Shameless Hoe HQ

You forced yourself to let it go, gently setting it on the counter. “My mom called,” you conceded.

His hand immediately moved from Lola to your back, not moving. Just a steady presence there. “Everything okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded again. “They’re—uh, she and Joseph—they’re coming here next week. Want to see us.”

“Oh. They aren’t going to stay with us, are they?” He sounded a little alarmed at the prospect, which made you smile.

“No, definitely not. Joseph will find the nicest suite in Boston, I’m sure.”

Ransom gave you a small smile. “A man after my own heart,” he joked.

You couldn’t quite join him. “Sure,” you shrugged.

His hand on your back became firmer. “Will it be nice,” he asked softly, “to see your mom?”

You took a deep breath. “Is it stupid if I say I miss her?” you asked quietly instead of answering him.

“No,” he said immediately. Firmly. “I can’t relate. But it’s definitely not stupid.”

You finally turned your body to him. “She’s really excited about the baby. That she gets to be a grandma.”

“That’s good,” he said, his hand on your back moving to your stomach, seemingly involuntarily. Like a magnet. That’s how it’d been for the last couple of weeks. Since you’d kissed. Since you’d talked. Otherwise, not much had changed in how he acted. Kisses when he left in the morning and usually when he got home. Or before he and you parted ways to go to your own bedrooms at night. He was taking things slowly. Presumably following your lead. But his hands. His hands always found you.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“How long will they be here?”

“Really just a day, I think. They want to have dinner with us. And Joseph wants to set up at least eighteen holes with you.”

Ransom’s hand shrank back from you, a look of horror on his face. “He wants to golf?!”

You shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Why?”

“Because technically you’re his son-in-law. And I’m sure he’ll have some deal or something he’ll want to talk over with you too.”

He rolled his eyes. “I fucking hate golf.”

“That’s fine,” you shrugged. “He’ll expect to win anyway.”

He looked affronted at that. “I didn’t say I was bad at it! Just that it’s a stupid way to waste your time.”

You sighed. “Well, can you do it for one afternoon? Just to make my life easier?”

He gave you a considering look. “You hate him?” he asked.

“I do,” you said, very quietly.

“Alright,” he said with a decisive nod. “I’ll play a fucking round of golf. And I’ll demolish him.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that bloomed on your face. “Sure, Ransom,” you said fondly. You doubted it. Joseph golfed more than he worked. But the sentiment was really nice.

He took a step back into your space. The arm that wasn’t holding Lola wrapped around your waist. “You okay with them coming here? Really?”

And you knew, in that moment, that if you said “No,” he would figure out a way to keep them as far away from you as he could. Warmth bloomed in your chest. You still hadn’t gotten over the fact that he cared. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’ll be good to see my mom.”

“Okay,” he said, with a shockingly gentle kiss to your forehead. “Then I guess I can tolerate golf with Joseph for an afternoon.”

You woke up early the morning your mother was visiting. You had too much nervous energy to sleep. So you got up, took care of Lola, and started making breakfast for yourself and Ransom.

Your mom was going to come spend the day with you at the house, and then you’d go to the country club together to meet Joseph and Ransom for dinner after they were done golfing. Spending the entire day with her would be good. It would.

Ransom didn’t comment when he got up and found you already in the kitchen. He just kept you company as you cooked. He seemed to understand that you needed the silence filled, so he told you about what he expected his work day to include. A new author coming in, a probable fight with Walt, paperwork he’d been putting off. He didn’t make any mention of the time he’d be spending with Joseph this afternoon, and you were grateful. You were anxious enough already.

Too soon, you were both done with breakfast, and Ransom had gone back upstairs to finish getting ready. The doorbell sounded, and you took a deep breath before answering it.

Your mother stood on the front step, looking put together but maybe as nervous as you were. And frail. She looked very frail. She smiled at the sight of you, as big as she had ever managed. Despite all of the feelings that always swirled around inside of you when you thought of her, you smiled too. And then you threw your arms around her in a big hug.

You hugged her as tightly as you thought she could handle, as you breathed in the familiar floral notes of the perfume Joseph always got her for her birthday. And she hugged you back, her face pressed close.

“Oh honey, I’ve missed you so much,” she said softly.

“I’ve missed you too, Mom,” you replied. And you meant it. Eventually, you pulled away. “Did you have breakfast at your hotel? Can I make you something?” you asked as you ushered her into the house.

“Oh no, you don’t need to do that. We had a nice spread at the hotel. But if you wanted to share a pot of tea, I wouldn’t say n-“

The sound of footsteps hit the stairs, and your mom stopped talking immediately. You watched as her eyes tracked Ransom as he came down. Her body curled inward, just a bit, somehow making herself look even smaller than normal. “Ransom,” you called to him once he was in the room, wanting to break the strange tension that had suddenly filled the space. “You remember my mom, Lydia.”

Ransom stopped short, right next to you. A vague look of surprise on his face. He quickly schooled his expression into something much more neutral, and you made a mental note to ask him about it later. “Yes, of course,” he said, taking a step forward but stopping when she took a small step back. “It’s lovely to see you. I hope you got here alright.”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

She didn’t say anything else. An uneasy silence settled over all three of you. You tried to catch your mom’s eye, see if she was okay, but she couldn't keep her wary gaze off of Ransom.

“Well,” Ransom finally spoke, as awkward as you’d ever heard him, “I should get going.” He turned to you, one hand immediately going to your bump. “You’re sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked, lowly, just for you.

You ducked your head with a shy smile at his care and nodded. His other hand came up to briefly caress your cheek as he gave you a small peck on the lips. Then he grabbed his work bag and headed out the door, calling out behind him, “I hope you have a good day together. I’ll see you both at dinner.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, you could feel your mom’s relief. You took a step towards her. “Mom, are you–“

“This is such a lovely home,” she said, stepping past you to look into the living room.

You blinked after her, trying to track what was happening. “Oh, um, thank you. We’re actually moving soon, though. Before the baby comes. We found a house we both really like.”

She looked at you, surprised. “He let you help decide?”

There was something about the question that made your heart crack, just a little. You weren’t sure yet who for. “Yeah, Mom. We discussed what we wanted. We’ll both be living there, after all.”

She opened her mouth to respond before she was distracted by Lola running into the room and jumping up onto the couch. “Oh!” your mom exclaimed. “I didn’t know you still had your little dog!”

You did your best to ignore the implication of that—that she’d assumed Ransom would make you give her up—and went to Lola to scratch behind her ears. “Of course, I do. Lola goes wherever I go, don’t you, baby?”

You looked up to find your mom staring at you, her expression tricky to read. There was relief there, first and foremost, but something else you couldn't quite decipher. After a very long pause, she said very quietly, “He must be very fond of you.”

All you could do was blink at her for a moment. Then, “Yes, I think so. I think– We’re fond of each other. We get along well.” It felt strange to talk about your relationship this way. It felt so new and– and delicate. And yours. You didn’t know how to talk about it with someone who hadn’t been there for the whole thing.

“He really isn’t so bad?” she asked with a hopeful tinge to her voice.

“No,” you said, “he’s not so bad at all. Now that I’ve gotten to know him.”

And at that, her body sagged. Like she’d finally released a breath she’d been holding for the last eight months. Her eyes were watery when she looked you in the eyes and said, her voice shaking a little, “That’s good. That’s so good.”

You took a step towards her and held out one hand. “Mom,” you asked, “are you alright?”

“Of course,” she said, too quickly, with a wobbly smile. “I’m just so happy to see you.”

“Yeah,” you said, but kept a careful eye on her. “Me too, Mom.”

You were able to busy yourself for a few minutes by preparing a few mugs of herbal tea for both of you before you settled on the couch in the living room with her.

Once you were seated, she put a hesitant hand on your stomach with a soft smile. “You’re glowing,” she said. “Is everything going well with the baby so far?”

“Yeah, I think so. The doctor doesn’t have any concerns right now. And they’ve started moving. It’s wild to think that there’s an actual person growing in there. I’m really looking forward to meeting them. And I think Ransom’s getting excited too.”

Her smile shifted a little. “Men are always excited to meet their sons.” And at that, you couldn’t help the way your smile dropped. Your mom noticed, of course. “Have you found out the baby’s sex yet?”

You turned away some as you shook your head. “No,” you said very quietly. “That appointment’s next week.”

“Do you have a feeling either way?” your mother asked urgently.

“No,” you lied. Of course, you had an inkling. One that had been growing stronger every day. But you hadn’t dared voice that feeling yet. It was too terrifying. “I have no idea. I just want them to be safe and healthy.”

“Sweetheart,” she placed a hand on yours, demanding your attention. “That– No, you can’t afford to think that way. You need to be prepared in case the worst happens.”

“The worst?” you asked, voice small, unable to look at her.

“There’s no greater heartbreak than having a daughter.”

You almost gasped, the words hitting you right in your chest, deep and sharp. You couldn’t help the way your hands came up to cradle your stomach, wanting to protect the person inside if you couldn't protect yourself. “Mom,” you whispered, torn apart.

“Honey, I love you so much. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. But– But men want sons. Especially for the first one. They need heirs. And you and your children won’t be truly safe until you give Ransom an heir. I’m sorry, but it’s true. You must remember what it was like when your father died without an heir.”

“I–“ you started, but came up short. Your earliest memories were all a blur. You remembered feelings. Fear of your father. And then panic after he died. But nothing specific.

“It was the scariest time of my life. Even scarier than when I first married him. Because he died without an heir, because I hadn’t given him one, everything reverted back to his family. And my family wouldn’t take us back. You and I, we had nothing. Honey, I didn’t know where we were going to sleep or how I was going to feed you. I was so terrified. If I’d had a son, none of that would have happened. And I tried, after you were born, I tried so hard to give your father what he wanted. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t give him another child, a son, so when he died, I had to do everything I could to find someone else to take care of us. We’re so lucky that Joseph was willing to take us in, that he already had an heir, and that he didn’t need that from me. He saved us.

“I don’t want any of that for you. Ransom is fond of you. That’s good. He’ll forgive you if this baby isn’t a boy. But if it isn’t, you need to try to have a son again as soon as you can. You can’t hesitate. You never know what might happen.”

“Mom, please–“

She gripped your hands tightly, “I know this is difficult to hear, but you need to listen to me. This is so important. I don’t want you to go through what I went through. I want a better life for you. Do you understand?”

You swallowed harshly. She was looking at you with such desperation that for a long moment all you could do was nod. You believed Ransom when he said he cared about you, cared about this baby. But you’d also seen previously doting husbands turn cold when their hope of an heir, their legacy, came unfulfilled. As painful as it was, your mother was right. You couldn’t afford to ignore everything that was at stake here.

“Yes, Mom,” you finally answered, voice rough. “I understand.”

She exhaled in relief as her grip on your hands lessened but didn’t disappear. “Honey, even though you weren’t the heir your father wanted, I was so happy when I finally got to meet you. I didn’t have to be alone anymore. You’ve always been the greatest joy of my life. And no matter what happens, this baby will be that for you too. You’re going to be such a wonderful mother. I just know it.”

You blinked back the tears threatening to spill over your lashes. Your heart was breaking for numerous reasons you couldn’t even name. You moved one hand from her grasp and used it to gently cradle your stomach. “I hope so,” you said, too quietly. “I want to be good for them.”

“You will be,” she said, with one final, loving pat to your hand. Then she reached for her tea and began to ask you about your new house. And you tried to pretend like everything was fine.

You got to the restaurant at the country club feeling raw and anxious. You’d wanted to enjoy your day with your mom, but her words from this morning were hanging over your head.

Ransom and Joseph were already at the table. Ransom with a shit-eating grin on his face while Joseph looked thunderous. Ransom stood to greet you as soon as you were at the table, with a gentle kiss on your cheek. With a wary eye towards Joseph, you asked, “How was the golf?”

Ransom’s grin got even bigger. “I think it went pretty well!” he said, surprisingly brightly, loud enough for the whole table to hear. “Especially for my very first time. I won by three strokes!”

“Goddamn beginner’s luck,” Joseph grumbled under his breath from his side of the table, where your mom was already sitting stiffly next to him. He barely acknowledged her.

You looked back at Ransom, slightly confused. Just last week he’d told you he was an experienced golfer. At his subtle wink, you had to work hard to stifle your laughter. You couldn’t think of anything that would piss off Joseph more than being beaten by a supposed beginner.

“How was your day together?” Ransom asked as he pulled out your chair for you.

“It was nice,” you said. And parts of it were. The little girl inside you would always be happy to see your mom. Even if every flinch, every sigh, every piece of advice felt like a dire warning for the life you could have, the person you could become if you weren’t very, very careful. You smiled over at her, and she smiled back, even if it was a little fragile.

Joseph rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Lydia’s been very excited to see you. Hopefully she got all that chattering out of her system.”

And just like that, your mom shrank back down, like she was trying to take up as little space at this table as possible. Joseph saved us. Your mother’s words from that morning echoed in your head. Had the cost been worth it? Had any of this ever been worth it?

Ransom leaned forward. “She’s been really looking forward to your visit, too.” He said to your mother, sincerely. “I hope it was a really good day.”

She looked up at him briefly before looking away again. “Yes, it was,” she said very softly. “Thank you.”

You reached under the table and grabbed Ransom’s hand. He didn’t react, but he gave your fingers a reassuring squeeze.

Joseph spent most of the dinner only talking to Ransom, which was honestly fine with you. You tried to engage your mom in conversation on your end of the table, but now that the two of you were no longer alone, she didn’t have much to say. Her eyes kept darting nervously to where the men were talking.

You didn’t catch what prompted it, but your attention was caught when Joseph laughed, “You’ll feel differently once your own son is born in a few months!”

Your son your son your son

But this baby isn’t a boy something inside you responded with a certainty you could not have. There was no way to know that. There was no reason to be so sure.

You were too busy spiraling to catch if and how Ransom responded. But then Joseph turned to you and captured all of your attention. “And look at you, Sweetheart,” he said, his tone slick and smug and awful, “you’re glowing. Don’t you feel silly for the scene you made that night? I told you it was just cold feet.”

Your heart lurched at his words. You didn’t have to pause to try to remember what he was talking about. That awful night when you’d gone to the man who’d raised you since you were six years old and begged him to have a shred of humanity and not all but sell you to a stranger. The night your step-father had laughed at you and patronized you and turned you away. The night your entire world had come crashing down and this man who was supposed to be your family hadn’t cared.

You knew you should say something. You knew you should stand up for yourself, but all you could do was choke on the words as you felt yourself going back in time. As you remembered how completely terrified you’d been.

Ransom went completely still next to you, still holding your hand under the table. “Cold feet?” he asked, his head tilting dangerously. “What are you talking about?”

Joseph seemed to be the only one who hadn’t noticed how tense the atmosphere had gotten. He chuckled. “Oh, she came to me after your first dinner. Fussing about the pregnancy clause. She begged me not to make her go through with the arrangement.” He rolled his eyes. “I told her she was being ridiculous, of course. That there was a lot more riding on this than some silly girl’s nerves over being a mother. And look at her now! I was right. Everything worked out fine.”

Ransom got very, very quiet. The only part of him that moved was a muscle in his jaw that ticked angrily. You squeezed his hand under the table, unsure of what he was going to do. And equally unsure if you wanted to stop him or not.

But before anyone else could say anything, your mom rushed in, her voice panicked and urgent, even as she tried to keep her tone light. “Oh, no, but– But she didn’t mean anything by it! All girls get nervous! It’s normal! It wasn’t anything against you! She just– She– She–“

“My god, Lydia,” Joseph interrupted. “What are you babbling about?”

Your mom went silent, but her eyes stayed on Ransom, desperate, pleading.

You felt Ransom take a deep breath and force his body to relax. He leaned across the table to your mom and said, voice calm and reassuring. “I would never be upset with her for being scared. I promise.” But as he turned from her to Joseph, you watched his face turn to stone. “But I can’t imagine ever turning away my own child if they were that scared of something.”

“It isn’t like she’s my actual child,” Joseph scoffed. “And she was overreacting, being dramatic. Everything turned out fine!”

Ransom’s eyes narrowed as he hummed in thought. “You think you’d be a little more grateful to her, considering the fact that you’ve been trying to get the rights to Harlan’s works for decades without any luck. The only thing that made the deal go through this time was the fact that her addition finally made the pot sweet enough. So it might be a good idea to remember, if I were you, that the one thing holding together the only significant rights deal your flagging studio has had in years is the woman sitting next to me. Just a thought.” And then, just like that, he went back to eating his steak, like nothing had happened. But the hand holding yours shifted so that he could thread your fingers together.

You were quiet on the car ride home. Saying goodbye to your mom had been difficult, even as much as you were ready for your life to go back to normal, whatever that might be. She’d hugged you so tight. You hadn’t wanted to let go.

You were leaning your head against the window, watching the world go by in the dark, when Ransom cleared his throat. “And I thought Linda was a piece of work.” His attempt at humor hung in the air awkwardly. You didn’t say anything or turn to look at him. You were too tired.

“Sorry,” he said after another few long, silent moments. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you said into the window. “I’m fine.” You knew he hated that word, but you didn’t know what else to say.

It was quiet as Ransom merged onto the highway, and then he tried again. “How old was your mom when she had you?”

That finally got you to turn your head. “What?”

He glanced over at you before returning his eyes to the road. “She was a lot younger than I expected.”

You gave him a confused look. “You met her before, didn’t you? At the wedding.”

He sighed and looked at you again. “That was a hard day. There was a lot that never really registered,” he answered, somewhat sheepishly. “And so today, I was surprised. I expected someone older.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “She was twenty with me.”

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself. “And your dad?” he asked, like he didn’t really want to know the answer.

You shrugged, shrinking in on yourself, just a bit. “I don’t know. I was really little, and– I don’t know. Old enough to have a heart attack, I guess.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ransom muttered to himself again.

He didn’t say anything else, but you were finally ready to talk. You had too many words swirling around in your head to be able to stop them from tumbling out of your mouth. “She was really afraid of you. Did you notice that?” You didn’t wait for him to respond. “Really scared. At first, I thought it was so weird. She doesn’t really know you, why would– And then I wondered if maybe she was just afraid of all men. Given her track record– But tonight, during dinner, it clicked. She’s afraid of you because if you got upset about anything, you could take it out on me. That’s what had her terrified. And then I realized, all the advice and the ‘just keep him happy’ and the letting me learn how to cook and how to dance and, and– She thinks she’s protecting me. And she is. I guess. In the only way she knows how. And I want to be grateful for it. I– I do. I am. Maybe. But, god, she still handed me the pen!”

“What pen?” Ransom asked, and you suddenly realized that you weren’t just exorcising your turbulent thoughts into the ether but having a real conversation. With your husband.

You swallowed hard, trying to will yourself to stay in the present instead of hurtling back in time to that awful day that started everything. “When they first showed me the contract for our marriage. When they made me sign it. She’s the one who handed me the pen. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

Ransom didn’t say anything. He didn’t even take his eyes off the road. But he took his right hand off the steering wheel and extended it over the gear shaft to cover both of your hands in your lap. And he maybe didn’t know what to say, but this– It was enough.

A week later, you could tell Ransom was concerned as you walked into the clinic together. You knew why. You’d been quiet all day. Nauseous. Today was the day it could all fall apart.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked as you sat in the waiting room.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said quietly.

That just seemed to worry him more. “Are you sure? Did you eat today?”

“Yes, Ransom, I did,” you lied. “I said I was fine.”

“Is it the baby? They’re healthy, I’m sure. It’s going to be alright.”

You almost laughed in his face. This appointment was not going to be all right. That, you knew for certain. Instead, you just said, “Yes, I know, Ransom,” unable to keep the irritation out of your tone.

He didn’t say anything else, but you could feel him watching you until your name was finally called.

The appointment was going fine. The baby was healthy, a good size. Everything looked the way it was supposed to. You wished you could take comfort in that.

Ransom was staring at the screen of the ultrasound. “Wow,” he said, his voice full of awe and a soft smile on his face. “They’re starting to look like an actual baby.” He looked to you, to share in it, and you found it easier than you expected to smile back. He was so happy. You had to savor it. Especially since you were so scared that he’d no longer be looking at you like that in just a few minutes.

Sooner than you were ready for, Dr. Patel said the words you’d been dreading. “So,” she asked with a grin, “are we learning the sex of the baby today?”

Ransom’s smile got even bigger, eager. “Yea–“

“No!” You interrupted, too loud, too fast. This hadn’t been your plan, but the panic had overtaken you, and you were operating purely on instinct now. “No, we don’t want to find out!”

“What?” Ransom’s shock may have gotten to you if your heartbeat wasn’t so loud in your ears.

“We don’t want to find out,” you repeated, urgently, shaking your head too hard.

He was staring at you. They both were. But you couldn’t do anything about it. You were too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

That got a little easier when your husband finally turned his attention away from you. “Could you give us a minute?”

“Of course,” she said with a tight smile. Then everyone but you and Ransom left the room.

At first, Ransom didn’t say anything. He just held your hand, his thumb sweeping across it in soothing arcs. After a few minutes, his voice impossibly soft, he started a steady tide of comforting murmurs. “Hey, it’s okay, honey. You’re alright. You’re safe. Everything’s okay. Just breathe with me, honey. I’m right here with you. You’re okay.”

You closed your eyes, letting yourself be comforted by it, even if you knew it couldn’t last. After several minutes of that, you’d calmed down enough for him to attempt a real conversation. “I guess we probably should have talked about it first,” he said, keeping that same impossibly soft tone, “but I assumed you’d be excited to find out. I’m really excited to find out.”

At that, you tried to close your eyes even tighter, tears leaking out from the force of it, falling down your cheeks.

His thumb paused, for just a beat, then continued to sweep across your skin. “Honey. Please look at me. It’s okay, I promise. I just want you to look at me.” It took all the strength in you, but after a long moment, you forced your eyes open and finally looked at Ransom. His expression was terribly worried, but he let out a small breath in relief once he could see your eyes. “Okay, can you tell me why that was the wrong thing to say?”

This was the last conversation you wanted to have, but you knew you had no choice, so you powered through as best you could. “You’re excited to find out this baby’s your heir. That’s what you’re excited for.”

“What?” The worry on his face was replaced with sheer confusion. “Honey, I don’t give a shit if this baby’s my heir.”

“Yes, you do,” you countered, voice firm. “You might not know that you do, but you do. All men do, whether you realize it or not.” He opened his mouth to reply, but you kept going before he was able to get any words out. “And I’m not upset with you for that. I’m not. I understand. And I’m not afraid you’ll do something to me if they aren’t the boy you want. I know you won’t. I trust you. I know you’ll even still try to love this baby, but… I just– I just can’t see the disappointment on your face when you find out. I just can’t. I think it will break my heart completely, and I– Maybe it’ll be better if you find out when they’re born. Maybe it’ll be harder to be disappointed when there’s a real baby in your arms instead of just the idea of one. Maybe it won’t. Maybe you’ll still be upset. But I just can’t see your disappointment today. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

Ransom was very quiet for a long time. You didn’t say anything either. You didn’t have anything else to say. You just stared at his hand, still holding yours. Finally, he spoke, his voice surprisingly rough. “You know, there’s a lot I’ve been thinking about lately. A lot of things I’m really worried about. One of the biggest ones is the idea of a little me running around. I was a pretty terrible kid. An awful teenager. A shit twenty-something. I think of a son, and I think of all of the mistakes I’ve ever made. I worry that he won’t be able to escape them. But you know what doesn’t worry me? The thought of a little you. Beautiful. Kind. Funny. Unbelievably brave. That’s who I see when I close my eyes and imagine our child.” He paused, thoughtful, and squeezed your hand. “Either way, the thing I most want for this baby is that they have all the best parts of you and none of the worst parts of me. That’s what’s most important to me. I don’t give a shit about the rest of it.”

You felt another wave of tears fall down your face. Later, maybe you’d be able to tell him all the ways you hoped your child was just like him, all the things of his that you wanted them to inherit, but for now, all you could say was, “You mean it?”

“Yes,” he said, so solemnly, looking you dead in the eyes. “I mean it.”

You took a deep breath. “Okay,” you whispered, not able to get any louder.

“Yeah? Okay? Should we let Dr Patel back in? Are you ready to find out?”

You took another deep breath. And then another. And then you nodded. At least now you would know for sure. Either way.

The doctor and the tech came back in. More gel was squeezed onto your stomach. The baby’s placement was found again. The wand maneuvered around. And then, with a careful smile, a little wary of the news she was about to deliver, Dr. Patel said, “Congratulations. You’re having a girl.”

Your breath stopped again, and your eyes flew to Ransom. He was staring at you. A wide smile on his face. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “It’s okay?” you asked, voice shaking.

“It’s incredible,” he beamed, placing a happy kiss against your forehead. “It’s absolutely incredible.”

Exhaling a breath you felt like you’d been holding for weeks, you finally let yourself let go of some of your worry, just for now, and feel the same joy he felt. You smiled back at him. It was incredible. You were having a girl.

Tag List:

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @steviebbboi @missaprilt23 @thiquefunlover63 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @stellar-solar-flare @alexakeyloveloki @kmc1989 @awkwardgiraffe726 @watermelontidewater @alicedopey @lokislady82 @sassybearfire @mencantaleer @thecrandle @1000plants @remussbitch @rach2602 @dragon-of-dreams @mommad @cookiesandwhimsy @venigrantrogers @bartonsparrow25 @blobfishlol @emerald-writes @cakesandtom @buckets-and-trees @alyssinwunderland-blog-blog @perdidosbucky-yyo

He was taking things slowly. Presumably following your lead. But his hands. His hands always found you.

At least his hands are safe from my wrath 😌 You, on the other hand, are still on thin ice.

“Alright,” he said with a decisive nod. “I’ll play a fucking round of golf. And I’ll demolish him.”

🤭🤭🤭

Ohhhhhkay I am so anxious about the mother’s behavior 😟

“There’s no greater heartbreak than having a daughter.”

IS SHE FOR REAL?!

You believed Ransom when he said he cared about you, cared about this baby. But you’d also seen previously doting husbands turn cold when their hope of an heir, their legacy, came unfulfilled. As painful as it was, your mother was right. You couldn’t afford to ignore everything that was at stake here.

Nooooooooooo. Ugh! She’s been there five minutes and has already pushed her five steps back 😭😭😭

Ransom and Joseph were already at the table. Ransom with a shit-eating grin on his face while Joseph looked thunderous.

Bwahahaha yesssss. Thatta troll 🤭

Ransommmmmmm. You tell him! YOU TELL HIM! Joseph is fucking awful, I hope he dies before the end of the story 🤩

“But you know what doesn’t worry me? The thought of a little you. Beautiful. Kind. Funny. Unbelievably brave. That’s who I see when I close my eyes and imagine our child.”

Welp. I’m fucking sobbing 😭😭😭😭😭

Ransom has grown so much, and I’m so proud of him 🥹😭 And I’m so happy they can both be what the other needs to break the awful, toxic patterns of their fucking horrid families 😤

Lloyd wouldn't pass an opportunity to "cheer up" a girl that was stood up 😆

All smooth and shamelessly direct. He won't charm you with bullshit poetics, but instead pays for the whole meal (dessert included) and makes good on his promise to make you cum multiple times.

Slowly he starts worming his way more, and more into your life.

First he insists you come stay with him for a few days since you’re so sad about everything. Which of course you happily accept. It only makes sense really since you’re practically living there already after all your failed dates.

Then oh no! The cleaner messed up the spare bed! And he wouldn’t be a good best friend if he let you sleep on the couch. No. He insists you cuddle up with him in his bed. It really only makes sense since you tend to seek him out in the middle of the night anyways.

It’s not long before you forget about the dates, and the bed. Because you’re snuggled up with your best friend, enjoying the rhythmic beating of his heart as you lay on his chest. Soaking up the warmth, that the human furnace that he is, provides.

But then there’s a day, your mutual friend sets you up on a promising date. This one is a double date, with her and her boyfriend. You’re confused as you see Ransom’s jaw tick and his fists clench at his sides.

“What’s wrong Ransom?” You gently stroke the furrow in his brow until the muscles loosen and release.

“Maybe you should stay home tonight, Kitten.” He murmurs to you, pulling you close.

“Did something happen?” You question, more worried now, “Are you okay?”

Ransom pulls you into a hug then, burying his face in your neck so you can’t see the fire burning in his eyes. “I don’t-“ he cuts himself off. “Please just stay…”

His whispered words pull at your heart, of course. “Ransom, I’m worried, please just tell me. Are you okay?”

He sighs into your neck, hugging you impossibly tighter. “It’s…it’s something with Grandfather…”

You can hear the wetness in his voice, the crack at the end making your face contort into misery.

“Oh Ransom.” You pull him over to the couch.

“Please,” he’s begging you now, tears gathered in his eyes making the blue shine so much brighter. “Please just stay with me tonight.”

His hands clasped yours, almost afraid to let you go.

“Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

He’ll pull you down to the couch then, snuggling you into his chest. He knows he’ll have to tell you the truth at some point. But for now, just this was enough to soothe his soul.

He’ll watch you as you pick at a thread on his sweater, and then he’ll pick his moment. The perfect moment. Where he’ll tilt your chin up so he can look at you, and you him.

He’ll marvel at the confused expression on your face until, he leans down and seals your lips with his own.

Then it’ll be like two puzzle pieces slipping into place. Because of course you’ve always loved Ransom, maybe you just didn’t realize it was like that.

***

He tuts at your attempted retreat from his touch as he comes to a stop in front of you. His fingers catch beneath your chin, not only to tilt your tear-stained face up, forcing you to meet his gaze, but to reel you in closer, too, so you’re only inches away from his pelvis.

“You’ll learn very quickly not to try to run away from me, sweetheart… I don’t take kindly to defiance, no matter how small the act.” His touch was surprisingly gentle as he drew his knuckles down your cheek. “And something tells me that a delicate thing like you wouldn’t be very good at enduring my brand of punishment.”

You shudder at the steel in Steve’s voice, the hard glint in his eyes.

His outright threat.

Your breath hitches on an aborted sob as he drags you even closer to him, until your face is pressed against the growing bulge at the front of his slacks.

But this time, you don’t try to pull away. Swallowing down your tears, you force yourself to go pliant and sink against him even more.

Steve huffs a quiet, delighted laugh, his voice much warmer now as he coos, “Good girl.”

-

Needless to say, Steve is enjoying himself. Until the business associate across the table from the two of you makes the mistake of looking at you. Of commenting on Steve’s pretty new toy. Of reaching out and brazenly touching your cheek.

Which is the last thing he ever does with that hand.

Or at all.

It happens so quickly, Steve shifting you off his lap, pulling the largest knife you’ve ever seen from behind his back, and stabbing it through the asshole’s hand, pinning it to the table top.

But that isn’t enough retribution for Steve. Before you can blink, he’s on his feet, reaching across the table, and snapping the man’s neck with his bare hands.

You watch in horror as his former business associate slumps across the table.

Dead.

Right out in the open, surrounded by a club full of people, very few of whom seem even a tiny bit surprised or disturbed by this display.

You’re not quick enough—or in your right mind enough—to suppress the terrified whimper that bubbles up as Steve retakes his seat and sweeps you back onto his lap.

“Shhh,” he shushes you with a gentle caress up your side. Until his big hand—one of which he just used to kill someone—is softly cradling the side of your neck and reeling you close.

Steve nuzzles your cheek with a quiet hum, breathing you in on deep breath before letting it out on a sigh.

His fingers tickle beneath your chin, turning your wide, disbelieving gaze his way, and he grins at your complete and utter shock.

“No one touches what’s mine,” he winks before running his thumb along your lower lip then reaching for his drink.

—

But maybe, just maybe, if you’re good for Steve, if you let him use you and you don’t fight him—because you already know he doesn’t like to be defied—maybe he’ll at least let you go once he’s done.

Once he’s satisfied.

A tiny spark of hope ignites in your chest at the thought, and you can’t help but tremble this very thing as Steve touches his lips to the spot where your shoulder meets your neck.

“W-will you let me go? After?”

You feel the way Steve goes absolutely still against you, and you instantly regret your question. It takes everything inside of you not to flinch away as he slowly raises his head and looks you in the eye.

For a long, tense, terrifying moment, his handsome face is a mask of stoic indifference, giving nothing away.

Distantly, fleetingly, you think that this is why Steve is so deadly. So notorious and widely feared. The best at what he does. Because his enemies never see him coming.

After another long, drawn out beat, Steve smirks at you, lips twitching at the corners and eyes shining with a wicked kind of mirth.

You can’t help but get the sense that it’s almost like he knows something that you don’t.

Once again, he shocks you with the gentleness of his touch as he draws his knuckles down the slope of your cheek.

“I’ll tell you what, sweetheart,” he starts, his voice tinged with condescension. “If you don’t like what I do to you, if you don’t enjoy it at all, if you don’t beg me for my cock, or to make you cum, then sure, I’ll let you go.”

At the sound of your breath hitching at his lewd words—at the sinful picture he paints in your mind’s eye—his smirk morphs into a wolfish grin.

Because if there is one thing Steve Rogers knows for sure in this moment, it’s that he’s going to fucking ruin you. He’ll have you begging and cumming and boneless—utterly annihilated and so thoroughly claimed—before the night is through.

And that’s without even fucking you at all.

Because splitting you open with his cock for the very first time? Sheathing himself inside that tight, virgin pussy of yours?

Claiming you as his—and only his?

The music thumped so loud that you could feel it thrumming through your veins. Despite no longer being on the dance floor, you could still see the neon colors pulsing behind your eye lids. 

It was like you existed in a bubble of bliss.

Every sensation was heightened, it was all so much but so good.

Which was probably how you ended up here, face pressed against the grafiti-covered wall of some random club hallway as Robert vigorously fucked you from behind.

As if the steady plunge of his thick cock wasn't enough to drive you wild--to melt your brain entirely--he kept teething on your neck and bare shoulder, likely mesmerized by the sight of his teeth marks pressed into your skin.

He gave a particularly deep thrust that had him bottoming out and making you squeal, groaning loud against your ear as you clenched around his cock, only making him rut into you faster, with more enthusiasm.

It took hardly any time at all for Robert to make you cum, and you swear your soul left your body as you ascended to the heights of pleasure unlike anything you had ever felt before.

You only started to sink back into your body when you felt Robert cum inside you with a throaty grunt and a few deep, lingering thrusts of his cock.

“I swear you got a magical pussy, kitty cat," he gritted against the side of your neck.

You giggled, turning so you could see him out of the corner of your eye, enjoy the way he was nuzzling against your sweaty cheek. “Pretty sure it’s whatever you slipped into our drinks," you replied.

“Either way, I'm not complaining," Robert rumbled. His teeth caught along your lip, making you moan and flutter around him. 

Giving a husky laugh, Robert pulled out of you, but pressed a hand between your shoulder blades to keep you in place when you went to turn around to straighten out your dress. 

"Not so fast, I'm not done with that magical pussy yet. Think she needs a good cleaning after being flooded with my cream." He winked at you before kicking your legs further apart.

Then Robert was sinking to his knees behind you, a big hand on each of your bare ass cheeks so he could spread you open obscenely wide and watch his spend gush out of your still clenching hole. 

So before Steve could open his mouth and say something you were not yet ready to hear, you beat him to it, tossing a piece of opened mail on the counter. 

Steve blinked down at it, frowning once more as he glanced between you and the paper before him. “...my driver’s license renewal card?”

You huffed, leaning closer and stabbing your finger at the date of birth printed on the card stock. “Your birthday is in a few weeks! And you haven’t mentioned it at all!”

“Oh.” Steve’s big, broad shoulders lifted as he gave you a sheepish look, a rosy flush staining his cheeks and working its way to the tips of his ears. “I just… didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” 

“Well what if I want to?” you glared at him. “You were just going to rob me of the full birthday experience?” You made something close to jazz hands that had Steve choking down a laugh because you did seem genuinely irritated by this. “That’s so selfish of you, Hercules,” you finished with a huff, crossing your arms for good measure.

Even though he was able to suppress his laughter, Steve wasn’t able to do the same with his smile. He grinned big, blue eyes twinkling with a very fond sort of mirth as he rounded the counter and pulled you into his arms. 

“You’re right, omega, I’m the worst.”

“Truly!” you nodded in agreement, your own lips twitching as Steve interlocked his hands at the small of your back and kissed your cheek. 

“Next year, I’ll be sure to set monthly reminders for you about my birthday so it’s always top of mind,” Steve murmured, kissing your other cheek. “It won’t be obnoxious at all.”

You nearly giggled, but were able to maintain your stink eye as you gave him an unimpressed look. “You better,” you hmphed, realizing your mistake a second after you spoke. 

That you didn’t object to the fact that you would still be here–with Steve–a year from now.

You hadn’t really thought much about the future since you were a young omega, still brimming with hope and not yet beat down by the state of the world. 

But now… after months of being in Steve’s orbit, of… whatever this was between you–because you still weren’t ready to admit that you were together–the thought of this whole thing not being temporary, of it being your future, of Steve being your future… 

Well, it was an idea that you didn’t hate.

You could tell by the warmth and softness in Steve’s gaze that he was thinking along the same lines as you, but again, you just couldn’t with what ifs, and big feelings, and more. 

Not yet.  

“So,” you cleared your throat, pretending to fiddle with the collar of Steve’s t-shirt so you could escape his intese gaze for a moment. “What would the perfect birthday look like to you?”

Steve was quiet for a moment, for more than a moment, and you felt a swirl of anxiety in your stomach, worried that you had upset him by side-stepping the almost emotional landmine. 

But when you peeked up at him, Steve’s gaze was just as warm and soft as a moment ago, and he was giving you a small, boyish smile as he replied, “I think I have an idea that we’ll both enjoy.”

A few weeks later, on Steve’s birthday, his idea came to fruition, and for the first time in a very long time–maybe ever–you really were getting the full birthday experience, even if it wasn’t your birthday.

But that didn’t make it any less perfect.

Because Steve had driven you upstate to a small lake house in the middle of the woods. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you had been out of the city, and it truly felt like a slice of heaven to be surrounded by nature and quiet and have Steve all to yourself on his special day.  

His special day was just part of the week-long vacation he had surprised you with, and he really had planned it all so perfectly. The fridge and pantry were stocked with your favorite prepped foods and takeout, so neither of you would need to cook. And he had gotten a cute little birthday cake, along with lots of other treats, from his favorite bakery. 

And now, you were both enjoying the gorgeous tranquility around you, as you and Steve sat on the dock out back of the house, watching the sun set over the lake. 

You gave a quiet sigh of contentment as you sank back in the circle of Steve’s arms, allowing your head to fall to the side as his nose skimmed up the side of your throat as he took his time scenting you. 

It was actually the first time you two had ever done this–scenting outside of sex–and you didn’t hate it. You were kind of obsessed with it to be honest.

In fact, you had never been so squirmy in your life, your mind pleasantly hazy and quiet for once as you gave a soft chirp when Steve pressed a kiss to your unmarked mating gland. 

“You smell so good, omega,” he murmured against your skin, inhaling deeply and purring with satisfaction as he basked in your scent. “You always do.”

Your inner omega chirped up a storm, loving Steve’s attention and admiration as you turned your face so you could nuzzle his nose with yours. 

Steve kissed you gently, his eyes so soft and happy as he told you, “This really is the perfect birthday.” His lips touched yours again, lingering this time before he pulled away and breathed, “Thank you, omega. I mean it.”

As he often was, Steve was so earnest in his words and feelings, but something about the sheer affection for you that was coloring his alpha scent had you feeling shy, and a little cranky to be honest. 

Because you were still getting used to how much Steve made you feel and want, even after knowing him for months. But you shoved down the minor flare of irritation that you knew was a defense mechanism, because you would not be bitchy with Steve on his birthday. 

So instead, you playfully rolled your eyes, murmuring, “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you,” Steve grinned. 

Your scent spiked with your own joy–and something wanting–and he huffed a laugh.

He leaned in and kissed your mating gland, laughing again as you squealed and tried to squirm away, overwhelmed by how sensitive that part of you was, especially under Steve’s attention. 

“How do you like it?” he rumbled, eyes twinkling as you huffed and twisted in his hold to glare at him. 

For a moment, you just gave him the best stink eye you could muster, and then, you pounced.

Of course you knew that Steve was letting you “attack” him as he fell back against the dock and took you with him. But that didn’t make it any less silly or fun as you wrestled with him until you straddled his hips and had his hands pinned above his head, preening your victory. 

“Well now that you’ve got me, what are you gonna do with me?” Steve husked, his eyes noticeably darker as you hovered over him. 

For probably the millionth time, you were nearly struck dumb by how gorgeous Steve was. His skin smooth and flawless, his golden hair gleaming in the setting sun and now perfectly mussed. And his eyes–those pretty blue eyes–so expressive as he watched you, as he waited for whatever you deemed came next. 

For a long, quiet moment, you just stared at each other, and then your eyes flickered down to another feature of his that you sure did love–those plump pink lips. 

Those plump, pink, kissable lips. 

“I have a few ideas,” you finally replied before swooping close and capturing his lips with yours. 

Steve groaned into your mouth as you traded pinning his wrists for framing his face between your hands. You made your own sound of delight when you felt his touch at your hips, his fingers pressing into you, holding you tight and urging your body against his even more.  

Your lips teased and tasted until both you and Steve were breathless, and when you finally pulled back enough to raggedly inhale a gulp of air, you paused for a beat, your eyes dancing as you said, “I want smores.”

“I want more too,” Steve immediately returned. His big hand cradled your cheek and tried to reel you back in for another kiss, but you pulled away. 

Giggling as you sat up over him, you shook your head, lips curled into a playful smirk as you tutted, “Keep it in your pants, Hercules. I want smores. You promised we’d make them using that little fire pit on the back deck.”

For a long moment, Steve just stared up at you, uncomprehending, gaping. And it was nearly enough to make you cackle, but then he blinked owlishly, his brain rebooting, and he didn’t look disappointed at all as he said, “Oh. Right.” Instead, he gave your hips a squeeze, his grin boyish as he continued, “I’ll go set it up now.”

You couldn’t help the dreamy sigh that bubbled past your lips as Steve helped you to your feet. Because he really was so good, so perfect.

And he was all yours. 

Preening for a different reason now, you looped your arm through Steve’s, pressing close to his side as you two began to slowly walk back up the dock. 

You felt mischievous as you glanced over and drank in the still flushed state of Steve’s cheeks, the way his lips were still kiss swollen, too.

“After smores, then I’ll give you more,” you teased, shooting Steve a wicked grin. “You can spend the rest of my night fucking me full of your cum and keeping me on your knot, birthday boy.”

Steve tripped over his own feet, making you burst into laughter as you grabbed onto him to help steady his steps, enjoying the way his flush deepened for an entirely different reason now as he shot you a stink eye. 

“You’re such a menace," he muttered, but he was already grinning again as he wrapped his arm around you and tugged you flush against him. “But you’re my menace.”

“Well happy birthday to you,” you chimed, laughing into Steve’s side as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. 

He held you just a little bit tighter as he murmured against your hair, “You’re the best birthday present ever,” rumbling his content as you caught his hand with yours, twined your fingers together, and stayed tucked close as you cleared the dock and made your way back to the lake house. 

—

Please take a moment to comment or reblog. It means a lot to hear from my readers after sharing a story that I put so much love into. Serial liking without engagement is the quickest way to kill my writing motivation, so please don’t do that. It only takes a moment to show a little love. Thank you 🙏🏻

I no longer do tag lists, but if you'd like to be notified when I post new writing, follow my side blog @‌sirisshamelesshoelibrary​ and turn on notifications to get pinged when I drop some new hoe fuel 😘