he was insinuating. You stared at him like that for a painful amount of time as your heart broke for a second time that day. You swallowed, allowing the tears to finally spill over.

“You…you would do that…to me? Because I won’t sleep with you?” you spat.

“It just seems to me that you don’t care about your job. I don’t think Harlan would want anyone around who doesn’t put their best effort into their work,” was his response.

You took a deep breath, lips trembling as you glared at him.

“You can tell him whatever you like. There are other jobs. I’m not going to fuck you just so I can keep this one,” you threw at him, snatching your hand away.

Neither one of you said a word as you glared at each other. His jaw clenched, and you could tell that that wasn’t what he had been expecting. Without another word, you turned back to the door, barely opening it when he slammed his hand against it, shutting it. You looked up at him with a glower.

“Hugh-.”

Your words were cut off as he wrapped his hand around your throat, slamming you against it. You gasped, fighting to get his hand off of you when you realized that his other was unbuttoning your jeans. You reach down to stop him, but it was already too late. His fingers were suddenly at your core, grazing along your sensitive flesh as you tried to twist away from him.

Your fight only fueled him, gasping when he pushed one finger inside of you, followed by another. One of your hands clenched around his wrist, trying to get him to stop while the other tried to get him to loosen his group around your neck. He bent his head, kissing along your collarbone as he stroked your walls that were slowly, but surely, becoming slick.

Tears sprung to your eyes all over again once you realized that he was tightening his grip. It was getting hard for you to breathe, and the soft pants that were leaving your lips were growing fainter and fainter. He was pulling you, forcing you towards the bed as his fingers continued to stroke that fire inside of you. When he pushed you back onto it, your vision was spinning, colors blending together, darkness kissing the edges of your sight.

When he finally let go, you were gasping for breath, struggling to sit up as your body tried to right itself. When everything finally stood still, you realized that your pants and underwear were already to your ankles, and with one final tug, Ransom had them across the room. You sat up in a panic only for him to push you back down, shushing you as soft sobs began to leave you.

“Ransom, please,” you begged him, calling him by his middle name for the first time in your life.

He paused, running his crystal gaze over your half naked form, hands sliding up your stomach to push your shirt up, exposing your breasts.

“Say it again,” he quietly ordered.

You saw the glint in his eye, and frantically shook your head.

“No, stop-!”

You cut yourself off in a panic, hands pushing against him as he undid his pants just enough for his cock to spring forward. It was angry and red and leaking with precum as he lowered himself onto you completely.

“Ransom! Ransom, stop!”

It was like you were screaming at the air. He brought one hand up to cover your mouth while the other guided himself inside of you. A guttural groan left his lips as you squeezed him, a hiss escaping between his teeth when his hips met yours. You gasped into his hand, chest heaving as your body fought to get used to the feel of him.

Sooner than you would have liked, he was pulling back only to shove himself inside of you again. His thrusts were slow, but forceful, moving the mattress with the movement. Soft pants were leaving his lips as he hovered over you, working his hips against yours. He slowly slid his hand off of your mouth, brushing his fingers along your jaw as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Say my name,” he breathed.

You frantically shook your head, fighting the pleasure that was beginning to bubble inside of you.

“No,” you refused, gasping when he increased his pace.

He reached down, pushing his arms under your thighs as he pushed your legs back towards you. An unidentifiable noise left you at the feel of this new angle. He was hitting a spot inside of you that hurt so good, and you dug your nails into his back.

“R-Ransom,” you begged.

Although, now you weren’t sure what you were begging for.

“Again,” he demanded, and you obliged.

Again, again, again. You came around him, milking him, with his name on your lips, begging him to stop. He didn’t. When you clenched around his cock for the third time, duties long unattended to, his hand was on your throat again, telling you to call him Ransom as he coated your insides with a groan.

Tags: @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @sebabestianstan101 

[blkgirlcafe]

The Chase PT. 7

Camila moaned out his name. Her nails raked up and down his back as Florian pounded into her. He was living up to the name Big Nasty, he didn't hold back in the bedroom. Florian's body completely covered her, Camila legs wrapped around his waist as he stroked her spot. Its been months since she had sex, and Florian had to stretch her out. 

“What is my name fetiță?” (babygirl). 

“Florian!” 

“Good Girl.” he nipped at her ear before sucking on her neck. 

“Oh fuck…” Camila sentence caught in her throat. Florian had changed speeds on her suddenly, from pounding into her wet core to grinding his hips into her, he was pressed right against her spot. 

“This pussy is mine baby, say it.”

“Fuck, its yours.”

“What is mine baby?”

He was so nasty, Camila loved it, “This pussy is your Florian.” 

“That is it, no one will make this pussy feel like I do.” 

“No one.” Camila agreed with him.

Florian pulled out, sitting back on his knees, stroking himself as his eyes looked her over. 

“Please…” she begged him. 

“What do you want, baby?” He had a devilish grin on his handsome face. 

“I want you to fuck me.” 

Closed mouths don't get fed, wasn't that the saying. 

He flipped her over and with ease, pinning her to the mattress, sliding back into her. 

One hand when to her throat and Camila gasped as Florian fucked her, his hips doing circular motions. 

“Good Girl, you better cum on my dick, that is the only way I am stopping.”

Camila was delirious with pleasure, she couldn't even respond to him. Maybe a yes passed her lips, but she wasn’t sure. 

“Damn this pussy is clenching me baby, I could stay here all night long.” he tightened his grip on her neck. 

“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” 

Just as she reached her peaked, he let go, air rushing her lungs giving her a lightheaded feeling. 

“Oh fuck.” Florian muttered, pulling out and cumming on her ass. 

Camila woke up panting, the dream felt too real. She clenched her thighs feeling the wetness between them. Fuck she should have stayed with Florian last night and made this a reality, Jess was right she did need some dick. 

Camila slid out of bed, going to the restroom. She smelled coffee and went to investigate, finding Pablo shirtless making coffee. 

“If you are feeling well enough to make coffee, then you are good enough to take your ass home.”

Pablo turned, his signature smile on his face. 

“Well good morning to you also princess.”

“Don't call me that. Where is your shirt, get your shit and go home.” 

“Cam, don't treat me like this. Besides Jason is on his way to get me.”

“Uber, Lyft, Marta all exist and you don't have to wait here, wait outside.”

“You are really mad at me?” 

Camila wanted to slap the stupid confused look off of his face, did he really thing this was a game. He didn't get to come and go as he pleased. Pablo couldn't decide that he wanted back in whenever he wanted. 

“I am not mad at you, I am over you. Over the games and you thinking everything is a joke.”

“You have to forgive me.” Pablo set his cup down, coming towards her. 

“I did forgive you, but my forgiveness doesn't mean we will reconnect at all. Pablo please leave me alone.” 

“Fine Camila.” 

He walked over to where his shirt and shoes were by the couch, putting them on. He didn't say anything as he pushed to the door, slamming it behind him. 

Her chest didn't deflate until after a minute passed, when she got in the shower she finally cried. Camila could admit that she loved Pablo, but she was not going back and forth with him at all. 

----

Camila spent the day texting Florian, he was the sweetest person ever, sending her jokes and memes. He asked her to stop by the club tonight but she couldn't, she had a test she needed to study for. 

Camila was knee deep in books when someone knocked at her door. She was not expecting anyone at all and was surprised it was a delivery person. 

“Camila?” he asked. 

“Yeah?”

“Delivery from Insomnia Cookies.”

Camila took the box, it was slightly warm and the scent of fresh baked cookies hit her nose. 

She fucking loved insomnia cookies, what other company delivered fresh baked cookies until 3am? None, she walked  into the kitchen and set the box down, tearing off the note on the box. 

Make sure you take a break from studying and eat something. Thinking of you. 

-Florian

Camila put the note on her fridge before grabbing a cookie, headed back to the couch. She grabbed her phone, sending him a selfie of her and the cookie. 

She nibbled at the cookies while studying, grateful for the sweet snack. Her phone dinged twice, letting her know that someone had messaged her, she hoped it was Florian.

But of course it wasn't, it was Pablo, she rolled her eyes and set the phone back down. He was not going to ruin her good mood if she could help it.  Camila eventually fell asleep on the couch, books and notes everywhere. 

When she woke up in the middle of the night to pee, she grabbed her phone and headed to the bathroom. Only a few notifications from IG and Pablo. She opened his text thread, one message was a video, the second said, “Just thought you should know, I would never do this to you.”

Camila clicked the video, it took a second for the camera to focus but when it did, she nearly dropped her phone. It was very clear that it was Florian’s Club and that he was seated in a booth, and on his lap was her best friend Jessi. Camila let it repeat a few times making sure her sleep deprived brain wasn’t playing games on her, but it wasn’t. 

She got up and washed her hands, walking into the bedroom watching it one more time to be sure. For the second time in 24 hours her heart shattered. She was really feeling Florian and for him to do this. 

She downloaded The video and sent it to both Jessi and Florian, then put her phone on DND. She wanted them to know that she knew but didn’t want to hear the excuses that came with it. 

Camila tossed and turned for the rest of the night. 

——

Camila overslept, someone banging on her door waking her up. She checked her phone, seeing she had an hour to be at work. Ugh it would take her 20 minutes to get there. 

She swung her front door open, Florian standing there. 

“What do you want?” 

“I can explain…” 

“Keep it, I don’t want to hear excuses.”

“Please…”

Camila closed the door in his face, and he knocked again. 

“Flo, go home.” she said through the door. 

“Not until you let me explain.” 

Camila didn't say anything, looking at her phone. Jessi had texted her a few times. 

“I am not going anywhere, she came onto me, I swear Camila.”

“You explained, you can go now.”

[unicyclehippo]

Do you think Nott is going to be more... protective? Of Beau after their recent chat? Nott has grown on me immensely and maybe it is just my found family brain just wishing too hard, but I dunno? This could be a prompt too I guess if you're down with just Nott behaving extremely strangely toward others with regard to Beau after Beau's confession.

three times nott is protective of beauregard & one time she straight up comforts her & its a little weird for both of them

//

1.

‘perhaps, and i mean no offence when i say this, but perhaps one of, ah, the more persuasive, the more obsequious—‘

‘obse-what?’ jester interrupts, looking up from where she is drawing at beau’s new desk. or maybe on the desk itself.

‘charming, flattering ones of us—myself, or fjord—could talk to the high curator,’ caleb suggests, his fingers pulling, drifting across the air as he plans in that way he does, like he’s pulling on strings, tugging their strategy into place like the mental image he has is a tangible thing. ���you have a habit of being...’

‘a habit of being what, caleb?’

to everyone’s surprise—even beauregard’s, maybe even nott’s own—the sly, almost challenging question comes from nott of all people.

‘hm. i have spoken out of turn,’ the flame-haired wizard says. shakes his head. ‘never mind.’

nott relents a little. then, ‘she may have been an absolute garbage fire when we met, but even i have to admit, she’s getting better at not making people want to punch her in the face.’

‘thanks?’ beau says, not sure how much of a compliment that really was. ‘plus, the high curator isn’t gonna talk to you if you’re not part of the soul, probably. it’s gotta be me. unfortunately,’ she adds with a hitching smile, directed to caleb, as if to say i get it, it’s fine, i totally fucking agree with your assessment of my skills or lack thereof.

nott narrows her eyes. her hand drifts towards her crossbow. ‘you’re going to do just fine,’ she says, and somehow manages to make it sound like a threat.

//

2.

‘you lying to me?’ the guard demands, shakes beau by the collar. ‘you want to sneak into the fort, huh, is that it? you think i’m gonna buy that there’s people after you?’

beau bites her tongue before she can reply with something rude, something that’d make him just straight up kill her.

‘i’m telling you the truth, man. there’s a gang of fuckin’—murderers or, or thieves or bandits or whatever you call them, out there in the forest right now. i’m of the cobalt soul—i’m on your side!’

that does seem to help. the guard wavers, glancing down at her distinctive raiments.

‘alright...’ he mutters, drops her back down to her feet. ‘show me. darius! leon! marta! with me,’ the captain calls, and the foursome follow beau out into the clearing by the fort. ‘mark my words, monk—if you can’t show me where they are, i will take you as our prisoner instead. clear?’

‘clear,’ beau says, right as a scratchy voice tickles in beau’s ear, or just behind it, like she’s hearing the voice without hearing it.

‘modern. literature.’

that’s all the warning she gets before a bolt slams out from the treeline and beau catches it, does her best to make it look like it got her bad, let’s herself fall. it helps that she actually only barely managed to catch it, and the bolt head actually pierces her skin and makes her grunt and bleed rather profusely from the wound.

the captain steps back from her, surprised, and waved his guards out to deal with the attacker. unfortunately for beau, he stays where he is and when it becomes readily apparent that this is, in fact, a trap, he goes nearly purple with rage and swings his blade down toward her. she rolls out of the way of the first strike, scrabbles backward in the dirt and detritus, that layer of wet earth and crackling leaf litter. he lands a biting slash across her thigh, making her cry out, and—panicking—beau grabs at a handful of that litter, throws the leaves into his face, makes him yell—and the noise cuts off as he drops to the ground, unmoving.

behind him, uncharacteristically deep into the battle, is nott. her dagger is drawn instead of her crossbow and it drips with red; the frenzied, terrified look in her eyes fades somewhat when she sees beau staring back at her.

‘alright?’ she rasps.

beau nods a few times, quick and uncoordinated, suddenly dizzy.

‘jessie!’ she hears nott call. ‘jessie, beau’s hurt! get here—now!’

//

3.

‘beau, you could climb up there and grab it, right?’

she examines the column—even with spiderclimb it would be difficult, the thorns that wrap around the column thick and where they don’t coil, the marble is smooth and slick with dripping water.

‘yeah,’ she cracks her head from side to side. ‘i could give it a go.’

‘absolutely not,’ nott denies, shakes her head.

‘what? you wanna race?’

‘no,’ the woman says, eyeing beau like she’s stupid, like she’s doing something stupid. ‘it’s too dangerous.’

‘no it’s not—‘

‘we don’t know what those vines will do to you, i don’t like it, it’s not safe.’

‘nothing is safe these days. it’ll be fine,’

beau is held in place when nott grabs at her, wraps a forbidding hand around her wrist.

‘no,’ she says again. ‘there’s safer ways to do this. there’s got to be a safer way to do it,’ she says, directing that to caleb, to fjord, to jester and caduceus. ‘figure it out.’

beau tries to twist her hand free but nott has a hell of a grip on her. ‘it’s fine, dude, this is what i’m here for. dope monk shit!

‘no.’

nott won’t be moved on that, and when they throw a rock closer to the column and see how the vines lash out like great toothed tentacles and slam it to the ground, the rock shattering on the stonework, she gulps and finds herself glad for what she realises, confused, was protection.

//

1.

‘beau? are you—‘

‘no!’

‘oh fuck, oh geez,’ nott spins in place, looking for a towel or a rag or anything that might be used as a tissue or at least to hide beau’s face as she cries. ‘oh fuck,’

‘it’s fine—‘

‘you’re crying!’

‘shut up, no i’m not,’ beau says, even as her voice catches and breaks, and a fresh wave of tears crashes down her face, running freely down her cheeks before pooling in the crook of her elbows, over her forearms when she buried her head in them.

nott freezes in place. then, carefully, she steps over so she is standing next to beau and lays a gentle hand on her shoulder.

beau shrugs it forcefully away. ‘fuck off,’ she snarls. the effect is diminished by the snot-thick words, the way her face is hidden.

nott doesn’t fuck off. she sits down next to the girl and lifts a hand up and around, half a hug, half just a parting hand on her shoulder.

‘there there,’ nott soothes, the instinct coming back to her naturally, even after so many years as not-veth. soothing a crying child, especially one so heartbroken? she pats beau’s head when the girl falls into her, starts to cry into her shoulder. ‘there there,’ she murmurs, rocking beau. ‘it’s alright, it’ll be alright.’

[rosepetals-flyingbirds]

Þorrablót.

Þorrablót: Ancient Viking tradition -which bears its name because of Þorri, a month of the old Icelandic calendar- was originally a feast of sacrifice involving the blood of oxen and goats. Contemporary celebrations involve many Nordic eating and drinking, including smoked sheep’s head, chopped lamb’s testicles and rotting shark. In smaller cities, visitors are usually invited to join the residents.

Pairing: Modern Ivar x Reader.

Warning: Smut.

Word Count: 4.3K

Gif’s credit: @therealcalicali​

“Hvitserk no!” Aslaug patted her hungry son’s hand out of the cookies that were above the counter.

Shaking his hand trying to get rid of the sting of the slap Hvitserk pouted. “Come on, mother. It will take hours for dinner.”

Marta -the family’s maid- laughed and grabbed a cupcake handing to him. “Go help your brother and maybe the hours will pass faster.” She stated with a smile and Hvitserk shrugged, a cupcake was better than nothing.

Walking to the living room he spotted his brother setting the decorations.  “And done.” Siggurd inhaled, relaxing his arms as the final decorations were placed perfectly around the place.

Ragnar grinned brilliantly at Siggurd and Ubbe as they climbed down from their step-stool. “Better than the last year!” He patted them both on the shoulders. “This is the best part of the holiday, I just wanted for Ivar don’t be an ass and help us.”

Ubbe chuckled, and darted his eyes to the stairs that led to his younger brother's old room. “He’s too occupied complaining about life to come down.”

“If he had half as much holiday spirit as he used to have he’d be here for sure.” Siggurd stated before darting his eyes to Hvitserk and his full mouth. “What is that?”

“Nothing?!”

Realizing what it was Siggurd placed his hands on his hips. “Mother let you eat while we have to wait until dinner?!”

Swallowing Hvitserk tried his best to look innocent. “No.”

Ubbe smirked at the answer were clearly was a lie and watched as his brothers gave him each other a look.

Ragnar shrugged and got back to Ivar’s topic. “Ivar would be a lot happier if he knew Y/N just called your mother to say she will come.”

Hvitserk breathed, stroking his hands. “Don’t tell me I’m the one who has to go up and tell him that Þorrablót is done.”

“Why?” Siggurd answered.

“Ivar always gets tense when we talk about Y/N, you know he still has a crush on her.” Hvitserk guessed. “Or he’ll simply leave.”

Ubbe snorted. “I will tell him.”

Watching Ubbe leave Hvitserk and Siggurd looked at Ragnar who smiled and clapped his hands before looking at the decorated rooms searching for any mistake.

Ivar didn’t hear his brother entering the room, his earphones popping as he watched an Inglorious Bastard for the hundred time on his Dell notebook.

Ubbe had to slap his little brother’s leg to win his attention, jumping Ivar almost fell off the bed in fright. “Shit! What do you want, Ubbe?”

“Prevent you from being shocked at dinner.“

Pausing his movie Ivar darted his eyes over Ubbe’s face trying to figure it out something. "What do you mean with that?”

“Y/N’s coming.”

Ivar’s heart must’ve jumped as his eyes widened. “Y/N? The Y/N?“ He hasn’t seen you in what seemed years, as the Ragnarsons moved off Aslaug’s house to start their lives and you moved from your parent’s as well he hasn’t seen you in person in a year or so, of course, social media kept him aware of your appearance but you weren’t the annoying girl across the street anymore. Nor the girl that he had his first time with.

“Yes, Y/N Y/L/N. Mother called her a few weeks ago and invited her to celebrate it with us, since when she was younger she always found it fascinating.” Ubbe stared at how Ivar’s mood had changed already.

Ivar smiled at that, how you had almost puked when Ragnar ate minced testicles of sheep for the first time -a traditional plate of the holiday-.

Ivar rubbed his face before letting one hand on his cheek staring at the paused movie on his screen. “Shit… I have to get dressed!” Getting on his feet he opened the drawers where he placed some clothes he had bought to stay the week. Ubbe laughed, truly mesmerized at the scene. "Fuck you, Ubbe.”

“Well, I will let you doll up for her-” Receiving a shoe being thrown at his face Ubbe could laugh but the burning feeling was heavier. “Okay okay, I will stop.”

Ivar’s heart was hammering. You were going to be there tonight, at the dining table, with his family, like you did when you were 8 years old while staring at Hvitserk eating rotting shark.

You were going to sleep at the house -since your parents had moved-. Ivar swiftly started to enjoy the holiday again.

He succeeded to find a good outfit, he stared at his glasses and wondered in placing them or not, you would think he looks smarter with them? Or he looked better without them?

                               …

At 8 PM he was ready and in the living room with his brothers and uncle, his hands were sweating and he rolled his eyes when he realized Siggurd and Hvitserk were gazing at him with a conspiratorial speculation. “Stop!”

Smiling Siggurd let a sigh. “Ah the love, you know brother… if even you are capable to feel it, I know everything is possible.” Siggurd joked.

Hvitserk laughed nodding. “Let just hope she doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

“What?!”

Siggurd shrugged, his brother’s desperation not going unnoticed. “You know, she is pretty, she is hot and really really nice, what makes you think she is single?”

Ivar widened his eyes and stared at the fireplace, why he hasn’t thought about it beforehand?

Ragnar chuckled and found amusing how Ivar was concerned. “Stop torturing him, when she comes here we can make a small talk and ask.”

The fact was that Ivar was only hanging around so that he could jump on you as soon as you stepped through the door and cover you in one of his massive -rare- bear embraces. Ivar hardly even spoke a hello to anyone else except it was his relatives.

                                …

Finally reaching the house that brought you so many memories you let a sigh. The house was the prettiest one in the neighborhood, it didn’t fail to give all the Ragnarsons a solo bedroom.

The instant you walked through that door, holding a bag with a few pieces of clothes inside, you hugged Helga who always said how much you made part of the big family. “It is so good to see you! Floki looks who is here!” Calling over her husband the people in the living room didn’t wink before looking at you, Ivar’s heart hammered and he wanted to rip it off!

Politely hugging the people you grow up considering your uncles and aunts you saw Ivar over there sat in the couch, his eyes piercing over your form.

He truly looked great.

After hugging Ragnar and then Siggurd, Ivar came near and opened his arms. Giggling you hugged him with all your strength, how solid and real he was under your embrace made your heart flutter.

Ivar scooped you up, his arms clenching around you urgently as he crushed his body to yours. You snickered squeezing him back just as intensely, moving only to give his cheek a welcome kiss.

“I missed you.” Ivar sighed, his orbs traveling over your features and body. You haven’t changed much, maybe you look a bit more mature, even more sensuous than he remembered. You held yourself with more confidence and your smile was as pretty as he memorized it.

“And here I thought you would ignore me the whole night.” You fooled, Ivar wasn’t the easiest person to be around, you were fearing he would ignore you and just speak to make remarks as for how you haven’t talked with him in ages… gladly it wasn’t the case. “I’m glad you didn’t forget me.”

A sudden nervousness reached you as he got a genuine glance at you.

Ivar swung his head breaking his intense stare. “I did, but Ubbe made a powerpoint presentation of pictures of you and your genealogy tree so.” You both explode into giggling, Aslaug winking at you across the room.

After a small talk Ivar grabbed your bag and told that he would place in the guest’s room, you thanked him and sat on the couch between Ubbe and Siggurd talking with your old friends.

Walking upstairs he heard the guests talking and laughing, and for the first time, he wasn’t bothered by it.

The dinner happened and as always your eyes gazed at the traditional food in wonder, you couldn’t possibly try that.

Hvitserk prepared a few drinks he learned in his restaurant, so many fancy drinks but delicious nonetheless.

Ragnar had suggested you try his own Special Þorrablót mixture which he didn’t tell you what was in it, but Ubbe swore it was safe.

It was a mesmerizing holiday, even more at how in peace everyone was with each other.

More food and more drinks came and everyone was laughing, and enjoying their time.

Your chair was beside Ivar’s who had a hand resting in your thigh the whole time. “I’m really happy you came.” He said near your ear. Ivar had been touching you all night.

Since the chairs were so near it was bound to happen, but how he handed you the dishes or drinks always making sure to maintain eye contact was making you all hot inside.

“Me too.” You responded, laying a hand atop his. “I missed you.”

“Y/N do you want another drink?” Floki asked cutting your and Ivar’s gaze.

“Hmm, no, thank you. I think I had enough for a night.”

“Beginner.” Scoffing lightly Floki winked making you smile. Maybe you should just marry Ivar already to be part of his family.

‘Wait, what? Definitely not more drinks for me.’ The line of thought was cut when Hvitserk threw a piece of bread at you.

“Why took you so long to come back?”

Grabbing the bread ready to throw at him you glanced at Aslaug who didn’t seem to like the idea of a food fight over her expensive dinner, letting the bread in your plate you shrugged. “Basically work, and besides you now live on the other side of the city.”

“But we could have hang out sooner, Siggurd lives near my place and it would be really nice.”

You nodded, the boys were really important to you, but adulthood didn’t fail to put distance on friendships. “That is true, maybe we a change that right? I have tickets for the new Jurrasic Park movie, we could go.”

“Sure, it will be awesome.”

Ivar didn’t like the interaction with his brothers. You should be the one asking him to go to the movies with you, not his brothers. Biting his lower lip, his hand slightly tightening encompassing your skin.

Ivar could just picture ravishing you in the table in front of his brothers.

“(…) go too.” Breaking his angry gaze at his brothers he looked at you, asking what you had said as you laughed at how in trance he was. “I said you can go too, I have four tickets anyway. Sorry, Ubbe!” You glanced at the man who pouted but nodded.

Ivar thought for a moment, maybe it would be nice… but his brothers would be there… and he hates going in the movies with Hvitserk! His brother seemed like he couldn’t stop chewing for a mere scene, it didn’t matter if it was popcorn, cotton candy or the most annoying one: M&M’s! “No thank you.”

Your smile fell at that, there was the moody Ivar you remember.

The situation was clear at the table and Ragnar patted his hands together catching everyone’s attention, Ivar’s hand slipping from your thigh. “Okay! Floki you told Helga about the fishing trip we talked about?”

Floki closed his eyes and looked at Helga with a small distant frown. “Not yet.”

Widening her eyes Helga gave her husband a threatening look. “Fishing? Floki you just got out of a cold! You can’t go!”

Aslaug drank her wine and decided the dinner had finished. “Well, let’s go stay in the living room. As the subjects had died down here already…”

Marta came to take the dishes and you got on your feet to help, rolling your eyes at how the boys didn’t even move you waved your hand calling their attention. “Come on, you guys just ate, get your asses up to help.”

Snorting they did so, Hvitserk grabbing the glasses, Siggurd the plates and Ivar the bows. “Ubbe just because you’re the older one doesn’t mean you can just sit there.”

Rolling his eyes he nodded and started to help too.

“I always told how of a good influence she is on them,” Ragnar said smiling and Aslaug nodded.

Indeed, a great influence.

Helping to place the leftovers in the fridge you brushed your arm’s on Ivar’s, his frowned face slowly becoming happier again.

                                …

The family sat in the spacious living room, and told stories about their ancestors and what they did on the holiday.

Always so fascinating.

The subjects went south and quickly Floki and Ragnar were sharing their adventures and craziness situations while teenagers.

Ivar was sitting beside you again, maybe it was the drinks he had because he was as touchy as he was in the table, but of course, now everyone saw how his hand was touching you and how possessive he looked grasping at you each time someone focused their gazes at your direction.

Your smile was ample, enthusiasm boiling in your veins feeling his hands and how of a good time you were having.

Ragnar got on his feet with a grin. “I think we should go settle the fireworks!” He announced and you looked at Ivar in wonder, they never used it before.

“Fireworks?”

Rolling her eyes Aslaug nodded, you didn’t miss the dangerous gaze she threw at Ubbe -who agreed with his father’s idea-.“Yes, Ragnar had the brilliant idea of it.”

You bit your lower lip, the firework is a pretty sight! But it was really loud and it hurt the poor animals’ ears. “Don’t worry Y/N, I know how you hate those things because how it scares the animals, but all the animals around are safe and sound inside their houses with their owners so they won’t get much scared nor run in the street.”

Shrugging you nodded, isn’t like you could change their minds anyway. “Okay then.”

Everyone left to see the fireworks but you a let a forced yawn. “Thank you guys for everything but the flight was complicated and I’m really tired.”

“No problem. Good night, darling.” Hugging you Aslaug left and you gave your goodbyes to each one of them.

Ivar didn’t move, and enjoying the opportunity of privacy his lips quickly found yours.

“Can you show me my room?” Softly saying against his lips Ivar’s great perception caught your meaning.

Walking upstairs holding hands you could feel your skin burning in anticipation.

Recognizing the bedroom he tucked you in you let a smile, his old bedroom. The place where you two had your first-time years ago, it was a great day, the family had traveled and Ivar stood at home saying he didn’t want to go see his other relatives, as always Aslaug made her youngest son’s desire and he stood alone. Which began to you visiting to watch a  few movies, as your own parents had night shifts you slept there, at first it wasn’t your intention to have sex… but things happened and it was actually good -especially for the first time-.

Hearing the door being closed and locked you looked around. “Why do I have a feeling that one is not the room Aslaug prepared for my staying?”

Shrugging Ivar seemed really okay with your new settlement. “That one is comfier, besides…” Reaching your hand he pulled your body near his, embracing you tightly and roaming his hand on your hair. “That one has a natural body heater.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” Kissing you, Ivar’s hands traveled your form, you didn’t lose time to unbutton his shirt. The fireworks started and not even the loud sound broke your moment.

The touches intensified promptly as he laid you down on his bed. His touches were definitely firmer than the last -and first- time. “You are so beautiful, even more than before.” Smiling at his words, his lips trailed down your neck. “How is that possible?” Looking at you with a smile you giggled, your hand in his hair taking the hair tie off.

He had such soft hair, it wasn’t fair!

“Well, I might not have the Rganarson’s genes but…!” You shrugged gaining a laugh, if you weren’t caressing his hair while his crotch was near yours he would fell a ping of jealousy at how you mentioned his brothers -and father- but he let it go and kissed you.

Tugging off your pants he kneeled down in the bed to take it off of your legs. Not missing to take your boots off and trailing kisses on both legs on his way up to your mouth.

Wandering your hand on his opened on button shirt you took it off of his shoulders and smiled at how more strong he seemed.

Squeezing his bicep you moaned at his mouth and rolled so he was on his back as you straddled him. Taking the hem of your shirt you stood in your bra and panty above him. Your breasts might look fuller than before since he couldn’t take his eyes off of them.

You let your hands roam on his chest, his pants becoming tighter in each second on his erection. You moaned at the mere sight of him, you have had a crush in the fucker ever since you could remember.

A few voices started outside, apparently, Hvisterk didn’t manage to put the fireworks to work.

Giggling at their bickering Ivar didn’t want to lose time, grabbing your hips on his strong hands he rolled you and hovered over you. Getting rid of his pants you took your bra off.

On his boxes he attacked your lips again, now just a single line of fabric separating you two. Your hands scratched his sides slightly winning a moan, taking the waistband of his underwear you rolled it down and used your feet to push it off his legs.

His cock sprung up. Just as you remembered… long, thick, and leaking with precum. “I really missed you!”

Ivar gave you a cocky grin, his large hands pumping himself a few times. Slapping his hand away you quickly took the action, winning a few whimpers befalling from his mouth.

What a sound.

Gaining his knowledge back he stroked you through your panties, a few seconds passed until he pushed you back and with a rough grasp he clutched your thighs and pushed you to the edge, bending before you among a dangerous look in his eye.

Combing his fingers on your sides, his mouth trailing up the inside of your thighs. Firm fingers pinned into the line of your panties, tearing it down gently.

The moment you were naked he let out a quiet moan, sliding his fingers on your soaked folds. “So wet.” He purred, kissing your thighs as two of his fingers moved up and down. You moaned at the touch, it was enough to make you a whimpering mess.

Licking up your slit he chuckled. “I will never forget how beautiful you looked when you came on my face those years ago.”

You tried to answer but it was quickly forgotten the moment he slid two digits in. Ivar misused no time moving gently on, his fingers brushing your g-spot with each firm stroke. His lips shortly supplemented them, engulfing on your bud till you were glancing at stars.

“Stop.” You stated winning a confused look. “I- Ivar I need you.” He didn’t stop, your hand gripping his shoulders. “I need you inside me right now.” But the man was determined. “I swear I’ll take it myself if you don’t stop.”

The prior word made him chuckle. “I rather like to see you take the control,” Trying to get up he pushed you down. “The next time.” He added and his lips found yours in a feverish kiss.

His events stopped and he got on his feet, before you could ask what happened you saw him opening his wallet and taking a condom.

While he placed it you ran your hands over his chest, your foot tracing up and down on his calf.

Ivar ran your folds with his tip, moving it up and down. When he grew tired of his torturing tease he pushed inside you making your back curve. Ivar held his hand to the base of your back, supporting.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you two moaned. The loud fireworks finally working outside.

“As good as I remember.” He moaned.

You nodded even so unconsciously before whimpering. “So good, baby you can m-move.” Leaning his hips back and then crashing into you. “Oh, fu-uuck.”

You moaned out, pushing closer to him meeting his thrusts. He left a tender kiss to your cheek, a mute ask if you were good. Nodding, you pulled his neck and kissed him with all the strength you could possibly find.

When you couldn’t reasonably focus on kissing you threw your head back to the pillow and Ivar left sloppy kisses and bites on your neck.

Minutes passed and you were glad the people were outside hearing only the loud thuds of fireworks rather than your and Ivar’s moans.

He was taking you closer and closer to the edge with each pleasurable and painful thrust, Ivar’s hips slamming into yours so hard you were sure you would be brushed later on, good thing it was cold and you could use a scarf on the next day around the family.

“So fucking good. Fuck, Y/N!” He succeeded to say. Your answer was a clench of your walls and a deep scratch on his back. “Come onto my cock baby, let me feel you clench around me.” He stimulated.

Crying out you let go of his back to prevent blood from being drawn and held his neck with one hand while he grabbed the other interlocking your fingers. One of Ivar’s hands was gripping the headboard for support and you came with him following near behind.

Feeling kisses being placed up your neck you opened your eyes -which you didn’t even recall closing-, 90% of his weight was on you, but yet it was a comforting feeling. A safe one, even.

Combing your fingers on his hair you smiled at the thought of coming to his family’s house for the holiday. “You know… I always loved Þorrablót.” You confessed.

Felling his lips move into a smile he leaned back to look at you, his fingers stroking your cheek. "Yeah, it isn’t that bad.”

Hearing the cease of the loud shots you two heard the main door opening and closing with a bang. “You will never do it again, we stood like 40 minutes in the cold.” Aslaug complained.

“Isn’t my fault Hvitserk bought the wrong matches.” Ragnar defended.

“There are no wrong matches you just don’t know how to fire them.” Hvitserk answered with a loud scoff and you smiled at that.

Laughing at the discussion you realized Ivar wasn’t the most temperamental Ragnarson.

                                …

♥

[just-a-spark]

The Before, and The After Part 10

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (18+ to be safe) 

Series Masterlist

Summery: A wealthy classmate of Meg’s becomes close to the family, a little too close to the playboy grandson of Harlan Thrombey. The events leading up to, and following, Harlan Thrombey’s death.

Elizabeth didn’t tell Benoit Blanc everything in detail. That night was for her and her alone to relive. But the look on his face gave him a very dangerous idea.

“So you and Mr. Drysdale had... relations the night before your wedding? When was that again?” Blanc asked evenly.

Elizabeth nodded once, “I was married October 1 of this year.”

“And how far along are you?” Blanc asked, gesturing toward her stomach.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him, pursing her lips while the wheels in her head turned.

“Was a baby part of your plan? For wealth? For power? Were you trying?” Blanc pressed and Elizabeth stammered a little in response.

“I mean, we weren’t planning-”

“If I were to interview your husband, would he tell me you had any unprotected sex?”

“No.” She said quickly, looking over her shoulder at the hallway, “Well, once... We weren’t trying. In fact, we were trying very hard not to have children yet. It wasn’t part of our five year plan.”

“So something was amiss? Did he tell you a condom broke?”

“No.” Elizabeth said quietly, looking down with a forlorn smile, “I missed my period three weeks after the wedding. A week later I still didn’t have it.” She looked back up at Blanc with the best poker face she could muster, but he’d already backed her into the corner, “So I took a pregnancy test in secret.”

Blanc waited impatiently for her to continue, staring at her with big eyes, “And?”

“And it was positive.” She replied with a sigh, “That same night we had unprotected sex, a week later I took another test and ‘wowee we’re having a babyyy’.” She sang sarcastically. “Why would he ever question it? Why would anyone question it?, He’s my husband.”

Blanc lifted his head, as if having his own ‘ah ha’ moment, “You knew you were pregnant with another man’s child, so you manipulated your husband into thinking he got you pregnant, when in reality, you know he is not the father. Without a shadow of a doubt?”

She narrowed her eyes at Blanc and grinned devilishly, “Without a doubt.”

“Mmhhmm. Well. This is an interesting turn of events.” Blanc answered, leaning both forearms on the chair.

Elizabeth noticed his sudden change of demeanor and began to panic, “Why is that?”

“Because if Ransom Drysdale knew he was getting cut from the will and he had a child on the way... well... as you can imagine, that gives him a motive. Desperate men will do anything for their children.”

Elizabeth shook her head, her mouth open in horror, “No! No, that isn’t possible-”

“If he is as terrible of a person as you have made him out to be, it seems quite possible to me.”

“He didn’t know-” She clenched her fist and twisted her mouth angrily, “I never told him. I tried... but I didn’t get the chance.”

“And why is that?” Blanc questioned, having the woman where he wanted her, “A happy accident might change dear Hugh’s mind about running away with you.”

Elizabeth swallowed hard, staring at the chess board and knowing she was about to lose the game, “I tried to tell him. I called him at least twenty times the week leading up to Harlan’s birthday.”

"Did he ever get back to you?” Blanc asked, the smallest smile creeping onto his face as she shook in her seat. “What did he say to you?”

She steeled her nerves, willing her pulse to slow as she looked Benoit Blanc dead in the eyes and told him, “Nothing. I never heard back from him.”

                                    November 8, Harlan’s 85th Birthday

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you again. I know you clearly don’t want to talk to me, otherwise you would have called back, but I need to talk to you. Please call me back... or don’t, I guess. But tell Harlan happy birthday from me. I wish I could be there... Hope you’re doing well... well, goodbye.”

Ransom sat in his Beamer outside his home, dressed in an old white shirt and brown coat for his grandfather’s birthday party. He knew he should call her back. He’d missed eighteen of her calls. But they’d made a deal as he helped her back onto her horse that night: they’d leave the past behind them. She wouldn’t contact him again.

She’d been married just over a month, she couldn’t be that bored already, but then again, Phil was just... nice. Ransom tossed his phone into the passenger seat of his car and threw the gear shift into drive, speeding down the dirt road to his grandfather’s house.

As he drove, Ransom imagined Eliza. He imagined her face when she’d catch his eye across the room, and smile softly even though she’d openly tell people he was the devil. He could practically hear her laugh when they’d lay awake for hours after sex talking about nothing, holding hands and cuddling until one of them fell asleep or they’d go for another round. Ransom missed her, and he saved every hopeful message she left him, just so he could replay them when he slept alone, missing her warmth curled up next to him.

As the sun began to set over the back of the Thrombey home, Ransom swore he’d call her back after the party. He didn’t know how long it would take, and he was already late enough.

“I’m going to stop this Harlan- I’m warning you!” Ransom’s anger built up and he exploded out the door of the study and out the front door, storming past his Greantnana without a word. He slammed the door to his car shut and sped off into the night, angry and devastated.

Cut off.

He was getting cut off. They were all getting cut off. What the hell was he supposed to do now? His friends, oh God, the circles he ran in, what would they do if he didn’t have the funds to join them? He’d be an outcast. And his family? There’d be no living with them when they found out. He was out of options...

Ransom struggled to pull his phone out of his pants pocket as an idea struck him. He quickly dialed Eliza and put her on speaker, unaware of the late hour he was calling her.

“Hello?” She whispered, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Eliza.” Ransom gasped, feeling lighter after hearing her voice, “Eliza, I’m coming for you.”

“You’re...what?” She yawned, not quite surprised enough for what he said. There was a beat of silence and she repeated, more alert this time, “You’re what?”

“Harlan is cutting us off. All of us. He’s cutting me and my family out of the will and he’s leaving everything to Marta.” Ransom rambled on and when Eliza didn’t respond he added, “We should have ran before you got married, I know that, but the money I have is still mine. It’s just like you said, I can take care of us for a while, we’ll go somewhere new and start over. Hell, maybe Harlan will take pity on me if he finds out I’ve run off with you...”

“Ransom.” Eliza’s voice croaked on the other end and he looked down at the phone on his lap. She should have called him Hugh. “What we had... it was really special. I wanted to be with you, more than anything, but you didn’t want me. I’ve moved on. I’m married- and I’m happy. I’ve been trying to call you to tell you-” She cut off, and Ransom felt his heart sink at her sad words.

“What? What have you been trying to tell me?” Ransom snapped desperately, wondering what could be so important she needed to call him time and time again.

She sighed, “Phillip and I are pregnant, Ransom. I can’t run away with you. I can’t run away with no money to my name and a baby to care for. That’s not fair, to anybody. I have to stay with Phillip so he can take care of us.”

Ransom’s breath was shaky as he stared ahead, nearing the edge of the property. “I hope you’re happy then.” He ended the call and threw the phone onto the floor, seething through every pore.

“Fuck!” He cried out as he drove, passing the last security camera.

I can’t get cut off. I can’t let Marta get the inheritance. I have to win her back.

Ransom slammed on the breaks, his Beamer skidding to a stop.

I can’t let this happen... I can’t let Marta get that money.

After spending a summer as Harlan’s research assistant, Ransom was well versed in the world of murder and mystery. As he pulled his car off the road past the carved elephant and parked, turning the key in the ignition.

If Marta killed Harlan, she wouldn’t get a dime... If Marta accidentally killed Harlan, the previous will has me in it.

Ransom trudged away from his car toward the house, forming a plan in his mind. The slayer rule would ensure he’d keep his inheritance. Marta gave Harlan his medications every night. If she were to give him the wrong dose... an inadvertent overdose...

As the house came into view over the gate, Ransom stopped and smiled to himself.

Sorry Harlan.