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lurkingshan · 3 months ago

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Thoughts on ThamePo

I finally got some time this weekend, so I decided to go ahead and binge ThamePo, a show many of you seemed to enjoy and that quite a few people have told me is one of the more solid to come out of GMMTV's BL lineup in awhile. I told a few friends I would share thoughts when I watched it. Let’s go!

The TL, WR: I had a fun time watching this show and agree it managed to avoid a lot of GMMTV shows' worst pitfalls, but I also found the writing around the core plot to be an inconsistent mess. I'll break down the good, the bad and the huh from my perspective, so only read on if you care to know. Disclaimer: I am not a LYKN fan and in fact knew almost nothing about them before watching this.

The Good

The show looks fantastic. As soon as I turned it on I said "is this a Parbdee production?!" And it sure was. It seems GMMTV picks one BL a year that it's willing to actually fund high production values for, and ThamePo was the lucky winner of this round. It was quite a startling contrast having just watched My Golden Blood.

The flirting between Thame and Po in their talking stage was a lot of fun. I don't think it made me swoon quite as hard as some of you, but I was charmed. Is memorizing someone's phone number the new height of romance?

Drake and Sammy were here! And looking cute! I was happy every time they showed up.

Nano's colorful sweaters. I want every single one.

All of episode 10, which was my personal favorite of the show. It was the only episode where I felt like they had a strong episodic plot and theme that they executed well and that showed a realistic sequence of events around how idols are treated by their fans.

Baifern learned something about how to love and support her idols without crossing boundaries. This girl made me so uncomfortable for the whole show and I was glad they had her realize she was wrong and speak directly into the camera about it. GMMTV owed us that after the disastrous handling of this issue in Only Boo. Plus, Baifern growing meant I could enjoy the absolute comedy of her reaction to finding out who Mr. B was. Ciize is so funny.

Noble idiocy was given the respect it deserves: none.

I liked the resolution for the romance, and that ultimately what Thame and Po wanted was just an ordinary relationship where they could spend time together and pursue their careers on their own terms. It was wonderfully straightforward and low drama.

Contra GMMTV's usual pattern, this show's strongest run was its last four episodes, and I actually thought the finale was strong given the story they had set up for themselves. I appreciated that rather than indulge in the fantasy ending of Only Boo, MARS had to suffer real consequences for choosing their personal lives and orchestrating a breach of contract. They had to reckon with the fact that being idols was directly at odds with the way they wanted to live, and make a choice. Kudos to the show for that.

The Bad

It feels like this script was written by someone who doesn't really understand the idol industry or how anything works. Much of the plot for MARS and the business machinations of managing them was nonsensical and contra how idols are actually managed in the industry. It was extra jarring to then cast a real idol group and have them act out this weird incorrect version of their reality.

Relatedly, the writing for Pemika was all over the place. We are supposed to see her as a smart businesswoman who knows what's best for their careers even as she is very unkind to them as humans, but the way she handled Thame throughout the show was ludicrous. First of all, it is the industry norm for idols to do solo work while staying in their group, so for her to insist on dismantling MARS so that Thame could go solo made no sense, and the entire plot hinged on this! It's not only bad artist management--she is deeply pissing off and damaging her relationship with her most important performer--it also just doesn't make sense from a revenue standpoint. Why kill MARS, a popular idol group with a large fanbase, when you could just negotiate with Thame for a solo album in exchange for another MARS album and keep both revenue streams? Pemika's approach was counterproductive. I was intrigued by what they tried to do with her in certain moments, but it didn't hang together because there were too many logic gaps.

On that note, I think the biggest problem with the way the MARS plot was constructed is that if they are already a successful group, most of the plot does not make any sense. Agencies don't destroy successful and profitable groups just for the hell of it, and if Thame is the leader of a successful group with a powerful fanbase he should have more power than the show implied. The whole story makes a lot more sense if MARS was struggling to break out and didn't actually have fans yet, but the show tried to have its cake and eat it, too.

This is a matter of personal preference, but I personally did not care for Thame's characterization as an extraordinarily selfless idol with no ego who only cared about his friends at the expense of his own career. Please, show. A little more nuance and complexity to his motivations would have been nice.

The whole subplot with Jun pretending to hit on Po was just stupid and I found it to be a very frustrating diversion that was mostly there to stall getting Thame and Po together. They already knew they liked each other and his interference did not accomplish anything except making me wonder why Thame considers that asshat his friend.

Must GMMTV continue to stab me in the heart by making me listen to the Last Twilight OST over and over again?? Write a new song!

On that note (look away stans), the music performances in this show were just unforgivably bad. I will not go into further detail so as to not hurt anyone's feelings (but you can come sit by me in the DMs if you want to talk shit).

The Huh

I don't understand why Thai idol dramas keep making getting recruited to Korea the standard. Not only is it deeply unrealistic to suggest that an industry already teeming with talent is eager to recruit middling talent from elsewhere, but if your goal is to promote the tpop industry, focus on tpop!

On top of the business plot not making sense, the way they presented the group and their roles was just strange. Idols all have to have baseline competency in singing, dancing, and rap--you don't have one member who does each like the show kept saying. I got confused every time the show reverted to this framing. Don't even get me started on the concept of Nano, the successful idol who *checks notes* doesn't know how to sing.

Let me not also forget that these are supposed to be famous idols, yet they are constantly casually hanging out in public spaces with no fans approaching them. Every time they sat around as a group in a park I wanted to scream.

Which of course leads me to my incredulity that so much of Thame and Po's flirtation happened in public, outside, in front of tons of onlookers, and somehow they were not spotted every time despite Thame being famous. As fucking if! The way the story ignored this reality for the first 2/3 of the show really undercut the final arc when they suddenly remembered idols can't date. And right after the group handled Pepper's scandal, Thame was back to holding Po's hand outside again. I felt like I was taking crazy pills.

I was also salty about Pepper directly encouraging Thame to pursue Po only to turn around the next episode and tell him idols can't date. Sir, what the fuck.

The whole thing with Mick was kind of a miss for me. They made a big deal about his incompetence in the first few episodes, then he functionally disappeared for half the show, then they revealed he was pretending to be bad at his job as some roundabout way of helping them, I guess? It was a half-baked idea poorly presented.

Since I mentioned Only Boo up top, it would be remiss of me not to mention that if ThamePo takes place in the same universe as the cameos imply, this plot makes even less sense because Moo already broke down this barrier and idols can now have boyfriends with no consequences! (Seriously though if you're gonna have them cameo at least let Moo speak I love that boy).

The show should not have been in the bubble. So much of the romance plot and the contrast between Pepper/Gam and Thame/Po would have been strengthened if their sexuality mattered.

Lastly, I'll just say that I found this plot a strange one if GMMTV's intent was to use the show as a vehicle to promote LYKN. The entire plot is that the agency thinks Thame is the only talented one and the rest of the group is holding him back, but he's a Good Person so he will stay with them anyway. If I was anyone else in LYKN I'd be side-eyeing this plot big time.

In conclusion: This was a fun binge but I am still waiting for the Thai idol BL of my dreams starring Daou and Offroad. I will write the goddamn script if I have to!

#thamepo #only boo #thai bl #shan shouts into the void

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oddyseye · 5 months ago

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What is Xenia?

Xenia is not just good manners. Xenia a test of character, and it's also a reflection of how the Greeks understood the relationship between humans and gods. Xenia was about more than offering food and shelter to travelers. It was a demonstration of how the gods governed human interactions and a reminder of the importance of hospitality as a virtue. The host was expected to offer protection, provisions, and shelter, often without asking the guest for any information or demanding any immediate return. The guest, in turn, was expected to be respectful, not to take advantage of the host's kindness, and to eventually offer something in return, though this could be more symbolic or reciprocal rather than transactional.

One of the key aspects of xenia was the idea that hosts could never know whether their guest might be a god in disguise. The gods were thought to frequently take on human forms to test mortals' hospitality. This divine oversight made it all the more important to treat every guest with respect, as any breach could bring dire consequences. This belief extended to travelers, strangers, and even those whose identities were unknown — showing hospitality was considered a moral obligation, an offering to the gods as much as to the human guest. While gifts were often involved, the true essence of xenia lay in the trust between the parties: the guest trusted the host to provide, and the host trusted the guest not to abuse their hospitality.

Violating xenia was one of the gravest offenses a person could commit. The punishment for such violations wasn’t just a matter of breaking a social norm; it was seen as a violation of divine order.

Xenia, in Homer's world, is a divine law.

The gods themselves are said to be the ultimate enforcers of xenia, so you'd better believe that disrespecting hospitality could get you in serious trouble. It's not just offering your guest a meal; it's offering protection, shelter, and a safe passage. If you don't uphold that, you're basically tempting the gods to mess with you, and they love doing that, trust me.

Remember when Telemachus first lands in Pylos? Nestor and his family treat him with the utmost respect, offering food, shelter, and stories (and Telemachus finds himself a boyfriend even LMFAOO). This hospitality isn't just a nice gesture; it's a social obligation that reinforces both the personal and communal ties within Greek society. Everyone's in this together, and they all have a part to play. Telemachus' growing appreciation for this custom reflects his coming-of-age journey, as he sees first-hand what it means to be both the host and the guest in the grand game of survival and honor.

For those who are yet to read the Odyssey, the scene basically goes like this:

“You’re the son of my old war buddy, Odysseus? Welcome! Come in, sit down, have food, have shelter, don’t ask questions- Here, my son is your age, share a bed with him :3 !!”

It's the perfect example of how xenia isn't just about being polite; it's about honor (excluding that last part lol). It's about building trust with someone you don't know based on a shared understanding that we're all part of this cosmic social contract. And Telemachus? He's learning that he's part of a much bigger world than just his little island. But he knew how to respect xenia even before he left Ithaca. We see this when he invites Mentor (Athena in disguise) into his home and offers him the munchies before even asking for the stranger's name. He's practically the golden boy of xenia.

And now let's talk about my favorite group of people — the suitors.

Honestly, they're just...the worst at xenia. Like, they didn't even try. Antinous? This guy is the poster child for everything you should NOT do in literally ALL of Ancient Greece. He straight-up mocks Odysseus, who's dressed as a beggar, by insulting him and telling him to leave, throwing a chair at him, and...shocker, he's the first to die. Who's surprised?

Xenia is a two-way street. It's not just what you get — it's what you give. You can't take all the food, drink all the wine, and then act like the host is just there for your enjoyment. You've got to offer something back. That's the whole point of xenia. And sure, you might not have gold and riches to give, but you can show gratitude. You can at least not insult the person whose house you're eating in.

Now, there's one suitor who stands out in the worst possible way, and I'm talking about Eurymachus. You know, this guy isn't just disrespectful, he's an outright traitor to Odysseus. Eurymachus was not just another arrogant man in Odysseus' hall; he was someone who, as a child, had been a guest in Odysseus' home. He was one of those who had been taken care of by Odysseus, fed and treated well. This relationship makes his betrayal all the more significant because it wasn't merely about a stranger dishonoring a host. It was about someone who should have known better, someone who had once been treated as part of the family, turning on Odysseus when the opportunity arose. Eurymachus' betrayal was far worse because it was not simply a violation of xenia; it was a betrayal of trust. He had been in Odysseus' house as a boy, and now he was trying to usurp everything Odysseus had built.

Then, of course, there's Amphinomus. The one suitor who has a tiny bit of decency. He's like, "Hey, maybe we shouldn't kill the beggar and the prince, maybe we should be decent human beings...Please??" And yet he's still part of the whole disgusting group. He doesn't even try to follow xenia; he just doesn't get as bad as the rest of them. So congrats, you're the “least bad” one. But that's like being the least offensive stain on a white shirt. You're still part of the mess. I still think he should have been spared and I would have kissed his cheek for it, but whatever.

The suitors were trash hosts because they didn't respect the rules of hospitality. They took, they didn't give back, and they thought they could get away with it because they were powerful. Well, guess what? No one's untouchable. Not even rich, entitled jerks like Antinous. There's a reason those guys met their end the way they did, and it's because they broke the most sacred rule in Greek society.

Because xenia is not just guarded by the gods, but by Zeus himself.

Zeus' disinterest in Odysseus' personal life is clear, but when it comes to the suitors? That's a whole different story. While he might not always be in Odysseus' corner, Zeus has no tolerance for anyone who dares to violate the divine laws of xenia — particularly when it involves the destruction of a sacred home. I will remind you, Odysseus was a KING. The suitors are not just disrespectful; they're an insult to the gods. And when Telemachus prays for their downfall, and Zeus takes notice, and he responds. His action is swift and dramatic, a sign to all that the gods are paying attention. The deadliest omen Zeus could send is unleashed — two eagles, fierce and fighting, tear at each other over the heads of the people. It's a promise that the suitors' time is running out. What's key here, though, is that Telemachus' prayers don't fall on deaf ears. Zeus doesn't just show his wrath through omens; he actively watches over Telemachus on his journey. When Telemachus sets sail, the sea itself is dangerous and unpredictable, but Zeus protects him, ensuring that he does not meet the same fate as many other men who venture into the vast unknown. In a way, Telemachus becomes the embodiment of the gods' will. He is protected, guided, and tested.

Zeus may be unpredictable, but when it comes to the suitors, he is clear. They've broken the divine laws of hospitality, and their fate is sealed. It's not just Odysseus who will return to Ithaca — it's Telemachus, now under the gods' protection, who will be key in restoring order. The suitors, as arrogant as they are, might have thought they could escape the laws of the gods. But when Zeus speaks, no mortal can escape divine justice. I would like to add that Penelope was not exactly the host. Penelope, despite being a queen, isn't really seen as the one holding the hospitality duties. It's Telemachus who's stepping up to do the job. He takes on the responsibility that comes with being the son of Odysseus. He is the man of the house, making him the proper host (no matter how unwanted these guests were). This is why Penelope is allowed to, you know, stay locked inside her room all day. Telemachus is not. As the host, he has to keep the suitors in check. Penelope's ability to host is muted because of the chaos the suitors bring, and because it's not her job in the grand scheme of things. She's playing a supporting role now, keeping the suitors entertained with her wit and tricks, maintaining the appearance of a woman in control, while Telemachus is out here actually doing the hosting duties. Had Penelope been the one to oversee the hospitality, Eurymachus could have been spared. Why? Because the suitors who gave Penelope gifts (and I'm talking about real, physical, valuable offerings) would have been seen as showing respect to Odysseus through her, and the gods would have intervened. If Penelope had shown Eurymachus even the slightest favor, Odysseus would've been in the position to forgive him. The gods might've even compelled him to spare Eurymachus for the sake of their bond. But nope. That's not what's going down here. The suitors aren't just disrespecting Penelope; they're disrespecting Telemachus, who is the true host of the household. So their fate is sealed the moment they disrespect him.

Amphinomus, for all his faults, wasn't totally awful. He had the sense to not join in on the worst of the disrespect. He even suggested that maybe they should go easy on Telemachus and the beggar. If Amphinomus had left, like, actually left, as per Odysseus' advice, he could have been spared. Why? Because his mistake was one of passive disrespect. He wasn't actively mocking Telemachus, but he wasn't doing enough to step up and stop the madness either. In the end, when he refused to leave, he sealed his fate. Because as long as he stayed in that house, violating xenia by staying after the laws were already broken, he was part of the problem. So yeah, the suitors had it coming. And if any of them had actually understood the sacredness of their role as guests, they might have seen the signs, repented, and avoided the mess they got themselves into. But as it is, none of them learned the lesson, and in the end, their disrespect for Telemachus (and Odysseus once he returned) led to their doom. At the heart of xenia was the idea of balance: a guest should not overstay their welcome, and a host should not neglect their duty to care for their guest. Both sides of the exchange were expected to uphold their part of the contract to ensure the social harmony that the concept of xenia represented. Whether it was a nobleman offering shelter to a wandering traveler or a stranger arriving at a city and receiving shelter from a local family, xenia was meant to bind individuals to a larger, sacred social order that ensured mutual respect and protection. Those who followed the rules of xenia were seen as civilized, as they respected the basic social contracts that allowed society to function. On the other hand, those who violated xenia were labeled barbaric, their behavior seen as a sign of moral decay. Xenia isn't just about food and shelter; it's about trust, honor, and not getting struck down by the gods. Offer respect or expect divine consequences. Hospitality isn't just a rule, it's a cosmic law. And the gods love enforcing it.

#xenia #ancient greece #greek mythology #greek gods #the odyssey #epic the musical #odysseus #telemachus #zeus

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sssssssssw234459 · 3 months ago

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Rhaenyra is the legitimate heir in a feudal monarchy

My history classes are finally useful lol. Anyway, this is kinda short, simplified and with wikipedia as my main source because honestly I don't feel like getting into a full argument about it as it is just a fictional world and all. But I needed to write this because there is a misunderstanding about how feudal monarchy works (although technically there are some major differences between Westeros and medieval Europe tbh). Also my english kinda sucks sorry.

To be simple: oaths are very VERY important in a feudal monarchy. We see the apparition of feudal monarchies around the 9th century after a few kingdoms' territorial expansions in Europe. The main issue of such large territory is that it required soldiers everywhere to protect it, and these soldiers needed a "leader" to defend the territories the king couldn't protect himself, someone to make sure the new conquered territories would stay under the king's rule. However, to make sure these new "leaders" would stay loyal to the king, they had to pledge an oath to him, thus becoming his vassals. Later, these vassals will themselves have vassals under them that have to swear oaths to them as well. The whole feudal hierarchy mainly existed through oaths as it is based on that the king could give his vassals lands, territories and castles (ect...) to protect.

"The obligations and corresponding rights between lord and vassal concerning the fief form the basis of the feudal relationship.[1]" (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Feudalism)

"Before a lord could grant land (a fief) to someone, he had to make that person a vassal. This was done at a formal and symbolic ceremony called a commendation ceremony, which was composed of the two-part act of homage and oath of fealty. During homage, the lord and vassal entered into a contract in which the vassal promised to fight for the lord at his command, whilst the lord agreed to protect the vassal from external forces. Fealty comes from the Latin fidelitas and denotes the fidelity owed by a vassal to his feudal lord. "Fealty" also refers to an oath that more explicitly reinforces the commitments of the vassal made during homage; such an oath follows homage.[35] Once the commendation ceremony was complete, the lord and vassal were in a feudal relationship with agreed obligations to one another. The vassal's principal obligation to the lord was to provide aid or military service." (Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Feudalism#:~:text=Classic%20feudalism,-See%20also%3A%20Feudalism&text=In%20broad%20terms%20a%20lord,of%20service%20to%20the%20lord.)

"It was sworn between two people, the feudal subject or liegeman (vassal) and his feudal superior (liege lord). The oath of allegiance was usually carried out as part of a traditional ceremony in which the liegeman or vassal gave his lord a pledge of loyalty and acceptance of the consequences of a breach of trust. In return, the liege lord promised to protect and remain loyal to his vassal." (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fealty)

In the United Kingdoms:

"The oath also specifies that this same oath to the king, is equally sworn to his "heirs and successors", in the plural, rather than a single heir and successor (...) in the event that any one of them should accede to the throne. Thus, the pledge of loyalty to the Crown made in the oath does not end at the death of the current monarch. (...) The oath of allegiance was performed to King Edgar (c. 944–8 July 975).[4] The oath was certainly in use as of the date of John, King of England's Magna Carta, signed on 15 June 1215." (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oath_of_Allegiance_(United_Kingdom))

In a Fire and Blood:

"Disregarding the precedents set by King Jaehaerys in 92 and the Great Council in 101, Viserys declared his daughter, Rhaenyra, to be his rightful heir, and named her Princess of Dragonstone. In a lavish ceremony at King’s Landing, hundreds of lords did obeisance to the Realm’s Delight as she sat at her father’s feet at the base of the Iron Throne, swearing to honor and defend her right of succession." (page 393).

"The ancient master of coin, who had served King Viserys for the majority of his reign, and his grandfather, Jaehaerys the Old King, before him, reminded the council that Rhaenyra was older than her brothers and had more Targaryen blood, that the late king had chosen her as his successor, that he had repeatedly refused to alter the succession despite the pleadings of Queen Alicent and her greens, that hundreds of lords and landed knights had done obeisance to the princess in 105 AC, and sworn solemn oaths to defend her rights." (page 430).

These are the same kind of vows the Kingsguard swear:

"Then as now, the Sworn Brotherhood of the Kingsguard consisted of seven knights, men of proven loyalty and undoubted prowess who had taken solemn oaths to devote their lives to defending the king’s person and kin." (page 428).

The "solemn oaths" term is used in both cases for Rhaenyra's inheritance and Kingsguard's vows, which is very interesting.

Anyway, it is mentioned two times the lords and landed knights swore an oath to her. From a feudal perspective, Rhaenyra is a legitimate heir. For people who want to say "oh but Tyland said he had swore no such oaths!" 1) oaths like that are supposed to be on behalf of your house and doesn’t cease to exist if your king dies, 2) technically Tyland is only the brother of the Lord of Casterly Rock anyway so it makes sense it’s not up to him to swear the oath in a feudal monarchy, though it still applies to him.

Anyway, in a feudal monarchy the king is powerful but he doesn't even have all powers… so he does need the vassals' approval. In Fire and Blood, all the lords who are vassals to the king Viserys I swore an oath to Rhaenyra and recognised her as heir. She is legitimate.

#fire and blood #f&b #rhaenyra targaryen #team black #anti team green

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lumaxmayclair · 2 years ago

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TIL that UK Labour law is so anti Union that according to this Variety article, in general you will have to continue to work on projects under Equity* contract even if you're a SAG-AFTRA member otherwise you can face consequences such as dismissal or even being sued for breach of contract.

I'm sharing this in case there are questions about why this or that actor seems to continue to work during the strike. We don't know their contract and if it's Equity instead of SAG, they're not scabbing. It's not their fault, it's the fault of the studios in the US and the government in the UK.

*Equity is the UK version of SAG-AFTRA

#sag strike #sag aftra #sag aftra strike #sag aftra strong #wga strong #wga strike #hmm in adding these tags i admit idk #how this affects the writers #im guessing tho that its probably the same #equity #equity uk #equity union #uk labour laws #zi's #100 #500 #1k

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krirebr · 1 year ago

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More Than This 4

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~6.1k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, Linda being Linda, a panic attack, p in v sex, sex in maybe not the best mindset, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: I thought this was gonna be a short one. 😂

Gigantic thanks as always to @paperweight91 who helped me figure out what the problem was when I was really struggling to feel inspired on this one, and then later on when the narrative took a bit of a turn that I wasn't expecting, she helped me navigate it and come out the other side. Chelsea, you continue to be the very best!

And an additional hat tip to @thezombieprostitute, who left a comment on the last part that inspired part of Linda's visit here. Thanks, dear!!

Unsurprisingly probably, this is another sad one. But I hope it'll be worth it!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You’ve reached the phone of Steve Rogers. Please leave a message after the beep.

“Hey, Steve. It’s me. Again. Your sister. Um, shit. Yeah, you’re at work now, aren’t you? Sorry, I still haven’t gotten used to the time difference. I got your texts, and, uh, everything is fine. I’m– I’m doing good. But I miss you. And it’d be nice to hear your voice. But I’m fine, I’m good, I promise. I just– I’ll try again soon. Love you. Ok. Bye.”

You hung up and sighed, setting your phone down beside you. You hadn’t actually spoken to Steve since you’d gotten on the plane a week ago. Which was fine. You were doing fine. He’d texted you. And he was busy. You knew he was. It’d be easier, you thought if you were too. But everything had been unpacked. The housekeeper took care of all the upkeep of the house and you got the distinct impression that she didn’t much care for your “help,” so now when she was here you mostly tried to stay out of her way. Even Lola was getting tired of going for walks around the neighborhood.

You’d barely seen your husband since your disastrous attempt at sex. He’d been avoiding you, leaving early in the morning and coming home late at night. You hadn’t talked about what happened. You’d barely talked about anything.

You looked at your laptop on the coffee table and exited out of the WebMD entry on erectile dysfunction. That wasn’t helping. With nothing to do and no one to talk to, all you could do was think about what would happen to you if you couldn’t get Ransom to fuck you. If you didn’t get pregnant. You still hadn’t seen the contract and weren’t sure what the actual terms were, but you knew the consequences would be nothing good.

Steve had had an aunt on his mother’s side who’d been found in breach of contract and had her marriage dissolved. You never really knew her, but you remembered how Joseph talked about her, about the desperate arrangement she’d eventually had to settle for, the sadness in Steve’s eyes whenever she came up. That wouldn’t be you, couldn’t be you. You knew you wouldn’t even start to feel secure in your arrangement until that part of the contract had been fulfilled. You just needed to figure out how.

But, dwelling on it wasn’t helping. Googling possible causes of Ransom’s issue wasn’t helping (although it was better than listening to the voice in your head that wouldn’t stop telling you that he just didn’t want to touch you). You needed something to do. Back in LA, you’d worked part-time at an art gallery Steve had introduced you to. You’d mostly answered the phones and greeted people as they came in, but you’d liked it. There had to be something like that available in Boston. And at least trying to find it would give you something to focus on.

So you lost yourself in compiling a list of galleries you could try to contact, sitting on the couch with Lola curled up beside you. When Ransom came home late that night, that’s how he found you. You looked up, startled when he came in the door, and found a similar expression on his face.

“Oh,” he said. “You’re still up,” as he took off his coat and shoes.

“Yeah,” you said, not knowing what else to say.

He nodded and came as far as the beginning of the living area, then stopped and just stared at you for a moment. You waited for whatever it was he was going to say. Then, finally, “How was your day?”

“It was fine,” then, gathering your courage and hoping you wouldn’t be shut down, you added, “I started to look for a job.”

“Oh,” he looked mildly surprised. “Do you have any experience?”

You pushed down the tinge of hurt that bubbled up at that. The question wasn’t completely uncalled for. Many of your friends back home had never worked a day in their lives. But you couldn’t help feeling a little defensive when you answered, “Yes, I worked at the front desk of an art gallery back home. I liked it. I’d like to find something like that here.”

Ransom hummed thoughtfully as he nodded. “Well,” he said, looking off into the corner of the room, “uh, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help with that.”

“Oh,” you said, too surprised to say anything else for a moment. You’d been sure he’d say no. You weren’t quite sure what to do with an offer of help, of all things. And you would need his help if you got the job, with a way to get yourself there at the very least. But you didn’t want to jinx it or push things too far right now, so you just said, “Thank you. I will.” And then, “Uh, how was your day?”

“It was fine,” he said, stiffly. “Busy, I’ve been really busy. And I’m, uh, I’m exhausted now. So I’m going to go straight to bed. Feel free to stay up as late as you want. Obviously.” And just like that, he turned on his heel and left the room.

You should’ve gone after him, maybe. Made him talk to you about it. Or just taken your clothes off while he was talking (although that hadn’t worked the first time). Something. But you were tired too and you just didn’t have it in you, as important as you knew it was.

So, you gave it about half an hour before you went to bed yourself, going through your nighttime routine as quietly as you could in the ensuite. When you went back out to the bedroom, you found Lola already on the bed, curled up against Ransom’s side. You stopped, wondering if you should move her. She’d slept in the bed with you for the last four nights, ever since that awful night, and Ransom hadn’t said anything about making her stop. And he obviously hadn’t noticed her snuggling up next to him, so maybe it was fine. You climbed in next to her and wrapped your body around hers, ignoring the way it made you brush up against Ransom, too.

The next afternoon, you were busying yourself with trying to reorganize your walk-in closet, when you heard someone moving around downstairs. It wasn’t one of the housekeeper’s days, so you made sure you had your phone on you and started down the stairs with caution.

When you got about halfway down, you saw Linda standing in the middle of the living room. “Linda!” you exclaimed, unable to hide your shock at her standing before you. “Ransom didn’t tell me you’d be stopping by. I didn’t know you had a key.”

“Of course, I do, I’m his mother. And I’m the one who set him up with this house.” She cast a judgemental eye on the room. “I see you’ve been moving some things around.”

“Oh,” you said, now at the bottom of the stairs and looking around a little worriedly. You’d tried so hard to disrupt as little as possible. “Not much, I don’t think. Just a little to make room for my own things.”

Linda hummed in a way that made you want to shrink inside yourself. “Well,” she said and held out a gift bag. “I brought you a little something.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, forcing a smile as you took the gift, slightly afraid of what might be in it. You glanced inside, moving aside the tissue paper to find about a dozen pregnancy tests. “Oh,” you said, afraid if you said anything more you might burst into tears. It was fine it was fine it was fine.

“Just want you to be prepared,” she said.

“Thank you,” you forced out. “You really shouldn’t have.”

“Well,” she clapped her hands together, “why don’t you get us some coffee?”

You forced another smile, trying to cover the panic you felt that she was staying. “Yes, of course.” You took your time getting the coffee prepared in the kitchen. Once it was ready, and you had the cream and sugar and everything else gathered on a tray, you couldn’t delay it any longer and brought everything out to the living room. Linda helped herself to a mug, finishing it to her liking as you did the same. You caught, though, the little face she made at her first sip. That was fine, it was her son’s fucking coffee.

“This is nice,” she said, in that particular syrupy tone of voice she had that meant she was trying too hard to seem friendly. “Just the two of us. Overdue.”

You made yourself nod. “Yes,” you said, “It’s great to see you.”

“I was talking to Ransom this morning, and he mentioned that you’re looking for a job?”

“Oh,” you started, something about her tone making you cautious, “yeah, you know, something to keep me occupied. I used to work at an art gallery and I’m hoping I can do something similar here.”

She took a sip of her coffee, then pursed her lips. “Well, that sounds lovely. But are you sure it’s a good idea with a baby on the way?”

You did your best to chuckle, trying to keep things light as you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. “I’m not pregnant yet, Linda.”

“Maybe not, but you will be soon. And do you really think it’s fair to get a job when you’re just going to have to quit in a few weeks anyway?”

You stared at her confused, your own coffee now forgotten. “We don’t know exactly when I’ll get pregnant.” You may not care for Ransom much, but you certainly weren’t going to discuss his possible impotence with his mother. Or the fact that he just didn’t want you. “And I don’t understand why I would have to quit once I got pregnant anyway.”

“Well, I’m sure Ransom won’t want you working once you’re pregnant. He’ll want you to focus on growing his child and getting everything prepared for the baby.”

You felt the air go out of your lungs. All you could do was gape at her. What? You flashed back to the wedding, to Harlan telling you how good you were going to be for Ransom. To your mother telling you to keep him happy. To Joseph’s speech barely even mentioning you. It was like you as a person didn’t exist anymore. You were just here for him. Your whole life set up just to cater to him. You felt the tears starting to gather in your eyes, but you would not cry in front of this woman.

“But,” you started, “you worked all through your pregnancy and Ransom’s childhood, didn’t you? I don’t understand why I wouldn’t be able to, too.”

“Oh,” she said, as she gave you the most condescending look you might have ever received, “I see. You think you and I are the same. Sweetheart, no. I helped my father choose my arraignment. I came into it with my own money, having already established myself. A real career, not some silly part-time gallery job. I’m the one who supports Richard. I’ve always had the power. I was never you. And you will never be me. So, how about you let Ransom take good care of you and you focus on the things that you can give him, hmm?”

You just stared at her, feeling suddenly numb. What the fuck were you supposed to say to that? You’d only spoken to her a few times and every single time she’d made you feel so small, insignificant, weak.

She placed her mug on the table and stood up. “I’ll get out of your hair now, dear, but this was so nice. We’ll have to do it again soon.” She stood in front of you as all you could do was sit and stare. She raised her perfectly manicured eyebrow at you and you finally realized that she wanted you to stand. You robotically did so, still so numb from this short visit. As soon as you were upright, she gave you a stiff hug and patted you on the shoulder. “I’m so glad we were able to put this silly job idea to bed,” she said. “I’ll show myself out. Have a good rest of your day, darling.” And then she was gone and you were left standing alone in the middle of Ransom’s living room.

You spent the rest of the afternoon running Linda’s visit through your mind, over and over. The thing you couldn’t understand was why, if Ransom was so against you working, he hadn’t said anything about it last night. Wouldn’t it have been easier to just tell you no right away, rather than siccing his mother on you the next day? Why would he say yes? Was it just so that he could look like the good guy before he had his mom do his dirty work for him? Was he really that much of a chickenshit?

When you got to a point when you thought you might actually drive yourself crazy if you thought about it anymore, you got your phone out and tried, once again, to call Steve.

You’ve reached the phone of Steve Rogers. Please leave a message after the beep.

You wanted to scream. You were so fucking tired of talking to his machine. Every time you thought you couldn’t feel more alone, you just fell deeper.

“Hey, Steve. Um, I’d really love it if you could call me back. I know you’re busy. I don’t mean to– I’m sorry. I just– I just really miss you. I’d really like to talk to you. I love you. Ok. Bye.”

You hung up and then just stared at your black phone screen for a moment. You couldn’t just sit in the house anymore. “Lola!” you called out into the house, not sure of where she’d gotten off to. “Want to go for a walk?”

Ransom didn’t come home that night, the absolute fucking coward.

When you woke up the next day, you couldn’t tell if Ransom’s side of the bed had been slept in or not. Lola was sprawled across it, taking up much more space than her tiny body would indicate. You decided not to dwell on it.

There was a text message from Steve, sent in the middle of the night.

Hey chipmunk. I’m so sorry I keep missing your calls. I’ve been absolutely slammed this week. I’ll try to call you soon. Hope you’re doing ok. I miss you so much. Love you.

You couldn’t stop staring at it. The childhood nickname combined with the distance the message represented made your whole chest ache.

As the day wore on, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. The housekeeper didn’t want you around. All the unpacking was done. You couldn’t look for a job. You tried to read but you couldn’t focus. You called Steve but he didn’t pick up, again, and you just didn’t have it in you to leave another message.

You felt like you sleepwalked through the whole day, so when Ransom walked in in the evening, you were startled to realize the day was gone.

Lola lept off your lap on the couch and ran to him as soon as he came in the door, hopping up and down and prancing in front of him. He froze, his scarf halfway off his neck and caught in his hands. “What is it doing?” he asked, turning to you, absolutely bewildered.

“I– I don’t know,” you said, staring at your dog. It was stupid, you knew it was so stupid, but you couldn’t help the frisson of betrayal that ran through you. She was supposed to be yours. She was supposed to love you, only you. And now she was consorting with the enemy. And you were jealous of a dog. But what else did you have? Your husband wouldn’t touch you, your brother wouldn’t call you back, and now your dog loved someone else. It all made you want to sob. “I think she’s happy to see you.”

He looked at you aghast. “Why?!”

“I don’t know,” you said again. “Lola,” you called, but she was still hopping up and down in front of Ransom. “Lola!” She turned at your stern tone and reluctantly ran back to you. You picked her up and cradled her in your arms. “Sorry,” you said to Ransom, then quietly murmured, “What were you doing?” into her fur. You glanced at the time. “You’re home early.”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, somewhat sheepish. “Finally got out of work at a decent hour.”

“Oh.” It felt so weird to have him here. “I guess we could have dinner. Have you eaten?”

“Uh, no. Dinner sounds great.” He finally came out of the entryway and began digging through his fridge, pulling out two of the pre-prepared meals his housekeeper kept there.

As he put them in the microwave, all you could do was stare at him. You’d had the last twenty-four hours to stew in your anger and sadness and now all you really felt was tired. There was nothing you could do. It was his house, his family that held the strings. You were far from home with no one to back you up. He’d seen to it that you didn’t have a job to fall back on. All you could do was go along with what he wanted. The only thing you could do was make your place here more secure. As he bent down to get a plate out of the microwave, you blurted out, “Why won’t you fuck me?”

He straightened up quickly and stared at you. “What the fuck?!”

“I just–” you tried, “Has that happened before? Your problem. I’ve read that as men get older that happens sometimes.”

“I’m thirty-five, not fucking sixty. What the actual fuck?” He loudly dropped the plate down in front of you. “Eat your fucking food. I’m not talking about this.”

You sullenly started in on your food, it was pasta. You barely tasted it. You needed to keep talking about this, but doing it while he was angry probably wasn’t the best approach.

He heated up the other plate and then joined you, taking a seat next to you at the island. You both ate in silence, until he finally said, “I just don’t think this is anything we need to rush into. We have plenty of time.”

You looked up at him. Of course, he wouldn’t think there was any rush. Of course, he didn’t have any personal stakes in you getting pregnant. Of course, he could forbid you from working but then deny you the one thing that would give you something to fucking do here. Something that would take a portion of your anxiety away. “We don’t actually,” you growled. “We have no idea how long it’s going to take me to get pregnant.”

“You keep saying that, but I just– I think rushing it would be a mistake. We have more time than you think and putting this off until we know each other better is a good idea.”

And suddenly, you saw red. Every single fucking thing was on his terms. His hometown, his family, his house, his things, his staff, his single car, his timetable. “And how are we supposed to do that, huh?” you yelled, standing up now. “When you’re gone before I wake up and you cross your fingers I’m in bed before you get home. If you even come home! When exactly is this getting to know each other supposed to happen?!”

“Hey!” he yelled, standing up as well. Lola ran upstairs at the sound of his stool scraping against the hardwood. “Calm the fuck down! What is the big fucking deal if we wait a few months rather than doing it right now?”

“Because the longer we wait the less time I’ll have to get pregnant! And the more likely it’ll be that it won’t happen and we’ll nullify the contract and our marriage will be dissolved. And you’ll be fucking fine! You’ll still be your grandfather’s and your mother’s heir. Nothing will happen to you. But I’ll be sent back to Joseph. I’ll have to accept a second arrangement with anyone who will take me. I’ll– I’ll–” You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t breathe. The room was getting smaller, pressing in on you, and you couldn’t breathe.

You sank down to the floor and suddenly Ransom was in front of you. He called your name, but it was hard to process it. He called it again and you made eye contact with him. “You’re having a panic attack. You’re ok. You’re alright. I’m here.” He was speaking so quietly, so gently. “I’m here to help you, ok? I’m going to stay with you.” You nodded as best you could. “Can I touch you?” he asked, and you immediately shook your head. “Ok,” he said quickly, “that’s fine. That’s ok. I won’t touch you. You’re breathing too fast, ok? You need to slow down. Can you breathe with me? Come on, do it with me.” And then he breathed in slowly and you tried to match his rhythm. In and out, in and out, so slowly. At some point, he started counting. In 1 2 3 4 5. Out 1 2 3 4 5. Eventually, you could do it on your own, without him coaching you.

You spent a few more minutes on the floor with him, you both just breathing at each other. Then finally you were able to find your words. “I’m ok,” you said. “I’m alright. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” he said, still so gentle. “Nothing at all. Can you get up?” You nodded and he helped you up. “Are you hungry?” he asked and you shook your head. “Ok, I’ll clean the food up later. Can I help you upstairs?” You nodded and he, very carefully, put his hand on your back, so slowly that you had all the time in the world to pull away. His touch was warm, soft. His touch was always so soft with you.

He guided you to the bedroom where Lola was already on the bed, shaking steadily and looking at you with big, fearful eyes. You climbed on and curled up next to her. “You’re ok,” you whispered to her. “I’m sorry we scared you.” She scooted so she was snuggled up right against you and you carded your fingers through her fur, scratching gently.

Ransom hovered at the foot of the bed. “Thank you,” you said quietly.

“Of course,” he said. “Has that happened before?”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t think so. How did you know how to help?”

“Oh, uh,” he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, looking down at the floor, “I used to get them when I was a kid. I had a nanny who, uh, she was really good about them.”

You just nodded, feeling like you should tuck away that information. You knew so little about him, real things that hadn’t been in the binder. You wanted to file away everything you could.

“Are you– Will you be ok if I go take care of the food?”

You nodded again. “Yeah,” you said, softly. “I’ll be fine. Lola will take care of me. Won’t you, baby?” Lola flopped onto her back so that you could give her tummy scratches and you let out a soft giggle. You smiled up at Ransom, to reassure him. And he just sort of stopped. And stared at you. Your brow furrowed as you became self-conscious under his gaze and your smile started to drop.

He suddenly shook himself out of whatever had been happening and nodded. “Yeah, ok. Yell if you need me,” and he darted out of the room.

You weren’t sure exactly how long he was gone. You passed the time snuggling with Lola, taking comfort in her. You felt shaky and raw. And scared, still scared of everything that could happen, everything you’d yelled at Ransom about. And Ransom himself, how he would take to being yelled at like that, once he was done being worried.

You heard his heavy footfalls at the top of the stairs and looked up as he came back into the room. He sat on the edge of the bed and turned so you could see half his face. “I didn’t–” he started and stopped. Then, after another moment, “I didn’t realize you were so worried about all of this.”

“How would you?” you asked, your eyes cast down, locked on Lola as you continued to pet her. “You’re never here. We never talk.”

“I’ve been really busy,” he said, just a tinge of defensiveness in his tone. “Work’s been awful.” He paused, then repeated, “I’ve been really busy.”

“Sure,” you said.

Neither of you said anything for long minutes. You just kept petting Lola, your hand moving over her body rhythmically.

Then finally, Ransom said lowly, “We can work on it. Getting pregnant. If that will make you feel better. Make things easier for you.”

“Can we?” you asked. “I don’t know if what happened– if that was something that happens to you a lot, or if,” you looked back down, “or if you just don’t want me.”

He moved his hand so that his fingertips grazed yours on the bed. “It’s not that. It wasn’t ever that, ok?” You couldn’t help the way your whole body heated, just a bit, at the implication. You looked up just as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “I just– You were clearly so scared. You wanted to be anywhere else, I could tell. You wouldn’t let me touch you, you wouldn’t even look at me. I can’t do it like that. I just can’t.” He opened his eyes and looked right at you. “I just can’t.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. “That’s– I’m sorry, I–”

He shook his head. “No, that’s not– I just thought you should know.”

You sat quietly together for a few moments. Then you took a deep breath and said, “I think we should try again.”

He gave you a surprised look. “Now?” You nodded resolutely but he shook his head back at you. “You’re still coming down from your panic attack. This can wait til tomorrow.”

In the aftermath of your anxiety, the anger you’d felt had mostly faded away, but now it bubbled back up again. You were so tired of him dictating how everything would go. “No,” you said firmly. “I don’t want to put it off anymore. I’m fine now. This will make things better.”

He just looked at you, searching your face for something. You tried to show him how calm you were now, how sure. Finally, he let out a long sigh. “Fine,” he said. Then he got off the bed and started taking off his clothes. You scrambled up onto your knees to take your top off, gently coaxing Lola off the bed. She looked up at you, waiting for you to join her, but Ransom, now clad only in his boxers, picked her up, gently you noted, and deposited her in the hallway, shutting the door behind her. He looked at you as you continued to strip down to just your bra and panties, his eyes running over your body, and for the first time, you felt it. Maybe he did want you.

He climbed back on the bed. “Can I kiss you?” he asked. You froze for just a second, then nodded. He slowly brought his mouth to yours and caressed your lips with his own. His lips were soft and warm. The kiss was hesitant on both sides, not exactly passionate, but not chaste either. Nowhere near the worst you’d ever had. A quiet arousal began to pool in your core. Not need, not exactly. But it would be enough, you thought. You broke the kiss and laid down on your back. “I’m not trying to shut you out,” you said, trying to keep your tone kind, “but it’ll be faster, I think, if we both just get ourselves ready.” You started the same as last time, one hand on your breast, the other slowly traveling down your body to play with the hem of your panties. “But you can watch,” you added. “If that’s something you like.”

He cleared his throat and nodded. Then he reached over and lightly grabbed your underwear with both hands. “Is this ok?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed, trying to push down your nerves. Everything was ok, this was what needed to happen. You were fine. You were ok.

He pulled your panties down your legs, then tossed them on top of his own clothes. You closed your eyes to focus again on your goto fantasy. The man standing over you. His voice in your ear. And again, you heard the sounds of Ransom getting himself ready. The snick of him opening the bottle of lube. The wet sounds of his hand working over his cock. This time you didn’t let it bother you. This time, you willed yourself not to flinch when you felt his hand on your leg. You had two fingers in your cunt and you worked yourself open, your thumb rubbing over your clit. Once you were wet enough, stretched enough, you opened your eyes and sat up. Ransom was staring at you, one hand on his hard cock, kneeling in front of you.

“Ok,” you said, “I think I’m ready.” He started to move forward, but you stopped him with a hand on his bare chest. “Can I be on top?” you asked. “Is that ok?”

He looked down at where you were touching him and then back up at your face. “Yeah,” he grunted. “Yeah.”

You switched places as he laid down and you moved over him, straddling his pelvis and then carefully lowering yourself onto his cock. You tried not to grimace as he stretched you. He grunted again, as you slowly took more and more of him. Both of his hands came up to grasp your hips as you began to ride him, slowly at first, then picking up your pace. He was staring at your body and it was– it was a lot. Too much. You closed your eyes against it, hoping you just looked like you were into it. As he got closer, he started to buck up into you. You couldn't help but gasp at it. One of his hands moved from your hip to rub circles with his thumb over your clit, the rest of his hand splayed over your pelvis. You breathed through it, trying to let go enough to let yourself come, but you could tell that wasn’t going to happen. That was ok. That didn’t need to happen. Only one of you needed to come tonight.

He continued to buck up into you, his movements becoming more erratic. You balanced yourself with your hands on his shoulders. “Can I–” he grunted. “I’m gonna– Can I move you?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Yeah.”

He sat up and tucked you into him, rolling you both over so that you were now on your back and he was on top of you. He thrust back into you, once, twice, three times, and then he was coming, filling you up. His whole body stuttered over you and then collapsed on top of you. He breathed into your neck for countless moments and you didn’t know why, but you brought your hand up to gently stroke at the short hairs at the base of his skull. “Do you need me to–” he started to ask.

“No,” you said, knowing he was offering to help you finish. “I’m fine. Good. I’m good.”

You felt him nod, just a little, but he didn’t say anything else. It was so quiet, just the sounds of him catching his breath. Then he placed a soft kiss where your neck met your shoulder and lifted himself up and off you. You whimpered, just a little, as he pulled out.

You quickly lifted your hips up to keep his cum inside of you. You reached blindly next to your head until you found a pillow that you shoved under your lower back to keep your pelvis canted up. Ransom moved around the room, picking his underwear off the floor, and then into the bathroom. A few minutes later he came back out with a washcloth. He moved it towards your cunt and you shot a hand out. “No! Wait.”

“Hey,” he said softly, “it’s ok. Just for your thighs. I know. I understand.” He gently moved the warm washcloth over your legs. “Are you alright?” He asked, not quite meeting your eyes. “Was that ok?”

“Yeah,” you said, moving your hand to brush along his forearm. “I’m alright. That was good.”

You lay in bed as Ransom lightly snored on his stomach next to you, Lola curled up between you. You couldn’t sleep. You’d been tossing and turning for about an hour, probably. You sat up. It was no use. Your mind was too busy. Sleep wasn’t going to come.

You grabbed your phone and got out of bed, moving downstairs to the living room as quietly as you could. You curled up on the couch and hugged your knees. You weren’t sure how you felt. It had been fine. Parts of it had even been good, maybe. It’d just, it’d been a long night. You’d gone through so many feelings, and now– Now, you just felt a little empty.

You looked at your phone. It was just before midnight. That meant it’d be a little before nine in LA. Steve hopefully wouldn’t still be working, but he wouldn’t be asleep yet either. He might be out, or painting, or busy some other way, but. It was worth a shot.

It only rang once. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” Steve gasped. “Work has been a fucking nightmare, but that’s no excuse. I was going to try to call you tomorrow, but I’m so, so glad you called me now. How are you? Are you ok?”

The tears had started as soon as you heard your brother’s voice. “Steve,” was all you could get out before you were full-on crying.

“Oh, chipmunk, no. What’s wrong?”

You wiped your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get yourself together. You finally had your brother on the phone. You weren’t going to waste the whole conversation crying. “Nothing,” you managed. “I’m ok, I just– I’m just so happy to talk to you.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, and you thought that maybe his voice sounded a little thick too. “Me too. I’m so happy to talk to you. I’m so sorry it’s been so long. How are you doing? Your messages, you sounded– Are you ok?”

You sniffled as you tried to nod and then realized he couldn’t see it. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m good. It’s just a little lonely here. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too. Everything’s so different here without you. Shit, it’s late there. What are you doing up?”

You shrugged. “Just couldn’t sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Steve hummed and there was a tone to it you couldn’t quite decipher. “Is Ransom there?”

“Yeah, he’s asleep upstairs.”

“And how is he?” Steve’s tone was decidedly cold now.

“He’s fine,” you said, ignoring it. “His work’s been really busy too.”

“And how’s he been to you?” he asked and you definitely didn’t miss the challenge there.

“He’s been fine, Steve,” you said and you weren’t sure whether or not it was a lie. “Everything’s fine.” You’d already decided you weren’t going to tell him about the job thing. That wouldn’t do anything but upset him. Get him on a plane here, maybe, so he could try throwing his weight around. You rolled your eyes. It was better this way. “I’ve just been unpacking mostly. Nothing too exciting. What about you? What’s going on with you? I want to hear everything.”

“You’re sure it’s not too late there?”

“No, not at all. I’m wide awake. And nothing much to get up for in the morning anyway. But if you’re busy or need to go to bed or something, you can go whenever you need to.”

“Not a chance. I wanna talk to you as long as I can,” Steve said. And you knew he couldn’t see it, but you grinned into the phone anyway.

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bhaalble · 2 years ago

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Indulgent as the concept of Gortash mourning Durge is I tend to resist it a little in my own canon. Largely on the back of "Orin told me how she humiliated you". Two things can be true at once: Gortash has a lot of history with and affection for Durge. And Gortash plans to WIN. His plans for the moment need the alliance of Bhaal's Chosen. For the time being: that Chosen is Orin. Its why he works with her without much complaint after Durge vanishes, why he has the line "we agreed not to meddle in each other's affairs" ready to go when Durge asks him why he never looked for them. This is also why I believe he makes beating her a requirement for properly reviving the old alliance (the vows are renewed, but you're not getting any active help from him until you work out succession issues with your sister). He would prefer it be Durge! But he can't afford to publicly move against Orin. In the event that Durge loses he'll be in breach of contract enough that she'll have the go ahead to kill him. He'll hedge his bets rather than risk backing the wrong horse, because he knows too well the consequences of getting on the bad side of Bhaal's champion.

What compels me, though, are the little potential moments of self-betrayal. The flickers of wounded ego when he sees them with their companions, and the smugness when he reveals who they are. Did they really think they knew a thing about you? The poor fools have been wandering around with a lion thinking its a house cat. They don't know what it really means to stick their hand in your jaws and emerge unscathed. No one but him ever truly has.

Nostalgia and some kind of unnnameable complexity when he hears from his sources that you've been busy in the hells. A reminder of where this all started....and his old host dead at your hands. Did you remember, he wonders, the little things he'd let slip about his time in the House of Hope? Was it on your mind when you did your bloody work on Raphael? He wonders what it would have been like to see it. If you would have let him come with if he had known to ask. Hardly your first journey to the hells.

Not his only parental figure you encounter. Its when he realizes you're at his parents (seen through the eyes of his Steel Watch, he can't resist checking in from time to time. He assures himself its to make sure the wheels are still in motion) he feels real dread. He never told you the Flymms were alive, much less tadpoled. But is the prickling he feels fear that you'll uncover something? A childish irritation that you might break his least favorite toys? Or shame that he's not there to soften this revelation for you, that his humiliating origin is known while he can't say a thing to paint over it as inconsequential?

The unexpected pride he feels when you return with Orin's blade. Even addled and physically deteriorated by everything that was done to you these last months, you triumphed. No more looking over his shoulder for Orin's blade.....and, he realizes privately. All those pretty words he's said about a future ruled by the two of you may suddenly not just be words anymore.

Maybe, just maybe, there is something like destiny at work here.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #enver gortash #dark urge #dark urge spoilers #durgetash #goretash

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nerdraging4point0 · 8 months ago

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Power Play // Chapter 9 // Hockeyplayer!Noah AU

Tropes and tags: RPF:AU hockey player romance, angsty romance, hidden relationship, forbidden relationship, smutty, MF, multiple POV.

Content Warning: angsty romance, hockey player shenanigans, locker room talk, smutty, aggressive hockey players, PinV, MF relationship, possessive male, protective male.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

As I delicately dab the gauze against Nick's left eyebrow, I can feel it nearly slipping from my trembling hands. The tension is palpable as I firmly grasp his stubbled chin, forcing his gaze to meet mine for just a moment before his eyes dart back to the action unfolding across the ice.

It all went down so fast.

In a flash, Sanchez slung the puck past the goalie and into the net, eliciting a roar from the crowd. But the celebration was short-lived, as the clash of bodies around the goal quickly turned chaotic. The Bruns defense swarmed Sanchez, shoving him roughly, while another player trips up Ruffilo in a blatant display of aggression. And then, as Nick is getting to his feet, one of the opposing players "accidentally" strikes him across the face with the sharp end of his stick, drawing blood and a collective gasp from the onlookers. It takes the quick action of Dominick leaping over the boards, and the restraint of Sebastian, to keep Karlsson from pummeling the offending player then and there.

With a few deft motions, I managed to clear away the blood, Ruffilo's injury was not as severe as it had initially appeared. Relieved to see that no stitches would be necessary, I turned my attention to Jack, giving him a reassuring thumbs up. Jack responds with a curt nod, his gaze shifting towards the ice as he silently communicated his readiness to get the game back underway. Taking the cue, I reached out and gave Nick a firm pat on the shoulder, prompting him to swiftly leap back over the boards and rejoin his teammates on the rink. Turning back to my makeshift medical station, I set about the methodical task of cleaning up the scattered gauze pads and securely closing the saline solution.

Noah has been skating past my post repeatedly today, each time i've tried to ignore his presence, it's been a mere two weeks since our fateful universal date. Since that night, we've been utterly unable to keep our hands off one another, our bodies drawn together by an irresistible magnetic force that threatens to consume us both.

Although we've managed to keep our situationship secret for now the ever-present anxiety of being discovered hangs over me like a dark cloud. The thrill is intoxicating, yet the guilt gnaws at my conscience. I know deep down that what we share is wrong, taboo, a flagrant flouting of the rules - and yet, in his presence, all rational thought seems to evaporate.

The way he moves, the way he looks at me, ignites a fire within that I find impossible to extinguish.

The words breach of contract. Misconduct. All flash in my brain when I think about it, but they vanish shortly after his hands touch my skin. One misstep, one slip-up, could shatter the fragile web we've woven - and the consequences of that are almost too terrifying to contemplate.

I’m no longer the only nurse on the team. McGuirre joined us last week, he is smart and funny. Recently divorced from his husband he took the job for a fresher start. Since then, each time Noah has needed a look over or some small injury, I have him handle it instead. The exchange of care helps quell the anxiety in my chest.

But it doesn't stop my heart from racing every time he looks my way.

This game is falling apart and it's putting both the fans and the players on edge. The players have already engaged in a staggering five fights. We are down by three points, and the frustration is etched on each of their faces. Lawrence, has already broken two hockey sticks, cracking them across his knee with roaring yell. Karlsson, has found himself in the penalty box twice, forced to sit out crucial moments due to his overzealous play. In contrast, Noah, though not directly involved in any altercations, has been an aggressive presence, getting in the faces of multiple opposing players, unwilling to back down from the challenge.

Even my father is visibly on edge, his cheeks flushed not from the chill of the rink but from the sheer tension of the moment. Up in the visitors' box, a group of recruiters from the Olympics, accompanied by the team's public relations manager, have their eyes trained intently on the game, focusing particularly on the standout players, Ruffilo and Sanchez. With each impressive play made, the recruiters can be seen pointing and discussing animatedly.

As the final buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the game, the dejected players trudge off the ice, their shoulders hunched and their faces etched with frustration. The heavy footfalls echo through the empty halls, punctuated by the occasional angry muttering or the slamming of a door. Once inside the cramped, dimly lit locker room, the pent-up emotions finally erupt, with players hurling their sweat-soaked jerseys and slamming their fists against the metal lockers. The cacophony of crashing gear and furious shouts creates a chaotic symphony. It doesn’t take me long to put away the supplies and gather my keys and phone from my locker. Heading out quick.

As I aimlessly scrolled through my phone, the bright glow from the screen casting an eerie blue light across my face, I was completely oblivious to the looming presence approaching from the side. I’m tired and just want some late night dinner and trashy TV. Utterly absorbed in the mindless distraction of social media, I failed to notice the large, imposing figure drawing nearer until a sudden, vice-like grip seized my arm, yanking me forward with surprising force. Startled, I glanced up to find myself staring at a towering, sulking, Noah. His fingers, still damp and wrinkled from what was presumably a recent shower, dug painfully into the soft flesh of my bicep as he roughly dragged me along, his broad shoulders and thick neck tight with frustration. The pungent, earthy scent of his body wash, a musky, woodsy fragrance, assaulted my nostrils, his shoulders red frome the heart of his shower.

We approach the storage closet, my head instinctively swivels around, scanning the empty hallway for any prying eyes that might catch. The coast is clear, and with a gentle nudge, he guides me through the doorway, clicking the door shut behind us. The small, enclosed space is dimly lit, barely holding all the storage let alone two human bodies.

“You’ve been ignoring me, little fox.” The dark, brooding intensity in his eyes is intense as he stalks towards me, his lithe, predatory movements leaving no doubt about his purpose. Droplets cling to the silky strands of his bangs, which sweep alluringly across his sharp cheekbones. I feel my back press against the sturdy wooden shelves behind me, the practice cones and sports gear rattling slightly from the contact.

Trapped, I try to stammer out a weak explanation, insisting that this is "nothing personal, just professional." But the tremor in my voice betrays the growing arousal I feel pooling between my thighs. As his hungry gaze rakes over my body.

As he inhales sharply, a low, rumbling growl escapes his lips, further stoking the fire within me. “Turn around.”

My heart is hammering in my ears and I can barely register to move. “Wh-what?”

"Turn. Around." he commanded, his voice low and gruff. Slowly, I pushed off from the shelf, my eyes fixed on him as my body turned. He was impatient, taking my hips in his strong, calloused hands and spinning me the rest of the way around, pulling my backside firmly against his hips. I could feel his throbbing cock pressing against my ass, and a needy whine escaped my lips at the thought of him filling me up once more.

With one swift, powerful thrust, he pushed me into the shelf, I braced, pushing some of the gear aside as my body jolted forward. It still wasn't enough - I wanted more, craving the delicious, almost painful sensation of being stretched and dominated by this man.

His breath hits the shell of my ear as his long fingers grasp my hair and pull my head back to meet his lips. “Say it,” he growls, “Say you want me to fuck you.” I whimper, it's all my brain can do, my ability to form words is short circuiting. “Speak words, little fox.” He says tugging my hair, causing just a quick nip of pain at my scalp.

“Please, Noah,” I beg, it's enough. Noah's free hand swiftly tugs down my pants and underwear, exposing me. Kicking my legs apart, he decisively slides his hand up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, zeroing in on the throbbing center of my arousal. Without hesitation, he presses a long, skilled finger directly onto my sensitive clit, gently massaging the slick, swollen nub in firm, circular motions. The sensation is electric, and I can't help but gasp as he suddenly plunges that same finger deep inside me, filling me to the knuckle. I can feel the cool metal of his ring as it grazes my most sensitive walls, and he pulls back only to push forward again with more force. My body responds eagerly, clenching and fluttering around his intrusion as white-hot pleasure radiates through me. The combination of his confident touch, the fullness within me, and the intense stimulation on my most sensitive spots has me teetering on the edge of ecstasy, my breath coming in short, needy pants.

As his hand slowly withdraws, he carefully cups a portion of my glistening wetness between his fingertips, savoring the delicate texture and warmth. Releasing his grip on my hair, I turn my head just in time to witness him hastily shoving down his sweats, his throbbing cock springing back to meet the taut skin of his abdomen. With a deliberate motion, he coats the swollen tip and rigid shaft with my own arousal. My eyes roll back and I bite down hard on my lower lip, enthralled by the erotically charged sight. Bracing myself against his hip, I can feel him guiding his pulsing length to my entrance, sinking in the moment he finds the perfect spot. There is no hesitation, no gentle buildup - he simply begins driving his hips forward, the slapping of skin against skin echoing through the charged atmosphere as he grips me tightly by the hips.

Rising up on the balls of my feet in a desperate bid to feel him buried within me to the absolute hilt. The overwhelming, all-encompassing need to be ripped apart, to be used and claimed with utter abandon, pulses through my veins like molten desire. He answers my frantic, wanton movements with grunts and pants, his grip tightening around my waist until I can feel the sharp crests of my hips pinching under the sheer force of his grasp.

I arch my back, grinding myself against him with wanton abandon, lost in the ecstasy of being utterly possessed.

The intense sensations are almost overwhelming, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over me as he continues his relentless pounding. I can barely catch my breath, whimpering and gasping in a desperate attempt to hold back the screams that threaten to escape. My fingers claw at nothing, grasping for something, anything, to anchor myself as my body is wracked with one earth-shattering orgasm after another. The backs of my thighs burn from holding myself up on my toes, but I refuse to give in, needing to feel every inch of him filling me, stretching me to my limits.

His large hands grip my backside, kneading the flesh as he pulls me forward to meet each of his powerful thrusts. I can imagine the lewd sight of his glistening cock disappearing inside me, leaving me raw and thoroughly claimed. The only sounds that fill the air are his grunts, growls, and heavy panting as he takes what he needs, completely consumed.

Deep within, I feel a stirring of something more profound - a dawning realization that he is claiming me, body and soul, in a way no other man ever could. With each punishing stroke, he is staking his indelible mark, making me his and his alone.

In what feels like an eternity but is mere moments, he lets out one last guttural groan, his hips surging forward in a final, forceful thrust. I can feel the tension in his body as it quivers and strains, every muscle going taut before finally releasing in a shuddering wave of relief. Collapsing over me, he pants heavily, his breath hot and ragged against my skin. We stay locked together, suspended, my legs trembling as I slowly lower them to the floor. The warmth of his release coats my insides, the sensation both foreign and familiar as it seeps into every sensitive crevice. Time seems to stand still in that hazy, blissful moment, the world narrowing down to just the two of us. Finally, reluctantly, we begin to part.

He helps bring my pants back up as I fix the hem of my shirt. His arms wrapping around my waist as he pulls me in head tucking over my shoulder. He doesn't say anything. Just lets out a shaky breath before kissing the side of my neck and turning around to leave.

As I reluctantly bid farewell to Noah, a profound sense of melancholy washes over me, shaking my entire being more intensely than the passionate encounter we had just shared. The tender goodbye lingers, its emotional weight far exceeding the physical intimacy we had experienced. Glancing down, I notice my phone and keys strewn haphazardly on the floor. I can't even recall the moment I dropped them.

Steeling myself, I step out of the closet, turning to my left only to witness Noah vanish back towards the locker rooms. In that instant, I'm painfully aware that I'm not alone - Ruffilo and Karlsson stand in the hallway, their eyebrows raised in a silent expression of surprise and judgment as our eyes meet. My cheeks flush with a deep, burning crimson as I spin on my heel, heart pounding, and quickly make my way down the hall towards the parking lot, desperate to escape the prying eyes and the weight of the moment.

#bad omens cult #noah sebastian #bad omens #noahsebastian fanfic #bad omens band #hockey player noah #hockey #bad omens au #bad omens smut #hockey romance #hockeyomens

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