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chateautae · 4 years ago

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saudade | kth. (m)

saudade ; “a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something/someone that one cares for and/or loves.”

➵ summary : a demanding idol lifestyle was something taehyung and yourself were all too familiar with. it wasn’t so hard when considering your unconditional love for one another, but lately, taehyung wasn’t the same anymore; and you decide it's time to find out why.

➵ pairing : idol!taehyung x choreographer!reader

➵ genre : angst, smut, fluff (the holy trinity), idol!au, established relationship!au

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 16k

➵ warnings : sexual content, swearing, dom + sub dynamics, dom!tae, fingering, oral (f. receiving), lots of dirty talk, t e a s i n g because let’s face it this is tae, big dick!tae, cock sliding, marking, restraint (with his own hands), unprotected sex (wrap it up peeps), rough sex, mushy i miss you sex, lots of feels, tae undresses reader (it’s hot i promise), praising, name kink, slight body worshipping, slight brat-handling, forced orgasm, creampie, one spank, tiny impreg kink, aftercare

➵ a/n : wow, my first fic on tumblr!! i’m beyond excited to finally be sharing my stories and writing, hopefully i can let you escape into a whole new world and enjoy my works! comments and feedback are always appreciated <3

2:27AM.

He still wasn't home.

Texts on delivered, calls unanswered, radio silence on all social media.

And it wasn’t just tonight, it was every night.

Everyday.

And it’s been a month. A long, grueling month.

A month where he only acknowledged your presence just once and called it a day. A month where he returned so late and left early enough the following morning you didn't see him. Somedays, he never even came home at all. You made suggestions to hang out together, and he declined them on the premise of 'too busy'.

It hurt beyond comprehension.

It's like he wasn't even there.

But you knew he was.

He was the one who moved your sleeping body from the couch to your shared bed every night, a sweet gesture of his that gave you hope maybe everything wasn't so bad. Sometimes, though, you woke up on the same couch the next morning, knowing he most likely stayed the night elsewhere.

You tried to remain indifferent to the treatment, figuring he was just stressed with his tightly-packed schedule that didn't always include you.

But it was beginning to feel heart-breaking, disappointing, but most of all, so lonely. It was starting to feel like he was slipping away from you, like you were losing him, relationship tearing at the seams. It left you nothing but heartbroken and afraid. Afraid of where your relationship had gone, afraid of whatever happened to the never-ending love you two shared. You both harboured an array of feelings for one another that infinitely tethered you two together, kept you madly in love and nearly impossible to separate.

So where was that now? How could it have all changed within the span of a month?

You’ve survived comebacks with him before and he never entertained this kind of behaviour. Maybe you had a fight or two about someone cancelling on a plan or working too hard but nothing as excruciating as this.

Your relationship began to feel empty, so meaningless. And the more he was distant, the stronger the pain grew and your love seemed to be losing its vitality.

Why would he do this? What's gotten into him? Did I do something wrong? Why doesn't he care anymore? you asked yourself repeatedly for weeks.

You’d think work was the issue, where your relationship had to be purposefully low-profile and subdued. But ever since the inception of your relationship, Taehyung never found any of that difficult. If anything, he loved it the most. You could easily leave it to the 'forbidden’ or 'looked down upon' stigma of you two dating to make everything 100x hotter, more exciting, and fuck, did you and especially Taehyung enjoy fiddling around with the concept as if you were some modern-day remake of Romeo and Juliet.

The sneaking around, the thrill of moments only you two shared, the promises you kept, the secret kissing or displays of affection, your romantic status like classified information some were only privy to.

But you didn't have to worry about suddenly losing your 'Romeo', though, because Taehyung wasn't as stupid as he was (no offence, Shakespeare).

Taehyung remained business-like whenever he needed to be and tended to his work accordingly. He was always cautious of the consequences your relationship warranted, and worked hard to prove your love was worth it despite his chaotic life and the challenges everyone warned you of.

Taehyung has also always been mischievous, a little rebellious, someone who doesn't always like following whatever he's told; so this relationship was just his cup of tea, making it hard to believe he would grow tired of it considering his well-precedented admiration.

But now, you weren’t so sure.

Now he seemed practically devoid of the fact that you two were even dating. He didn’t naturally gravitate towards you anymore like before, instead increasingly gravitating away from you. He didn't linger around to catch a moment with you anymore, didn't come looking for you, didn't spark conversation whether it was important or not, even stopped looking at you as a whole. It seemed like being in your presence was something he avoided rather than just didn't do, like he wanted to fill his time elsewhere and sometimes… you swore it felt intentional.

As if he didn't want to be around you.

You sought communicating with him about everything, pinning all the blame on his mountain-high stress and how busy he was thinking you could help ease his mind; but he stayed firm on the notion he was just fine. You obviously knew something was up and wanted to confront him, but you feared pestering or nagging him, never wishing to add to his stress.

And you get that, you really do. He has this demanding, grandiose life that you should understand is incredibly stressful and time-consuming. But you're going to be honest... you fucking missed Kim Taehyung. A lot.

Granted, you saw him at work, even more so now with a comeback dawning on the group, but it wasn’t the same.

You missed being home with him. You missed the way his big arms cuddled you when you watched a movie together, you missed 'attempting' to cook dinner with him, you missed your snuggly mornings where he wouldn’t let you go until he laid at least a hundred kisses on you. You missed him tickling you when you least expected it, randomly playing any track of jazz or slow music, swaying you until he made you giggle and you missed him never forgetting to kiss your forehead whenever he parted from you, even if he had to be discreet where work was concerned.

The cute, couply things you missed, sure. But the one thing that consistently clouded your mind and bothered you nearly every second of everyday...

Sex.

That active as hell sex life you two had, you missed every damn detail about it and your body desperately yearned for its revival.

After a month's dryspell, you craved Taehyung so badly it wasn’t funny anymore. From all the times he eyed you suggestively, to the way his large, touchy hands ended up all over you, to the way he eventually laid you down, lost himself in his torturous but pleasurable teasing, maybe even tying you up or handcuffing you in the process, getting you dripping wet before he eventually fucked you just right simply out of his own desire.

Nope.

You can't do this, it only made you hornier than you already were and fuck, did anything you try on yourself not work at all. You were feeling greedy. Going from doing it nearly three times a week during quarantine lockdown with him to suddenly having gone a month sex-free left you losing your mind.

There used to be so much fire, so much love, so much passion between you two. It was intoxicating, so ardent that you could feel yourselves aching for each other in your bones. But now, all of that felt either non-existent or buried so deep underground you couldn't feel much of anything. And of course, the absence of sex and the cute stuff collectively sucked, sure. But what scared you the most were your own thoughts.

What if he's finally tired of you? What if he wants to focus on his career? What if he's found someone new, someone that isn’t staff, someone much easier and less burdensome than you..

You stopped.

A dark web of assumptions swarmed your head, all seeming completely plausible and welcoming a dull, daunting sadness to loom over you. Your chest constricted at the thought of your fickle importance to him, wincing at the possibility it could be true. You sat in silence in your lonely home, leaving you to ponder when the apartment began to feel so forlorn in the first place.

The photographs he took framed the walls, the old albums he owned littered your shelves and even one of the many jackets he owned was currently sprawled across your couch. You noticed the way his presence was so deeply rooted in the home, yet he felt as distant as ever.

You settled in on your couch, cradling his jacket at the thought of how much longer this would continue, forcing yourself to sleep in hopes of ridding the feeling of emptiness from your chest.

But you couldn't.

Your mind drowned struggling to sleep, giving up on shut-eye as a whole until eventually you began swimming, swimming through your emotions and one particular thought stood out to you; this wasn't fucking fair.

It just wasn't, none of this was. You can't let him continue this, can't remain on the fence about doing something and you certainly cannot just let this go. It was your duty as one of the active partners in this relationship to fight for its life, so that's exactly what you were going to do—with one conclusion you were convinced would work.

You should give him a taste of his own medicine.

You decided to be upset, ignore him and see how he reacts. Respond with the same curt responses, not give him the time of day, 'naturally' gravitate away from him. Hell, you could start tomorrow by waking up earlier than him and seeing how he responds to your empty side of bed for once.

That's if he even comes home tonight.

This seemed like the only sure-fire method of gaining his attention. Maybe if you acted unreasonably, far from how you usually do he would finally pay you any mind, have to approach and confront you. You’d always let him off the hook on the account of him being an idol, but now he’s taken it too far.

Your mind grew hazy somewhere in between thinking and shuffling on the couch, only the sight of a vacant apartment and the scent of his cologne lulling you to sleep.

You groaned as your eyes fluttered open, the reality of last night resurfacing as you remembered the impromptu plan for today, cursing how early you had to wake up to avoid him.

You lazily rubbed at your eyes as they landed on the clock on your bedside table, suddenly registering you were in a different room altogether. It was then you felt the softness of your pillow, the silk of your sheets, the familiarity of your room's walls coming into view—all of it blissful until you froze at the feeling of weight around your waist, a quick glance confirming it was an arm. It was then you felt your neck being fanned by hot breaths, your back flush against someone's bare chest and you felt your heart speed up.

Is he...?

Thinking you're getting ahead of yourself, you're proven just right when you turn around to a face you knew all too well.

Taehyung's soft figure rose and fell as he slept soundlessly next to you.

You instantly softened, in a bit of shock because he was right there, angelic as ever as he breathed calmly and cuddled your smaller figure into him.

He still held you to fall asleep, huh?

A smile found your face at the thought as you admired the details of his; thick, pretty lashes pressed against the skin underneath his eyes, his large, veiny hand tucked under his cheek as the other draped you, his pink, pillowy lips sealed together in an adorable pout. You shifted onto your side and nuzzled closer into him, listening to his rhythmic breathing and watching his broad chest rise and fall. You melted into his presence, soaking in all the glory that was Kim Taehyung.

You then remembered he was always here, he did give you his personal time; you just didn't see him. You knew he moved you at night, tucked you in, maybe kissed you goodnight. Maybe he had moments where he felt terrible for being away, whispered sweet apologies and promises into your ear.

But then again, you wouldn’t know, you didn't spend enough time together for you to know.

A sudden movement of his arm and that eerie thought snapped you back into reality, instantly scolding yourself for getting distracted by him. You had to focus on how you felt, hone in your emotions and refrain from doting on your precious boyfriend.

You wouldn't be able to ignore him later if you didn't start now.

You were forced to leave his warmth, having to ready yourself for today's rehearsals and resolving numerous things for however long this would continue; you needed Taehyung to feel what you've been feeling all this time, needed him to feel the absence of your presence just as you had felt his.

And you'll be damned if you were going to be easy about it.

A couple hours had passed as you stretched, yawning after revising a rehearsal video, the murmurs of staff keeping you awake. Stretching for what felt like the millionth time, you slightly jumped at the sound of the studio doors opening just before the scheduled time. You watched it mindfully, your heart speeding up at the thought of suddenly seeing Taehyung so soon.

Don’t let it be him first, don’t let it be him first, don’t let it be him first.

You calmed down once your eyes set on 5 of the members ambling in, watching them greet people until you eventually spotted Jimin and Taehyung trailing behind, thankfully too occupied with giggling to see you.

You rejoiced in the lack of eye contact until you decided to sneak a peek at Taehyung, mortified when you found his eyes suddenly locking with yours. The shock made you turn away instantly, swallowing what felt like your heart down your throat.

Your ears were welcomed to the boys making conversation, playfully teasing the 95's for apparently being late and in the midst you managed to shyly greet everyone... except Taehyung.

And this didn't go unnoticed by him, who already felt worried since he woke up to your cold, unoccupied side of the bed this morning. Taehyung instantly found it off-putting, since he usually knew your schedule and left him wondering what reason you had to disappear without informing him.

Curiosity flooded him as the thought continued to bug him, what did she have to do so early in the morning? His inquiries turned into actions when he began passing through the boys, immediately stepping towards you.

"Morning, Y/N. Everything alright?" Taehyung innocently reached for your shoulder once he settled beside you. You almost let him do it, making you reminiscent of when he actually gave a shit about you, but you remembered your little scheme and swiftly pulled away.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Taehyung immediately froze up, disbelief riddling his handsome features. You've never once rejected his touch so blatantly.

You would never do that, he thought.

Taehyung paused his hand at the point he would have touched you, tugging at his bottom lip uncomfortably before rubbing the back of his neck. You internally winced at the hurt you could see on his face through the studio mirrors, forcing yourself to stand your ground as he feebly spoke again.

"You don't seem fine. Why did you wake up so early this morning? You didn't tell me about it..." He scratched his neck awkwardly, a hint of a pout in his tone.

"I don't know, I just couldn't sleep. I don't need to tell you my every move, Taehyung." You responded curtly.

"I know..but you could've told me, Jagiya. We could've spent the morning together in the apartment if you were up so early." Taehyung looked at you in protest, lowering his voice so others couldn't hear.

The use of your pet name after a long time instantly ticked you off, even more so his proposal, he could say all that cute shit but couldn't act upon it?

Irritation nestled its way under your skin, causing you to whisper dryly, “Just get to stretching, Taehyung, we have a lot to go over today.”

His jaw clenched as he swallowed, a troubled expression painting his face. He managed a small 'okay' before he unwillingly stepped away.

Taehyung was beyond confused; something was wrong, seriously wrong. It wasn't just your harsh tone or icy aura, but even in the way you addressed him so plainly as Taehyung.

He didn't understand, he's seen you mad or annoyed before, but nothing along these lines and he couldn’t piece together the reason for your attitude. It seemed like nothing would ameliorate your mood either, leaving Taehyung cursing whatever evil thing was making you so upset.

Despite experiencing that bitter demeanour, however, Taehyung was forced to watch you act friendly with everyone else during practice.. except him.

And what was even worse, he watched you do so for the rest of the week. You had gone a whole week with your (what he found to be) ridiculous behaviour, everything about you so different with him he was left consumed with frustration.

He watched as you continued to treat everyone else the same, getting a little too close to them than he liked. It was something he noticed in the weeks previous to this, but now silently pissed him off even more because this time you decided to purposefully exclude him; and he hated it. You barely spoke or tended to him over the course of the week, Taehyung's envy blooming in his chest at the way you acted so close to everyone yet treated him, your boyfriend, like a stranger.

He didn't understand why he was the only one, you talked to Jimin about what he did on his days off, pretended to box with Jungkook, danced around with Yoongi and Hoseok and goofed around with Jin and Namjoon. Hell, he even found you socializing with other staff and dancers more than usual.

Taehyung couldn't fucking stand it, what in the world was wrong with you? Not only did he figure something was clearly wrong, but that he clearly did something wrong.

He was beyond confused, annoyed, but more so worried as to what was fuelling your actions. Taehyung didn't know what he did, and he couldn't manage not knowing anymore, most of all despising the feeling that he was suddenly losing you.

He quickly resolved after a gruesome week he wasn't letting you go after rehearsals tonight, giving a fat fuck you to his evening plans and trading them in for confronting you.

Your eyes stung from a week’s worth of waking up at the ass crack of dawn to avoid Taehyung, rubbing your eyes as you slung your purse over your shoulder to end another day at the studio. Thinking you were alone, you swiveled around to an empty room and surprisingly spotted Taehyung.

You jumped a little, not expecting him to still be here when you knew he had dinner plans tonight.

Did he cancel them?

Suddenly realizing this is the first time in over a month you’ve been in a room with him, alone, and especially after the week you've spent purposefully dodging him, anxiety flooded your chest.

Your eyes flittered around, nibbling on your lip awkwardly as you pretended he wasn't there. You eventually met his eyes and he returned your hesitant gaze with an intense one, nearly peering into your very soul. He remained unbothered with his hands tucked into his pockets, and now that you were finally viewing him, couldn't help but swoon over his look for the day.

He really chose to wear that damn grey hoodie with matching grey sweatpants that makes you weak, hair styled in the messy curls he's been sporting ever since his perm and wearing that one silver hoop earring you found incredibly hot.

He looked like a fluffy puppy but also a full-course meal crafted by God himself.

This isn't fucking fair at all.

He noticed you staring at him and his head cocked to the side, studying you with a hint of a smirk. He raised an eyebrow tauntingly, like he wouldn't let you go after trapping you in what felt like shackles around your ankles. You could only swallow dryly, averting your eyes and reminding yourself you had to get out of his trance

His power over you was immense, especially when he flipped his curly fringe from his eyes, examining you with such a fiere, unreadable expression you shifted nervously on your feet.

How is he so dominant when he's standing a whole 15 fucking feet away from you?

You watched a self-satisfying grin play onto Taehyung’s lips, loving the way you squirmed under his undivided attention until he suddenly began stepping in your direction, sheer panic overtaking you. You weren't ready, you didn't really think of the result of this plan and now that it's worked, you knew you were in trouble.

Taehyung is unpredictable as hell, you never knew what was running through his mind and which idea he’d pick to entertain. You malfunctioned at the thought and your flight response kicked in, making you step towards the door at light speed.

"I..uh.. I have to go." You stuttered and purposely ducked around him. You felt relieved once you passed his deep stare, until you felt his slender fingers suddenly grapple onto your wrist.

Shit.

"You're not going anywhere." His low voice reverberated in the room, sending currents through your body. You refused to look at him, knowing it would make you squeal, but you stabilized your voice to speak.

"I..", you swallowed, "don't think it's your place to say."

You felt his hold on your wrist tighten, knowing that pissed him off.

A small moment of silence passed and you thought he'd given up, relaxing until he suddenly yanked you towards him, your smaller figure crashing into his chest. He held you against his tall body as his eyes locked with your timid ones, forcing the confrontation of your obvious issue with him.

You took a stubborn step back instead of giving in, arms crossed. Taehyung had enough of you evading his look and gently lifted your chin with his index finger.

"My place? It's been a fucking week and you haven't even looked at me, Y/N. What is your problem?" He emphasized with annoyance, but his soft eyes gave away he was just desperate for an answer.

"Nothing's wrong, Taehyung, I'm just tired."

"Oh really? Tired? Y/N, don't think I didn't notice you ignore me for an entire week. I thought something was wrong in general but clearly you have a problem with me and only me. What's your deal?" He vented in frustration, tone utterly displeased.

You only scoffed disbelievingly, looking towards the ground in search of something to hold back your piled-high emotions.

Taehyung grew tired of your silence and sighed with dejection. He cupped your cheeks and looked at you seriously, "Look at me, bubs, what's so wrong? Did I do something?" the newfound frailty in his voice left you sucking in a breath of guilt.

You really wanted to voice how you felt, teetering on the possibility until you suddenly became aware you'd be requesting demands from one of the busiest people on Earth.

Your tongue habitually tied itself.

"It's just.. It's not important, Taehyung. Let me go." You abruptly turned out of his hold, locking your jaw tightly.

"Why in God's name would I let you go? Something's wrong, Jagiya, and that's always going to be important to me." Taehyung squeezed your arms affectionately, suddenly warming you to him.

You could instantly feel your emotions conflicting inside, flooding your chest with regret yet frustration so heavy you needed air. Your eyes were beginning to reveal your vulnerability, trying to blink away threatening tears.

"Taehyung, just let me go, it's absolutely nothing." Your voice sounded shakily unconvincing and yet, you were tugging yourself away as if he would believe you.

"It's not nothing, I can clearly see something wrong. Why won't you just tell me?"

"Because I don't want to tell you, Taehyung. It's really just nothing."

"You keep saying it's nothing but I can see it in your eyes, you're upset, Jagiya. I know you." Taehyung spoke matter-of-factly, his grip and tone growing desperate.

"I'm not upset, I'm just exhausted."

"Exhuasted..” Taehyung trailed, licking his lips. “Of course, because now you're waking up earlier than you usually do in the morning and on top of that without even fucking telling me why." His tone grew irritated as he scoffed, looking away from you.

You instantly grew annoyed.

"And I told you I don't need to tell you my every move, Kim. Why are you even so pissed about it?”

"Did you just.. family name me?" Taehyung narrowed his eyes

"So what if I did?" You deadpanned.

Taehyung let out a deep sigh.

"I’m pissed cause I got worried, okay? Not everyone has a situation like ours where anyone could do shit to you because of me, so I like knowing where you are." Taehyung stressed with a serious tone. "And listen, I’m not letting you go until you tell me what's wrong. I'm fucking serious, Jagi, you did not just ignore me all week only to tell me nothing's wrong."

"And I'm not gonna say anything. I'm fucking serious, Taehyung." You mimicked him, hoping he'd let you go.

Taehyung dragged his tongue along the inside of his cheek and chuckled dryly, your impossibility unbelievable to him. He pursed his lips before slowly releasing you, his hands up in mock surrender.

"Fine, you can leave then."

You took his words without a second thought and immediately turned for the door. You had just cracked it open before Taehyung’s hand suddenly smacked it shut from behind, making you turn around startled.

He abruptly pinned you against the door with the weight of his body, locking you in with both arms. He leveled himself to your height and peered directly into your eyes.

"And I told you, I'm not letting you go, Ms. Y/L/N." Taehyung now mimicked you as you felt him dominate you with a degree of alpha-male that left you entranced and unable to move. He drew himself closer to your face, so close that he granted no room for you to breathe. You could only stand in defeat, your doe eyes wide as you flashed them to his lips and back to his eyes.

Taehyung couldn't resist how much he wanted you anymore.

"I always forget how challenging you can be." He spoke in his deepest, sultriest tone, that damn bass paired with his dancing eyes causing you to bite your lip.

Taehyung watched you do so and grew hot, finding you irresistible when you were acting impossible yet became putty in his hands. You balled your hands into fists against his chest as he dangerously inched towards your neck, his proximity shooting arousal through your blood.

His scent was intoxicating, resurfacing the numerous thoughts you had of him in his absence. He manifested butterflies in your chest, knowing you had to resist him yet found yourself giving in.

He finally ducked into your neck, anticipating the connection of his lips until he only ghosted your skin. He breathed against you purposefully to elicit a reaction, gifted his desire when he felt your body lean into him and breath hitch.

You hated that you wanted him to kiss you already. You craved him so desperately, so in need of his touch that just the feeling of his body pushing you against the door was enough to make you press your thighs together.

And little did you know, a month and a week without you left Taehyung dying to devour you.

As if noticing you getting impatient, he pulled you towards him by your waist and his lips finally crashed onto your neck, a silent groan escaping you as his plush lips began mouthing sensually. You let out a breathy moan but gathered the courage to speak up, knowing full well the high creeping up on you and you needed to get back at him.

"Maybe if you were home more often you'd remember."

A small laugh escaped Taehyung, "So that's what this is about?" The sudden puff of his breath made you want to jump him. He deliberately pushed his hips into yours, shooting jolts throughout your core once you felt the familiar prodding of something hard. He began sliding one of his hands up and down your waist, almost in an effort to distract you.

"Of course it is, Tae. You're never fucking home." You spoke with vexation, growing both sexually and emotionally frustrated over the way he was pressing you up against the door and inviting a stirring feeling to constrict your insides. He brought his thigh in between your legs, slightly grinding against you as he added pressure to your heat and sucked your sweet spot.

"I'm never fucking home, huh? Who do you think moves you from the couch to our bed? Makes sure you're comfortable and tucks you in? Kisses you goodnight?" He asked rhetorically, letting his teeth bite at your supple flesh and embellish you with his favourite purple marks.

"T-that's not the point, Taehyung. I'm not awake. H-how does that count as you being home?" You retaliated as best you could, snaking your hands to grab the nape of his neck, fingers trailing into the curly ends of his hair. He groaned so audibly that you grew shamelessly hornier.

"Because I do come home. I sleep next to you in our bed, even cuddle you." He began sucking underneath your jaw, wrapping his arm around your torso to press you flush against him. He kissed down your throat trying to bite and leave more hickies, pushing you back for support.

"I-I just told you, that doesn't count, Tae. You... come home when I'm asleep and leave before I wake up. I-I never see you." You tried to maintain your composure, hands hugging his head close to you.

"But we already see each other here, don't we? You see me at practice, meetings, in the building... no?" He suddenly came off your neck and his hand flanked to your chin, advancing for a kiss. But immediate annoyance flooded you upon registering his words, pulling your face back.

"Are you kidding me? You count that as seeing each other? All we do is rehearse choreography and work together. How is that 'seeing' each other?" You asked, baffled at his audacity.

"Because we're at least together, aren't we? Isn't that all that matters?" Taehyung looked at you as if you were the ridiculous one, ignoring your concerns and trying to kiss you again. You immediately removed yourself from him and pushed him back, his hands letting you go.

"That's not the issue, Tae. The issue is that you're really busy and I get that, but we literally haven't done anything together in the last month. And the reason that sounds insane to me is because we work and live together, you'd expect that somewhere in that time we would’ve done something... but we haven't." You emphasized as you pled your case.

"Princess, we've been over this. I told you at the beginning of our comeback that our time together was gonna be limited. I remember you agreeing to that and understanding. Why is this coming up now?"

"So going an entire month neglecting your ‘princess' is what you meant? Your 'limited' seems more like 'nothing at all'.” You air quoted and crossed your arms, becoming annoyed with his ambiguity and sudden use of another pet name.

"Okay, that's not what I'm saying. All I'm saying is that comeback season is busy, it's one thing after another and I can't always keep up with everything. There’s a lot going on; our album, company business, don’t get me started on the mountain of work with promotions, concerts, filming and photoshoots. I'm even making an entire fucking mixtape. I’m trying my damn best here." Taehyung vouched for himself, holding his hands up to defend against your accusations.

"And I'm not saying you don't try, I understand that you're busy but what I’m saying is I don't even feel important to you anymore, let alone a priority. We barely interact, you never do anything with me or talk to me, but for everyone else you’ve got all the effort in the world to spare. I get that you're an idol, I always see you working hard and I'm proud of that. But you somehow make time for everything else.. why can't you just make some time for me?" You felt like you sounded selfish, almost faltering from revealing anymore but you felt so neglected it had to be said.

"Wh-what about you? Oh my God, Jagiya.. you're such a high priority to me. Trust me, you really don’t know what I'd do for us and you should know I’d damn well do or sacrifice anything. It may seem like I'm not right now but I promise it's not like that. You'll always be important to me, how could you think otherwise?" Taehyung was perplexed by your sudden outburst, never having known of these feelings before. He reached his hands out to you but you abruptly denied him, snapping at the question.

“Then what’s it ‘like’, exactly? Because it seems very much to me like you want nothing to do with our relationship.”

“No, that’s-that’s not it at all. Don’t worry about this, okay bubs? Overthinking this won’t do you any good, just trust me.”

“Trust you? You're not even answering my damn question, Taehyung, what is it then? Why aren’t you telling me? Are you fucking hiding something?” You began speculating, his repeated vagueness irking you.

“Jagi, no, just listen to me. Know that I mean it when I say you’re important to me, you’re the love of my life and you'll always be a priority. Why are you thinking like this? Where is all this coming from?” Taehyung asked incredulously, getting on your very last nerve.

"I don't fucking know, Taehyung, maybe because you ignore me for hours on end? Maybe because you leave me every morning without considering just waking up together? I know we can't make it obvious we live together, but we’ve always found a way before, what happened to that? Your texts and phone calls are so meaningless. You make time for your friends and other people but don't make any for me." Your eyes turned glassy, tears escaping as you recalled your terrible feelings over the last month.

"Do you know why you find me sleeping on the couch every night no matter how fucking uncomfortable it is? Because our bed literally smells like you and it constantly reminds me of you but you’re not even there. Do you know how many times I've wanted to talk to you but you're too distracted and I know you'd just push me away? Or how scared I am of bothering you? How many times I've wanted you to come home? How utterly empty and lonely the apartment feels without you even though everything about you is riddled all over it? You don't get it, Taehyung. You just don't fucking get it." You found yourself crying and clutched your chest where it felt like your heart was on display for Taehyung, the reality of everything hitting you like a 16-wheeler.

Taehyung did nothing but blink at you for several seconds, shocked at what he just heard. Were you seriously.. that upset? His absence was that prominent? It didn't even feel like a month to him, but it seems to you it felt like an eternity.

Taehyung unfortunately only knew his packed schedule and making sure he didn’t fall asleep where he shouldn't. A multitude of things ran through his mind on a daily basis with his chaotic life; discussing outfits with his stylist, trying to purchase that new serum his makeup artist always reminds him of, meeting with a producer to review freshly composed songs for his mixtape or finally going out for that one drink he always promised a friend or two—and he suddenly hated it all.

He especially began to loathe his demanding life when he saw the hurt on your face; the way your eyes glistened with pain, the loneliness in your voice, the way you tried physically holding yourself together. He couldn't fathom he was the cause of such pain, wincing at how utterly stupid he was for not noticing this earlier.

I really did do something to her.

He searched for anything to say, beginning to form words but quickly stopping himself from starting a sentence each time. He only examined your crumbling state and regretted not having talked to you sooner, but suddenly wishing you informed him about your feelings preemptively.

"I.. I thought you would've said something, Y/N, but you didn't. How am I supposed to know you feel this way if you don't tell me? You-you seemed okay to me." He inquired softly, tone riddled with guilt, but his words only made a disdainful scoff leave your lips.

"Told you? Taehyung, you have always made it clear that you're a busy person and I've always respected that. You also made clear the importance of this comeback and that I just had to understand how limited our time together would be. Of course I had to act okay. How could you expect me to come and beg you for your attention after you tell me not to seek it?"

Taehyung was taken aback, falling silent. You watched him angrily, finding it unbelievable he really had nothing to say for such a crucial argument.

"I was fucking embarrassed, Taehyung. I thought you'd get mad at me for hovering around you while you were busy and stressed. I didn't want to fucking suffocate you."

"What? Jagi, no, this is important. I wouldn't have reacted like that at all. If you were hurting this much you could've told me and I would've done something. You can always talk to me, how could you not know that?" Taehyung inquired with a hint of accusation and it was like every cell in your body had set off.

"Oh fuck you, Kim Taehyung. Don't give me that bullshit! Of course I know, but I also know that you just get caught up in your own world and your extravagant idol life and I don't wanna fucking bother you when you’re living it without me!"

"Y/N, don't. I'm not trying to pick a fight with you, can you watch your tone a little?" Taehyung asked with a frustrated timbre.

"You know what? I won't, Taehyung, let's fight. Only way to get your attention, isn't it?" Your feelings had reached its peak as you decided to egg him on.

"Don't do this, Y/N. I'm trying to have a civilized conversation."

"And I don't want a civilized conversation, it's only making you ask me stupid questions."

"They're not stupid questions. Can you not understand my side of this?"

"Nope, I won't because I don't care about your side, actually."

"The fuck? And you just expect me to understand your side when you won't even try to understand mine? I’m expected to know how you feel? Well news flash, Y/N, I can't exactly read minds.” He humorlessly tapped his head for effect, quipping at you harshly.

"I'm not asking you to read my mind, I'm just asking you to fucking pay attention for once in your goddamn life." You rolled your eyes dramatically, arms crossed tight as ever.

Taehyung noticeably grew angry at the remark, his eyes narrowing in irritation. "Do not tell me of all people I don't pay attention. You know I've changed over the years but how attentive I am hasn't. Don't ever say that to me again." Taehyung's stern voice warned you of the line you were crossing.

You immediately softened and turned your attitude down a notch, only by a margin since you knew he would never grow angry enough to do anything to you.

"Fine, you pay attention, but clearly not enough." You acquiesced, looking away from him.

Taehyung tried his best to reason now that he sensed you yielding. "Look, this is my first time hearing about this, okay? I had no clue, especially because you seemed and acted fine with me. Of course I'm going to tell you you should've just talked to me, I'm seriously not asking stupid questions."

"Well, I didn't want to talk to you."

"And how was that going to help you? It's only making us argue over something so easily fixable." He indirectly accused you and you returned your eyes to his, narrowing them at his audacity.

"Wow, easily fixable, huh? Do you really think it takes that little to earn my forgiveness after neglecting me for an entire month? Am I that easy to you?" You smiled to yourself miserably, turning away as tears spilled from you.

Your assumptions were correct, he really just thought of you as some easy pushover. Part of this was your fault, wasn't it? Being so quiet and passive about everything. You voluntarily let him get away with everything, let him slip away without a fight, and the frustration of that realization came washing down on you, hard.

"No, wait. That's not what I meant. I just meant that if you'd let me known earlier, we wouldn't be fighting like this." Taehyung instantly softened at your tears with regret, internally facepalming himself.

"I didn't want to openly tell you, okay? It makes me seem...like an attention-seeker, and I was so afraid of bothering you." You wore your heart on your sleeve as your voice wavered, more tears escaping as you attempted to blink them away.

Taehyung looked at you with overwhelming worry. His heart was beyond broken now, his desire to fix everything growing stronger with every tear that dared escape your eyes.

He needed to make this right, fast.

"It doesn't make you a fucking attention-seeker, Y/N. Stop being so worried about how you appear to me, I'm with you for a reason. I accept you in any way, especially after how much we fought for this, for us. Your feelings too, they're all fucking valid to me. I really would've done something if you’d just told me how you felt." Taehyung practically pleaded, his pouty lips and devastated eyes making it clear he just wanted to reach some sort of consensus with you.

"But that's the problem, Tae." You sniffled, wiping some tears. "You keep saying I should’ve told you, when you should've noticed on your own in the first place."

Taehyung felt like someone had slapped him across the face, his lips parting as a deep look of realization dawned on his gorgeous face. "I…" He trailed, but couldn't let words out. He was realizing how stupid he was, how unobservant and ignorant. He hated it all, hated that he was so busy, hated that he didn't pay enough attention and hated that he hurt you.

You gave up when his lack of words warranted a tense silence between you two, cut short when you hastily left the room. You walked in the direction of the parking lot angrily. You just needed some air, needed to go home and cleanse yourself of him for the time being.

You thought you were being quick enough, until you heard laboured footsteps and Taehyung's low voice echoing in the hallway, tailing you.

"Y/N! Wait, wait! Please, don’t walk away!" Taehyung practically begged as he rushed to your side.

"I'm not gonna wait for anything, I'm going home!"

"Stop! My manager's gonna take us home tonight, okay? We're gonna talk about this." He stated with solidarity as he grabbed your arm, eager to patch things up.

"No we're not, and I have my own car, I'm getting myself home." You snatched your arm from him and marched on.

"You can leave it here for fuck's sake, and I said stop. We're going home together and sorting this out because I can't leave you like this, okay? We need to fix this."

"Awh, all I'm getting from that is you'll finally be home for once!" You chirped sarcastically, never looking at him as you practically stomped away. You saw him falter from your side, knowing he had to have paused at the heft of your comment.

You both eventually made it through the building’s doors, you needing to be pretty much dragged into his manager’s car despite your vehement protest, stupidly shut into the back with him.

You were turned away putting on an Oscar’s worthy performance of pretending he wasn’t there, and Taehyung was left to canvas his numerous thoughts as the car drove.

He realized he had said nothing to your comment earlier because.. you were right.

When was the last time he sat in a car with you like this? The last time you were both home together? The last time you both lazily threw your things onto the floor once you arrived home and immediately smothered each other after holding back all day? The last time he held you in his arms while you two watched a trashy movie?

Holy fuck, when was the last time we had sex? Made love?

He could only think of memories from weeks ago in quarantine, nothing recent. His solemn gaze fell upon you as he thought. He could feel the prominent tension between you two, the gut-wrenching distance, leaving a black hole swallowing his heart. He felt no ease, no affection, no love.

When did it fucking become like this?

He was still struggling to stomach the fact that he hurt you. He watched you regretfully, tears pricking at his eyes as he saw you attempting to hold back your own.

He then felt the sudden need to hold you, to comfort you. You had been pulling away from him for so long that he wanted nothing but to feel his large, warm hand cradle your smaller, colder one. Reassure you that while he's stupid, he's still here.

Taehyung looked at you and leaned over, deciding to gently slide a reaffirming hand atop yours, gripping your fingers with all the love and warmth he could muster.

He expected you to reject him, nearly giving up on a reaction until he felt your tentative hand just barely grab his back. Surprised, he took a relaxed breath.

I'm going to fix this.

Taehyung shut the door as you two sauntered into your apartment and you disregarded your things, heading straight for your room. You thought it would make Taehyung leave you alone, but he caught your hand as you began stepping away. He didn’t yank you; simply held your wrist, still and remorseful with your back to him.

A long pause passed as he stood in place, silence piercing the air until you spoke coldly, "What do you want?"

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could manage, his once powerful voice so incredibly small.

You searched for a response, the air becoming somewhat suffocating as you sighed. “I know.”

“No, you don’t. Jagiya, I mean it. I mean it with everything I have. I'm so sorry” Taehyung insisted with meaning, like he was seconds away from falling apart if you didn't believe him.

You could hear the sincerity in his words and you could feel how heartbroken he was, but your exhaustion amassed with all the emotions that had been attacking you all week were discouraging you from participating in any conversation right now.

“You may mean it, but that’s not fixing anything, Taehyung. You really don’t know how it felt to have you ignore me. To see you unaffected by our time apart. It felt like you were pushing me away, like I wasn’t worth your fucking time anymore.”

“That’s wrong, Jagiya. You are always worth my time.”

“Then maybe you’re just a contradictive jerk, Taehyung, I don’t know!” You threw your hands up as you broke his hold, turning around vexed.

"Because one day you're telling me to basically fuck off because you're too busy but the next you're saying I'm worth all your time? Where the fuck was that the last month then? All you had to do was spare me a couple hours a week, just a couple. I wasn't even asking for much, you could've made the time!"

“I'm sorry, okay! I’m a jerk, I get it, but I had a reason! I have a fucking reason but right now I want to apologize and say I'm sorry. I’m sorry I made you feel like that, I’m sorry I neglected you and made you feel alone, I never intended that!” Taehyung sincerely implored, eyes worried and persistent as he reached for you.

“Then what did you intend? Saying sorry after the fact does nothing. If you didn’t intend to hurt me then what did you intend to do?!” You shouted, evading his touch again.

“I was doing it for you! The reason was all for you, for us!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as anger seeped into your blood, unbelieving of whatever excuses you thought he was making up.

“For me? Us? Really? Wow, did you suddenly quit your job as an idol to become comedian of the fucking year?” You quipped venomously. "How the fuck is you ignoring me for a month 'for our relationship'?"

Taehyung was trying hard to calm himself down, thinking twice about how he was going to handle this. "Y/N, please, just try to trust me on this."

You scoffed disbelievingly, shaking your head as you quickly made your way further into the apartment and over to your TV. Taehyung's eyebrows furrowed as he watched you reach towards the shelf underneath it. It was adorned with cherished photos of the people you both held most dear; family, friends, the boys. Most of them consisted of Taehyung entertaining his love for photography, having snapped stunning photos of scenery, people or a combination of both he adored enough to frame.

But many were of you two, either in front of gorgeous landscapes or adorable candids. You picked up a photograph of you two in Daegu—Taehyung's big arms enveloping yours from behind as you hooked onto them, all smiles in front of his family's strawberry farm after his camera’s timer snapped the photo.

“See this? This is something you did for us, you told me you only take and frame photos of the most beautiful moments in your life, and you gave this to me telling me it was your favourite moment.” You placed the frame down, opting to grab the gray Sherpa blanket off the couch in front of you.

“This? You got this for me after I was diagnosed with anemia during Christmas and had been shivering for months. You told me not to worry because you’d always keep me warm and whenever you weren’t there I could use this blanket instead, think of it as you. You did that for me.” You disregarded the blanket and held up your wrist.

“This bracelet? You got it for our anniversary and made it our equivalent of promise rings because you know I hate rings. You even made sure your bracelet matched in a way that other people wouldn't notice and was only special to us." You watched as Taehyung slightly lifted his left hand to look at the mentioned bracelet. "You did that for me, for us.” Tears were brimming your eyes as you spoke, voice growing shaky.

“Taehyung, you did all those sweet and thoughtful things for us, for me. Those are the kinds of things you should be doing, not fucking hurting me by acting like I don't matter to you, making me question everything. What’s wrong with you? How could you scare me like that? Treat me like I’m nothing and say it’s for our relationship?”

“You're not, you're not nothing." Taehyung's voice caught in his throat, trying hard to dry his glassy eyes.

"I get it, Y/N. I fucking get it, what I’m doing right now may not seem as sweet as all those other things, but I promise it’s as thoughtful, it's still all for you. I’m serious when I say that, this is all because I love you. Why can’t you just believe me?”

"And why can’t you just say what it is? Why won't you tell me? Are you hiding something? Taehyung, what you did felt like anything but love-"

"That’s not true. The reason is insignificant right now because I didn't mean to hurt you, I’m so fucking sorry.” Taehyung's voice shook with genuity, trying once again to approach you, gingerly, affectionately.

Your anger couldn’t subside with the way he kept side-tracking, however, your emotions growing erratic again. "Are you kidding me? Insignificant? The reason is the most important! Just tell me, why did you ignore me for an entire fucking month?!”

"I said it's not fucking important right now. I want to apologize first, I didn’t mean to do it!" Taehyung was desperate to reason, eyes begging you to believe him.

“It is important! Tell me what you’re hiding.”

“It’s not important.”

“Yes it is!”

“No it isn’t!”

“Yes it is!”

“No it isn’t! I'm trying to earn your forgiveness firs-Y/N, what are you.." Taehyung’s eye widened in shock.

He couldn't finish his sentence because he watched you grab a cushion from the couch and suddenly launch it in his direction.

"What the fuck? What are you doing?!” Taehyung exclaimed as he dodged, his large hands instinctively catching the object, looking at you like a confused puppy. “Did you just throw that at me?!”

“I did! And I'll do it again until you tell me what you’re hiding!” You challenged him like a child and started reaching for throwable things. Pens, notepads, books, even a stray plastic water bottle all went hurtling towards Taehyung.

You couldn’t stop throwing out of frustration, his unfair gift of ambidextrous hands and incredible catching skills making you even more frustrated.

Did he really have to be made so fucking perfect?

He continued defending himself from your attacks until he grew annoyed, “For the love of God, Y/N, stop throwing shit! Just put everything down and listen to me, you have to trust me before I can even explain myself!” Taehyung shouted more so with concern for you, dodging a bottle of vitamins.

Now why the fuck was that just lying around?

You snorted condescendingly, "Again with that, trust you?" You mocked as the TV remote came into your hand.

"You know what, Taehyung? Let me explain for you, you’ve just found someone new who's not fucking staff, haven’t you? Our relationship got too difficult and you’ve finally had enough. You’re hiding shit to save my feelings, aren’t you?” You accused him much to your dismay, angry tears pooling in your eyes.

"What-no! Fuck no I would never do or think any of that!" Taehyung vehemently denied, finally having reached you and wrestled you for the remote. He eventually pried it out of your hands, throwing it away and holding your wrists as you resisted him.

"It’s none of that, alright? I was just so damn stressed and I had way too much work. There’s so much going on, it fucks with me and I didn't want to make you my fucking mental care, unload my idol life crap onto you. You're working just as hard and I didn't want to burden you.” Taehyung desperately revealed trying to reach you, upset that you could even think such ridiculous, lowly things of him.

"Don't you dare use work as an excuse. I know you were busy and stressed, but you were making time for everyone else in your life except me. Just say it, Tae. I know you're tired of us!"

"Fucking-Y/N, it's literally not that at all. I was actually busy, okay? What I said is true!" Taehyung pleaded, he knew he was only telling part of the truth, but it wasn't exactly a lie.

"It can't just be that, there's no way. What are you hiding from me? I'm serious, I'll leave this conversation if you don't, I'll leave this apartment if you don't-”

"No! Just-alright! You really wanna know so badly?” Taehyung inquired rhetorically, his jaw locking. “Fine then. You fucking got found out.”

You stopped fighting him and blinked, confusion riddling all your features. Taehyung sighed deeply and continued before you could say anything.

“We got too comfortable, okay? I'm still an idol and our team heard a shit ton of rumours spreading outside the company about me dating someone. They controlled most and knew any remaining ones would just turn into baseless gossip since nobody knew your identity. I’d just get talked about which I didn't care about. But people somehow started finding your face, your name, and your information was spreading fast. Management was scared you'd be made public especially with reporters and cameras so up our asses these days and watching us. I was terrified when they told me. I couldn't let anyone know you, not when they’d do or say shit to you just because we're together… so I had to do something."

Now it was your turn to stand in shock for several seconds, utterly wide-eyed at the bullet you didn't even know Taehyung was keeping from you.

“What-what the fuck? What do you mean? When did this happen?"

"The same time I started 'ignoring' you. Nobody pressured me to break up with you, but I was warned to dissolve the rumours asap. I took matters into my own hands by acting the way I did to get people thinking we were either broken up or never dating in the first place. I hated doing it.. but it started working. I didn't want to tell you anything because I knew you'd just say we could solve everything together when we weren't in a position to do so." Taehyung wasn't hiding his clear anguish, upset having to recall his awful memories of the ordeal.

You were still shocked at how little you knew, finding yourself at least understanding of his actions and reasoning, but crossed your mind better ways to have dealt with this; especially ones that didn't entail hurting you.

"But Taehyung, you should've let me known. If you had just told me I wouldn't have gotten hurt like this. Why would you keep this from me?"

"I just.. I couldn't tell you. It felt like I was breaking up with you and I couldn't handle it. Even when I finally had the balls to do it I ended up prolonging because I just got so busy and pushed everything away to focus. I felt like I could deal with it on my own, fix it all by myself. I didn't want to drop this on you when you were busy too."

You exhaled harshly, hating how unfair this entire situation was. "You could’ve told me with something like this, Taehyung. I can't just let you carry the burden all on your own, this entire problem had to do with me. We promised we wouldn’t keep shit from each other especially considering the circumstances of our relationship. Why would you break that promise?" Your eyes welled up again, inhaling painfully.

Taehyung paused, scoffing humorlessly. "Yeah? I broke that promise? Jagi...you broke that promise too."

You blinked again, his eyes piercing yours poignantly as you could only look back at him in defeat.

He was right.

He was entirely right, you hid your feelings from him and never told him anything, a clear violation of that promise on your end. But you couldn't let his wrongdoings go either, not on this; the hurt, the doubt, the thoughts he made you think. That pain was making you fall apart and the reality of it all came crashing down on you. "An apology still can’t fix this, Taehyung. I want to go to bed, we'll talk about this tomorrow.”

You pulled away and moved towards your room until Taehyung rushed in front of you, grabbing onto your arms.

“Wait! This isn’t over, baby please, just listen to me.”

“It is for today, Taehyung. I can't do this right now.”

“No, I don’t want tomorrow. I want this now, I want to talk to you now.” Taehyung insisted with what seemed like his entire being. He didn't want to spend tonight like this; he didn't want you to sleep upset, and neither did he.

“Taehyung, you’re making me repeat myself. Let me go, please. I’m exhausted.” You choked on your words, swiping your tears.

“No, I told you I’m not fucking letting you go, especially not now.” He gripped you stubbornly, searching for your eyes.

“Taehyung, for the love of God just let me go-”

“I said no!” Taehyung's volume suddenly pierced the room, his intense aura stilling you.

He didn't sound angry. rather in need, like he was calling out to you with his entire heart and the tight hold on your arms gave it all away.

You finally decided to pay attention to him. His tone beyond serious, his eyes swimming with worry. His miserable face and refusal to let you go regrettably softened you. You understood him, saw the desperation and concern behind all his actions.

But he chose to neglect you. He made you feel alone, made you overthink numerous possibilities about your relationship and even question his feelings for you.

"You.." You exhaled with agony, swallowing hard.

None of this was easy, the nights you spent curled up on the couch overthinking, lying to everyone that you were okay, working in the studio alone to get him off your mind, blaming yourself. The accumulated pain of all those days now manifested in your chest all at once, making your heart ache.

"You made me feel like I wasn't important to you, like I wasn't worth your time. I.. thought you found someone better, easier.. that I wasn't enough for you." Your voice crumbled by the second, your mind jumping to the one conclusion you tried to avoid the most but couldn't any longer.

"I thought you weren't in love with me anymore."

Taehyung's heart shattered into a million pieces, overwhelming hurt piercing his chest so violently that tears instantly betrayed his eyes.

He couldn't bear any of this anymore, the tension, the distance, couldn't bear that you ever thought such an awful thing. Small tears escaped him as he gently placed his hands on your face, looking into your eyes with insurmountable pain before colliding his lips with yours.

He kissed you tenderly, passionately, like his mouth was dying to express how much he'd missed you, and trying harder to prove how utterly wrong your last words were. Before you could even reject him, you found your own lips mirroring the same longing, the same need after a painful month apart.

Your eyes fluttered shut as tears stained your cheeks, the sheer love you could feel in his kiss suddenly brightening any parts inside you that had grown dark because of him. He began working against your mouth hungrily, trying to commit every inch of your lips to his memory.

The kiss was fervent, utterly desperate, your harsh breaths mingling together as his hands on your cheeks wiped your tears away gingerly and yours clutched his hoodie tightly.

It's like he was consuming all of you, attempting to deepen the kiss with every second that passed by as he pulled you closer. And for once this past month, you didn't feel like questioning his feelings for you, because he was now serving them on a silver platter, making it blatantly obvious he had never once lost his love for you and will never do so.

He kissed you like he wanted you and only you, he kissed you like you were fleeting and could disappear at any moment, he kissed you like you were his home, like you meant any and everything to him, like you were the only galaxy he believed in and it did nothing but set you both ablaze.

His tongue swiped your bottom lip impatiently, wanting to taste you after so long and you permitted absent-mindedly, damning every emotion except love and lust to hell, welcoming him.

His tongue entangled with yours sloppily as you slid your hands up his sculpted neck, a soft groan escaping Taehyung's lips once you tugged his hair.

It wasn't until Taehyung caught your bottom lip between his teeth that you felt something ignite inside you. You both panted as you disconnected, gazing at his dark eyes for a mere second before impatiently crashing your mouth onto his again.

This time you caught him for a heated make out session, pulling his hair aimlessly as Taehyung pressed you against him with his arms snaking around your waist, both of you moving perfectly in sync with one other. The feeling of your bodies so close ignited your arousals, currents running through both your veins.

Taehyung pushed you back against the nearest wall, hard. You nearly yelped at the contact but Taehyung swallowed it with his eager kisses, getting rougher, sloppier, growing high off the feeling of you wanting more, him wanting so much more.

He brought his thigh in between you, pushing his hips against yours and you felt his hardness through his sweatpants. Your panties practically soaked at the contact, your moans devastatingly loud and hot and only making Taehyung harder.

He brought his hands down to cup your ass momentarily as he kissed you, sliding them to the back of your thighs. You kicked yourself off the ground into his hold, legs grappling Taehyung's waist as he forced you back up against the wall. Your hands grabbed his jaw tightly, wanting all of him as your tongues moulded together.

Taehyung felt his urges to touch you overwhelm him, utterly dying to hear you desperately say his name and moan breathlessly into his ear. He had gone too long, far too long without feeling you lose yourself to him that he needed you now.

One of Taehyung's impatient hands moved up to fumble with the button of your jeans, disconneting to look into your eyes, his pink, swollen lips irresistible.

"Have you been touching yourself?" He breathed hard and asked mere centimeters your mouth, forehead leaning on yours.

"B-barely. I couldn't get myself off the same way." You exhaled harshly trying to calm down, mind woozy from the sheer adrenaline he was pumping through you. "You?"

"Tried, but nothing felt like you."

Taehyung returned his lips to yours breathlessly and unzipped roughly, sliding his hand inside and finding your already sopping wet heat. His fingers made contact through the soaked material and you let out a satisfied moan, throwing your head back against the wall. Taehyung chuckled proudly, pressing his lips to your exposed neck as he began lewdly rubbing your folds.

Your walls clenched around nothing, begging for something to fill you up. You shamelessly rode against his fingers, desperate for more friction and Taehyung absolutely adored how needy you were.

He smirked to himself as he pushed your underwear aside, his fingertips suddenly touching your bare pussy and you automatically felt sparks, gasping.

Taehyung felt your delicious wetness and a satisfied groan left his lips. He couldn’t stop rubbing you, playing with your folds like it was a game he mastered ages ago. His digits spread you all over yourself, teasing you. He purposefully brushed over your clit multiple times and you felt nothing but fireworks, the heat between your legs growing so hot you clutched onto his shoulders to stay sane.

"Fuck.. Taehyung fuck! If you go inside.. I can't.. I'll fucking lose it." You stammered out, trying to relax but Taehyung eyed your panting figure with a smirk so evil you wished he'd just fuck you against this wall right now.

Taehyung brought his lips to your ear and spoke lowly, the bass in his voice sending chills down your spine.

"Then fucking lose it."

Without warning, Taehyung shoved his two fingers inside you, a smug grin decorating his gorgeous face as he watched you nearly cry out, gripping harder into his hair and shoulder for dear life. His fingers began sliding in and out, your walls welcoming him greedily as he pumped you, milking out every beautiful sound you could make for him as he relished in them.

Taehyung was already the hardest man on Earth, his cock painfully tucked away in his pants and aching to be inside you. You brought your forehead against his for support as he went harder, your breaths melding as you panted fucked out moans from the sheer bliss of his long fingers, just something of his dragging inside you.

Your body moved up against the rougher thrusts of his fingers, practically fucking you open and the delectable sting certifying you’d lost it for Kim Taehyung.

You suddenly felt your insides beginning to stir around him and you panicked, not wanting to let go just yet, just on his fingers.

"T-Taehyung.. shit.. I can feel but- but not just on this." Your head was so gone a coherent sentence seemed impossible. Taehyung's fingers curled up inside you as he pumped a little harder, faster, making you whimper against his mouth and he used every ounce of strength he had not to swallow them with kisses, just so he could hear you.

"Taehyung, please.." You moaned loudly and held onto him so desperately that Taehyung finally snapped, his dick throbbing to have you wrapped around him and hear his name just like that.

"Fuck this." Taehyung pulled his fingers out and carried you straight into your room.

He threw you down onto the bed hurriedly, his eyes blown out as he positioned himself above you. You breathed unevenly as you looked up at him, his body rising and falling quickly as he tried to control himself and his hungry look made you push your thighs together.

The sight of your flushed cheeks and panting body underneath him made Taehyung's dominant side thrive. He drank you in greedily, registering this as the first time in a month he had you all to himself.

"You don't fucking know, Y/N. All those times I had to hold back. When you walked around the studio looking sexy as hell, moving your body like pure sin, and I couldn't do a single thing to you." Taehyung's dark eyes indicated something had awakened inside him.

"What do you mean?"

Taehyung scoffed, "You just don't get it." He mimicked you from earlier. “I was putting on a front and none of it was true. Every fucking time I saw you I wanted to lose it. Every time I saw you concentrating with that look, working, seeing your exposed skin, all the times I caught you practically eye-fucking me and I wanted to eye-fuck you back." Taehyung breathed out, voicing his pent up tension.

"But you know what was worse? The times I saw you laughing with fucking Jungkook, screwing around with Jin-hyung, the guys acting so close with you. Watching back-up dancers eye-fuck you, hearing all their fucking comments about how hot you are, people asking if you’re single now, and I couldn't do shit because everyone was always around, watching." Taehyung breathed frustratedly, dangerous eyes locked on you.

"You know I don't get openly jealous, but my blood still boils under my skin when I see or hear those things, especially when I can’t do anything about it. I wanted you.. so badly, just wanted to take you right there in front of everyone if I could.." Taehyung nearly growled as his head hung low, entangling his hands with yours and squeezing them on the bed.

"Then why didn't you?"

Taehyung's eyes flashed up amusedly, "Why didn’t-you wanted me to do something in front of everyone?” His confusion softened into a little smirk.

“You wanted to be watched, huh?" Taehyung lowered himself to your ear. "Wanted everyone see the way I fuck you? See the way I make you mine? Fuck you open for me?” Taehyung was setting your core on fire and you had to bite your lip.

He noticed and hated that his lips weren't on yours, quickly planting them for a kiss.

The weight of Taehyung's leg pushing against your throbbing heat started compromising your sense of control, wanting to rile him up so bad he'll have no choice but to give you what you want.

"Fuck, this is what I've been waiting for. Teasing you under me, cumming just from my fingers and tongue, fucking you senseless until you’re cumming again." Taehyung's words were filthy as ever and you loved every syllable.

"Then do it."

He smiled smugly as his mouth moved to the one spot on your neck he knew leaves you squirming. Curses left your mouth the second you felt his teeth, Taehyung adamant on leaving deep, purple marks.

“I'm gonna show everyone you're mine, only mine.” Taehyung’s authoritative voice came out breathy as he kissed and bit in between, obsessed with seeing the art he was creating.

"Shit… Taehyung yes, I missed you, I missed you so fucking much." You desperately stammered out.

"I fucking missed you too, baby." He smiled, his dark eyes glancing from your zip-up sweater and back to you. "But first, off."

Your hands moved for the zipper until Taehyung caught your wrists and forced them back against the bed, obsidian eyes scolding you.

"That's my job." Taehyung spoke dominantly, hot as fuck as he stared at you while bringing his mouth down to your zipper.

His teeth caught it and slowly zipped down your body, pronouncedly breathing against your bare skin that made you hiss, arching up into him as he held your hands down.

Taehyung was welcomed by your bra-cladded chest, basking in the glory of seeing your body after so long. He began laying kisses in between your breasts, his every contact electric.

"Taehyung, please.. don't tease. It’s been so long."

"We'll see about that."

He reached a hand underneath your back to unclip your bra, practically ripping the clothes off you and chucking them.

Taehyung was heating up drinking you in, cursing at how even the sight of your naked top was making him somehow harder.

"Shit, Jagi. You're so fucking gorgeous." Taehyung stated with haste as his large hands found your thighs that rested either side of his hips. He then slowly slid them up your abdomen, cupping your breasts and fingering your nipples. Your hands reached out to hold onto him as you exclaimed but he roughly pinned them above you, restricting you.

He lowered himself to your chest for hickeys, kissing, licking, nibbling the flesh of your boobs. You arched and groaned as he held you down, sexually frustrated as he torturously teased you.

"Taehyung, please… you know what I want." You breathed out, your hands resisting but he kept denying you.

"You’re so fucking hot like this, so impatient and needy for me." Taehyung groaned, lapping his tongue over the flesh of your breasts until the tip of his tongue finally glided over your perched nipple.

You gasped at the contact, whimpering as your walls clenched around something non-existent and you bucked up into Taehyung. You could feel heat pooling at your core, begging to be battered as he sucked on your nipples, tongue doing wonders.

Marks now embellished your chest as he kissed down to your stomach affectionately and neared your lower half, exciting your opening.

Your eyes darted down and suddenly caught his length, poking out from his sweatpants and practically begging for attention.

He instantly took notice.

"No, princess. It’s about you tonight, not me, no touching." Taehyung ordered seriously, looking at you with a sense of dominance that only left you more aroused.

You made a whiny noise, "Why not? I want to make you feel good." You retorted, wiggling your hand out to touch him until Taehyung locked you down harder.

He clicked his tongue as he began pulling your pants and panties down your legs with one hand, his dark eyes chastising you, "We'll get to me another day." He disregarded them and let his hand feel up your thighs, bringing his face to your entrance.

"But right now, having you like this, begging-” he nipped at your inner thigh, “making those sounds-” he licked the marks, “wet as hell for me-” he sucked your flesh, “that's all I need." His tone dropped an octave, letting your wrists go and nearing your cunt inch by inch.

"Taehyung, fuck-don't do this. Please, it's been too long, don't tease.." You pleaded, hating the way he was shamelessly working you up.

"Do you need me, baby?" Taehyung watched your breath hitch as he kissed around your nether lips. "Need to feel me inside you? Stretch you out? Fuck the shit out of you?" His low, dark tone made butterflies fill your abdomen and all you could manage was a light nod.

"Tell me, Jagiya. Tell me what you want from me, where you want me.." Taehyung breathed against your soaked pussy and you shivered, beyond impatient.

"Y-your tongue, your cock, Taehyung, you. Please..I can’t do this.. just fuck me, make me come all over you.." You rambled and looked at Taehyung through hooded eyes. You grabbed one of his hands and brought him directly to your dripping heat, rubbing him against your slit unforgivingly.

Taehyung groaned proudly, "Good girl. I'll fuck you so good you’ll feel me for hours, so hard I’ll have to carry you to rehearsals myself." Taehyung's filthy words rang in your ears.

A loud moan escaped you once Taehyung's pillowy lips and tongue pressed onto your pussy, your breath hitching as his muscle began licking into your folds. Taehyung hooked onto your thighs from underneath, parting your legs wider for him. Your hands found his broad shoulders for support and you tugged at his hoodie frantically, whining.

"Taehyung, off.."

Taehyung drew away from you to slide his top off. He threw the sweater mindlessly as he returned, deciding to sink two fingers inside you as his tongue began licking. His newly exposed skin made you feel more aroused, tugging his soft curls to manage the bliss he was supplying you.

His tongue licked you like he was starving, sucking and flicking your clit occasionally as his fingers curled up inside your velvety walls. You felt like crying, after such a long time the pleasure was already building up inside you and so intense you needed to let go.

"Taehyung-Tae.. I feel it. Don't stop..." You moaned weakly, your orgasm dawning on you as Taehyung quickened his pace. His dark eyes watched you through his fluffy fringe and it was intoxicating, had you throwing your head back against the pillow just to contain yourself.

"Come for me baby, come all over my tongue and fingers. I wanna hear you.” Taehyung cooed at you as he pumped and the tip of his tongue played with your clit faster, soothing your thigh and adoring the wet mess in between you. Your loud moans and groans sent shivers down Taehyung's spine and blood straight to his cock.

The familiar sensation of something coiling came to you, gripping Taehyung's hair until you saw stars and felt a fierce snap, the unholiest of noises leaving you as your back arched. You panted hard, bringing an arm up to shield your eyes, the pleasure of your high dizzying as Taehyung watched you, tasting and fingering out your orgasm.

He kissed your entrance multiple times before he decided he was done. He straightened himself up and wiped your juices off his chin, licking your essence off him. Feeling you come undone on his mouth made him go feral, needing to feel your walls hug his cock just the same.

He positioned himself above you, gently moving your arm from your face.

"Don't hide from me." he spoke softly, intertwining his hands with yours against the pillow to adore your fucked out expression.

You admired him innocently in the moment, his honey-coloured skin kissed by the moonlight radiating through the windows. The expanse of his broad chest and shoulders looking more bulky now that he was working out, his thick neck, the beautifully visible veins in his arms that all created the art that was Kim Taehyung.

Your eyes scanned over him greedily until you landed on his lower half, the tent in his pants looking so painful you again ached to relieve it.

Taehyung eyed you as you licked your lips, boldly reaching out for his dick. You touched sparingly, Taehyung instantly letting out a pleasurable groan until he caught your hand.

"What did I say? You never fucking listen, do you?" Taehyung brat-handled you, his alpha male on full display.

“What if I don’t want to listen?” You disobeyed and reached out again, gaining full contact until he grabbed and forced your hand against the sheets.

“I’ll make you regret that."

Taehyung quickly shuffled his pants and boxers down and past his hips, disregarding them and leaving him bare before you.

Your eyes began ogling the angry, red tipped cock that had sprung out, looking painfully uncomfortable and leaving you wishing Taehyung had just fucked your mouth just watch him suffer. He was already leaking precum, making you whimper at the thought of him coming inside you.

Taehyung positioned himself in between your legs, bringing his dick to your entrance. He tried to bite away a mischievous grin before sliding his cock against your folds to mix your wetness with his.

"Shit, Jagi, you're so fucking wet." Taehyung moaned with you at the pleasurable feeling.

"Fuck, Taehyung…I can’t, I need.. inside." Your sentence was mangled, his hot flesh against you heavenly.

"Shit, saying my name like that..I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll feel me in your throat." Taehyung growled, gripping the base of his cock and aligning himself with your entrance. You readied yourself until Taehyung stopped, a thought suddenly popping into his head.

"Wait, you got your shot this month, right? You're okay with raw?" He asked with no particular haste, concern glossing over his eyes.

Taehyung's chest suddenly tightened realizing he didn't even know something as simple as you getting your shot, important to him since your phobia of needles was so bad you usually needed to hold his hand or talk to him on the phone.

But he was so busy this month he couldn't do either.

"Of course, Taehyung, of course I did." You breathed out erratically, trying to calm down after his tormenting cock sliding. You gave his hand that held yours against the bed a squeeze, wishing he would begin battering your insides already.

"Fuck, I know how much you're afraid of needles.. I should've been there." Taehyung became disappointed in himself, eyes faltering from yours.

You immediately grew soft, "Taehyung.. it's okay, if it's for you then I'm not so scared. Don't worry, bubs." You said as you let go of his hands to cup his cheeks, searching for his eyes.

"But you get them just for me..even though you're so scared. I love you for that." Taehyung doted on you as he tucked your hair behind your ear, completely contrasting his cock about to abuse you.

"Taehyung, baby it’s okay, I'm okay. I'm with you right now. I want everything you thought of, everything you want with me… I want you." You looked into his doe eyes tinted with guilt, offering him a smile.

Taehyung returned a light smile of his own, pressing a feathery kiss to your lips before he grabbed the base of his cock again. He gripped your hand hard as his dick compromised your opening.

He hissed once he sank in, the feeling of your pussy opening up for him eliciting a drawn out 'fuck' to leave his mouth.

Taehyung could feel how tight you were after a month without him; you weren't as stretched out and he felt drunk. The way your walls hugged his rock hard dick so snug, so intoxicating he wanted to completely lose control but refrained with you in mind.

You thought you were used to the pleasurable burn of Taehyung's gifted size, already aware of how well-endowed he is but you suddenly felt a harsh sting and forced your hands against his chest, exasperating. Taehyung immediately stopped, widening his eyes in concern.

"Are you okay?"

"Just-just give me a second." He nodded, feeling your breaths calm down as he soothed over your arm, your walls relaxing

"Y-you can move." You voiced weakly.

Taehyung complied and moved in considerately, failing to suppress the low groans that left him. He finally bottomed out and hit your cervix, both of you letting out satisfied grunts at the feeling of him buried so deep. He could feel the way your walls pulsed around him to adjust, adding to his lists of reasons he was insane for you.

Taehyung kissed you as he began fucking gently, slowly, wanting to feel the way you wrapped around him, craving for you to feel every inch, groove and vein of his cock.

The feeling of him slowly and languidly thrusting inside you felt otherworldly, the longing, the care, the love in his movements so apparent you grappled the back of his neck to hug him closer. Taehyung rocked himself against you, laying deep kisses to your mouth.

"Fuck, baby.. you're so tight." Taehyung breathed out, unable to hold back his sense of control, gradually fastening his pace to fuck you better, feel more.

"How does it feel, princess, tell me." Taehyung cooed into your ear, now kissing underneath your jaw. Your lewd noises grew louder as he began pumping faster and Taehyung looked at you.

"Shit, Taehyung. I-I feel so fucking good. You fill me up so good… want more.” You practically whined, head spinning at his intoxicating pace, wrapping your legs around Taehyung's torso to feel him deeper.

Taehyung weakened at the feeling, kissing your lips with fervor and now thrusting faster as his need to come undone racked his balls, but aching to treat you first. His skin was imprinted with your scratches, him only fucking you faster in response.

"Harder, Taehyung, fuck me harder..!" Your voice trailed with a mewl, kissing him sloppily as your desire for more of him grew unbearable.

Taehyung smirked against your lips, "You want it harder, huh? You like that? Want me to fuck up your insides? Batter this pussy up?"

"Y-yes, Taehyung, please."

Taehyung already felt fucked out, wrestling with your tongue as he wrapped his arms around your torso and pressed you flush against him. You both groaned louder as his pace turned unforgiving, 99% sure your neighbours could hear every lewd sound.

"Taehyung.. fuck. I missed you. I missed you so much!” You spoke without a thought, light-headed but hyper aware of just how much you wanted him, needed him, not only with his cock buried inside you but just him, so close to you.

"Shit, baby.. I missed you more. So much. So fucking much, you don’t even know." Taehyung growled desperately as he fucked deeper, kissed harder, his tone coated with sincerity.

Both your confessions made for rougher fucking, nasty tongue kissing, tighter grasps on each other. You rutted against one another shamelessly, movements faltering in precision and more so in desperation as Taehyung shoved himself inside you.

And he watched as he did, seeing the way he disappeared into you between your bodies and enjoying the way you bounced in response.

"Taehyung, fuck, Taehyung.." You moaned out his name breathlessly as you gripped his shoulders, feeling your abdomen flood with heat as his cock kissed your cervix.

"Jagiya, fucking-watch it, say my name like that again and I'll fuck the living shit out of you." Taehyung warned with a growl as he rammed into you.

"T-Taehyung.."

“Such a bad fucking girl."

His arms suddenly locked you down in place, holding you tight as he began the roughest, hardest thrusts you've felt all night. Taehyung deliberately pulled all the way out only to smash back in as he felt your body jerk up in response, swallowing your whimpers.

Your moans were loud, ringing in your own ears as you felt yourself losing your sanity. He snapped into your gut, filled you up so good all you could feel was him. Your orgasm was bubbling in your stomach, begging for release now.

"Taehyung, I'm gonna- fuck, I'm gonna come!” You warned him with a pitchy yelp, the tingling feeling unbearable as his body rubbed against your clit.

"Come for me, baby, all over my fucking cock, Let me feel you." Taehyung encouraged as he desperately tried to hold his own load, wanting nothing but to witness the way you came underneath him.

And out of nowhere your second orgasm washed over you, barely noticing the snap as you ached from oversensitivity and protested him to a halt. Taehyung controlled himself as your walls continuously clamped down on him, watching you pant from fatigue.

But he decided on your punishment and suddenly flipped you onto your stomach, instinctively settling on all fours as you felt him prod your entrance. He pushed you to arch your back and pulled your ass up, giving a nice smack before kissing up your back like the demon he is. He sank in with no warning and began drilling into you again, setting a merciless pace and angling himself to fuck you completely open.

“T-Taehyung, what are you doing!”

“You’re coming for me again.”

“I can’t- Taehyung I can’t!” Your hand quickly came down to entangle with his on your hip, his deft fingers boring into your skin as he mercilessly buried every inch of his cock into you.

“You can do it! Just one more time for me princess, let go for me.” He coaxed you as he felt your walls pulsating around him again, his arms hugging your body to his and mouth breathing unevenly near your ear.

"Taehyung, Ah- fuck! C-come inside me, please!”

"Shit, I’ll stuff you with my cum, fucking give you my kids!” Taehyung grunted as he continued bartering your pussy, reaching down to roughly rub your clit. You cried out, half from sensitivity but half from pure pleasure, gripping his hand hard.

You felt the coil coming back for a third time and Taehyung’s encourgements were doing absolute wonders. "Taehyung-shit I’m gonna..fuck!”

Once he delivered a particularly hard, deep thrust with his hand on your clit, you gasped out his name as another orgasm released through your body, temporarily blinding you with bliss. Your legs grew weak as you buried your face into the pillow, trying to catch your breath.

“Just like that, baby, just like that.” Taehyung spoke supportively as he thrusted one last time before finally coming inside you, helping you ride out your climax. He groaned into your ear as he spurted hot stripes of cum inside you. You squeezed his hand on your stomach that still held you up, feeling him milk himself of every drop he had racked up just for you.

Once Taehyung felt completely vacant of his seed, relief washed over him as he kissed your upper back, both of your bodies lax and panting for air.

"You're amazing." Taehyung tried steadying his breathing, beaming as he hugged you from behind, cock still throbbing inside you. "I fucking… I held that back for so long."

"You didn’t have to… I would've thrown myself at you if you just came home." You breathed shallowly. "Could've done whatever you wanted.. I planned...on treating you cause you were so stressed."

Taehyung rolled his eyes at himself, "Ugh-don’t remind me. I already feel dumb as fuck."

You turned your head back and scolded jokingly, "Don't call yourself dumb, only I get to say that." A soft giggle escaped him as he let you go. Taehyung slowly pulled out and watched as he did so, viewing the mess in between your legs with admiration.

Taehyung swiped the cum dripping down your thighs back into your core, completely stuffing you with him until he brought his fingers to your lips. He watched you lick provocatively, his breath hitching at the sight until needing to pull his fingers out.

He then quickly made off the bed and ambled over to the bathroom, retrieving a damp towel and cleaning you up gingerly. He plopped down next to you after discarding it and threw an arm over his eyes.

You turned to look at him, feeling the butterflies of him next to you flood your chest. You wiggled closer and propped yourself on an elbow to gaze at him, your other arm laying on his chest.

Taehyung felt your eyes on him and spoke without looking. "Hi."

"Hi," you moved his arm from his face, echoing him. "Don’t hide from me."

Taehyung grinned at you, lifting his arm. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're madly in love with me. Don’t do that, I don't really deserve it." He stated dejectedly, evading your eyes to rather view the night sky.

"Kim Taehyung, what did you just say to me?"

No response.

You sighed, "Bubs, look at me." requesting with a softer tone and he returned his eyes to you hesitantly. You wagged your finger at him.

"Don't say that, okay? Maybe you should’ve told me, maybe I should’ve been more vocal about my feelings, maybe we both should’ve just communicated. It's not only your fault, it's mine too so please don't say that." Your bottom lip jutted out and your eyes implored him, upset that he was insulting himself.

He deserved every ounce of love in this world.

"Maybe.. I just..Fuck, you need to know I hated doing it, okay? Every time I saw you in that building I was dying to be with you, but I had to hold back to protect you. I couldn’t bear something happening to you, and please, please don’t think I don’t love you anymore. I do, I love you more than you’ll ever know. If I could throw all of this away for you I would." Taehyung spoke sincerely, remembering the way he saw you admit such an awful thought and he hated that he was the cause of it.

"You really don’t know how hard it was. I’m writing lyrics for my mixtape and they all end up about you. We're out at a photoshoot and I always wanted to send you pictures. I didn’t use SNS, call or text you because I knew it’d just be harder for me to create that stupid ass distance.” Taehyung ran a hand through his hair as he sighed, frustrated about it.

“Even when I was shooting commercials I thought about your reactions if you saw them. I missed you the whole time, more than you know. I just couldn’t risk anything, there was so much on the line with you and I wasn’t going to give you up. Work got in the way and there was so much happening and I just-"

“Shh shhh.” You calmed him down reaching for his cheek. “Thank you for that. I'm sorry you had to do everything by yourself, had to carry all that responsibility alone." Your lips quivered, catching Taehyung's attention.

"No, it's okay. I'm the one who made you think all those shitty things. I do find you annoying, but I could never find you that annoying." Taehyung quipped to lighten the mood and you smacked his chest.

"Hey!"

"I'm kidding, Jagi." Taehyung chuckled before letting out a long, hard sigh. "I was just so swamped with this comeback, I’m working really hard for it and got too focused." He explained regretfully, tucking his hands underneath his head.

"So you just thought fuck me for a little while, right?"

"Wha-no I didn't, I mean.. I did just fuck you but-not like that…shit, just come here!” Taehyung suddenly turned onto his side and threw his arms out, you scooted over to him instantly, giggling. He tightly wrapped his arms around you and hugged you close, pressing his lips to your hair and you kissed his shoulder.

Your hand absentmindedly found his and you intertwined them, causing a warm and comforting feeling to spread across your chest.

You found yourself becoming smaller in his hold, clutching his hand to compose yourself because you didn't feel like ruining a passionate night with tears.

Nonetheless, Taehyung sensed you growing vulnerable and pulled you on top of him, your naked bodies flush against one another. Taehyung immediately showered you with comfort, clutching you close to him.

"I’m not going anywhere, you’re with me for a lifetime, Jagiya." The smooth bass of Taehyung's voice eased you, reverberating from his chest as he senselessly soothed your back.

"Please, don't do that again. Please just tell me next time when there's a problem, I'll tell you too and we can work it out together." A hint of desperation tinted your tone, shutting your lips together to prevent yourself from crying.

"I won't, baby, I promise." Taehyung hugged you a little tighter, running a hand through your hair.

"I love you, Taehyung."

"I love you, Y/N."

#taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #kim taehyung x reader #bts smut #taehyung scenario #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #first fic #thebtswritersclub

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gaycey-sketchit · 2 years ago

Note

(Gary anon) Not gonna lie, but Journeys reminded me why I watch anipoke; or rather keep an eye from a distance, on its events and how you need keep your expectations reasonable, when it has pulled stuff like Thunder Armor and Tobias. (In TRio's case, the seriousness gets dropped after the halfway point, I think I even remembered that being "announced" in a trailer. Dawn's BW return was apparently mixed too, but most of the blame was put on Iris.

(Part 2) As if Dawn has never been snarky before. Really says something when some; just like with Misty during SM, think Iris' development was "improved" when she came back in JN. Gives away much of BW you watched) That, and all the continuity probably took a hit on things too. Just for the circumstances to get it to work alone. (When you're a byproduct of the series and its writing, the fandom is going bare the weight of the reception on you)

(Part 3) I don't think I've seen so much flak against the staff since XY, but that was mainly for one thing. Everything in JN has got attacked in every angle. (Even if there was a new Eeveelution, it's really hard for Chloe to fully come back from this, unless her [and Goh] continue into the next series and are given something a bit more consistent) Doesn't help that Yamper looked like it going to join her. (Apparently Tobias' VA caught it too. Wish them all well)

(Part 4) Well, we got a Goh poster coming up this month that looked similar to the Chloe one last month. Project Mew after the semifinals is looking more likely. (Also seem to have gotten the first sign of S/V anipoke merch, so we're probably get news on what's up soon and Ash's fate. If he does continue, I wonder if it'll be a new character that introduces Paldea to him or Gary works his magic again a third time)

(Part 5) The ultimate spectacle in the making of Ash meeting Red is upon us in Pokemon Masters. And more S/V news! Seems like they're trying to keep things more under wraps this time, but at least we got the new gimmick and more on the open world. I see most took to the new Wooper that dropped, and Fidough. And the new characters. xD

Fair.

Oh, I vaguely remember hearing about that.

Man, people look for any excuse to hate on Iris, huh. I wonder why. (I do not wonder, I think we both Know.)

Yeah, Journeys was ambitious, and there have been some... issues because of that.

I guess so, but man. The fact that some people direct more intense hatred toward Goh than I do toward characters that remind me of my actual literal abusers... I think maybe this fandom needs to chill a little sometimes. Acting like that about a fictional ten year old is weird.

Yeah, Journeys really has been picked apart for literally everything.

Alas. I mean, maybe they stand a chance at that, but I doubt that’d be received well either.

D: Covid’s been hitting so many people. Hopefully they can all recover!

Oh, makes sense. Honestly really excited to see how the Project Mew stuff plays out, I feel like I’m one of the like five people who’s actually enjoying that plotline.

Oh? I have to say I’m really hoping Ash will continue into Paldea because I would miss him too much if he didn’t. Would love to see Gary do his thing a third time.

That’s going to be fun! Excited for Ash to maybe be a playable sync pair? Ash Ketchum telling me good morning would be the ultimate joy.

I opted not to watch the SV stuff because I like to go into new Pokemon games with as little prior knowledge as possible (and proceeded to go on Twitter and mute as many relevant words/phrases I could think of for the same reason) but! Glad people have responded well for the most part! Hopefully these games will be received more positively than SwSh were, I do not want to go through that ordeal again. Just about three more months until release, that’s exciting!

#thanks for the patience with me taking forever to answer this! Finally getting a day off and my social energy's been returning #Andrew answers #Gary anon

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gamergirlshelby · 3 years ago

Text

Round 3: Tokiya Iori vs Tsutsumi Natsumi

Alright everyone, here is the fight Tokiya has been dreading the possibility of since the tournament began.

Content Warnings: Fighting and Heavy Injuries (Pretty much just for Tokiya, mans got his head handed to him)

Extra Credits: Art and Tsutsumi by @glitchviper, go follow them, their art is so cool!

Without further adieu, let the fight begin!

Tokiya had been dreading the inevitability of the fight for Round 3 of the tournament. Ever since the full bracket had been revealed for Round 1, Tokiya knew he would have a rough time with all of the possible contenders if he had made it to round 3.

Then Tokiya had won their fights in both rounds 1 and 2, making it all the way to round 3. That was when Tokiya knew it had been the beginning of the end.

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Tokiya had walked up the side of the arena as he had done twice before, having concocted a plan to win against Natsumi before hand. The plan left little room for error, so Tokiya needed to be as careful to make sure he could enact the plan without any issue. Unfortunately for Tokiya they did not have all of the variables to make sure the plan would go flawlessly.

The plan was to fast forward fast enough to be able to use the outer momentum to push Natsumi out of the boundaries, ending the battle quickly so Tokiya can move on to the next round without much stress. The issue was how fast would Tokiya need to go, because if he fast forwarded to fast there would be no energy created since for him his surroundings would be as if they had been slowed, so no momentum could be created, essentially having Tokiya teleport to the desired spot instead of rushing there with a large amount of force. There was also the issue of how much force would Tokiya need to be able to actually move Natsumi, who is much bigger than Tokiya in stature. Tokiya could also try to slow Natsumi down, but that would also cause her to move slower when being pushed out of bounds, maybe giving her the chance to grab him, which would make it hard for Tokiya to get the clean cut victory he had wished for.

Tokiya then took a deep breath, and waited for the announcer to begin the countdown to the start of the fight.

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"Alright everybody! It's time for the next fight for round 3 of this year's Sports Festival! As per usual I am the announcer for those of you at home and in the stands, Present Mic! With me today is my co-announcer Eraserhead! How are you doing today, buddy?!"

"I'm waiting for you to do the countdown so the fight can start." Eraserhead said to his loud friend.

Tokiya didn't mind Present Mic's loud behavior, it reminded him of Ina from back home, even if Ina is never nearly as loud as Mic could be. "Alright, alright, now a reminder to the combatants, the fight is over once either one of the combatants is out of bounds or is unable to continue fighting. Now the fight will begin in 3! 2! 1!"

"Go." Eraserhead said, cutting in.

The second Tokiya heard the go ahead, he activated his fast forward, going to 20x speed, the fastest he had gone during the Sports Festival. Tokiya then immediately began running toward Natsumi, then once he reached Natsumi his plan immediately came crashing down, as she had then grabbed him. "Crap." Tokiya said before getting thrown across the stadium.

Tokiya reacted quickly however, stopping his fast forward, by saying "Stop." as a verbal cue to help him focus on stopping his fast forward. Tokiya then quickly used his slow down to help him slowly fall down to help avoid the massive amount of damage from being quickly thrown to the ground. Tokiya then got up from the ground, and looked back up to Natsumi, who had appeared to have been transformed since before Tokiya had even noticed the changes. "She must be fast enough to at least react to my speed in that form." Tokiya thought to himself. "This is gonna be a lot harder than I thought."

Natsumi then formed a short sword using her shadows. She must be trying to keep me in a specific area of the arena. "I can improvise with that." Tokiya thought. Tokiya then rushed forward towards Natsumi. If Tokiya could throw Natsumi off-guard for even a second, he could gain the upper hand and win the fight. And his plan involved the short sword Natsumi had created using her shadows.

Tokiya's plan was to cause a small cut using Natsumi's short sword, causing her to be distracted for at least a moment, hopefully giving Tokiya the opportunity to push Natsumi out of bounds. Tokiya knew that Natsumi would try to avoid causing serious injury using her weapons as often as possible in a combat situation, so it was extremely likely she would take a second to react to Tokiya's risky decision. Plus, Tokiya should be able to rewind himself to a point before the injury as long as the short sword doesn't cause to much damage.

Tokiya then rushed towards Natsumi at 10x speed, who was thrown off guard by Tokiya's risky behavior. Tokiya then grabbed a hold of Natsumi's arm adjusting the sword to give Tokiya a small cut on his arm. Just as planned, Natsumi had been disoriented for a moment giving Tokiya a moment to try and shove Natsumi out of bounds. However when Tokiya had tried to shove Natsumi, he couldn't. Tokiya was not strong enough to have Natsumi move a muscle, and this realization had made Tokiya freeze for a moment. This had given Natsumi the advantage she needed to kick Tokiya off her. That had been the point where it had been the beginning of the end for Tokiya.

After Natsumi had kicked Tokiya off her, she did not give him any time to get back up, and was quick to grab him again. At this point Tokiya had realized that she was going to try and end the fight as quickly as possible. Tokiya had decided to try and fast forward himself to try and shake out of Natsumi's grip on his arm, but it was no use, she just had to strong of a grip on Tokiya. After that, Natsumi had thrown Tokiya out of bounds. Unfortunately Tokiya was still fast forwarded so what was meant to be a nice little drop outside of the boundaries of the arena turned into basically yeeting Tokiya onto the concrete, with an audible crack.

"Well folks," Present Mic began, "It looks like Tokiya Iori is out of bounds, as well as unable to continue battling! I would now like to announce that Tsutsumi Natsumi is the winner of the fight and will be moving on to the next round!"

Tokiya then began to talk, visibly in a lot of pain. "Hey uhhh Natsumi?"

"...Yeah?" The severity of the situation immediately hitting her the second Tokiya hit the ground.

"Could you take me to Recovery Girl's office? I think I bit my tongue."

As two members of UA's medical staff enter the arena with a stretcher, Natsumi responded, after pausing a moment. "I honestly don't know how to talk to you sometimes Iori."

"Hehe, yeah. Congrats on winning by the way. It was a fun fight even though I had no chance."

"Thanks, but I'd argue that you had a bit of a chance." Natsumi responded, but Tokiya didn't believe her.

"If you say so." Tokiya said before being brought off to the medical wing by the staff.

#bnha oc comeback #tsutsumi natsumi // edge #tokiya iori // chrono #I had so much fun working on this post with Rhys!#I wanted to make sure Tokiya had one fight where he pretty much went all out so that's what I had gone for when writing the fight #Anyways I hope you enjoyed the fight! And good luck to the rest of the contenders in the rest of the tournament!

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plumrabbit · 4 years ago

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DA Fandom and moving forward - Calling In vs. Calling Out

Hi everyone,

As a PoC member of the DA fandom, I felt I have been quiet for long enough on the issues that have been presented recently. I am not here to argue against or on behalf of any individual or group, I am only here to present some information that I hope will be helpful moving forward. This is a long post, but it’s my hope that if you read it and want to help contribute to making this place better for everyone, then you will be willing to try to put what is said here into practice.

Since I am a relatively small blog, I wanted to start with a little personal introduction that will segue into the topic at hand. My name is Liz (you can call me Jade too, that’s part of my middle name), and I am a mixed race, “ambiguously brown”, aspec person from Canada. I grew up around mostly other immigrant families, attended predominantly non-white schools that were run by mostly white admins, and completed my degrees at a very white university in a field that does not have much racial diversity. I have experienced racism first-hand many times including, but not limited to, name-calling/slurs, fetishization/exotification, being followed by staff, people second-guessing my name, jokes about hurting/killing people of my race, etc. as well as witnessing racism directed at my friends and peers. I know exactly what it’s like to be exhausted and feel unsafe or othered. There is, however, one thing I need to point out about the multitude of instances of racism I’ve experienced - most of them were caused by ignorance, and not malice. Yes there are absolute assholes out there, but personally I can count those people I’ve encountered on one hand (I am not speaking for everyone, though). The vast majority of racism, bigotry and general harmful acts come from a place of ignorance, particularly on left-leaning tumblr (to clarify, this discussion is centered around well-meaning people and not the actual lost causes). When I say ignorance, I don’t mean a lack of education or intelligence, I mean not being able to see or understand an issue from another person’s perspective. It’s not quite the same as empathy either (where empathy means you are able to feel another person’s emotions), but fighting ignorance does require empathy. It also requires knowledge on the context of the specific situation, and that I believe is the crux of the problem. I think the main reason why this is issue is particularly prevalent in the DA fandom is a result of the too-close-to-reality-to-ignore inspirations that have been confirmed by the devs. Yes, it’s fiction, but there are also a lot of people that see themselves (mis)represented in the themes and characters. And what one person sees as disrespectful, another person may not see at all. This can come full circle, too, for example: one person sees themselves and their trauma represented in a character, another person sees their race misrepresented in the same character. Person 1 uses the character as a comfort character or coping strategy. Person 2 thinks using that character in certain situations is disrespectful. Neither one sees the other’s perspective. This is where intersectionality starts to come into play, and requires empathy and effort to address the intentions and emotions of the other person. Perhaps person 1 is LGBTQ+ and has been traumatized by being as such, and uses Dorian as a character to explore their trauma. Perhaps person 2 is Brown, and racism towards their people is their trigger, and thinks person 1 did not do Brown representation justice in their creative works. Looking at this more specifically, person 1 may have put Dorian in sexual situations. Person 2 feels that the way it was conveyed was fetishist or exotified. Person 2 doesn’t know person 1′s intentions. Person 1 is not aware of certain descriptions that are racist (e.g. using food to describe a PoC’s skin tone). Perhaps person 1 was self-inserting and wanted to feel desirable on their own terms, but this gave person 2 that squick factor. Now person 2 wants to address this issue, and I think this is where a call-in (not a call-out) would be appropriate. Here is a good infographic that compares the two:

(Original source)

Note that there is quite a large difference in the language used. Going back to the above example, person 2 could privately message person 1 asking them why they chose to represent Dorian the way they did, with specific examples, and using call-in language (and I’m going to get back to this in a minute).

The point of this post and infographic isn’t meant to tell marginalized groups how they should be bringing up issues (though it is a good guide if you are concerned about being polite, particularly to a first time offender), it’s intended to demonstrate to people unintentionally participating in harmful behaviour what a call-out vs. call-in looks like. For PoC and other marginalized groups, yes it does take emotional labour to use call-in language and to try to understand someone that wounded you (here is a good read that incorporates the concept of emotional labour for call-ins, and discusses asking yourself if you are ready to do so). For the people who have unintentionally hurt a marginalized individual or group, please understand that someone calling you in is not an attack, it’s a chance to explain why you expressed something the way you did.

That being said, we may have reached another hurdle. What if you call someone in, and the person called in does not want to discuss the fact that they were inserting their personal trauma? I think this is where things start to get a bit messy, but I am of the opinion that if you’ve unintentionally triggered someone else’s trauma through ignorance present in your work, you owe it to them to at the very least mention that you were inserting your trauma, without having to bring up specifics (anyone is allowed to set boundaries). From there, the discussion can be hopefully be opened up to learning from each other, and reaching a consensus. Sometimes that consensus requires the creator to edit or remove their work. As an addendum, if you are a creator that unintentionally hurt someone with your work that didn’t have an ulterior personal motivation, it’s your responsibility to understand why what you did was wrong, apologize, remove the work and do better next time. I know some people cherish their OCs, but you are allowed to change your perspective and make adjustments to your character without erasing them entirely. Now we’ve reached another potential obstacle - what if an offender doesn’t respond to your call-in? First of all, ask yourself, did you actually call them in, or did you attack them? Here is a good opinion piece from a Black professor on this matter. I’d like to clarify that I am not trying to tone police, I am speaking as someone that used to go ham on ignorant people on Facebook and Reddit, and has since changed their tactics and has even gotten through to Trump supporters (some of this stems from my spiritual growth as well, but that is not the point here). There is another issue to address here now as well - what if you have tried, repeatedly, to call someone in and they just don’t change their behaviour? Alright, then it’s probably time to call them out. But again, ask yourself, did you truly try to get through to them? If so, well, at the end of the day, some people are, unfortunately, lost causes. In summary, a call-in is meant to come from a place of wanting to help someone who has seemingly gone astray, because you are worried about their thoughts, feelings, and behaviours towards a marginalized group. You know that if they made a mistake it isn’t them, isn’t their heart, and you want them to be able to understand why what they did hurt others, and give them the chance to correct themselves. It comes from a place of love and acceptance, because you don’t want your friends to harbour negative beliefs. Finally, I want to give a real example of this in action. My cousin is a photographic artist, and was recently called in to discuss the nature of one of her pieces. Her subjects are usually people, and they come from a wide variety of backgrounds. To help support BLM (she does a lot of work to help fight racism in general), she auctioned off one of her pieces. The subject of the piece happened to be a Black woman. She was called in by Black members of her art community to discuss how people bidding on an art piece that featured a person from a marginalized group perpetuated the ogling and monetization of Black people. She gave a response that acknowledged that her piece did perpetuate this issue, because she wanted to raise awareness of this historical harm, and recognized that her intention was ignorant of this perspective. The Black community also acknowledged that the piece itself was not harmful in any way, only that the surrounding issue that they were painfully aware of needed to be brought to light. The auction went ahead, and the piece sold for ~$1000, all of which was donated to BLM. I think as a fandom we should be cognizant of when a work itself is harmful, or when the intention is harmful. Sometimes they overlap, sometimes they don’t. Both are talking points, and we should not be afraid to discuss them, but this requires respect from all parties. We also do need to be able to recognize what is strictly fiction, versus what has real-world impacts. My askbox is always open and my DMs are open to mutuals if you would like anything clarified or expanded upon. Or, if you’d just like to discuss a topic, vent, or have any questions about my own beliefs, you are welcome to reach out. I am happy to discuss anything, as long as there is mutual respect.

#fandom critical #da fandom #da fandom critical #fandom racism #tw: racism #tw: trauma #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #call out culture

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calzona-ga · 4 years ago

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EXCLUSIVE: ABC’s promo for the Season 17 premiere of Grey’s Anatomy teased a “shocking, jaw-dropping ending.” That was an understatement.

In one of the series’ biggest twists ever, a beloved character, Patrick Dempsey’s Derek Shepherd, whose tragic death in an April 2015 episode left fans heartbroken, came back. Appropriately, the late McDreamy appeared in a dream sequence, joining Ellen Pompeo’s Meredith Grey on a beach seconds after Meredith collapsed in the parking lot of Grey Sloan Memorial.

The sweet Meredith-Derek reunion was the joyous coda to an emotional two-hour season premiere of Grey’s Anatomy’s 17th season, dedicated to frontline healthcare workers, which marked the conclusion of a Station 19 crossover. It was marked by tragedy, as Meredith struggled to cope with the mounting COVID deaths at the hospital; anger, as medical personnel were left to fight the disease without enough PPE; hope, as the teenage girl whom DeLuca had unsuccessfully tried to save from human trafficking was reunited with her family; heartbreak, as Owen refused to reconcile with Teddy despite her pleas for forgiveness; and happiness, as Link and Derek’s sister Amelia took their newborn baby boy home. In fact, just minutes after Link announced their son’s name, Scout Derek Shepherd Lincoln, Derek made his appearance. While not necessarily designed as a clue, “it all came together quite beautifully,” Grey’s Anatomy showrunner Krista Vernoff and star Pompeo said.

In an exclusive interview with Deadline, which had known about the big twist, Dempsey, Vernoff and Pompeo reveal how the idea for McDreamy’s return came about, how long he will stick around, how the scene was filmed, and the great lengths to which the show went in order to keep the cameo a secret so fans can fully enjoy it.

Vernoff and Pompeo also address Meredith’s fate following her medical emergency and in the context of Pompeo’s contract coming up at the end of the season, how the real-life coronavirus pandemic changed Grey’s Anatomy on and off the screen, whether will there be COVID casualties among the staff of Grey Sloan, are there plans for a time jump, and is there hope for Teddy and Owen.

Dempsey, who has a cancer foundation, had his own questions for Vernoff and Pompeo about whether advancements in COVID treatments and the issue of wearing masks are reflected on the show.

DEADLINE: Before we talk about Patrick’s return, let’s address the incident that brought on the cameo, Meredith’s collapse, because we usually associate those kind of visions with somebody on the brink of death. Is Meredith OK? Is this just her being overworked, or is it COVID or something else very serious?

VERNOFF: Well, you have to tune in next week. We started the episode with Meredith dreaming of a beach, and at the end of the episode, she’s dreaming of the beach where Derek happens to be, and that’s what we know so far.

DEADLINE: How did the idea to bring Patrick back come about?

VERNOFF: From a writer’s perspective, it happened because it was my job to find a way — once we determined that we were doing the pandemic — to also bring joy, and escape, and fan candy, and all the things that at Grey’s Anatomy we give people. We give them romance, and we give them humor, and we give them joy, and a lot of that is lacking for the medical community in this pandemic. And so, I was walking on the beach one day, and I was like, what if there’s a Meredith dream motif?

There have been studies about how intense our dream life has been. In the pandemic, people are having really intense dreams because of the lockdown. We’re not getting enough stimulation, and so, it’s happening in our dreams. So, it started as that. It started as, how do we give people some escape. I had this imagining of a beach motif throughout the season, and I called Ellen, and I said, what if we bring back, I don’t know, some dead character that you could dream of on the beach, that would be so fun for the fans.

And she said, let’s get Patrick. Even in my most excitable dream life, that thought hadn’t occurred to me as an option, and there it was.

DEADLINE: Ellen, what made you think of Patrick?

POMPEO: Patrick and I both have homes in Malibu, and we went for a hike one day. I had known that Krista wanted to do a beach thing, and I was at the beach. Patrick and I weren’t hiking on the beach, but we were hiking in Malibu, which, you can see the beach.

And the idea just struck me so I just said to him, would you ever consider coming and being a part of the storytelling this season? I know that Patrick has his foundation in Maine where he helps cancer patients and cancer survivors, and that’s a huge effort of his, and I know that it’s important to him, also, to give people hope, and give people joy, and we wanted to bring something to this moment.

There’s just so much darkness, and we knew that coming together would be a little ray of light. And so, I think we had the same idea, at the core, to want to help people and bring a smile to people’s faces. So, he loved the idea, and we were just so excited, and we had a ball filming it.

DEADLINE: Patrick, were you surprised when Ellen asked? What made you say yes?

DEMPSEY: I had a lot of calls from a lot of local government officials in Maine saying, we really need to get the message out there, to get people to socially distance, to wear a mask. I came across a photo that I was going to post that had Ellen and I, and I think that produced a call where I reached out to Ellen, and this was right around, the conversation was starting for Season 17. And Ellen’s like, let’s get together, I want to go over a couple things, I want to catch up.

We hadn’t spoken or been together for a while. It was a great opportunity to catch up and say, OK, what can we do for all the frontline responders? I’ve been tracking what Grey’s had been doing with giving masks, and making sure that people had the right equipment, and it came from that place — OK, what can we do to make people feel better, to give some comfort in this time of uncertainty, and that’s how it began. And it was really a wonderful experience to go back, to work with [director/EP] Debbie [Allen].

I think the whole atmosphere has changed, certainly working at the beach, and seeing everybody again was really a very healing process, and really rewarding, and a lot of fun. And hopefully, that feeling translates, and the fans enjoy it. I know that they’ve been wanting us to get back together, and I think this will satisfy a lot of people, and surprise a lot of people, hopefully.

DEADLINE: Was it easy to go back into character?

DEMPSEY: It was really enjoyable. It was really exciting, and fun, and it was great to see everybody. Kevin [McKidd, who directs Episode 3] was there as well, so there was a lot of familiar faces, a lot of new faces. The dynamic behind the camera had changed. There’s much more diversity within the crew. There was a nice balance, too, of equality that I was seeing. So, culturally, there was a lot of things that were different, that I thought were very positive and very inspiring, actually.

DEADLINE: Ellen, Patrick, did you filmed the beach scene together?

POMPEO: Yes.

DEADLINE: How was it looking at each other, on set, in character, after so many years?

DEMPSEY: Well, I have less eyesight than I used to, so (laughter). It was great. It was really fun, very special. it felt really comfortable, incredibly safe. The whole process, I have to say, from getting tested before even showing up to the set, the whole process in which we shot, I felt safe the whole time. You felt the crew was protected. We had the outdoor space, and it was easy.

POMPEO: It felt great. Patrick and I have this chemistry, where I think, even from when we first met, for some reason it just felt like we’ve known each other for a hundred years, and it’s just the same feeling. It’s like riding a bike, we just have a chemistry and a dynamic that’s always served us well, and I think we have a genuine affection for each other.

And it was very healing to come back, and know that we’re doing something good, putting out a positive story, a healing story, going to make people smile, and I think, for me, I’m really grateful for the opportunity to be able to be at this place in the show where we can do this. We constantly get to rewrite, I don’t want to say the ending, but we get to keep the rewrites going, which, I guess, you writers love, right?

They love to start over, to scrap it and rewrite it, and make it better, and that’s what’s fun about this process this far along, is getting the opportunity to work with Patrick again, and just coming up with ideas, how do we keep surprising the fans, and how do we keep the quality of the show up, is what makes it continue to be fun.

DEADLINE: How long is Patrick going to stick around for?

VERNOFF: It’s more than the one scene you saw, Nellie, and it was just joyful. I really want to echo that. Patrick and Ellen and I were all there at the beginning of this; I wasn’t there for the pilot, but I was there for the first seven seasons, and that was 17 years ago. That was, like, a lifetime ago; my kids weren’t alive. It was so wild to walk out on that beach, and just be together again as these different people that we are now. But I can’t overstate how joyful and healing an experience this was.

DEMPSEY: Yeah, for me as well. It was really special. It’s really hard to believe, 17 years, that’s remarkable. I mean, a lot of us didn’t have children at that point, right? So, our kids have grown up, they’re now in school. It’s crazy how much time has passed, but it really was so comforting, and lovely, and inspiring to go back, and to work together, to see everybody. It really was so open, too, that was the thing, really, people were very, I think, vulnerable in a positive way, where we were all grateful to be there and to be together.

DEADLINE: And you are game to do more episodes?

DEMPSEY: Yeah, it was fun, because I really love the message of what the dynamic is in this story. With everything that we’re dealing with right now, and certainly we have been distracted with the election, but we’re going to get back into the reality of COVID and being in a pandemic, and all the lives that have been lost. Where are these souls going? And I think that’s what attracted me to this storyline, I think it can be really helpful and healing to so many people.

POMPEO: I also think that, in a strange way, the behind the scenes of the show is certainly paralleling what we need, with the stories that we put out. What do we love about the show? We love that the show brings people together. We love that the show hopefully opens people’s minds, it opens people’s hearts, and I think that, in the running of the show and the making of the show, if we follow those same principles, if we follow the principles of love first, of acceptance, of open mind, open heart, forgiveness, all of it is, that’s the message of Grey’s.

And for us to be able to mirror that behind the scenes, and truly walk our walk and talk our talk with each other, those who created the show, I think, is a really amazing full-circle sort of story for a TV show that’s gone on this long.

DEADLINE: How hard was it to keep Patrick’s return a secret?

VERNOFF: I have to say that it was an epic feat, the keeping of this secret. I didn’t send cuts to the studio and network that included that last scene. I didn’t have writers’ assistants in the writers’ room for the last couple of months. There were writers who didn’t know we were doing this on that staff. Most of the actors didn’t know we were doing this. The crew didn’t know we were doing this when they showed up on the day.

I put the name “Ellis Grey” in the script that we read at the table, and I had Meredith say “Mom” at the table, so we got there on the day, and no one had been told what was happening. So, also watching the crew react, and [producer] Linda Klein, who’s been there from the beginning, we got Norman back, who was our amazing hair guy from the beginning [Norman T. Leavitt was makeup department head on ABC’s Grey’s Anatomy for the first 14 seasons]. I was like a crazy person with this secret. And Ellen and I were texting at all hours of the night, like, who knows, I think this person.

POMPEO: Absolutely.

DEADLINE: Will we see Ellis on the show this season?

VERNOFF: I don’t know. I don’t know. You have to tune in and see who comes to the beach. It’ll be a joyful discovery.

DEADLINE: Ellen, your character is dealing with a lot of tragic COVID deaths in the premiere. For you and Krista, will we see some tragedy within the ranks of the Grey Sloan staff too? A lot of medical professionals have lost their lives to COVID in real life.

POMPEO: I think we have a responsibility to really show what these healthcare workers have been going through. It’s so easy for a big part of the population to just be irritated with wearing a mask, and they’re sort of disconnected from what real doctors and nurses and anyone who works in a hospital are actually dealing with.

I don’t want to speak for Krista, but I think for me, certainly, I saw this as an opportunity to tell the story of how hard this is for our healthcare workers; it’s devastating for them. I think Krista will tell you that they’ve sat down with so many doctors and nurses, and they hear the stories, and they’re writing right from these stories that they’re hearing. And this has been devastating, and changed the medical community forever.

So we have to show, that’s our responsibility, to show what a struggle this is for healthcare workers, and continues to be as we see [COVID] numbers spiking again. We have to try to spread some empathy, and show people that this is very real, and it’s really hard, and the next time you want to complain about wearing a mask, think about what these people have to do. They have to wear a mask, they have to wear full PPE, full cappers. They literally have to do 50 things just to be able to perform their job.

DEADLINE: Krista?

VERNOFF: I have to say that I feel like Ellen did an extraordinary job in that premiere, paying respect to healthcare workers with her performance. The thing that she did is exactly what I’ve been talking about so much, which is that these doctors and nurses who come to the writers’ room every year. They are joyful and excited, and they’re always there to tell us these exciting stories. And this year, it felt like, it was the first time they were talking to anybody.

It was the first break they were taking. It was the first time anyone was asking them what they were living through, and to a person, it felt like they were on the verge of breaking. They were different people, and I felt like Ellen so beautifully embodied it throughout this episode, the change, what this pandemic is doing to people who were trained to help and heal, but not trained to walk through war, and not trained to lose dozens of patients, sometimes in a day.

It’s breaking them, and I feel like we’re already showing the strain and the impact, and yes, there will be more of that, and somehow, we’re also bringing joy. We’ve been carefully threading this needle, of paying honor and homage, and telling the truth of this story, while finding ways to also bring joy to the audience, and I’m really excited about Season 17.

DEADLINE: You’re not going to hint whether anyone on the show is in jeopardy, are you?

VERNOFF: Well, for sure, Nellie, for sure people are in jeopardy. Meredith collapses at the end of the premiere. People are in jeopardy, and multiple people are in jeopardy throughout the season, in myriad ways, because that’s the moment we’re living through.

DEADLINE: Ellen, should we read more into Meredith’s collapse in light of you figuring out your future on the show? You have said that you’re not sure what you’re going to do beyond this season.

POMPEO: You can’t read into anything. Really, that’s dangerous territory. I think that, collectively, we, or creatively, it’s the same this year as it always is. Is there a reason to continue? What stories do we have to tell? What characters do we have to bring back that gives us story to tell? I said in another interview last week, we’re always in this incredibly sweet spot with this show, for whatever reason.

We always have incredible circumstances that allow us to continue creatively, whether it’s ideas, or circumstances that happen. Our goal is just to make good TV. I think we’re all aware of the icon status of the show, we’re so aware of that, and I think that that’s why Patrick was so humble and so grateful to be able to come back, because we are very grateful that we have this huge platform. And I don’t think any of us take the platform that we have lightly.

And so, at this point, I think, we don’t know what we’re going to do. We know that we’re grateful, and we know that we want to show our gratitude, and grateful to each other making the show, that we’re able to keep continuing to grow, and to tell stories that we think are important, and getting this moment. Listen, who gets career runs like this? Patrick Dempsey’s been working since he’s … I know he’s been working off-camera even earlier, but I mean, when was your first role, Patrick, when you were 16 or 17?

DEMPSEY: Sixteen, 17, so 30 years.

POMPEO: Who gets a run like that? So, I just think that we’re incredibly grateful to be able to still be here, and be telling these stories that we feel are important, and we’ll see. Creatively, this is our heavy-lifting, to keep raising the bar for ourselves, but we’ve got something great, which is we’ve got gratitude, and we’re all smart, creative people. So, if there’s a way to figure it out, we certainly will.

DEMPSEY: The range of emotions, where you’re getting a chance to cry, but you’re also getting a chance to laugh, I think that’s a huge success in the storytelling. The whole ride has been remarkable on so many levels, being a part of this show for so many years, and it’s profoundly changed my life in so many ways. I’m very grateful for that, and hopefully to use that platform in a positive way, where you’re doing something good. And I’m grateful to be a part of this show at this particular moment in time.

DEADLINE: The premiere is set in April 2020. Krista, will the show fast forward to now?

VERNOFF: We’re not fast forwarding. We’re playing it through. So, by the time it’s airing, most of what we’re doing is almost a year ago, in the timeline. And there’s more joy.

DEMPSEY: Do you get into how the disease is treated over time as well? Do you get into how the science — and I think this is an important thing for us to remember and to really believe in the science, in the breakthroughs that they’re making on a daily basis. How do you track that, and has that been part of your conversation?

VERNOFF: It is. It’s a constant part of the conversation, and we have three doctors on staff now who come into the writers’ room most of the time, and we have a lot of conversations of even the evolution, what you see in terms of the protective gear that they’re wearing in the premiere versus the evolution of the protective gear, when are they treating with ventilators and when are they not. There were drug studies and drug trials, and we’re doing our best to be honest about that progress, and also the evolution in the hospitals.

Grey Sloan in the premiere has a special COVID ward, and these intake tents, and then, throughout the course of the season, other spaces evolve to hold COVID patients, and we’re hearing news about other hospitals. Washington was hit really hard early on. So, we’re trying to play through all of that.

DEMPSEY: Sorry, follow-up question, if I may. Do you get into the politics of the mask, and how that affects in a negative or a positive way? Do you go down that road at all?

VERNOFF: We try to stay away from overt politics, and the politicizing of the mask is a real thing that happened. So, we’re not talking about politicians. We just don’t do that at Grey’s Anatomy, partly because we want the show to be for everybody, and we don’t want it to become so polarizing, where it feels like we’re preaching from some particular pulpit. We’re just sticking with the science, and the reaction of doctors to the idea that people are not understanding and/or not believing that masks are imperative to protect other people and themselves.

So, we’re playing it through character, is the answer, like what an outrage it is for these doctors, who spend their lives and their all-day, every-day, trying to save people, to see human beings out there choosing not to protect their fellow human beings, because they’re not believing in science, and they’re not believing scientists.

DEADLINE: How is filming going? Grey’s was one of the first shows to shut down production early in the pandemic to protect the cast and crew. How is it now, with the new COVID wave? I write stories about shutdowns virtually every day.

VERNOFF: I mean, knocking wood, so far.

POMPEO: Good so far, yeah. We’re good. Of course, anything can happen at any moment, but I think that collectively, everybody’s really careful. And again, we’re trying to be mindful of one another, and we’re trying to be mindful of how we live our lives when we’re not at work, because that’s the smart thing to do, and we have to come to work and keep everybody safe. Nobody wants to get shut down.

VERNOFF: We’re really careful in our creating of the show, also, to help the actors feel safe. We shut down before other shows, we also came back to production before a lot of other shows, thanks to truly the leadership of Debbie Allen. There was some leadership from me, but for sure, it was guided by Debbie Allen going, if we don’t come back, we’re never going to come back, come on, Krista, we’re coming back. Set a date, set a date, set a date, where’s the scripts? Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.

She kept saying, if you put a date on the calendar, we’re going to work toward it, and we’re going to figure out how to do it safely, and we really did figure out how to do it safely. We were lucky that we’re set in a hospital, so that our actors, when they’re working together tightly, can be in masks. But it was also my job, and the job of the writers, to come up with plans and motifs that allowed the audience to see the actors’ faces, and the actors to feel safe in that.

So, you didn’t just see a beach motif, which is a continuing motif through the season, and it was designed, that particular motif, so that Ellen could come to work without a mask and feel safe, because she’s outside; the epidemiologists have been clear about how much safer outside is. But you also saw, for the first time in 17 seasons, Meredith’s house back yard. We built a backyard set on the exterior of the lot, outside the writers’ bungalow, so that those actors could give us some no-mask time, and feel safe in the beginning.

And more and more, we’re understanding how to keep everyone safe indoors, so we’re getting a little bit more without masks indoors, but at the beginning, we had to really be creative, in terms of how are we doing this, how are we keeping ourselves safe, how are we helping them feel safe, and how are we giving the fans a show that’s joyful in addition to true.

DEADLINE: And one final question: is there any hope for Teddy and Owen?

VERNOFF: Teddy is doing good. They’ve got a long haul, Nellie. If there’s hope for them, it’s in the ethers, but you know, I didn’t have a lot of hope that Patrick Dempsey was going to be back on Grey’s Anatomy last year, and look where we are. So…

#grey's anatomy #Ellen Pompeo #Patrick Dempsey #news #spoiler #deadline #krista vernoff #season 17 #17x01 #17x02

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whumpcollector · 3 years ago

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Project CHIMERA Pt.1: A New Age

Hey everyone. I’ve had this little project stewing for a long while. I’m experimenting with the writing style and such so please give me any feedback you have! (Also formatting this thing has been a nightmare so if anything comes off as difficult to read please lmk and ill fix it)

TW: Dehumanization. Themes of imperialism. Descriptions of blood and injury.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Dr. Yarru’s Personal Log

Entry 1

Date: Celendor 3, 991

It is a glorious day. Truly it is. Today marks the beginning of project CHIMERA. I have been assigned to lead this project by Emperor Vystlat himself, an honor I intend to prove myself worthy of. The equipment is still being set up and the facility brought to full function, but within the week we will be able to begin the production of the first batch of clones. All going well we will have our first subjects by the end of Celendor.This will be a new age for the empire.

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Dr. Yarru’s Personal Log

Entry 4

Date: Celendor 12, 991

The first batch of clones are growing better than anticipated. Within two days they have already passed the embryonic stages and have reached infancy. If this rate continues they will be juveniles within three days at most, and we will be able to begin the initial stages of CHIMERA ahead of schedule. This is better than I ever could have hoped for. Soon the need for the empire’s children to die in order to spread our prosperity will be gone. Soon, the glory of the empire will go uncontested.

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---Security Clearance Level: 5---

Official Report of Progress: Project CHIMERA

Date: Celendor 12, 991

My glorious Emperor Vystalt,I am more than pleased to report that project CHIMERA’s progress has been greater than I ever anticipated. The first batch of clones have reached the juvenile stage and are being awoken as I write this report. After a day of acclimation we will be able to begin their training. Initial physiological tests have revealed that cell growth rates and immune system responses are greatly enhanced compared to the average human’s. With further research we may be able to adapt these properties to other medical fields. While I do not wish to get ahead of myself, the prospective avenues of research are truly promising.

I shall personally inform you of any and all major developments.

May our glory shine upon the world,

-Dr.Archimedes Yarru

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Dr. Yarru’s Personal Log

Entry 6

Date: Celendor 13, 991

It appears that our genetic manipulation has worked a bit...too well. These clones are not the blank slates that we had anticipated, but have managed to develop personalities during their time in incubation. The good news is that the information we imprinted them with during the incubation phase has stuck as well. We won’t need to teach them the basics. In theory their training can continue as normal, but some issues have reared their ugly heads. We are already receiving resistance to the idea of training from some of the subjects, and an alarming amount of them have developed dispositions that aren’t exactly compatible with being a soldier. Still, this is a minor setback at most and I have been assured by the training staff that things will progress as intended. I hope they know what they’re doing, but the emperor chose them personally so they must be good at their job.

Despite this hiccup I can’t help but be hopeful for the future. Every other aspect of CHIMERA has gone off without a hitch. I’m already seeing promising results from my initial tests of the clone’s blood and muscle cells. I will have to study them closer to get better results, but that will come in time.

Damn it's been 22 hours since I last slept. I should probably do that now.

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Celendor-15-991

To: allstaff

Subject: Plans going forward and clarification of CHIMERA details

It has come to my attention that there has been some confusion throughout the staff, both due to the unforeseen personalities of the clones and with general project protocol. Allow me to rectify these issues here.

[1] The classification of all subjects are as follows. Please remember this to avoid any failures of communication in the future.

Stage gamma: Subjects in the initial stages of testing. They will physically resemble adolescents, generally ages 12-15.

Stage beta: Subjects that are through initial training stages and have been curated into specified roles to receive specialized training. They will also reach physical maturity, resembling 20-22 year olds before their biological development and aging slows.

Stage alpha: Subjects that have finished training and are capable of being sent into the field.

Note: The ages attached to each stage are to provide a reference point to help identify subjects at a glance. Subject’s early rapid aging and the subsequent cessation of said aging makes any attempts at estimating age past a certain point futile. Please refrain from doing so

Addendum: This also means that there will be no attempts at assigning or recognizing birthdays. Yes Arthur, we mean you. Sate your addiction to cake on your own time

[2] Despite the unintended development of personality within subjects all current training protocols and methods will be utilized. The head of the training staff has asked that I pass along this message

*[While I understand that these new developments may be difficult to handle for some of you, it is imperative to remember that these clones are not people. They are more akin to automatons or even puppets. There will likely be many attempts to resist our training, do not waver. These clones are meant to be the bulwark of the empire. They need to be forged and tempered into weapons of war. If that requires us to break them first we must accept that. Use a heavy hand, accept not disobedience, and do whatever it takes to ensure the compliance of the clones.

Taskmaster Grestin]

[3] Remember that project CHIMERA is still in experimental phases. The genetic makeup, physiology, and even mental development and reception to training will vary from batch to batch and even subject to subject. Adapting to such differences will be crucial to ensuring progress of the project. If you happen to notice any abnormal physiological phenomena or behavioral anomalies please report to me. While these subjects are meant to be made into soldiers for the empire they also provide a plethora of opportunities for other fields of research. Within that vein, please refrain from killing the subjects. I understand that taskmaster Grestin’s previous statement emphasizes the importance of discipline but please, do show some restraint when possible. Creating these subjects is currently an expensive and, quite frankly, unreliable process despite our initial success. There is a reason this first batch only consists of 10 subjects. Please do not lower that number.

-Dr. Archimedes Yarru

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Dr. Yarru’s Personal Log

Entry 9

Date: Celendor 19, 991

Well Grestin has definitely earned the title taskmaster. I get that any training intended to produce super soldiers is going to be intense but, damn. I’m almost worried that she’ll kill the subjects long before they get into stage beta. Hopefully I’m just being overly anxious. I trust that Grestin won’t push them too harshly too quickly.

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Medical Report: Subject Gamma-A-8

Date of Admission: Celendor-20-991

Subject Gamma-A-8 was submitted to the facility infirmary at 8:26 AM on the 20th of month Celendor, year 991 by staff member Jules Armidin. Subject Gamma-A-8 was admitted due to severe injury and physical exhaustion. A complete list of afflictions has been attached to the report.

After initial treatments Subject Gamma-A-8 has been stabilized and is currently recovering. It is estimated the subject will be fully recovered within 10-14 days with no long term injuries or afflictions.

Attached - Trauma_Report_GAMMMAA8

[ Subject Gamma-A-8

Muscle tearing located in the left and right biceps, triceps, and pectorals

Hairline fractures located in the left ulna, left and right radius, and sternum

Compound fracture located at the tibia

Eye spasms indicative of long term sleep deprivation Mild concussion

General bruising located across the arms, legs, and abdomen

Lacerations across the back ]

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Dr. Yarru’s Personal Log

Entry 10

Date: Celendor 20, 991

At least the subject didn’t die. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dr Yarru’s Personal Log.

Entry 11

Date: Celendor 21, 991

Well if anything at least I have been able to study how the subject’s body responds to physiological trauma. The results are nothing short of remarkable. Almost all of the major injuries have been healed to the point of not impairing the body's functions, including bone fractures. I was as shocked as the doctors when a compound fracture seemingly mended itself overnight. It hasn’t fully healed, but the subject is capable of moving the leg to a degree, which is still nothing short of amazing. Accelerated Healing was something that was coded into their base genetics but this is more than what we could have ever expected.

I wonder if this trait is shared by all subjects or if Gamma-A-8 is a special case. Perhaps Grestin’s methods will prove fruitful in more ways than one.

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Dr Yarru’s Personal Log

Entry 14

Date: Celendor 28, 991

It has been less than one month since the beginning of project CHIMERA and the results are already beyond my wildest dreams. Despite my initial reservations almost every subject has taken to the training regimen, no doubt due to Grestin’s expertise.

Note to self: Don’t piss her off

Subject Gamma-A-8 has had a difficult time keeping up with the other subjects. Despite the subject’s remarkable natural healing it seems unable to match the raw strength and speed the other subjects possess. I am hopeful that it will be able to catch up, or at least be able to function adequately in whatever role it is assigned. If not, well, 90% success rate is still more than acceptable given the circumstances.

I feel as if I have gathered as much data as I can working on the peripheries. Blood samples and medical reports are all well and good but they can only get me so far. I haven’t had a chance to interact with any of the subjects thus far. I think it's about time that I change that.

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Tags: @haro-whumps @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

#whump #sci fi whump #dehumanization #Dr. Yarru

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himbeaux-on-ice · 4 years ago

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Can I just say that Habs “fans” who act like Carey Price’s contract is somehow patient zero of all this team’s problems drive me absolutely fucking insane? Seriously. Buckle up. This is about to be a rant.

Now. First things first. Is it ideal that the $10 million goalie is currently uh, not doing very good? Fucking NO! I am disappointed as shit with that and I don’t like seeing him struggle. I know he can be better. He has to be better. Obviously.

However. That being said.

Do I think it’s an incredibly stupid look to spend several tweets complaining about all the issues Habs defence have been having, and then also griping that they haven’t started Jake Allen enough for how he’s performing, only to then for some inexplicable reason state that the FIRST THING, the first thing that needs to be dealt with after the new coaching staff have had ONE GAME (and zero practices) to work on things, is somehow “well, the ten million dollar man in net is weighing them down, that contract has gotta go!”?

Yes! That’s stupid!!

I think that’s a very ice cold small-brain take, and not just because Price is my favourite of favourites for as long as I’ve been a hockey fan! I have reasons, dammit!! I put THOUGHT into this!!

Here, dear ppl of Habs twitter who will never read this, are some reasons why this narrative you’re concocting is dumb, and why management/coaching are unlikely to think of trying to ditch Price mid-season to fix the current problems:

1: Time. It has been one (1) game under Ducharme. He has been able to run zero (0) full practices on off days with the team. We just changed up a major piece on the Habs chess board — why don’t you give it a minute to see what fresh eyes and minds can do with this roster before you decide we are fucked? This season is fast-moving, sure, but there is time for us to ride out some little bumps here and still make a playoff spot in this Canadian division. Have patience. Do you remember what patience is? Dom is a new head coach, not a wish-granting fairy godmother. Chill. Do you remember chill?

(rest of this under a cut because I actually LIKE Habs Tumblr, and I want to be nice to you all by not making you scroll past all of it if you don’t want to)

2: Jake Allen exists. There are a couple of things I like for what this means for the Habs. Firstly, for basically the first time in his NHL career, we are not in a situation where if Carey Price is in a slump, we have to go “Ah, shit, so now our options are let his stats tank while he tries to get the groove back in net, OR throw whoever the poor backup is out there to get murdered while we plummet through the standings.... 😬” We don’t have that problem right now, because the backup is... actually good? Oh my god, the backup is actually good! Thank fuck! We’re not doomed. If I’m Ducharme, I put Allen in net for a few consecutive starts to put a solid backstop behind all my fun experiments I’m probably planning with the skating roster (to catch their slip-ups, while also giving Carey lots of time and rest with which to work hard on sorting out whatever his issue is along with the goalie coaches).

2b: Jake Allen exists and is competition. Hell, if I’m Ducharme, maybe I even play a little hardball and say “Look, Carey, I don’t want you to be an expensive benchwarmer, but if things don’t pick up soon I am going to start whoever is doing best and you will have to compete for that net.” Related to my last point, when was the last time Carey Price had to push himself to compete for net time against anything other than his own injuries, and wasn’t simply always the default starter? Has that EVER been a thing? Honestly as much as I love the idea of him being The Goalie for the Habs, I also kinda like this idea a lot because I think it could really push him to a higher standard of performance. Maybe that kind of high-pressure situation (given how much he thrives in the pressure-cooker of the playoffs) could be what he NEEDS in order to Be Carey Price again. Worst comes to worst, he doesn’t respond to that challenge, and I am very sad but the Habs have a good goalie in net anyway, because Hallelujah, Jake Allen exists! God, isn’t it nice to have Jake Allen? Bless him.

3: Money. Guys, this league is so broke right now. Seriously. Seriously. Nobody has any fucking money. The Habs probably have more money than most teams, and that does not help when it comes to offloading large contracts. Trades are a NIGHTMARE both because of the flat cap but also because travel is complicated (especially cross-border) but also nobody wants to trade within their division if possible because all your games are against them. Who in the name of fuck do you think is jumping at the idea of taking the $10 million per through 20-lots-and-lots-of-years-from-now contract of a goalie who is currently struggling, impressive past record aside? What kind of astral plane of fantasy hockey are you on to think there’s a trade out there for that within this season. Shut up. And no, don’t bring up the expansion draft, this post is a rebuttal SPECIFICALLY to the people who think that Price and his contract are the biggest problem that needs to be dealt with RIGHT NOW and first on the list of ways to immediately remedy the team’s struggles.

4: Spite. Specifically to piss you off, bud. You personally.

5: Knowing how to troubleshoot properly. Fellas, if my computer is running slowly and freezing up a lot, do I immediately decide the first step to fixing it is to crack open the chassis, remove the hard drive, and try to sell that hard drive to someone to see if I can enough money back to somehow get a better hard drive for less? No, dipshit. That’s not how troubleshooting a complex system works works. It’s the same with hockey teams. Ah, my star goalie is not performing great. This situation is deeply less than ideal. If you’re actually good at troubleshooting, the first thing you do is not “WELL. I GUESS WE’LL HAVE TO THROW THE WHOLE GOALIE OUT. HE’S TOAST.” The first thing you do, if you’re a smart coach, is you say “Okay, what are my defence doing in front of him? What are they doing to reduce the amount and quality of our opponents’ scoring chances? Oh. Oh, they’re taking a lot of penalties, and... oh, uh, some of this is very not great. Yikes.” And then you start your work by trying to make the defence actually work instead of running the same Pairs That Everyone Is Very Much Over And Tired Of, because your goalie is actually supposed to be your Last Line of Defence. And maybe during that time you give more starts to Goalie Who Is Absolutely Slaying It, so that when you start trying new D-pairs and they inevitably have some mistakes, it doesn’t immediately turn into an Oh God Holy Fuck moment every time, because that last line of defence backstopping them is solid. The reason you need to deal with defense first is because a) You know you have a reliable goalie (Allen) in your pocket right now if you need him. What you don’t have is a whole-ass proven and tested and practiced Backup D-Core you can swap into the roster in front of your goalies to make their lives easier. Fix your defense and it WILL improve your goalies, even marginally. Defrag the hard drive before you ask why it’s not working. and b) If you need to go looking for any new D-men to solve the issues, those are WAY easier and cheaper to find than top-tier goalies, and you always want to start any troubleshooting process with trying the simplest solutions first to hopefully save time and money. The better that D-core is, the less it fucks your team over if the goalie isn’t feeling themselves, because the D is going to stop more of those pucks before they ever even become the goalie’s problem. FIX. DEFENCE. FIRST. Then try to train your goalie back into top form. THEN explore your other options.

6: The vicious cycle. Guys. We literally do this once every year or second year. EVERY time Carey Price has a slump, this fanbase gets into a tizzy like the Bell Centre is burning down and he was the one with the matches. And what ALWAYS happens literally within the year, every single time? He gets his mojo back like he did last summer in the bubble and goes on a heater and everybody goes “JESUS PRICE!!!! 🙌” and is ready to name their firstborn kid after him. Until eventually that performance becomes unsustainable, and he becomes mortal again, and suddenly he’s The Real Problem With This Franchise once again. I know he’s the guy they chose to build the team around instead of a superstar forward, but oh my god folks. You’d think he was the only player on the team. Guys, I feel like fucking Sisyphus pushing a blue blanc et rouge boulder up Mont Royal once a year with this shit. This man’s entire career has been a constant seesaw narrative between “Carey Price is our saviour!” and “Carey Price should be exiled to Nome!!!!” from parts of this fanbase, I swear. Look, slumps suck, but for once we are actually lucky enough to be in a position where this team, for the first time in YEARS, does not solelylive or die by the inscrutable magical cycles of Carey Price’s goalie powers — because when he has to step back and work to get back into his groove, there is FINALLY a SECOND GUY who is GREAT. Honestly, given that the state of this team for so long has been “they will go as far as Carey Price can take them” and he has put in a pretty fucking decent job of it despite all of the team’s other struggles, I feel like it is owed it to the guy to be like “Okay, well, we have somebody else solid to fill the net right now, and a chance to really figure out our defence and special teams with this new coach. Why don’t you take a step back and work your ass off at trying to get back into the form I know you can still perform at, and we’ll go from there?”

Anyway. Some parts of this fanbase have been waiting for a fresh excuse to claim Price is overrated, washed-up, and to blame for all of this team’s flaws and ills ever since he signed that contract, if not since the start of his NHL career. Just unreal how nasty some of this fanbase is willing to be about a player who is ON. YOUR. TEAM.

Am I saying he is beyond critique of his play and can do no wrong and his contract is perfect? No! I want this team to have the best goaltending it can get, and I want them to kick ass and take names. The difference is, I still believe Carey Price is a part of that winning formula, and I also think Twitter is overflowing with idiots who just repeat what everybody else says. He’s still a better goalie than your ass would be if I stuck you out there to stop shots from Mark Schieffle, for crap’s sake.

“The first thing that has to go is Carey Price’s contract 🤪”. Shut the fuck up. You are actively making other people stupider by talking. Go eat sand. Good day.

#It’s Time For My Opinion #I put so much time into this I hope it’s coherent lol #habs #Carey price #montreal canadiens #long post

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47pictures · 3 years ago

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“Abysmal”

Link to original r/nosleep post:

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/o4mdi8/my_husband_and_i_checked_into_a_new_underwater/

______________________________________________________________

My husband and I are the first guests to check into a new underwater suite with a full glass display. Yet, all of the fish are missing… but I don’t think we’re alone down here, either.

“No peeking still,” my husband nagged, his hands still over my eyes as he guided me.

“How can I peek with your hands literally over my face,” I remarked. He chuckled.

After what felt like forever with him making sure I didn’t bump into anything up to the mystery destination, my husband Jackson assured me that we were finally there. Thank the Lord…

“Alright, open up!” he said as he unveiled his hands from my face.

Now that we were here, I felt the rush of excitement again, and a shy yet exuberant grin grew over my face as I slowly opened my eyes. Once they opened, however, they widened tenfold at the sight before me.

“Whoa,” I exclaimed.

Jackson chuckled. “Soooo, did I pick out a good birthday gift or what?” he teased.

It was truly a sight to behold. An underwater luxury hotel suite, with all the delicacies and comfort a guest could dream of, encased entirely in an underwater tank with a view to die for at nearly every angle. Undoubtedly, it was a great birthday gift.

“Baby, this is amazing,” I spoke. I turned to look at him. “I-I was just kinda joking when I said bring me the ocean if you could, you know?”

He and the usher who led us to the room with our luggage exchanged laughs.

“You should know by now I take almost everything you say literally,” Jackson said as he stepped my way, towering over me by merely two inches.

“Mmm-hmm,” I uttered through my smile, and we both leaned in for a kiss.

The usher awkwardly rolled our luggage over to the king-sized bed (really, it looked even bigger than king-sized) and neatly set them to the side.

“Happy birthday,” Jackson said.

“Thanks, Babe,” I replied, as we both went in for another kiss. Poor usher, I thought. I know it must’ve been awkward for him right about now.

“Um, sorry to break the moment,” the gentleman timidly noted, “But if you two would like, the kitchen staff has prepared a lovely four-course lunch, which should be about ready in the next 30 to 40 minutes?”

“Oh,” I uttered.

“Nice,” Jackson followed. “What do you think?” he asked me.

I gave him a crazy look. “Shit yeah,” I replied under my breath, but quite loudly. I noticed the usher, “Oops, I mean-”, clearing my throat, “Yes, my husband and I would love to attend,” changing my whole demeanor.

Me and him both chuckled like idiot children. That’s simply how we were together. Like children. Though, when it was time to be adults, I was usually the parent in the relationship. He was a messy eater, I used proper dining etiquette. He needed a haircut, I did it for him. He got bruised up or injured doing god knows what, I fixed him up. He wants to travel to a random city over the weekend, I do all the planning (except this time, to my surprise).

Jackson was smart - very smart… but dumb at the same time. He was like a golden retriever. Had lots of energy and charisma, always the center of everyone else’s attention, yet, he couldn’t hold his own to save his life. Very all over the place. In a way, however, that’s what I find attractive about him. His zest for life and a childlike curiosity outlasting his years. I liked to have my fun as well, don’t get me wrong. But I was more Virgo-like in my ways, even though I’m a Pisces myself.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lunch was held in the hotel’s center aquarium, giving us a full view of the ocean around us. Glass surrounded us with a bright blue luminescence as the sun reflected light through the large sea.

We were presented with a lovely four-course meal of seafood selections. Both of us got the seafood chowder as a starter. I got spicy Caribbean shrimp and he got oysters for appetizers. For the entrees, I got a nice big baked salmon, and Jackson got a huge lobster tail with a side of melted butter and mashed potatoes. It was all delicious, needless to say, and to top it all off, we had carb-packed tall slices of strawberry cheesecake. I could barely get up from the table after we were done.

After congratulating the head chef for such a fine meal, Jackson shot the question.

“Where are all the fish?” he asked.

It was one of those things I didn’t even think to ask, yet it was so obvious. Where were the fish? I didn’t know we were coming here until just a while ago. Had I not seen any pictures from the brochures in our room, I’d think this place didn’t have any fish at all. It was a good question.

“Ah, the fish,” the chef said. “They’re usually out most of the day and usually at night, they’ll obviously be harder to see and go elsewhere. But today must be one of those days where they’ll just… sorta hide.”

“Hide?” I remarked.

“Yes,” the chef replied. “Mostly from predators, if they’re around. But that’s strange, there usually aren’t any around. There’s the sharks, but even still, nothing that’s a serious threat to make the others leave.”

“There’s sharks here?” Jackson asked in a tone that I couldn’t tell was either amazed or afraid.

“Oh yes, a couple of them will show up from time to time. No great whites, or hammerheads, or anything crazy of the sort, but yes, there are a few.”

“Hmm,” Jackson uttered.

“Well, hopefully they turn up soon,” I added. “We gotta get some pictures, right Babe?”

I nudged Jackson at his side, to which he didn’t noticeably return much of a reaction.

“Mm-hmm,” he noised passively.

Maybe he was starting to get a food coma, too, and needed to lay down. I know I did. We’d gotten back to the room and done exactly that.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After a pleasant nap, I woke up to the magical view of the suite being illuminated with hidden LED lights outlining the bed, walls, and other pieces of large furniture. The room held a bright gold luminescence along with the now dark blue to almost pitch black abyss of the ocean. I wonder if that was something that could be turned off or it just stayed like that. Either way, I wasn’t complaining one bit.

Jackson woke up not too long after, and I barely saw him shuffle over to the bathroom in a hurry, as I was on my phone with my back turned. Was he sick?

“You all right, Babe?” I called to him.

“Yeah,” Jackson replied. “Had to piss.”

Oh, well that made sense. With that, I turned on camera mode for my phone, and began snapping random pictures, and was getting ready to do a panorama view. I had the lens set at one side of the room, starting at the edge of the first wide window, then began to drag across the room. I made it past the first window, then past the walls and door to the bathroom occupied by Jackson, then to the other side window, and was about to come around to the end of the last huge display behind me, until I noticed something through the lens.

I lowered my phone to get a look with my own eyes and saw that there was an enormous shadow of space outside the glass. It could’ve been the lack of sunlight reflecting down on that particular spot, but then I thought, was it really that dark already? It was only a half ‘til six, so it made sense for the water to be dark, but not that dark. The thing was, it stood out from the rest of the area like a sore thumb. You could still tell apart the ocean floor from other sections of the room, as well as the tiny rocks at the bottom. But over in this particular spot, it was near-total blackness. An abnormally large disquieting contrast in the area around it.

Maybe it was just a large rock structure. Like a fjord, maybe? No, those are like mountains or something, I think.

Then I heard the toilet flush. I waited for Jackson to come back out, but a couple of moments kept passing longer than expected. I was getting suspicious again.

“You sure you’re okay?” I called again.

“Yeah,” he answered.

It would make sense if he got sick from the food, perhaps. It was seafood, after all, and that among other recipes could have a tendency to make anyone’s stomach queasy if not properly prepared. But I didn’t have any issues so far. We ate nearly the same thing, as we picked from each other’s plates all the time.

I went ahead and gave him another minute, but as more time kept passing and I didn’t hear from him, I decided that was it.

“Hey, I gotta piss, too,” I announced, as I got up and started approaching the door.

No response. Then, a few seconds later, “Okay,” I heard him respond. Weird, I thought.

I slowly turned the knob and opened the door slowly, as not to budge right in. To my confusion, he wasn’t in the bathroom anymore at all. Huh?

“Jackson?” I called for him.

I looked across and saw that there was another door leading to a different room, or closet maybe? It was cracked open.

I went over and swung open the door to find a nice tidy compartmentalized space, the only room that wasn’t encased in glass, with Jackson loafing around. It had a nice window seat cushion that extended along the side of the walls of the entire room, and a circular window that simply showed the outside view of the ocean, which was also nearly pitch black as the shadow that cast over near the bedside window I’d a moment ago. Perhaps I was right. It was just large boulders or rocky structures blocking the light on those specific sides of the glass.

“You know this wouldn’t be a bad room to crash in,” he said, as he kept aimlessly searching around for something.

“I guess not?” I awkwardly replied.

“Could be a good place to do… other things, too, yeah?”

“It’s kind of a tight space, don’t you think?”

“We’ve managed with worse.”

“You know, there is a whole bed back there,” I said, pointing my finger to the door.

“Yeah…” Then his mind trailed off elsewhere before he looked at me again. “I’m done in the bathroom. You said you needed to go, right?”

I gave him a certain look. “I lied,” I answered. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he responded, but I knew when he was playing clueless.

“You’ve been acting kinda strange since lunch.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, we both know you’re strange as it is, but… earlier you seemed sort of all right, but now since the sun is starting to come down, I don’t even know.”

“True,” he said, still not actually paying attention as he was still searching around the room.

I was getting a little fed up. “What are you looking for?” I asked.

“Something to cover this window with,” he said. “Can we get seasick from this? You know, with us being underwater and everything?”

“… Maybe?”

“There’s nothing but towels and a bunch of useless crap in here - are there any like really big pillows out there in the bedroom?”

My gosh, he was acting strange. The obvious question came next.

“Why do you need to cover the window?” I asked.

“Because… I don’t want anyone spying on us,” he answered.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re underwater.”

“I noticed.”

“Who’s gonna spy on us? The fish? There aren’t any.”

“You don’t know, there might be people with submarines or something down here trying to capture a couple of lovebird guests having a good ole time down here to sell on the internet or who-knows-what.”

“Okay, one, I’m not fucking you in this room, and two, what is going on with you? You’re just acting so weird. What’s wrong?”

He looked around nervously, biting his lip like a child keeping a dirty little secret. Then, he finally fessed up.

“I have… thalassophobia,” he guiltily admitted.

“What?”

“Thalassophobia.”

“What’s that?”

“Fear of the ocean. Like deep water, all the shit that lurks in it, you know? Being stranded at sea, even. I’ve always been afraid of the water, babe. I tried to work on it, believe me, but nah. It’s just always been that one thing I can’t get over.”

I was dumbfounded. “Wh-” I started, trying to find where to even begin. “You have a fear of the ocean and you booked us an underwater hotel with literally a 360 view of open water?”

His face was red. “Yeah,” he muttered.

“Why?” I asked.

“‘Cause, it was for you. It wasn’t about me. I wanted you to be happy, and I wanted to get you something nice for your birthday, something I knew you’d love.”

It was one of the many sweetest things I’d ever heard him say that I almost forgot how dumb he initially sounded at this moment. I went over to him and gently cupped his face with both my hands, my back facing the window now and his facing the door.

“Okay,” I started, “Baby, you didn’t have to get me anything - though, I’m very grateful for all of this. And besides, I still don’t want you to be uncomfortable even if I’m not. We’re… you know, a marriage. A unity, or whatever. A team. I wouldn’t do something for you if I didn’t like it either.”

Jackson arched a brow.

“Okay, I didn’t mean for that to sound as bad as it did. Of course, I’d make sacrifices for you, too. But you get my point?”

Then I realized he wasn’t reacting to what I said at all, and was looking across the room past me towards the glass.

“The rock is gone,” he whispered.

“Hmm?” I uttered.

I turned to face where he was looking and saw what he meant. The black abyss of space beyond the glass was no longer there, and instead, we saw the faint blue glistening of the evening once again. Strange… it’d been black as night a moment ago, I thought. But Jackson said the same thing I was thinking. He, too, thought it was a rock.

I looked to him. “Tell you what, I’ll order us some drinks - you pick - and I’ll bring them back and we can just hang out here, okay?”

His face lit up with excitement again. “You don’t have to do that, Babe? Don’t let me ruin your b-day.”

“To me, it’s ruined if you’re not happy.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I’d gotten room service to order us a tray of varied alcoholic beverages (only under his card, Jackson insisted). Champagne, Moscato, Grey Goose, and a few other cocktails, along with some crackers and cheeses to go along. We hung out together in the small enclosed room with our backs facing the window atop a fortress of pillows I pulled from the master bedroom and threw into the other room. I even fulfilled his request to cover the window with other stacks of pillows and whatever else I could find so he wouldn’t have to look outside.

We cuddled in the pillow fort we’d made and watched a movie on his phone. Any other person might view this as a complete downer to their vacation, but for me, I actually enjoyed every second of it. We never usually partook in high-end sort of living activities, even with me thoroughly planning and making sure we budget down to a T, so they usually ended in us doing things like this instead where we much preferred the comfort of doing things the unconventional way, such as sleeping in another room aside from the bed on a stack of pillows. Plus, it made Jackson feel better, and he was usually always braver than me. For once, I saw a true vulnerability in him.

“We’ve been to the pool and stuff together,” I said.

“Mm-hmm,” he replied. He drank way more than me. He’d answer anything at this point.

“You didn’t seem scared then.”

“The pool isn’t scary, the ocean is. Remember though, I couldn’t go past six feet?”

Then I thought about it. He was right. He never went too far to the deep end of any pools we got in.

“Huh,” I expressed. “I never noticed ‘til now.”

We kept on watching the movie for a couple more seconds before I had the urge to ask more questions.

“What about it scares you the most?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I mean, a lot of things. Like the thought of how deep it is… you never know what could be down there - here. The feeling of being surrounded by a vast bunch of endlessness, and being so small…” He shivered with chills. “Yeesh. Fuck that.”

“Yeah, when you put it that way, that does sound pretty scary.”

“Nah, you love it. You and the ocean have a pact.”

“What?” I smiled.

“Admit it, you would love to be a little mermaid just swimmin’ along in the abyss, waving at seamen - haha, seamen - passing by on their little boats and just having a grand time-”

“Oh shut up!” I laughed.

“-Just floating around with your long red hair collecting seashells singing, ‘Unda da sea!’-”

“Whatever!”

“-Unda da seaaaa!”

He was hysterical, and we were both having a good time. At least he was enjoying himself now.

I had to get up and use the bathroom again. After doing so, I decided to go get my phone that I’d left on the charger from the bed. But when I stepped into the room, it was nearly pitch black. I couldn’t see a damn thing.

What happened to the LED lights? Did they automatically turn off by themselves? It’d be weird if they did, though, because it wasn’t at our discretion to do it ourselves, and who’s to say we still needed the light or not?

I decided to use the bathroom light by swinging the door wide open to let the rest seep into the room and illuminate. Now, I could discern where everything was, if only faintly.

I went over to the bedside and pulled my phone from the USB. 100-percent battery life. Nice. While I was over there, I also turned on the lamplight perched next to me, and saw that it emitted a bright enough radiance to fill the entire corner of the bedroom. Might as well leave it on.

Then a thought occurred to me to check on the vast space I’d spotted earlier through the window. It would be directly in front of me. So I lifted my head to take a look, and to my stupidity, of course, it was indistinguishable now at this time of night. Some hours had passed since I last saw it, making the entire perspective a dark blue tint.

Though I loved the ocean and all the creatures that inhabited it, after hearing Jackson’s opposing view on the subject, in a weird sense, I was now starting to get what he meant. The vast darkness of the underwater. The endless abyss. I could imagine how terrifying it must be to swim in such a colossal space with no sense of direction, no other object in sight. No way out…

And what made it more frightening, I think, wasn’t that the water was pitch black. No, it was the fact that it was nearly complete darkness, but not entirely. You could observe the murkiness of the depths shift from light blue to an uncanny shaded indigo. Were the shadows underneath simply an indication of how far the light could reach from above? Or, could it be that something waited - patiently - down below?

Geez, I could have quite the imagination when I got to thinking too much by myself. I was even getting scared at my own thoughts. But if anything, I could now sympathize with my husband’s dread.

I turned to walk back to the bathroom door when another thought struck me, stopping me in my tracks. The rock Jackson and I noticed earlier, or at least what we thought was a rock… wasn’t it black? Like, entirely black. Black as night? And we both thought we were seeing things, where the rock had suddenly moved and we couldn’t identify it anymore through the window of the back room. It was hard to say if it was a bad memory or the alcohol, but I could swear…

I went over to the telephone next to the bed and decided to call room service again.

“Hello?” the female clerk on the other line answered.

“Hi, yes, I was just calling because I noticed the lights in our room aren’t working anymore. Not the main lights for the lamp and bathroom and stuff, but for LED lights, you know?”

“Oh, I see. Yes, there’s a switch on the wall right next to the thermostat where you can turn them on. It has a knob where you can adjust the brightness, and another one that lets you change the color to whichever one you’d like also.”

I shifted my eyes over to where she was referring to and found exactly what she meant. I could’ve found that if I bothered to look first.

“Oh, I see it now,” I laughed. “I guess I’ll check and make sure it’s on or off.”

“Okay,” the clerk responded, sounding pleased. “But that’s strange. They normally stay on unless of course, the guests decide to shut them off or when they automatically shut off at sunrise.”

“Hmm… maybe there was just a short power outage?” I suggested, though, it was probably unrealistic.

“Could be,” the clerk fancied. “But either way, hopefully you and your husband can enjoy the lovely moonlight from above as well.”

I was confused. “Moonlight?” I said.

“Yes. From where your room should be, it’s placed in the perfect spot for the moon to be seen from the top of the glass.”

“Really?” I replied, very puzzled. I looked up to see if I could maybe notice it through the top. “I don’t see any-”

At the sight I was now witnessing, I felt every bone, every muscle, every nerve in my body turn cold. There was something on top of the glass. Not just on top, but engulfing the entire tank. Above were faint details of what I could only imagine was its mouth. It was circular almost, with rows of what looked like razor-sharp teeth getting smaller at the center.

“Hello?” the clerk said on the other line.

I couldn’t move. A sensation more than just fear overcame me. I was petrified. At this moment, I never felt so small.

Then, the creature began to shift its entire body away from the glass, sending a near-seismic rumble throughout the suite. I dropped the phone onto the floor, and I followed suit as I got down, raising my arms as an instinctual reaction to try and shield me from whatever was about to happen next - as if that would do anything. I was in the presence of something further up the food chain than myself. Further up than any other predator that I knew that walked or swam the face of the earth.

As it released its grip from off the glass, shapes of monstrous tentacles began to flail about, leaving behind a powerful swooshing noise through the water, along with a resonant sound that the only way I could describe it as is something that couldn’t be replicated. Not on this planet. It was deafening, earth-shattering, like something from a different world.

MuuuUUUuuuuuh

MuUUUuuuUUUUUUUuuh

It was so alien-like. It seemed to be coming from the thing itself. So powerful, even more so than the call of a blue whale or the roar of an earthquake. It was truly one of the loudest sounds I’d ever heard.

Suddenly, pure blackness no longer surrounded the view, as shades of the natural lighting of the ocean floor began to form again, and instantaneously, a white glow emitted from the glass ceiling. There it was. The moon. It had been there the whole time… and so had this thing.

As the creature rose higher away from my view, I was starting to get an even better look at its size. I still couldn’t even grasp its entire shape. It was huge. A behemoth of an unknown force lurking down here, waiting to be discovered.

I was amazed, astonished even, but not in a positive manner. The same sensation kept overtaking me as I began to curl up into a ball next to the bed. The sensation that I’d never felt so small…

I planned on staying there and hiding under the bed until it was gone. Then I’d be safe. But Jackson…

I got up and immediately ran towards the bathroom and over into the other room, shutting the door behind me. He was still lying against the pillows watching the movie on his phone, not noticing a thing about what lies beyond the glass. I couldn’t have been the only one to hear it, I thought.

“Baby,” I panicked.

He looked at me, concerned. “What’s wrong?” he asked. I guess he didn’t hear what I did after all.

But I couldn’t tell him, I thought. I was already scared as it was, but telling him might be catastrophic, and he’d never want to leave this room.

“I-I…” I stammered. “… I saw something.”

It just came out. What was I supposed to do, lie?

“What?” he said, now growing nervous as I was. Fuck, why did I do that?

“Th-There was something outside the glass, um…” Then I realized, I hadn’t told him the whole truth. “A shark or something. Like, a big shark.”

Jackson arched his brow, like he always did when he thought I was crazy.

“Are you pranking me?” he asked, his whole demeanor changing from worried to a perky suspicion.

I was dumbfounded. “Huh?” I said, still in a state of clear panic.

“I thought you loved sharks? Go play with your new friend,” he joked.

Without a doubt, the alcohol took the edge off of him from earlier, but he had no idea just how serious I was. Maybe that was a good thing, but right now, I needed both of us to leave this room asap.

I kneeled in front of him, looking him in the eye.

“Listen, I don’t wanna be in here right now. I’m getting… claustrophobic,” I lied. “Let’s just go to one of the lounges and hang out there for a bit where there’s no open water outside to look at, okay?”

He still wasn’t buying it. I’d be skeptical, too, if I were him. I never expressed fear of any sort in regards to the ocean. Even all the scary creatures he feared that swam in the sea, I took a liking to. But not that thing. Not that thing that waited outside…

“Your acting never fails to impress me, dear-

“Jackson!” I snapped.

He turned straight-faced again. I never snapped at him like that before. He knew I was serious this time.

“You’re serious,” he said. I nodded.

“Just put on your pants and let’s go,” I insisted. “I-I’ll cover your eyes so you don’t have to see out there when we cross the room.”

“Okay…”

He got up and started to put his hands on.

“By the way,” he started, “Did you hear something a minute ago? Or was it just the movie?”

“Hear what?” I asked, a noticeable fear in my voice.

“Well I don’t know, I thought I heard something, like a loud rumbling noise. Thought it came from the movie, but then I was like, there’s no way, because-”

MuUUUuuuUUUUUUUuuh

We both felt it rumble down in our feet and up to our rib cage, and stared at each other for a moment. Aware of precisely the same thing now, Jackson whispered under his breath, “Honey… what was that?”

Suddenly, the rumble sounded again, and was followed by both of us losing balance on both of our feet, and we both began to stumble. We both struggled to hold on to each other while simultaneously trying to grab onto the wall for support. Jackson managed to clutch one of the beams sitting atop the wall, and his strength alone was enough to hold both of us. I held onto him for dear life as the suite kept violently shaking.

His back was to the window as my arms hooked around him for balance. But I could see ahead that the barricade of pillows we’d put up on the window had now fallen, leaving the glass open for a full display of the outside. And to my confusion, I couldn’t see anything beyond it. It wasn’t a dark blue or black tint this time, but instead, a bright yellowish shade that now covered the window.

The rumbling had now stopped, and it was quiet as a mouse.

“You okay?” Jackson asked.

I didn’t say anything. I was too fixated on the window. Why was it that color? It’s like we shifted into a different environment altogether. Like a whole new backdrop.

“What the hell?” I muttered.

“Hmm?”

He turned to what I was perceiving and shared the same confusion. It was a strange sight indeed. Then we saw a black circle shift from nowhere and down into different corners of the circular window. The direction of the circle bounced randomly from corner to corner as if it were a corrupted game of Pong, until finally sitting dead center on the glass, facing us.

I felt a sick sensation in my gut, and Jackson’s jaw dropped in terror at the realization of what we were now both seeing. It was an eye… and it saw us.

MuUUUuuuUUUUUUUuuh

The sound rumbled the whole area again.

“Go, go!” Jackson shouted, trying to lead us both out of the room, and we did just that.

We’d crossed into the bathroom when the lights cut off. There was darkness again. We were blind to the lack of light as we both tripped into each other, him almost knocking me down completely. I grabbed onto what I could only guess was the sink as Jackson quickly grabbed me to keep me from falling.

“You all right?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“What the hell is that thing?” His voice trembled.

“I don’t know,” I cried.

We needed to get ahead into the room and out into the main lobby and let someone know what was going on. But the lamp I’d left on in the bedroom ahead was out, too. Otherwise, there’d be some lighted path for us to distinguish. It was pure darkness. The only faint light, if any, came from the dark hue of the water surrounding us.

I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight to lead us.

“C’mon,” I demanded.

Jackson followed closely behind with his arms still over me for protection. Though, I’m sure it was more for him than it was for me. I could only imagine…

We raced through the bedroom and for the door in a matter of seconds. But in that time, we caught a glimpse of the outside. It was a nightmare. Just an endless void of murky dark water that appeared to stretch for an eternity. We were two small, meaningless creatures in the center of the vast universe.

When we got to the door, I turned the knob and pulled back without hesitation, as Jackson reached over and helped by yanking it back into the wall, and we both hauled ass out of there. In the halls, the lights were out as well. No source of illumination anywhere except the faint moonlight protruding the ocean’s horizon. Like the suite, the halls were made entirely of glass like a giant walkthrough tube to behold the ocean life exterior.

“Which way is it?” I anxiously asked.

“Here,” Jackson said, pointing down to the left corridor.

He and I made our way down the halls, but slowly this time. Something outside caught our eye. Indescribable. Countless dark silhouettes of fish. Hundreds of them. The ones that had been gone earlier were now all here for us to see beyond the glass. However, something was wrong.

The way in which they swam didn’t align in a fluid horizontal motion. Some of their bodies were positioned diagonally, vertically, and in a strange sense, seemed to be floating rather than swimming…

Then the realization hit me. They weren’t swimming at all. They were dead. Lifelessly drifting in the water down to us.

“Jesus,” Jackson gasped.

“L-let’s just keep moving,” I said, trying to be brave.

Then to our left, the creature emerged from below, its massive tentacles and fins rising into view, its bright yellow eyes glaring into us. The hall began to shake as the earth-shattering rumble sounded throughout the structure.

Without hesitation, the two of us raced down the hall to reach the next corridor that would eventually get us to the lobby. We just needed to make it. Where that thing could no longer see us.

All throughout the long glass tube, it followed from the outside. But not like a predator chasing its prey, but in an unsettlingly forbearing nature, as if it knows its place in the animal kingdom hierarchy. We were no challenge for it. It wanted to taunt us. It knew…

We’d managed to run down to the lobby and thankfully, one of the clerks was still there at the counter, likely the one I’d spoken to earlier on the phone. The woman saw us in our state of panic and immediately stood up to ask what was the matter. We told her of the creature that was terrorizing us, to which she was understandably struck by. We even told her about the fish we’d seen that were now regurgitated from the monster. It was hard to say if she bought our story or not, but based on her facial expressions, she innately knew we were dead serious.

The two of us refused to spend another night in that room. We asked if there were any other rooms available that didn’t involve windows of any sort, or better yet, any that were at the surface, but truly, Jackson and I both wanted to get the hell out of this place.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A couple of hotel staff offered to take our belongings out of the room and personally hand them over to us in the main lobby, as the clerk informed us that there was a vacancy in the only other room available at the top above the water, on top of the fact that neither one of us agreed to enter that hellish fishbowl again.

In our new more relaxing suite on the surface of the land, it’d taken a while for either one of us to fall back asleep. Jackson, in the shock of it all and for good reason, had taken it harder than me. I lied there with him in bed and stayed until he felt comfortable to drift off.

At some point in the night, I’d got up to peer out the window, which gave a view of the ocean’s horizon under the full moon. Any other day, I’d find the sight to be an ethereal beauty, not one to literally die for. What was supposed to have been a beautiful day for the two of us, at the expense of Jackson going out of his way to try and make me happy, was now ruined by the untethered force of nature that resided beneath.

I began to quietly sob, as not to wake Jackson from his slumber, my vision becoming blurred from the muddiness of tears.

But as I looked down again at the ocean below, I could sense that somewhere in my line of sight, it waited. And with a startling revelation that haunted me from when we first looked the creature in its eye, there was an undeniable fact that it knew.

It knew…

#writer #story #horror stories #nosleep #scifi #scifi story #thriller #thalassophobia #ocean horror

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until-we-fall-in-love · 5 years ago

Text

Ingénue: Chapter Five

-Read Chapter Four-

-Masterlist-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader, in later chapters Natasha Romanov x Reader, and Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You take a job as a showgirl in an illegal speakeasy owned by two of the most notorious mobsters of New York City in 1921. Caught up in the glamor and mystique, you go spiraling into a world a little more dangerous than you had originally thought. 1920s AU.

In this chapter, there’s an argument, and deeper feelings are revealed.

Warnings: Smut in this chapter, other chapters there will be violence, etc.

If you are under 18, you should not be reading this!

A/N: sorry this one took awhile guys! i’ve been really busy with end of semester, so hopefully things will begin to slow down soon and i can write more frequently! i hope you enjoy this chapter and pls let me know what you think!! also happy thanksgiving to americans!

***

“I don’t believe we’ve met yet.”

Alexander’s voice is smooth and airy and you lift your eyes to find his eyes which are glued to your face with an eerie curiosity. As if he has found a jewel or gem, something interesting and incredible; something that he can use and twist and break.

Bucky grows tense beside you.

You sit up, though, tilt your chin up slightly and try to find your pride as you stare down the notorious Alexander Pierce. You try to find a piece of that bravado you bring on stage every night; the one that caught Natasha’s attention, that enamored Bucky and Steve and half of New York.

The courage that a mobster’s girlfriend might have.

You give him your name through hooded, haughty eyes. Your lashes curl against your cheek which are soft and rosy in the candlelight. Your hair is curled loosely, tousled from the stage and you’re still smelling like roses and violets; flowers that were gifted to you after your performance. You offer your hand to Pierce as if you are a princess to be revered, royalty to be looked upon with adoration and respect. Pierce places a kiss to your knuckles, a twinkle in his eyes as he assesses you closer.

“You’re as beguiling as everyone says you are.” Alexander comments, but the way he’s gazing you is more akin to grotesque fascination rather than genuine attention.

You withdraw your hand daintily, “Thank you.”

“What do you want, Pierce?” Bucky snaps suddenly, the low timbre of his voice a warning, a trace of a growl around the edges.

“Always so impatient, Mr. Barnes.”

“Pierce,” Steve says, more evenly, but sterner, “What do you want?”

“Only to talk.” He says easily, settling back into his chair a little more as if he owns the place, as if he is quite comfortable.

“Then why’d you bring half your crew?” Bucky insists darkly, eyes flitting out to him.

“Precaution, is all. Never sure with you two.” He comments lightly, as if this is an easily fixed issue. “Now,” And he claps his hands together, “Let’s get down to business, shall we, gentlemen?”

You blink between them.

“Does she know anything?” Rumlow asks suddenly instead. Pierce looks briefly irritated, but his features are schooled so quickly, you wonder if you imagined it.

“No,” Bucky says quickly, “She’s totally in the dark.”

Pierce narrows his eyes, puckers his lips, “That so?”

“That’s so.” Steve says firmly. And then he turns to you, ducks his face closer to yours and says, “Why don’t you head to the ladies room for a moment, huh?”

Your eyes widen in sudden surprise and fear-- he’s not serious, is he? You search his face wildly for a moment, and find that he is. Your breath comes in quicker, a little more rapid. He’d really leave you alone?

“Steve,” You almost beg.

“Go on,” Steve urges, gentler, hand on your waist to ease you past him and out the booth.

Pierce watches on a little too closely. When you stand on shaking legs, trying to straighten your back, bring your breath in deep, all eyes are on you. It’s almost as if you can feel the warmth of stage lights, the glare burning into you there and then. So you school your features again and glide forward surprisingly well.

Faintly, you hear Pierce muse, “So she really is in the dark, then.”

A woman of Pierce’s follows after you, seemingly casual but she makes your teeth grind. When you enter the bathroom, it is eerily quiet. The long, old mirrors are prettily distressed and your reflection shimmers before your eyes.

You force yourself into being calmer, even as the door slams shut behind you two.

You pretend to fix your makeup, your fingers are shaking though, a slight tremble that betrays your disguised face.

The woman leans against the wall casually, watching you like a hawk.

You flutter your lashes innocently, “I like your trousers.” You tell her, trying to gauge her, to express your naivete.

She quirks a brow as you rattle on, “I wish I could pull off trousers like that.”

She doesn’t give you a response, but looks rather amused with you, or perhaps annoyed that she’s been given the duty of watching someone so asinine. Your insignificance is both a little insulting and suddenly comforting. You gain a swell of bravery, turn back towards the mirror to play with your hair, humming a little tune to yourself.

You make yourself wide eyed and silly and nothing like her. Ditzy and blind about everything; which isn’t a lie, in some ways. Steve and Bucky have let you in on so little in regards to business. They keep you safely tucked away in their garden, in their house on top of a hill, far from the reaches of intel and mobs and danger.

Another woman suddenly steps into the restroom, glances between you two. You keep humming to yourself, a little flitting tune that makes you seem distracted as you push and pull at your hair in the mirror.

You don’t even glance at them as one says to the other, “Everyone’s in place, interceptions ready. We’ve gotta go.”

And just like that, she disappears, leaving you without a thought. You’re not a threat, just a girl caught up with the wrong crowd.

You give yourself a moment, drop the tune, inhale sharply. Whatever was intercepted is likely important, likely something Steve and Bucky need to know, but when you glance back out at the tables, Pierce still sits comfortably.

You return to the bathroom, ring your hands and try to breathe. You ease through your thoughts and try to unravel a plan. Is it too long to wait until Pierce is gone to tell them? It feels it, the time tick, tick, ticking by too quickly.

You worry your lip, think harder. Could you tell them secretly? Would it matter if you could? What would they do when they’re outmanned and outgunned?

You wish you could just tell Natasha or-- or Sam.

And like lightning your plan comes all at once, in a great strike of heat and spark.

You force yourself not to rush out of the bathroom, glide back towards the kitchen where Donna had ushered many of the staff back. She welcomes you back there with open arms, hushing and cooing at you about what brutes they are, how she wants you to stay back here until they’re gone. You sniffle and agree, but only to ask your next question;

“Do you have a telephone, perhaps?”

She looks at you quizzically for a heartbeat, but then nods, “Yes, yes, in the back office.” And she points you down a hallway.

“May I use it? I’d like to call my sister. She always knows how to calm me down.”

Few can deny your wide eyes and in moments, you find yourself in the small, back office. The telephone is mounted on the wall and Donna shuts the door behind her, leaving you alone.

You rush towards it, dial for operator, and rush to answer him so he can connect you to the mansion and beg for someone to answer. For a fearsome, horrible moment you fear the worst. But then it’s Sam’s smoothe, warm voice--

“Sam!” You gasp into the phone.

“Hey honey, what’s going on?”

“Alexander Pierce is here.” You respond hushed and quickly, “And I caught word of some of his henchmen-- they’re intercepting something. I don’t know what, and I can’t warn Steve or Bucky right now.”

Sam goes deathly silent for a moment.

“Sam?” You ask, voice breaking, “Sam, do you know what they’re talking about?”

“Yeah,” He says then and his voice has gone hard, too, “Yeah, I do.” And then, “Are you safe? Do you need me?”

“I-I’m safe. We’re really outnumbered but he’s just-- Pierce is just talking to them.”

Sam’s breath is a shaky exhale, “I think he’s distracting them. You stay where you are, okay? Don’t get involved with this.”

“O-okay.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll do something about all this. Just hang on.” Sam promises fiercely, and then as soon as the conversation had started, it’s over. Your heart is throbbing, a fierce pulse in your chest but-- but you had to have done something, didn't you?

Pierce leaves in fifteen minutes.

When you return to Steve and Bucky’s sides, they are tense and abrasive. But Steve looks you over with concern. He cradles your cheek with delicacy, his eyes a flurry over your features, your body.

“Are you okay?” He asks, blue eyes blazing.

You nod into his hands, leaning in to the comfort. “I called Sam, after I heard one of Pierce’s girls say that they were ready to intercept something—“

Bucky and Steve look at each other sharply, Steve’s hands falling from your face. Evidently, they know what it is that Pierce would be intercepting. You can see it in the flood of worry or anger on their features. Bucky curses before Steve looks back at you.

“Wait, you called Sam, sweetheart?”

You nod quickly, “I figured it was important to know so I went to the back and said I had to call my sister and I called Sam.”

Bucky’s brows quirk upward and he regards you with surprise, a little astonishment, “You lied like that? Just off the top of your head?”

You nod again, slowly, “I couldn’t tell you, so I assumed I should tell Sam.” You look between them, your eyes fluttering back and forth, “What were they talking about intercepting?”

Another slow look is shared between them, silent.

“Honey,” Steve starts, placating and soft and you know he won’t tell you. Not with his voice like that, all gentle and coaxing, a way to get you to his side before he’s even said no. Usually, it serves to make you melt, but this time, it makes you harden. You jerk away from his touch, tilt your chin up and try not to pout at him.

“I want to know.” You say suddenly, and the moment you do, you realize how much you want to know. You realize your own naïveté, the way they’d coddled and hid you from everything and you’re not angry—

You’re not angry yet.

You’ve simply never thought to ask. You’ve never been engulfed in it, in this life of criminals and mobsters and crime. You’ve been kept tucked away in soft, linen beds and in rosy, summer damp gardens. Should you be angry at them?

You blink hard, suck in a sharp breath.

“I want to know everything, I don’t like being in the dark anymore.” You say and your voice is firm, new to even your own ears.

Steve shakes his head, “It just isn’t safe--” He starts gently, reaching for your hand now.

You pull away again, adamant, your cheeks flushing with color, “After tonight, don’t you think it’s more dangerous if I don’t know?” You glance good Bucky to gauge his reaction, “What if I’m approached alone? Or without you? What am I supposed to do?”

Steve and Bucky are quiet for a moment.

It’s Bucky who says, “We didn’t want to involve you in all this.”

And you say, with your nose turned up, perhaps a little too coldly, “Then you should have never started dating me.”

Steve’s eyes flare like a lightning strike; there’s an argument in them, you can see it brewing. There’s some hurt, too, swirling in the brightness of them. And you know he’s stubborn, you know this is going to lead to your first real argument. Perhaps you should be more scared, perhaps less challenging, but you meet Steve’s eyes head on and don’t falter.

“We’re not talking about this here.” Steve says sternly, as if to scold you.

“Fine,” You respond, insolent and breezy, as you pick up your purse and ease out of the booth seamlessly. You glide towards the door with your chin up, expecting them to follow without another word.

It’s bratty, you know this. But it’s also to preserve your own images. You won’t argue with them in public, you won’t let rumors spread. Especially when, recently, every other column in the newspaper is about you. Everyone has an opinion on you, condemning you or loving you, judging you or adoring you. And Steve’s right, you shouldn’t speak about this here, but he’s made you testy with the burning look in his eyes and the hard-set jaw.

So you turn your back on them and walk to the car with elegance and briskness, your heels clicking against the stone, a swish in your hips.

Bucky and Steve share another look, longer this time. A silent conversation. Bucky is the first to move, jogging to catch up to you.

The car ride home is quiet and you hang your head off the side in the back, cheek pressed to your arm, the breeze tangling in your hair.

You wonder if ignorance really is bliss, and if it is, why do you want to leave it so badly?

***

When you arrive back to the mansion, Sam and Natasha are there. In fact, Sam sweeps you up into his arms with a broad smile. The air leaves your lungs just as he praises, “There’s the heroine of the hour!”

He spins you around and because of your morose mood you can’t find it in yourself to smile, but you do throw your arms around him and bury your face in his neck. You huff lightly, just as he sets you down on your feet. He’s still got you around the waist, strong and sweet, as Bucky asks over your head;

“So you stopped them, then?”

“Hell yeah we did.” Sam says, chest swelling with pride. And then he pulls away to look at you, to grasp your chin, “All because of your wits, princess.”

He finally takes in your sullen features, the way your lips are pinched into a pout. “What’s a matter, huh?” He asks then, dropping his voice for you so it settles warmly into your chest, along the column of your spine. “Pierce scare you?”

You shake your head, “Not really.”

“Rumlow?” Natasha asks then, eyeing you.

You scoff lightly, step away from Sam and glide past them to the velvet settee, sink down upon with another little huff, moving to pull your shoes right off.

“Someone’s gotten awfully brave after one encounter.” Steve says and there’s a cutting edge to his voice that makes you bristle, it’s sharp and if you’re not careful, you’ll cut yourself on it. You tense, glance at him over your shoulders as you begin to take out your earrings.

“I’ve met Rumlow before.” You counter, letting the pearls drop into your open palm like dew drops.

“And you cowered behind Natasha the whole time.” Steve shoots back and you flush with anger and a tinge of embarrassment, the heat prickling uncomfortably at your neck. Much to your irritation, bitter tears spring to your eyes. Pressure builds inside of you. But you refuse to let it out this time, take a deep, rushed breath to try and keep it all carefully in the back of your throat.

“Well, that’s what I’m supposed to do, isn’t it? Cower behind everyone.” You snap back, and this time your voice is thick with emotion, “Maybe I should’ve cowered tonight, Steve, and then your--”

You don’t even know what it is you managed to help save. You swallow back your frustration, all the pressure in you building.

“Whatever-- would’ve been intercepted.” You bite out, scrub angrily at your cheek when a silken tear slips free.

Bucky moves to you now, moves to sit beside you, “A shipment of booze. A big one that would’ve hurt business badly if it would’ve been taken from us.” He supplies, and he lays his arm across the back of the settee, it hovers behind you, a pressure at your back. He doesn't touch you, but leans close and drops near you.

You try to ignore him, begin stripping off your gloves angrily to distract yourself from his probing eyes. You toss them to the floor. And then, unashamed, you move to your stockings, bending over and hitching your dress up to roll them down from your legs quickly. You feel suddenly constricted in all your clothes and jewels and pins.

“You did good tonight, sweetheart.” Bucky murmurs, fingers skimming the bare skin of your shoulders.

You aren’t ready to give in to him yet, though. Even if a part of you longs to lay your head against his chest, feel the thud of his heart beneath your cheek. Let him wrap you up in his arms, curl you into his lap. But you’re being stubborn, too.

“If I did so well, why won’t you tell me anything?” You ask, a hiss of breath between your teeth as you toss your stockings to the floor, too.

“I told you this would happen eventually.” Natasha muses aloud, leaning against the wall casually, her cat eyes following the three of you. Steve throws her a glare before moving.

“It’s dangerous.” Steve says firmly, finally coming to your other side. “And you know it.”

Your eyes flash, shimmering with tears and your temper. “What are you gonna do, Steve? Keep me here forever?”

“You know I don’t keep you here.”

“Might as well. I know it’s what you want, keeping me all helpless and tucked away here.” You stand suddenly, your emotions bubbling. The pressure in you mounts, presses at your eyes and throat and heart.

“We’re trying to keep you safe.” Steve grinds back--

And you shouldn’t say it, but you’re upset and maybe your adrenaline is still burning through you like a candle burns a wick and the words burst forth from your lips like a stray bird being loosened from a cage;

“I’m just someone to keep your bed warm! Entertain you for awhile. I’m your little toy to protect, isn’t that right?” You seethe, a few tears suddenly dripping onto your cheeks, making them dewy and glittering in the low light. You know you’re getting irrational now, you know you’re throwing a tantrum, but you can’t stop it now. Not when it’s spilled over and out of you, crybaby girl, trying to make all the noise in the world, drown the whole place in your tears. Until the chandelier sinks and everything turns blue and bubbly and muted.

So you turn away, glance over your shoulder, “I’ll be in your bed, then!” You tell Steve, raising your voice, suddenly reaching to grasp at your dress and peel it right off your body. You shuck it off and let it drop to the floor as you head down the hallway towards the bedroom, the beads clatter and skitter across the marble floor as some burst free from the fabric, “Since all I am is some dame on your arm!”

You’re down to your silk slip now, the fabric hanging high on your thighs. “Some floozy that doesn’t know anything!” You yell because it hurts, because it feels like they don’t trust you, because--

Because you want more, still. You don’t want to be dumb and clueless anymore, you don’t want to look foolish or be left in the dark to wonder and grasp at God knows what. Even more, you want to help them.

You want to be apart of this, apart of them, fully and without constraints.

“Get back over here!” Steve says after you, but you slam the door to the bedroom before he can reach you.

It rattles on its hinges, the sound echoing inside of you, making your heart tremble, too. You throw yourself down onto the bed, grab a pillow to bury your face in and yell and cry until you’re hoarse.

Until you fall asleep, curled around the pillow, around yourself, all lonesome on a too-big bed.

***

You don’t rise easily in the morning, linger in the sheets that smell of Bucky and Steve. You turn inward, half-embarrassed, and half too prideful to be the first to appear. You gnaw on your bottom lip, twist and turn and roll around restlessly until there is a knock on the door. The sun is pale and muted by the curtains.

Quietly, you slip from bed, pad over to the door and open it.

Bucky stands before you, dark hair tousled, and in his boxers. He’s bare chested and sleepy-eyed; he looks warm and like you want to drag him to bed.

“Can I come in?” He asks, voice rough and soft.

You let the door swing open wider, turning from him to sit upon the bed once more.

“Where’s Steve?” You ask, since it was the two of you that had really started the spark and caught flame.

“On a run.” Bucky answers, and he tentatively sits beside you on the bed. You fiddle with the end of your slip, which you hadn’t changed out of before drifting off to sleep the previous night. Your fingers twist and turn in the fabric, focusing on anything but him.

The silence that becomes thick and tight between you two is broken by him again, “Steve thinks, the less you know, the less our enemies will be interested in you.” Bucky explains gently, watches you closely as you tense again. “We’re trying to keep you safe.”

“Safety isn’t a cage.”

“Do we cage you?” Bucky asks quietly, brows pulling together and he’s earnest and worried, “Do you not like it here?”

You deflate slightly at his tone, at the care he gazes at you with, “No,” You say lightly, “No, I love it here.” You admit, your eyes falling away from his face and to your hands. “I just-- I want to be apart of this, too.”

Bucky lets out a slow breath, “We don’t want to risk you, sweetheart.” He shakes his head, “If anything happened to you because of us--”

“It isn’t your choice to make, though.” You tell him, soft, but your tone is firm, and you reach out to him finally, touch his face with seeking, cold little finger tips. “I should know what I’m getting myself into.”

“I know, but--”

“Bucky.” You say, “This is my choice.”

Bucky loosens another breath, but this time you can tell that he knows what you say is true. He’s giving in, you can see it in his eyes, in the slightly fond curl of his lips as he says, “You’re gonna give Stevie a run for his money when it comes to stubbornness.”

You give him a small, sheepish smile back, “Someone’s gotta.” You say and Bucky surprises you with a warm, rumbling laugh.

“C’mere, doll.” He murmurs and then you’re being pulled into his warm lap, twining your arms around his neck and shoulders. He noses at your neck, at your collar bones, inhales deep and fits you close to him. As if he missed you dearly and sorely, as if it hadn’t been a night but a week.

“You know you mean the world to Stevie and I, right?” He then says into your hair, the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “You know we don’t think of you as—“

“I know.” You respond on a breath, nudging your nose against his cheek. “I only said those things because I was angry.” You admit, embarrassed and shy, burying yourself in Bucky’s arms. He rubs at your back, your neck, let’s you stay hidden in the warmth of his bare skin.

Bucky leans away slightly, only to snag your lips in a slow, light kiss. It’s soft, slightly teasing, and full of love and forgiveness and an apology. And you return it, force him to deepen it and tighten your arms around him. You can feel a smile on his lips at your sudden eagerness, the way his hand slides along your shoulders, pulling you that much closer.

You kiss languid and sweet, trying to get rid of the sting from the previous night. Bucky tangles a hand in your hair, rolls your hips against his.

There’s a creek at the door, a shuffle of feet. You pull away from Bucky’s lips, and he pushes his nose and lips to your neck, in the curtain of your hair as you turn to look over your shoulder.

Steve stands in the doorway, in shorts and a t-shirt. His skin is flushed and damp with sweat, his hair disheveled, too. Your eyes clash with his for a heartbeat, before you turn back into Bucky’s shoulder and bury your face there. You huff into his shoulder, still a little sore after last night,

You hear more than you see Steve step towards you two, a little tentative, but he eventually stands behind you. Bucky faces him and you think there’s a shared, silent conversation before Steve’s hand gently nestles into your hair.

He cards through it lightly, delicately, working his way down from the crown of your head to the ends. You try not to sink into the touch, to lean back and bask in it.

After a moment, he says, “I’m sorry about last night.”

“S’okay.” You mumble into Bucky’s neck, still clinging to him. You feel childish, feel needy and vulnerable somehow. You should apologize, too. Your pride has a hard time going down, but you swallow it and add, “I’m sorry, too.”

“It’s okay.” Steve says softly, “You were right, in ways. I only wanted to keep you safe and happy and free here.” Steve admits, “I just—“

And he pauses, swallows his fear, settles his hand into the nape of your neck. You think you can hear his heart beating, pounding like a little drum. His mouth opens, closes, opens again;

“I love you. And I got scared last night.”

You pick your head up finally from Bucky’s shoulder, heart soaring or dropping or stuttering. You fill with the light of dawn, the peach burst of sweetness, the warmth of honeyed summer, thick and heady with it.

You fill with nervous, too, twisting butterflies that burst through you. As if they might break free from your ribs and flit about the room.

Your lashes flutter as you look back up at Steve, arch your back and gaze at him over your shoulder. The morning is hazy and gauzy white through the curtains. You let him cradle your skull with a broad hand, let him sink his hand deep into your hair at the nape of your neck, where you’re vulnerable and precious.

“Steve,” You breathe, and his fingers flex in your hair, like they might tighten, but he stays gentle. You turn slightly, reach out to him, snag his t-shirt to yank him down to you.

His lips meet yours in a messy sort of desperate kiss, the clink of teeth, the harsh breath that pulls from his lungs and seems to fill yours. You try to steady yourself by grasping Bucky’s shoulder, your other hand balled into a fist of Steve’s shirt.

His hand tightens in your hair, tilts your head up to open your lips further to him. Bucky’s warm mouth touches your neck, pulls a sweet whine right from the pit of you.

When you pull away, breathless, chest rising and falling against Bucky’s, you stay close to Steve. Keep your eyes shut a moment; as if you could hold this moment in the dearest, softest part of you. As if you could cradle it forever in the fire bloom of your heart. Your eyes open to Steve’s and there are tears there, shining and new and tender.

So you tell him, with all your adoration and love and ache for him wrapped around the petal-soft words;

“I love you, too.”

His lips come down on yours again, harsher this time, with a violent sort of need. A desperate love, the kind that is raw and open and vulnerable, trembling and weak and horrified and elated. He possesses you and you let him, let him pull your silk slip from your body. Let Bucky rid you of panties until all you are is naked and soft between them. A flower unfurled, bare and lovely and flushed.

When Steve lets you breathe again, you let your lips curl upwards into a mischievous little smile, and your eyes gleaming with new love, “Does that mean you’ll tell me everything, then?” You ask and it’s cheeky, it’s warm, it makes Bucky laugh into your chest. “You’ll let me in?”

Steve can’t help but smile at you, against your cheek, dragging to the nape of your neck. “Yeah,” He says, “Yeah, but we’ll talk about it later.” He husks and his hand curls around your shoulder, pushes you deep into Bucky, until he has to lay back and send you down with him, with you on his chest.

Bucky hitches your leg up around his waist, fingers curling into your thigh. You lean into him, nuzzle into his neck with flaming cheeks.

He leaves you open to Steve, kisses you hard when Steve slides fingers against where you’ve gotten warm and aching. Bucky drinks down all your cries eagerly, his hands rough on the dips and curves of you, fingers digging into skin.

Steve undresses, slides himself against your core, the crown of him catching, gliding through the wetness. And he takes you like that, pushes inside and there’s an ache still, so you bite down on Bucky’s shoulder and whimper. He hushes you, rubbing his cheek to yours. Steve doesn’t give you time to adjust, begins moving while there is still a bite of pain, stretching you until it hurts.

You fuss slightly, because it’s overwhelming and you want to. You begin squirming atop of Bucky to get away from Steve. You could handle it, you know you could, but you still want to be a brat. Not let him in so easily. There’s some lingering feelings all tangled up in you, a bittersweetness after the previous night and this morning. There’s still a long talk to be had and—

You whine his name and then gasp, “You’re being a brute.”

You ease up to rest your hands on Bucky’s chest and look over your shoulder and pout at Steve, “I’ll make you watch first if you’re gonna be mean, Stevie.” You tell him with a flutter of lashes, a haughty little attitude that drives Steve right up the wall.

Maybe you do it purposefully. Maybe you like seeing him worked up.

“Oh, big girl thinks she’s calling the shots now, huh?” He says lowly, his blue eyes dark and glittering.

Steve grabs your hips and pushes back into you to make you cry out, then. He gets all close, nose at the nape of your neck and guides your hips to move over him, to take him in and out in quick, rough thrusts. “You’ve gotten quite the attitude lately, honey.” He murmurs, grunting slightly then, overcome with you, “God, and you’re still so damn tight.”

You squabble to hold onto Bucky, your brows pulled together and you kinda want to fight em, kinda want to squirm more and see if he’d force you down into Bucky’s arms and just—

You moan, a soft, hiccuped little sound because you’re trying to contain it.

“What are you gonna do, Stevie?” You whimper, trying to keep it together, “Punish me?”

The sudden sharp pull of your hair makes you inhale fast and hot, makes you dig nails into Bucky’s chest, who hisses slightly. His hips, still clad in boxers, desperately rise against nothing, almost against your own hips, but Steve had pulled you to your knees above Bucky to be so demanding of you.

“Maybe I should,” Steve says through his teeth, “Whad’ya think, Buck? Think she’d look good over my knees?”

Bucky almost groans at the thought, at the way Steve is pushing into you. He cradles your cheek with a broad palm, brushes his thumb over your lips, “If she keeps running this pretty little mouth—“ And he pushes it past the seam of your lips, now actually groaning when you eagerly take it into the warmth of your mouth.

He loses his words as your moan around his thumb, as Steve takes you the way he wants. In rough, desperate strokes. But it’s all love, the messy kind, the deeper, darker and more possessive kind. Still fills you with heat and adoration, amorous twists of your heart. Bucky marks up the front of your neck, your chest, and Steve settles marks into the back of your shoulders. He makes you his, makes you burst apart in a dizzying climax, pulls out and spills onto your back where Bucky immediately makes more of a mess with wandering hands.

“Bucky’s aching something fierce, baby.” Steve murmurs then and you can feel more than see Steve taking hold of Bucky through his boxers, who hisses at the touch, desperately pushing into Steve’s hand.

Your head collapses into the crook of Bucky’s neck. You’re already sore, hurting and throbbing from Steve, sticky and warm and exhausted from your fist peak. You nuzzle there, can feel when Bucky arches his hips up so Steve can strip him bare, return to fully grip Bucky and have him brokenly moan underneath you.

You end up on your side, leg hitched high over Steve’s waist where he holds you open now, your head on his chest, in his neck, as Bucky spoons you. He takes you from the side in those languid, surprisingly gentle thrusts.

He works you up all over again, fills you until there’s the building ache and pressure in you. Steve strokes your thigh, tells you that you’re good and sweet and his.

Theirs.

He plays with the golden necklace between your breasts as Bucky ruts into you in slow glides. He tries to take away the ache, let’s you and Steve kiss and make up and murmur to each other.

Bucky brings you to another peak, this one pulls you under its tide, down deep into the darkened depths of it.

It makes you cry, glittering tears that Steve kisses away. It makes you grip them tight and desperate and fall deeper into them, your heart tumbling and twisting and dropping. You feel air-borne, plummeting.

And you fall into it like an angel falls from grace, burning and bright, like a comet, a broken star, and fall deeper in love with them.

***

The Daily Bugle wants an interview with you; they have for weeks now and you finally have decided to indulge them. You can’t help the flutter of nerves as Wanda helps you get ready. She stands between your legs, finishing your makeup at the tall, ornate vanity in the bedroom.

“You’re awfully quiet.” She muses, dabbing your lips with red before she swipes at your bottom lip with her thumb.

Your eyes flicker up to her, lips parting. You shouldn’t, but a flash of heat pulses through you. Perhaps because Bucky and Steve are always parting your lips, and your cheeks flush at the thought.

Wanda smiles, mischievous, as if she knows maybe where your thoughts have wandered to, “Cat got your tongue?” She hums and you blink.

“N-no.” You say, “Just nervous for the interview.”

She brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear and you lean into the touch, “You’ll do wonderful. Just be yourself, everyone loves you.” She sighs, and you turn your lips to her wrist, playfully kiss her pulse there with smiling eyes.

Thankful, glittering, and hopeful.

***

The reporter comes to interview you at the mansion, where you’ll host him in the parlor. You’re dressed in dazzling, rosy red. It’s soft and blushing, vibrant for summer but not so much as to hurt the eyes. It’s darling and daring, the gold necklace hanging proudly around your neck, paired with gleaming pearls.

You greet him with warmth, allow him to take your photo on the settee with his large, heavy camera. You ask how you should pose, smile shyly at him in a way that already has his eyes softening on you.

He suggests, however you like! Whatever is most you! With a smile and twinkling eyes.

So you lean against the arm of it, cross your arms and let your head rest there, turning dreamy and soft eyes upward. Angelic and hazy, you gentle your features so you’re wistful and hopeful.

A burst of light, a curl of smoke, and the picture is taken.

You usher him to sit as well once his camera is away, offer him coffee you’d made and he accepts some.

You sit across from him then and he begins, with his notebook on his lap, pencil in hand;

“You’ve grown awfully popular in the past few weeks, did you expect it?”

You shake your head with a slight laugh, “No, not at all! I was only looking for work as a singer! I was thankful I was even hired.”

“But now you’re the It-Girl of New York. Everyone’s looking to you for fashion and trends. The talk of the town. Is it daunting?”

You draw in a slow breath, become aware that you haven’t even thought of it like that, that you’d been so preoccupied with the people in your life, with singing and performing and living, that you hadn’t paused to consider what the rest of the state thinks of you.

“I suppose, if I think about it.” You begin lightly, “But I’m not living for them, just for myself, so I haven’t thought long on it.”

“Do you pay much attention to your critiques?”

You blink, “I try not to. I’m very sensitive.” You say with a slight laugh and he can’t help but smile, too.

“Have you always been singing?” He then asks, steers the conversation into something more light hearted.

“Yes,” You respond with a smile, “I’ve always had music in me. And I think, recently, the worlds just made me want to sing.”

He smiles at your earnestness, “Would you ever act?”

“Sure.” You say with a responding smile.

“In those new films?”

You shake your head, “No, in theater! I like New York, I like how alive the stage is.”

“An ingénue, then!” He suggests and you laugh, which sounds like twinkling bells.

He turns to fun questions, then, entertained and enthralled by you, “Your favorite color?”

“Gold, for now.”

“Favorite flower?”

“Peonies! We’re having a bush of them placed in the back garden soon!”

“Favorite food?”

“Desserts! I have a horrible sweet tooth.”

“Do you have any pets? Would you like one?”

“I’d love a little, white kitten.”

And the interview presses onward, until you’re feeling a little drained from speaking with someone, but thankful it went so well. You walk him out to the driveway when you’re finished and he kisses your hand goodbye, watch as his car ambles away and out of the tall, iron gates of the estate.

A week later, the paper is printed, your photo on the cover and the words, written in bold above it;

THE PRINCESS OF NEW YORK DAZZLES

***

Steve and Bucky spend night upon night finally telling you and showing you the way the mob works, the way business goes. Natasha and Sam step in, too, guide you through it all carefully.

They tell you about all they give back to the community; they take care of it, of everyone they can. They’re not out to hurt anyone who isn’t out to hurt them. Their job isn’t to frighten. What they’re doing is illegal, but it’s not without cause. It’s not only for money. You meet other mobsters loyal to them and they all regard you with respect.

A plan is devised; you will act naive still, you will act foolish to keep yourself safe, but you’ll know everything.

There’s an argument about self defense; if you should be taught it or not.

Steve wishes you didn’t have to know it, but Natasha thinks it necessary. You want to know it. So she trains you when she can, uses your ballet training to teach you to be swift and strong and graceful.

It becomes increasingly important as you become bigger in New York, other mob bosses send you flowers as warnings to Steve and Bucky. You act foolish, gushing about how pretty they are, naive and innocent.

And finally, the biggest bouquet of roses you’ve ever seen is left backstage for you one night. They’re deeply red and white and fragrant, soft petals and their thorny undersides proudly on display. They take up an absurd, obnoxious amount of room. Nothing humble or simple about them, ridiculously elegant and large. A fragrant show of wealth. It’s almost silly.

But the card reads, in sprawling, messy letters;

To the Princess of New York. I’d love to get a drink with you sometime. On me.

Humbly,

Tony Stark

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #stucky x reader #stucky x female reader #stucky x y/n #stucky x you

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amillioninprizes · 5 years ago

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An entirely too long post on how to fix Veronica Mars

So, anyone who has followed this blog for any length of time knows: 1) What a massive Veronica Mars fan I was and 2) how distraught I’ve been over the most recent season that debuted on Hulu in July. I’ve been pretty angry about it since it dropped, but the first month after I was pretty occupied with real life stuff. Now that I’m more settled, I’ve found myself getting sadder and angrier over time with just how terrible S4 was and what an obvious fuck you to longtime fans it was. It feels dumb to be so upset over a tv show, but this show got me through a lot over the past 8 years, and I feel like it’s been taken away from me.

It’s anyone’s guess as to whether there will be a new season. Ideally it would end here with maybe an alternate ending filmed to avoid alienating fans further. On the one hand, the botched release, overwhelmingly negative response, and silence from the creators after initial interviews don’t look good for renewal chances. On the other hand, Hulu doesn’t have a lot of streaming hits, it probably did relatively decent numbers, and there are rumors floating around that its pickup chances look good. On a personal level, I hate the idea that this is where the legacy of Veronica Mars ends, while at the same time being extremely wary of what the creators have planned. I think a big part of the disappointment with S4 was that the movie and books set up what could have been some really interesting storylines and situations, all of which RT and co. squandered for cheap drama and to apparently turn the show into an entirely new vehicle; additionally I had hope that S4 would be a chance to rectify some problems the show has long had, but again, S4 exacerbated them. At this point I don’t expect anyone higher up in the creative process or at Hulu to give a fuck about the fans or making the show better as long as they hit streaming targets, but here are some suggestions:

Fire Rob Thomas

While he created the show, it’s become clear that not only has he lost touch with the audience and the original spirit of the character, he doesn’t seem too keen on putting much effort into writing the show (as I will discuss below). Then you have his clear misogyny: his views that women in relationships can’t be interesting, that what makes Veronica interesting as a character is her trauma and how much she can endure, and the fact that basically every female character in the history of the show has a history of sexual victimization. He thought that making the Mexican cartel hitmen “philosophical” was subverting expectations (which says a lot of what his expectations of Latinx characters are). Then this is the way he essentially exploited his long term fan base to earn a new season of the show, only to turn around and tell us that we don’t matter. From a business perspective alone keeping him doesn’t make sense; selling a streaming platform on your loyal fanbase and then proceeding to purposefully piss ~80% of them off would be pretty questionable to me as someone in charge. The sheer cruelty with which he treated not only the fans who have supported him for 15 years (I fucking used to liveblog iZombie y’all. iZombie!), as well as how he callously dismissed long time cast members in favor of celebrity guest stars should not be rewarded. He’s admitted in interviews that he would be ok with younger writers doing a reboot many years in the future; why not just let him have a producer credit and then hand the show over to someone who’s invested in making it good?

Put a woman in charge and diversify the writing staff

A big problem with a) Veronica’s characterization in S4 b) RT’s ideas about what makes female characters interesting c) the show’s long history of problematic treatment of sexual assault is that it comes from a man’s conception of the female experience. The Veronica showcased in S4 and that RT wants to write in the future is very much a male fantasy: hates marriage and children, traumatized, DTF, and is too cool for other women. RT stated in interviews that he wanted to show Veronica at a “crossroads” this season in a way he claimed had been shown for men but not women; many female viewers found this depiction to ring false (few women are spending their time fretting about how committing to marriage after five years in an established relationship will bar us from strange sex going forward). In addition to having RT at the helm, most of the show’s writing staff for the majority of its run has been white dudes, which doesn’t bode well for telling the story of a female PI in a diverse community in today’s political climate. Putting a woman in charge would hopefully help rectify these issues to make the character feel more true to life and put a damper on the misogynistic storytelling. The show has a natural candidate in RT’s second-in-command Diane Ruggiero-Wright (despite her problematic history, never forget #KeisterEggGate), who has admitted to not being able to watch the last episode. Jennifer Graham, who wrote both of the books, would also be a worthy addition to the writing staff; while the books had a mixed reception, most fans agree that she got Veronica’s character right. And with the show’s problematic historical treatment of minority characters, adding more POC writers going forward is also necessary.

Bring back Logan (alive)

You don’t have to be a LoVe shipper to recognize just how integral Logan has been since the inception of the show, not just as Veronica’s partner but as a character is his own right. Logan’s journey in many ways parallels Veronica’s, and shows a contrast in how different characters respond to similar trauma. The most critical plot line in the show’s history, the mystery of who killed Lilly Kane, simply doesn’t work without Logan’s importance to Veronica. RT and his defenders like to claim that Logan was holding her back from true growth, which is frankly bizarre as he is the only character to consistently challenge her, like when he tells her that she obviously isn’t happy this season. Additionally, Logan’s scenes this season were the lone highlight of what was otherwise a painful slog of a season. Of the people who have said they would watch a potential S5, a good portion are only interested because they believe that the ambiguity of the last 10 minutes of the season means he’s not really dead (despite what RT has said in interviews). Then there’s what Logan’s death does to Veronica’s character, effectively cutting off what would have been an interesting character arc and stagnating her forever. No matter how much they try to shove Leo the pedo creep and other milquetoast RT self-insert love interests on us, no one else can possible measure up to Logan’s level in terms of being able to match Veronica as a character, intellectually or as a result of shared history.

Plus, the fact that we haven’t had a Weevil/Logan interaction since S3 is a goddamn travesty and should be rectified immediately.

Bring back Veronica

As sad as I am about Logan’s death, for me the most upsetting aspect of S4 was the assassination of Veronica’s character. For many viewers (including myself), the character we saw Kristen Bell portray in S4 wasn’t Veronica Mars but a different character with the same name. Between her abusive behavior towards Logan, her general indifference to her father’s medical condition, her dismissal of Wallace, and her racism towards Latinx characters (using a kid’s lawyer to threaten deportation: not a good look!), she was lacking the marshmallow-y center that always balanced out the pricklier aspects of her character and made her compelling. This change in characterization was especially jarring given that she was not this way when we last saw her in the books, where she mused about having children and sent her half-brother Hunter to summer camp (side note, but does he even exist anymore?). Many of us who had grown up with Veronica were hoping to see her grow with us as a character; instead we got an extreme regression lower than we’ve ever seen her. It would be one thing if they were trying to depict a PTSD storyline, which would make sense given her background, but since her change in behavior is never addressed by the narrative, it just makes her look like a cruel asshole and makes it impossible to root for her. This is exacerbated by the fact that RT has made it clear he has no interest in portraying her inner life, as shown by his wanting to avoid showing her grief over Logan’s death because it would be a real downer compared to the entertaining but ultimately hollow banter and quips he wants to focus on. Veronica this season was also just plain dumb: you mean to tell me that the girl who nearly got killed by Aaron Echolls in her back seat wouldn’t think to check her backseat every time she gets in a car? (And let’s not even start with RT’s bizarre assertion in an interview that she apparently votes Republican). Not helping matters was Kristen Bell’s performance, which felt very flat for me this season compared to S1-3 and the movie; I don’t know if this was due to personal limitations or a reflection of the bad writing. Writers of future installments and KB herself would be wise to revisit S1, the movie, and the books to figure out what makes sense for Veronica’s character, leading me to my next point:

Get reacquainted with canon, develop a show bible, and hire a continuity director

This show has long had a problem with dropped plots, timelines, and continuity issues. Shelly Pomroy’s party has two happened either in the summer, or the fall. Then we have the movie paradox: Veronica graduated high school in 2006, which means her 10 year reunion should have taken place in 2016. The movie was released in 2014 and the books seem to keep to 2014 dates. Then S4 states that Keith’s movie accident took place in 2013, and mysteriously ages Veronica up to 35 when she should be 32 in 2019. Logan mentions an Aunt Naomi in S4--why didn’t she take care of him after Aaron was arrested (and what happened to Trina)? How the hell is Leo working as an FBI agent when he presided over the disappearance of the Lilly/Aaron tapes? Veronica is shown to be tentatively forgiving of Weevil taking the settlement from the sheriff’s department in Mr. Kiss and Tell, but is then shown to be extremely angry towards him for it in S4. This is just a small selection of the inconsistencies within the show. Plus there is the problem of repeated plot lines: Veronica rejects Leo in favor of Logan in S1, then rejects Leo in favor of Logan in Mr. Kiss and Tell, only for her to...reject Leo in favor of Logan in S4 (and RT says he wants to leave the high school plots behind). This sloppiness doesn’t bode well for a series that is supposed to be about mysteries, which require tight plotting. It would behove TPTB going forward to once and for all determine a timeline of Veronica’s life, keep a detailed record of past plot and character points, and have at least one person on staff who thinks to remember this stuff (RT notoriously has only a “solid, not spectacular” memory of the show, no matter what Kareem Abdul-Jabbar says).

Make an effort (and do your fucking research)

Moving on from continuity issues to more general problems with the laziness of RT’s writing. He has basically admitted that he doesn’t care much about facts or characterization when writing plots--he shoehorns details to fit the plot rather than have it evolve organically from the characters and prior canon. I know that when writing it’s often impossible to make every story detail 100% accurate, but the extent of RT’s sloppiness is alarming. This excellent Reddit thread details a lot of the problems with S4 in particular, but this has been a problem since S2. Did anyone ever understand exactly why the Fitzpatricks were invested in framing Logan for Felix’s death? In the movie, it makes no sense that if Cobb and co. wanted Carrie silenced, they would add the complication of framing Logan for her murder--given her history, it would have been a lot easier just to make it look like she had accidentally overdosed. Given his previous patterns of villain writing fans were able to guess the identity of the S4 bomber based on casting alone. The mysteries in both Mr. Kiss and Tell and S4 are both ripped from the headlines, which indicates that RT wants to turn VM into the next Law and Order. Meanwhile, he complained about how hard including Logan in the story in S4 was, while Logan arguably had the best lines and most interesting scenes this season--apparently when you put an effort into things, they work out! This laziness extends past storyline issues and into factual problems that detract from the quality of the plot. Longtime fandom pals are probably tired about hearing me go on and on about how there’s no way Aaron’s lawyers could have gotten Veronica’s medical records due to HIPAA laws. Logan’s career change from naval aviator to intelligence is highly unlikely (and unnecessary, given that they changed it only to fridge him at the end of the season). Meanwhile, I know fanfic writers who have spent hours on the phone with strangers in order to research what type of firearm would cause a specific type of bullet injury. It’s very puzzling to me that RT wants to take the show in the direction of being mystery-only when apart from that one time he is piss poor at writing mysteries and puts no effort into them. I shouldn’t have to tell television writers to, you know, do their job but this is what we’ve come to in 2019.

Know your audience

A majorly annoying thing about the promo for this season is how in every single interview Rob Thomas did he was always talking about how he wanted VM to be like other shows and movies: Fargo, True Detective, Game of Thrones, Chinatown (which is apparently the only noir movie he’s ever seen). The thing is, if I wanted to watch those shows, I would; I watched Veronica Mars specifically because I enjoyed its unique qualities, and I would say most fans agree. The general perception within the fandom is that with this season Rob Thomas seems to have been aiming to dump the old, majority female, CW fanbase in order to achieve what he perceives as a cooler prestigious male fanbase; the issue is, new people aren’t going to take up a show in its fourth season if they didn’t watch or didn’t like earlier seasons. Also, trying to write a prestigious show doesn’t make your show prestigious. Considering that based on anecdotal evidence most of the people who like S4 seem to be male, he may have succeeded in the first part of his aim. However, this majority female fanbase he was so willing to cast aside are the ones who have run fansites and rewatches during fallow times (i.e. between S3 and the movie and then between the books and S4), so drumming up interest among fans (and therefore streaming views) in the future may be a challenge. Plus, women are a better advertising demographic since they are more likely to be in charge of household purchasing decisions, so maintaining us as a fanbase makes business sense as well. He may have tricked enough people into watching S4 that S5 is given a go, but I wouldn’t be surprised if streams are weak beyond that. If the show is to succeed as a commercial endeavor, better to go with appealing to a known quantity than trying to make a generic show that very few people have expressed interest in watching.

Bring back the mystery of the week

This is a more minor thing I felt was missing from S4. I think after the criticism of S3 not having a season-long arc RT overcorrected in focusing on one mystery. However, the mystery of the week had the following benefits: 1) giving chances for the characters to interact and telling us more about them 2) helping to modulate the pace of the season-long arc. With better writing a season-long standalone mystery could maybe work, but in the case of S4 specifically the mystery was kind of dull and repetitive and could have stood to include a couple of diversions in the form of a smaller case here and there.

Re-evaluate the creators’ interpretation of the word “adult”

Much of the promo and reviews for this season noted the more “adult” content to be expected this season now that Veronica’s grown. Many fans hoped that meant seeing Veronica act like, you know, an adult with adult problems rather than a teenager less mature than the actual teenager she was. Unfortunately, the show’s interpretation of the word seems to be more in keeping with a television rating sense of the word--meaning sex, drugs, and gratuitous violence (But apparently not the word “fuck.”). Look, it was expected that as the show moved to a streaming service and given the overall dramatic scope that there would be an upgrade in some of this sort of content (and I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t looking forward to steamier LoVe moments, which were sorely overpromised), but the way it was included this season felt like RT and co. included this stuff just because they could and not to serve the storyline. For me, personally, the biggest example of this was Veronica’s drug use, which I know didn’t necessarily bother everyone. Given her history as the daughter of an alcoholic as well as someone who had been the victim of two roofie attacks, not to mention the fact that her character never seemed to be into partying, I found it very out of character (and book writer Jennifer Graham agrees). It felt like RT included this just bc they thought it would be funny to see Veronica on drugs without considering whether it made sense for her character. Also, were the beheadings strictly necessary? Plus there’s RT’s little temper tantrum over not being able to use curse words this season--they weren’t present in the original show, no one was going to miss them now, and the “cuss” thing was just annoying and reminiscent of The Good Place.

Dealing with a parent who maybe has dementia--that’s an adult storyline. Too bad RT ended it with a dumb excuse about “mixing meds” (another factual error! Pharmacy software would have caught it!) rather than actually exploring what it would mean for Veronica to see her father in decline and take over the family business (and give Rico Colantoni the exit he appears to want). This is the kind of adult content I would hope to see in future seasons.

Adult is not a synonym for “unrelentingly bleak” either. The original show, while dark, always had an element of hope that was completely removed from S4 (no matter what KB might claim). And would it have killed the writers to show Veronica wearing disguises and going undercover like she used to? There was nothing fun about this season (and no, I don’t count the multiple partying scenes as fun, more like sad).

Kill your darlings

It’s cliche, but it’s true. Another issue the show has long had is the writers keeping around characters or inserting jokes and references for their own personal amusement rather than for the story. The most notable example of this is the continued presence of Dick, a highly problematic character considering he pushed Beaver into the room with Veronica the night of Shelly Pomroy’s party, among a whole host of other racist, sexist, and generally obnoxious actions over the years. But because Ryan Hansen is so widely beloved among the cast and crew, so he stays. Then there’s the matter of the infamous Keister egg in 3x08, which the writers and KB have all expressed love for, despite the fact that said Keister egg is an example of sexual assault--which, even if the victim is a douchey fraternity president, is never funny.

Also the constant Big Lebowski references are tiring. Watch a new movie.

Improve Neptune’s gender ratio

Veronica Mars, despite having a female lead, has always been a male-dominated show; other than Veronica herself, the only consistent female character over the original show was Mac (and she didn’t even come back this season). This is unacceptable in 2019, for any show. The books introduced promising female characters in the form of Marcia Langdon and Petra Landros, but Marcia’s character was was watered down for S4 and Petra was nowhere to be found. Additionally, Veronica and Mac have always been written as “cool girls” who looked down on other women for their femininity, which isn’t a great message. Almost every other female character, even the innocuous Parker, is portrayed as somehow bad or incompetent. I would love nothing more than a season centered on the women of Neptune and their interactions with each other. While we’re at it, stop giving every woman on this show a background of sexual victimization.

Treat VM as an ensemble show, not a Kristen Bell vanity project

A major complaint from Burnt Marshmallows and S4 defenders alike was how little time was given over to the original core cast this season. While Veronica may be the protagonist, a large part of how the show became so beloved was her relationships with the other characters. Yet RT has decided that going forward VM will be a KB solo project, with her traveling town to town quipping and sleeping with strangers. This seems strange, given Kristen’s recent interviews talking about how difficult it is to shoot VM and how she never wants to be first on a call sheet ever again, not to mention how she asked for less screen time all the way back in S2, which resulted in the Weevil-Logan storyline, which was way more interesting than Veronica’s storylines during the first half of that season. (The traveling detective thing also seems weird considering that KB is pretty insistent on shooting in LA to be near her family.) Additionally, if this is truly the last season of VM with all the original characters, then no one got a proper sendoff.

I’m not sure how willing much of the cast will be to return for future iterations, given how uncomfortable many of them seemed during promo as well RT and KB’s treatment of them (insensitive at best, deliberately mean at worst) this season (shout out to Tina Majorino for recognizing what a shit show this was going to be), but bringing back all the original characters into the fold and giving them significant storylines would go a long way to mending fences with fans, improving the show from a character arc perspective, and would also give KB the break she apparently wants.

Recourt the fanbase

What has VM always been renowned for above all else? It’s incredibly loyal fandom which not only got it renewed twice during its original run but also put up their own money to get the movie made--I know many people who donated when they really couldn’t afford to. RT basically owes the last 6 years of his career to VM fans--the success of the Kickstarter arguably got him the iZombie show running gig, and the fourth season likely wouldn’t have even happened if not for it. Thus, the blatant cruelty and disregard with which RT and KB have treated fans during the promotion of S4 has been incredibly insulting and hurtful; I still can’t fathom what in the world possessed RT to think that throwing away this 15-year relationship was a good idea. It’s not a good sign when the 2 fansites most active during the post-movie period (VMHQ and VM Confessions) cease operations in the wake of S4, and when at least 3 out of 8 board members of the oldest running fan group, Neptune Rising (who were dormant during the post-movie period but played a critical role during earlier fan campaigns and in the S4 promo) resign. A fandom this loyal that was betrayed will not stand idly by if the S5 RT wants to make goes ahead; given the number of tweets the official Hulu VM account has had to delete in the wake of S4 due to the overwhelmingly negative response as well as the controversy over editing out Logan from S4 promos, I imagine that S5 will be a PR nightmare. Even if future seasons are amazing the trust can probably never be fully repaired, but it would be helpful for RT (or fingers crossed, a new show runner) and KB (as star and EP) to go overboard in reaching out to fans and at least admitting they made a misstep with the entirety of S4. Back in the day, the old Mars Investigation fansite was invited to set to conduct interviews; maybe do that again. Also someone should get KB some sort of VM fandom-fluent media trainer because I don’t think she has conducted a single interview during her entire stint on the show that didn’t anger fans (it might help if she actually bothered to watch the show).

Map out an endgame

Look, this can’t go on forever. As long as RT keeps leaving every installment open ended with the hopes of maybe getting renewed again five years down the line, the story is going to keep running into the issues the movie and S4 faced with having to shoehorn the characters into nonsensical plot lines to reconcile those endings and deal with actor availability issues. Either plot another 2-3 seasons to wrap the show up with a satisfying conclusion, or map out a greater timeline of Veronica’s life with spots where a mini series or movie here and there could fit in.

#Veronica Mars #still angry #mainly written for personal catharsis #need to stop being angry about this and focus more on studying synaptic transmission #Burnt Marshmallow #we use to be fans

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