#I could go on. holy fuck Canada how do you fuck up that bad (I say being familiar with historical US legal fuckups)

[karmaphone]

bruh I regret watching this documentary they really burned those tapes because of what was on them but only gave her 12 years. for what she was plainly visible and audible to have done on recorded video that they presented to the jury

[teaboot]

jock anon here! I have more questions about western schools because I always wondered how much is true :

Do you really drive to school?

Do you not have uniforms?

Do you really pay in the cafeteria? are you allowed to eat outside?

Do you have mascots?

are school sports THAT big of a deal?

(Sorry if these sound stupid but I really wanted to know )

To answer, I grew up on farmland in rural Canada

If you have your own car and a driver's license, you can drive to school. It's definitely too far to walk, but some people might bike. The city bus only goes through every four hours, but the school bus isn't too bad. If these don't work your guardians might drop you off before they go to work.

No, we did not have uniforms, that's rich city bitch shit. I personally enjoyed the fishnets and stompin boots combo but no, no uniform. Loosely-enforced dress code, too.

Yes, the cafeteria costs money. There are snack programs for If you don't have money but it's usually apples and granola bars, sometimes mac n cheese for a dollar or something. We can eat anywhere we want, just not the library, gym, or art rooms, and nobody's allowed up the trees.

We had a mascot but we didn't really use it. There was a costume but I think I only saw it twice.

I could not have given less of a shit about team sports, and I was *on* a sports team. We didn't really watch the teams play, either. From what I've seen in America it is NOTHING like they do. No parades or parties or sirens in the street, just trying to make it to nationals, maybe get a scholarship. (Didn't work for me, I was an art kid.)

It doesn't sound stupid but maybe ask an American for Wilder stories, holy fuck the sport team I saw had a fire truck wailing around town when they won once holy fuck damn near shit meself

[thatdeadaquarius]

OKAY BUT I HAVE MORE IDEA FOR BLUNT READER CUZ I LOVE THAT AU SO MUCHANDMDJFKSLDKF

So you know how french people's insult are always outta pocket (from a person who's first language is french I can tell you that no other language compares in insult -apart for African languages)

Like,, some "bad" insult here would be : bitch, fuck off, whore,..

Which we can all agree is boring...

BUT THEN IN FRENCH!!!

We be getting creative with it

Eg.

"mange tes mort" wich translates to "eat your dead (relatives)"

"vas te fair enculer" means "go get yourself pegged in the ass"

(yes, we have a specific word for being fucked in the ass 💀)

AND THOSE WOULD BE THE COMMON ONES AS WELL

English could never compare ✨

BUT ANYWAYS

how would the characters react if reader was from france/ belgium/ canada(or any other french speaking country) and started cursing people out like they eould do in their home countrie !?!?

The eay their face would drop

We would make a couple of people cry

AND GOD(us haha) FORBID A KID OVER-HEAR US AND STARTS REPEATING US

Trying to un-teach them would be hell *cries*

Your thoughts?

Love yaaaa~

ABSOLUTE TOP TIER ORAH MY BELOVED!!

Nobody has any idea how much I HATE ENGLISH both for its rules/pronounciation BS/etc. But also, most importantly, THERES LIKE NO GOOD CUSS WORDS- OR LIKE CUSS PHRASES??

I HAD TO PUT THIS GIF BC THAT WAS LITERALLY ME WHEN I HAD THE REALIZATION TO LOOK UP OTHER LANGUAGE CUSS WORDS AND I WAS JUST BLOWN AWAY BY HOW GOOD THEY WERE- HOW CREATIVE- 😫😭🥲 ENGLISH WHY R U SO SHITY IN EVERY POSSIBLE LANGUAGE SITUATION-

like idk we got "eat shit and die / fuck off / go fuck yourself" ???? Like- thats pathetic 😟.

I love hearing someone just cuss smbody out their native language/non-english, it’s so badass and cool to see

Anyway u already know i love non-native english speakers from the bottom of my heart✨️

GOD I FUCKING LOVE BLUNT LANGUAGE AU ITS LIKE ONE OF TOP FAV AS U CAN PROBABLY GUESS I COULD WRITE A LITERAL FANFIC ENTIRELY OFF THIS SIMPLE PREMISE 💖💓💗💞❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

omg so i HAVE SPECIFICALLY HEARD ABT FRENCH BEING RLLY CREATIVEEE

and i researched french cusswords/phrases,,,

😭 BRO IM CRYING

“bête comme ses pieds!” IM ROLLING ON THE FLOOR-

(trans: you’re as stupid AS YOUR FEEEEEETT)

idk what’s funnier, you translating urself in real time and saying all these phrases to ppl,

OR just scaring the ever-loving shit out of every teyvat citizen within a mile radius bc oh wow- you look pissed, so yeah somebody’s about to lose all their self-esteem for the rest of their life bc ur insults are known to be extra cutting bc ur so blunt-

OH CREATOR ABOVE (…oh creator, present??)- you changed to your holy language FOR THIS???

everybody just giving the npc the most bombastic side-eye for pushing you to do this,

or even just you stubbing ur toe/ate food when it was too hot

or my favorite, getting onto ppl like Wanderer when they do smth silly lmao

STOP I HAD A FOUL THOUGHT OF GETTING ONTO Ei AND WANDERER (like ei for not keeping him/at least giving him to someone else to raise, then all the shit he did as Scaramouche lol)

AND THIS CUSSWORD COMES OUT UNDER UR BREATH OR SMTH- DOES THIS FIT BC THIS KILLS ME:

“Putain de salope…” (whore of whore, I LIED IT MEANS FUCKING BITCH LMAO😭)

JUST GETTING THE MOM AND THE SON IN ONE FULL BREATH CRYINGGGG

STOPPP wanderer using it against other ppl ever since u used it lol

oh no stop dont bring the kids into thisss 😭😭

Klee would deffo be the first one to pick up ur words and use them, omg she just uses them as catchphrases like when throwing her bombs 💀

“Mange tes mort!” JUST WITH A SMILE ON HER FACE AS SHE THROWS HER HUGE SKILL BOMB INTO A FISH POND

Venti would definitely make sure the winds “pass along phrases of the sacred All-God language!”

which just means anyone who UNDERSTANDS YOU JUST GETS GENTLY CREATIVELY CUSSED OUT BY THE WIND IM SOBBINGGG

☆

i hope u guys are having a great summer! its basically too hot to go outside where I am, not unless ur going straight into the water or smth

which hey, ill be doing that this weekend, floating down the river about an hour away from my house with friends! :]

which,,, if anyone sees this, U GOTTA HELP ME THINK OF A 1000 FOLLOWERS MILESTONE THING TO DO IDK WHAT TO DO BUT I WANNA CELEBRATE IT BC I NEVER THOUGHT THATD HAPPEN!! lmk what u think in the comments if u read this!

☆

Safe Travels 0rah,

💀♒

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi

[ruffboijuliaburnsides]

"Has anyone been paying attention to [atrocity or other legitimately horrible thing] going on in [country], or [veiled accusations of bigotry for not knowing]? [insert a post with news but absolutely zero calls to action or suggestions of how someone outside the country might help]"

love that this kind of post is still going around on tumblr. /s this post i'm making is a complaint of every one of that kind of guilt trip post I've ever seen, prompted by one that crossed my dash recently.

first of all, i can barely keep up with the news of what atrocities are happening in my own country, i have literally no idea what's happening in the rest of the world right now. it's not just you. i couldn't tell you what's happening in canada or mexico or half the time even the next state over. Get mad at international news for not covering it, but don't bring that guilt trip down on me.

second of all, if you ARE going to try to bring that guilt trip down on me, the least you could fucking do is tell me how i can fucking help. If you're talking about widespread awareness, the people you want to be pissed at are NEWS OUTLETS for not reporting on it. If you have actual concrete ways the average non-citizen of that country can help, then we're getting somewhere at least.

third of all yes it's a horrible thing. Like, holy shit I read that and was appalled. But all that's going to do is... make me appalled. and feeling worse about the world. Because I can't *help*, apparently, you just want me to be AWARE, okay fine but i'm busy being AWARE of how my own country is trying to kill me right now so you'll forgive me if i have limited resources to focus on a situation i can't change or do anything about other than bear witness to it, apparently. Or that's the sense you gave me by guilt tripping me and then providing zero resources.

But yeah. If something's going down in your country and you want to make a post saying "guys please I just need to make sure people know what's happening" without having any resources for whatever reason, that's fine. I'm supportive. I may even reblog it, though I prefer posts with any sort of indication for how I can help or change the situation.

But making that post, with no resources for how people can help, but also PREFACING it with a snide guilt-tripping accusation of our own bigotry being the reason none of us know about what's happening, rather than a lack of international news coverage and possibly our own preoccupations with stuff happening in our own country? fuck you. I hope the bad shit stops happening and I hope you stay safe, but I think you specifically are a fucking asshole.

[fllagellant]

Okay yeah on a car ride this means ; Time 2 talk about Waaseyaa

So . I’ m still figuring out exactly why he chose to stop around New Hanover during the events Of the game . But he is there ! If he could flee far enough south then no one from Canada would bother following him that far away . + being so far could give him time to run again If they chose to track him . His bounty is high but he is also One Guy , so his endeavours are rather small-scale compared to gang work . High for one dude, but modest when compared to well established outlaws

He’ s also Young so like . He’ s only been around here for like 24 years . He’ s only been doing this stealing cattle and livestock thing for a couple of years let him catch up !!! But . He does want to leave that in Canada so that it can blow over . If he starts anything else then That could become an Issue

The thing about Waaseyaa is that they Know being a lone wanderer is . Not the best safety wise ? They do not ( at the earlier chapters at least ) trust anyone Nor themself enough to run with anyone else . Hired or not . BUT . But . This does not stop them from saying they Do run with a gang . The reasons for this are A) So they have a threat of protection . You can’ t do anything to me without the risk of angering someone far Bigger than you . Who will Kill you . And B) So they have a scapegoat . If they anger someone , and then namedrop a gang in the area … well . Better to have the two of them at each other so He can slip away

That is how he met Charles btw . Dude who is far too casual like “ umm I run with Dutch Van der Linde … you heard of him ? “ and Charles physically going ? because he does not Know that guy . He does NOT run with the Van der Lindes what the hell is he doing . #meetcute

But aside from all that , I should actually talk about how he would be introduced to the main story in my Mind . Okok . So . Bounties . Even if he isn’ t doing crimes Yet in New Hanover that doesn’ t mean people don’ t realize he is there . Like . Holy shit is that Colt Black the cattle thief ?? Why is he Here . So people are kinda waiting for him to dabble in something Illegal . Cue a bounty coming out for his head for a cattle rustling gone Bad

Enter Arthur Morgan . The price is good + the last sighting is easy to get to and that Colt doesn’ t seem worried about … hiding ? So it feels too good to be true but Why Not ! Spoiler ; it Was

Imagine u get to a place to over look the camp . It’ s tucked away by a little alcove by the river . And the mark is just chilling . His Longhorn - because why should he have a traditional horse mount - is playing in the water , and it seems so Simple . Until u see a rather Familiar Appaloosa trot through the water and it’ s like …. Okay …. Then you watch the bounty look over his shoulder and talk to someone and it’ s like …….. Okaay ? …… then the other person steps into view and it’ s Charles Smith and it’ s like OKAY ?!

Yeah the thing that stops Arthur from just hogtying him is the fact Charles is with him … ? And they’ re just drinking coffee like . So Charles isn’ t here for the bounty . So Arthur relents like what the fuck is happening here . Charles voice this is Not what it looks like Arthur voice Oh it better be what this looks like

After actually talking , turns out Waaseyaa ( Arthur doesn’ t learn that name for a While btw it’ s a matter of truth for Waaseyaa to let someone know and use their name ) could not have committed that crime , and that this was some sort of shitty copy cat . Charles also confirms that there was no chance that Waaseyaa was the man who did the crime . He does promise Arthur to bring him the guy who Actually did the crime , in exchange for not gossiping about him in the area and also … maybe not talking about what he stumbled across okay ?

One main mission later , Waaseyaa does bring Arthur the bounty and is like Heyyy here’ s my end of the deeal lol . This is the start of Arthur playing wingman for both Waaseyaa and Charles btw . Dude who is third wheeling as a profession now . He’ s so good a covering for them for a while . Also Waaseyaa opens up as helping with more Difficult bounties + he can approach Arthur like a random encounter and offer to pay off His bounties and will mention paying other minor bounties the gang picks up ( only for a handful of people tho if he doesn’ t like you he is not paying Anything )

[thefandom-casserole]

Episode 48 Notes-

THE BEETLES MY BELOVED <3333333333333333333

This makes me so happy

I’m in science listening to this

The shade witch my beloved 

TeenFact: Taylor has once constructed for himself a bow and arrow. So he used a red wood tree instead (which was illegal) and then it snapped immediately. He’s an ecoterrorist (JUST LIKE THE REAL ONE). He found the oldest tree in the world

The kattttttt

“You can’t just throw things and just expect the cat to find it!!” 

TeenFact: Lincoln added laxatives to the other kids that joined the homeschooling group with Marco.

TeenFact: Normal has no recollection of his small arms training he apparently learned at daddies hq. BUT he’s always had a very very good trigger discipline

Basically he should just come live near me I genuinely don’t think I know a single person who hasn’t shot a gun

THEY CHEERED FKR SCARYYYYY INSTEAD OF GASPED AHHHH

TeenFact: Hermie’s funeral was the first funeral she’s ever been to, unless you count some AI robots funeral thing

If Beth writes a scifi novela I will absolutely read it and I hate almost every scifi

Anthony Fact: if you live in Canada he was in a charity show called the takeback 

Fuckable Henry Oak Garcia

I fucking love how many things are now ranger things now he’s a rouge

Mae Hailes mention!!!!!!

Ewwwwwwwwwwww this is such a good description holy shit

I fucking hate time shenanigans 

SPARROW’S DOING CODE PURPLE HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT ITS SPARROW 

The whale 😭 

LEGO LINC :D !!!!!!!

Nat one noooooooooo Beth!!!!!!!!

He can’t play soccer without knees :ccccc

Nat twenty yayyyyyyyy Beth!!!!!!

SCARY HOLY SHIT THAT WOILD BE SO GOOD FOR YOUUUU

A notnat one noooooooo Will!!!!!!

:cccc poor Normal the ring 😭 

The bracelet reminds me of the bracelets on the dragon (I can’t think of his name 😭)

He’s mid. I love that

Stepping on Legos really does suck 😭 

PUMP UP THE JAM

Sparrow is such a liarrrrrr omg

NO JEZZ BALL 😭 

IVE BEEN PLAYING JEZZ BALL SO MUCH LATELY

I fucking love jezz ball

TAYLORS FUCKING EX IM DYING HOLY SHIT

The body pillow 💀 

Sparrow omg

TEL THAT TO WALTER

I SCREAMED I GENUKNELY SCREAMED AHAHJAJAJSJAJAJSJSKSJDNSKJAHAJSNS

HES THE REASON ALL OF THIS HAPPENED

(If we don’t go meta and blame Matt)

WALTER THEY FUCKING DOOMED WALTER BECAUSE OF A GRUDGE THAT WAS ABOUT PROTECTINV HIM

“I love you son but I will never forgive you for this”

“I know you did the best that you could but you needed to be much better”

Sobbing

Dang the guilt given to normal from this mannnnnn

Poor dood omg

LINC IS STILL A LEGO GUY I LOVE THIS

The disassociation from Linc is so sad

I love him so much

Scary in this episode is immaculate. Beth May my beloved

NORMAL NOOOOOO DONT LEAVE HIS FRIENDSSSS

“that’s all my family ever does”

Sobbing

“WE’RE ALL JUST KIDS!”

Scary this is amazing

Scary you better fucking listen to your own advice

This reminds me of a rp I did a while ago with Scary and Taylor hmmmm

“Two world for me. And he doesn’t even like me”

Normal is so fucking Adaine coded it’s insane

The firefighters!!! I forgot about them

“And that’s why I don’t even like myself that much”

Normallll

“That sounds like a him problem”

“I didn’t grow up into someone he can be proud of”

Some banger lines today

“Norm we’re proud of you”

“You’re the glue norm” !!!!!!!!!

“Your dad still hasn’t grown up into someone you should be proud of”

Damnnnn Linc that’s good

“At least you feel things”

LINC ARE UOU GOING DOWN GRANTS OATH NO NO NO 

Scary is so Fig Faeth coded I adore herrrrrrrrrrrr

I love how protective they are of Norm ahhhhh

The love wolf is bad at talking about feeling :c

HOLY SHOT

HOLY SHIT

HOLY SHIT

THE MUSIC

CHANGED

AHHHH

IM SO SCATED

WILLY

WILLY

THE COLAR 

ON DOOD

SHIT

OMG

OMG

This music is banger though

Wow Willy’s dc is low

GET HIS ASS LINC

69 nice

Cause why not

I fucking love Taylor and Freddie

Where was sparrow this whole time!!????? Shitttttttt

“Normal thanks, this was all you”

FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

Vibing to the music

HELLO ESTER THIS IS NEW

Huhhhh that does make sense about the elevators

That was certainly an episode 

Surprisingly didn’t make me sad 🤷 

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Okay, this doesn’t fucking matter but I am having a bad day and would like to express anger about something that doesn’t fucking matter, so I would like to point out some flaws in a review. Which I found some time ago while I was looking up all of Daniel Kitson’s shows and reading reviews and descriptions of them, because I wanted to know what they were all like, even if I couldn’t hear recordings of all of them. This post will be long and I genuinely recommend skipping it, it’s not going to cover anything except one old review that no one cares about.

It seems quite silly to get mad about what seems to be the only negative review ever written about someone who is otherwise venerated to an almost ludicrous degree. I mean, he is that good. I didn’t believe he could be at first, but I’ve checked and can confirm that he really is that good. But still. The amount he gets accoladed is so over the top that it starts to seem silly even if it’s accurate. Nothing is literally perfect, and in addition to really being every bit as good as people say, Daniel Kitson probably occasionally gets away with some shit because he’s seen as above criticism. There are probably legitimate criticisms of his work that don’t get said because of his status in comedy. Therefore, I was intrigued to find a negative review, thinking it’s a novel angle even if I don’t end up agreeing with it.

But then I actually read it, and it irrationally annoyed me even though I’d never heard the show it described so I couldn’t technically be sure whether most of what it said was wrong. But there was some stuff in there that would be wrong even if it did turn out the actual show was a complete piece of shit.

Reading that review made me feel the same way as when I listened to that Marc Maron interview with John Oliver, with Maron pronouncing “Edinburgh” wrong and repeating weird stereotypes about Britain and interrupting John’s stories about anything that took place in England to point out how different and exotic that place is. It’s not that different, dude. Yes you have to work out that when John says “headteacher” he means what you know as a principal. It’s also what I know as a principal, being from Canada, but I worked that out pretty easily from context. Did not need to stop and have a whole discussion about how that’s so weird and British. It’s the same thing, and there are genuinely interesting things in this story that are rooted in shared human experience, stop fucking reducing it to “British people do things different.” And holy fuck stop reducing Liverpool to the place where the Beatles are from. It’s fine if you don’t know anything about Liverpool besides the Beatles, as a Canadian I don’t know a huge amount about Liverpool either (seen lots of it on Google Earth, though, it looks very pretty), but if you don’t know then you don’t need to talk about it, just shut up and let John tell you stuff.

I know this is something that really annoys me in general. I mean, I’m sure it annoys most people, but it’s one of the things that annoys me probably even more than it annoys most people. I hate it when people try to talk about stuff and don’t know what they’re talking about. I know it comes from my own need to overprepare for everything, to collect all the information about everything, to find context and background and understand, before I try to say anything about it. I get stuff wrong all the time, I say things that betray my ignorance or the shallowness of my knowledge all the time, but at least I have the decency to constantly be self-conscious about whether I’m doing that, and try to avoid it. I try to always acknowledge the limitations of what I know, and not try to talk with any authority about anything unless I’m really quite sure I understand it. When other people don’t do that – not when they don’t know stuff, but when they incorrectly talk as though they do – it hugely annoys me.

I now have two items in a very specific subset of that type of grievance, which is Americans who talk to/about British comedy while just being relentlessly fucking American about it. This definitely fits into a larger gripe I have as a Canadian whose entire culture is subsumed by America, my whole country is basically assumed to just be tacked on to America, and this may make me particularly sensitive to Americans who see everything through the very narrow perspective of relentless Americanism. You can argue that they have no reason to know when they’re talking about when it comes to British comedy, but 1) if you don’t know what you’re talking about then acknowledge that and let the person who does know talk, and 2) I know he’s American but I really don’t understand how a comedian as big as Marc Maron can spend that many years in comedy and not know how to pronounce “Edinburgh”.

So back to the Kitson review. Maybe the show is fucking terrible, I thought, when I first read it. I mean, probably not. Probably, Daniel Kitson did not choose this one show from 2017 to be the only time he would ever string together a bunch of unconnected sentences with no deeper meaning or point. But technically he could have done that, I’ve not heard the show so I can’t comment on it. But I also don’t hugely trust the opinion of an American reviewer who, in about 750 words, managed to misspell his name once and complain about his accent twice.

The first comment implied that his accent is difficult to understand, and I think they’re just straight-up lying about that. Or didn’t like him to start with, and because of that, disingenuously interpreted his accent as difficult. Because it really isn’t, and to say it is is amazingly myopic. The only way you could have trouble following that accent is if your entire worldview is so American-centric that you’ve never heard English spoken with a different accent in your whole life. Not just never traveled outside America. Never engaged with any non-American media. If that were the case, then I guess I could imagine how his accent could be jarring. Otherwise, it’s quite a standard Yorkshire accent, and while he speaks fast sometimes, he also speaks quite clearly. I’ve seen him described as a mumbler before, and I see why because his persona is that of the sort of person who would mumble, but he doesn’t actually do that. He enunciates to a degree that makes me remember he went to drama school.

To be fair, I’ve always been a bit better at that than some people I know. My mother needs subtitles for Derry Girls, which I don’t see the need for at all. When I was a kid and my dad used to play his Billy Connolly CD in the car, my brother would complain that he couldn’t understand the accent at all, while I had to work at it a bit but I was able to make out what he was saying. My reason for not understanding those Connolly routines was entirely rooted in being much too young for the subject matter.

Having said that, I am convinced that even my mother, my brother, someone who would struggle with a thicker accent like in Derry Girls, would not for a second struggle to understand Daniel Kitson. He speaks so carefully, even when he sounds careless, and while you can tell it’s a regional accent, that doesn’t change what the words are. Sometimes he pronounces words in odd ways, often intentionally for comic effect, but you can always hear exactly what he’s saying.

There was a story on WILTY once, in which a woman claimed she had problems in America due to people not understanding her Northern accent. Lee Mack immediately, and correctly, worked out that it was false, because no one in America struggles with Northern accents. To them, it’s all just an English accent. They don’t hear the difference between North and South accents, so they couldn’t misunderstand a Northern accent unless they just don’t understand English accents generally, and that, of course, would be absurd. So that’s just not a thing. Americans might struggle to identify a Northern accent, but they don’t struggle to understand it. Meaning this reviewer was disingenuously trying to misunderstand, if he really struggled with it at all.

Lee was right about that, in my experience. WILTY was the first show I watched after Taskmaster, at the beginning of all this, and for the first few seasons, all the jokes about Lee’s Northern accent went over my head. While I had no trouble understanding the words people said, I did have trouble hearing that difference. Lee and David sounded the same to me, and I could barely tell that Rob Brydon’s Welsh accent was different either. The only person whose accent I could immediately identify was Kevin Bridges talking in the Malcolm Tucker/Jamie MacDonald accent, because years of obsession with The Thick of It mean I know exactly how Glaswegians sound.

I can now identify most of the major accents. I can at least tell English, Scottish, Irish, and Welsh apart, which I couldn’t reliably do at first. I can tell Northern English from Southern English. I can’t hear the difference between, say, an East Midlands and a West Midlands accent, but I can now hear what people are talking about if they make a joke about someone’s Birmingham accent. Or West Country, or Scouse, or Geordie. I have occasionally thought I could detect a difference between Yorkshire and Lancashire accents, but I think I was imagining it, and I’m not 100% convinced there’s a difference there at all. I know there are lots of differences I still don’t hear, though.

The point is that I know the UK and Ireland have many nuances in accents, and with a lot of practice, I have learned to identify some of the major ones while a whole lot of the minor ones still go over my head. But even the version of me from the very beginning of this whole process, when I didn’t get the WILTY jokes because David Mitchell and Lee Mack and Rob Brydon all sounded the same to me, would hear the difference between Daniel Kitson and the John Oliver of Last Week Tonight. And that brings me to the bit of this review that annoyed me the most, which was: “Maybe because of the English accent and constant asides, but it was like watching the wonkiest main segment on “Last Week Tonight with John Oliver,” except four times as long.” Because, sir, what the fuck are you talking about? Daniel Kitson’s accent sounds absolutely nothing like John Oliver’s regular accent, and it sounds even less like the more mid-Atlantic version that he uses on Last Week Tonight. I genuinely think John Oliver’s LWT accent might have more in common with my Canadian accent than it does with Daniel Kitson’s.

They are so incredibly different that this almost invalidates my earlier point, that all the accents sound the same to the untrained ear so they’re all equally easy to understand. Because I think even the least trained ear, even me from 2019, would not hear Daniel Kitson and think, “That sounds like John Oliver.” It’s not just the accent, their voices are at different pitches, different tones, completely different. There is a bit of similarity in the cadence sometimes. And in general, those two actually have many similarities, not in the content of their work but in the worldviews they use it to express, and I could write you a whole essay about that if you like. But their voices sound nothing whatsoever alike.

So it has to be one or the other. Either he somehow sounds like John Oliver, in which case you should understand him fine because John’s LWT voice was specifically tailored to be palpable to even the most myopic Americans, or they sound completely different, in which case the later comparison makes no sense. So fuck off, person who wrote that review. You didn’t really struggle to understand the accent, so that’s not why you mentioned it. You mentioned it because that’s what was on your mind as you watched. It betrays the fact that you saw the whole thing through the lens of “Here is some English person coming over here to be English at us and I am going to lump that in with everything I know about England instead of engaging with his work as its own thing”.

That’s what I thought about the review when I happened across it some time ago, as it was about a show I’d never seen. I thought if there’s going to be one monolith-defying negative Kitson review out there, this shouldn’t be it. One that was written by someone who’s either a fucking idiot who doesn’t understand what they watched, or who just wanted the distinction of going against the grain and being the only person to give Daniel Kitson a bad review, and this is the best they could come up with.

I’ve heard the show now, and I’m avoiding writing many specifics about any shows I hear that have not been officially released, because I know they shouldn’t be out there. But I would like to say… Mr. Reviewer, even if you have never encountered an English accent before, have you ever encountered a metaphor? Because this one was not well hidden, not that he was trying to hide it. It was the whole point.

Honestly, if you wanted to criticize that show, you could. The main thing you could say is it’s an extremely similar premise to The Interminable Suicide of Gregory Church. Personally, I see that as a positive “Two Cakes” situation. I don’t think we can ever have too many narratives about someone obsessively going down rabbit holes to try to collect and then sort out all the information about one subject, finding connections from one bit to the next, putting it in order then piecing it together to make a whole picture. I mean… [gestures vaguely at the sizeable chunk of my blog that’s dedicated to digging up the history of the Chocolate Milk Gang]... obviously I don’t think we can have too much of that. But a reviewer trying to rate its objective merits could call that a little unoriginal. They could also say a few other negative things about it that would at least make some kind of sense. Honestly, I don’t think it’s his best work. That’s all relative, of course; I still think it was very well written and I hugely enjoyed getting to hear it, because “not his best work” by Kitson’s standards is still light years ahead of most people. But to be fair, I can see some legitimate ways to criticize it. One of those ways is not to say, “Why you have you just told me a weird story about a bike club that had no other purpose?” Because I’ve checked, and can confirm that it does in fact have a purpose. You fucking idiot.

Do you think Animal Farm is a book about what it would be like if pigs could talk?

I am completely aware, by the way, that none of this matters in the slightest. I’ve had a terrible day and thought that going on a long rant about something incredibly unimportant would serve as a distraction, and getting mad at someone who’s done something annoying but not that bad would be a good outlet. So fuck you, reviewer I came across by accident once. Fuck you. Thank you for your time.

[ze-pie]

I'm so excited for the news of a new sk8 season you have no idea 😭 I really thought we'd be getting a movie at best

I scribbled down a bunch of my thoughts and hopes for season 2 so read on if you're interested! (Warning, very long, and half of that is bc i ramble about renga lolol)

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My god i can actually make a list of things id love to see in Season 2 and not be like "no dont do that bc then youre gonna get your hopes up that there will even be a s2" but its actually happening holy shit lol ok anyways:

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1. ARREST ADAM. IM NOT FUKN PLAYING LOL GET HIS ASS ARRESTED AND CHARGED FOR SUMTHIN JESUS LORD. Literally my only major criticism with the show is that Adam didnt go to prison by the end of the season so it HAS to fuckin happen this time. I want that red haired investigator lady to win so bad please catch his ass.

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2. Ever since this idea was planted in my head, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it, but I want the sk8 gang to travel! Like not just to a hot springs like I want them to travel and skate across Japan and even elsewhere (bonus points if we somehow get Renga in Canada), I think the change of scenery would be really interesting, especially if they went somewhere like Tokyo. I'm just a sucker for friends traveling arcs in general, and this also could go hand in hand with my next point:

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3. I think it would be interesting if "S" died out at some point this season, whether through Adam arrest (🤞) or bc of the aforementioned traveling we just dont see much of "S" this series, or if the characters simply grow out of "S" naturally (honestly the one I'd most prefer.) I think it would be another good ride home to the central theme of the show about doing things you like bc they're fun and not bc of any clout or approval ranking. 

And honestly, I think we've explored as much of "S" as we could while keeping it interesting. Not to say there shouldn't be more competing, that's like half the show lol, but i think the location of "S" will start to get a little repetitive after a while. This is why going somewhere like Tokyo would be a perfect refresh of the format, bc you can skate in new locations with different types of people than the typical underground flamboyancy of "S" (as wonderful as it is.)

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4. Matchablossom past!🍵🌸 I'd love to see it, this is definitely not the ship that receives the most of my love in the show but I do still enjoy watching them, so id love to get some nice meat to their relationship for me to keep sinking into (〃^∇^)ﾉ

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5. It was hinted that Koyomi would become a great skater in due time and I'd love to see that realized! I think she'd make a fun addition to the sk8 gang and personally I think Koyomi and Miyas personalities and snark levels would make for the funniest fucking comedy I just, I can hear their mean spirited chaotic banter from back here.

I know some people like to think they'd be wholesome friends but like,,,,, they're both little shits,, what you think you put them together and they'll just. Get along?? I mean maybe, but for me it sounds funnier if they just cant stand each others guts but are also, hilariously enough, inseparable (which maybe is too similar to matchablossoms shtick but I feel like that's more married couple bickering than anything so I feel like it'd be different enough.) Like they're both little shits but they're little shits in different fonts so they're still little shits to eachother god give it to me.

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6. ALSO LITTLE BROTHER MIYA BIG BROTHER REKI PLS ITS THE CUTEST THING IN THE WORLD TO ME I WANNA SEE MORE OF IT

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7. I also want to know more about Reki's friend that stopped skating (and Reki's past in general), and I wouldn't even mind that skate friend temporarily returning to Reki's life and giving Langa certain... complicated feelings >:)

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8. Obviously wanna know more about Langa's past as well. Did he have any family on his dad's side? How did his dad die? Are we gonna see more flashbacks/scenes where the Japanese voice actor is trying his damndest to sound like he's fluent in English? Will I have to be subject to hearing that once more? Who's to say.

(ok, wouldn't it be so cool tho if they did have full scenes where langa is speaking english, but they went and got the english voice actor to do the lines??? I feel like that would be so cool and his voice is so similar to the japanese va that it wouldn't even be jarring switching back and forth)

((i dont know anything about how voice actor laws work or if this is at all possible but a girl can dream lolol))

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9. i cant fucking believe theres a season 2 i m justbrbeshagw i cant do itmmtgus

i was gonna say i can die happy but thats a lie if i die i cant watch season 2 and it might not be out till at least late next year oh god i have to NOT DIE TILL THEN OMG ILL BE SO MAD

renga renga renga RENGA RENGAAAAA,

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OKAY actually on that topic, last note, hopes for Renga:

10. I don't want Reki and Langa to get in another big fight again like last season. Not that there was anything wrong with their s1 fight as a story device, bc I reaaally liked that conflict. It made sense with their characters and gave them both a bit of introspection on who they are as people, and who they are to eachother, and what the other truly means to them, and it ultimately brought them closer together. I just want that to stay true this season.

And I guess I shouldn't say fight, they're totally allowed to get into arguments and maybe even intense ones (as cute as their reunion was, they clearly didn't actually talk about everything that was bothering them, and I couldn't tell if that was anime being anime or teenagers being teenagers. Maybe both?)

I just don't want them to be made to break up again. Conflict between them is fine (it could even be spicy depending on the context >:3c) but I don't want it to drastically sever their connection like last time. It would be nice if it's like: "Okay, this is clearly a problem, and I am upset, but I now know that ghosting you isn't the answer, we have a true bond somewhere here, and I think we can get through this" I am not a script writer lol but you know, show a bit of growth! It would be lovely to see.

And hehe definitely self-indulgent but this point could actually be swayed for me if the situation is an explosion of jealousy and unacknowledged more-than-platonic feelings, creating a different kind of emotional tension than last conflict, where its less about self esteem issues, inadequacy and betrayal, and more of: "I might be in love with him, but I cant tell him bc I honestly don't even understand my feelings myself, and that stresses me out, and now were both stressed out and we don't know why bc were dumb teenagers who don't know how to communicate our feelings.😭"

lol obviously this^ is very dependent on of course there actually being a romantic storyline between the two, which like, actually it typing out with words as if its a possibility.... i can practically see the clown nose and wig materializing on my desk ready for me to put on lol i refuse to entertain that it's a possibility for my own sanity.

If there's anything I for sure want to see as their relationship develops, it's learning how to communicate, cause I still think there's a few things left unsaid between them (esp on Rekis part, things that Langa might like to at least be aware of?)

🛹🛹🛹🛹🛹🛹🛹🛹🛹🛹🛹

Overall I will simply be happy just,,, seeing my boys doing things again, hanging out together, new canon adventures 🥲🥺 I'm so happy, another full season of my babies ❤💙❤💙❤💙

[boldlyvoid]

Of Quartz I Will

Amethyst You So Much✨ Part 2: Of Quartz I Will

Summary: after 2 years of dating, Spencer decides it's finally time to get Y/N something to match her Amethyst bracelet.

Warnings: fluff, gun violence, shooting tw, Reid's season 5 knee injury, hurt/comfort, emotional smut, body massage, hand jobs, riding, penetrative sex.

word count: 6K

Spencer notices her as she walks in, through the briefing room window, she’s wearing his purple shirt. He wanted to wear that for work today but couldn’t find it anywhere, now he knows why.

“Excuse me,” he says to his group of teammates as they contribute reading case files.

“Hey,” Spencer grabs her attention from the railing beside the briefing room. “I’ve been looking for that shirt everywhere.”

“It’s mine now,” she smiles, setting her things down at her desk for the night. “I’ll buy you a new purple dress shirt.”

“Buy yourself one, I like that one,” he whines.

“Finders keepers, doctor Reid. Either stop leaving your shit on my bedroom floor or move in already.”

Everyone hears it. All eyes are on them as they bicker in the middle of the bullpen, including the team of profilers just beyond the window.

“Okay,” he agrees. “We’ll talk about this later.”

She climbs the stairs quickly, giving him a good morning hug even though it was 9pm. “I love you, that’s why I’m wearing your shirt.”

He smiles against her shoulder as he holds her, “I love you, more so in my shirt.”

When he sits back down at his chair at the round table, everyone is waiting with a raised brow. They want details, they want his opinion, they want to hear him stutter and see him blush like he used to. But he doesn’t.

“Yes, I will be moving in with her. We have people to save,” Spencer reminded them. Avoiding eye contact and flipping through the files.

Derek tugs on his amethyst bracelet, he hasn’t taken it off since he got it, almost 2 years ago. “Are you ever going to get her any other jewellery?”

“When she goes home I’ll show you,” he whispers, still avoiding eye contact as they all gasp. “Keep it cool or I will kill you.”

He keeps an eye on her at her desk, smiling when she looks up to see him. She blows him a kiss and waves softly a few times, but other than that, they don’t talk for the rest of the day.

—

The next time She sees him, he’s in her bed sound asleep as she’s coming home from work. She sits on the edge of the bed and brushes his hair away from his face to wake him up gently, he blinks into the morning sunlight to see her.

“Good morning,” he smiles.

She’s in his pink shirt today. She liked to keep something of his close on bad cases that take him out of town. In this case, out of the country. He was in Canada for a few days, the case was horrific and she had to deal with all the office work in Penelope’s absence.

“Amethyst,” she whispers, it was part of their secret code.

Spencer, being a cunning linguist, he loved anagrams.

They had Amethyst for I miss you, Quartz for of course, and Olive for I love you. It was easier to keep the PDA to a minimum at work, not wanting to sit in a seminar like Derek and Penny about sexual misconduct and hostile work environments.

“Olive,” Spencer replies, pulling her down into the bed so she can cuddle in.

“We can’t stay, there’s another case. JJ told me to bring you in on my way home,” she explains softly. “They need you to go to ER Doctor Barton’s house, in McLean, he got a note saying someone was going to kill his son. So far they’ve also connected him to a few surrogate kills of Hispanic men, they need the speed reader to go through all his recent surgeries.”

He sighs, holding her tightly and snuggling in against her back, “no.”

She laughs, “Spencer, you can read really fast and the faster you read the faster you can come home to me.”

“Fine,” she has perfect logic, he always tells her that. “Are you driving me to the guy's house?”

“Yep, so we can stop for coffee and talk in the car, I really did miss you a lot,” she struggles out of his grasp to turn and face him, opting to hold his face in her hands as she looks at him. He’s exhausted, just like her.

“I missed you too, I’m sorry I was gone so long,” his voice is barely a whisper, “We should take a day off together soon.”

“Yeah,” she smiles wider, completely in love with him. “I’d really like that, maybe we can look at apartments?”

“Apartments?” He repeats the word with a grin, raising his eyebrow softly. “I thought you liked it here?”

“It’s too small, I want to get a cat, if you’re bringing your closet here we’re going to need a bigger one,” she ranted. “And actually, I was thinking if you’re on the same page as me and this is a long-term thing for you too, what if we just got a bigger place and got a mortgage and start a little life outside the FBI, together?”

He’s so in love with her, “get my bag?” Is all he can say.

“What?” She’s so confused, shaking her head softly as she comprehends it.

“On the floor there, grab my bag, please there’s something for you in there,” he points behind her, trapped under her and the blanker so it’s not like he could get it himself.

She gets up, placing the bag on the bed for him as she watches him dig through it for a little box. “Arminius helped me pick this out.”

He had become best friends with the owner of the rock shop, she wasn’t surprised to hear that he had gotten something else from there for him. It made her giggle with excitement, bouncing softly as Spencer sat up and moved his bag out of the way.

But then he got out of bed, he’s in a pair of purple boxers and his hair is a mess and he’s so nervous and she has no idea why until he gets down on one knee.

“I was waiting to do this.”

“Holy shit.”

He nods with a shaky laugh, “yeah, I’m in it long term if you are?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to drive you to work now?” She laughs, unable to stop smiling as the two of them stare hopelessly at each other. She hasn’t even looked at the ring yet, too occupied with the wonderfully happy look on his face.

“Quartz,” is all she can say, flabbergasted as she keeps laughing with a shocked smile.

He takes it from the box and she watches as he slides the most beautiful purple Amethyst ring over her ring finger and then her hands are back on his cheeks. Pulling him into a kiss, she can’t seem to hold him close enough as she breathes in. Holding her breath as she keeps him there.

He pulls away with a laugh, “when are we supposed to be there?”

“Now.”

“Damn,” they’re all giggles.

And it doesn’t stop, she takes off Spencer’s shirt and he puts it on instead, matching it with a vest and a tie while she makes him a coffee and can’t stop smiling as she glances at the ring.

It really only made sense for their engagement to happen in the same place she fell in love with him.

Sure, she liked him a lot when he was getting her rocks and she really wanted to get to know him more after his last note, but it was the bracelet that made her fall in love. He went out of his way to make her smile on what felt like the worst day of her life, and she knew she wanted forever with him from then on out. Now she was going to get it, she was going to be Agent Y/N Reid, and her ring was absolutely perfect.

He catches her taking photos of it in the sunshine when he comes out of the bedroom. She still can’t stop smiling, it’s just so perfect and she’s just so in love with him.

They get muffins from the bakery under her apartment before getting in her car, “where is it?” Spencer asks, playing the role of GPS whenever they drove together.

“120 Kensington Road, McLean Virginia,” she members it clearly.

“Take a right,” Spencer smiles, and she’s off.

She drives with one hand, looking at her ring almost more than the road as Spencer held her other one. She pulled up to the Doctor’s house and he didn’t want to leave. Sighing, he looked at her with puppy dog eyes.

“I will see you when you get home, I’m going to call out after this case is done and you get mandatory 24 hours off for back-to-back cases,” she said, knowing protocol almost better than him. “Go to work.”

“Fine,” he frowns again, getting out of the car and walking around to her door. She rolls the window down and tilts her chin up, leaning out for the kiss he’s waiting to give her.

“Let me know when you’re done, I can come and pick you back up,” she whispers against his lips between kisses.

One last smooch and he pulls away, backing up so he isn’t tempted to stay any longer, “olive.”

“Olive,” she replies with a smile, waving slightly before he disappears behind the door.

She releases a long sigh, melting into the chair as she lets the butterflies swarm around a bit in her stomach, it felt wonderful.

She went home, napped from 10 till 2 and then sat in bed to stare at her beautiful ring for a little while. She couldn’t believe he proposed just like that. All she asked was if he wanted to get a mortgage on a house and she guesses he heard "spend the rest of your life with me."

Sometimes, when Spencer was on a case in Virginia and too busy to keep her updated, she would turn on the police radio and listen to what was going on around in the area. It was good to keep her mind preoccupied and to remind herself that he was safe.

At least that’s what it used to do.

“Shots fired at 120 Kensington Road, McLean Virginia, 10-999, 11-41, all units in the area are requested.”

“10-999, officer down, 11-41, send ambulances,” she whispers to herself, remembering all the dispatch lingo from the office.

She doesn’t have time to panic, she unlocks her safe and grabs her gun, loading it and then she’s out the door, in her car and pulling up behind the sheriff's car as she’s running out.

She tosses her badge up to show the cops as she tries to run onto the scene, “I’m an FBI agent on his team, let me through!”

She slides her knees along the grass, surely ruining her jeans as she dives for him. She places a hand on his bloody knee and looks everywhere else, “are you okay? Are you good? Holy shit, Spence?”

Her breathing is so heavy, she clutches her chest with her left hand and tries to calm down as he looks up at her and they breathe in and out a few times without breaking eye contact. He’s completely fine, there’s just a bullet in his knee, he assures her.

“I’m fine,” he laughs lightly, wincing at the pain as he leans forward to kiss her gently.

She’s there only 2 minutes before Derek, JJ and Rossi are pulling up on the scene. Everyone huddled around them on the grass as the EMTs bandaged his knee up before taking him to the ambulance.

“You need to call Emily,” Spencer speaks over everyone, “something happened to Hotch, I’m fine here with Y/N, just go see him.”

He was always going to be fine with her, that was for sure. She never left his side, except when they took him in for surgery and forced her back into the waiting room. But as soon as he was okay again, his hand was in hers.

—

He was given a month off after his knee surgery, but he still ended up in the office most nights. Becoming more of a night owl than usual as he accompanied his fiancé to her desk and sat beside her as she did her work. It was really nice to spend time with her and not have to do anything.

Of course, he filled his time by going over other case files, things they weren’t able to get to as a team and things that didn’t fit the criteria of the BAU. He made phone calls and sent emails, helping small-town cops make simple connections and doing more good that way.

He sat at her desk, his leg resting over her lap as she made a few phone calls. Handing the background of the cases, filing off invoices and approvals. Dispatching units and requesting files and overrides from other departments. She was amazing.

She hangs up the phone, finally, after 45 minutes of rolling her eyes and sighing as she was transferred from office to office all around America. She places her hand on his leg and absentmindedly runs her hand along his shin, staring off at the desk, silently.

“Are you okay?”

She nods, “do you think you’re healed enough to start looking at places?”

He nods back, “actually, I already found one. Hold on,” he slides his leg off her lap and stands with his crutches, hobbling over to his desk where he looks through his files for a new folder.

When he comes back to her, he places the folder in her hands, “forever homes,” is listed on the tag and he sees her heart melt in her eyes. She opens the folder as he sits down, there are about 15 pages of house and apartment listings printed off.

“When did you do all this?” She whispered, shocked and not wanting to cry at work.

“Before I got shot, I was on the phone with Penelope and I asked her to help me find some, she printed off like 50 and I selected the good ones, but there’s more if you don’t like an-“

“Babe,” she cut the rant short, “I’m sure I’ll love any of them, as long as they come with you.”

He pulls a specific sheet from the pile, “this one is my favourite.”

She can see why, it’s a large, green exterior, Victorian home. There’s a turret and a porch, large windows with a bench seat in the kitchen. A garage, 4 bedrooms, a finished basement, a study and a pretty nice backyard.

“It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, but Derek said he’s willing to help teach me how to fix some stuff,” Spencer pressed his lips together awkwardly. He really wanted this on.

“Let’s get a Realtor and set up a walk-through,” she agreed, “and we should bring Derek because he’ll know more than most inspectors anyway. I don’t want to get a place with a cracked foundation or a faulty water heater.”

He smiled again, “remember last week when I had that extra appointment?”

She tilted her head, “no, there is no way you’ve already been there to check it out without me.”

“And I put an offer in, but I was waiting for your approval,” he adds, nervous for her to hate it.

“With what money? I thought we were doing this together?” He’s not sure why she’s upset, normally she loves his surprises.

“When I sold my moms house, I invested the money and it’s been gaining interest for years now,” his voice is soft, “I got through college with scholarships and if I was ever down on money I just had to go to one casino and I always leave with two grand, minimum, I promise, I’m really in this for the long run. I know what I'm doing.”

She smiles, picking up the listing and calling the agency. “Hi this is Y/N Y/L/N calling, my fiancé, Doctor Spencer Reid, recently put an offer in on the listing for 247 Chestnut Drive, I’d love to come and see it soon and take some measurements and things. If you could call me back…”

Spencer is so in love with her it hurts. He wants to scream right then and there, like a kettle on a hot stove for too long, he’s bursting at the seams. She hangs up the phone with the best smile he’s ever seen, “I’m going home early, cause I’m sick, care to join me?”

She stands then, putting her hand out for him so he could stand with her help. “Quartz,” he replies, taking her hand and stands, she gathers their things and she clocks out. No one really cared about all her sick days, she did her job well and they wanted the good doctor to be taken care of.

When he finally gets to show her the inside of the house, she is so in love with it. The hardwood is all original, same with the railings, shelves, banisters and countertops. They're all rustic and beautiful, she can’t help but run her finger over everything as she looks around with an open mouth. X

The kitchen cabinets are green, there is a beautiful colourful wallpaper as a backsplash… and it’s completely empty. It was a remodel, some house flippers did it up and didn’t want to stay. It was made more modern, updated appliances and every safety protocol met. It was perfect.

She turned to him with a smile after only 5 minutes of looking, “this is it.”

“Good,” the women showing them around said, “because your offer was approved, with your say so I can get everything started with escrow.”

“Holy shit!” Y/N cheered, jumping a bit and showing off while Spencer just leaned on his crutch. She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek a few times.

“You can start that paperwork,” Spencer smiled, holding her back with his face in the crook of her neck.

—

The hardest part of moving is transporting all of Spencer’s books from one home to another. It's at least 30 boxes of books and Derek will be faxing his chiropractor bill to Spencer within the week.

His office here was huge, floor-to-ceiling oak shelves and green walls, full of all his books and belongings now. It was his own space in the house he shared with his future wife.

It felt crazy to him.

She used to just be the cute girl in the office, he can remember the exact moment he laid eyes on her. She was walking around aimlessly with some files in her hands when he turned around at his desk. She looked lost, overwhelmed and like she was about to have a breakdown.

She looked at him with the same fear he felt on his first day, he took the file from her and knew exactly where it was meant to go. She followed behind him, quiet as a mouse as he placed it in a folder by the wall under a sign that said "Anderson."

He turned with a press-lipped smile and a nod and then they went their separate ways. Silent conversations became their thing, the only time he really heard her voice was when she called him in in the middle of the night or when he heard her on the phone.

Other than that; she smiled when they passed each other, she’d tap her watch when he needed to be doing something Hotch asked for and was preoccupied with something else, she even knew exactly what he was looking for by just observing his chaos. Always able to pull a sheet of paper from the bottom of the stack with ease, and always silently, until that one day she said sorry to him after slamming the phone.

Now he knows that she talks in her sleep, she likes to go over her plans out loud in the shower every morning, and she sings all day long. Be it little tunes, hums, random tongue clicks or whistling, she’s always making noise. His favourite, however, was when sometimes she’d remember something she was trying to remember during a conversation they had, 4 days prior, and she’d scream it out like he knows what she’s thinking every second of every day.

He was in love with her voice, he never wanted to stop hearing it.

He was in love with her face, he never wanted to stop seeing it.

He was in love with her body, he never wanted to stop touching it.

He was in love with her mind, he never wanted to stop exploring it.

All those thoughts rushing to his brain and rushing a new form of butterflies for him. Like anxiety, but happier. Like he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her. It was anticipation rather than fear.

She really was it for him, and as he unboxed his life into the house they were about to share for the upcoming future, it all became very real. This was how the rest of his forever was going to look with her. All their memories from here on out were going to take place in this house, in these rooms.

When he picked this house, it was just a fun idea, and now he looks at the hardwood floors and thinks about how wet baby feet are going to sound during bath time. He wonders how many times the creaky steps are going to let him know she’s coming up to bed, he wonders what screaming matches and fights and love-making will happen beyond the bedroom door across from his study.

He wonders if she’s going to love him as long as he wants to love her.

He opens his study door then, “Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?” She calls up from the bottom of the stairs.

“Can you come up here?”

She marches up the stairs, still not used to the creaky staircase or the length of stairs she had to climb, soon enough, she’s on the second floor and walking into his study, “what’s up?”

He doesn’t know how to ask, he doesn’t even really know what he wants actually. He just missed her, and she was only just downstairs.

“Can I have a hug?”

It comes out more pathetic than he predicted, cringing at the embarrassment as he shrunk into the couch.

“Quartz,” her voice is soft as she approaches him.

Sitting on the brown leather couch that was once in his apartment, she wraps her arms around him and he holds her back softly.

Resting his head on her shoulder, he just wants to hold her for a while. Eventually, they end up laying down with her on his chest, still holding each other as silent as they were in the beginning.

“I love you,” Spencer whispers against her hair.

She snuggles in more, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder softly, “I love you, too, are you okay?”

He nods softly, “I was just thinking about everything and I wanted to hold you.”

She swoons, “do you remember the first night we cuddled like this?”

He nods again, brushing his chin against her head each time, “it all feels like history repeating like it’s supposed to be this way for us.”

“I like to think so,” she agreed. “I actually think you’re my twin flame.”

He hums, thinking about it, “I’m not sure I know what that means.”

“So soulmates are kind of like mirror souls, they are exactly everything that the other needs and they fill the missing parts for each other." She explains softly and he can already tell where her rant is going.

"I don’t think that’s us because we are too similar; sometimes we butt heads and don’t see eye-to-eye, and you drive me crazy a lot of the time because we have the same anxiety and daddy issues, but it’s also because you do things I think about doing and then I can’t do them because they're done already and they’re my calm down things so then I have nothing to calm down with, like yesterday-“

“Babe,” he whispers, “I know, we finish each other’s sandwiches, that’s what your niece said when she saw us together.”

It makes her smile and he can feel her cheekbone against his chest, “twin flames are what happens when one soul is ripped in half and sent to two bodies. They’re capable of surviving separately, as long as they have the right kindling, but they burn brighter together.”

“People sometimes think fire is living because it consumes and uses energy, requires oxygen, and moves through the environment,” Spencer says softly, “have you ever seen something catch fire on both ends?”

“Yeah, a few times, why?”

“It’s never about burning the item entirely, both fires are only concerned with connecting to each other for mass destruction. They always burn in the strangest patterns, but they always connect first before devouring the victim.”

She sits up to look at him, “are you saying I devoured you?”

“That would be de-flowered,” he teases, “but no, I’m saying it makes sense. We really have been burning through everything to find each other.”

“I cannot believe you just said I de-flowered you before the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said,” she laughs, “and it was a mutual de-flowering, might I remind you.”

“I will never forget,” he coos, leaning forward and pressing his lips against hers.

She pushes him back against the couch, it’s been forever since they’ve really done anything. With moving, Spencer’s recovery, her working nights and sleeping all day. It hasn’t been rewarding in a long time, it’s just been enjoyable.

“No,” he whispers as she starts to trail kisses down his neck. “I’m not having sex on the couch the first time we do it in the house.”

She laughs against his neck, pushing herself off the couch and extending a hand to him, “did the doctor even say you can yet?”

“I can’t do all the work, but I can give a second opinion?” He couldn’t stop the grin on his face as she hauled him to his feet.

“Let me heal you,” she whispers, and he knows exactly what she means.

She lays him down on their bed, on top of the covers with no clothes on as she gathers her things. She closes the blinds, turns on her amber lamp, and lights her candles. But his favourite thing that she adds is the sound therapy… helping the water in his body vibrate at the right frequency to calm him completely. She’s going all out for this one.

Much like the first time.

She’s naked too, both of them completely unfazed by each other’s naked form by now. She sits between his legs with all her chakra stones in her hands and she sets them down on his stomach before arranging them in order where they’re supposed to help on his body.

The Amethyst is just above his head for his crown chakra, touching his scalp gently. He closes his eyes as she places a Lapis Lazuli on his third eye, in the centre of his forehead. An Aquamarine on his throat. Rose Quartz on his heart, Tiger’s Eye on his solar plexus, Pyrite on his belly button and finally, Fire Agate at his core.

He always felt so totally relaxed like this, even the first time she ever laid him down like this. He was so calm, he knew he was in good hands and seeing her bless the room made him feel even better.

“Only good may enter here,” the words she repeats every full moon when she opens the windows and blessed the whole house. Keeping them safe, happy, healthy and loved.

She kissed the scar on his knee, causing him to open his one eye to see her. She was laying between his legs now, head resting on his hip as she lightly ran her fingers over his knee, ticking the skin where he finally had feeling again. It took forever for the numbness to go away, even longer for the pain. But she was so patient with him the whole time, taking the best care of him.

She doesn’t mind that he’s hard, she’s very close to his dick as it rests on his stomach beside the crystal.

She kisses his hip, inching each kiss over until she’s pressing one right to the shaft of his dick and he takes a deep breath. Knowing she’ll stop if he forgets how to do the breathing exercises she showed him. He wasn’t allowed to tense his body, this was about pleasure and there was no rush.

For either of them.

He’s done this for her a few times over the years too, just as slow and sensual as she was being. It was calming, rewarding, they bonded with each other and really felt like one being this way.

He heard a cap open, but he was so used to it by now that it filled him with contentment rather than excitement. He remembers the first time she said she wanted to do this, getting some skin-safe, homemade, vegan massage lube and almost turning inside out with how awkward she was asking to do this for their first time.

She sat on her knees between his legs with a small bounce as she got excited about her favourite part. She sat with the bottle resting between her thighs, warming up while she ran some of it over her hands. She massaged his thighs first, getting all the knots and making sure there was no “Charlie's on any horses”, the first time she said that he almost cried laughing and ruined the mood for a little.

She took the rocks off him then, sitting more on his hips as she drizzled the warm oil on his chest. He let his hands rest on her knees, wanting to feel her skin while she felt his. Her hands felt like magic, running over his chest, arms and shoulders like this was her job. She knew every crook, every cranny, every pressure point and soft tissue on him. His body was just as much her’s now.

It's when she presses her body flat against his that he knows the mood is changing. Her breasts are flat against his chest, her hands are behind his head as she looks down at him, her groin pressed right against him as he aches for contact, grinding up into her slowly as she stares into his eyes.

“Better?” She whispered with a small smile, already feeling how much calmer he was, she just wanted confirmation.

“Much,” he’s just as quiet in his reply. “If I don’t bend that knee, it’ll be fine.”

“I don’t mind doing all the work, baby,” she kisses him quickly, “I know you like it more like this anyway.”

She slithers down his body then, his body slick with oil as she easily glides down and creating the most wonderful amount of friction with him. He groans, tossing his head back against the Amethyst on his scalp.

She sits on his good thigh, avoiding pressure with his bad knee like he was an old man now. She makes contact with the only part she didn’t message, adding more of the massage lube to her hand before lazily jerking him off. He keeps a hand on her thigh, groping and managing her right back as she kept a perfect rhythm.

She occasionally grinds against his thigh, mostly when he moans and groans. Extremely turned on by him having a good time, proud of herself for relaxing him, always complaining that he was too tense, she really knew how to release the pressure.

Just as she gets into it, the calming sounds of rain and high-pitched frequencies come to an end… Rhiannon starts playing and he literally watches her come alive; changing her rhythm to match the beat as she starts to grind against him more, she only added his song to the queue, somehow an hour had passed and her music was resuming.

And when Spencer said she was eclectic, he meant she could go from listening to a rare Canadian band called the Tragically Hip, to Kanye West, Taylor Swift, Evanescence and back to Fleetwood Mac. He had no idea where the mood was about to go.

He moved his hand up her thigh as he tried to power through the pleasure, her hand was so amazing he was bubbling away under his skin. He manages to get his middle finger between his leg and her, massaging her clit as she bucked her hips down on him.

Mutual pleasure in any sense was enough for them, seeing the other being perfectly content after everything they went through; it was euphoric. She leans up then and kisses him desperately, unable to stop stroking him as she sucked his tongue into her mouth.

She smiles against his mouth as the song changes again, it’s the song from the ending of Dirty Dancing, he knows how much she loves that movie. Her kisses get softer, she’s so gentle as she strokes him just a few more times before throwing a leg over his hips and lowering herself onto him in one go. Bottoming out faster than before, both of them making the same moan as they curled forward for each other, mouths clashing as they held onto each other.

Grinding together, Spencer kept a hand on her to help her ride as she was preoccupied with her hands in his hair and kissing his neck as they moved in tandem. It was so good, he was incredibly close but he wanted to hold off as long as possible to feel her finish first.

His ultimate pleasure was knowing she was pleasured, he massaged her clit once more between their bodies and she shuttered, “right there,” her words are small as she kisses under his ear, tugging his hair softly as he moans so she can lick at his neck as she moves her hips up and down, gloriously.

He can’t keep his eyes open, everything is too much and he’s so relaxed; it’s like his body is floating on a cloud as she rides him like they’re actually in heaven. He was really having the time of his life and it made him smile at the end of the whimper he released as she tightened around him suddenly and on purpose.

She moves faster, and so does his wrist as he helps her over the edge first. She’s panting in his ear as she rides him with purpose. She cums with a gasp and then he’s gone, her whole body stuttering as she let out the most relaxed and uncontrollable moan he’s ever heard from her.

His grip on her ass tightens as he holds her hips down, he cums with a gasp and it’s so powerful he passes out.

—

He’s so cute when he sleeps.

She’s got him all cleaned up, everything put away and where it’s supposed to be in their new room. She just lays beside him as she watches him nap, blissed out and relaxed, she doesn’t even care that it’s such a typical guy thing to fall asleep right after.

That was kind of her mission.

He’s been so stressed, he wasn’t going to tell her because he didn’t want his stress to become her stress like it so often did. Feeding off each other like a fire, he really knew how to give a phrase to a feeling. But he was stressed because he was in pain from his knee and no matter how much he lied and said he was fine, she knew he wanted to relieve the pain but he was afraid of even taking a Tylenol.

This is the most relaxed he’s been in months.

She ordered a pizza while he was asleep, it arrived before he woke up too. She sets the pizza box, 2 bottles of pop and a roll of napkins at the end of the bed, gently, before getting back into her spot.

She brushed his hair from his face and kissed the tip of his nose gently, seeing him scrunch his face and swallow before blinking awake. She smiled at him, “Hi, sleepyhead.”

“Hello, beautiful.”

“I ordered pizza,” she whispers.

“Olive,” he replies.

“Well yeah,” it makes her giggle but she has to say it, “I got our regular green olives, mushrooms and extra cheese.”

He laughs too, extra happy after both the sex and his nap. “I love you,” he says the full thing this time.

She presses another kiss to his lips before hauling him into a sitting position, “I love you, too.”

It’s the best night of her life so far.

the house

Taglist: @dreatine for inspiring a part 2 <3

@shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

[multiplefandomsblog]

Nagito has to deal with his dumbass s/o who set a fucking fire because they’re a dumbass

Yes I set a fucking fire, here is what I wrote when I was freezing in the outdoors to escape the plastic cheese smell.

I know this is bad but mind you, I wrote this with numb thumbs in the middle of March in the outdoors of fucking CANADA. EVERYDAY IS WINTER HERE DHSIJAOD

warnings; ^cussing.. , tw; no explicit detail of fire but more the aftermath of a fire, this is garbage but I needed to get out of my slump so this is my mind jumble(yes I have another slump), established relationship, y’all living together, kinda domestic? I guess? Set in the COVID-19 pandemic, wanted to make reader male but they’re more gender neutral, Nagito is a dumbass, but so are you, lazy ending, typos because my phone doesn’t have a good spell check, unedited, reader does an ultimate fail and fails life and cooking.

wc; 1.2k+ 

“Oh Jesus-“ Nagito ran in as soon as he heard the fire alarm blaring in the house. “S/o!? S/o, are you alright?” You let a groan that could barely be heard over the alarm. “Yeah.. yeah, it just- fuck, I’m sorry Nagito, it smells like burnt garbage here.”

Nagito opened his mouth with an ironic grin on his face, to which you shoved a finger to his face. “Don’t.”

His green eyes crossed to your finger, an awkward laugh erupting from the male as he closed his eyes. “You can read me like an open book, huh? Well, if you won’t let me say that; you have to at least let me apologize..! This whole thing was the consequence of my luck after all.” Nagito spoke, eyes apologetic, yet his tone had been weirdly cheerful.

You frowned, “Nagito, stoooop, okay? I was the one who set the fire, not you.” You tried forcing a gentle smile, though it crumbled into a guilty one within seconds. “To think I could make a nice dinner for you...”

Nagito’s smile faltered at your shameful demeanour. Hearing distant footsteps, you perked your head up, only to get a face full of his warm, cotton-covered chest. “It’s alright. I appreciate the thought that you wanted to cook for someone like me.” He uttered, arms tightening just a bit before he pulled back to leave a peck on your forehead.

“And we can always order take-out instead.” His care-free smile made you forget about the smell of the nasty smoke for a split second; for such a self-deprecating man, he truly had the brightest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Oh.. O-okay.” You were slightly dazed, his dazzling smile had captured your consciousness and you had to be kissed one more time by him to finally snap yourself out of the daze.

“Nagito, what should w-“ he answered before you could finish, “Whatever you’d like!” His voice echoed out from the bathroom, the sound of running water following the nice melody of his voice. You assumed he had been running a washcloth for the stove you had demolished; after all—and he constantly reminds you of this—cleaning is the one thing he’s good at.

You smiled gently to yourself, he was a really really good boyfriend. Despite his ultimate, you were sure you were the lucky one.

Shaking your head and snorting, you went and ordered a pizza.

♧ ♧ ♧ ♧ ♧ ♧ ♧ ♧

Not long after meaningless conversation, Nagito’s occasional findings of money, and tripping on literally nothing, the door bell rang.

You made your way to the door, and to your surprise, the delivery person had already left before you could even tip them. I guess this was the world now, pandemic and all; oh well, you can still e-transfer them tips.

As your excited orbs landed onto the brown paper bag of food, you felt your excitement falter for a second, instead replaced by confusion. The paper bag was large, much larger for the single pizza you had ordered. You may be thinking, well it could’ve been air— but no. There were small divers and creases in the bag of where something lumpy, or pointy had been protruding out of.

You hesitantly picked up the bag, turning your head to look back down the road to see if you could maybe call the delivery service back before they had gotten out of your neighbourhood.

You frowned slightly to yourself as the street had been eerily empty. Shaking your head, you internally groaned; it was probably too late for them to take it back.

You took back your thought of e-transferring that delivery person, tips.

Okay, fine- fine! You weren’t a monster, you were probably just going to give them a bad review... and a good tip.

They work really hard okay! C’mon minimum wage— alright, we’re getting out of topic here.

Taking out your phone, you walked back inside the house with the heavy bag of food, gently placing it on the table with your eyes glued to the screen.

Me: hi! I think you gave us the wrong food... what should we do with it? Do we give it back?

Delivery: We sincerely apologize for the mix up! But unfortunately, we can’t take back any food orders. So you will be getting a full refund and you can keep the food.

Your eyes widened at the screen in your hands, ‘holy shit,’ your eyes darted to the receipt they had stapled to the paper bag.

It had read, 130.95$ worth of food.

You almost couldn’t believe it, more than a hundred dollars worth of food, and a 13 dollar refund for a pizza? Now that’s a deal.

Still gaping at the receipt like a fish, your eyes darted to the tall man with white hair wiping the stove with a focused fervour. This must have been the consequence of having Nagito as your boyfriend, huh? Perhaps consequence wasn’t the right word, more.. benefit.

There were too many benefits to count, but this was a definite one.

You slowly returned your wide optics back to your phone, thumbs typing a slow answer.

Me: alright, thank you!

Though you felt bad for— what you thought was— stealing from the restaurant, it’s not like they could do anything. It was COVID! Who knows what kind of diseases you could have put in the food?

You told yourself lies to make yourself feel better- but the need for lies dissipated as you peaked inside the bag.

Suddenly you didn’t feel so guilty anymore, more like starving man.

“Ohmygod— N-Nagito, come quick!” Your eyes bulged out of your sockets as you fanned your hand towards you in a, ‘come here now’ manner.

His ears perked up at the call of his name, and he obediently placed his cloth back on the stove, feet padding on the floor as he made his way to you. “What happene—?” You tugged at his sleeve, ripping open the paper bag aggressively to show him the boxes and boxes of food, all stacked tall. The paper bag had already been ripping at the top from how much food there was, you only did it a favour by letting it finally breathe.

“... How much did you order?” He felt cold sweat at the back of his neck, his metal arm reaching up to brush back the troublesome hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

“I ordered a pizza, a-apparently they gave us the wrong order, and so...” You stammered, too excited to speak properly. Gesturing to the bag for emphasis, you beamed, “Ta-da!”

To your surprise, Nagito had barely been dazed by the gigantic amount of free food. Why wasn’t he cheering in joy? Jumping in delight? Where was his reaction?

Fortunately and unfortunately for Nagito, he didn’t feel any shock as this happened quite often.

“Oh. I’m happy for you—” you cut him off, scoffing at his lack of reaction, “No, no, happy for us.” Looking up at him with a mischievous grin that had slightly worried the poor boy, you grabbed the bag in a hug and ran to the dining hall, crying out,

“Today we feast like fucking kings!”

Nagito laughed happily—worriedly, but happily—as he shut the front door you had forgotten about, the cold wind had been sending shivers down Nagito’s spine— though you seemed to be indifferent to it. He laughed as he realized you might have not noticed the freezing temperature, too invested in the gigantic amount of food.

Okay but just imagine the door shutting directly in front of the camera, and the screen goes black.

*roll credits*

[jaehyunhour]

teenage dream | mark lee

genre + idol → fluff, smut, tiniest bit of angst if you squint, high school au, virgin!mark (x virgin fem!reader) [they’re both 18]

word count → 4.7k

warnings → alcohol consumption, unprotected sex (always wear a condom pls guys), tiniest bit of cursing

summary → mark lee moves to your hometown halfway through your sophomore year of high school, and once he arrives you quickly fall in love with both him and the town you grew to hate. after you graduate, mark has a surprise for you that may or may not include going across state lines, losing your virginity, and asking for your hand in marriage.

“Mark, you can’t leave me. You’re my soulmate.”

“If I could marry you tonight, I would.”

“You know... it’s only about a 5 hour drive to Vegas from here.”

a/n → i’ve been writing this fic for well over a month and it’s finally done!! this fic is purely self-indulgent because 1) i’m in love with mark lee and 2) i think of him every time i listen to teenage dream by katy perry... as always please let me know what you guys think of this one! i think this is one of my favorite fics i’ve written

Before you met Mark, life was bleak. That was the only way to describe it. Your life was monotone, shades of light blue and gray; your daily routine was the same, you walked through life as a zombie and hated everything about your hometown. But when Mark showed up halfway through your sophomore year of high school, when his family moved from Canada, everything changed. You got to show him the ins and outs of the city, turn him into a real native, and fall in love — both with your hometown, and with him.

You can still recall the first time you got to show Mark what it’s like to be a local. You went downtown, taking the light rail and getting off at each stop, enjoying what the city has to offer, before getting back on and staring out the window at the scenery. Mark’s hand rested in-between both of your thighs in an attempt to warm himself, while the other pressed onto the glass window of the light rail and tapped lightly. You pointed out the window at different buildings, telling Mark the story of your life in this little town, and he sat quietly and listened. His gaze lingered on the moving buildings as you spoke, and he immediately felt his entire body warm. This is when Mark knew you were special.

Your high school graduation was bittersweet. You were choosing to go to a college only thirty minutes away from your home because of your family, and Mark was on the waitlist for his dream college in Korea. After all the names were called, and all the caps thrown in the air, Mark wove his way through all of the graduates and straight to you. He picked you up in his arms, spun you around quickly, and set you down.

“We did it,” he said, eyes wide and smile bright. He placed his hands on your face and squished your cheeks before pulling you into another hug. “I have something to tell you.”

“I can’t believe we graduated. Tell me,” you responded.

“I got off the waitlist.”

You let out a scream, pulling back from Mark and hitting him on the chest. “Oh my god, Mark! Holy shit, that’s incredible. So you’re going to Korea? W-when do you leave?” Your stomach drops at the realization that Mark will be going to an entirely different country soon, meanwhile you have to stay in a town that you love only because he’s in it. It’s not the same without him.

“I don’t leave until the beginning of September.”

“So you’ll get to move me into my dorm before you leave?”

“You think I would leave without seeing where you’re going to be living? I need to make sure that you’re being well taken care of in my absence. You know I’m kidnapping you and taking you with me to Korea if I don’t like the dorm, right?”

“I expect absolutely nothing less,” you said, both you and Mark’s families rushing up to you on the football field to congratulate you. Your families forced you to pose for photos, talked amongst themselves about your college plans, and made plans to throw you two a joint graduation party.

Two weeks after graduation, you’re laying down on the trampoline in your backyard as the sun is setting. It’s a Thursday night, your parents are out of town for the weekend and have left you home alone. You could throw a huge party, celebrate the end of senior year, but instead you choose to enjoy the alone time in your childhood home before you move out. You stare at the moving clouds, your chest sitting on your phone as you talk to Mark who’s currently driving.

“You know, I’m kinda mad that your parents still won’t let you come spend the night at my house. We’re 18! We’re adults,” you say.

Mark lets out a laugh. “My parents are scared that if they let me spend the night at your house that I’ll do drugs, join a gang, and get you pregnant all in one night.”

“Do I really give that vibe off? I thought your parents liked me! We’ve been inseparable for well over 2 years now.”

“They love you, you know that. You’re home, right?”

“Yuuuup,” you say, standing up quickly and jumping a few times on the trampoline. He can hear the creaking of the trampoline and whines.

“No fairrrrr, you’re jumping without me!” Mark says. You hear Mark close the door to his car and lock it. Before you can ask him where he’s headed, he walks through the front door of your house, through the living room, and out into the backyard. Mark hangs up the call, before jumping onto the trampoline with you. 

You get back down onto your back on the trampoline, grabbing at Mark’s leg and trying to pull him down with you. He lays next to you, rolling over so half of his body is on top of yours. He nuzzles his head into your chest and lets out a content sigh.

“You should really keep the doors locked when you’re home alone. What are your plans for tonight?” He asks.

“Mmm, probably watch a movie and eat something. I might raid my mom’s wine cabinet and finish a whole bottle by myself.”

“Woooow, look at you breaking the rules. Who are you and what have you done to my best friend?”

“I’m just trying to enjoy myself before college!”

“Look at what I got today,” Mark says, flopping onto his back and pulling an ID out of his pocket. He hands it to you and you inspect it carefully.

“This is a Korean ID,” you start. “Aaaand, it doesn’t even have your name.”

“Yeah! It’s a fake ID. Says I’m 21.”

“Why’d you pick Kim Soohyun for your name? And why do you need a fake ID? You’re legal in Korea, you can drink.”

“My mom says Kim Soohyun is my long lost brother, I thought it would be funny. I got it for tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Yep,” Mark says, plucking the ID out of your hands and shoving it back into his pocket. “Go pack a bag, we’re going on a road trip.”

“Where to?”

“It’s a secret, but it’s somewhere you’ve always wanted to go.” Mark lays on his side, and you can feel him staring at you. You turn onto your side to look at him. “Can you close your eyes for a second?”

You nod and close your eyes. Your heart begins beating faster and your breathing is labored. Before you can ask Mark what game he’s playing at, you feel Mark’s lips on yours. You gasp, returning his kiss, and he slips his tongue into your mouth. It’s not your first time kissing someone like this, but it’s definitely his and you can tell. His tongue peruses the inside of your mouth, and his lips are pressed firmly against yours. You try to push your tongue into his mouth in an attempt to control the kiss, but to no avail. Mark pulls back to catch his breath, and his eyes meet yours.

“You’re bad at that,” you whisper, letting out a giggle.

“Yeah, I thought I might be,” Mark says with a sigh.

“You’ll get better at it. W-we can practice,” you say, pecking his lips. “I’ll go pack a bag.”

Thirty minutes later, you’re sitting in the passenger’s seat of Mark’s car, watching him as he drives. His hands rest perfectly at 10 and 2, his lips pouting, and he watches the road ahead intensely. 

“You should probably sleep, it’s going to be a while before we get there.”

“How long?” you ask. You recline the seat and lay back, extending your hand out to rest on Mark’s thigh. “Hold my hand.”

One of his hands leaves the steering wheel and he intertwines your fingers with his. “About 16 hours? Just sleep, I’ll wake you up in like 8 hours so you can switch with me.” You nod, closing your eyes and willing yourself to go to sleep. 

You’re not sure how long you sleep, but when you wake up, Mark’s hand is still holding yours. The sun is shining through the windshield and you look over at Mark, who is also sleeping. You’re parked next to a gas station in what feels like the middle of nowhere. You check your phone: 8:35 a.m.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan, causing Mark to stir. You tear your hand away from his, shifting the seat up and pushing Mark to wake up. “Mark, get up.”

He groans too before sitting back up. “I just fell asleep.”

“Why did you let me sleep for so long? You drove for 12 straight hours! I’m going to go inside the gas station and buy some coffee, then I’ll drive the rest of the way. You can sleep until we get to wherever the hell you’re taking me.”

Mark tries to sleep for the remaining four hours of your drive, but he’s too excited to be able to sleep. Instead, he watches you drive and smiles proudly. Mark has always thought you are so beautiful, even in your current state — no makeup, hair messy from sleeping in the car, and bags underneath your eyes. He leans over and presses a rough kiss to your cheek before laying back down. 

“What’s gotten into you?”

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t like you. Yesterday before we left you practically shoved your tongue down my throat, and now you’re forcing me on a road trip. You’re not normally like this.”

“I just… I realized that I wasted so much time not doing the things I want to do with you, and I would’ve hated myself forever if I didn’t do it before I left to Korea.”

“You would’ve hated yourself forever if you didn’t make out with your best friend and force her to drive around before leaving to Korea?” You pause. “Where are we going?”

“Something like that. Uh… well, we’re in California,” Mark says, causing you to swerve.

“You brought me across state lines?! Maaaark, your parents are going to kill you!”

“They think I’m with Johnny-hyung for the weekend. Don’t worry, he’ll cover for me. I think we’re only like half an hour away from LA.”

“You’re insane, Mark. So so insane.”

“So this is Santa Monica, huh?” Mark says, looking out at the crashing waves in front of him and inhaling deeply, letting his lungs fill with the cool ocean air, sand getting stuck between his toes.

“This is so beautiful,” you whisper. “Thank you for bringing me, Mark.”

“I would do anything for you, I hope you know that,” Mark responds. He takes out a brown paper bag from his backpack, twisting off the cap of the bottle inside and taking a swig of it and gagging. You laugh, taking the bottle out of his hand and sniffing it before taking a drink yourself. 

“Why would you buy vodka? You know you can’t drink alcohol very well.”

“I wanted to see if my ID would work! It was pretty easy, I just handed it to the guy and spoke in Korean and he didn’t question it.” He takes the bottle out of your hand and takes another drink, this time more prepared and able to suppress the gag that bubbles in his throat. You turn to look at Mark, and he quickly shifts his head to stare back at you. Some people say they feel their heart skip a beat when the person they love looks at them, but when Mark looks at you, your heart stops completely. Your heart stops, your breath gets caught in your chest, and you stop blinking. You have to make a conscious effort to breathe in and out, and open and close your eyelids as Mark looks at you and overtakes your thoughts.

As you’re staring at Mark, memorizing every inch of his face as the Santa Monica sun sets, you feel your cheeks begin to heat up and your face begin to numb as the vodka hits you. He reaches out to pinch your cheek, smiling wide at your flushed face, and when you feel his fingers on your skin, you just know — this is real, this is love.

“You’re so cute,” Mark says.

“Says you.” You grab the bottle from Mark’s other hand, taking another deep chug before pressing the bottle to his lips. You tilt it and he drinks from it until he can’t handle the taste anymore, pushing it away slightly and letting you drop it between your bodies.

“Y/N, I—”

“Kiss me.”

Mark doesn’t need to be told twice; instantly pressing you down into the sand, body hovering above yours and attaching his lips to yours. He lets you lead the kiss this time, opening his mouth when he feels your tongue poking at his lips and allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth. Your tongue traces over his teeth, before meeting his tongue and playing with it. Your hands come up to hold onto his face, and he softens into your touch. Mark feels dizzy — both from the feeling of your tongue in his mouth and the vodka hitting him all at once. He pulls away, panting as he tries to catch his breath.

“I feel like I’m living a dream,” Mark says, staring at your face with something you can only describe as love in his eyes.

“I want to go swimming,” you respond, quickly sitting up without thinking and hitting your head against his. “Owie, I’m sorry, honey. Don’t know why I got up so quickly.”

Mark giggles and sits up, peeling his shirt off and dropping it on the sand. “Let’s go swimming.” He stands up, trying to kick his skinny jeans off as you stand up and start walking to the water. “Y/N! Take your jeans off at least.”

“Nuh-uh, I wanna go swimming,” you say, stumbling as you walk through the hot sand as quickly as you can and into the water. You don’t even register how cold the water is, quickly walking deep into the ocean and letting the waves go over your head. Mark rushes to catch up with you, walking into the ocean in only his underwear. He pulls you into his arms and you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, and rest your forehead up against his.

“I miss you already, Mark.”

“I don’t even leave for another 3 months.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to go,” you say quietly. Unwillingly, tears fall down your cheeks and mix with the salt water on your face.

“I’m so glad I finally found you,” Mark responds. “My missing puzzle piece. I’m complete.” He wipes the tears and water from your face and presses a kiss to your lips. 

“I can’t believe we’ve known each other for over 2 years and you waited for us to graduate before making a move on me,” you say, angrily pressing another kiss to his lips. “I’ve been in love with you since the day I took you downtown for the first time, Mark.”

“And I’ve been in love with you since the day you asked me to go downtown with you.”

“You’re so lame,” you say to Mark, just as a huge wave goes over your heads and crashes. You both burst into laughter and you untangle yourself from him, pushing the hair out of your face and trying to regain your breathe. You place your hands on Mark’s shoulders, letting them travel down his chest to the waistband of his underwear. You slip your fingers underneath, pulling the band back before letting it snap back on his skin. “Mark, have you ever… you know…”

He shakes his head no. “M-my mom told me I should s-save myself for someone special,” he says, nervously. “Have you, ever… you know…”

You shake your head no. “Let’s go all the way tonight. No regrets, just love. Just you and me.”

“Okay.”

You and Mark stumble into the Santa Monica Motel, only a 20 minute walk from the Santa Monica Pier, coming up to the front desk with your clothes still dripping and asking for whatever vacant room they have. The desk attendant rolls his eyes, handing you two a pair of room keys and sending you on your way. You walk into the room, one hand holding Mark’s hand, as the other held onto the mostly gone bottle of vodka.

As you walk into the room, Mark throws your things onto the floor and locks the door behind him. You drink half of what’s left in the bottle, giving the rest to Mark which he finishes quickly before stepping into the bathroom. As Mark is in the bathroom freshening up, you pull the sheets off the bed and throw them onto the floor. You then pull the cushions off the couch in the corner, attempting to make a fort in the tiny motel room. You set the cushions up, then use the pillows to try and complete the walls of your fort, before throwing a thin white sheet over everything and crawling underneath. Mark comes out of the bathroom and raises an eyebrow when he sees the mess you’ve created on the floor.

“Y/N?”

“Come meet me in the fort, honey.”

Mark crawls underneath the sheet carefully, trying not to destroy the fort he’s sure you worked hard on. Once he’s underneath and he sees your shirt sticking to your chest, and your skin-tight jeans seemingly sticking tighter to your skin, his heart begins to race.

“I don’t mean to sound like a broken record, but I feel like I’m living a dream,” Mark says, letting his hand rest on your stomach. You reach for his arm, pinching him slightly and he lets out a soft moan. “What was that for?”

“Just to remind you that this isn’t a dream. This is real, and I love you.”

“I love you,” Mark responds. You pull your wet shirt up and off your head, letting it fall to the floor before you unbutton your wet jeans and try to push them off.

“Mark, I need help,” you whine. He laughs before helping you pull your jeans down and setting them on the floor with your shirt. He looks at your entire body up and down, taking in the sight of your matching bra and underwear.

He groans. “Fuck, I really love you.” Mark lets his body hover over yours, quickly enveloping your lips in a quick, passionate kiss. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you and bucking your hips up to meet his. Mark feels himself harden in his underwear and he whines into your mouth at the feeling of you grinding up into him. Your hands grip onto his cheeks softly just as they did when you kissed on the beach, and one of his hands reaches up to pull your bra down and let your breasts free. His hands grab at your chest as if he’s done this before, fingers tugging and tweaking your nipples and you can’t help the moan that escapes your mouth and is caught by his. 

You rip his hand away from your chest, bringing it down into your underwear and pressing his fingers onto your clit. His fingers reach down to your entrance, teasing it softly before collecting your slick and returning to your clit. He pushes down roughly, rubbing in circles and your hips buck up again. This is the first time anyone else has ever touched you, and you quickly feel the knot forming in your stomach. 

“Mark, I’m gonna—” you say, pulling back from his lips for a second and grinding harder into his fingers in an attempt to reach your high quicker.

“Really?” Mark asks in disbelief, eyes wide as he presses his fingers harder into you and takes in the sight of your body. Your chest is going up and down quickly, hips moving and grinding into his fingers, one hand gripping onto his wrist as the other grips on his hair. 

“Fuck, just a few more seconds, I swear, Mark,” you whine, and he speeds his fingers up. And surely enough, within a few seconds, you’re gripping onto his wrist tightly to stop his movements as you cum, clenching around nothing as you chant his name repeatedly. Mark lets you come down from your high on your own time, afraid of overstimulating you before he can even get inside of you. As soon as you’ve come down from your orgasm, you’re pulling Mark into another kiss and pushing his underwear down. 

“Y/N, I-I should p-probably get a c-c-condom,” Mark stutters as your hand grips onto his hard dick and pumps lightly. 

“Nuh-uh,” you say, letting go of him and bucking your hips, feeling the tip of his dick rub against your clit and letting out a content sigh. “I want to feel all of you.”

Mark nods, gripping onto the base of his dick and pushing himself into you slowly, letting you adjust to him. Once he’s all the way in, he lets out a shaky breath as you clench around him a few times, getting used to the feeling of being full of something more than your fingers. “You can move now, honey.” He nods again and slowly begins moving his hips, pulling all the way out before slamming back in.

Mark lowers himself more, making sure you’re chest to chest as he moves slowly inside of you. Your legs wrap around his waist again, arms around his neck, pulling him close to you as you close your eyes and focus on the feeling of Mark’s length moving in and out of you swiftly. Mark lowers his head, resting it on your shoulder and pressing a kiss as you let your mouth fall open in a moan.

“I love you,” Mark’s hips pick up speed at your confession and you let out another loud moan. “I love you, I love you, fuck, baby, I really love you.”

He balances his weight on his hands, pushing himself up to look into your eyes as he fucks into you like his life depends on it. You want to close your eyes so bad, want to focus on the feeling of Mark fucking you, but you’re mesmerized as his eyes look into yours. You’re afraid to even blink, not wanting to miss a moment of this, not wanting to miss a second of the way Mark’s eyebrows furrow as he looks into your eyes, then down at your chest, then down at where your hips meet, then back up into your eyes. He shifts his weight onto one hand, moving the other to your clit and your eyes instantly roll into the back of your head.

“Look at me, baby,” Mark says quietly, angling his hips to meet that spot inside of you, and you struggle to keep your eyes open and looking at him, but you try. 

“A-are you sure you’ve n-never done this before?” You ask, clenching tightly around Mark as he fucks you and rubs your clit. 

“N-never ever. Been saving myself for you.”

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you whine.

“Cum for me, baby, please.” Mark says, and you nod as he presses his fingers just a little harder, pushing you over the edge quickly. The feeling of you clenching around his length sporadically, and your fingernails digging into his back, is enough to push him over the edge, and he’s cumming in you in thick white ropes. He lets out a deep groan as he cuts inside of you, giving you everything he’s got. He falls on top of you, not even bothering to pull out, and you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close. You wipe the sweat off from his forehead and let out a laugh that he returns.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you say.

“Are you on birth control?” Mark asks.

You flick his forehead and giggle. “Yes, I’m on birth control. I have been for like a year.”

“Oh thank God,” he lets out a sigh of relief.

You bask in the silence of the motel room for a second, realizing you’re still on the carpeted floor in the fort you’ve built. “Lets get into bed.”

Mark fixes the sheets and pillows onto the bed as you use the bathroom, and when you emerge from the bathroom naked and crawl into bed next to him, he feels his chest swell with love for you. As soon as you’re in bed with him, you snuggle into his body, resting your head on his chest and closing your eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

“Your heart is beating really fast,” you whisper.

“Because of you,” he responds. He pushes you off him slightly, pushing you onto your back and resting his head on your chest. “I wanna be held.”

“You’re such a baby.” You play with Mark’s hair, enjoying the silence before it hits you that Mark is going to leave you. You’ve finally gotten the boy you love, given everything to him, and within a few months he’s going to leave you and start a new life while you’re stuck in your tiny town. Your chest begins to warm in anxiety at the thought of having to be away from him, and tears well in your eyes. “Mark, you can’t leave me. You’re my soulmate.”

“Come with me, then.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” The tears drip down your face slowly and Mark can tell you’re crying by the way your chest contracts underneath him.

He sits up quickly and looks down at you, eyes flickering to your bare chest for a split second before looking back up into your eyes. He wipes the tears from your face. “Y/N, I’m serious. Just take a year off and come with me to Korea, and then you can start school there. I’ll take care of you, I promise.” He leans down and presses a kiss between your breasts before coming back up. “I can’t live my life without you.  Please come with me.”

“Mark, my parents would kill me. Moving to a new country for a boy I’m not even married to? You’re insane.”

“If I could marry you tonight, I would.” Mark thinks for a second and grabs his phone from the table next to the bed, unlocking it and shielding it from your view as he looks something up.

“What time is it?”

“It’s midnight,” he responds.

“You know… it’s only about a 5 hour drive to Vegas from here.”

“And?”

“If we start driving now, we can make it by the time the sun rises.”

“Aaaaand?”

“Aaaand, wecouldbeimpulsiveandgogetmarriedmaybeifyoureallymeantit,” you say quietly.

Mark lets out a hearty laugh before rolling over onto you and pressing a flurry of kisses all over your face, before pulling you into a long kiss.

“What was all that for?” you ask.

He unlocks his phone and hands it over to you, showing that he was looking up 24 hour pawn shops nearby.

“I had the same thought. I thought maybe we go out and get some food, hit one of these pawn shops and get some rings, then drive over to Vegas.”

You let out a laugh and peck his lips. “Let’s go then, baby.”

“I can’t wait to see the look on your parents’ face when you tell them I convinced you to drive across state lines, get married to me, and drop out of state university to move to another country with me.”

“They’ll just have to deal,” you say, getting up out of bed and cringing as you put your wet clothes back on. “I have dry clothes in the car. It’s still parked by the beach, isn’t it?” Mark nods in response, slipping his wet clothes back on and leaving the room keys with the front desk attendant. Your hand slips into his as you walk in the dark streets of the city, walking towards the beach where Mark’s car is parked. “Can we stop in San Francisco on our way back home? I want to see the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“We can do whatever you want, baby.”

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“I know. I love you, too. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you sigh contently. “I can’t wait to spend my life with you.”

[reginaldqueribundus]

Star Trek: Prodigy

I come to you today, fellow Star Trek fans, to say give Prodigy a chance. Yeah it’s aimed at kids and yeah it’s CGI, and yeah it’ll probably make a bunch of continuity errors etc., but I watched the first ep and holy crap it is so much better than it has any right to be. Consider the following:

It’s doing something different, in a way that’s refreshing rather than frustrating

the animation looks fucking AMAZING:

it has, IMO, the most interesting and original premise of any Star Trek series in 15 years

it has Janeway (technically not the real Janeway, just a hologram, but still — voiced by Kate Mulgrew and everything)

most of the characters are interesting

I actually want to see what happens next

where you can watch it

Like everything else Trek these days, your options are Paramount+ or the high seas, though it’s on Crave if you’re in Canada, and it’s supposed to air on Nickelodeon at some point

what it’s about

Without getting into spoiler territory, it’s about a group of alien kids who stumble on the abandoned Federation starship Protostar and use it to escape the crappy prison mine where they all live.

I seriously recommend checking it out! If you aready have (or don’t care), characters and SPOILERS are below the cut!

the characters:

Dal R’El: the self-appointed leader. He’s clever, confident, and never knows when to quit — almost a purple teenage Han Solo. No one knows what species he is, not even him.

Gwyn: she’s the bad guy’s daughter and helps him run the place, though it seems she’s not entirely thrilled about it. Speaks a million languages. She and her father are the last members of a new species called the Vau N’Kat.

Rok-Tahk: a huge, pink, virtually indestructible rock monster who also happens to be a little girl. (She’s a Brikar, a species featured in the New Frontier novels but never seen onscreen before.)

Jankom Pog: a Tellarite engineer who likes to argue. His hand is a prosthetic that functions as a cybernetic multitool.

Murf: a blue blob that makes weird noises and tries to eat everything. My money’s on him turning out to be a baby changeling or something.

Hologram Janeway: the Protostar’s Emergency Training Hologram, based on the great Kathryn Janeway and designed to assist the crew.

The Diviner: Gwyn’s asshole dad who runs the mine as a cover for finding the Protostar, which he really wants for some reason.

Drednok: an evil robot who works for the Diviner. He’s basically General Grievous, but better than it sounds.

Answers I desperately want to know after the first episode:

What are the Vau N’Kat and why are there so few of them left?

Are they psychic? Why do their hair-tentacles glow sometimes?

What the hell is Dal?? Or Murf for that matter?

Where did Drednok and the Watchers come from?

What was the Protostar designed for?

How did it end up unmanned and sitting in the middle of an asteroid in the Delta Quadrant? How did the Diviner know about it?

Why is he called “the Diviner”? Is he a cult leader?

On that note, why are there so many Alpha/Beta Quadrant species (Medusans, Tellarites, Caitians etc.) in the Delta Quadrant?

Are they gonna go back for that little Caitian girl? What about the other prisoners?

Are the Borg still around?

my favourite moment: when Dal said “I thought I could be the captain!”

[jimmygibbsjrrr]

What are your favorite voice lines for each survivor and why? (for example, I die when Nick says "you are the first three people in the world I have ever trusted")

I think I have one for everyone (or at least, one picked outta a few favourites) but I really struggled for a coupla them lol

I know and love a lot of these lines because I play on a lovely modded server where a lot of people use voice mods, and I've heard a lot of these lines from the players there, so if they seem random or you've never heard them before that's why! a lot of em are one-off saferoom lines, or dialogue dependent on doing something specific with a certain character. that's also why I seem to gravitate towards the funny one-liners, but there's some more serious/story-related ones here too

also this post ended up being so fucking long! sorry about that! I put a cut in the middle so it's easier to scroll past

Louis:

Louis: "But you know, as long as I have a Molotov I can make a firewall! Get it Francis? A firewall?"

Louis is my favourite and he's got so many banging lines so you'd think this one would be hard for me to choose, but I had to go with this one! the line's originally from The Sacrifice but it's a favourite for Louis players with voice mods. thanks to that, I've got a lotta good memories associated with it from that modded server I talked about. first time I heard it I genuinely laughed because the punchline being that funny caught me off guard. the joke is adorable, very fitting for his character, and the reactions are priceless:

Zoey: "Oh, boooo." Francis: "You're such a nerd."

honourable mention to any conversation about Bill being old because that shit's funny every time

Francis:

Francis: "Groovy." Louis/Zoey: [Short laugh] Francis: "What's so funny? It is groovy."

alternatively:

Francis: "Groovy." Zoey: "[Imitating] Groovy." Francis: "A-FRICKIN'-men."

honestly could have picked any line for Francis because he's so funny but this one is the one that makes me laugh most consistently. that's. that's it really. I just think it's funny. he says this when he picks up an auto shotgun

honourable mention to when he thinks Riverside is in Canada, and any line where he calls Louis 'Louie' because I'm a Frouis shipper and I read into that as a cute endearing nickname :)

Zoey:

Zoey: "Sorry. I can't lower the bridge." Nick: "That's terrific, cupcake. Look, is there a man up there we can talk to?" Zoey: "Oh, boo-hoo, I don't know what to do. Go to hell, Colonel Sanders!"

most of Zoey's funny lines are parts of other running jokes, references that I don't get or very tied to the context of the campaign, so it was actually kinda hard to pick one. I love all of her lines as well which didn't make it easier. but this one has stuck out to me since I first played The Passing because it's brilliant. Nick deserves every scathing insult he gets in that campaign <3

honourable mention to basically all her other lines. especially the ones in The Sacrifice because they cut DEEP her voice actress really went for it christ it hurts

DIShonourable mention to her death scream it's so goddamn LONG and the many hours I've sunk into Tank Challenge have left me hating it with a passion, stop screaming at me I'm doing my best

Bill:

Zoey: "You think one day it's all just gonna go back to normal?" Bill: "I'll see peace back on earth if I gotta murder every one of these bastards with my bare goddamn hands."

I think this line is just a great example of Bill's character really, and actually prompts an interesting train of thought as to how his hopes for the future shifted from No Mercy to The Sacrifice; originally, they seemed much more aligned with Zoey's, possibly part of the reason she felt so betrayed later. also it just sounds cool. it's from the hospital elevator in No Mercy.

honourable mention to this cut line of Bill pickin up an incapped survivor because I think it's really sweet:

Bill: "Bein' brave doesn't mean you're not scared. It means you're scared as hell, and then you pick up the shotgun anyway."

Left 4 Dead 2 survivors under the cut:

Ellis:

Ellis: "If the laws of nature would allow it, I would bear that man's children."

it really couldn't be anything else. I mean, it could, because everything that comes outta this guy's mouth is funny, but I cannot believe this line is real. I love it. as y'all probably know this one's from Dead Center.

honourable mention to every Keith story, and all of his 'Taunt' and 'Argh' lines from the voicewheel. seriously my favourite part of this character is his lines we could be here all day.

Nick:

Nick: "I am breathing shit air into my lungs. It is being absorbed into my bloodstream. I am literally full of shit."

does this make me immature? perhaps. again, I really struggled to pick for Nick, but like many others on the list my reasoning is just that I find this one funny. he sounds so disgusted.

honourable mention to all of his whining about his suit, mostly because the others' responses are golden. and obviously his swearing. because again, I'm immature.

Rochelle:

Rochelle: "Axe me a question, I dare you."

I have such a weakness for bad jokes. first Louis's firewall joke, now this. it's just the way she says it I think. wow my sense of humour is fucked. this one's a possible voice line for when Rochelle picks up a fire axe

honourable mention to all of the funny things she says when she's on low HP, and "Dibbs on Gibbs!" when she sees an infected Jimmy Gibbs Jr.

Coach:

Coach: "I find a Burger Tank in this place? I'm-a be a one-man cheeseburger apocalypse." Ellis: "Well, Coach? I aim to let you."

I hear this line every time I play Dark Carnival - which, considering how much the playerbase loves Dark Carnival, is a lot - and it just makes me smile, especially since they re-added the previously cut line from Ellis in The Last Stand update. also, it reminds me of my first introduction to the L4D2 characters, "Steamed Hams but it's Coach and Nick", which is a masterpiece of video.

honourable mention to his opening line from the trailer, which sets the tone and introduces the character brilliantly, and would have been a great first introduction if my real first introduction hadn't been a Steamed Hams meme.

this post took a surprising amount of time and effort. holy shit. you're welcome ig lmao

[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.

chris tags:

@onetwo3000​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @donutloverxo​ @kleohoneyao3​ @cevans-fics​

ransom tags:

@la-cey​

[sorryjustafangirl]

mascot mysteries

a/n: me posting something that isn’t at like midnight? wow. anyway i thought this was a super cute idea so i hope you all enjoy it :)  this is also a gender neutral reader! and this is a covid-free AU

Pairing: Nolan Patrick x reader

Word Count: 1.8k

warnings: a few couple words, a little bit of anxious movements, Gritty (if that needs to be a warning)

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and real person fiction if you don’t like that, please don’t read! also the gif isn’t mine! all credit to the incredible gif-maker!

tagging: @barzypatty​

You walked into the Wells Fargo Center, admiring the arena. This was your dream job ever since college. Honestly you couldn’t believe you got it. You pull out your phone with the emailed instructions of where to go. You look for the “hallway next to the washroom” only to discover there are three different hallways that have signs directing to the washrooms. 

Well fuck. 

“Are you good there?” You look to your left to see two guys, likely players based on their attire. One was taller, with longer hair and a small smile. The other one was shorter but looked more rambunctious. It looked like there were in a little bit of a rush, but you were really lost. 

“I’m actually kind of lost. I’m looking for conference room B8? But the instructions I have are really vague, so I have, like, no idea where I’m going,” you admitted, folding into yourself a little bit.

“That’s on our way! Come with us, we’ll show you where it is,” the shorter one said, motioning you over to where the two of them had stopped. “So, you’ve never been here?”

“It’s actually my first day on the job, so, um no. I haven’t been here before either, I, uh, grew up in Canada,” You cursed yourself. This was your first impression with the organization and you couldn’t even make a conversation without the stammering.

“Cool! Me and Patty are from Canada too! Shit, sorry, I’m TK and that’s Patty,” He said, motioning to the taller guy beside him. “And don’t worry about getting lost, Pats here got lost on his first day too,”

“Good to know I’m not the only one whose bad with directions,” you directed your comment to Patty, making brief eye contact with him. A rosy blush brushed his cheeks and you caught a mumbled “yeah”

“What do you do….?” Patty prompted, his voice quiet, but somehow you still heard it. He couldn’t deny you were pretty. 

“Oh, sorry, I’m Y/N. And I’m in media? I don’t know my exact title, but working for one of the best marketed media teams was too good for me to, uh, turn down so…” You said, slightly talking in front of TK so you could answer Patty’s question.

“Oh cool! Maybe you’ll get to meet Gritty, he’s the fun residence troublemaker,” Travis popped in.

“I thought that was your job Teeks,” which earned a jab from TK into Patty, who just snickered. 

“Travis, bud!” The three of you stopped to see someone else motioning for TK, who jogged over to the other man. 

“C’mon, the conference room isn’t too much further, I’ll walk you there,” Patty said, already making some steps forward. After a small comfortable silence, he stopped in front of two double doors. “So, uh, this is it. Good luck on your first day,” 

“Oh! Thanks. And, um, thanks for showing me where it was,” You tugged down on your jacket. “I guess I’ll just….” you motioned behind you to the doors.

“Oh right, yeah, I’ll, uh, let you go,” You gave a small wave and turned towards the conference doors and he turned back to go where he came from, only to turn around after a few steps. “Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You took a few steps back towards him.

“You’re in media, yeah? So you might be at games or maybe even practices?” He scratched the back of his neck, slightly mumbling towards the end.

“Uh, yeah maybe. I’m not too sure where they’ll put me just yet but I like being in the action. I know that might seem weird ‘cause I’m sorta shy and quiet but..” You wrung your hands together. 

“No, no, I get it. It’s like being a different person, when you’re behind the camera or something. You get to be someone else and it’s nice. I get like that on the ice sometimes. I can make the big hits and stuff and no one treats it like it’s different from being quiet outside the game,”

“Yeah, like a different person. That’s exactly it,” You met his eyes again. Holy shit, why is he so gorgeous?

“Y/N Y/L/N?” A head popped out from behind the conference room doors. “We’re ready for you,” 

“Great, thank you,” You turned back to Patty. “That’s, uh, that’s me, but I’ll hopefully see you around, Patty?” 

“I’d like that a lot. And uh, you can call me Nolan,” The blush came back to his cheeks but you could barely notice over the heat in your own cheeks. 

“Bye Nolan.” You gave him one last smile before entering the conference room and closing the door, slowing entering the room. Once you came into sight, the people around the table jumped up. 

“Ah! There they are! Our new Gritty!”

***

After that first encounter, you seemed to bump into Nolan more. Before work, sometimes after work. You would make casual conversation, both mumbling, but you just got each other. And it didn’t take too long for him to muster up the courage to ask you on a date. While you were slightly hesitant, he was quick to assure you that “I may have asked G to ask management if it’d be okay with our jobs and, uh, everything’s fine, so…?” which earned him a kiss on the cheek and a yes. 

The problem was your job. You loved being a mascot. Seriously, you did. You were hooked after that first varsity game you went to in college. The energy of the crowd, interacting with the players and fans, the anonymity. The anonymity was the issue. Behind the costume, no one knew it was shy ol’ you. You could do anything and no one would tell you that you were being too rowdy or obnoxious. No one expected anything out of you except fun. It was perfect. And being Philadelphia’s beloved mascot/political figure was the dream. Telling Nolan risked the anonymity of the job. But to not tell Nolan was becoming an issue. He understood you had to work during game days, but it was becoming increasingly difficult not to see you with the other better halves in the stands, especially since you worked here. There was no reason for you not to be there. Every other teammate of his got to see someone they loved in their jersey but he didn’t. 

When he brings this up, all timid, you are so quick to make a compromise. Before every home game, you’d meet in the tunnel for a good luck handshake. It might seem ridiculous but he got to physically see you before each game and it was a fun, quirky ritual. 

“It’s like a different person right? You get in your zone and I’ll get in mine,” You told him. He responded with a kiss. 

But you were running out of excuses why you were late either before your handshake or after his game, where you would also meet him in the tunnel. You had used the “I caught up with work” at least four times, “I saw a coworker who wanted to talk” a few times, and even resorted to “I got lost” once. You could see it was throwing him off a little. He was still playing perfectly fine, but it didn’t have that same “umph” he sometimes brought to the ice. 

It was the home game against the Penguins when he finally snapped. That’s how you knew it was bad. Gritty was asked to do the fun pre-show, and you hadn’t had time to change to see Nolan before the game. He threw more hits, had more aggression, and more than the normal Pennsylvania rivalry. You couldn’t help but think that part of it was because you didn’t show up before the game. He’d even gotten in a fight with Tanev early in the second period. 

So, during the intermission between the second and third, you asked your team to lead you down to the tunnel and grab Nolan out of the dressing room. The Flyers were up 3-0 so you didn’t think it’s be a huge issue with Coach. 

He quietly exited the room, confused on why he got pulled out. A member of your team just gestured to you in your costume, which did little to clear up his confusion. You held your hand up in a fist for a fist bump, the first move in your handshake. When he still gave that bewildered look, you softly grabbed his gloved hand and pushed it against yours. When you lifted your hand up for a high five, he still needed some prompting. But when the down low high five came, you started to see the gears in his head turning. He gave a small chuckle and slowly worked through your handshake, ending with a pinky promise and a kiss to your respective thumbs. When you’ve finished, he just gives you that small side smile and shakes his head, with a chuckle. 

You can hear the boys getting hyped up in the dressing room, and then the buzzer goes, so you break away from Nolan, but stay in the tunnel. As the boys single-file pass you, you give them each a boop on the head, with some extra love given to Nolan. 

That third period, Nolan seems to have his “umph” back. An assist and a goal, and he celebrated both by glancing up to you, celebrating as per usual with the fans, especially after his goal. 

After the game, you go and have your own shower, all sweaty after the 5-0 Pennsylvania battle. You took your time, knowing you’d have to have a semi-serious conversation with Nolan. But when you join him in the tunnel, he’s all smiles. He wraps you in a hug, spinning you around, before setting you on the ground and nuzzling into your neck. You run your fingers through his own freshly washed hair. The two of you stand there for a bit before he mumbles into your neck, barely audible. 

“Like another person, eh?” You smiled and tucked your head into his chest. 

“Oh shut up, I don’t even know if you’re allowed to know.” A hearty laugh escaped him.

“Secret’s safe with me, babe,” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head as you started to make your way out of the arena. “Fuckin’ Gritty, I can’t believe it. I thought you were ignoring me,”

“I’m sorry, Nols. It’s just a lot to take in. Didn’t want to scare you off,”

“Well, I’m sticking around if that’s alright with you.” You looked up at him, and his cheeks started to redden, and not just from the game.

“Yeah. That’s alright with me,” You leaned into the crook of his shoulder, glad you didn’t have to hide any part of yourself from Nolan anymore. 

Bonus: “Did you ever actually punch a kid?”

“Oh my gosh, I’m not answering that,”

“It’s a valid question babe! I’m not going to stop you, I just wanna know,”

feel free to let me know what you think! thanks for reading

[swiftgronmasterpost]

Late Stage Swiftgron Part 2 (things get loud with babe):

April 18, 2018 - Dianna posts to Instagram about “commitment issues”:

April 20, 2018 - Babe (a song that Taylor wrote in the Red era) about a lover with shall we say “commitment issues”.

Later when the Babe music video is released people (even non Gaylors) notice that it is nearly a shot for shot remake of the I’m Not The Only One music video that Dianna starred in back in 2014. 

What’s more psychotic is that the song Babe itself is only three minutes and 35 seconds long:

But the music video has had a full minute and 4 seconds to it to make it the exact same length as the I’m Not The Only One music video. I do think that this is pretty hard evidence that Dianna did step out on Taylor at some point back in 2012.  I do not think, however, that it was the chronic issue that the fandom seems to think it was.  This is the only song that appears to be about Dianna that accuses her of cheating.  The breakup songs on 1989 do not insinuate that the relationship ended due to cheating.  In fact, in Style Taylor says “I’ve been there too a few times” when it comes to being with other people.

I actually theorize that the track was not released on Red because Taylor wrote it while upset and hurt, and then they reconciled and worked it out.  I think Taylor didn’t release it at the time because she forgave Dianna for the indiscretion and they moved on from it as a couple.  I think in her heart of hearts at the time Taylor did not want to put Dianna “on blast” that way.

I think down the road in 2018 they’re obviously long broken up, and have long moved on from the slights of old and Taylor let Dianna know she was going to release the song.  Dianna’s “commitment issues” post makes it seem as if it’s a bit of an inside joke between them and Dianna is poking fun at herself and the old and forgiven incident.  At least that’s how the situation reads to me.

Taylor posts a cute video talking about the song with a cheeky smile and a heart to ig:

Another theory I’ve been mulling over is the possibility that Dianna and Taylor hooked up some time in 2018 prompting Taylor to paint herself as the other woman (as Dianna would be cheating on Winston making Taylor the other woman) in the mv.  There’s no hard evidence for it but it’s possible...

June 6, 2018 - Dianna posts a now deleted selfie and rant about how amazing KIlling Eve is (this post was deleted late summer/early fall 2020 for no apparent reason):

It’s probably a coincidence but her shirt reads, “SANS SOLEIL” which means, “without sun” in French.  Karlie is known as “sunshine” in the Gaylor Swift Cinematic Universe.

June 9, 2018 - The aforementioned Babe music video is released 

Let me show you just how similar this music video is to I’m Not the Only One:

first, you should know that YES taylor came up with the concept for the music video:

the second thing you should know is that the babe track is 3 minutes and 35 seconds long but the babe music video is 4 minutes and 39 seconds long:

you know what else is EXACTLY 4 minutes and 39 seconds long?

that’s right…the music video that she’s basically copying in the babe mv that starred dianna way back in 2014

opening shot:

kiss goodbye (at almost the same timestamp):

similar shots at the same timestamp:

and again:

and again (these are also basically the stills used for the mv before you click play):

both women driving at the same fucking timestamp (y’all taylor swift is insane holy shit):

in the store shopping at the same fucking timestamp no she is literally unwell someone get her into a facility now:

cheating happens at the same timestamp (seriously tay get help✌️):

here’s another similar shot of my babies at the same timestamp;

cheating husband coming home, same timestamp:

very similar shot of the husbands walking up to the door at the same fucking timestamp (i get it taylor you’re laughing at us from the prison cell now):

similarities that happen at different timestamps

wifey drinking out by the pool:

wifey fiddling with ring:

cheaters drinking it up together:

wifies drinking it up as well (several times both in the mv):

wives do away with the husband’s clothes (Dianna burns them while jennifer dumps them outside in the front lawn):

Pretty much the only thing that’s different about the music videos is the ending.  the babe cheater gets dumped while dianna takes her cheater back but ofc we know how taylor likes to change the endings (like she did with love story) or at least to try to change the ending (peter losing wendy).

July 13, 2018 - Taylor visits home and posts to IG with the lyric from style “Take me home” as the caption:

Taylors on the Rep tour and we get this series of surprise songs I consider to be Dianna songs:

“Ours” - Foxborough, MA July 28th

“Out of The Woods” - Toronto, Canada August 3rd (Karlie’s birthday)

“Come Back… Be Here”- Toronto, Canada August 4th (august 4th 2014 Taylor wears one of the Style mv outfits)

“This Love” - Atlanta, Ga., Aug. 10

These shows are all in succession I think it could be a coincidence or perhaps Taylor’s reaction to Karlie’s engagement announced on July 24, 2018...

August 25, 2018 - Karlie shows up to rep tour in Nashville and Taylor plays Better Man 💀

August 31, 2018 - secret song is Swiftgron “Begin Again”

February 24, 2019 - Swiftgron reunion? at the Vanity Fair Oscar Party both Dianna and Taylor are there and they both post to Instagram about it(Dianna posts two days later):

She also comments to a friend that they stayed out until 3AM.

Taylor’s post:

March 7, 2019 - Dianna sees Fleabag at SoHo House:

April 9, 2019 - Dianna posts with a caption about being 13 years old, unrequited love, and 143 in reference to the show Pen15:

June 14, 2019 - Taylor adds “Woman” by Mumford and Sons to her ME! playlist - the song is rumored to be about Dianna written by her (now ex) husband Winston Marshall:

September 7, 2019 - Taylor is noted to be at a Fleabag performance in London at the at Wyndham Theater.

September 23, 2019 - Dianna posts about Phoebe Waller Bridge (who wrote Fleabag, and EPs Killing Eve among other things):

October 5, 2019 - SNL!!!!! - Taylor is the musical guest on SNL while Phoebe Waller Bridge hosts and DIANNA IS IN ATTENDANCE with a VIP guest pass (can only be granted by a cast member, host, or musical guest) and also noted to be “in Swift’s inner circle” at the afterparty:

Taylor performs Lover:

And with huge lesbian energy she also performs False God:

(if it weren’t for DIanna showing up at SNL I probably wouldn’t have even gotten interested in Swiftgron so you have this holy night to thank for my blog @swiftgron-get-married​ as well as this timeline!)

A blog contributor reached out to someone (non-biased, I know some Kaylors reported that DIanna was there for PWB but that isn’t what this person said) who was at the performance on Twitter and this is what they had to say about the night:

“Dianna was definitely paying attention”

Other fan reports state that Dianna made a face when Taylor sang “magnetic force of a man”:

December 13, 2019 (Taylor’s 30th Birthday) - Dianna adds the song Got It Bad (which is an incredibly sensual song) to a Playlist entitled T 2017 on her private spotify account Some time in late 2019/early 2020 - Ashley (re)follows Dianna on Instagram February 2020 - Dianna and Taylor are both in London at the same time

Click here to keep reading!