Sporked by: Anonymous
“Thank you,” Ricky said and handed the bellhop a tip for delivering him to the room in which he would soon be completely destroying any sense of romance that he might have shared with his wife. Thank you, Mr. Bellhop.. Then Ricky picked Rose up and carried her into the room to have her character completely destroyed and her dreams crushed. He laid Rose down on the bed and asked, “Are you ready to be exposed to exceptionally badly written sex now, Mrs. Miller?"
Rose nodded her head, suggesting that her previously strong and willful character had been butchered by the mindless author. Then Ricky and Rose went at each other like raging, freshly unleashed sex beasts and they shared some passionate and totally emotionless kisses. Ricky slowly removed Rose’s dress and wrist corsage and Rose slowly - yes, very slowly, because we clearly can’t use any other form of adjective - removed his tux. It was in no time that they were both naked (omg, no waiii! I didn’t know that removing clothes could result in – nakedness…!) and started exploring each other’s bodies like the British explored the rivers of Africa in an attempt to expand their already far-too-large empire. Oh, I’m sorry – a sex scene? Where?.
Ricky brought his hand and caressed Rose’s body with it. He felt her breasts and they felt so soft. (I think we’re getting confused here. Ratchet is meant to be the, um, oldest Autobot. I think his high intelligence and wisdom would have confirmed his knowledge that breasts are, indeed, relatively soft. Jerk.) Rose moaned in pleasure when Ricky touched her breasts. (Why? I certainly wouldn’t want him touching mine…)
“You like that, Rose? You like being touched, bitch? Yeeeeah! Work it!”
“Yeah, I do.” Rose brought her hand and touched Ricky with it. She probably would have punched him in the face, had she been even remotely in-character, but a smile still came upon Ricky’s undoubtedly passion-distorted face, because he is a sex beast. Ricky’s erection was building up like the Leaning Tower of Pisa for Rose (poor girl – run, before it’s too late!), and he wanted to savor this moment with her, because it’s not as if everybody who reads this will want to forget it, urgently.
“Are you ready for our two souls to be joined together as one in the Cybertronian tradition? Are you ready to condemn yourself to listening to my bullshit about your soft breasts for the rest of your life, bitch...? But most importantly, Rose, are you ready… to be RickRolled?”
“Yes, Ricky. I am ready to be RickRolled.”
Ricky entered inside Rose slowly and formed a rhythm. It went something like “Never gonna give you up… never gonna let you down…” :D Rose moaned in pleasure at the sound of his oh-so-dulcet tones and Ricky went in a little deeper, seriously digging his own fucked-up performance as thousands of infuriated YouTube users howled for his immediate lynching.
“It is getting close, Rose. It is coming. It is… the Apocalypse…! I can feel our two souls joining together… I can feel the rage of the YouTube users… I can feel the fanfiction readers preparing themselves to regurgitate their cheese and ham sandwiches as we defy the very laws of bearable sex-writing…”
“I can feel it too, Ricky. I can feel the Apocalypse!”
Ricky brought Rose closer to him (argh!) and kissed her deeply. The ecstasy (ecstasy? I know I’m not feeling particularly ecstatic…) built up between the two for the past three years caused them to moan in pleasure (omfg, would you just buy yourself a thesaurus already? Holy crap, if you can’t afford a real one, then there’s plenty of fucking websites. People do make other forms of sexual sound, you know.) when their souls combined into one. It was intensely repellent for the readers to see, but it was worthwhile (was it?) because a former Transformer named Ratchet (oh, Ratchet! You mean that awesome guy that you just brutally murdered by turning him into a sexed-up, baseball playing sex beast?) that unwillinglybecame Ricky Miller after being dragged away from the canon, kicking and screaming, was sent to be with Rosa Lee Connelly, now Rosa Lee Miller (noooo!), and now their two souls were joined together in the spark bond.
When it was all over, Ricky held Rose in his arms like Baby Fucking Annabelle. He kissed the top of her head and told her, “We are now both spark mates, my beloved Rose. I love you so much, because you were the only woman that would ever lower herself to being seen anywhere near me. Thank you so, so much. Perhaps now that I’ve used the character of another author, whose stories are probably considerably better-written than my tragic excuse for a fanfiction, you will have brought thousands of adoring reviewers flocking to my side.”
Rose sighed happily, forgetting the considerably better and more independent life that her alternative fanfiction counterparts lived in her absence. “I love you too, Ricky.”
They fell asleep in each other’s arms, in love and in pain as now both husband and wife and sparkmates and the only thing in my life that has ever made me want to gouge my own horrifically scarred eyes out with Chinese chopsticks and display them for the world to see on the top of the Empire State Building. Thank you very much for completely obliterating any kind of emotion that the Ratchet/Rose coupling usually stirs within me, asswipe.