#I’ve had to stop myself from posting a billion things

[theloveinc]

dabi fic possibly today

[hana-no-seiiki]

why does ‘it’ give me so much gender euphoria? i’ve been reading way too much monster! reader fics.

anyways have an old fic of mine from quotev i never got to continue writing lolz have fun. next chapters will be posted on yoru-no-seiiki if ever.

LOVE MULTIPLIED : MONSTER

PROLOGUE:

THE BEAST.

IT WAS A BEING WITH NO NAME, no face, no identity in this world except the cruel things it was designated as by the people it tormented.

By all intents, constructions and purposes, the being was an enigma to humankind. An enigma of atypically molded flesh and bone ; of blood; of darkness — of the heavens and the universe.

When it awoke on this planet, it already knew its purpose.

To tear down humanity’s knowledge that edged far too close to the divine the being called its creator.

Yet, it had underestimated the tenacity of these new creations. 

It had taken them centuries, sure. A number of years enough to carry half a dozen generations. But they had won against it.

It was a being with nothing but the overflowing intent to destroy humanity —

So that one day it may build it back up again to where it will stay juvenile and naïve for eternity.

“You have been captured, Alien. There’s no use to this.” A human that the others called a scientist spoke. They watched with focused eyes, and the creature was almost sure they did not stop to blink for a second.

Alien. It was one of the things humanity thought it was. If anything humanity were the true aliens to this world. How awfully ironic of them to call it that.

It only responded with a deep trill.

“It took us almost a millennium but we did it. We finally — “ The scientist choked on their words for a moment, overwhelmed with sadness, excitement, and most of all anxiety.

”We finally defeated you.”

If their enemy still being alive and capable of destroying several moons with just a thought was considered a victory for humanity. Then maybe the beast had overestimated its quarry. Still it could not deny the impressive feat that is its capture. Though it was mostly its fault for taking so long to finish the job, humanity was nonetheless impressive.

And that is exactly why humankind must be cut off where it stands.

”And… I have you here. All to myself.” The scientist muttered. Fortunately — or was it unfortunately — the forcefield did nothing to stop the sounds coming from outside. So the beast could hear their whispers , and every sound there is and could be in the universe , just as well as them shouting these words out.

It leaned forward, inches away from the forcefield that separated it from tearing the human apart. Is this the type of person that they usually call— what was it again— a creep?

Unfortunately this action only made the scientist blush. Either at the success in finally getting it to do more than growl or from being incredibly close to the murderer of billions. It did not know. 

“The strongest being in this universe — and me, about to be the most knowledgeable human this world has to offer. “ The beast adjusted itself back to a ‘sitting’ position. The scientist took the action as one made in fear — how utterly ridiculous — and waved their hands, ”Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you . . . too much.”

This person was the exact epitome of why the divine creator had sent it here. Humans who venture too far into the unknown turned to fall ill with madness. Really, the creature was doing these beings a favor.

A favor paid in the souls of billions.

Though it knew that if it hadn’t gone through with its divine mission, humanity would inevitably destroyed itself. The creature only accelerated the process and gave them a villain to blame.

”I never experienced the war myself, as old as I am. While those brutes out there kept themselves busy with attempting to destroy you. I knew from the moment I first saw you towering the black skies that the true way to achieve a triumph was to keep you locked. For us to observe.” The human continued musing while they walked around the room.

At this point the monster wasn’t even listening anymore and was thinking of the infinite ways it could reshape this rather annoying scientist.

”For us to learn about.”

It growled. There was nothing to learn about it. Nothing at all. The leathery detached skin in front of its mouth fluttered as the sound emitted across the gigantic chamber.

”And who knows — for us to one day replicate.”

It attempted to reach through the forcefield, the urge to destroy to unbearable. But it is reminded of how they were exactly kept here.

The moment flesh made contact with field, it burns. The creature knew no pain before for it had only known its creator and darkness. But pain, oh how —

— distracting it was.

The scientist paid no mind to its loud roars of agony. Instead they smile as they leave the observation room. 

“I’ll see the next day then, Beast of Judgement.”

ART BY MARK HILYER

©️ hana-no-seiiki - yun | 2023

[jo-harrington]

Thoughts about Writing and Creating

Earlier today I read an article that really resonated with me and specifically made me think about some things within the corner I exist in within the tumblr fanfiction community.

First an intro: Hi! My name is Jo! I’m a 28 year old professional designer and visual artist, and I write about a silly metal head from the 80’s. I’ve been reading and writing fanfic in some way shape or form since I was 12. (Way before I should have.) There are people who’ve been in fandom longer than I have. And some people who are new to this world.

The thoughts I’m conveying below are mine alone and you may agree or you may not. Me writing this is to get these thoughts out and, hopefully, inspire some peace in my community and impart some lessons on some newer members of fandom. If you disagree with my opinions, please feel free to make your own. Post about them or shoot me a PM and we can have a peaceful discussion.

This post is NOT meant as an open door to hatred. If you come to me looking to fight, or dehumanize me, you will be blocked. I have seen enough in my time on tumblr to know how to protect my peace.

That being said, let’s proceed:

The article (I’ll link it below) was about the new Little Mermaid movie and how this “live action Disney revolution” is just a signifier of how media is recycled and that no idea is a new one. In any creative outlet. And while the article itself delves into the history of the Little Mermaid or mermaids themselves and all of that, the nuance of reference versus inspiration, the final idea was: never stop creating, never stop being inspired, never stop exploring.

How does that pertain to fanfiction though? How does that apply to me?

There’s been a lot of talk recently of “this person copied this idea” or “this is just a ripoff of that.” Enough that it drives people off of tumblr or stops them creating altogether. Makes people think that they’ve done something wrong. Some of this talk is is done by creators themselves, some is done by devoted friends or fans. And it is truly a shame, and I think it’s time that we stop.

This is not saying “plagiarism” or “copy and pasting word for word with a bit of name changing” is ok. No, those things are not ok. And people are allowed to be protective of their creations! Writers and artists put their heart and soul into their work.

But in terms of people’s genuine creativity…we need to be more tolerant of overlap. Whether we create or consume.

I’m currently writing a Freaky Friday Alternate Universe featuring 2 characters from a Netflix show. My story would not exist if these other media sources and inspirations didn’t exist. Does that mean my story should not exist or be told? Does that mean my writing isn’t good? No and no.

I don’t profit from my work. I write for me. For my friends. For you. I have nothing to gain and nothing to lose. And if someone came to me tomorrow and said “hey, I wanted to write another Freaky Friday story,” so long as they didn’t copy my work word for word…well…you know what? I would be happy about it! Welcome it. Encourage them.

How can I tell someone no? Forbid them to try and use my idea—whether they were inspired by it or just…stumbled on it by chance as they got the idea organically themselves? What if they had genuine inspiration and could write this story better? Who, if they’ve never written before, might have just found their first chance to do so?

How could I dare to stop someone from being inspired? When I dared to follow the same inspiration for myself?

Now I know there are a lot more personal or original ideas and fanfictions out there. But at the end of the day, everything had been done in some way shape or form. We are all inspired by something. We have overlapping experiences. (I myself have found a good friend in this community who has life experiences so close to my own it’s frightening.)

There are 8 billion of us on this planet, thinking and imagining. Living. There is no one in a million idea anymore when we are consuming so much diverse media at any given time during the day.

Again, if you’re a creator, you’re allowed to be protective of your creation. But you are not allowed to stunt someone’s inspiration or growth. We are not fighting one another in fandom. We are all in this little corner together. Someone getting a like or a comment doesn’t mean that a like or a comment was taken away from you.

And if you’re a consumer of fanfiction, if you’re here to support a friend or just someone who created something you love…yes, it may be something you look forward to, but you should never hurt someone just because you think they might have “stolen” or “hurt” your writer friends. This is a place for all of us to feel safe.

Consider the Golden Rule: Treat others the way you would want to be treated.

There are no big blogs or small blogs. Notes aren’t important. What is important is kindness and community.

And we should all be welcome here.

Article: There’s No Such Thing as a New Idea

[whatthisfemsheplikes]

GUESS WHO’S BACK

I HAVE AWOKEN FROM MY *checks calendar* TWO YEAR SLUMBER! MAY THE G/T ANGST RAIN DOWN UPON THIS PAGE ONCE MORE!

In all seriousness though, hi! I’ve got some news!

I don’t know if anyone will still remember this, but I used to have a sideblog a few years ago where I posted my g/t story called See Me. Unfortunately, I decided to delete that sideblog for a number of reasons, but eventually I came back to my main and said I’d put See Me somewhere else, potentially on AO3. Right after I said that, I asked for an invitation to AO3, did a little bit of waiting and then... totally forgot about it.

What can I say? We were in the heat of Covid times, my mental health was at an ATL, I was moving, and lots of other adult stuff happened. Since then, I just felt kind of bad about returning to this page with no new content of my own to put out. I used to write a lot and enjoy it, but lots of stuff in my life has been going on the past two years that hasn’t really motivated me to do any writing or creating of any kind. I know that I could still be liking and reblogging stuff, but coming back here just made me miss what I used to create, so I stopped for a little while. 

BUT NOT FOR LONG! While it may not sound great, through a lot of self-reflection and therapy, I’ve kind of discovered that nowadays, I turn to g/t content when I’m going through a hard time. And, not gonna lie, I’m DEEP in the trenches from fucked up life events right now, so naturally, I found myself back on tumblr to connect with the g/t community again. But not on this page. That’s right! I made a new page and I’ve been LURKIN’ out here! And no, I will not reveal what that page is, but feel free to tell me if you think you’ve figured it out and I’ll be more than happy to tell you if that page is me or not. 

Anyway, since I’ve been lurking and consuming as much g/t content as I can get my hands on, I’ve also gone back to my own archives and read through See Me about a billion more times. Not only did I polish it up a lot while keeping everything pretty much the same (mostly fixing spelling and grammar) but I also just told myself “you know what, I still really like this story.” And reading so many other amazing stories from other g/t writers on here really inspired me to finally get out there and put See Me back into the universe, while also writing a few new stories and AUs in the process that will hopefully see the light of day at some point. 

ALL OF THAT TO SAY... I did it. See Me is finally up on AO3 right now! At least, MOST of it is. I really had to take a hard look at my word doc and think “why did I do this to myself” when I counted 39 chapters with almost 400 pages that I wanted to reread, edit again, and possibly add some polish on, chapter by chapter before putting it on AO3. As of writing this, I started uploading chapters last night and am currently done uploading chapter 19. So... about halfway done! I’m still going to keep uploading as I had the time to do so (I do have work tomorrow so... not as much time as the weekend but I’m going to post more) and eventually all 39 chapters will be available just as you remember them (or are reading for the first time if you never got to read See Me before). 

I’ll also be uploading any of the prompt stories and other short stories I made to AO3, and any prompts that I get and write here in the future will be available there as well. Like I said, I have some new ideas too, some AUs and some completely new universes with new OCs that have also been sitting in my hard drive since I first started writing g/t stuff years ago. I’m hoping to keep up this motivation and to eventually write and put out those stories on AO3 too, so stick around for that if you’re interested! 

To anyone that is still following this page and has maybe even been waiting for See Me to come back, thank you for your patience and support. I hope you still enjoy what I put out there, and I hope to keep up this motivation to create, even after things hopefully get better in my personal life. 

As a little aside, some of the big motivators in my comeback, even though they wouldn’t know it, are @not-a-space-alien with their story Watch Your Step, @marydublinauthor and @bittykimmy13 with all their wonderful Shot In The Dark and Print/Trinket stories (please go buy their books, they are absolutely amazing), and @ratcatcher0325​ with their stories A Fraction of Justice and Nobody’s Fool. I know that these tags might come out of nowhere for all of you, as I don’t think I’ve interacted with any of you personally on this account, but your stories inspire me so much that it really pushed me to put my work back out there again, especially if my work could make someone as happy as all your stories make me. So thank you! I look forward to reading all that you create in the future! And in case you’re thinking “but you only just started following me today/recently,” well, like I said, I’ve been lurking on another account, so I’m sure you might’ve seen me there and just not known it. Anyway, keep up the amazing work, and everyone else please go read their stuff! It’s awesome and full of g/t goodness!

Well, I think that’s everything I had to say. I’m going to try and be more active on here and not just update about my AO3, because I don’t think that would be very fun. I’ll still get on here and like and reblog things that I like so feel free to stick around and interact. And if you want to interact with my work, please visit my AO3 page right here, or search for whatthisfemsheplikes on AO3! I’d love to see you there! Here’s to the future and I hope you all have some happy holidays coming up!

- Mo-Mo

TLDR; Life sucks but I’ve posted See Me, my g/t story, on AO3 so it’s back on the internet. You can read that and anything else I write on my page right here, or find me under the same username whatthisfemsheplikes on AO3! 

[mrthoughtbubbles]

Hi Yeet,

Today, I’ll try to change things a little bit… Today, I’ll talk about Emperor Nero’s bathtub, also known as the “porphyry basin.” Porphyry, which came from ancient Greek, πορφύρα (porphyra), means purple, and the color purple, for the Romans, is the color of royalty. It is an extremely rare type of marble found in a single,remote quarry in Egypt and experts estimate the price of this bathtub to be around $2 billion, which is bigger than the GDP of other countries…

I changed it a little bit, Yeet, so that I can include random information swirling in my head every now and then... I understand that, at a certain point, I won’t have anything to share with you, and I also dread that, at some point, you’ll get tired of me and I’m terrified that you’ll leave… I don’t know if you get irritated with my worries, and most likely it’s just inside my head, but please bear with me… When I ask myself the question why, like why do fear you leaving me, it’s partly due to what happened to me in the past, and partly my answer is “basta,” or just because, and when that’s my answer, it’s most likely my paranoia…

Today, mama, my sister, and I visited my pregnant sister and I worry about her because he had to take care of my sick brother-in-law, do chores, and work whilst pregnant at the same time… So, we helped her with the things she had to do, bought food for them, and just spent time with her. I really admire the convenience of their home since almost everything is just walking distance away, but I’d prefer it if they’re closer to our home so that we can take care of them if they’re sick or having problems…

I feel that you’re getting angry already, Yeet,which is what my brain is telling me with regard to your recent post wherein you’re showing the teeth of your fur baby… I’ll just like it and won’t post a comment on it because I am afraid… Maybe you’re just sharing it with everyone and I’m just overthinking, but either way, the problem is with me and my paranoia…

I guess I’ll end my message here, Yeet…I’m still gauging and waiting on how much money my sister needs cause it varies depending on the doctor’s prognosis… If she needs shots, aside from her everyday injections, once every two weeks or if she needs shots once every month for the next three months… Seeing all the trouble my sister is going through with her pregnancy, It hurts… We still didn’t tell papa about ate’s pregnancy because he feels the pain that my ate went and is going through… I hope that ate will have at least 1 child… Anyway, I’ve been rambling about a lot of things already, but before I end my message, I just have to tell you something, okay…? I feel that I’m not good enough for you, Yeet, I feel that I’ll only make you angry and disappointed, that I’ll just hinder you… If you want me to stop, please give me a hint and I’ll understand… If that day comes, I’ll just look at your posts from far away, quietly root for you with everything you’re doing, and try to be happy for you. At the end of the day, I want you to always appreciate everything, remember that you’re beautiful even if there are times wherein you don’t feel it or feel insecure about yourself, pray/talk to God, and remember that you’ll always have a place in my heart, Yeet.

[officialtayley]

Ash, you got a long ask earlier that bothered me when I read it. To the anon who wrote that, I am begging you to learn more about this occupation because calling it a “conflict” clearly means you’ve only consumed Western media’s coverage of it. 

Saying “it's sooo fucking easy to keep tagging paramore saying that they totally should speak up while what does it ACTUALLY change?? nothing.” is just wrong cause it won’t be nothing.

paramore speaking up and amplifying Palestinian’s voice would not stop this genocide but it will create a much safer community in this fandom for our fellow muslim and Arab friends. There’s a reason why this fandom got more diverse over the years and that’s cause the band made it clear where they stand when talking about racial justice. You can’t deny that the majority of paramore fans get influenced by a lot of the stuff the band shares. I’ve seen fans attend shows from artists that the band recommends, I know fans who bought the same instruments as Taylor and zac and this is the fandom that tolerated and bought expensive ugly merch for a long time cause it had the paramore brand attached to it. Imagine if they share info on how to call congressmen to demand a ceasefire, you don’t think more fans would be more motivated to do it? Imagine if they share a donation link or team up with an organization like they have done in the past. You don’t think it will have an impact? 

Saying “I’m so sick of this narrative that paramore created expectations of them ALWAYS speaking up in EVERY injustice or tragic, y'all created this expectation. every activism is a selective activism. they never pretended they were gonna to speak up about everything.” Is just tone-deaf anon, I’m sorry to be blunt but the wording on this is insensitive.

This is the biggest thing happening in the world right now and US citizens specifically are all complicit in this cause their tax dollars are funding the IDF that is massacring innocent civilians. No one is asking them to speak about everything but how are they just gonna ignore a genocide? When the Ukraine war started, they didn’t ignore it, they even wrote a song about it because the coverage was everywhere and you couldn’t ignore it and move on with your life. Now it’s happening again but at a larger scale, Israel has now killed more civilians in Gaza in 30 days than Russia has in its entire war in Ukraine, which began over 600 days ago (this is the number from an NPR article published on nov 6 2023). How are you just gonna ignore this, how’s the band gonna make speeches about taking care of each other when they have ignored Palestinians? 

Out of all of the things Palestinians could have asked all of us, they just asked us to spread the word and share the things they posted because they know that the Western media are all on Israel's side. I’m not only mad at paramore, I’m mad at every single artist that was fine with calling out loud loud racist like Trump but now are silent when POTUS is hugging and offering billion of dollars of aid to a dictator and war criminal. Where’s billie eillish and taylor swift too? They were both proud at calling out politicians and now it’s silent too. 

Maybe it’s cause I grew up in a colonized country and I see the effects it has on its people every day here and I’m more sensitive to it but how do you look at those numerous videos of Palestinians crying over dead family members and destroyed homes and lands and not have the urge to speak up about the injustice? How do people look at that and just move on 

👏👏👏 this this this! thank you for picking it apart cause so much of it bothered me but i just didn't have the energy to go through it.

the last paragraph though, i feel like i'm sensitive to death, especially when it involves children and babies due to losing my baby sister in 2007. watching your own parents go through that pain and then also i was going through it myself, when i see those videos it's extremely heartbreaking because it's like no one cares. these families are losing each other, losing entire bloodlines, and people are somehow able to just keep scrolling without a word? it's different obviously if the content is triggering, but many of us are still able to share other things and use our voices, but outside of that, i have no idea how people can just move on with their day.

[yoshimonster]

Blog #7: I’m Back After About a Month of Not Posting

Hello again world! I should try to sound excited once more for this grand comeback post, which I believe will just be as ordinary as the last time I posted.

So, life moved on, I guess – I actually did my exam for circuit again which I was really glad to have had a chance to do it again considering how stupid (by stupid I mean I was just being a plain idiot and not doing things I already knew how to do) I had been the first time around. It was definitely really easily passable/more than passable if I am being honest and also this was sort of proven with the make up test I did. I did way better and got 85.5% actually compared to the abysmal 38.25% (and even managed to score an extra point during my remark, but the cut off was 40%) and you wouldn’t even know it looking at my transcript. I guess I should have been really mindful the first time around and definitely could have achieved a Credit/Distinction if I really tried hard. Same thing also happened with a coding subject I did last semester, just plain not understanding the vibe caused me to pass by 2 points rather than if I actually just read the question/understood the topic much better I would’ve been fine and potentially scored much higher like a Credit/Distinction. But yes, I’ll just stop with the recap here – I definitely have mentally moved on given the new semester has well and truly started. My maths still remains one of my weakest subjects and I definitely need to majorly brush up on it for this semester’s algorithms course I’m taking. Again, I’m lightening my course load and taking less subjects in general and less subjects with exams (aka group project courses) so as to really brush up for this/also apply for more jobs.

I actually found out about this opportunity recently via my parents and it sounds extremely exciting given the capability/calbre of the job program. As I was putting my application together I just realised how much time I wasted on experiences that could have been something more – sort of like when you handed something so valuable yet you don’t know what you are actually holding. I think you can liken this to going to a museum and being handed some really valuable artwork (from the time era) but disliking it because you don’t understand it or even care to understand it. I’m hoping this analogy makes sense – but wasted potential essentially.

I have enjoyed putting things together this time around, much more than the usual job application anxiety I have because I managed to know myself so painfully thoroughly these past few years that I almost feel numb talking about myself. It’s such a weird combination of acceptance and fear. I have no clue what will happen going next but I do feel much better these days. I think that’s also sort of reflective everywhere – situations/people that were really disappointed in me have improved slightly at the very least and I’m pretty thankful for that. I don’t really want to take it for granted again.

Again, the Taylor Swift saga is well and truly over, I don’t think my sister or I are getting tickets unless we find them on some resale website or friends we know hand us those tickets. I’m sure it will be really fun for people who do get to go, especially since I’ve been seeing posts everywhere of people purchasing tickets in other countries – spots in Asia are particularly popular from what I see. I also sent in my email to a local radio station as a last-ditch effort in the middle of this. I’m definitely not going to get it, my reasoning to get the tickets was way too generic I would say.

But yes, this month has been fun – no major friendship drama, though I’m sure it will start up again as quite a few of my friends are graduating soon. I also finally had the chance to catch up with many of my older friends within a short period of time since I was studying all of July essentially. The highlights being: Barbie movie broke a billion, Korean food is bejewelled, and I probably won’t be going to that Thai place again. Socially, things are still able to maintained somewhat too and I’m really trying to (still) figure out a balance.

-yoshimonster-

[cinemorg]

Barbie (2023)

This movie has made like half a billion dollars in its first week so odds are good that you've seen it, but in case you haven’t seen it, let’s get the plot synopsis out of the way (SPOILERS):

Margot Robbie plays Stereotypical Barbie, the tall blonde pretty skinny Barbie in a world of other Barbies who are slightly different (most notably Weird Barbie (Kate McKinnon)). Ryan Gosling plays Ken, surrounded by a few other Kens led by Simu Liu, and Allan (Michael Cera), a perpetually uncomfortable friend of Ken’s who seems to love the man deeply while also being very annoyed by him much of the time (don’t say Greta Gerwig knows nothing about male friendships).

During a girls’ night dance party, Stereotypical Barbie starts to have some unexpected and unprecedented thoughts about death, and wakes up the next morning to find that nothing in her home in Barbie Land is working the way it should. She seeks counsel from Weird Barbie, who tells her that she needs to go to the real world and find the girl her doll avatar belongs to and get her to stop thinking about stuff. That’s Gloria (America Ferrera), a somewhat timid woman with a murky career at Mattel and a caustic teenage daughter named Sasha (Ariana Greenblatt). So Barbie sets out to find Gloria, while Ken tags along and discovers the wonders of patriarchy. After a lot of zaniness, confusion, and pictures of horses, Stereotypical Barbie exiles herself from Barbie Land and joins forces with Gloria and Sasha to visit a gynecologist.

I debated with myself for a little while whether to try to approach this movie, because although I really enjoyed it, it’s very obviously not made for me and there’s no way I can understand it in the way someone who grew up playing with Barbie can understand it. It’s a story about what it means to grow out of the childish fantasies represented by Barbie and all of her friends and professions, and begin to confront the reality that there is no valid culturally approved femininity (or masculinity) to grow into anymore, which is a difficult situation that the Barbie concept simultaneously encourages, laments, ignores, and helped to create. I can speak to Ken’s bullshit here, but to some extent the interplay between Stereotypical Barbie, Gloria, Sasha, the CEO of Mattel (Will Ferrell), Ruth Handler (Rhea Perlman), and the world at large is unknowable to me because they are based on experiences and fantasies I’ve never had, stories about myself I’ve never been told. But in the end I decided I wanted to try, because the discourse around this thing has become so muddy and stupid it’s threatening to overtake the merit of the film itself, which is a real shame.

Obviously there is nothing to the right-wing idea that the movie is too feminist or anti-man, and those criticisms can be dismissed without a second thought. Right-wing commentators like to pretend that they’ve never actually met a man in real life, but the rest of us have, and we know that most men would, if given the opportunity, be absolutely thrilled to take up residence in a big stupid mansion and call it the Mojo Dojo Casa House. Every cis-het man wants to wear obnoxious clothes, sing songs with his friends, and cry. Not up for debate, sorry. As for the too-feminist angle, the primary goal of the women in this story seems to be to feel like they’re not doing everything wrong every minute of every day. If you oppose that, get fucked!

I’ve also seen a lot of pretzel-knot-logic thinkpieces and social media posts deliberating with excruciating self-consciousness whether Barbie is feminist enough, whether it’s too capitalist, whether it really understands itself. This is third-wave feminism masquerading as something modern in a time when even fourth-wave feminism is sunsetting. All of these concerns come second, and a distant second at that, to whether it’s a fun, clever movie that you can have a good time watching with your friends and helps you feel good about yourself. We don’t have time anymore for tedious, labored games of “Should I Be Enjoying This?”

More about that: Greta Gerwig’s real triumph here is not that she managed to get Mattel to produce a movie that’s openly critical of its product (while also selling it), or that she created something that can be easily imagined to be infuriating to bigots, or even just that she made a lot of money for a lot of people; it’s that she managed to use a plastic fantasy land to make an engaging movie about the lived experiences of multiple generations of American women where everyone is kind of stupid and cringe in equal measure, but each character comes out looking like some kind of hero if you think about them for long enough. That’s the triumph because that’s real life.

There’s an effort here to release us from the prison of constantly asking ourselves whether we are feminist enough, or too capitalist, or if we understand ourselves, by more or less taking the position that to an extent these questions are nonsensical to ask about your personal experience as someone who is growing and developing in a world that you didn’t create and can’t control. I’m sure there are plenty of Mattel products floating in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. You probably also played with a Weird Barbie when you were a kid. These things aren’t really spiritually related, and shouldn’t be. When Gloria, someone who lives an unremarkable life but spends her free time drawing pictures of Crippling Shame Barbie, delivers her tired (though still not wrong) speech about the contradictory expectations put on women in American society and then gets brutally shot down trying to pitch an “Ordinary Barbie” to the Mattel CEO, that’s not supposed to be the moment that ties the whole film’s message together; that’s a woman who has yet to learn that there can be no ordinary Barbie because there are no ordinary women. She is still growing, as is her daughter, as is Barbie, as are we all, and all this bone-headed discussion about whether Greta Gerwig has accomplished these granular yet amorphous feminist-labeled goals only serves to suppress that realistic and compassionate ideal in favor of yet another set of impossible-to-meet standards.

That said, I want to bring this back to Barbie visiting her gynecologist for the first time. Gerwig herself has said in interviews that her own memories of feeling ashamed of her body inspired her to include that scene, because she wanted girls in the audience to see Barbie happily taking care of herself and know that it wasn’t something that needed to be hidden. It also seems to be an important line in that much is made earlier in the movie of Barbie having no vagina (in one scene she says plainly to a group of wolf-whistling construction workers, “You should know that I don’t have a vagina.”), but here she is confirming that not only does she have one now that she’s transitioned to the real world, she has a human one that needs maintenance. She is real now. She is herself, whatever that might be. And as intent as some seem to be on robbing this movie of its authenticity, the singular characteristic of Gerwig’s Barbie that shines through is that for all of its silliness, it’s a genuine film with genuine heart, and that’s what it wants for its audience. Be genuine people, or do the best you can. Forget the rest.

P.S. I know I’m ignoring Ken’s storyline, which is a huge part of the movie. Suffice to say that Ken’s self-worth is completely tied up in getting a woman’s attention, and when that doesn’t work he tries to heal his wounds by fully investing in patriarchy, which also doesn’t work. So then he has to try getting a life. Tale as old as time.

[sylvielauffeydottir]

Hello, it is I, your friendly neighborhood historian. I am ready to lose followers for this post, but I have two masters degrees in history and one of my focuses has been middle eastern area studies. Furthermore, I’ve been tired of watching the world be reduced to pithy little infographics, and I believe there is no point to my education if I don’t put it to good use. Finally, I am ethnically Asheknazi Jewish. This does not color my opinion in this post — I am in support of either a one or two state solution for Israel and Palestine, depending on the factors determined by the Palestinian Authority, and the Israeli Government does not speak for me. I hate Netanyahu. A lot. With that said, my family was slaughtered at Auschwitz-Birkenau. I have stood in front of that memorial wall at the Holocaust memorial in DC for my great uncle Simon and my great uncle Louis and cried as I lit a candle. Louis was a rabbi, and he preached mitzvot and tolerance. He died anyway. 

There’s a great many things I want to say about what is happening in the Middle East right now, but let’s start with some facts. 

In early May, there were talks of a coalition government that might have put together (among other parties, the Knesset is absolutely gigantic and usually has about 11-13 political parties at once) the Yesh Atid, a center-left party, and the United Arab List, a Palestinian party. For the first time, Palestinians would have been members of the Israeli government in their own right. And what happened, all of the sudden? A war broke out. A war that, amazingly, seemed to shield Benjamin Netanyahu from criminal prosecution, despite the fact that he has been under investigation for corruption for some time now and the only thing that is stopping a real investigation is the fact that he is Prime Minister.

Funny how that happened. 

There’s a second thing people ought to know, and it is about Hamas. I’ve found it really disturbing to see people defending Hamas on a world stage because, whether or not people want to believe it, Hamas is a terrorist organization. I’m sorry, but it is. Those are the facts. I’m not being a right wing extremist or even a Republican or whatever else or want to lob at me here. I’m a liberal historian with some facts. They are a terrorist organization, and they don’t care if their people die. 

Here’s what you need to know: 

There are two governments for the occupied Palestinian territories in the West Bank and Gaza. In April 2021, Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas postponed planned elections. He said it was because of a dispute amid Israeli-annexed East Jerusalum. He is 85 years old, and his Fatah Party is losing power to Hamas. Everyone knows that. Palestinians know that. 

Here’s the thing about Hamas: they might be terrorists, but aren’t idiots. They understand that they have a frustrated population filled with people who have been brutalized by their neighbors. And they also understand that Israel has something called the iron dome defense system, which means that if you throw a rocket at it, it probably won’t kill anyone (though there have been people in Israel who died, including Holocaust survivors). Israel will, however, retaliate, and when they do, they will kill Palestinian civilians. On a world stage, this looks horrible. The death toll, because Palestinians don’t have the same defense system, is always skewed. Should the Israeli government do that? No. It’s morally repugnant. It’s wrong. It’s unfair. It’s hurting people without the capability to defend themselves. But is Hamas counting on them to for the propaganda? Yeah. Absolutely. They’re literally willing to kill their other people for it.

You know why this works for Hamas? They know that Israel will respond anyway, despite the moral concerns. And if you’re curious why, you can read some books on the matter (Six Days of War by Michael Oren; The Yom Kippur War by Abraham Rabinovich; Rise and Kill First by Ronen Bergmen; Antisemitism by Deborah Lipstadt; and Israel: A Concise History of a Nation Reborn by Daniel Gordis). The TL;DR, if you aren’t interested in homework, is that Israel believes they have no choice but to defend themselves against what they consider ‘hostile powers.’ And it’s almost entirely to do with the Holocaust. It’s a little David v Goliath. It is, dare I say, complicated.

I’m barely scratching the surface here. 

(We won’t get into this in this post, though if you want to DM me for details, it might be worth knowing that Iran funds Hamas and basically supplies them with all of their weapons, and part of the reason the United States has been so reluctant to engage with this conflict is that Iran is currently in Vienna trying to restore its nuclear deal with western powers. The USA cannot afford to piss off Iran right now, and therefore cannot afford to aggravative Hamas and also needs to rely on Israel to destroy Irani nuclear facilities if the deal goes south. So, you know, there is that).

There are some people who will tell you that criticism of the Israel government is antisemitic. They are almost entirely members of the right wing, evangelical community, and they don’t speak for the Jewish community. The majority of Jewish people and Jewish Americans in particular are criticizing the Israeli government right now. The majority of Jewish people in the diaspora and in Israel support Palestinian rights and are speaking out about it. And actually, when they talk about it, they are putting themselves in great danger to do so. Because it really isn’t safe to be visibly Jewish right now. People may not want to listen to Jews when they speak about antisemitism or may want to believe that antisemitism ‘isn’t real’ because ‘the Holocaust is over’ but that is absolutely untrue. In 2019, antisemitic hate crimes in the United States reached a high we have never seen before. I remember that, because I was living in London, and I was super scared for my family at the time. Since then, that number has increased by nearly 400% in the last ten days. If you don’t believe me, have some articles about it (one, two, three, four, and five, to name a few). 

I live in New York City, where a man was beaten in Time Square while attending a Free Palestine rally and wearing a kippah. I’m sorry, but being visibly Jewish near a pro-Palestine rally? That was enough to have a bunch of people just start beating on him? I made a previous post detailing how there are Jews being attacked all over the world, and there is a very good timeline of recent hate crimes against Jews that you can find right here. These are Jews, by the way, who have nothing to do with Israel or Palestine. They are Americans or Europeans or Canadians who are living their lives. In some cases, they are at pro-Palestine rallies and they are trying to help, but they just look visibly Jewish.  God Forbid we are the wrong ethnicity for your rally, even if we agree.

This is really serious. There are people calling for the death of all Jews. There are people calling for another Holocaust. 

There are 14 million Jews in the world. 14 million. Of 7.6 billion. And you think it isn’t a problem the way people treat us?

Anyway (aside from, you know, compassion), why does this matter? This matters because stuff like this deters Jews who want to be part of the pro-Palestine movement because they are literally scared for their safety. I said this before, and I will say it again: Zionism was, historically speaking, a very unpopular opinion. It was only widespread antisemitic violence (you know, the Holocaust) that made Jews believe there was a necessity for a Jewish state. Honestly, it wasn’t until the Pittsburgh synagogue shooting that I supported it the abstract idea too.

I grew up in New York City, I am a liberal Jew, and I believe in the rights of marginalized and oppressed people to self-determine worldwide. Growing up, I also fit the profile of what many scholars describe as the self hating Jew, because I believed that, in order to justify myself in American liberal society, I had to hate Israel, and I had to be anti-Zionist by default, even if I didn’t always understand what ‘Zionism’ meant in abstract. Well, I am 27 years old now with two masters degrees in history, and here is what Zionism means to me: I hate the Israeli government. They do not speak for me. But I am not anti-Zionist. I believe in the necessity for a Jewish state — a state where all Jews are welcome, regardless of their background, regardless of their nationality. 

There needs to be a place where Jews, an ethnic minority who are unwelcome in nearly every state in the world, have a place where they are free from persecution — a place where they feel protected. And I don’t think there is anything wrong with that place being the place where Jews are ethnically indigenous to. Because believe it or not, whether it is inconvenient, Jews are indigenous to the land of Israel. I’ve addressed this in this post.

With that said, that doesn’t mean you can kick the Palestinian people out. They are also indigenous to that land, which is addressed in the same post, if you don’t trust me. 

What is incredible to me is that Zionism is defined, by the Oxford English Dixtionary, as “A movement [that called originally for] the reestablishment of a Jewish nationhood in Palestine, and [since 1948] the development of the State of Israel.” Whether we agree with this or not, there were early disagreements about the location of a ‘Jewish state,’ and some, like Maurice de Hirsch, believed it ought to be located in South America, for example. Others believed it should be located in Africa. The point is that the original plans for the Jewish state were about safety. The plan changed because Jews wanted to return to their homeland, the largest project of decolonization and indigenous reclamation ever to be undertaken by an indigenous group. Whether you want to hear that or not, it is true. Read a book or two. Then you might know what I mean.

When people say this is a complicated issue, they aren’t being facetious. They aren’t trying to obfuscate the point. They often aren’t even trying to defend the Israeli government, because I certainly am not — I think they are abhorrent. But there is no future in the Middle East if the Israelis and Palestinians don’t form a state that has an equal right of return and recognizes both of their indigenousness, and that will never happen if people can’t stop throwing vitriolic rhetoric around.  Is the Israeli Government bad? Yes. Are Israeli citizens bad? Largely, no. They want to defend their families, and they want to defend their people. This is basically the same as the fact that Palestinian people aren’t bad, though Hamas often is. And for the love of god, stop defending terrorist organizations. Just stop. They kill their own people for their own power and for their own benefit. 

And yes, one more time, the Israeli government is so, so, so wrong. But god, think about your words, and think about how you are enabling Nazis. The rhetoric the left is using is hurting Jews. I am afraid to leave my house. I’m afraid to identify as Jewish on tumblr. I’m afraid for my family, afraid for my friends. People I know are afraid for me. 

It’s 2021. I am not my great uncle. I cried for him, but I shouldn’t have to die like him. 

Words have consequences. Language has consequences. And genuinely, I do not think everyone is a bad person, so think about what you are putting into the world, because you’d be surprised how often you are doing a Nazi a favor or two. 

Is that really what you want? To do a Nazi a favor or two? I don’t think that you do. I hope you don’t, at least.

That’s all. You know, five thousand words later. But uh, think a little. Please. 

[venomous--fics]

Anon Requested: Omg wait can i request a fic where reader feels like they aren’t good enough for eddie and venom so reader breaks up with them and eddies sad and just a lot of angst (BUT happy ending) if not thats okay !

A/n: Day 5!! I'm think about just extending the weekathon to the entire month! Not too sure yet, but I should decide quickly huh!! I just think it'd be fun to do something like that. Maybe get more and more festive along the way. What do you think?

Song: Halley's Comet by Billie Eilish

"So, that's just it? You're just gonna up and leave and not tell us why?"

He wanted to sound mad, but his voice gave it all away. You couldn't stand the thought of what you were doing to them both. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at them as you left. You didn't even bother to grab your things. You just left emptyhanded.

Subconsciously, maybe you knew you'd find your way back eventually. But...Not now.

The weight of the world began to crush you with every step you took away from their place. You knew they were watching you from the window. If you had to leave, they'd at least make sure you'd stay safe.

It all felt like a cruel punchline to an unfunny joke. How could you be such a fool to think you'd be good for them? They....They were a protector. A lethal one, but still a protector. They helped people and saved the world from every threat imaginable. You sometimes couldn't even drag yourself out of bed.

It didn't seem fair to drag them down like that. They deserved better. They deserved the world, and you just couldn't give them that. Someday they'd find someone who would.

That night was spent alone on a friend's spare guest bed. The world was so quiet. There were no streetlights beaming into your room. There was no more sounds of late night traffic or the people talking and walking as they passed under your shared window.

There was no more fighting Venom for the comforter because he'd purposely hog it just to get your attention. It always worked. There wasn't the usually jokes about forgetting to set your alarms for the work morning ahead.

You simply set your alarm and laid down. The world seemed so much colder and emptier. It didn't seem fun and bright anymore. The bed felt much more spacious now.. The pillows felt too squishy and new. The sheets looked nothing like his.

Staring at the wall wasn't going to put you to sleep any faster, so you rolled over and clamped your eyes shut. You willed yourself to not cry.

The tv kept repeating the same old stuff. Robbery after robbery. Someone got shot. A car accident. Oh, it's going to rain tomorrow.

We should be fixing that..

"I don't feel like doing anything anymore."

"I don't feel like doing anything anymore either, V."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Normally there'd be some form of a pep talk from you, but now.. Your spot on the couch was empty. All that was there to suggest that you even existed was your favorite throw pillow.

With hesitation, Eddie grabbed the pillow and held it in his lap. It still looked brand new, and that's simply because you always knew how to take care of things. Nothing of yours ever really got broken or misplaced..And you always knew just how to handle things.

"I miss them."

A thought they shared in common. It's felt like months, but it's only been a couple of weeks. Your things were still occupying space here. It was almost torturous having to look at them each day and know that you weren't going to come home.

It was that thought that broke them both. They curled up on the couch, sad and defeated. The world was incomplete because you weren't here to make ti better. A rough day at work? You'd say, "Oh, don't worry." as you made some hot coco to relax with. Emotions getting out of control? You were always there with ways to fix them.

Did they take you for granted? Did they forget to cherish you? Did they do something wrong? Everyone always told them that they were just screwups who ruined everything, so maybe they just fucked it up again.

Maybe they'd learn to live with it. Just not today.

It's just not home anymore. Home is where you were.

The rain was awfully heavy today. But you were thankful. Today was hitting you harder than the last few. You were stumbling down the sidewalk, tears streaming down your face. Nothing seemed to hold any meaning anymore. You'd pass by Mrs. Chen's shop, and normally you'd stop by there to get Eddie and V a snack or two. But now, you simply keep walking.

Today you just let your body walk. To where? Wherever you felt like you needed to go. You were so tired, and so worn down. That only help cement in the fact that you just... You were an absolute nobody. Who could love a nobody?

If only you were born gifted with the brains, the talents or even the powers. Maybe you'd be worth something. Maybe you'd see yourself as more. Maybe if you felt like you held any importance to anyone, you'd find a reason to stick around anywhere, with anyone.

Despite wanted to be more to literally anyone, all you could think is being better for them. They meant so much, no, no, they mean so much to you. It felt so dumb and childish to be so hung up on two of the goofiest creatures on this planet. You couldn't lie to anyone. You were hopelessly in love with Eddie Brock, a man who truly was a breed of his own. And you were in love with Venom, an alien with a heart bigger than his stomach but he's too embarrassed to say it.

You don't want to love them anymore. Because you still believe it was better to not be with them.

You slumped against a light post and wiped your eyes. You tried everything to stop the tears from flowing, but that only made them multiply. You'd scold yourself if you had the energy.

The world really did begin to feel more and more empty. People seemed to walk pass and not even give you a second glance. None of them cared, and to be honest, neither did you. Normally you never noticed other people, because you'd be so wrapped up in whatever it was you and Eddie, and yes, Venom too, were doing.

But they aren't here anymore. You were back to where you started. Alone and afraid of what the world had in store. You used to wake up knowing what you'd be doing...But now you weren't sure.

You remained leaned against the streetlight for an eternity. The sun had set and the moon had risen, yet you remained put. Everything was cold now. The rain had subsided, but the light continued to drip down on you, but even then, you didn't have the willpower to move.

It's better to be cold than to have never been warm, right? That is how the saying goes...Right?

You sniffled, waiting for the next set of drops to hit your head, but they never did. You slowly looked up and saw someone's hands holding up a jacket. They looked like they were doing their best to hold it up like an umbrella, and without touching you. You recognized the jacket immediately, even just from seeing the inside of it. You'd worn it so many times.

You stood up straight and turned around, being greeted with the sight of Eddie. He looked just as tired as you, and just as lost. He looked like he had a million things to say, but it seems like the cat had his tongue.

The universe was giving you a chance. For some reason.

"I'm sorry." was the first thing to spill out of your mouth.

"We're sorry, too."

"You didn- It was me. I was.." You took a step back from under the jacket, but it seems like Venom wasn't having any of that. He moved Eddie's body for him, this time, draping the jacket on your shoulders.

You gently crossed your arms and held them close, appreciating the gesture now.

"You can leave now. If you want." Eddie moved back a little, "We just saw that you were cold.."

"I don't want to go." you gripped onto the jacket, trying to fight the new wave of tears threatening to come out, "I just.. I had to because I felt like I wasn't good enough."

You were about to ramble on when Eddie cut you off, "That's why you left?"

"I'm sorry." You felt like you could just curl up and die on the sidewalk.

You looked down, staring at the cracks that littered the walkway. You'd find someway to make this poetic.

Two hands, one human and the other very much not, wrapped themselves around you as they pulled you into a warm embrace.

"Did we make you feel that way?"

The way Eddie's voice cracked made your arms go limp at your sides.

"No. I made myself feel that way- But I can't help it. You guys do so much good and I-"

"We love you."

The hug got tighter, "We used to do what we did because it was the right thing to do. But then we met you and it all changed. It seems so cliche to say that, but...It's true."

"You're just saying that."

"We adore you. We promised to do everything we can to make sure we leave this world a better place for you."

Your hands shook as your fought with yourself. You wanted to hold them just as close as they were holding you, but you felt-

"I don't deserve this.."

Unworthy.

In typical Brock fashion, and never knowing how to truly deal with his emotions, Eddie clung to you, almost pleading, "Would you just listen to what we're saying."

"You can't love me."

"Why the hell not? Huh? Whose going to stop us?"

"Nobody's going to stop us."

"Why is it me. Out of all the worthy people, why me?"

"You're such a good person. I know you don't see that..But you're the kindest person I've ever met."

"Certainly the nicest I've met..."

Every last word you wanted to yell out into the night sky just vanished from your mind. You wrapped your arms around Eddie and squeezed as hard as you could.

"How many times do we have to say it to make you believe it?"

"I'll say it a billion times," Eddie said, "Most guys would quit at a million but me? I don't know when to quit."

"It's true. He doesn't. But if saying it a billion times gets you to come home, then I'd do it a million more than him."

"I," You started, taking in a deep shaky breath, "I wanna go home regardless."

"We can talk more there if you're comfortable."

"With coco."

"I would like that."

The walk home was a talkative one.

Eddie's hand held yours tightly, but not too tight. He was so afraid that if he didn't hold it firmly enough, you'd simply slip away again. He was sure as hell not letting that happen again.

The apartment looked the exact same as when you left. You were so surprised by that. Normally they'd be a mess if you were gone for too long, and the apartment would reflect that.

"It all looks the same."

"Oh. Yeah." Eddie busied himself with fetching the hot chocolate ingredients.

"We couldn't bring ourselves to ruin your hard work...Or move your things." For the first time, Venom seemed sad.

They both seemed tired. You wanted to feel bad, knowing that they felt that way because of you. But knowing that they loved you meant that they felt bad, not because of you, but because you were gone.

Without thinking, your hand reached out and grabbed Eddie's arm, startling him a little.

"Can we go lay down for a little bit.." you asked quietly, "I think we all need a little rest."

Relief washed over him as he set down the cups and lead the way to the bedroom. There was no more words as you three crashed onto the mattress. Venom used a small tendril to turn the lamp off and pull you closer to Eddie.

"Are you okay with loving a nobody like me?" you asked as you watched him shut his eyes.

"Are you okay with loving two nobodies?"

"We are all losers."

Venom pulled a blanket over you and Eddie, going so far as to fluff the pillows under your heads.

"And that's okay. I love us the way we all are."

You yawned for the first time in ages as your eyes closed, "I love us too."

There was that familiar light coming through the window. And there was the sounds of the cars and the people. The world felt just right and you were home. You moved closer to Eddie and placed a quick, soft kiss on his lips, and his arms were quick to wrap around you.

You felt a soft tendril wrap around your arm.

"I know what you're feeling and what you're thinking." His voice sounded surprisingly quiet, "But you are more than enough for us. We don't say it, but sometimes we feel the same way. You could certainly do better than us. But.."

The tendril tighten a little, but not enough to really do much.

"You left and we realized...We don't know what to do without you. We didn't feel like doing anything anymore. It felt pointless."

You turned your head to look at your arm, seeing two small white eyes staring at you with a mixture of sadness and adoration.

"I know I'm not good with these human emotions..I might never be good with them, but..I know that I love you. And Eddie loves you too. We always try our best to show you..But you are truly all we need to be happy in this life."

You were a bit shocked with how much Venom had to say. Most of the time, he tried to use the least amount of words possible to get his point across, so you knew that he meant it.

"You both complete me, and for once, I finally have the courage to say it, because I don't know when I'll get the chance to say it again."

You smiled softly at him, and moved your arm in a way where you could place a soft kiss onto the top of his tiny little worm head.

"I won't leave again. I promise we can talk about it first."

"Talking is good."

"I love you, V."

"I love you too." He seemed to pause as he shot a glance up to Eddie, just to make sure he was still asleep, "More than that guy."

"Not possible." Eddie groaned, adjusting a little.

You smiled a little as you curled up under the blanket and actually shut your eyes for good for the night. Finally, a good night's rest. You still had doubts, maybe not many and none as big and frightening as before, but that was normal.

Not everything in life is a given or a certainty. You're not promised to tomorrow and it's not a give that you'll be a millionaire. But where you are now is where you're supposed to be. Don't doubt it. The two halves of your heart will quite literally walk to the ends of the universe just to see you smile, and that's more than enough for you.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Dress

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter sees you in a dress for the first time

Masterlist

“Hi, Petey.” You greeted your boyfriend as you walked into his room. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he sat at his desk and kissed his cheek.

“Hi.” Peter said before looking up. When he finally tore himself away from his notes, his jaw dropped at the sight of you in a dress.

“Woah.” He mumbled quietly.

“What?”

“You...you’re wearing a dress.” He said as a smile broke through on his lips.

You gulped and looked down at your dress, acting as if it hadn’t been on your mind since the moment you put it on. You never wore dresses, or really anything that showed off you body. There was a certain comfort you found in baggy clothes that left absolutely everything to the imagination. If no one could see, no one could judge, and that’s how you liked it.

“Oh, yeah.” You pretended to notice the dress for the first time. “I am.”

“I’ve never seen you in a dress before.” Peters smile grew. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve seen you in anything but black jeans or sweats.”

“Yeah, well.” You shrugged shyly. “It’s a little hot for those.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, but he was barely listening. “Have you always had that dress?”

“Yeah. I just never wear it.”

“Why not?” He asked as if it was crazy.

“I don’t know.” You chuckled at his behavior. “It’s a little revealing, don’t you think?”

“No.” He said immediately. “No, um, I think it’s perfect.”

“What?” You laughed in surprise. “You do?”

“How have I never seen this before?” Peter tugged on the bottom of the dress as he admired it. “How come you don’t wear this everyday?”

“Are you playing with me right now?” You asked skeptically.

“No.” Peter furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t look that good.”

“Baby, with all due respect, you have never been more wrong.” Peter insisted as he got out of his chair. “You literally look perfect.”

“What?” You laughed again. “No I don’t.”

“Yes you do. Like, holy shit.” Peter put his hand on his chest and blew out a breath. “I have to sit down.”

Peter collapsed on the bed and took a deep breath, never taking his eyes off you in your dress.

“You have to be messing with me right now.” You shook your head in disbelief.

“I’m not. I’m just speechless. Give me a minute.” He requested as he stood back up. He took his time looking you up and down, admiring every inch of you in the dress.

“You’re speechless over the dress?” You raised an eyebrow. “It’s not even that cute. And you can see my stretch marks.”

“I know.” He sighed dreamily. “Oh my God. I can’t breathe.”

“What? They’re so ugly.” You insecurely squeezed your thighs together to hide the marks.

“Ugly?” Peter asked. “They’re like perfect little brushstrokes on the worlds most beautiful canvas.”

“No they’re not.” You said quietly.

“Um, yes they are.” Peter scoffed. “Don’t you know texture is what adds to the price of a painting?”

“Don’t be a smart ass.” You told him. You were already insecure about the dress, and Peter joking about it was only making it worse for you.

“I’m not.” Peter said sincerely. “Baby, how do you not see what I see? You look like an angel.”

“No I don’t.” You disagreed. “I probably look so stupid in this.”

“You do look stupid.” He nodded. “Stupid hot.”

“Stop.” You couldn’t help but smile.

“Stupid sexy?” He asked. “Is that better?”

“No.” You answered as you fought a smile. You folded your arms over your chest to try to cover yourself up, feeling more vulnerable than usual in your lack of clothing.

“Don’t cover up, please.” Peter requested as he gently moved your arms away from yourself. “I want to see the full picture.”

“The full picture has marks and scars and bumps and whatever the hell else is wrong with my body.” You mumbled as you looked down at your body.

“Wrong? Are we looking at the same body?” Peter asked. “Because I see nothing but perfection.”

“My body is not perfect.” You told him in an unamused tone.

“Your honor, she’s lying.” Peter said as he looked around.

“I’m not.” You laughed and poked his chest. “You are. You’re acting like a have a nice body when we both know I don’t. I shouldn’t have worn the dress. I don’t have the right body for it.”

Peter stared at you for a moment, realizing your feelings went deeper than just the dress. He frowned a little as a sadness clouded his brown eyes.

“Come here.” He said suddenly as he brought you over to his mirror. He stood behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, letting you rest your back on him.

“Would you look at someone else with this body and call them ugly?” He asked quietly as he stared at you in the mirror. You stared back at him as you slowly realized what he was doing.

“No.” You said finally. “I wouldn’t.”

“So why would you say those things about yourself?”

“I don’t know.” You said quietly.

“That’s okay.” Peter told you. “It’s a process, learning to love yourself. And the hardest step is always going to be step one.”

You tried to move away from the mirror, feeling insecure as you stared at your reflection, but Peter kept you in place.

“I love your body.” Peter stated. “I love it because it’s warm when you lay down beside me. And it wraps around me when I’m sad. I also love the way it looks in this dress.”

You stayed quiet as Peter listed a few more things he loved about your body. You stared at yourself as he described what he loved, trying your best to see what he saw.

“We are so lucky to have bodies, you know?” Peter said softly. “Our bodies hold us upright and keep us together. And our bodies allow us to hug people when we love them and jump when we’re happy and let feel warmth and pain and pleasure and all that good stuff. Don’t be mean to your body. It’s not mean to you.”

“This dress may have pulled a philosopher out of you.” You said as a smile broke through your lips.

“Maybe.” Peter chuckled before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Be nicer to yourself, okay? For me?”

“I’ll try.” You told him, and you meant it.

“Thank you.” He smiled. “Now could you do me a favor and tell yourself that you’re beautiful?”

“I don’t wanna.” You whined and put your hands over his.

“Just once.” He promised. “I want to hear you say it. Even if you don’t mean it, just say it.”

You looked at him for a long time in the mirror before letting out a sigh. Finally, you looked at yourself and gave yourself a weak smile.

“I’m beautiful.”

“Wow. So conceited.” Peter clicked his tongue.

“Peter.” You whined again.

“I’m kidding.” He kissed your cheek again. “I agree. You are beautiful. Don’t forget that.”

You smiled at Peter in the mirror before craning your neck to look at him.

“I won’t.” You promised. “I just need a reminder sometimes.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” He told you. “Now, what other outfits have you been hiding from me?”

Tag List 🏷

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[hockey-x-imagines]

As She’s Walking Away

A/N: Here’s a little something.. I actually hate this short, but after rewriting it a billion times I decided to just post it. I’ve had some really bad writing blocks and I’m really hoping to have more updates in the next week. I hope you guys like this better than I do. As always feedback is always welcome.🙂

Pairing: Tyler x Tatum (I needed to use a name because I was having a hard time doing the Y/N)

Word Count: 3100

*********************************************************

It had been about a month since I last saw her. It had been a month since I fell in love with a girl I had never met before. She has never left my mind no matter how hard I tried. It doesn't matter how hard I looked on social media, I couldn't find her. 

The game ended and Jamie asked: "Are you coming out with us tonight?". It was our win, so I should have wanted to celebrate with the team, but I didn't want to go. Jamie continued, noticing my hesitation. "Come out and get your mind off the girl." I hesitated. 

My half-hearted answer was, "Yeah, sure.". He was right. I had to stop thinking about that nameless girl. In all honesty, I had little chance of ever running into her again.  Getting dressed again, we head out. "Where are we headed?" I ask. 

"Our usual spot. If you want, you can get in with me." 

Shaking my head, I replied, "I'll just follow.". He didn't have to know that I wasn't planning on staying long. Driving to the bar, I struggled with my emotions. The thing is, I really didn't want to go out with guys, but I knew I should. Walking into the bar, I found myself feeling uneasy and I didn't know why. 

As I stepped in to view, the faces of each of my teammates lit up. Jamie's smile was the biggest. I really didn't realize how out of it I was.

"Hey watch it jackass!" A lady snapped as I bumped into her. Looking down, I made sure I hadn't spilled her drink or harmed her. I couldn't believe my eyes. I was looking at the girl that had been haunting me. 

"I, uh-I-I'm sorry." I ran to the table where everyone was sitting. I was disappointed in the way I dealt with that interaction. I'm typically calm and collected, yet you would think the exact opposite. 

"What the hell just happened?" Jake asked. By the looks, I was getting everyone wanted to ask the same. 

"I think I just ran into the girl from the game I've been obsessing over." I blurt. For the life of me, I couldn't understand where the lack of confidence was coming from. I drank the beer Jamie handed to me in a few gulps. The hope was that it'd calm my nerves, it didn't. 

"You should go talk to her." Jamie nudged my shoulder. Logically that made sense, but I wasn't able to think logically. "If you don't, I will. She's super cute." Jamie added. I knew he was trying to get me to talk to her, it didn't work. It just pissed me off. 

***********************************************************************************************

Tatum's P.O.V

Even though I've always said I wanted to travel, I never seriously considered it until last month. My little sister attended her first hockey game, and I attended my first NHL game. Having no pro team in Utah, we traveled to Denver. That was the first time I had driven further than an hour and the first time I had driven on the freeway. I found the drive to be less stressful than I had expected. 

Despite the shitshow that was the 16th Street mall, our first night in Denver turned out fairly well. On game day, however, the shitshow was even bigger. The day began with breakfast. With no thought, I didn't get ready at all. Big mistake. It was 12:30 by the time we had reached our hotel. I had to get my hair and makeup done as well as Hannah's hair and makeup. Plus, I had to stop and buy Hannah a pair of jeans to complete her outfit. Arriving at the mall I realized I wasn't wearing a bra when we walked in, I felt like a chicken without a head. After finding the jeans, getting me a bra, and leaving the mall, it is about 3:45 and the arena is about ten minutes away, so I take a deep breath and think that all that is left is getting changed and going to the game. NOT THE CASE. It took a few missed turns before we finally found the arena, but once at the arena, I couldn't find the parking lot we were supposed to be in and asked someone for directions several times before finding it but finding a parking spot was no problem. It's 4:45 now, and I still need to change. Hannah changed while I drove around in circles. We're dressed, and I have my keys, purse, and phone in my hand. I realize we don't have masks as we walk into the arena and start freaking out, thankfully a few people were handing them out. I have never been to a pro sports event, so I'm not sure how the process of getting to our seat works. At the concerts I've attended, you wait in line for hours if you're not careful. The fact that it took us maybe 10 minutes to get from the curb to our seats was a relief I don't think anyone can imagine.

Each of us has experienced moments that are breathtaking and awe-inspiring. For us, it was our first of many. It didn't hit me until we were walked to our seats how close we would be to the ice. Having passed the regular seating, we approached what appeared to be makeshift seats. We were seated in folding chairs. When I saw our seats, I nearly cried, so I called mom and showed her. As I took it all in, Hannah spotted Tyler staring at me several times, and I noticed other players staring at us as well. It was the most exciting moment of my life.

The excitement grew throughout the game. During the intermission between the first and second periods, Tyler and I made eye contact. Even though it was brief, there was still some sort of connection between us. Even though there were so many Avalanche fans around us, we made so much noise that we earned a few glances here and there. During the third I had caught some old men staring at Hannah weirdly, me being the overprotective asshole that I am, I stared until they looked away. Unfortunately, we lost the game, but damn it was an amazing game and one of the most memorable nights of my life.

The experience of leaving the arena and parking lot wasn't the nightmare I expected. I was incredibly grateful for that.

Once I had been on that trip, I was hooked. With work and money, planning for my next trip was almost impossible. Fast forward to now, I'm in a bar in downtown Dallas. Earlier this month, my best friend, Anna, scheduled a trip to Dallas and purchased tickets for tonight's game. I was always the type to avoid hanging out in bars because it was never my thing.

Anna had disappeared leaving me standing awkwardly alone. As I stood waiting for Anna to come to find me some guy approached me. It was fairly clear he was trying to hit on me, he was failing miserably but I didn't say anything. I'm not really the social butterfly type, however, after a few drinks, I'm a little more open to talking to anyone and everyone. Between trying to pay attention to this guy and scanning the bar for Anna, I really wasn't paying attention to what was going on around me. I spotted Anna and before I could take a step, what felt like a brick wall ran into me.

"Hey, watch it jackass!" I sounded much harsher than I intended to. Looking up my jaw hits the floor, I just unintentionally yelled at Tyler Seguin. 

"I, uh-I-I'm sorry." He stuttered before running off. I couldn't wrap my head around his response or his reaction. He seemed so timid, definitely not the playboy the media portrays. 

"Dude you just talked to Tyler fucking Seguin!" Anna yelled as she approached me. 

"I wouldn't call that interaction him talking to me." I chuckle. She looks confused, "I snapped at him, then he stuttered an apology and literally ran away." She laughs and we find a spot at the bar. We stood waiting for what seemed like an hour before the bartender acknowledged us. 

"Courtesy of the man seated over there." She points in the direction of a table surrounded by several men. From where we sat all I could see were a bunch of backs.

"Uh, did he give you a name by chance? I see several men, but all I can see is their backs." I ask before she could get too far.

"A man said it was from Tyler, but he didn't give a last name." She shrugged before attending to another customer.

"You don't think that-"

I was cut off by Anna's shriek: "Tyler Seguin just bought you a drink!". Maybe, but I doubt it. There are probably several Tylers here.

"I don't think he bought me a drink. There must be another Tyler here tonight." I couldn't tell if I was trying to convince Anna or myself.

I knew what she was going to say even before she opened her mouth: "You might be right, but you'll never know until you ask." I knew what she was going to say. Despite my urge to ask, I could not find the courage to go over to that table. She noticed the look of dread on my face and offered, "You can ask yourself, or I'll do it for you.". Part of me wanted to ask her to find out, but I knew I would look like a chicken shit if she did. If Tyler Seguin had been the one, I didn't want to come across that way. Inhaling deeply, I walk toward the table the bartender had pointed to. 

*********************************************************************************************

Tyler's P.O.V

The conversation around me abruptly came to a halt, and Jamie wore a shit-eating grin. "Ty you should turn around." I hesitated, before turning to find the girl I ran into standing behind me.

She said, "Thanks for the drink you bought me." I had no idea what she was talking about since I had not bought her the drink. As I turned to Jamie, his grin was even wider. There was no way he could resist interfering.

A small smile appeared on my face as I replied, "Oh, no problem." Here we go again with the lack of confidence. "I'll be right back," I said.

"Um, sure." I ran back into the restroom after that reply. I needed to motivate myself. The girl who I can't seem to get out of my head was standing next to me. Looking in the mirror, I told myself to pull myself together and at least have a conversation with her. As I walked back to our table, I had expected her to be absent. I sighed with relief when I saw her sitting with the guys.

"Hey, do you wanna go on a walk with me?" Fuck I sounded so awkward. She looked up at me and nodded her head. "Follow me." Once we were outside the bar, I asked her what her name was.

"It's Tatum," she replied with a smile. "You played well tonight," she told him. It was comforting to know I wasn't the only one who felt awkward.

"Thank you. I didn't see you in the crowd." That was an odd thing to say, and from the look on her face, she thought so too.

"My best friend bought our tickets at the last minute, so all the good seats were already taken." She paused, "So I should probably text her." She got out her phone and sent a quick text. 'Go ahead, you lead the way.'" she replied.

She followed me through the parking lot and we started walking down the sidewalk. I had no plan whatsoever. "So how long will you be in town?" I have never been successful at small talk.

"I think we'll be leaving in two days, but we might leave tomorrow."

I almost felt hopeful knowing she'd be in town for a few more days. "Nice, nice. How have you liked Dallas?" I asked.

We haven't done much since we flew in yesterday, but it has been enjoyable." 

********************************************************************************************

Tatum's P.O.V

I will be honest, I was not sure how to handle the interaction with Tyler. My alleged drink was bought by him, I thanked him, and he looked utterly lost, before vanishing.

I was not talking to anyone in particular. I thought any of the guys could answer my question, "is Tyler always like this?"

It does not surprise me to hear Jamie say, "nope. You're special." His response caught me off guard.

"What makes me special?" Jamie's response wasn't clear to me.

I'm sure Tyler will tell you," he said, causing more confusion. Never would I have imagined that I would meet anyone from the Stars. I would have never thought Tyler and Jamie would be so awkward and cryptic.

Tyler asked, "Wanna go for a walk with me?". I nodded in agreement. "Follow me." Once we were outside the bar, he asked me my name.

"Tatum," I replied with a smile. "You played well tonight," I told him. I was hoping he wouldn't realize how nervous I was.

Thank you. I didn't notice you in the crowd. I thought that was strange. Could he still remember me from Denver? That seems unlikely.

"My best friend bought our tickets at the last minute, so all the good seats were already taken." I paused, "So I should probably text her." I didn't need Anna worrying about my whereabouts. 'Go ahead, you lead the way.'" I replied putting my phone away.

The two of us walked down the sidewalk after Tyler led us through the parking lot. I had no idea where he would take me. There was a little concern in the back of my head that I might be in danger.

"I think we'll be leaving in two days, but we might leave tomorrow."

"Nice, nice. How have you liked Dallas?" Tyler almost seemed happy that I'd be in town for a few more days.

"We haven't done much since we flew in yesterday, but it has been enjoyable."

As we walked, we got into a light conversation. Taylor mentioned something about the team, and it reminded me of Jamie's comment. The situation didn't seem like it could be handled smoothly. "Can I ask you a quick question?" I asked.

Tyler's steps never faltered. He responded, "Yes, of course.".

"While you were in the bathroom, Jamie told me I was special. When I asked him what he meant, he said, you'd have to tell me." Tyler froze before me, it was almost like he wasn't sure what to do. "Honestly, it isn't that big a deal. I was just curious. Jamie may just have been joking."

Tyler muttered, "He wasn't just joking around." I saw him run his hand through his hair before he turned to face me. It's starting to feel like I'm dreaming. Would it be okay if we had this conversation somewhere more private?"

"Okay, that's fine." It would be great if someone could explain how I'm supposed to interpret everything that has happened thus far. Never before have I felt so confused. Tyler walks us back to the bar, stopping at his car.

Nervous Tyler looks so cute when he says, "Would it be okay if we went for a drive?"

I tried to lighten the mood by saying, "I'm okay with that, as long as you don't kill me.". I sent Anna another quick text as Tyler drove away from the parking lot.

Don't worry about me if you'd like to return to the hotel. Tyler is taking me for a drive.

In the end, I don't want to scare you with what I'm about to say, but there's nothing else to say." I waited for him to say, "When we last played in Denver, I saw you in the crowd, and I kind of fell for you." He mumbled the last part of his statement.

"Sorry, could you repeat that last part again? I couldn't hear you." 

*********************************************************

Tyler's P.O.V.

It happened, actually, I felt feelings for you. I am not quite sure how or why it happened, but I did. For the last month, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, and I have searched social media relentlessly trying to locate you, but was unsuccessful." This time I blurted it out instead of whispering. Her eyes are wide as I look over at her.

Her silence lasts for a few minutes, and I'm scared that I've freaked her out.

"Can you pull over?" Fuck. I did freak her out.

My time with her was being cut short, but I suppose it's my fault. "I can take you back to your hotel if you want." I couldn't deny I was a bit disappointed.

The tone in Tatum's voice was unreadable. "I just want you to pull over." she said. I pulled into an empty parking lot near the park as she asked. "I don't mean to be rude, but is this for real? Are you serious now? Is this not just a ploy to get me to go home with you?" Her words hurt just a little. I couldn't blame her for thinking that way.

It sounds too strange and isn't something that happens often, but I fell for you really hard. Talk to any one of my teammates. They'll tell you." I couldn't look at her.

"Ty, please look at me." She glanced at me, noting my hesitation, and said, "Please?"

"I felt something when we had made eye contact. I never thought I would see you off the ice." Tatum admitted. 

Her lips drew my attention as she spoke. They looked so soft, and I found myself wondering what she tasted like. I wondered how it would feel to have her lips on mine. Without hesitation, I gently guided her face to mine. Her lips were still against mine. Part of me expected Tatum to pull away from me. I started getting anxious and my overthinking started. She kissed me back, softly, open-mouthed, with warm lips. Although her lips brushed against mine in perfect rhythm, I still felt nervous. Her hand running through my hair in reassurance finally calmed my anxiety.

"Oh wow." Tatum pulls away our lips, separating them with a soft smack.

"I agree." I chuckle.

[apiratecalledav]

Quick note: I’m not back; I’ve got too much to deal with but I figured it’s only fair I post my thoughts about Stranger Things 4 volume II since I shared part one. I also might have a couple of jokes/shit posts to make if I can summon the energy in the next few days. 

Anyway—

Whew 😅 What a ride. Overall, an incredibly epic finale for a mostly spectacular season. But. Well…  shit happens, doesn’t it? And crappy, forced love triangles are the worst. Spoilers, obviously.

The Good

First of all: Eddie. Eddie. EDDIE.  

 I originally thought he was going to play a song to save Nancy from Vecna. But when the longer volume ii trailer made it clear that Nancy’s capture was only temporary, I thought for sure he’d play Master of Puppets aka the original title of episode nine. I was soo hyped. Then when the episode dropped and they changed the title, I thought there must have been a last minute issue with the rights or something and I was bummed. When it started playing, I nearly levitated with excitement. “This is for you, Chrissy.” 🥺 I also love that he and Dustin got to have a moment afterwards to just fanboy together. 

When he cut the sheets down and stayed in the Upside Down after Dustin was safe, I had Finnick flashbacks from The Hunger Games. Glad he got to have a proper fight scene and final words. I really would have lost it if he just got engulfed by monsters and vanished.

I knew he was gonna die but honestly, I thought they’d try to soften the blow/make it a little lighter by having Eddie sacrifice himself for Steve and crack a few self deprecating jokes along the way. But when he told Dustin to “never change” I said, “Oh, no” out loud. I knew then they weren’t going to show mercy so I did my best to prepare myself. It was beautifully done and I got teary eyed, especially when When It’s Cold I’d Like to Die started playing. But Dustin talking to Eddie’s uncle made me sob. I was not expecting any of that. Ugliest of ugly cries, okay?

Bonus points for a truly heartfelt, non-joking exchange of platonic “I love yous” between two young men. 

I definitely understand why some are angry that Eddie’s name wasn’t cleared but tragedy is part of his character… And there’s also a really powerful message— Eddie did things his way and he did them for himself and the people he loved. He found what made him happy and didn’t care what anyone else thought.  He never once succumbed to “might as well be bad since everyone already assumes it anyway.” He never stopped reaching out to lost sheep. Not to get all evangelical or anything, but Eddie was a true shepherd of the Lord; despite being branded as a devil, Eddie was more righteous than his “godly” neighbors, many of whom were more concerned about appearances than actual good. Eddie saved Dustin, did what he could to avenge Chrissy, and was metal AF until the end. That’s what was important to him, not what a bunch of strangers thought. I know that he and Chrissy are at their picnic table in the sky, living their best afterlives while they wait for Uncle Wayne and the rest of Hellfire. That’s what matters.

The world would be a better place if we were all a little more like Eddie Munson. And music would be better.

And if Hawkins is really getting introduced to Upside Down monsters and whatnot, there’s still hope for Eddie to get the recognition he deserves… fingers crossed. 

——

I was expecting the body count to be higher… thought Argyle might have to go to give Jonathan and Nancy some more shared trauma. Or Dmitri would die with his son thinking he was a traitor or maybe Murray would volunteer to be a decoy or something. But I’m glad they kept it lower. I think— especially in this show— it’s more effective to have only one really heartbreaking death at a time rather than a slew of moderately sad ones. 

———

Once again: Max. Lucas. Lumax. 😭 I’ve been trash for these two since day one but this season went above and beyond a billion times over. 

Lucas asking Max if he was in her happiest memory. And the season two throwback. “Presumptuous.”

Widdle Max at the skate park was too cute for words!

Max’s selfless bravery while Lucas tried so hard to come up with an alternative.

Passing notes. The movie date drawing.  The scene. You know what I’m talking about. All the awards for Sadie and Caleb. All. Of. Them.

The parallel to season 1 with Sarah dying and Hopper reviving Will with Eddie dying and El reviving  Max while When It’s Cold played. BRB once I salvage my heart after it went through this cheese grater.

Like with Joyce and Hopper, Lucas and Max have a date they need to get to. Surely a good sign.

—-—-

Music in general was especially great in these last two episodes. Separate Ways!  Erica, Lucas, and Max stepping off the RV with each “you” in the song was so good. The versions of Dream a Little Dream of Me at the Snow Ball will haunt me forever. Running Up That Hill was incredible once again. I love that it was originally Max centered but it extended to the rest of the characters. 

It’s a perfect foil to Vecna— his army is all one because they’re his puppets, while our heroes are one unit because they love each other and care about others.  

——

Steve 

Him wanting a big family to go on road trips with. 🥹  He’s really the only one without any siblings besides Dustin (who has a very loving mother plus several pets). I’ve long headcanoned Steve as a lonely-ish latchkey kid and finding out that he grew up wanting a bunch of little ones someday hit me right in the feels. 

His friendship with Robin has somehow reached new heights of adorable. The way he was just so happy for her and Vickie... Precious. 

Glad he’s rabies/infection free and his face was spared for once.

——

Robin’s character was a little wobbly for me this season but at the end of the day, I was happy. I loved her talk with Steve; I’d been missing their friendship after 4x02. Her hand on his back after Jonathan and Nancy reunited was subtle but so sweet. Robin and Vickie were very cute together. Plus, their ship name is Rockie (edited, eff you autocorrect). How awesome is that?? 

—-

A proper Will/Jonathan/Joyce hug. I always felt like there’s a rule somewhere that only two Byers are allowed to be emotional together at a time and it’s been a huge pet peeve of mine.

—-

Will!! I thought I heard somewhere that he filmed a scene with a harness so I was worried Vecna would try something. Glad he got a (at least supernatural) break this season.

His speech to Mike and the painting. Maybe a little cheesy but in a good, very ‘80s movie way. 

His love for El. That hug was exactly what I needed between the two of them. 

I know how badly this situation hurts him and I’m so proud of him for how he’s handling it. Plenty of grown-ass adults could learn a thing or two from Will. 

———

Jonathan back in Big Bro mode.  That scene was so sweet. I really like that Jonathan didn’t push Will to share or try to pry. Just said exactly what Will needed to hear. 

———

Speaking of siblings, Erica and Lucas were so adorable. The spear scene. The way she tried to save him from Jason even though she’s tiny and middle schooly. How she won’t leave his side at the hospital. 

———

Mike and El. My emotions. The pizza box goggles/ “try before you deny bit” was so cute. I had high expectations for his first “I love you” and damn, did they deliver. 

———-

El and Hopper reuniting. It really got to me. But my grandfather passed away almost a year ago, so when I watched it again with my mom, we both lost it ( but in a really good way)

———

Murray with that flamethrower was badass as fuck and kinda hilarious at the same time. I loved it.

———-

I think they did a great job balancing the darker stuff with comic relief in these last two episodes. Some of it felt forced earlier in the season to me. 

——

Joyce and Hopper finally kissed! 🎉 

Breadsticks and lasagna! 

—-

It wasn’t quite what I wanted, but overall, I’d say I like what they did with Brenner. They humanized him enough to make him interesting but they didn’t try to brush all his shit under the rug. It was a good mix of El caring about him— and in a way that said more about El than him— but not forgiving him or excusing him either. 

———-

Dmitri and Yuri’s scene was unexpected and really nice. I saw a few people saying it was too easy but c’mon. This wasn’t “hey, you remember what it’s like to be good. So stop being a dick.” It was “holy shit, literal monsters are going to literally EAT! US! ALL! This so not the time to be a douche.”

———-

Jason was… interesting. I guess I like that that he didn’t totally fall into the usual tropes. He was neither entirely “well meaning but misguided” or purely “he who hunts monsters...” When he went full asshole on Nancy, I thought he was totally over the edge. But then he seemed genuinely concerned for Max. I liked seeing that bit of humanity still there, even though he ultimately couldn’t reach into it enough to see the light. While horrific, I like the way his death symbolized the way he’d been torn apart by Upside Down-ness.  

His death made me realize I have an inner momma bear. I had felt very bad for him— his girlfriend and one of his besties died in such horrible, unholy ways. That’d mess anyone up. But once I got over the shock of how he died, I was just kinda like, “Yeah, let that be a lesson to anyone who lays a hand on my babies.” 

——-

I really liked having a brief break between episodes. I think Eddie struck more of a chord with me than Barb, Bob, and Alexei because I got to know him for longer than a day or two. 

———-

Doctor Owens. First of all: What a BAMF. Standing up to Brenner for El, trying to protect her from Sullivan. I really like that he strives to balance his teleological, “greater good” mindset with sensitivity and consideration.  He wants El to be his teammate rather than a mere means to an end— a lab rat or a weapon.

———

The Mind Flayer. Yessss. I got chills and said holy shit out loud when young Henry drew it.

———

Flambé. And Nancy blowing Vecna out the window. Epic.

———-

Sometimes, you gotta wholeheartedly embrace the tropes outright. And Hopper literally slaying the monster with a sword was fantastic.

———-

Karen telling Mike he couldn’t have any more vacations or go to college. Haha.

———-

Jonathan and Nancy’s reunion. Still not happy about all the messiness but “kiss on the forehead” is my favorite. 🥰

——-

Mike and Hopper being on good terms again. 

———

Are Hopper and Joyce and the kids just gonna live off the grid at the cabin? I’m super excited if that means they stay in Hawkins again. 

———

Shout out to Jamie Campbell Bower to his commitment to Vecna; spending hours getting covered in prosthetics and locating whatever depths of hell he pulled his Vecna voice out of. It adds so much to the character that we can see Henry/One in Vecna’s eyes and body language.

———

I don’t usually like when “all hell breaks loose” and the secret stuff gets out in the open. However, I think this show can pull it off… 

——-

I feel a little more confident that this show isn’t actually going to hurl itself down the fan service cliff. 😅

The Bad

This really isn’t anyone’s fault but one reason why I love Steve so much is because he reminds me sooo much of my brother. However, in the last couple of years, Joe Keery at certain angles (especially his eyes) has started to remind me of my husband. Steve’s battle clothes were a lot closer to my husband’s style than Steve’s usual outfits which REALLY amplified it.  So yeah, shit got distractingly weird for me a few times and I definitely could have lived the rest of my life without knowing what it’d look like if my husband and brother had a Freaky Friday thing. Haha.

———

I REALLY wanna know what the hell exactly has Mike told his parents about El. Is it some version of the “official” story? That Hopper had an affair when he was married and El is his daughter and she was visiting him in secret when Mike stumbled on her in the woods and fell hopelessly in love with her? Something else? Have his parents met El? Why is this curiosity door to potential comedic gold still closed? Picture El and Ted having a blank faced staring contest.

That reminds me… No cameo from Mr. Clark. 🙁

——-

Is Doctor Owens okay??? Is he still handcuffed to a pole in the desert?

———

Um, I don’t like how blatantly cliffhangery the ending is. There has always been an unsettling element to the endings but there was enough peace/closure that the hiatuses were more bearable. We’re looking at fall of ‘23 at the most outrageously optimistic earliest and I dunno… just feels a bit shitty. It’s not like they needed to fish for renewal…

———

Definitely sad we didn’t see a Hopper/Byers family group hug. I also wanted El to call Hopper “dad.”

———-

Eddie’s death did feel a little stand-in-ish for Steve. I don’t know if they were just piggybacking (see what I did there?) on his bond with Dustin or if they were just trolling, or if it’s a hint that maybe they did wanna kill him off and Netflix said no. Well, just in case, I’d like to thank all the millions of people who’ve canceled their Netflix subscriptions in the last couple of years. You might have saved Steve.

———-

I have a lot of feelings about the state Max is left in. I mean, I really, really don’t want this show to get too dark and given the way her journey has been a metaphor for depression, I feel like it’s extremely fucked up— borderline irresponsible— if she doesn’t come back from this. And I am fairly confident that she and Lucas will have their movie night. But I also feel like if they’re going to prolong the ambiguity of her fate in this way, there should be some kind of long term  consequences?   

——-

It felt kinda lazy not to have more downtime between the earthquake and the shit storm. A convenient way to avoid Nancy and Jonathan having a good talk and Max’s prognosis for sure. 

The Ugly The Absolute Shit-Hideous

Same song as part one but different verse:

Why, oh, why are they prolonging this bullshit love triangle? Yes, there was a recurring theme of mirroring season one and it could have been decent-ish. But this was just crap. Incredibly lazy, contrived crap. I’m torn between thinking they really do need to fix it next season and hoping that the (from what I can tell) generally negative reception will make them drop it.

Having Steve confess his feelings started to tip me into despair— he hadn’t really done anything “wrong” this season in that regard until that moment. But then just as quickly, I started seeing light at the end of the tunnel:

Robin interrupted S/N having a moment with “looks like we weren’t going the wrong way after all” 

Nancy donating yet more old things from her pre-Upside Down life… including Mr. Rabbit who’ll “be more loved in a new home.” My mom and I affectionately call Steve “harebrain” sometimes (both for “hair” and because Hare-rington) so that rabbity connection jumped out at us.

Then the way she looked at Jonathan when he reappeared. Like Steve didn’t even exist anymore. Which Steve definitely noticed and was pretty damn brutal. Are we really supposed to pretend that anyone thinks that kinda thing is shippable?   **Or that Nancy could be happy with a small army of children and most likely no career??? Or how clearly Steve wants someone to laugh at dumb muppet jokes with him (and Robin and Vickie.) I don’t see Nancy completing that adorkable foursome any more than I see her signing up for more than one or two babies. 

After Robin and Vickie had their moment, I kept waiting for one of Vickie’s friends to appear next to Steve and throw out there that she’s glad Vickie and Dan broke up because he always reminded her of Big Bird or something but nooo. Then they had to have Jonathan and Nancy once again avoid their problems.

All three of them traumatized as hell, plus we really only see them in life or death situations and that is the only reason I can give them a pass. In normal circumstances, they’d be kinda assholey.

I get that writing established couples sucks but there are so many more original paths to take. I also get that executive meddling is a thing and maybe they’re the ones pushing this crap. But in that case, you take pride in your work and respect your audience and your characters and you at least strive to make it understandable/believable. You do not do… this. 

The worst part about this whole storyline is that it doesn’t feel like they even care enough about it to waste even the slightest bit of brain power on it.

Like, why couldn’t Jonathan and Nancy have agreed at Christmas to “hit pause” and then reevaluate when they reunited at spring break? It would have made way more sense that Jonathan going MIA freaked her out so much. 

Or at the very least, couldn’t Steve and Nancy have a scene together before the trailer park so this shit didn’t feel so out of left field? She could have run into him while he was picking Robin up from school. Steve could have asked about Jonathan and Nancy could have admitted that things were rocky and Steve coulda told her how if she can help him learn to “crawl forward,” she can surely help Jonathan fly.  Or she could have opened up about how afraid she is to leave home next year.

Something.

Instead, they  just took advantage of the fact that Jonathan’s life was really painful even before/without monsters and hell dimensions, Nancy has a history of bottling things up until she bursts, and Steve has a fantastic “puppy that’s just been kicked” expression.

It also seemed like they knew it was kinda icky for Nancy to have all these moments with Steve so they tried too hard to make her perfect in every other way, and it frequently came at the expense of other characters (especially Robin becoming a “super klutz” after an entire season of playing it cool).

 Ah, fuck it, I’ll just come right out with it: Lucas should have been the one Vecna chose to deliver the message to El. For multiple reasons: revenge for taking Max back from the curse, he’s not only closer to El than Nancy is, it highlights how much their friendship has grown since the initial strained days in season one; it’s so fitting with Running Up that Hill and asking God to trade places with someone else in order to better understand them. 😭😭 

TL;DR

I mostly loved it. This is by far the most emotional experience I’ve had with Stranger Things, and in fact, any show in a good two or three years. There were a few surprises and most of them were pleasant ones. They’ve continued with their trend of taking familiar tropes and adding unique twists.  But I dislike how much they left unresolved before a very long hiatus. Also, love triangles are still garbage, especially when they crap all over multiple characters and eat up screen time that could have gone to more interesting possibilities.

[dianapana]

SH Day 13- Dating Apps AU

Something a bit shorter today, ngl i'm very tired, today was a long rough day, but I still don't really wanna miss a day if I can help it. I'm unsure however if i'll be able to post tomorrow and Sunday due to family stuff, but we shall see. ~Love, Dia

Rated T, Modern AU, OOC

@sasuhinamonth

She’s the kind of person that brings her laptop to my bar for free wi-fi while wearing sweat pants despite it being the weekend and super crowded. The kind of person that brings her own sandwich and hot tea, rather than order them from me. I’ve never seen her with her hair down or any make-up on unless she had a date, and no matter what she brought her dates to my bar because I was her safety net. All she had to do was order a rum and coke and I’d make the date disappear.

Hinata appeared out of thin air one day a few months ago. In the beginning, I just thought she was another pretty face in the crowd. I took a liking to her early on and figured she’d be another girl in whose pants I’ll get when I’m bored, maybe something with a bit more duration like a friends-with-benefits sort of situation. But that never happened, because even when we were talking there was always a wall between us, her eyes were most of the time glued to her laptop. It used to annoy me but I’ve grown used to it.

I wouldn’t have minded had she been a workaholic, but she uses her laptop for dating sites, always looking for someone. Her dates never go well no matter how hard she looked. More often than not the guys look nothing like their pictures, or most of their pictures were groups and it was ini mini miny moe between which of the dudes she was actually talking to. Other times they look like the picture but act nothing like they did online, in text they were nice and considerate and in reality, they are rude and close-minded.

“Why is it so hard to find a decent guy?”

She always whines to me, while sipping tea from her pink mug, I’ve moved past explaining to her that this was a café, that she should order her drinks and food here rather than bring them. I think about her question and wonder if I enter her category of ‘decent guys’ I wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t really make the cut, just like I’ve seen her billion dates she too was there to witness a few hook-ups, a few girls slapping me, and even me dumping girls whose names I had forgotten.

“Maybe you’re not looking in the right place”

“Right…What online dating site do you use Sasuke?”

We help eye contact for a moment and then both of us rolled our eyes. I knew she was joking; I have never used a dating app or site or anything and in my opinion, maybe she’d be a little luckier if she looked around herself in real life, of course when I say this, I mean myself. I’d be lying if I said her constant rejection didn’t intrigue me, but that’s not the only thing that somehow pulls me towards her. I find her day-to-day attire charming, her endless search for love a little idealistic. I got so used to seeing her every day that whenever it is past 1 p.m. and she isn’t here in her pj pants sitting on one of the stools I worry. Hinata actually lives in the building right next door so I often go and check on her. I also found the reason why she comes to the café, her apartment building has no wifi, according to her and most young people that’s a crime, but the price is only half of what she’d pay anywhere else in Konoha so, some sacrifices need to be made.

“Do you think I should stop looking for a while?”

She asks that after each disastrous date. If I’m being honest the more time passes the less I enjoy seeing her waltz around looking all dolled up, holding onto the arm of some random guy that by the end of the night turns out to be a creep. Usually, I answer her question by quoting some random rom-coms that she watches whenever she’s not updating her profiles on dating sites. But today something’s different, her laptop is absent, and her hair is down, but the mug and pj pants were present as usual. It’s a strange combination of both versions of her that I know. The lack of laptop tells me she has made up her mind to take a break, which I am happy about, but she needs some validation that her choice is correct so I say. “Maybe”

Hinata replies with a nod. She looks oddly out of place without typing and staring at the screen. It seems like she doesn’t know what to do with her hands or where to let her eye wander. I know I might regret my net words but I say them nonetheless.

“Maybe it’s time you rise your head from that screen and actually look around, maybe you’ll find someone to your liking” I of course secretly hope that person will be me. Her eyes move and she looks straight at my face for what feels like the first time. I know that’s not a fact but something in her gaze looks different today so I offer her one of my famous smirks. My eyes almost pop out of my head when she slightly blushes, I want to poke fun at her ask her if she finally came around to the idea of me, but that would ruin things. I need to be more than a date.

[onlydylanobrien]

Dylan O'Brien - NME Magazine Interview

Dylan O’Brien: “I was in this transitional phase – close to a quarter-life crisis”

From YA heartthrob to legitimate leading man – how the 'Maze Runner' star hit his stride after a whirlwind decade

Definitely!” hoots Dylan O’Brien when NME asks if he still has to audition. “I’m not Tom fucking Hanks, bro.” He’s clearly amused by our question, but forgive us for thinking the 29-year-old actor gets cast on reputation alone. A decade into his career, and he’s making an impressive transition from teen TV star and YA franchise hero to charismatic leading man.

New York-born O’Brien cut his teeth on MTV’s hit Teen Wolf series, before landing the lead in the Maze Runner film trilogy based on James Dashner’s hugely popular novels. Leading a band of bright young things that included ex-Skins tearaway Kaya Scodelario, Game Of Thrones’ Thomas Brodie-Sangster and Will Poulter, he honed his craft while racking up nearly a billion dollars at the box office. “My career is a constant acting class,” says O’Brien. “To be able to do the Maze Runner movies simultaneously with Teen Wolf was amazing in terms of getting in reps and working my [acting] muscle.”

Now for the sometimes tricky bit. Many actors struggle with the post-breakout period, but O’Brien is making it look easy so far. This year’s Netflix hit Love and Monsters proved he can carry an old-school family adventure, and new film Flashback (out next week) reveals an appetite for weirder, more cerebral work. He stars as Fred Fitzell, a young man reluctant to buckle down to life as a nine-to-fiver with a boring corporate job and a long-term girlfriend (Mindhunter‘s Hannah Gross). When he runs into a freaky-looking acquaintance from his teenage years, Fred becomes obsessed with finding an old high-school friend he used to drop a mind-bending experimental drug called Mercury with. It’s difficult to say any more without entering spoiler territory, but Flashback is a wild ride underpinned by the idea that we can exist in several realities at once. Even if you follow every plot twist, you might not fully understand the end. “Oh, it’s definitely a headfuck,” O’Brien agrees. “There’s not totally an answer to figure out. There’s a lot of different things that people can take from it.”

Speaking over Zoom from his LA home, O’Brien is bright, thoughtful and really good fun to talk to, especially when he relaxes into the interview, but he clearly knows where his line between public and private lies. When he first read the Flashback script, written by the film’s director Christopher MacBride, his “mind was blown” by just how much he related to Fred. “I felt like I was in this transitional phase of my life that was, you know, sort of close to a quarter-life crisis type thing,” he says. “For whatever reason, it was like me and this script were meant to be. I remember reading it and thinking: ‘I am this guy right now.'”

“There were a lot of things in my personal life that were neglected for a while”

When we ask why O’Brien felt as though he had reached a “transitional phase”, he gives an answer that’s vague but not exactly evasive. For understandable reasons, he doesn’t mention the incredibly traumatic motorcycle accident he sustained while shooting the final Maze Runner film in March 2016. O’Brien suffered severe trauma to the brain and said in 2017 that he underwent extensive facial reconstructive surgery after the accident “broke most of the right side of my face”. Tellingly, he’s never really revealed what happened on set or how it affected him.

Today, O’Brien dances around the details of the accident and other issues he was dealing with at the time, but doesn’t shy away from discussing his inner conflict. “You know, it was a lot of personal things combined with at-a-point-in-my-career things,” he says after a brief pause. He says he’d have been going through some of this stuff anyway, simply because of his age, but it sounds as though success intensified it all. “It was like this whole fucking storm of shit,” he continues. “I was simultaneously so fulfilled and happy about these, like, otherworldly and surreal things that I had experienced in terms of where my career had brought me. I had all this confidence and fulfilment and beautiful people [in my life] – such amazing things to experience at a young age. But at the same time, there were a lot of things in my personal life that were unchecked and sort of neglected for a while.”

O’Brien says that in time, he realised he had to “stop for a second” and “re-explore how I wanted my life to look going forward”. In fairness, you can see why he needed a breather: his career took off while he was still a teenager. After his family moved from New Jersey to Los Angeles County when he was 12, O’Brien contemplated a career as a sports broadcaster – his Twitter bio still bills him as a “no longer suffering Mets fan” – then began posting YouTube videos as moviekidd826. A funny, slickly edited skit titled ‘How to Prepare for the SAT in 45 seconds’, shared when he was just 17, shows he was a born performer and storyteller. YouTube success led to him getting a manager, but his breakthrough role in Teen Wolf still came out of the blue. At the time, he was treading water at a local community college and taking auditions on the side.

Still, he has since taken a rather fatalistic view of this career-making moment. “It’s totally weird because, when I think about it now, I don’t see how it could have happened any other way. I can’t picture myself doing anything else now,” he told Collider in 2011. “It was really sudden and a little random, and not provoked by anything. It was just out of nowhere. It wasn’t my intentional doing.” Today, O’Brien summarises his skyscraper career trajectory succinctly. “I guess I just graduated high school and started acting,” he says. “And then I felt like I was just flying by the seat of my pants and never got a chance to stop.” Thankfully, straight-out-the-blocks Hollywood success hasn’t taken away his sense of perspective. When I say how easy social media makes it to compare yourself unfavourably to others, O’Brien jumps in: “Yeah, that’s very true. I was watching the Billie Eilish doc the other day, and I was like, I’ve done nothing. I’m not an artist at all!”

“No one thought ‘Love and Monsters’ was going to be good!”

O’Brien is also self-deprecating when he talks about being cast in Flashback, suggesting it happened because he had such an intense connection with Fred. “I was honestly like, ‘Who is watching me right now?’ That is the best way I can describe how I was feeling when I came across this script,” he says. “Chris [MacBride, director] and I had this conversation that went so well in terms of [my] understanding this script that I think he’d sent around a lot and [that] very commonly wasn’t understood. I think Chris has even said that the night before shooting, he suddenly had this thought, like, ‘Wait, do I even think he’s a good actor?'”

Though O’Brien has firmly ring-fenced elements of his private life, he’s actually pretty frank about his acting vehicles. He readily admits he was expecting a snobbish response to Love and Monsters, a CGI-heavy hybrid of post-apocalyptic action and romcom that dropped on Netflix in April and topped the streamer’s daily most-watched list. “It means so much that Love and Monsters has gotten the response that it’s gotten,” O’Brien says. “No one thought this movie was going to be good.” His blunt honesty makes me laugh out loud. “No one did though!” he says in response. “And so, fuck that. You know, most of the people who say something to me about the movie, they’re like: ‘I watched Love and Monsters, and it was… good?’ And honestly, that just cracks me up.” For obvious reasons, we hastily decide not to share our response to the film – namely, that it was a whole lot better than expected.

In Love and Monsters, O’Brien plays Joel, a survivor of a so-called “monsterpocalypse” that has bumped humans to the bottom of the food chain. Though he’s known in his colony as a bit of a coward, Joel sets off on a treacherous 80-mile journey to find his high school sweetheart Aimee (Iron Fist‘s Jessica Henwick), which means evading the hungry clutches of various supersize grizzlies including a giant monster-frog hiding in a suburban pond. It’s a simple but pretty out-there premise that wouldn’t work if O’Brien’s performance was even slightly condescending. Instead, his unselfconscious sincerity really sells a film that has as much in common with the family-oriented Robin Williams movie Night at the Museum as darker fare like The Walking Dead.

His obvious affection for the project really comes across during our interview today. “When I read the script, I just thought it was so sweet and funny and smart and unique, but at the same time reminiscent of all these movies that don’t really get made any more,” he says. That’s a fair point: Love and Monsters is neither a fail-safe superhero movie nor a slice of classy Oscar bait. “And when they were talking about how to market this movie, it was so funny hearing all these conversations like, ‘How do we actually get people to watch it?'” he adds. “But that’s a big part of the reason I wanted to do this movie: because it felt like something I missed seeing.”

“I’m lucky to be surrounded by people who want to make something out of love”

So in a way, Love and Monsters was a risk for an actor seeking to establish himself outside of a bankable movie franchise and a hit TV show. O’Brien has only made four films since his final Maze Runner outing in 2018, and insists he hasn’t been tactical with his choices. “I don’t have anyone saying, ‘We need to get you in an Oscar vehicle’, or any of that kind of shit,” he says. “I’m really lucky to be surrounded by people who think like me: that you should do what you’re drawn to, and make something out of love.”

He’s recently finished shooting a mysterious crime thriller called The Outfit in London with Mark Rylance. Directed and co-written by Graham Moore, who won an Oscar for his screenplay to Alan Turing biopic The Imitation Game, O’Brien calls it “quite possibly one of the most special pieces of writing I’ve ever experienced”. He first read the script on a plane and says he “actually stood up and clapped” when he got to the end. Considering O’Brien probably wasn’t flying Ryanair, this reaction presumably attracted a few baffled glances.

Anyway, it must be pretty intimidating walking onto set with Rylance, a multi-award-winning actor revered by his peers – Al Pacino once said he “speaks Shakespeare as if it was written for him the night before” – but it sounds as though O’Brien took it all in stride. He says he’s confident in his abilities, but admits to having a slight wobble whenever he begins a new project. “I’m always sort of re-questioning everything – like, ‘Can I even act?'” he says. “But I think there’s something very natural about that. I think even Rylance could relate to that feeling. Acting is like starting a new year at school every single time.”

At this point in his career, O’Brien has made peace with the fact that some people will have preconceptions about him based on what he’s known for: Maze Runner and Teen Wolf. “People will put you in a box no matter what,” he says. “There was definitely a time when that would get to me, especially when it felt like somebody had a perspective on me that in my soul, I just felt wasn’t accurate.” Still, there’s no doubt he wants to show us what’s really in his soul with more films like Flashback. “If anything,” he adds bullishly, “it just makes me think: ‘Right, I’m really gonna show them now’.”

‘Flashback’ is out on digital platforms from June 4

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

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

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

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

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

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

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

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

Christmas Eve:

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

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

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

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

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

March: the arrival,

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

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

You rolled your eyes. “Ransom—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He crossed his arms over his chest.

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

“Are you only with me for sex?”

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

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

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

“No, I’m putting my foot down.”

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

“Too,” he repeated firmly. “Too!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That is exactly what I want to hear.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell are you doing?”

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

“May I ask what for?”

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

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

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

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

“Ransom!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He abruptly threw you up over his shoulder.

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

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

“You’re such an ass! I have to—”

He silenced you by pulling off his T-shirt.

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

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

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

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

“You are not serious.”

“I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snorted. “You have money?”

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

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

He sighed. “Y/N, suck my cock.”

You shrugged. “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re right, I don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head. “I don’t.”

“I’m not joking.”

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

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

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

He smirked. “I understand.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ride me,” he ordered.

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

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

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

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

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

“Say what?” you choked out.

“You know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed. “Ransom, please—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning,” he said softly.

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

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

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

He shrugged his shoulder. “Does it matter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled a little.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded. “I promise, I will not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, guys,” you greeted.

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

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

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

“He’s in the kitchen,” Joni informed.

“Great, we can head that way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You lifted your eyebrows at Ransom.

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

You turned to her. “Are you—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Meg, can we have a minute?”

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

“Um,” she started, shifting awkwardly.

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

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

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

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

“Don’t touch me.”

“Hey—”

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

“She’s my mom—”

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

“That’s not why I had sex with you—”

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

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

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

“I didn’t lie—”

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

“Okay. Yeah, I’ll go to the store.”

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

“Can we talk about this later?”

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

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

April: the parents’ bedroom,

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

Not the case.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it, Ransom?”

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

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

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

“Just a headache. Not a big deal.”

“Not trying to be an ass—”

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

“I told you this was a bad idea.”

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

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

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

“I don’t want to talk much either.”

You narrowed your eyes.

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

You hummed. “Sex? Why? Are you trying to distract me again? Were you hoping I wouldn’t notice your inability to wake up at a reasonable hour for me, but how willing you seem to wake up at 5 in the morning to have coffee with your mommy?”

“I wasn’t asleep,” he insisted. “And she heard me come downstairs.”

“Yes, great cover. So convincing.”

“I do not wake up to have coffee with her every morning. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

You lifted your eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He glared. “It’s because I hate sleeping without you.”

“You made me sleep without you—!”

“That was not what you think!”

You narrowed your eyes. “It wasn’t a temper tantrum over the vibrator?”

“No, okay, stop. We’re not going back, okay? No talk about the past, we need to talk about now. You’re the one that made me promise that I wouldn’t withhold sex—”

“I’m not withholding sex, Ransom, I just have no desire to be around you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Doubt that.”

“If you’re having issues sleeping, maybe you should ask your mommy to read you a bedtime story and—”

He pressed his hand over your mouth and started dragging you across the room.

Immediately, you started screaming at him. What the fuck? And you continued to do this until you realized he was leading you to Richard and Linda’s room. Eww, if you didn’t want to talk to him, you certainly didn’t want to talk to her.

But despite your struggling, he forced you into the room and slammed the door before you could escape.

“What the hell?” you demanded.

“This fight is over.”

“No, it’s not!”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous because I care about you? I’m done, I can’t do this anymore. My parents want me to stay with them and I think I should—”

His eyes widened at you. “This is your god damn house—”

“You clearly don’t think so! I had one condition, just one fucking condition. I wanted her to apologize for trying to physically assault you and somehow that makes me the villain in this situation?”

“That’s not what I’m saying—”

“You went behind my back, Ransom.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

Wow, was that an actual apology? It didn’t matter. One apology a month later was too small. “Look, it’s too late, okay? I’m exhausted and I just want to go home—”

“This is your fucking home!”

“No, it’s your mother’s fucking home and it always will be if you let her do whatever the fuck she wants!”

“She apologized!”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed.

He reached into his pants and yanked out his phone. Easily, he found one of the last texts that they had exchanged and turned it to you.

Don’t tell your psycho, fragile girlfriend but I am sorry. I shouldn’t have acted the way that I did. I understand that it was out of line, it will not happen again. Can we come over? You know I don’t want to be alone with your father.

It took three seconds to go from partially angry to very, absolutely, completely outraged. You smacked the phone out of his hand and it clattered to the hardwood floor. “I’m going to fucking kill you, Ransom!”

He threw his arms up. “For what?!”

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me this earlier?!”

“She would have known that I told you.”

“And?!”

“And,” he began, “I…don’t really know what I thought would happen.”

You shoved at his chest and he didn’t even have the energy to step back simply to make you feel better. He didn’t move an inch because you shoving him was like a cat trying to push a lion. “You are such a fucking mommy’s boy! I’m done with this whole thing, I’m done with you!”

“No, you’re not!”

“Yes, I am! You can’t make me stay here, you can’t make me—”

“You love me!”

Your eyes widened. He made you tell him you loved him, never said it back, and now he was using it against you? “You are dead! Do you understand me?! I’m going to run you over with your fucking Beemer! Then I’m going to get a new boyfriend and I’m going to let him fuck me in that stupid fucking car!”

He grabbed a handful of your hair and your hands flew back to scratch at his forearm. He shoved you back onto the bed and made the mistake of rolling over to attempt to get away from him. He grabbed both of your wrists and managed to get them into one of his hands, then yanked down your yoga pants.

“You are tearing them, you ass!”

And then he smacked your bare skin hard enough that it echoed, loud enough that you were sure anyone in the kitchen could have heard it. Your entire body burned with humiliation, but you loved the pain. How had you survived so long without him doing this?

“Shut the fuck up,” he ordered.

“Are you seriously trying to fuck me in your parents’ room?” you snapped.

“No, I am going to fuck you in my parents’ room,” he corrected. “What? You’re not into this anymore? This wouldn’t be the first time.”

“They sleep here,” you reminded. “This is weird given your obsession with her.”

“I changed the sheets this morning.”

“Are you fucking serious? You’re her maid now?”

He smacked you again and you pressed your face down to muffle your scream. “No, I just always knew that I was going to fuck you here today.”

You waited until the pain subsided before you turned your face, Ransom was still working the yoga pants down, a task that seemed impossible with only one hand. “Where were you today?”

“I had a meeting.”

“With whom?”

“None of your business.”

“Yes, it is my business, you fucking dick! If you’re not going to let me go home—”

He spanked you again, harder now, it seemed like an angry action, not just a retaliating one. “You are home, this is your fucking home and if you suggest otherwise again, I fucking swear—”

“What?” you demanded. “You’re going to tattle to your mommy?”

“I should fucking strangle you,” he growled, and before you could say anything, his hand was at your pussy. He scoffed. “You are seriously this wet? You have so many fucking issues.”

“One issue,” you argued. “You.” But that was a lie and he was more than right. You could hear him moving his pants out of his way and you were nearly shaking with the need to feel him.

Abruptly, he shoved his cock inside you and you both moaned as you adjusted around him. It was loud, obscenely loud, there was no question about what you two were doing, and you honestly didn’t care anymore. Had he gotten bigger? No, that wasn’t possible. You were pretty sure it wasn’t.

You felt him moving to tear off his coat. “Don’t you dare throw that coat on this floor, Ransom.”

But he did and he did it so eagerly, like he wanted to irritate you. The floors were hardwood, Linda had her dogs in the home, and their fur got everywhere on Ransom’s clothes. He hated you, you hated it because he just threw things away—didn’t even donate them because he’s such a beast.

Next, you felt his scarf around your wrists and started struggling.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Shut up,” he snarled.  “You’re lucky I’m not fucking gagging you.”

As his hips began rocking just slightly, he grabbed your jaw and turned your head back. His lips found yours immediately and while you two were sharing a sloppy, unskilled kiss, he began driving his hips into you as hard as he knew you needed him to.

His skin was slapping against yours noisily, the bed was creaking, moving on those extra hard thrusts. He spread your legs out as wide as he could and held them there, fingers digging painfully into your skin.

Things became very clear to Ransom at that moment. You were underneath him, completely at his mercy since you were bound now. You were pouting, pretending that you didn’t like this, and he wanted to fuck that disobedience out of you. He sat back up, holding your hips as he kept steadily moving in and out of you. “I’m going to fuck your ass.”

You blinked once, twice. “What?”

He never pulled out, but he did lean over and start yanking on the drawers of one of the bedside tables.

“What are you doing?” No, he wasn’t going to actually…fuck you there. He’d never done it, he’d never even asked about it even though you brought it up a few times. He’d located your plugs that one time, he knew you were into it. But nothing. Why now?

“I know he has to have something,” he insisted.

“I don’t want to think about your parents like that.”

“Oh, no, just think of my dad like that,” he joked.

You shook your head. “Eww.”

“Oh, eww?” he checked. “Since when? You realize you can never talk about fucking him again, right? Looks like you’re going to have to provoke me in other ways now.”

“I didn’t mean ‘eww’ like that,” you claimed, “I meant ‘eww’ that your mom isn’t fucking him, and I definitely should be, because he totally deserves it for being such a great husband and father, but sadly, I’m here with you instead.”

“You’re such a fucking brat and—got it.” Ransom rarely moved fast, preferring to act like the cocky ass that he was, making it clear that he had all the time in the world to do whatever the hell he wanted. Because you were never going to say no. But now, he was acting like he was in a race.

Your body tensed up as soon as you felt the sharp cold against your skin. Ransom took his fingers and spread the gel over your skin, you gasped when you felt one of his fingers teasing your hole.

He did this a few more times, just making sure that you were properly prepped before his first finger dipped inside you. He set his free hand to your back when you tensed. “Relax,” he ordered. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you assured. You’d done this in the past, liked it, but it had been a long time since.

He started pumping his finger in and out and you began to squirm. You were trying to stay still and quiet, trying to hide how good he was making you feel, but he knew. When you pressed your hips back, he added his second finger and you winced.

His fingers already had you feeling so full. That was what you loved most about being with Ransom, you felt almost incomplete whenever he wasn’t in you. Your body was made to take his, to mold to him completely.

“Here’s how this is gonna go, baby,” he began. “You’re going to start sleeping in our bedroom again. Because I am the only man on this planet who can touch you like this and you’re going to stop being such a brat and taking that for granted.”

You scoffed. You were taking him for granted? Of course, every day you didn’t wake up on your knees for him was probably ‘taking him for granted’.

“Yes?”

You nodded, cheek pressed to the mattress. You didn’t care about winning anymore, you needed to be fucked. You lifted your head to look back at him. “Yeah.”

He pushed his third finger as slowly as he could.

You kept your attention on him, watching as his fingers disappeared inside your ass. As he moved his fingers back and forth, he started to tilt his hips. You were hyperaware of everything, you knew where his cock and fingers were, the wall between your two entrances was thin enough that you could feel it all.

He always thought of you as an insatiable, greedy little thing but even he was surprised when you said you wanted more. You wanted his cock, not his fingers, and he figured you were ready for it because you were soaking his length and the sheets.

As he positioned himself over you again, he pulled his cock out of your pussy and you whimpered. He brought his cock up and spread the fingers inside your asshole to open you up for him. You had never experienced Ransom gentler than when he pressed just the tip of his cock into you. You observed in awe, mouth dropped, panting, desperate, soaking. You knew when you were going to feel him, but you were not prepared at all. His cock was bigger than any plug you had used and you were aching.

He groaned when his fingers were out and all that he could feel was you squeezing the hell out of him. “Fuck. Think you can get on your knees for me?”

You nodded but made no moves to do so. He did instead, lifting your hips, and then grabbing your upper arms to keep you there. You pressed your hips down, swallowing more of his cock, whining and moaning at the painful stretch of him.

“Fuck yourself,” he told you.

You were shuddering, body screaming at the uncomfortable angles you were moving. You pushed your hips up until you felt the head of his cock and settled back down until it felt like it was too much, over and over until he knew that your muscles weren’t capable of continuing.

“Almost there,” he promised, lips at your ear. “Almost taking all of my cock, baby.” He let his hands slide down a little, toward your elbows for leverage, and then he started thrusting. He was careful not to go too deep, listening to the sounds you made because words were not your strong point when he was inside you.

You leaned over a bit, unable to hold yourself up completely. You were hovering over the pillows, his hold on you tight enough that you weren’t worried about falling forward. You were practically choking on a scream when one of his hands moved around you to your clit, immediately feeling lightheaded.

You folded over more and Ransom released your arm to grab your hair. Since you weren’t strong enough to hold yourself up completely, he was yanking on the roots of your hair. Your thighs were quivering because you were using them as your only source of balance, and all of that distracted from the painful stretch of his cock driving into you more and more each time.

Your pleasure was slowly climbing. By the time you were coming, your pussy was dripping onto the sheets, you were sweating, shuddering, gasping for air that you couldn’t seem to get enough of.

And he was only halfway inside you. He shoved two fingers into your cunt and used his grip on your hair to shove your face down on the mattress. All his weight pressed down on you until you were flat on the bed, trapping his arm between you and the mattress.

He left you with some space to work, you rode out your high by fucking yourself on his cock and fingers. You were drowning in the sensations, overwhelmingly full of a man that you knew would eventually drive you crazy.

When your body fell limp, he released your hair and grabbed your hip, guiding you to another devastating orgasm. “You still doing okay, baby?”

For a moment, you could only respond with a moan. His thumb brushed over your clit and you gasped. “Daddy, please, please, please—!”

“You think you deserve it, baby?”

“Please make me come,” you begged.

He waited until you were finishing around his fingers and finally, shoved his cock in completely.

You buried your face in the bed, screaming, sobbing, crying his name. He brought his hand from your hip to your hair, petting and shushing you, and that was all you ever needed from Ransom.

He gave you only seconds before his hips were rolling, his fingers pumping in and out of you, thumb rubbing your clit. He paid no mind to you, he simply used your body, no matter how much you were shuddering and shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

It was almost immediate that he pulled out after he finished and climbed off the bed to pull you with him. Your legs were shaking, but he held you tight to keep you up. He turned your back to him so he could watch his cum drip out of your ass.

When he turned you back to him, he gathered his cum from the inside of your thighs and ran his hand across your mouth. Fucked out, covered in him, you never looked more beautiful.

“This is your home,” he told you. “If you say it isn’t again, you won’t be able to walk for a very long time. Understood?”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m convinced yet.”

Ransom tossed you onto the bed like you weighed nothing and went to the door just to lock it. Was it weird that you thought you might get something out of Linda pounding on the door while her son was absolutely pounding you?

May: the anniversary,

It was Linda and Richard’s anniversary and that meant that everyone living in the house had to celebrate because the Thrombeys were starting to face withdrawals from not receiving enough attention from others.

Joni and Walt had decided to cook dinner that night and it surprisingly did not end in disaster. There were some presents, the family was trying their hand at online shopping and as the days ticked by, more and more packages were showing up every day.

The night was ending with a game of charades, something you and Ransom elected not to take part in beyond watching. The first team was Meg, Walt, and Richard. The second team was Joni, Linda, and Donna, and Jacob was the referee. They needed one, every single game because they were oddly competitive and whenever things got too aggressive, they were given a card, from green to red. Red meant disqualification, you’d only seen it happen twice in all these years, but it was great when it did happen.

You couldn’t help but watch Richard and Linda. They’d been married for so long now, so you didn’t understand why Richard had had his affair when he did. She wasn’t overly young, she had no money, it just didn’t make much sense to you.

You were on Ransom’s lap in the chair in the corner of the room. He had been drinking all night, so you chose not to. You guys were a better team when you were coordinating like that. He was always weird about his parents, you figured that was why he’d been off all day.

“Do you think you could ever forgive someone if they cheated on you?” he asked.

You turned to him, eyebrow arched. “I would murder you.”

He scoffed. “Come on, be serious.”

“I am being serious, Ransom.”

“If I were going to cheat on you, I would have already done it. I meant in a general sense.”

“I don’t think you love someone if you cheat on them,” you reasoned. “So, would I forgive? Maybe, I guess, whatever that even means. But would I stay? Hell no.”

“Right?”

“You talking about your parents?”

“It’s so weird, isn’t it? I mean, not really. Men are men and don’t they all eventually cheat?”

“You are playing with fire having this conversation with me.”

He scoffed. “I just don’t get it, why would she stay?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It seems like you all have your, like, comfortable environments. You don’t really want to leave them…at least she gave him that killer black eye.”

“Yeah,” he recalled with a small smile. “But…I don’t know, I don’t completely blame him, either.”

“Ransom,” you warned.

“No, I’m not saying it’s my mom’s fault, but…she doesn’t exactly love him either. Maybe he thought she used to.”

“Maybe she did.”

“Yeah, maybe…I don’t know, if you’re blackmailing someone essentially—”

“She’s not blackmailing him.”

“He has no money,” he insisted. “He’s terrified. She holds it over him constantly.”

“Ransom, right now, choose. Me or money?”

He turned to you. “No hesitation, I would choose you.”

You were almost surprised to hear that, you thought…you had always thought you were Ransom’s second love, honestly.

“What? Were you expecting something else?”

“I don’t know.” You didn’t want to make him think you thought so low of him. It was a pretty vile accusation.

“You do, that’s fine…because I do believe that if we didn’t have money, it would tear us apart.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” you argued.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You love your diamonds and this house. And I like spoiling the hell out of you… I know those are simple things, but to have to work for things? We couldn’t make it.”

“Well, he obviously wasn’t that scared, or he wouldn’t have cheated. That was my point. You’re acting like money is the most important thing, if it was, he wouldn’t have risked it.”

“True. I don’t know if I would be able to deal with it.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and laid your cheek against his. “Ransom, baby, you’re jealous of inanimate objects and you once fucked me every day for a week and didn’t let me come because you thought I was talking to my ex.”

“It depends how it started, that’s all I’m saying. People aren’t perfect, you know.”

“I am,” you declared.

He scoffed. “You let me fuck you while you were dating that ex.”

“You coerced me,” you argued. “I was innocently in my own room and you just showed up—”

“So, you’re saying I seduced you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Can we go to bed? I don’t think there are going to be any fistfights tonight.”

“I’m sorry, baby, I know you were looking forward to that.”

“A bit,” you admitted.

“I’ll tell you about the time my mom tackled Joni at my high school graduation.”

You gasped. “I love when you tell me stories.”

Ultimately, things had gone back to normal with you and Ransom. He was sleeping with you more nights than not, he was in his office much less, things seemed to be in a much better place.

June: the affair,

Until June rolled around.

Then all his office shit started up again, the late nights, the insane number of hours. You tried to be understanding, but then he was abandoning you at family dinners and there was the time some moron rear-ended you and you had to call Walt because Joni and Meg weren’t picking up their phones because it was five in the morning, and Ransom wasn’t either because Ransom wasn’t a reliable boyfriend.

He had been apologetic, and you were just relieved that it had been an overall easy situation, so you didn’t hold it against him. Not until you had to borrow his phone to call yours because you had once again misplaced it. You were, once upon a time, a very organized, together person. Then the Thrombeys moved into your home.

You saw dating apps. Dating apps! On his fucking phone. You had no idea how to react, so you just didn’t. You made the mistake of letting everything grow, everything just pile on top of one another until you were at your breaking point.

Linda liked to poke at you and normally, she couldn’t. Because normally, Ransom was around. Because Ransom knew how his mother was and he knew how you were, and he just didn’t want anyone to end up dead.

That changed one morning when you were making pancakes and she came in for her early morning coffee. She asked where Ransom was and that was really the start of it because she did know. She found it hilarious that Ransom had his own office and never let anyone else in. She hated that she wasn’t allowed in but was placated that you weren’t either.

But you told her where he was anyway because you were attempting to be civil. She pointed out how much time he was spending in his office and you pretended it was common, she then asserted that that was how Richard was behaving during his affair.

And honestly, why hadn’t you thought of it before? He had to be having an affair, you always heard him typing in his office. He was clearly on some website, probably some BDSM chatroom, and you were going to fucking kill him.

It all made sense now, last month when he’d asked you if you would forgive cheating. That was just Ransom being Ransom, he was trying to guess your reaction if you ever found out. Well, you hadn’t been exaggerating, you would kill him.

You stormed up to the office and started pounding on the door. The rest of the family was going to hear you, but they were smart enough to know they better just mind their own business in their rooms.

“Ransom!” you yelled after minutes of no answer. Again, you were met with silence and that was when your irritation became fury. “Ransom, I will kick this fucking door down! You know these doors are old and weak and I can do it!”

Long story short, the doors were stronger than you thought, and you could not do it. The low point of your life was probably having to crawl to Meg’s room and ask her to call their super-expensive home doctor because you had done something terrible to your foot.

Ransom showed up three hours later after you had been all wrapped up and the family was fawning over you. You were being forced to sit on the couch and they would not stop asking you if they could get things for you. You were already wearing three different crystals, Walt had made you hot chocolate, and Jacob was checking his horror movie collection for your favorites.

“What the hell happened?” Ransom demanded.

You glared at him. “Where were you?”

“I was out for a walk.”

“And you didn’t take your phone?” Richard pressed. “We were calling you non-stop.”

“I left it up in my office,” he informed, moving to your side. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“She tried to kick down your office door,” Linda answered.

Ransom gave you an incredulous look. “I’m sorry?”

“You should be,” you retorted. You never argued in front of the family because you and Ransom were a team. Yes, you fought, but you never wanted to give the family insight on the cracks in your relationship because you knew they would exploit them.

“Enough,” Meg cut in. “No arguing, Dr. Fields told her to take it easy.”

“You had to call the doctor?” he questioned. “What did you do?”

“Fracture,” Linda informed, “Not that big of a deal. Please, continue arguing.”

Everyone else glared at her while you and Ransom glared at one another. It was then that Jacob reappeared with one of the Saw movies. Typically.

August: the book,

You had taken to sleeping in Meg’s room with her because Ransom was a demon, but he wouldn’t try to enter her room. Ever. So, you comfortably stashed yourself away there every night and stayed there most mornings until noon. She didn’t mind. You’d gotten her a tv in there, so you watched Netflix a lot.

You had yet to confront Ransom with your accusations because you were scared. This family was obscene, being part of it was insane, every single person here was terrible in their own right. But you liked talking to Meg, you liked gardening with Joni, you liked reading the newspaper with Walt in the mornings and talking about the crime section. Even Jacob wasn’t the worst company, he liked to watch Dateline with you.

Ransom was convinced that you were just mad at him because you fractured your toes and couldn’t do yoga for a while. You were fine with him believing that because then you would have to have the conversation.

It was an odd situation to be in. You were sure he hadn’t physically done anything, but you weren’t sure if that should make you feel better or worse. He was connecting with someone and after your conversation, it was clear that he also believed you couldn’t cheat on someone you love. Given that he’d never said he loved you, you were rightfully concerned.

Did he ever love you?

Did you just spend almost 7 years with someone who was never going to feel that way about you? Did you throw away all those opportunities with someone else? Did you stupidly choose Ransom over your family?

Did you let this happen?

You had said you couldn’t forgive it, but now you understood why Linda did. If you love someone, you just don’t want to lose them. You hope that they don’t betray you, but what about when they do? It’s not easy to just leave.

You still loved Ransom, you always would. You didn’t want to lose any of the relationships you formed with the family, but it was different with Ransom. You didn’t want to, obviously, but you also couldn’t. You couldn’t imagine a life without him, you couldn’t imagine moving on, you couldn’t imagine being with someone else.

What did that mean?

You weren’t sure about the long-term answer, but short-term, it meant that you were going to pretend. He wasn’t cheating, he didn’t have dating apps on his phone, he didn’t even have an office as far as you were concerned.

Nothing. Everything was perfect.

Until Jacob’s birthday. You weren’t aware of it before, but unsurprisingly, he was a fucking Leo. You made a mental note to investigate the astrology of certain serial killers Jacob reminded you of, but you would do that with Meg later.

You were helping Walt and Joni cook this time. Apparently, they were the only Thrombeys that knew how to cook and were pleased to have another addition to the small team. It wasn’t a particularly difficult meal, lasagna with garlic bread, but it was Jacob’s favorite.

The plans had been made the week prior, Ransom was going to do one thing for you. Just one, you asked for so little. He would pick up the cake at noon and hide it in the second kitchen. Hide because Jacob wasn’t aware this was happening. He didn’t like to be the center of attention and if he knew this was happening before it was actually happening, he would do anything he could to stop it.

But come 2 PM, three hours after the cake was set to be picked up, you received a call from the bakery. You had let them know that your boyfriend was going to pick it up and you left his name with them and everything, all Ransom needed to do was show up.

The woman on the phone informed you that that didn’t happen, and they were about to close because of pandemic hours. You promised you would be in before she needed to shut the doors and since you were comfortable with your window of time, this was done. Over. First, you were going to yell at Ransom.

You quietly made your way to his office and listened with your ear pressed to the door. You didn’t make a sound until you heard him typing, then you started banging on the door with both hands.

It was seconds later that he answered the door, a confused look on his face over your apparent urgency. He looked like he’d pulled an all-nighter and smelled like a lot of alcohol. “What?”

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

“What? What do you need?”

You tried to open the door, but he held it in place.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You were getting into that office because you were going to find out what he was doing, he was not going to continue to lie to you. You kicked his shin and when his leg buckled, you shoved your way in.

“Hey!” He hurriedly shut the door behind you. He did not want anyone else getting in.

It looked like a normal office. There was a full bookshelf of titles that you couldn’t read because your anger was blurring your vision, there was a desk, a laptop, chairs, a bar cart, not a thing out of the ordinary. What the fuck was he doing in here all day?

There was only one logical answer. You finally turned to him, hands on your hips. “Who is she, Ransom?”

“What?”

“I know you’ve been cheating on me and I’m not going to play this game with you! I just want to know who the fuck she is!”

“Are you out of your mind?!”

“Yes, I’m out of my fucking mind! I’ve been living with your psychotic family since March, dealing with their shit on top of yours, and you are now cheating on me! Please explain to me how anyone else wouldn’t also be out of their mind!”

“I’m not cheating on you!”

“Really?! Then what the fuck are you always doing up here?”

He paused at that.

The camel’s back broke. This was officially over. You turned around and rushed to his computer. He only took a second before he realized what you were doing and followed you there.

“I swear to everything above, if you are in some pathetic chatroom—”

He leaned over you just as you reached for the laptop and slammed it shut. “I’m not cheating on you!”

“Then let me see your fucking laptop!” You didn’t care that he had his hands planted on it, you still grabbed the opposite ends and tried to pull it out from under him. It wasn’t a logical plan since he was much stronger than you, but you weren’t necessarily operating on logic.

“You are crazy,” he asserted.

You moved your hands to the top edge of the laptop and threw your entire body back into Ransom. More than anything, it probably shocked him into moving back. Had you known that it was going to work, you probably would have been better about keeping your footing. Since that wasn’t the case, you both ended up on the floor and for a split second, the laptop was only in your hands.

You dove forward, just inches from the door.

Ransom rushed after you, grabbing your leg to pull you back down.

You knew he was going to get you under him, you wrapped your arms tight around the laptop and started screaming. Joni or Richard might feel inclined to call the police if they thought the two of you were honestly fighting.

Ransom slammed his hand down on your mouth as he crawled over you, knees pressed to your hips to keep you pinned there. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”

You didn’t say a word and you didn’t let your hold on the laptop waver for even a second.

“If I move my hand, you better not scream again,” he warned.

Obviously, you were going to. As soon you could, you yelled, “Call the police, he’s going to kill—!”

Ransom covered your mouth again, eyes wide at you. “You have lost it!”

It was then that you realized you needed to do something. He had the upper hand, and he was going to get the laptop away from you if you did nothing. You started swiping at him with both elbows and knees, never catching anything, but making him nervous enough to back off a little.

Fuck it, he was done trying to be reasonable with you. He moved his hand again, but only to start fighting with you over the laptop again.

“Let it go!” you shrieked.

“You let it go!” he countered. “It’s mine!”

“Not anymore, cheater!”

“I’m not fucking cheating on you!”

“If you have some online BDSM girlfriend, I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“What? What the hell goes through your mind!?”

“You’re constantly in here and you won’t let me in, and you never tell me what you’re doing, you never tell anyone else either—”

“Because I hate my family,” he reminded.

“And clearly, you hate me!”

“I don’t hate you, you’re being childish.”

“Tell me her name, Ransom, or so help me—”

“I’m not cheating!”

“I saw the dating apps on your god damn phone!”

“I am not cheating!”

“Then what are you doing?!”

“I’m writing a book!” he hissed.

You froze. He was what?

He kept his voice quiet, “That’s where I was a couple months ago, the meeting that I told you was none of your business. I only had a few chapters, but I got a deal out of it—”

“Get off me.”

He blinked in surprise and then hurried to do so, helping you up, no longer interested in stealing away the laptop.

You held onto it because you weren’t yet sure if you were going to use it to cause severe bodily harm to him. He was writing a book and didn’t tell you? You didn’t know he was interested in writing at all. You didn’t know he could sit down and write more than one entire sentence. He was always moving around, throwing himself into mindless activities.

A book?

You were hurt. Getting a book deal was major and he didn’t tell you he was trying for it, but then he didn’t even tell you that he’d gotten it. He had this huge thing in his life that he kept separate from you and that hurt your feelings.

“That’s was the apps were,” he explained. “I was doing research. Honestly, I’ll let you see the profiles, they’re not even pictures of me. I haven’t spoken to anyone either, it’s just very basic—”

You held the laptop out to him.

He slowly took it back from you, preparing for any other extreme reaction you might have. What he wasn’t expecting was complete silence, he figured you must have been confused by this. It was rather sudden, even for him. “You going to say something?”

You debated for a long while. You wanted to ask why he was pushing you away. You wanted to ask if it was because he didn’t think you were supportive, if he just didn’t want you to know, then you wanted to know why that was. What had you ever done that made him think he couldn’t tell you about this?

“I have to go get Jacob’s cake.”

“Shit!” He ran his hand down his face. “I completely forgot—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Then you were rushing out, ignoring the curious looks from the family on the way.

October: Ransom’s birthday,

It had been seven weeks since you found out about the book and seven weeks since you last had an actual conversation with Ransom. That was your doing purely, and he made the attempts, but you ignored them.

Linda was thrilled. This was different than when you and Ransom were fighting, because fighting indicated that you had the desire to win, he had the desire to win, but then that meant a resolution would follow. If you were ignoring him, what did you want? She hoped it was the end of the road for the two of you.

You weren’t sure. About anything. But you just had to go day by day and listen to yourself. Up to now, you weren’t sure what you wanted to do. As time went on and you were left to wallow in your hurt feelings, you were wondering if maybe this was the end.

Seven years and he didn’t tell you he was writing a book? That was insane, that was inexcusable. You didn’t get to have any part of your life not completely exposed to Ransom and you were okay with that. Obviously, he didn’t feel the same.

Seven years, a nearly dead modeling career, no skills, no aim in life. You had no idea how you would start all over. You had no idea how you would live your life without being Ransom’s girlfriend. It was practically a title, like the queen, and you loved it. You loved him.

But he didn’t tell you about the book! How could you get over that? Well, you could talk to him, but you were not going to do that. You just weren’t ready because you would want to know why and all the answers that were playing out in your mind were not going to make you feel better.

It didn’t matter, or more correctly, it couldn’t matter. Ransom’s birthday was coming up and Linda was trying to fight you on everything.

It was October, the worst of the pandemic was over, wasn’t it? No, you didn’t think so and anyone with two solid IQ points wouldn’t either. She wanted some family over, some of his friends—Megan, you had heard her mention to Richard. You didn’t want a single person in your house, no one outside of the family.

She suggested going to a restaurant then, but you knew Ransom hated when they threw him parties like that.

She wanted him to have a red velvet cake and you knew that Ransom hated red velvet. He preferred lemon, but he told you that you were never allowed to get him a lemon cake because he would eat it all. He was fine with chocolate, didn’t hate it, didn’t love it.

If you weren’t going out, then she wanted catering from his favorite restaurant, and a minimum of 30 people over, the house was big enough for it. It wasn’t even his favorite restaurant, the one she wouldn’t stop talking about, you knew for a fact Ransom did not like 30 people, and the house was not big enough for it.

On top of all of that, she kept asking you what you were going to get him. She just didn’t want to get the same thing. Why would that happen? Why would she get him the same thing as you? You had no idea, but she insisted on knowing. Problem was, you didn’t have an answer to give her. You had no idea what you were going to get Ransom.

Three days before his birthday, Ransom found you on the floor of the kitchen with an icepack pressed to your forehead. It was three in the morning, you had most of the lights off, only your phone and laptop providing light. Even in the dim kitchen, he could tell that you had been crying, eyes puffy and red, tear tracks down your cheeks.

He had been in his office, more writing. He’d only come down for a glass of water, sure that no one else would be awake at such an odd hour. This was the first time in a long time that he had seen you alone, and this naked. Usually, you were surrounded by the family, Joni being the greatest culprit. And since you still weren’t sleeping in the bedroom, he hadn’t seen you in your tiny shorts and bralettes.

He sat down at your side, setting his hand on your thigh. “Hey, is everything okay?”

You tossed the icepack onto the floor. “I never got stress headaches before your family moved in.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.”

It was silent for several moments after that, you were thinking about how you wanted to approach this topic. It was clear now, in your mind, why he hadn’t told you about the book. “I never listen to you.”

He turned to you, eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

You were already crying again, tears rolling down your face. You had felt terrible these past few weeks and you were finally beginning to understand why. “I don’t listen, I’m a terrible listener.”

“No,” he protested. “You’re not a terrible listener—”

“I have no idea what to get you for your birthday. I never know, I never get you a good present.”

“Yes, you do,” he argued. “And you don’t need to get me anything—”

“Of course, I do!” you blurted out. Was he insane? This was his birthday, you couldn’t not get him something for his birthday. “This is why you didn’t tell me about the book, right?”

His eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Because I don’t listen,” you explained. “Why would you tell me about it if I wasn’t even going to listen, right?”

“Baby,” he sighed, “That’s not why I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t trying to keep it from you, honestly—”

“You didn’t tell me you were writing, you didn’t tell me you were trying to get published, and then you didn’t tell me about the book deal.”

“I know…I was going to.”

“But?” you prompted. “How could you not tell me about any of it?”

“I was worried.”

“Why?”

“Because of fucking Harlan. He’s the world’s best mystery author, for whatever fucking reason. I was worried that you wouldn’t think I should do this. I was worried about how it would look. I don’t want to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps like the rest of my pathetic family.”

“So, were you just never going to say anything about it?”

“Well…maybe. There’s something else… I wasn’t sure I was going to use my name, so it was completely possible that I could keep you from ever finding out about them. And if you ever got suspicious, maybe publish a few of the others under my real name.”

“Others? What are you talking about?”

“So…my book deal is for, at the very least, three books. In a series. If they do well, I can do others, with the possibility of keeping this series going…whenever I feel inspired to do so.”

“Okay…what’s the series about?”

“A woman.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“A very mean woman,” he clarified. “She’s a black widow, you know, marries rich men, murders them, takes the money…and I’ve sort of been using your name.”

Your eyebrows slowly rose. “You’ve been writing about me?”

“No,” he immediately protested, then sighed. “Okay, a little, but she’s beautiful. I mention that a lot, I promise.”

Yes, you were relieved. But was he completely off the hook? You slapped his shoulder. “Are you serious?”

“Hey,” he held his hand to the skin that you had just smacked. “Ow, maybe don’t hit me just days away from my birthday if you didn’t get me anything.”

“God, Ransom, I was really hurt.”

“I’m sorry about that. Really, I know I rarely ever apologize and sometimes, I don’t mean it, but I mean it now.”

“Well, can I read some of it?”

He smirked. “I don’t know, baby girl, you haven’t been behaving lately. You tried to break into my office, hurt yourself, and then did break into my office to steal my laptop. You thought I was cheating on you.”

“I saw dating apps, Ransom.”

“After we talked about my parents—”

“You lock yourself in your office for, like, 20 hours at a time—”

“And some BDSM chatroom? Because you’re normal in bed?”

You rolled your eyes. “Look, I’m sorry for accusing you of cheating, but you should have told me about the book. Which you apologized for, so it just cancels out. Let’s do what we usually do and just pretend it never happened.”

“You told Joni to call the cops,” he reminded.

You shrugged. “I miss Wagner, he probably would have been over here immediately.”

He snorted. “Okay, we both made mistakes, but you’re right.”

With his agreement to move on, you climbed onto his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Please?”

“I’m not completely convinced yet,” he teased.

Rolling your eyes, you kissed him. “Now?”

“You’re getting closer.”

You scoffed and kissed him again, reaching into his sweatpants to pull out his cock. It didn’t take long to get him hard and as soon as you did, you used your other hand to pull your shorts aside. You broke away from the kiss to watch his face as you slowly slid down his length.

His hands gripped your hips and he nodded. “Yeah, you can have whatever you want.”

You smiled. “Perfect, let’s get it now.”

He snorted. “Wow, now you’re a fucking comedian?”

“Well, you’re an author,” you retorted.

He nodded once. “You have a point. I vaguely remember what I wrote, want me to tell you?”

You nodded. You wanted to hear it in his voice, you were going to demand that he read it to you anyway.

“Her first husband was a writer,” he informed.

You lifted your eyebrows. Was that supposed to be clever?

“He often wrote poetry about how devastatingly beautiful he found her.”

You rolled your eyes a little, turning down to stare at his chest. He was wearing a shirt, but you could still see the muscles through the white material. “How did she kill him?”

“Scared him to death, she is very scary.”

You bit your cheek to prevent a smile.

“His fault, though. He was never healthy, did a few drugs he shouldn’t have. Drank too much, never ate right. He had a weak heart anyway.”

You hummed.

He wrapped his arm around your back and rolled you over onto the floor underneath him. He pulled your thighs apart before placing both hands on the floor for balance. Slowly, he pulled out and drove back in hard.

You gasped his name, arms winding tightly around his torso.

“He loves her skin,” he asserted.

You nodded encouragingly, you wanted him to tell you everything. “Mhm.”

“Loves how soft she is, especially her thighs, and he loves how she bruises.” He was steadily rocking his hips, speaking just loud enough that you could hear him over the wet noises of his cock sliding in and out of your body, but quiet enough that you were sure no one else would hear.

You reminded yourself you were downstairs, on the kitchen floor, it was important to remain quiet. Ransom’s family had caught you in a lot of low moments over the years, but this would take the cake. You turned your head, burying your face in the bend of his neck.

“He loves her neck, how perfectly it fits in his hands. He loves her lips, how they look wrapped around him, or when she’s smiling—”

“You wrote that?” you breathed.

“This isn’t some school-book-report shit like what Harlan was publishing.”

“Those weren’t children’s books,” you felt inclined to point out.

“Well, mine have sex.”

You snorted. “You’re going to write about other men fucking me?”

“A woman here and there,” he explained. “That’s why they have to die such horrible deaths.”

You laughed briefly, pressing your mouth to his shoulder when you worried you would moan.

“He loves her legs, how tightly they wrap around him.” As he spoke, he lifted your legs one at a time, pressing them to the sides of his body as a cue to hook your ankles together. “He loves her arms, how easily he can pin them above her head.” Again, he did just that and you were forced to lay flat on the floor, clamping your mouth shut to stifle the noises spilling out.

After managing to get both wrists in one hand, he placed his opposite forearm off to your side and set all his weight there. You could feel it in the way he got heavier against your hips, trapping you between him and the floor, controlling every aspect of how he was going to make you come.

He stared down at your face for a moment, watching you struggle to keep your composure as he was fucking into you harder now. He leaned down and your eyes fell shut, he kissed over both eyelids and said, “He loves her eyes, even when she’s looking up at him, demanding something, a new diamond necklace, a car, but won’t actually say the words because she’s so fucking spoiled.”

You smirked and he felt it, and his hips snapped up harshly to get it to stop. It only worked for a moment. You were smug, Ransom was pouring his heart out to you and confessed that he liked that you were spoiled? You would never let him live this down.

“He loves her cheeks,” he started kissing across your face and you couldn’t help but smile, “Especially when she’s doing that.” He stopped to pay special attention to your nose, “And he loves her nose, even though she hates it. And he loves when she pouts,” he lowered his mouth to give you several chaste pecks, until you were pouting because he wouldn’t just kiss you.

With a scoff, he finally let you kiss him back. It didn’t last long before he was on the move again, pressing his lips to your chin and proclaiming the fictional character’s love of that, then your jaw, your clavicle, and once he tore your bralette out of the way, your breasts.

As he continued to move down, he was sliding his cock out by the inch and you were trying to stop him from getting too far, you were desperately pulling at him with your legs, but Ransom was much stronger than you.

“He loves her stomach,” he muttered into your skin as he descended and finally, his cock slipped out. Because of that, he had to let your wrists go but you knew better than to try to move them.

“Ransom, please—”

“And he loves her hips.” As he pulled down your shorts, he kissed the skin he exposed, almost frantically alternating between left and right. Once the shorts were down, he spread your thighs and looked up at you. “And he fucking loves her pussy.”

You let out a strangled, high-pitched sound as he dove down and wrapped his lips around your clit. He stared at you the entire time as he sucked for a few seconds, then flicked his tongue back and forth, only to repeat the pattern until you were crying and squirming, staying in the position he had placed you in.

When he knew you were close, he pulled back. He only set small kisses to your aching center, hands moving up and down your hips, your stomach, your thighs. “He loves how sweet it tastes, he loves how fucking tight it is, how it feels like his cock was made to be inside it—”

“Ransom, please,” you blurted out. Your arms were stinging with the desire to reach down for him, but you knew that would change the path of this entire night. You just needed to be fucked. Simply. Intimately. None of the elaborate shit you both usually tried.

In seconds, he had made his way over you and was inside you again. You wrapped yourself around him, arms and legs, and held onto him tight enough that you were sure he wouldn’t be able to get away again.

“He loves every fucking inch of her,” he stated. “Because she’s his, she belongs to him and she’s never going to belong to anyone else.”

You scoffed. “But she kills him?”

“Well, she’s a complex woman.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not complex.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“I just want you and this house, and I want all of this shit to be over so we can get rid of your family.”

He kissed you shortly. “That makes two of us, baby.”

There was a difference between loving something about someone and truly being in love with someone. You’d always loved things about Ransom, but it took you about a solid year to confidently admit that you were in love with him. He could say that he loved everything about you, but that was not him finally saying it.

“Does she love him?” you wondered.

He shrugged a shoulder. “He thinks so.”

“Does he love her?” This wasn’t asking for too much. Ransom could hide behind this fictional creation of his and say yes, and you would never ask again. You just wanted to hear it once, that wasn’t unfair.

He considered his answer for a long time, breaking eye contact to look down at where his fingers were hovering over your shoulder. He began to trace shapes there, still contemplating. “Sometimes…she thinks so.”

“But does he?” you pressed.

Again, more silence. He was trying to gauge what he could get away with. He always knew this was going to wear on you eventually, but he never thought it was going to be during one of the times he was inside you. How could you not feel how he felt about you? “I think—”

“Are you fucking serious!?”

You immediately knew whose voice that was—Linda. Shutting your eyes, you let your head rest back on the floor. The headache you had been crying over earlier was returning.

“RICHARD!” She turned out of the kitchen and began storming back to her room. “Richard, wake up! You need to talk to your son! Is there no place in this house anymore that is sacred?!”

Ransom sighed deeply and you looked up at him. “Well, do you want to make you come first before we go upstairs?”

You shrugged. “Okay. Hurry up, we don’t have to be quiet anymore.”

November: thanksgiving,

Ransom was on his best behavior, you theorized that was because he didn’t want you to again ask him for more of that insane basic human emotion. Whatever, you could not dwell. There were people dying in this world, and you wanted to waste time crying over your boyfriend who gave you everything you wanted, but just wouldn’t say a certain word to you?

Well, the answer was yes, but it was Thanksgiving and the Thrombeys had about a million and one weird-ass family traditions. That meant you were short on time to be pouting.

It was a freezing, perfect day. It had snowed all night and the house looked like something straight out of a Hallmark movie. Yes, this was going to be a complicated day with a lot of personalities that were butting heads because everyone had been together for way too long, but you were feeling festive. You wanted to make the best of the day and you planned to force the rest of the family to follow your lead.

The start of the traditions was donating money. You were the one who brought it up as soon as Richard tried to skip down the list. It always started with donating. Harlan would write checks for half a million dollars and let every member choose where they wanted to donate, the past three years you were included in that. Harlan always liked you, probably more than he liked some of his actual family.

“I’m just not sure,” Donna was saying, “We haven’t made much money this year.”

“Are you kidding?” Meg demanded. “Your husband’s publishing company is still seeing sale increases.”

“Because of the death of the author,” Linda pointed out. “Meaning, we should be a lot more frugal. The money will not be coming in the same way that it was.”

“This is not up for debate,” you snapped. “Everyone pick a god damn charity. Harlan insisted on this every single year, and we are going to continue it. Unless you all would like to provoke his ghost to come murder us. He died in this house after all!”

“It’s money,” Ransom pointed out. “We have more than enough, some people don’t have any.”

Linda rolled her eyes. “My son is just trying to get you to have sex with him.”

You glared.

“Mother,” Ransom sighed. “This isn’t a discussion. Just pick your damn charity.”

“Donna, it’s fine,” Walt promised. “Meg’s right, we’ve had a great year. And Y/N is right, Dad always wanted us to do this. I will start with my usual charity, Homes for Our Troops.”

“Fantastic.” You took the check as soon as he handed it over. “Donna?”

“American Cancer Society, of course.” She held it out for you and then looked to Jacob. “I think this year—”

“I have a charity picked,” Jacob informed.

Everyone fell silent. Likely, everyone’s immediate suspicion was Trump’s request for donations since he was still insisting the election was fraudulent. However, no one said anything because no one wanted to be the first victim of Jacob’s impending murder spree.

“Can’t I pick my own?” he pressed.

“Yes,” you answered. “You can, because everyone can pick their own charity.”

“Yeah,” Walt echoed. “Of course.”

He wrote the name down and slid the check across the table to you.

Ransom’s hand tightened on your thigh, a reminder not to let anyone antagonize you this holiday.

“Canines for Disabled Kids,” you read. “Jacob, that’s really great…I didn’t even know that was a charity.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, I like the idea that they can have dogs as friends and don’t have to make human friends. Humans are so stupid.” Then he returned all his attention to his phone.

“And we’re back,” Richard muttered.

Donna’s head snapped in his direction.

“Okay,” you interjected. “Joni?”

She chose a foundation interested in ending childhood obesity, received a snide comment from Meg about how even her acts of kindness were vain, and you intervened before it became bigger than that. Meg chose an organization that works to stop childhood prostitution, Linda went for homeless youth, and Richard selected Make-A-Wish Foundation. Walt felt the need to sarcastically commend him for his originality.

“Enough,” you said before Richard could respond. “My dearest Ransom, what have you chosen?”

He smiled at you. “Animal Legal Defense Fund. Their tagline is: all our clients are innocent.”

You nodded. “They are. All animals are innocent.”

Linda rolled her eyes. “Can we move on?”

“Okay, mine is—”

“I can’t believe you don’t have a problem that she’s basically brainwashing our son,” Linda interrupted, turning to Richard.

“Linda, please,” Richard sighed.

“My charity,” you spoke loudly, gaining their attention once more, “Is Planned Parenthood.”

“Are you out of your mind?” she demanded. “You want to donate your money to abortions?”

You glared. “That’s not all Planned Parenthood does, but…yes, I do. Babies suck, if a woman doesn’t want to have it, she doesn’t have to.”

Joni nodded. “I agree, completely. I’ve been learning in my group about how we are only placed on this earth to offer up our vibrations to one another. Our obligations do not exceed that. We don’t have to be anything! Not a mother, not a wife—”

“Oh, shut up!” Linda barked.

“Mother, calm down,” Ransom dismissed. “I don’t believe for a second any of you have not either had an abortion or been an accessory to one in the past.”

“I would never!” she gasped, pointing a finger at him. “And you better not ever let her!”

“Yeah, don’t worry about that happening. I’ve been thinking about eliminating that possibility, surgically—”

Linda’s mouth dropped.

This was, of course, untrue. Ransom would, first, never sacrifice any part of himself for that reason. Second, the matter had not been discussed yet. You guys weren’t even thinking about marriage, so of course, children weren’t being brought up. But that morning, Ransom woke up in the mood for chaos, and maybe you sort of did, too.

“I wanted a second child,” she told Richard, “You said to stop after Ransom because he was “perfect”.”

“I did say that,” he muttered to himself, a look of pure regret on his face.

You smiled at Ransom. “You are perfect.”

He kissed you, gaining disapproving noises from most of the table.

“I will never be a grandmother!” Linda yelled, burying her hands in her hair and resting her shoulders on the table.

You glanced at Ransom.

He nodded toward the kitchen. “Now that that’s done, let’s start cooking.”

Joni and Meg were currently searching the entire house for the Christmas decorations. They always ended up getting put in the strangest places and since you and Ransom had moved in and not known where they were, you moved basically everything. It was possible that you were going to have to make do with the decorations you and Ransom had been using for the past five years at his house.

You had, however, purchased a lot of lights because the Thrombeys loved their blue lights. Tacky, you wanted the yellow lights and made sure to buy enough that even a single blue light needed to be on that house. Ransom was excitedly awaiting his mother’s reaction to that.

Every year, Richard and Walt would put lights on the house while the dinner was cooking. Ransom should have helped but no one actually thought Ransom would lift a finger, so no one wasted their breath. He was only helping you cook because, as mentioned, he was pretending to be a good boyfriend.

But he was a monster, a true monster that was currently squashing even more of your dreams. “The answer isn’t just no, it’s fuck no.”

You glared. “I wasn’t asking for permission.”

“You asked if it was a good idea.”

“I think it is.”

“Then why did you ask me at all?”

“Because I thought you would be nice for a second, just a second, Ransom. I’m not asking for a lot.”

“We are not getting Jacob a dog.”

“Why not?”

“Because I hate dogs.”

“Well, I hate you,” you hissed.

He rolled his eyes. “Enough of the dramatics. This day is tiring enough already—”

“We’ll get him a small one, it doesn’t need to be those huge horses your mother calls dogs. A chihuahua, maybe. A Pomeranian, a dachshund—”

“Absolutely not, we already have Joni here, I don’t want some yappy animal—”

“Ransom!” you whined. “If we get him a dog, he might not become a serial killer.”

“He already is a serial killer, love, these are just the early years when he’s finding himself. The answer is still no.”

“Ugh, fine, can you just make the pie crusts, please?”

“How many?”

“Three.”

“Three? For what?”

“Pumpkin, apple, pecan, Ransom. The same things your family has served every single year I’ve been here, and presumably, all the ones before that.”

“Ugh.” He stood at the counter reading the recipe, muttering his disapproval, up until he saw the ingredients on the counter. “What is all of this?”

“Um, you know that recipe in your hand? The final product doesn’t just appear.”

“No, what is all of this…gluten-free flour, oat flour? Where’s the normal flour?”

“That is normal flour, Ransom.”

“No,” he argued. “No, it’s not.”

“It’s normal to some people,” you countered. “And this year, it’s normal to us. Joni went out and bought the groceries. If you wanted something, you could have done it yourself.”

“You wouldn’t let me leave the house! You kept saying I was going to get sick and die.”

“You could have ordered them!”

“You can’t be serious. On top of this dreadful year, you’re trying to make us eat healthy food on Thanksgiving?”

“Ransom, make the pie crusts!”

It was silent for several minutes, probably because you were using the mixer to make the pumpkin filling. As soon as it was off, Ransom was acting like you’d asked him to perform surgery.

“What does toss mean?”

“What?”

“It says to toss the ingredients.”

“Um, like, stir, I guess.”

“You guess or you know?”

“Just fucking stir, Ransom. I make pies all the time.”

He huffed. “No, oh, no. No, this is telling me to touch things with my hands, that’s disgusting and I’m not doing that.”

You turned back, eyes wide. “Ransom!”

“I’m not touching butter with my hands!”

“What is wrong with you!? It’s cooking, you have to use your hands to cook!”

“I don’t like touching butter!”

“How would you know? You’ve never cooked a day in your life!”

“I’m not touching it,” he claimed.

You took a slow breath in and released it while counting to ten. “Then switch with me and make the apple pie filling.”

“Great.” He walked to your counter as you walked to his. “What is this? What’s in this bowl?”

“The pumpkin pie filling. Cover it and put it in the refrigerator. That’s where the apples are.”

His next question came after he pulled out the bag of apples. “These?”

You turned back, blinking. “Yes, Ransom, those are apples.”

“I have to cut them?”

“And peel them.”

“That’s going to take forever.”

“Ransom, I’m about to smack you.”

“This is a lot!” he pointed out. “Why are we the only people cooking?”

“We’re not, not anymore,” you decided. “Get out, you can go help your father and Walt with the Christmas lights.”

“And you’re going to cook alone?”

“I basically already am.” You turned around to walk to the sink to wash your hands. Unlike Ransom, you weren’t making one pie crust at a time, and you would only need to do this once. When you turned around, you knew Ransom was behind you, but you had no idea what he was doing.

You only saw how close he was when you felt something wet and cold against the side of your face. Whatever it was, he dragged it all the way to the opposite cheek. You smelled and tasted the frosting that you had made for the sugar cookies.

He peeled the frosted star-shaped cookie off your skin and ate one of the corners. “Your blood-sugar seemed low, I thought I’d help.”

You tore the cookie out of his hand and shoved it directly in his face.

He scattered back, eyes wide in shock—as if he expected anything less? “What is wrong with you?!”

You grabbed the retractable faucet from the sink and turned the water on.

“Do not!”

It was a warning you ignored. Within seconds, he was slipping along the kitchen floor, rushing back to you to get the faucet out of your hands. As soon as he had it, he turned it on you, and you screamed like a cat about to be thrown in a bathtub.

“Stop it!” you ordered. “You are ruining Thanksgiving!”

“You’re ruining it!”

You elbowed him hard enough that he dropped the faucet, then kicked your heels off to run to the counter with the cookies and frosting.

“Don’t you dare!” He rushed after you and wrestled the cookie out of your hand, ultimately crushing it into crumbs that scattered all over the counter and the floor.

You shoved your opposite hand into one of the bowls of frosting, whipping around to place your hand on his face.

“What the fuck?!” But he leaned down, clearly uninterested in an answer, and pressed his face into your hair.

“My hair?!” you shrieked. “I’m going to kill you!”

There were several sets of steps that you both heard, but neither of you wanted to let the other get the upper hand. When the family finally found you, you had slipped, ended up on your ass, and Ransom was holding you down, claiming that you caused too many problems when you were on your feet.

“What the hell is going on?!” Joni questioned.

“Ransom, get off of her!” Meg pushed her way between the two of you, pulling you onto your feet. “Oh, my god, what is going on? Are you okay?”

Well, you were both soaking wet, layered in frosting, furiously trying to get another cookie to throw at the other. Were you okay? Only physically. Mentally, you weren’t sure either one of you was ever on solid ground there.

“Enough!” Linda yelled. “What is this insanity!? We need to be eating in less than an hour and as per usual, you two can’t go five minutes without fighting! That’s it, everyone get out of this kitchen! This is why I cook, this is why I do everything! I’m the only one that can!”

She turned away to open the door to usher everyone out and you took your chance to get some type of retaliation that you had been longing for since before the damn stay-at-home order.

You were able to reach for a cookie before either Meg or Ransom could stop you, and no one had ever dreamed your target would be Linda, so for a detrimental moment, their reactions were nonexistent. Essentially, everyone could only stare in pure horror as they realized the cookie was darting straight for the back of Linda’s head. Which, in your defense, wasn’t your exact intention. You thought her back, not her head…but well, there was a reason you weren’t a professional athlete.

Gasps filled the room as soon as the cookie contacted Linda’s head, then again when it fell to the floor. Linda slowly turned, eyes wide, jaw set, shoulders tense—that must be where Ransom got it.

“This is my house,” you reminded. “You do not get to order me out of my kitchen!”

She looked at Ransom, silently urging him to make his alliance known right then. Before he had to say anything, yelling sounded from outside the house. Walt and Richard had yet to finish the one job they had, everyone figured that was the cause of the disturbance.

Quickly, you all made your way out to the front of the house. Richard had his leg wrapped up in a mess of lights and was hanging from the edge of the house. The same vines of lights were also wound around Walt, who was hanging onto the house for dear life.

“Oh, my god!” Donna yelled. “Oh, my god!”

“Are you serious?” Linda demanded. “There is a pandemic! You guys seriously want to end up in the god damn hospital during a pandemic?”

Joni sighed in utter frustration. “Walt, just hang on. We’ll get Richard down—”

“Oh, my god!” Donna continued, despite the lack of panic coming from literally every other single person present. Even Walt seemed less alarmed than her. She started running to Richard and on any other day, it would have been an effortless plan of action. On this day, that Massachusetts had just seen a hell of a lot of snow, when the pavement was dangerously icy, she fell.

Meg screamed. “Oh, my god, I’m calling Dr. Fields!”

“He’s a doctor!” Joni pointed out. “A physical doctor—he won’t know how to deal with this sheer stupidity unless someone broke a bone!”

Donna, now over her initial shock, was attempting to get up.

“Donna, I think you’re hurt,” Meg said. “Just stay—”

Jacob was cautiously moving closer to her, directing her to stay put when Walt had finally lost his battle with the house. His hands slipped off and he went sliding down the edge of the roof. Richard hit the floor first, eliciting more screams from Meg and Donna, and then Walt followed onto several snow-covered bushes, and everyone lost their minds.

“I’m calling Dr. Fields! I am fucking calling Dr. Fields right now!” Meg repeated, shaking so much she could hardly get the phone out of her pocket, let alone find which one she had placed it in.

Joni began making her way through the snow to check if Richard was okay.”

“Oh, my god!” Donna was still repeating.

“Mom, just stay down,” Jacob said.

“Jesus,” Ransom snapped. “How hard is it to put these god damn lights on this god damn house?” He was following Joni, confident in the theory that his father was simply being dramatic. Walt, on the other hand, might have needed medical attention.

Meg watched her feet as she was walking back inside. “Dr. Fields, we have a serious emergency right now. I think everyone’s dying!”

Ransom and Joni were helping Richard sit up when he turned back to you. “Hey, get inside, you’re wet and going to get sick.”

He had a point, so without argument, you turned to do so. You felt the boniest of hands on your shoulders before you were shoved down face-first into the snow.

That was when Joni started screaming. “Oh, my god, call the police! She’s going to kill her. Meg, call the police!”

Meg ran out of the house and saw what was happening and once again, started to panic. “Dr. Fields, you need to get here immediately!”

Before you even fully processed what had happened, Linda was on top of you turning you onto your back.

“You stole my house!” she screeched.

“Linda!” Richard scolded.

You saw her hands go for your throat—later, everyone would claim she was probably doing something else, she obviously wasn’t going to choke you. You did the only thing you could think to do, you grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it in her face.

She toppled over and you made your way on top of her. You weren’t going to hit your boyfriend’s mother, but you did proceed to throw snow in her face until Ransom had gotten you off her.

The grand total of injuries was seven. Yet, the total of injuries that had occurred directly in the incident was five. Donna had a bruised tailbone, Richard had a broken leg, Walt had a sprained wrist, your knee was cut up fairly terribly since you fell on it when Linda pushed you, and Linda had stitches on her cheek because the first time you threw snow at her, there was a huge block of ice that you weren’t aware of. After Richard pointed out that you hadn’t started the altercation, she punched him, and he now had a swollen eye. After Ransom had gotten you inside, Meg, in her state of panic, hadn’t seen the door was shut and walked straight into it, and her nose was broken.

You weren’t sure how this family had managed more disaster with nearly 300 fewer people, but there you were. Ransom had forced you into the shower to get all the frosting out of your hair and to hopefully prevent the cold he suspected you were going to catch given the tiny outfit you were parading around in outside.

He lured you out of the shower with a mug of hot chocolate. Every space heater in the house was gathered in your bedroom and as soon as you were in his reach, Ransom wrapped you up in at least three heavy blankets.

When he sat you down on the bed, he pulled your leg out so he could tend to your knee. You felt like a child with him sat next to you with a first aid kit, too-delicately prodding at your irritated, aching skin. He was babying you.

You didn’t feel guilty for what you had done to Linda, but you did hate that Ransom was in the middle. “I’m s—”

He held his hand up to you. “Don’t.”

“But—”

He turned up to you. “Babe, she attacked you.”

“I…threw a cookie at her.”

He snorted. “Yeah, that was a little crazy.”

“I am sorry,” you huffed. “We said we weren’t going to let them bother us today.”

“You finally told her this was your house. I’ve wanted that since we first moved in. I know what we said, but all in all, I think we gained more than we lost.”

“What did we gain, Ransom?”

“Well, she knows you’re scrappy so she might think twice before pushing you again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Anything else?”

“Everyone is going to be preoccupied taking care of each other, Joni doting on Meg, my mom basically doing everything for my dad, Walt and Donna being overly protective of one another…”

“So, we can have sex in the kitchen and there’s a higher chance we won’t get caught?”

“That was exactly what I was thinking.”

You shrugged. “If we got Jacob a dog—”

“You know what?” he cut in. “Get out of these blankets, I haven’t spanked you in a long time even though you’ve deserved it about five times over by now.”

He made a show of attempting to get you out of the blankets even though you both knew he wouldn’t do it. You laughed the entire time until Ransom laid himself out on top of you, uncaring about how heavy he was.

“Is everyone okay?”

“They’ll live.”

“Well, I know Meg will—she’s going to get a nose job.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “You are just going to have to live vicariously through her.”

“We kinda ruined Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I did not,” he argued. “The turkey is almost done, the pies are in the other oven, also almost done—”

“All three?”

He nodded. “Yep. Jacob, believe it or not, was happy to peel and cut the apples.”

You rolled your eyes. “I swear, Ransom.”

“As soon as everyone stops acting like they’re dying, we’ll be able to sit down…well, Donna might not be able to sit down.”

You laughed. “Your family is insane.”

“And clearly, you fit right in.”

“Clearly,” you muttered. Unfortunately.

Christmas Eve:

Sometimes, you wished that you had listened to him when he said this wasn’t happening. Because then you wouldn’t have needed to worry about so many god damn people! It would just be you and Ransom in absolute seclusion, but no. No, you would never have it so easy during this fucking holiday.

How difficult was it to pick up the presents that you had ordered? You picked them out, you organized it all, you had only asked Ransom to drive to a single location and obtain them for you. Why hadn’t he? Because he was sleeping at 2 in the afternoon.

What did you have for Jacob? Not a damn thing. You had no presents for the teenage delinquent you were terrified of. You weren’t family, he was going to store you away in the basement and torture you until he got bored. Ransom probably wouldn’t even realize you had been missing until Jacob placed your body parts all over the house. And three of Meg’s presents were also missing, you knew Linda was going to make another comment.

You would hit her with more ice. After you strangled her son, of course, who was currently hot helping in any way at all.

“Ransom, put your fucking drink down and hand me the tape!”

“Are your fucking hands broken?!”

“I’m holding the box!”

He slammed his drink down on the bedside table and angrily stormed his way to where you were surrounded by boxes, wrapping paper, and a million other things he wasn’t even aware you’d spent money on. This was too much for his family and he was just waiting for you to realize that they were nowhere near worth the effort you constantly put in.

Ransom picked up the tape, tore a piece off, and placed it between where your fingers were resting on the box.

“Thank you so much,” you responded, pure sarcasm.

And god damn, he had had enough of your fucking tone. “You are driving me insane!”

“I’m driving you insane?! Your family has been ruing my whole fucking life since March!”

“I didn’t want them here!”

“Well, I’m a human with actual empathy for others, so I logically knew that that was not an option!”

“You were going to leave my mother out of your precious sanctuary!”

“Because she’s abusive!” You shoved your hands into your hair and shook your head. “I’m done, absolutely done. I can’t have this conversation with you again. Your mother sucks, why is this news to you? I’m so sorry for trying to hold her accountable for her actions. Oh, but of course, every time someone tries to make any of you face the consequences for your actions, you act like it’s a hate crime!”

He glared. “I hate you.”

“I hate you!” you seethed.

“I can’t fucking believe I actually want to do this!” he turned away, scrubbing one of his hands down his face. “You make me so fucking crazy.”

“Do what?” you demanded. “What the hell are you talking about now? What god-awful thing have you decided to do?”

He made his way to the bed, tearing open the drawer to the bedside table on his side. He was muttering quickly under his breath and even if his speech hadn’t been so hurried, it was quiet enough that you had no chance of hearing anything.

It was silent for several moments before he turned back to you and threw something on the bed. He gestured to it then crossed his arms over his chest.

Since your bed was a mess of dark blankets, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to be seeing. You stood, carefully stepping your way out of the present-wrapping station you had created and neared the bed. You stopped dead in your tracks when you saw a tiny black box against the mattress.

You looked back at him, eyes wide, pleading. No…no, that was not happening. He wasn’t actually…

“Marry me.”

“What?!”

He actually seemed surprised by your reaction. He leaned over, snatched the box off the bed, and stomped back to you. “Marry me.”

“You’ve lost it,” you accused. “You’re actually literally insane. You need to be committed!”

“Yes, it’s insane that I want to marry you but for some fucking reason, I do!”

“Oh, my god, Ransom!” You slapped the box out of his hands and that was just too much for him. “I’m not fucking marrying you, you’ve never even told me you love me!”

He hurriedly picked up the box, tossed it back onto the bed, and then grabbed you by your arms. “You’re seriously fucking bringing that up now?”

“What does that even mean?! Yes, I’m bringing it up now. You marry someone when you’re in love with them and since you haven’t said it after seven years, I understandably doubt your feelings for me.”

“You are such a fucking brat.”

“You’re a brat!” you yelled, more exasperated than you’d ever felt. “You’re such a fucking entitled brat! There’s no other way to describe you. You just think I’m going to say yes and give you everything you want when you can’t even say you love me!”

“This is absolutely fucking ridiculous.”

“Just fucking say it, Ransom! If you love me, just say it!”

“You will not bully me into saying something that I don’t even deem as important.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Love is a word! Okay? It means nothing. My parents fucking say they love each other, then my dad fucked someone else. Neal and Joni said they loved each other every god damn second that they could but guess what. He still died. And don’t even get me started on Walt and Donna, their “love” created the next great serial killer of this wonderful fucking country!”

You were speechless, Ransom never talked to you like this. He never brought up the fucked-up aspects of his family that had consequently fucked him up as well.

He finally let you go when he realized you weren’t going to say anything, turning to walk away. You startled when he banged his hand against the wall. “God damn it!”

“Why do you make me say it to you then?” you demanded.

“I don’t know!” he admitted.

Again, you were both silent. You were thinking of the best way to respond, and you certainly couldn’t come up with that, but you knew what you wanted to say. “I’m not marrying you.”

He laughed.

It was a terrifying sound that gave you chills. He was going to kill you, you were 90% sure. As soon as he started walking toward you, you turned away to run to the bathroom, but Ransom had always known that would be your plan.

He effortlessly caught you and dragged you back to the bed. He shoved you down, pinned your arms to the mattress to stop you from hitting him, and slid his hips between your legs to make it impossible to kick him. “You’re going to marry me.”

“You’re going to force me to marry you?”

“I’ll drag you to the fucking courthouse if I have to.”

“The courthouse?!”

“I want to give you a wedding, the obscenely priced, overly dramatic show that I know you want. But if you won’t say yes, you leave me no other option.”

You rolled your eyes. “Then I guess that’s what you’ll have to do because my answer is no.”

Luckily for him, your outfit was not overly complex. He knew you weren’t wearing anything under your skirt because his hand was between your legs for most of dinner that night. You didn’t let him make you come because you were throwing a temper tantrum over the situation with the presents, but he was evidently not deterred.

After he moved your wrists together and kept you held there, he used his free hand to get his pants out of the way. In seconds, he was fully inside you and was offering you no time to adjust.

You realized why when you felt his hands moving over your head. Turning up that way, you saw him fumbling with the box. He was going to put the ring on your finger, and you had the sinking suspicion you might not be able to part with it if you saw it. But no, this was not happening.

You managed to get one of your hands free and yanked on his hair.

He kissed you because he had nothing left to do but bite your lip. Hard. He didn’t even falter when you cried out.

He was the idiot who let you keep your shoes on and you were limited on where you could get your heel. You did yoga, but you weren’t some contortionist. You had one option, and that was stabbing your heel into the side of his ass, and it was completely his own fault.

Finally, he pulled away and was forced to let you on top, which was the only advantage you needed. You smacked the box off the bed. However, now that he wasn’t overly concerned with holding you to the bed, he could pull your hair until you relented and fell back onto the bed.

He rolled over several times until you were both on the very edge, managing to kick your heels off in the process. He never stopped driving his hips into you, knowing that the only advantage he had was how weak you always got for his cock.

You could hear him reaching around blindly on the floor but with each brush of his skin against your clit, you got less scared about the idea that he would get the ring on you. You knew you didn’t want it. You knew you didn’t want to marry him and there was no way in hell you would willingly say yes, but fuck, you wanted to come.

You touched the side of his face and he finally looked back at you.

“Say yes.”

“Fuck you.” You pulled him down, your lips meeting his. There was blood in the kiss and your lip was throbbing, but you couldn’t care. Not when he was fucking you this violently, this angrily. He’d never fucked you like this before. You were no stranger to Ransom being a cruel lover, but there had never been so much pure wrath.

He had located the box, you could tell when his fingernails stopped clicking against the hardwood floor. You were panicking, not fully thinking through your plans, you just knew you needed to be able to reach the box. You threw all your weight at him and he was barely balanced as it was.

Despite his anger, he still had more of a mind than you—probably because he wanted something out of this, he needed to be mindful to get his way. He basically let you throw him on the floor because he worried about the results if he managed to fall on you.

Instead of retaliating any further, you grabbed his hand and brought it down to your center. He needed no further prompt than that, his thumb began to circle your clit as his other hand grabbed your hip and moved you along the length of his cock.

Where was the box? On his chest, he set this there because he was the cockiest fucking asshole in the world. He saw you eyeing it and smirked. “Go ahead, baby, take it, but you know I’ll fucking stop.”

That was unimaginable. Both hands reached for the one he had on your hip. You continued rolling your hips like it was the last time you were ever going to get to, dragging his hand up to your mouth.

“I swear if you fucking bite me,” he warned.

No, you weren’t going to do that. Yet. You choked yourself on his fingers, stifling all the pathetic sounds that were spilling out from you. Ransom simply enjoyed the show, enjoyed you fucking yourself on his cock, enjoyed you staring at him with those smoky, delicate eyes as you sucked on his fingers.

He stopped touching your clit once he felt you coming. He used that hand to hold you up on your knees and thrust his hips into you punishingly. You were dizzy, disastrously satiated and overstimulated. He finished with a shaking moan, a tell that he was trying to be quiet.

It wasn’t late, the family was undoubtedly aware of what was going on.

He turned down, staring at the place you were still connected. Ransom waited until his cum was spilling out of you and then yanked you back down to take his entire length. If there was anything that Ransom did love in this world it was filling you with his cum and watching it slowly pour out.

You only allowed him to do this several times before you finally bit down on his fingers. His hand lifted from your hip and tore your hair back hard enough that you opened your mouth to yell at him. When he could pull his fingers from your mouth, he wrapped that hand around your neck and pulled you flat down, your chest to his, the ring box trapped between you and him, digging painfully into your ribs.

He slammed you into the wall and you brought your legs up to hook around his waist. “Sorry, daddy, I didn’t mean to bite you.”

“After I get this ring on you, I’m gonna make you call your parents and tell them we’re engaged. And I’m gonna fuck you and make you call me daddy, just to remind your father how much of a daddy’s girl you used to be.”

“Why call when you could Facetime?”

“Then I’m gonna have you choking on my cock, baby, all they need to see is the ring on your finger.” The hand in your hair wedged its way between you and him and he located your clit once more.

It was too much but you knew Ransom wasn’t going to care. Begging him to stop would just provide him enjoyment and that was the last thing you wanted him to have. He kept his other hand around your neck because he knew you would say something that would annoy the fuck out of him if he let you.

When you were coming, his hips were moving once more and his hand abandoned your clit to move the box. You felt it sliding along your skin until it was gone and then you realized he wasn’t holding your neck anymore. He had your left hand held clutched in his and you felt the cold band he was sliding onto your finger.

You couldn’t do much, you had lost and you knew it. But you could leave a few more marks on him, so you latched your free hand onto his shoulder and dragged your nails down his back, and you bit down on his shoulder harder than you probably should have. He was a fucking animal, it seemed like he didn’t care at all. He just wanted to get the ring on you, and once he had, he grabbed your face and shoved you back.

You knew he was trying to get you to look at the ring, but you refused. Your eyes were slammed shut and nothing was going to change that.

He walked you to the bathroom, pulling out to bend you over the counter because he knew you would instinctually lift both hands up to the edge. Once you had, he shoved his cock back inside you and grabbed your jaw to angle your face in the direction of your left hand. “Look at it.”

“Fuck. You!” you growled.

He smacked your ass and even though you shrieked like he was murdering you, you did not open your eyes. He repeated this several times until his own hand was stinging almost unbearably. New plan.

He used his feet to kick your legs apart further and you felt a sharp, sudden slap against your cunt. Your eyes snapped open and a scream tore from your throat. He almost felt bad until he saw your attention on the ring. Was he an ass? Yes. But had he won? Also, yes.

That fucking asshole. His hand dropped to rub over your aching pussy, cock still moving at a painfully fast pace. Ransom was fucking furious and the only way he could take it out on you was by fucking you this way.

You couldn’t say you had any complaints about it. Tomorrow, when you were pretending you couldn’t stand to look at him, you would be bruised and sore everywhere that he had touched you. You would be wet all day thinking about how it happened.

The fucking ring. A huge cushion-cut diamond set in a halo on top of a diamond-encrusted band. It wasn’t simple, it sounded like it, but there was something so beautiful about it. Fuck, you wouldn’t let this ring go unless you were dead. Because he was right. You liked money and diamonds and you were materialistic, and this was from Ransom and you loved everything he gave you. And at the end of it all, even though you were saying no to him, he shoved that ring onto your finger because you were his and that was never going to change.

“Say yes.”

“No.”

“Fine.” He reached for your hand but stopped when he saw you make a fist.

“Try to take this ring from me and I will fucking kill you, Ransom.”

He scoffed. “Great, I’m gonna get my phone to Facetime your parents.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fuck you.”

“Not yet,” he pointed out. “First, I need to fuck your mouth, but then—”

From outside, the dogs started to bark.

You let your head fall onto the counter and groaned. “I fucking swear, every fucking time we’re fucking—”

He pulled out and rushed from the bathroom.

“Hey!” you called out. “What the hell?”

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered to himself as he searched for where he’d thrown his pants. When had he even gotten them off?

“Ransom?”

“Wait there,” he directed and then he dashed out of the room.

“Excuse you!” It wasn’t like you had much of an option, your legs weren’t working yet, and you were sweating and gross, and bruised and your lip was swollen and clearly bitten.

After several moments, he hadn’t come back. What the hell was he up to? You winced and hummed, made any noise that made you feel slightly better, as you tiptoed around the room looking for something to put on. You settled on one of his shirts and slowly, pathetically made your way downstairs. “Ransom?”

No response.

“Hello, anyone?” If someone else was around, you could force them to look for your boyfriend instead of having to do so yourself. But it seemed that you were out of luck on that.

The dogs were still barking like crazy, but why was no one else reacting? And why did Ransom care? He never paid attention to the dogs. You followed the sound of their barking, they had moved from the backyard to the side of the house. Which was odd because they never went there.

The garage? Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard Linda complaining about something, being constantly interrupted by Joni, Walt, and Ransom. Okay, again, unusual. He tended to ignore his mother, not argue with her.

His eyes widened when he saw you in the doorway. “No, no, this has to stop. I need everyone out of this room.”

“What the hell is going on?” you questioned.

“We don’t want to alarm you,” Donna began, “But—”

“Pretty sure he has drugs,” Meg claimed. “Like, hardcore drugs. Heroin, probably.”

Your eyes widened at him.

He glared. “I don’t have drugs, don’t be ridiculous.”

You gasped, pointing in the direction of the dogs still barking outside. “Those are German Shepherds, they’re drug dogs!”

Meg gasped, nodding at you with wide eyes. “I’m calling the cops.”

“Knock it off,” Linda scolded. “Ransom, show us what you’re hiding right now, or we’ll tear this room apart.”

He rolled his eyes, storming over to the corner of the room where a sheet was laid over something. “Fine, merry fucking Christmas.” He yanked it off one of the old kennels Linda used for her dogs when they were being trained.

There was a long list of things you were suspecting to see. Three sleeping puppies? No, they were nowhere on the list. And then you realized that was why he hadn’t gone to pick up Jacob’s present.

“You got me more puppies?” Linda inquired.

You, along with most of the room, glared at her.

“No,” Ransom snapped. “One is for Jacob and one’s for Meg.”

Both Jacob and Meg excitedly ran to the cage, startling the puppies awake. Much to Ransom’s dismay, the baby talk began without a second thought and the puppies were whining and making those small noises that always irritated him.

One for Jacob. One for Jacob. Then…the third. Oh, god.

He turned to you with a sigh.

“Yes,” you said, “Yes, yes, a million times yes!” You ran across the room, ignoring all your aching limbs and threw yourself into his arms. “And I’ll stop being so mean to you, and if you want to do this at the courthouse, I won’t even be upset because you’re so good to me and I’m awful to you. I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” he assured.

“No,” you protested. “It’s a million times not okay! I’m so sorry.” You pulled back to touch his face. “I’m really, really sorry. But I’m going to be the best wife in the world—”

“What?” Joni cut in.

That was the only thing in the world that could have drawn attention away from the puppies.

“Wife?” Linda repeated.

You checked with Ransom and he nodded. He had been looking forward to this. All you had to do was hold out your hand and Joni and Meg were excitedly shrieking. There hadn’t been a wedding in the family in so long.

“Wow,” Walt said. “Ransom? Engaged, showing commitment? This is the strangest year I’ve ever lived.”

Ransom rolled his eyes.

Before another word could be said, Linda collapsed onto the floor. Richard and Walt were the only ones who felt alarmed at the situation, while everyone else moved in closer to see the puppies.

“Which one is ours?” you wondered.

“Yours,” he corrected. “And the blonde one. She was the least yappy I could find on such short notice.”

Your eyebrows pulled together. “Where did you go?”

“The pound, obviously.”

“I fucking love you,” you blurted out, grabbing his face to pull him down into a kiss.

Once again, the room echoed with disgusted sounds.

“Which one’s mine?” Meg wondered.

“I couldn’t care less,” he admitted.

“I’m gonna name mine Hugh,” Jacob announced.

Ransom gave you an expectant look.

“I love you?” you tried.

“Gonna need a lot more than that.” He picked you up and because you knew Ransom wasn’t going to accept any kind of attitude from you for a very long time, you hooked your legs and arms around him and willingly went.

“I’ll take care of your dog until you guys are done being gross!” Meg promised.

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