#please stop showing your entire asses when you try to post something woke and end up just posting racist stereotypes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ashdumpsterpile · 3 years ago

Note

Ohmygod YES Susan Pevensie is awesome please talk to me about Susan i want to know everything you have to say

Literally THANK YOU for asking me this bc Susan Pevensie is a character I never get asked about and I have So Many Opinions.

I'm going to start by saying that Susan used to be my least favorite character in the series. This goes for the books and the movies. Some of it was for personal reasons--she reminds me of a couple of annoying ppl I know irl--but it was also bc I watched Prince Caspian which shoehorned her into a relationship with Caspian which I hated.

HOWEVER. I ended up rethinking this position after interacting with Susan fans and realizing that there are so many wonderful things to love about her!

(putting under the cut bc this got long)

Things Ash Loves About Susan Pevensie

Aight I'm not going to do a formal analysis yet on her, but instead rant about some of the unrelated things I adore about Susan Pevensie.

Susan the Archer

Look we all love archery here. I don't have anything more to say.

Okay, I actually do have more to say. I love the fact that Susan is a complete badass with the bow. You get the general impression that she's one of the royals in charge of public relations, traditions, foreign policy, etc. and yet she's the most competent archer in the series. One of the few things I liked about the movies is how they didn't downplay this. They actually let her be a badass and show off her skills.

Also the part where she kicks Trumpkin's ass was awesome.

Susan the Gentle

Susan being the most passive Pevensie was something I definitely underappreciated as a teenager. I think my non-ability to see past "I'm not like other girls" narrative and the combination of Susan being described as the most traditionally feminine woman in the Narnia series is what initially turned me off from her.

HOWEVER, now it's one of my favorite attributes! I love that Susan is a badass and the most beautiful woman in Narnia. She has hair down to her feet, every man and woman in the kingdom want to fuck her, and she's still a fucking badass who will not hesitate to kick your ass.

Susan the Sister

Most of my thoughts of Susan as an older sister mostly stem from my own personal headcanons, but she is an awesome sister to her siblings. She's Peter's voice of reason, Edmund's sass partner, and Lucy's big sister.

Susan the Mom-Friend

She is a literal mother-figure for Corin.

"[...] the most beautiful lady he had ever seen rose from her place and threw her arms round him and kissed him, saying: "Oh Corin, Corin, how could you? And thou and I such close friends ever since thy mother died. [...]"

-The Horse and His Boy, 33-34

Most everything I have to say about this ventures into headcanon territory, but I love the idea of Susan basically adopting Corin after his mom dies. The way she trusts Cor--who she thinks is Corin in this chapter--is really sweet and I wish we could've seen more of that relationship.

Susan the Flawed

Something I notice from the fandom is a lot of people who hate Susan tend to because of her flaws. On the other hand, most Susan stans like to wave away these flaws and blame C.S. Lewis for being misogynistic or Aslan for being a "cruel god" and ignore the fact that she is a deeply flawed person.

Susan gets something of a "reverse redemption arc" in The Chronicles of Narnia. This makes her not only a fascinating foil to Edmund--as both are analytical, logical people--but an interesting character by herself.

She starts out in TWW as very skeptical of Narnia and it's whole deal and also very condescending to Lucy throughout. She ultimately does admit that Lucy was right and does get on board with the whole prophecy at the same time Peter does, and ends the book being crowned "the Gentle Queen."

In The Horse and His Boy, she has a very interesting dynamic with Edmund and in even more interesting relationship with Rabadash. They don't even interact on-page with each other, but it's highly implied that she was interested in him when he was a guest in Narnia. His behavior obviously changed when she visited him in Tashbaan, but you have to wonder what their dynamic was like before for her to travel all the way to his home when relations between the countries were strained at best.

Prince Caspian is where the cracks start showing through. Susan has lived an entire life as an adult in Narnia, gets thrown back to England with her siblings, and is yet again in Narnia as a child. This book is what really emphasizes her one fatal flaw: convenience.

(Put a pin in that thought, I'll get back to it.)

Susan denies once again that Lucy saw something that the rest of them can't seen. She continues this narrative until every other sibling finally acknowledges Lucy in the right and only then does she apologize.

The last mention of Susan is in The Last Battle, where all of her flaws rise up against her in the worst way possible. I have a lot of controversial opinions on this that I'm going to address later, but I just want to say that Susan's reverse-redemption arc is something I actually like about her.

(There is also evidence that Susan does get a full redemption arc, just as Edmund and Eustace did, but C.S. Lewis was pretty much done with The Chronicles of Narnia at the point and instead encouraged fans to write their own version of how that went down.)

Okay, back to convenience being Susan's fatal flaw. So the one thing that comes up time and time again in the series is that Susan is very focused on material comforts. I believe it's implied that she's vain, and it's canonical that her own personal comfort spurs her to make decisions.

"[...] I really believed it was him — he, I mean — yesterday. When he warned us not to go down to the fir wood. And I really believed it was him tonight, when you woke us up. I mean, deep down inside. Or I could have, if I'd let myself. But I just wanted to get out of the woods and — and — oh, I don't know [...]"

Prince Caspian, 81

Prince Caspian has the strongest examples of Susan doing this, but certainly there's evidence elsewhere. There are a lot of fans who are distressed by this, claiming that Aslan and the others are too hard on her and shouldn't judge.

Honestly, I like that she's written with this flaw. Not only is it very relatable--(my own personal comfort and convenience is something I highly prioritize too)--but it humanizes a character who otherwise is ridiculously op and basically the Helen of Troy of the series. It may sound like I'm using this as an excuse to rant, but I really wouldn't have her any other way.

Susan As Portrayed by Anna Popplewell

Movie!Susan is a fucking delight.

She's sarcastic and badass and awesome and I could spend hours heaping praise on Anna's acting and her portrayal of Susan, but I can already tell that this post is going to be long so, I'll just stop here.

(10/10 want to be stabbed by her tho.)

Personal Headcanons

Let's talk about my fanon thoughts. I have many.

Susan is Aro

There's canonical evidence for this! Susan is a character who is heavily pursued by suitors everywhere, and even lets herself be courted by many of them, but chooses not to settle down. Even when she gets back to England and is described as only having interest in parties and material things, boys aren't mentioned.

I like to think that in The Horse in His Boy Susan was interested in Rabadash at first because he was a brilliant conversationalist. Nothing she says about him implies romantic interest, before and after she realizes the truth of his intentions.

Susan and Edmund Were Best Friends

This might be my love for The Horse and His Boy showing itself, but I think Susan and Edmund were thrown into circumstances where they interacted the most with each other.

Edmund is the ruler in charge of politics. Susan is the ruler in charge of Cair Paravel's public image. I imagine they spent time as ambassadors to other countries and planning royal functions.

They're also the most level-headed and logical out of their siblings, so they probably found a lot in common.

Susan Fancast

I literally just said I loved Anna's potrayal of Susan's (and I love what they gave us of older Susan too in LWW!), but I read the books in 2008 and my parents didn't let me see the movies bc I was like...nine years old and they thought it would be too scary.

So I had to headcanon my own interpretations.

Queen Susan the Gentle:

For some reason Merlin wasn't too scary for me to watch and I fell in love with Katie McGrath in like. Two episodes so. (On an unrelated note, I also fancast Bradley James as Peter at the time.)

Anyway, fanon Susan is basically Morgana Pendragon pre-evil arc. Sassy as hell, hot as fuck, and can kick your ass.

Unpopular Opinions

Yeah, feel free to skip this part if having controversial fandom opinions is a deal breaker for you.

The Problem With Susan Isn't Actually A Problem

I'm about to start so much discourse in the Narnia fandom, but C.S. Lewis's choices with her in The Last Battle weren't misogynistic. Bear in mind, I'm not saying that all of his writing choices in the series were A++ or excusing away certain racist/sexiest bits, but it's honestly baffling to me that people are so up in arms over Susan's exclusion in the final book.

So the part that everyone loses their shit over is as follows:

"My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia."

"Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'"

"Oh Susan!" said Jill, "she's interested in nothing now-a-days except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up."

"Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."

The Last Battle, 83-84

There's a lot to unpack here and I first want to say that everyone's opinion on this part, no matter how different than mine, is valid. I'm going to be quoting some other ppl's opinions on here and by no means am I bashing them. I just want to address my feelings on the matter and the best way to do that is to cite the thoughts of ppl who have opposing ideas.

Here are some arguments on Tumblr I've heard regarding "The Problem of Susan":

"How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn't deserted Susan? [...] What if we didn't tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn't have again."

"Narnia is filled with metaphors (often not very subtle ones) that are supposed to teach us how to be, and the most glaring one for any young girl to absorb is that it's okay to be a girl like Lucy, unthreatening and cheerful and valiant and faithful, but to be a girl like Susan gets you punished - in fact, you aren't just punished, you're destroyed."

"why do we call it ‘the problem’ where’s the problem about a young woman dealing with her trauma and choosing her own path, actively making the choice to keep living and to stay and to carve a life out in England when her siblings couldn’t? what is the problem about susan forgetting to somehow cope with what she’s experienced? why is it ‘the problem of susan’ that she recontextualised her faith?"

And then there's JK Rowling who said this:

There comes a point where Susan, who was the older girl, is lost to Narnia because she becomes interested in lipstick. She's become irreligious basically because she found sex. I have a big problem with that.

It's weird how I'm still finding new ways to hate JKR in the year 2021. Again, there is absolutely zero implication that Susan had sex when she came back to England. ZERO. Did she actually read the books? IDK. If someone shares this opinion pls reply with actual canonical evidence.

Back on topic, I'm a firm believer of death of the author and interpreting art via your own experiences. Which is why I'm also going to share my own interpretation by saying y'all are wrong.

Susan Pevensie was not abandoned by Narnia. She was not barred from Narnia because she is traditionally feminine or because she "owned her sexuality" (another opinion I didn't have time to condense down for this post) or because she recontextualized her faith or even because she deserved to be punished.

I also fail to see how Susan recontexualized her faith, as the entire point of it all is that she has none. Bringing this back to Susan's fatal flaw (personal convenience/material comforts), her prioritizing herself over her own faith is the reason she is "no longer a friend of Narnia." Not...whatever fanon y'all are imposing on her character.

Susan is not being punished for liking lipstick and looking pretty. Susan's not even being punished. Y'all read Neil Gaiman's The Problem of Susan and forgot it wasn't canon.

There are many reasons Susan is not in Aslan's Country (one of them being that she's not actually dead yet), but the main one has to do with this:

"[...] But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

Voyage of the Dawn Treader, 215-216

Yeah, okay that's why Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia. The implication when the Pevensies are told that they can no longer enter Narnia is that they are to find Aslan in other places. Susan doesn't do this, instead choosing to focus her life on material things. It isn't the lipstick, it's that she only wants the lipstick.

Susan Had Sex In The Books

Oh and not in the context y'all are thinking. (Again, there are no implications that Susan was barred from Narnia for having sex or that she had sex when she came back to England.)

So there's actual canonical evidence that Susan and Rabadash had a sexual relationship. Sort of.

"What think you? We have been in this city fully three weeks. Have you yet settled in your mind whether you will marry this dark-faced lover of yours, this Prince Rabadash, or no?"

-The Horse and His Boy, 35

Edmund calls Rabadash her lover. Not her suitor. I don't know if the word had a different meaning in 1954, but it feels like C.S. Lewis is saying that they're fucking. I'm not really happy with the idea of Susan sleeping with an abuser, but really proud of her for Getting Some as a woman born in a time period where having premarital sex was a big no-no.

This also invalidates the weird opinion going on that Susan was barred from Narnia because she had sex.

Suspian Is The Worst

I haven't really talked about Movie!Susan much, but as long as we're talking unpopular opinions, it's worth noting that I hate Suspian. Some of it is the "Susan is Aro" headcanon screaming inside of me, but it's also the fact that it's written poorly, does nothing interesting for either character and generally comes across as awkward.

I feel like they were trying to make Prince Caspian sexy and relevant to teens. It came across as super heteronormative and unnecessary.

It also gets really really weird bc the next movie then gives Caspian and Edmund mad chemistry and we're all just like........ok.

Final Thoughts

Susan may not be my favorite character in the series, but she's grown on me over the years. I have many issues with fanon interpretations of her--which definately fueled some of my disdain for her initally--and I don't identify as a Susan Apologist.

I do however adore Susan and have many headcanons for her not mentioned here. I love reading fanfic, writing fanfic and meta, and generally having conversations about her and would love to talk more about it.

I welcome criticism (CONSTRUCTIVE) and conversation on all of my opinions and observations. Please drop into my inbox. <3

#susan pevensie #the chronicles of narnia #the problem of susan #narnia #meta #narnia meta #susan meta #ash does fandom #ash does meta

75 notes · View notes

justaluckybitch · 4 years ago

Text

Private Lessons (NSFW)

Rating: +18 (Explicit) / Smut

Relationships: Nick Jonas/Reader

Original Post (Part of my “Me & Mr. Jonas” collection)

Notes: English is not my first language so if you see any grammatical errors please tell me in the comments.

If you have requests just leave in the comments.

I woke up early as usual, went to shower and get ready for school.

I left the bathroom wrapped in a towel and opened the curtains in my room, when I did that I came across someone at the window next door. It was a man, he was looking at the street, but when I opened the curtains he looked directly at me.

He was very handsome, he wore only sweatpants, showing off his nice and hot body. He was holding a mug that looked like it had coffee inside.

He smiled and nodded. I nod and prepared to close the curtains again and get dressed, I was still wearing only a towel. That was when the idea of having that man looking at me seemed interesting. I bit my lip, turned my back to the window and dropped the towel, looked over my shoulder and he was still there, smiling. After that I left the window and went to get dressed. When I came back he was gone. I didn't know who that man was, but I loved the idea of his window being in front of mine.

I went downstairs, had coffee and went to school.

The day passed normally until the last class arrived. The history class.

When the teacher went through the door, my heart raced, it was the guy at the window and I could not believe my eyes. He was incredibly sexy wearing a blue button-down shirt and a black tie.

"Good morning, class. I am Professor Nicholas Jonas and I am your new history teacher. Professor Andersson needs to be away for health problems and I will stay with you guys for the rest of the year... so, let's introduce ourselves, I want to know the name of each one of you."

I would be one of the last and I was nervous, time passed quickly and my turn came, I took a deep breath and said my name, he smiled and the presentations continued.

The class was really good, Mr. Jonas was a really great teacher, he avoided exchanging many looks with me all the time, I, on the other hand, could not take my eyes off him.

When the class came to an end everyone stood up ready to leave and I would try to leave without attracting the slightest attention, but he called me.

"Miss Y/L/N I would like to talk to you about your grade in the last semester."

I froze, I couldn't move, everyone left and there I was alone, standing in front of the desk of Nicholas Jonas, the man who saw me naked that morning.

"What would you like to talk to me about, Mr. Jonas?" I asked, praying it was just about my grades, even though I knew it wouldn't be just that.

"I would like to talk about your grade, you got a C in the last test and I think you can be much better than that" he said and for a moment I was relieved.

"How do you think I can improve this?" I asked innocently.

"I could give you some private lessons, since we are neighbors" he smiled and my face flushed.

"I'm going to talk to my parents, Mr. Jonas"

"Okay ... But I have a request ..." he said seriously "I would like that in our private lessons, you would dress the same way you were dressed this morning" he bit his lower lip.

"I'm sorry about that ..." I started, but he interrupted me.

"No need to apologize ..." he stood up "I really enjoyed the view ..." he stood beside me "do you always show off like that to your neighbors?"

"No ..." my cheeks were on fire, as well as my whole body "I never did that, I didn't know you were my new teacher".

He smiled even more "It was a beautiful surprise, I moved a few days ago, my wife is traveling... We have a very big bed, I would love to teach you some lessons in there".

"Mister Jonas, I don't think that's right" I tried to hide that although I was nervous, I was also loving the situation.

"Do you think it's right to leave me like this?" He took my hand and placed it on the large bulge in his pants, holding my hand, rubbing the entire length. He whispered in my ear "I know you are a little bitch... who likes to show off to married men... I don't know how many guys you've already teased, but I'm not gonna stay just looking... I'll fuck you right here and right now" He kissed my mouth, his hands slid down to my ass, while one of mine was still stroking his member over his pants.

"No... please, Mr. Jonas... stop..." I spoke between kisses. Trying to look like a good girl. But he knew that I was not.

"Yeah..." he turned me around, leaving me with my back to him, his erection rubing my ass and his hands were now on my breasts "Pretend you're not a whore who loves this" he pulled my skirt up and lowered my panties and then slapped my ass followed by a kiss "So beautiful... I want this ass every day..." He turned me over again, kneeling in front of me. He looked up, our eyes met and he smiled, ran a finger over my vagina, showed that it was wet "Do you know what this is? Proof that you're dying to be fucked" he licked his finger and stuck it in me, started to finger me, lick, suck and bite my clitoris. I moaned softly, threw my head back, feeling an incredible sensation, that man knew what he was doing.

He stopped for a moment "You won an A for having the hottest pussy I have ever tasted" I smiled and he went back to work. It didn't take long for me to feel my body shake, it was an orgasm coming, right in the mouth of Mr. Jonas, who licked everything and smiled.

"A + actually" he said making me laugh, got up and kissed me, sharing my own flavor with me.

He broke the kiss and stepped away a little, taking off his tie and tossing it on the desk, starting to unbutton his shirt then, revealing his body that was even hotter looking closely.

"You look good, you taste good, now let's see if you have a good mouth" he took off his shirt, tossing it next to his tie and took off his pants, revealing his big hard dick.

I knelt down, took it with one hand and licked the tip, looked at him, our eyes fixed on each other, I started to masturbate, he opened his mouth slightly, letting out some low moans.

I started to suck and lick his dick, he grabbed my hair, holding my head, while his cock went in and out of my mouth, he fucked my mouth for a few minutes, groaning like an animal.

Soon he stopped and pulled me up.

"I can't take it anymore, I want that pussy now" he laid me on the desk, spread my legs and stood between them, he was so handsome and sexy, it was the vision of paradise, he rubbed his cock at my entrance a few times, making me moan and be more anxious to have him inside me.

"Do you want this?... Do you want my big cock inside your little pussy?" I could only moan and shake my head saying yes.

He walked away to get something in his pants pocket, I saw that it was a condom.

He ripped the package with his teeth and covered his dick with the condom.

"Ready?" I nodded and he started to force his dick into my entrance, it was big and it took a few tries, but he was soon inside me.

He leaned over and kissed me, starting to fuck me slowly, his hands tightened on my breasts as his thrusts started to get stronger.

The only sound I could hear was our moans and the sound of our bodies colliding.

"Tell me who's your man, his owner..."

He looked at me, his eyes on fire, groaning like an animal, slapped my ass and repeated "Who's your man?".

"Y-you, Mr. Jonas"

"Who?" He asked again, this time louder.

"You, Mr. Jonas"

"Who?" Louder.

"You're my man, Mr. Jonas" I screamed.

"Yeah... He turned me around, bending me on the desk and penetrating me again.

He pulled my hair and slapped my ass, then he pulled me, bit my ear, thrusting harder and faster, one of his hands slid up to my neck, squeezing it and choking me slightly. The other hand went down to my clit, rubbing it while he didn't stop a single second of fucking me.

Soon I shivered again, feeling a mind-blowing wave of pleasure all over my body, it was another orgasm that came while I was screaming his name.

It didn't take long for him to moan loudly announcing that he was coming.

We both stood there for a minute with our sweaty bodies stuck together.

He kissed my shoulder and walked away, taking off the condom, taking care not to discard it in the classroom's trash, but wrapping it in paper to be thrown away in the street trash.

He came over and kissed me again, we got dressed and he gave me a ride home. My parents worked all day, so they didn’t suspect anything, nor the fact that Mr. Jonas always started showing up at home when they weren’t there and I going to his house when his wife wasn’t, after all, he was mine favorite teacher.

#Jonas Brothers #jonas #nick jonas #nick jonas smut #nick jonas fanfic #nick jonas imagine #imagine #smut #fanfic #dirty fanfic #dirty imagine #nick jonas sexy #nick jonas hot

176 notes · View notes

jaedore · 4 years ago

Text

BINDING BONDS | 10

< prev | next >

parings: jung jaehyun x reader

genre: ceo!au, arranged marriage!au, angst, asshole Jaehyun, swearing

[ ☽ smut (suggestive) | ◇ angst (belittling, swearing) ]

note: BB deals with themes of mental and physical abuse, which can be upsetting for some readers. If you feel uncomfortable reading these types of plots, you are advised to not continue. MINORS, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, but I advise you to skip the sexual parts.

[ 8k words ]

You can feel the Spring breeze settle on your skin, the cooling wind planting goosebumps on your naked back as it brushes the blankets from your body. You reach for Jaehyun and his warmth, but the familiar body isn’t next to yours. Lifting your heavy head, you search for him in the room to only find him leaning against the balcony, overlooking the city below his feet. Putting on one of his t-shirts, you walk to him and put your arm on his back, rubbing circles on it. Jaehyun’s gaze continues to stick to the city. To you, it looks like he didn’t get a lick of sleep, dark eye bags painted his face, restlessness coating his eyes, his face showed no emotion.

“Good morning,” you smile. You comb your fingers through his hair hoping to alleviate whatever weighed his mind, “you okay?”

Jaehyun slightly nods to you, his head falling before he turned to face you, “yeah,” he said, “let’s get going or we’re going to be late.”

With that, Jaehyun turned around to head back to your room. Confusion blurs your mind as you watch his figure pick up the discarded clothes from last night. Why was he acting like this? Usually, he’d still be in bed and holding you in his arms, being all lovey-dovey. Was it something that you did last night that he didn’t like? Were you giving too much? Or too little? Did he just not get enough sleep? Nothing but the latter would answer your question after seeing him rub his face.

“Do you want to go grab breakfast before we go? We have a bit of time,” you glanced at the clock.

“No, actually. I’d like to get home as quickly as possible,” Jaehyun responded, not giving you a glimpse as he shoves clothes into his luggage, his hands tightening in stress as he didn’t bother to fold them but instead bunch them in his fists.

“Okay,” you drag out, “are you busy at work?” You asked. You wanted to know if something came up from work that he suddenly had to attend, but that thought disappeared as Jaehyun peered at you with a sliver of frustration.

“Yes, please. Let’s go home.”

You two board the plane, sitting next to each other not peeping a word. The tension between you two was so heavy that even the plane itself would struggle to cut through it. You sat still in your seat focused on your tablet as you did some work, but you also didn’t speak to him, afraid that you’d set something off. And Jaehyun didn’t say anything to you, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

You’re only married to her for business, you think this is all happy and fairytale-like? That everything’s all lovey-dovey just because you’re married upon a contract? No, I bet she doesn’t love you, she probably hates you because of you who are. A dirty, scathing, slug who only clings to the Jung name. Get your head out of your ass. The words his father spat at him echoed in his mind, it was like he etched his own words into Jaehyun’s brain, making sure they’d stick there.

He turned to you, who fell fast asleep, your head hanging over your tablet. Like second nature, Jaehyun gently supported your head until it was up against the headrest, he knows you’d complain about the pain if you stayed in that position. You looked so graceful, harmonious, you are everything he’s ever wanted but he knows he’s far from perfect. Jaehyun knows that you are perfect, that you deserve someone perfect, someone better than him. Who was broken, unfixable, and cold. Last night was the last night you were going to have each other, for he was convinced that there will no longer be a moment to cherish, a moment to be intimate, a moment to love. You were too good for him and he had been too selfish.

When he saw you about to wake, Jaehyun snapped his head back to the window, waiting for the sight of home to desperately reappear and for things to go in the way they were meant to be, just like how it was in the beginning. Maybe it was always supposed to be like that.

Perhaps you were tired and drained, or possibly just sleeping to avoid conversing with Jaehyun. You knew he was still frustrated so you didn’t think it’d be the right time to talk about your trip, you hoped you could reflect on that with him when he’s ready. You genuinely enjoyed every bit of it and you have hope that he did too.

It’s 5 AM when you arrive back home, the dark night sits upon you two like the mood. Not a word has been exchanged since this morning before boarding and the feeling that you did something that wasn’t pleasant to him still lingered in your mind.

“Are you okay?” You asked, your body shifted in the passenger seat towards his.

“I’m perfect.”

“You haven’t talked to me ever since last night.”

“I’m just tired, the time zone has me all messed up,” Jaehyun responds, his voice calm.

Bullshit. You thought. “What happened at work? You said it was because of work that’s got you frustrated.”

“I fixed it on the plane. We just had to seal a hard deal, but everything should be fine now.” he keeps his gaze on the road, but you saw the way his fist tightened against the steering wheel like he was trying to refrain himself from saying something.

You reached for his free hand that rested on the console, “you know you can tell me anything,” you caressed it.

“I don’t want to talk about y/n, I had a hard day today.” He responds in a calm tone, but it’s enough to slightly set you off in a bad mood because you were just trying to be considerate.

You don’t bother to respond, so you pay no mind to him the entire ride back home. You two are quiet in your seats again, letting the hum of the car above the pavement take over the silence.

The sun begins to rise as you two safely arrive home, ready to sleep through the day hopefully to prepare yourselves for the following weekday. You two are quick to shower and change and settle for bed. You wait up for Jaehyun as he finishes doing his nightly routine, gazing at his reflection in the mirror of the bathroom you try to read his expression as to what is really wrong with him. Jaehyun wasn’t acting normal to you, but maybe he was telling the truth, that it is the jetlag and he’s just had a really hard day.

Jaehyun glances at your posture, reading how your arms are crossed and your forehead is creased, it definitely lets him know that you want to talk, but your features soften when you catch him glancing at you. Your arms fall to your sides and you turn away from him, covering yourself under the sheets as you let out a disappointed sigh. In the flash of a second, he knows that you’re disappointed. Were you disappointed in yourself? Or in the tension between you two and his lack of care to communicate to you?

Quietly, Jaehyun crawls beside you, mimicking your actions, his back facing you like there was a wall between and no one dared to knock it down, for who knows what chaos it would bring.

The next couple of mornings brought coldness to your body. Every morning when you woke up, he was already gone and out the door, not a text was sent, not a note was posted. Nothing. Like he just vanished in thin air until he appeared with the moon when you were deep asleep.

You went to bed every night alone, too tired to wait up for him. You tried to talk to him, but it’d always just result in him brushing you off like the dust on the picture of you two in Paris you gifted him. Even if you did talk to him, it was short and general. When you tried to ask him what was wrong, you’d apparently press the wrong buttons and an argument would ensue.

One night you grew out of his silent treatment. As soon as he stepped through your shared apartment, the time had already reached midnight. Jaehyun walked in, surprised to see you sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in your hands as you gazed at the lights that protruded through the night sky. The image of you before him made him long for you. He knew you were upset, he could tell in the glint of your eyes when your head turned to the sound of his steps.

“I didn’t think you’d still be up.”

“I wanted to see you for once,” you respond.

“Look,” Jaehyun breathes, “it’s been busy at work.”

“I can imagine-” you scoff, “-but do you think I haven’t been busy either? I still try to make time for us, but every time I do, it’s like you don’t want it.”

“That’s not true. You know that.”

“But do I Jaehyun? You’ve been ignoring me for days! Every moment I talk to you, we always get on each other’s nerves and end up arguing. I haven’t even held you since we came back home. Please, please just tell me what’s going on.” You plead at the man in front of you, whose expression hasn't changed. You’re convinced that Jaehyun has turned off every emotion in his body, you’ve seen the cold, expressionless look too many times to count.

“It’s just a bad time right now at work,” Jaehyun defends.

“Yeah, I get it, everything is because of work. I got it,” you sigh, clearly too tired of the same answer over and over again. Perhaps it was a sign for you to stop.

You stand from the couch, legs stiff from sitting so much, and you walk up to your room. Jaehyun doesn’t call after you. You even turn around to see him still sitting in the same position, his body facing where you once were. You wanted him to say your name, to run to you and envelop you, telling what was truly wrong. When the silence reached your ears, with sad eyes you left him in the living room until he was ready to come to bed.

You don’t know when Jaehyun came, but when you felt the mattress dip behind you, you had a sudden urge to turn around and hold him in your arms, but when you turned around, you saw the well-known image of his back facing you. It took all of you to stop when you found yourself shifting your body towards him. You wrapped your arms around his large frame, sniffing the back of his shirt, inhaling the scent you missed every time you held each other. Leaning your head on his sturdy back, you heard his steady heartbeat. How peaceful it sounded.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but please, let me know. I’m here for you, Jae. Please, please talk to me. I just miss you, I love you. I don’t know what happened that made us like this but please,” you beg, clutching onto him tightly as you prevent yourself from crying. You held him as tight as you could, afraid that if you loosen your hold, he’d slip right through your fingers like sand.

Little did you know, Jaehyun heard you, he heard your sniffles and your broken voice. He knows you’re hurt because of him, but he also knows that this is for the better. It’s far better than if he were to completely give himself to you and let you do the same. So answering with silence, Jaehyun shifted away from your hold, leaving you alone and cold for the night.

When he moved away from your body, you felt your heart clench. Your chest heaved and quiet tears streamed down your face as the cold air hit your chest. His silence and action threw answers that confirmed you were his problem. With a small part chipping from your heart, you turned your back to him, a regular body position you grew accustomed to. Minutes onto your side, you quietly turn back to check if Jaehyun was sleeping. His soft snores and long breaths proved your thoughts and with silent steps, you left.

You weren’t as silent as you thought, though. Jaehyun felt you leave, he heard you collect your things, shut the door, and exit the apartment. A big part of him wanted to sprint to you, but the other restrained him, bound him to the bed like the stars to the sky.

Exiting the parking garage, you drove off into the night. You had no idea where to go at this time of the night, but the only person you wanted to see right now was your best friend. You took out your phone and dialed Haewon’s number, clinging to the hope that she’d pick up at 2 AM.

After a couple of rings, the familiar voice rang through the line, “y/n? Why are you calling this late? Are you okay?” the grogginess could be heard in her voice and at once you felt bad for waking her up at such an inconvenient time.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Can I sleep at your place tonight?”

“Of course. Text me when you’re here.”

Haewon kindly offered you the other side of her bed, since it was big enough for you two and possibly even somebody else. The soft duvet fell over your figure as you wrapped yourself in the nostalgic blankets, remembering the feeling from when you were young and would always have sleepovers with her. What the old times brought.

As always, Haewon was kind in letting you lay in peace before speaking. You were a composed person always with organized thoughts, but how come the expression across your face contradicts that?

“We’re fighting again.”

Haewon’s head shoots to you with wide eyes, your face still facing the ceiling, “are you serious?”

You nod to her answer, not knowing what other information to provide to her that won’t make you break down in tears. You were always horrible at holding your emotions in for such a long time that the tears brimmed and streamed down the corners of your eyes, wetting the side of your face.

“Oh, honey,” Haewon coos you as she wraps her arms around you, giving you the warmth of her hug and the comfort in her touch as she rubs circles on your back, letting you cry out everything you’ve shoved down.

“Paris was fine, it was fun, and I thought things were going great between us. But the morning we had to leave, it’s like he shut off all of his emotions. He won’t even speak to me and every time he does, it’s short-lived,” you briefly explain as your breath is still stable.

“Do you guys argue a lot?”

You glanced at her, “yes, but it isn’t as bad as before. It’s not what you think, but whenever something small happens, he just bursts at me.” Even through complications, you still find yourself defending Jaehyun.

“Arguing is still arguing y/n,” she breathed, “I can’t believe he’s still doing this to you. Have you talked about it to him?”

You shook your head, “Every time I try to, he always disregards it or says it’s because of work.”

“Bullshit,” it’s like Haewon read your mind, but only said them aloud.

“I-I don’t know what to do Haewon,” you stuttered as your arms fell to your side.

“Maybe something happened at home?” her voice rose in suspicion. No, she didn’t know about Jaehyun’s father, but there were always circulating rumors.

You inhaled a sharp breath, yourself beginning to calm down from your high of crying, “maybe. I don’t know, I’m done trying to talk to him for now.”

Haewon embraced you in her arms, “come,” she lowered your body to the bed, “let’s get some rest.”

As you lay alone in the silence, with Haewon fast asleep, you couldn’t help but think that maybe the reason why Jaehyun’s been worked up is because of his father. Maybe something really bad happened between them and Jaehyun didn’t want to tell you. Were you two really lovers if he couldn’t communicate with you? But again, it is something very private to him. Your heart began to play games while your mind made sure to keep your thoughts linear, but your heart won the match and by the time the sun rose, you hadn’t gotten the slightest bit of sleep. You woke up before Haewon did, texting her your thankfulness before driving back to your apartment.

Jaehyun also couldn’t sleep. Without you by his side, how was he supposed to? Even if he was the one to push you away for the better, he knows his heart only belongs to you now. His large body took over your space and his limbs stretched to all corners of the bed hoping that he could build the same amount of warmth your body did when it was here.

Carefully, you cracked the door open to your shared bedroom, Jaehyun laid on his back, conceiving all the space on the bed. The fall and rise of his chest made your heart waver because you just wanted to jump in bed, to feel him, and to smell that homey scent he always carried. How peaceful things were before...where and why did it go so wrong?

“You’re here,” Jaehyun rose from his bed, snapping you from your trance, “where’d you go?”

You shifted your gaze from him, “yeah, I spent the night at Haewon’s,” you grabbed your clothes that hung in the closet, not giving Jaehyun any attention and getting yourself ready for the day. You heard a small “oh” coming from him as he left for the bathroom. You let out a long sigh that neglected to relieve any tension your shoulders held.

You swung your blazer around your shoulders as you sat down on the edge of the bed, after finishing making it. Just in time, Jaehyun came out of the bathroom. Hair wet, towel around his waist, robust body, what a sight that captivated your eyes. The last time you saw him this revealing was your last night in Paris and that was a while ago, everything has changed after that. He was so tender, soft, and kind, the longing feeling weighed on your chest as your eyes followed his naked figure into the closet.

“Jae,”

“Hm?”

“Can we talk?” you asked.

“What about?”

“Why have you been avoiding me? Is it because of your father? Are you having nightmares again?” Your gaze fell upon your fumbling fingers before Jaehyun could snap his head at you.

He hesitated, “no.” lies. Part of it was, but most of it was because of his own self. Jaehyun couldn’t risk ruining your successful life with his dark, corrupt one. You were the most perfect person he’s met, even with imperfections and flaws, he saw you as an angel. He saw himself as the dust that was even lucky enough to brush past your beautiful face.

“Then what’s the matter? Why haven’t you been talking to me, Jaehyun? Everything’s changed since we got back from Paris.” You stood from the bed in your poor attempts to get closer to him.

Jaehyun let out a loud sigh, clearly letting you know he didn’t want to talk about this, “can we just talk about this after work? I don’t want to start the day like this.”

Again. Again and again. How many more times will he brush this conversation? How many more times will he brush you off? You felt hopeless like you were drowning and Jaehyun was in the boat above you watching you be engulfed by the water, yet refusing to give you the anchor.

“This is pointless,” you mumble. You quickly collected your things and left after making sure to slam the door behind you.

Jaehyun watched you leave, it hurt him every time you did because he didn’t know if you’d come back. Every time he made you leave, you were angry and the night would just end up being filled with slammed doors and cold nights, whether you were present or not. He stared at the bedroom door for what felt like hours, wishing that you’d come back and want to talk about it and fix things. But what was he expecting when he was constantly pushing you away at every chance that was given to him?

The day didn’t go by any faster, any moment you had to yourself, your mind was occupied with Jaehyun. Like he made a home there and didn’t plan on leaving. You found it hard to not overthink everything. From the home-cooked meals to the sex, you couldn’t find anything wrong that you did. Maybe he didn’t enjoy the sex? Am I too controlling? What if I’m not giving him enough? Or Any? What if that’s it??

You sat in your seat, completely disregarding the presentation. Who cares about rubber shoes? Audace is a chic, luxury fashion brand, we don’t do rubber. You were so occupied in your thoughts that with abruptness, you stood from your chair and left the meeting without a word. You carried your portfolio and bag out the door with you, not bothering to stop at your office.

At Jung Corporations, Jaehyun had just finished a meeting while his father was at another meeting outside of the building. He thanked the gods for their grace in giving him his own office, he wouldn’t be able to last a minute in the same room with his father. Looking over the notes on his tablet, his mind wandered to you again. Like your mind, you lived in his. Jaehyun always pondered if you’ve eaten, if you were taking plenty of mental breaks, and giving yourself the kindness your heart needed. Especially when he was treating you like this, he was sure to tell himself that this is for the best. He knows deep down in his heart that you deserve someone who can love you better than he can. Someone who can not only give you the utmost, fulfilling love, but also life.

Like his whispered wishes, you barged through his doors. Jaehyun stood from his seat as he watched you saunter up to his desk with determination and anger in your eyes. There was no greeting, no hello, no warning, but just you pressing your lips against his. Oh, how much he’s missed the feeling, the warming pleasure from your lips, and how they executed tenderness. Like his body was running on his own, his arms made their way home on your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You gently tugged on the hair that laid on Jaehyun’s nape as he lured you to his body, before picking your legs and brushing papers from his desk to clear a space for you.

You weren’t even thinking clearly, you were only driven by your emotions, but you missed him so much that even this kiss was everything. It’s everything that you ever wanted and you were ready to surrender and give all of your morals to him.

Wrapping your legs around Jaehyun’s hips, he made his fingers busy by unbuttoning your top that laid beneath your blazer, later tearing it from you. Jaehyun’s fingertips set your skin aflame, every follicle of hair, skin he touched was burning and aching for more.

“Please, please,” you whined when Jaehyun’s kisses trailed to your neck, giving your sweet spot attention.

Regrettably, those words snapped Jaehyun from his muse. This is wrong, he thought as he immediately pulled away from you. You stared at him with your mouth slightly open, ready to say something, but he beat you to it.

“This is wrong,” Jaehyun choked out.

“I thought that this is what you wanted,” you whispered.

He scoffed in disbelief, “are you being serious right now, y/n? Do you even hear yourself? Thinking that I only want you for your body?”

“Well, it seems like it is because this worked,” you shot back, jumping from the desk.

“You think that I’m in this for the sex?” Jaehyun questioned you, as you collected yourself again.

It was your turn to scoff, “I’d like to think that because you haven’t spoken to me at all.”

“We just talked this morning!” Jaehyun retorted.

“Not like that. I mean like, actually talking about things other than your day, your work. I’m tired of it, I just want to talk about the things you enjoy, the things you want to do with me in the future.” You explained, sliding your blazer back on your cold body.

“Well, I’m sorry that I can’t talk about you for a couple of days.”

“That’s not what I meant! Oh my gosh Jaehyun, you are so oblivious.” You grabbed your things and left.

You sat in your car, your head falling in your palms. What has gotten into you? This is not you, you never act so rashly like his. You’ve changed and right now you’re beginning to think it was for the worse. Tears threatened to brim at your eyes, but you pressed your palm against them hoping that they’d stay in because you still had half a day of work left.

“Where have you been? You left so suddenly at the meeting,” your mother asked.

“I just needed to take care of something.” You lied.

“Is it because of Jaehyun? Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, we just had to figure some things out. Don’t worry about it mother,” you lied, again. How many more times were you going to lie to your own mother? Lie that you were okay and that you weren’t hurt, heartbroken?

“Okay,” she sighed in defeat, you were indeed stubborn, “well if you’re not busy, go check how the Designing Department is doing, and then you can head home. You don’t look too good.”

“Yes, mother,” you nodded and headed to the lower level.

You stood in the elevator, waiting for it to get to the designated floor. Your mind replayed your little stunt. You still hated yourself for making your way to Jung Corporations, just how desperate are you y/n?

Ding!

You stride towards the prototyping of the outfits, double-checking that everything was right. Making sure that each outfit was according to the style of Audace. You were already in preparation for Paris Fashion Week, you can’t let a small bead even be misplaced. Every stitching had to have the exact, appointed color; every fabric must be to scale and cut sharply, no loose threads. There’s no space for mistakes anymore.

“How is this going, Chaeyoung?” Your eyes narrowed to speculate the embroidery of a jacket.

“Perfect, we’re almost done. All we have to do is to sew in the beads in the embroidery.” Her head nodded to the jacket as her hands were occupied with another mannequin’s outfit.

“I’m pleased to hear.”

“Um, Miss y/n?” Chaeyoung’s voice called, but her tone was informal like she was talking to you as a friend.

You turn towards her, humming for her call.

“Are you okay? If I’m being honest, you don’t look the best,” she worriedly states.

You blink a couple of times, even your mother said that you didn't look too good. Just how bad did you actually look? Last time you saw your reflection, you thought you looked decent, healthy at least. You nodded to Chaeyoung, “I’m fine, thank you. I’m actually heading home right now, so I’ll make sure to get plenty of rest.”

“Oh...okay. I hope everything is okay.”

Before leaving, you smiled at her consideration. It was interesting how everything ended up this way, especially between you two. You’d think that she’d have bad blood for you, but her kindness always made you reconsider that. In another world, you hoped that you two were genuine, friends.

You arrived home before Jaehyun, setting your things down at your feet, your body couldn’t even grasp energy to change. As soon as you closed the door, you grabbed a glass of water and sat on the couch waiting for Jaehyun to come home.

The sky that was painted in streaks of red and orange, transfigured into dark hues, letting the moon take care of the people for the night. You found your mind reminiscing about your past and the fun trip to Paris. Everything was fun as long as it lasted, you somehow knew things were going to get worse before they got better, you just didn’t think it’d be this bad and come so soon.

The familiar click of the door perked your head towards Jaehyun who looked like he had a stressful day. Maybe it was because of you, but you were silently praying that you were wrong.

“Hey,” he greeted, untying his shoes.

“Hi,” you shifted in your seat, waiting for him to come your way.

Feeling the dip on the sofa, you two sat in silence, letting the absence of sound drape over the apartment. Only the sounds of the beating of each other’s heart could be heard among the hum of the city and the heat that flowed into your apartment. The flickering lights of the city reflected against your tall windows as you let yourself speak first.

“What happened between us?”

Jaehyun shook his head, “I don’t know.”

“You’ve been avoiding me every second you have and when you do have a second, you’re arguing with me. Clearly-” you emphasized, “-I did something.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Then what is it? Is it your father?” your head turns to him, brows creased in concern. Jaehyun gave you no answer and you sensed that you were right, his father was the core of all this. “Jaehyun, it’s okay. I can help you.” you reached for his hand only to have him yank it away from you.

“Don’t you understand? You can’t help me.” Jaehyun stood from the couch, walking to the kitchen. Frustration coated his words and it began to dig into your skin. You didn’t want to pry too much or press his buttons again, you just wanted to help.

“Then tell me how. We can do this together,” your strides attempted to reach his figure, “I can find a way.”

Jaehyun’s body rapidly turns to you, immediately making you stop in your tracks. Especially when you see red, anger in his eyes, “no, you can’t. Unfortunately, you can’t help me at all.”

You shook your head in disbelief, “No, Jaehyun. We can find someone professional who can help.”

“You don’t understand and you never will y/n!” He shouted. Your body slightly jumps from the reverberate of his voice, it’s been so long since he’s yelled at you like that and this time, it stings your skin like salt on your past wounds. “You will never understand because this-” he points to his chest, the one over his heart, “-is who I am.”

“No it’s not, this isn’t you Jaehyun.” you walk towards him, but Jaehyun only steps back away from you.

“Yes, it is, y/n. This is who I am. I have been like this until you changed me for the worse. I cannot be fixed. I cannot be helped! I am like this!! This is who I am!!” Jaehyun repeats it several times until it’s ingrained in your mind. His shouting shoots at the wall vibrating his voice into your ears and it doesn’t sit well into your stomach.

“You’re angry. I get it, let’s just breathe, okay?” You offer your palms to him, understanding that he could just be stressed. You’re ultimately wrong when he aggressively slides all of the papers and decorations off the kitchen table, letting the plants and papers crumble to the floor.

“Don’t tell me to breathe y/n! I have held it in for so long, that I can’t do this anymore!” His chest rises from his hard pants.

You stay quiet, anxious to ask him what flashed through your head in red blinking lights, “do what?” your voice is barely above a whisper, but Jaehyun hears it break.

“This. I can’t do this marriage,” Jaehyun replies in the same tone.

“When?”

He looks at you with furrowed brows, “When what?”

“Since when did you know you couldn’t do this?” tears begin to brim at your eyes, but couldn’t find care in the world to hold them back. Not after what you’ve been through, what he put you through.

Jaehyun’s face becomes expressionless, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t hit me with that bullshit, Jaehyun,” you scoffed, “since when did you fucking know?”

“Our last night in Paris.”

A loud sigh escapes your lips as tears stream down your face, wetting your cheeks, barely holding onto your jaw. “Then did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” Jaehyun asks. His meaningless questions burrow themselves under your skin, how oblivious could he be?

“When you said you love me you asshole!” this time it’s your time to shout, but it’s more of a cry for help. You’re begging for him to give you the answer you want, but the world never liked playing on your side.

It was like time had slowed down. You only stood a few feet from Jaehyun but it felt like miles. So far, yet so close. He stood in front of you hesitating his answer, debating if he could give you the truth or if it was better to rip off the bandaid and put a new one on it.

“No.”

You’re hysterical at this point, your cries turn into scoffs of breaths, which turns into laughter. They’re quick to rebound into loud cries when you feel your legs becoming weak. Instead of falling to the floor, you force yourself to stomp to your bedroom.

Jaehyun’s eyes follow you, wondering what you could be doing. His answer quickly comes to him when you leave the room with your large duffle bag in your hand, full and zipped.

“Where are you going at this time?” Jaehyun asks, surprised he even found the courage in him to ask.

“Out. I’m done Jaehyun.” You slam the door shut behind, leaving Jaehyun in the empty, cold apartment.

You ended up going back home, finding yourself in a spot where you had to explain to your mother.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you cried in your mother’s arms.

“It’s okay, it’s okay to cry” she stroked your hair as she held you in her arms, “it’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to feel what you need to feel.”

Since your father was overseas, you slept with your mother, you couldn’t stand not being alone at this time. Being in your mother's arms reminded you of when you were little and you couldn’t sleep without her by your side, it makes you miss how easy life was. How happy you were without a worry.

It’s been days since you’ve texted or called Jaehyun, he hasn’t bothered to reach out to you either. Every night for you was filled with tear-stained pillows and the unnerving feeling of calling Jaehyun, but you never reached across your bed for your phone. You two were good at being stubborn in ignoring each other, it makes you wonder if this was now the end.

However, Jaehyun wasn’t handling the situation well. Every morning brought him agony that it wasn’t a nightmare, that this was real and you were truly gone. He stayed away from drinking, the clubs, and only locked himself in the master bedroom, away from the world. Jaehyun often looked out the window, looking below at the city. Knowing that the road leads up to the apartment building, he always watched out for your car, but he only saw it in his dreams. Jaehyun waited and waited for you to come back. Again, what is he expecting? He’s done his deed in pushing you away in the worst way possible, how much more did he want from you? Why was he now asking for you to come back into his arms when all you’ve been is forgiving and loving to him? And he was the one to ruin all of it? The one to just throw it away like it meant absolutely nothing to him when it really meant the world. It’s fucked up, it really is.

Jaehyun thought about you every day. You live in his mind, you go to work with him, you’re in the car with him, you go to bed with him. He pretends you’re there in spirit, but he knows you’re physically gone. Insane, that is what he is.

“Come on, it’s been days! You have to come out,” Taeyong speaks through Jaehyun’s phone.

Jaehyun sighs, “not tonight Yong.”

“You’ve been saying that every time I call you. You never come out anymore, is it because of y/n? Are you finally getting tied down?” Taeyong only says it to joke around, but little did he know, it had a great effect on Jaehyun.

“Can you just shut the fuck up man? Jeez,” Jaehyun hangs up on Taeyong, clearly angry. He’s not though, he’s been constantly hurting, but Taeyong finds out the second he’s hung up on.

That’s why in the next ten minutes, there’s a hard knock at the door, forcing Jaehyun to drag his body to the door.

“What?” Jaehyun deadpans at his best friend who wore a smile on his face, which shortly falters after noticing the darkest bags under a pair of eyes.

“What happened to you?” Taeyong walks past Jaehyun, welcoming himself into the apartment. He looks around, for never being in here, he considers it as a luxury apartment, but something was missing. It felt cold and empty in here. “Y/n here?”

When he doesn’t get an answer, he turns to see Jaehyun silently crying, his head hanging in his palms. His shoulders shake from his cries as Taeyong embraces his best friend. Taeyong is completely lost, not knowing what was going on, but the only thing he knew was that he needed to be there for Jaehyun.

“She’s gone,” Jaehyun sniffles.

Taeyong pulls away to hear it again, hoping that the words Jaehyun expressed were false. Each time they’d meet up Jaehyun would never shut up about you, in the beginning, he’d grumble about the little things that you did that irked him, but as time went on, he found the little things to be the most precious. Taeyong found Jaehyun as a new jubilant person, he’d always look forward to things, he’d smile more at others, there was an unbeknownst glow that you brought to Jaehyun’s heart.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Taeyong’s brows creased.

“She hasn’t been home for days Taeyong. She’s fucking gone!!” Jaehyun shouted at his friend, bloodshot, red, painted within his eyes.

Days turned into weeks, which turned into a month. Yes, you kept count. It’s been almost a month without a sound from Jaehyun. You despised yourself for always checking your phone, thinking that the ding you heard was a text from him or a ring was a call from him. Your hopes failed you when you were faced with the ghost presence of him. A huge part of your heart wanted to forgive and go back into his arms, but another wanted to completely disappear from his world. You wanted to erase yourself from his story. You knew you couldn’t go back after he admitted that he couldn’t find it in himself to marry you or the fact that he didn’t mean a single action or word when you two were in Paris.

Lies everything was a complete lie. You slam your portfolio shut as you gather your things into your bag. You informed your mother that you’d be home later, you had to go back to the apartment to collect your belongings. All of them.

As you drive down the old road, little memories of you and Jaehyun lingered in your mind. The late, late ice cream runs, the drives to watch the sunset or sunrise at the pier, the little bits of laughter echoed through your ears, and the cold walks among the beach where you’d walk close to him. You two built many sandcastles that were washed away too soon by the harsh waves.

The familiar, tall, silver building came into view too quickly. You parked your car into the parking garage and walked up to your room, your feet remembering every single step so well that you could’ve gone up safely with your eyes closed. You softly knock on the door, fully knowing that Jaehyun was home. After Taeyong visited Jaehyun, he called you that day, and several days after that, begging you to visit him for Jaehyun had been isolating himself and was completely miserable.

The door swung open, letting a brisk wind blow past you, the nostalgic smell of your apartment softly hitting your nostrils. How much you’ve missed this.

“Y/n.”

“Hey,” your eyes scanned the man in front of you. Disheveled hair, dark eye bags, swollen eyes, and he looked like he’d been lacking in cooking for himself. Taeyong was right, he was completely miserable. But as much as your heart longed to forgive him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to give him that kind of benefit again.

“Come in,” Jaehyun opens the door wider for you to come in. Nothing about the place has changed. You’re surprised by such a messy image of him, the place is well kept.

“I’m just here to collect my remaining belongings,” you reply, already making your way up to your once shared bedroom before hearing a quiet “oh” from him.

The room resembled your heart, it was chaotic. The bed wasn’t made, the curtains were halfway drawn, drawers were slightly opened by his inability to shove his clothes fully in, the laundry basket was overflowing and spilling of clothes, letting it scatter amongst the carpet.

“Jaehyun,” you silently whisper at the state the room was in. You weren’t mad, you were just disheartened that Jaehyun had been this frustrated that he couldn’t even take care of himself.

“I’m sorry,” he shoved past you, “I didn’t know you were coming,” he tripped over his feet by trying to pick up his dispersed clothing from the floor.

“Jaehyun,” you choked out at the poor man who sat on the floor, scrambling on his knees unable to get back up, and you couldn’t resist it any longer. He looked so frail, like a broken vase that had just been recently glued. You rushed to him and held him close to your chest, letting out a choked cry and tears streaming down your face.

Along with your cries, Jaehyun’s was also heard. He clutched onto your arm that settled around him, afraid that if he’d let go he’d lose you forever. Heavy sobs left Jaehyun’s chest as his tears stained your shirt, were you here to stay with him?

Jaehyun pulled away from your embrace, he caressed your cheek as he brushed a tear from your eye, “please stay. Stay the night before we both decide we’re over.” He didn’t let you give him an answer because he knew you’d stay. Picking you up into his arms, he carried your frail body to the bed as you attempted to calm your breathing down. Jaehyun was careful in changing you out of your clothes and into a shirt of his, for that was the only thing that was left now.

Nonetheless, you let him carry you, change you, you let yourself stay because you knew that this was going to be the last night you’d see him. It was a horrible thing, but you prayed for only one more night with him.

Jaehyun’s body came flush to yours, letting his arms wrap around your waist to bring you impossibly closer. He looks at you with eyes full of love but also drowned in sadness. He knows you’re not here forever. Without hesitation, Jaehyun pressed his lips against yours, the very distant memory of his lips sliced through your mind making you yearn for him. It’s only been a month, but it felt like years since you’ve felt those pink, plump, soft lips of his. Like always, it interlocked with yours like the key to a lock, like the last piece of a puzzle, like the calming of a river. There was no stripping of clothes, no coitus, just the two of you locking your lips together, feeling nothing but the actions of your mouths molding together. Jaehyun’s hands wandered your body, his mind needed to memorize the landscape of your body just in case you’d leave forever. But soon, they found a home in your hair and on your waist, while you found your place on his back and nape, occasionally tugging his strands.

It continued for a while until your jaw grew tired, your mind was worn and you were emotionally and mentally drained. As much as you didn’t want to, you pulled away. Jaehyun’s head softly fell on your chest, hearing the steadiness of your heart before he closed his eyes.

“Thank you,” Jaehyun whispered before drifting off.

When Jaehyun woke up the next morning, you were gone. The cold, wrinkled bed sheet telling him that you left hours ago without a sound. From the corner of his eyes, a glint coming from your side’s drawer glared his vision from the sun. It was your ring and a key on top of a handwritten letter from you. Jaehyun firmly rubbed his eyes, hoping that he was seeing things, but it was too good to be true.

Dear Jaehyun,

We’ve spent these past few months in hate, lust, and love. We have so many lovely memories that I’ll cherish forever in my heart. From the drunken laughs to the pillow talks, I’ve enjoyed each moment with you, don’t you doubt it.

I wanted to thank you for the things you’ve taught me. You have given me the patience that I didn’t know I needed, you taught me how to forgive, and you’ve helped me acknowledge that it’s acceptable to stand up for what you believe in. Along with that, you taught me that people can change. I want you to understand that I was nowhere near trying to change you or fix you. You are not broken, you have the infinite ability for self-growth. I wanted to be there for you, I wanted to help you, trust me I really did. But I cannot be with you until you love yourself. I cannot see you love me more than you love yourself.

Don’t lie and tell me you haven’t meant anything you’ve said or done up until now. I know your heart, I know there’s love in there for me, your actions were always better than your words. You were never good at lying, your ears gave it away, but even so, your words found its way to my wounds and like salt, I gave it to you to pour on me.

We were always good at ignoring each other and running away from our problems. To this day, I will forever wish that I woke up next to you, but I can’t do this anymore. If you don’t want this marriage, and you mean it, please forgive me for giving you every access to my heart. I wish that I hadn’t settled into the feeling of being someone you loved.

My last wish is for you to find love for yourself. You are worthy, you are worthy of love and to be loved. You were never broken, you just had some cracked areas and I hope that you can go back and paint those areas with gold. You are a strong man, you’re capable of love, always remind yourself that.

By the time you get this, I’ll be out and probably somewhere lost among the crowd. Please don’t look for me anymore. I need time and I need to make peace with my heart. This key and this ring is my returned gift to you. I hope you can give them to someone strong enough to teach you what I couldn’t.

And perhaps if fate allows, we will meet again when we are older and wiser, but for now, goodbye Jaehyun.

With all my love,

y/n.

#jaehyun imagines #jaehyun angst #jaehyun smut #jaehyun series #jaehyun au #jaehyun #nct 127 imagines #jaehyun scenarios #nct jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct au #nct imagines

578 notes · View notes

strawberriestyles · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 23

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: HELLO EVERYBODY. BIG APOLOGIES FOR THE LONG ASS WAIT BUT HERE SHE IS. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. I AM STILL WORKING ON THE NEXT CHAPTER AND I CAN’T PROMISE WHEN I WILL POST AGAIN, BUT HOPEFULLY IT WILL BE SOON. HOPE YOU’RE ALL WELL!!! (If you feel so inclined, I do have a ko-fi now, and coffee sure does help me on writing sprees. *wink wink*)

“Mel.” Harry skimmed a hand down the side of her neck to the bandage that covered her small cut, where she’d been sliced by Colton’s knife. For all intents and purposes, she appeared dead to the world, but she usually did when she slept this late into the day. “Melody, wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered open, vision blurry. And she jumped when she felt Harry’s hand shift on her throat, pushing him away with a gasp.

“‘S me,” he told her gently, crouching down beside the bed until he was at eye level with her, watching her face relax in realization. “‘S only me.”

“You’re okay?” she whispered. She hadn’t been able to speak to him at all the night before. He’d been whisked away for an MRI the moment they’d stepped foot in the hospital, and when she’d been allowed into his room, the pain meds they’d pumped into him had already knocked him unconscious. At some point in the middle of the night, he’d woken her and coaxed her out of her chair, into the hospital bed with him, but they’d both been too tired to speak more than a couple words before falling back to sleep.

“‘M fine,” he answered, nodding.

Melody sighed in relief. She watched Harry rest his chin on the edge of the mattress as she shifted onto her back, then rubbed at her tired eyes. “Did you hear what Brian said?” she whispered. It was almost too quiet to be a hospital. She wasn’t surprised when she glanced at the door and found it closed.

“Not last night,” he said. “Didn’ hear anythin’ anyone said last night. I was completely out of it.” He paused and then nodded slowly. “But he told me this mornin’.”

The air felt heavy. Melody had so many thoughts, but she didn’t know what any of them were. Her mind was a jumble of string, and she couldn’t find an end to yank and untangle.

“Are yeh okay?” Harry asked. He reached for her hand, dragging it across the bed and pressing his lips to her knuckles, gentle with the dark bruises from when she’d hit CJ. “Mel, yeh don’ feel bad, do yeh?” His voice was quiet, gentle. It was so different from everything she’d heard leave his mouth the day before—when he’d argued with CJ, when he’d snapped at her in the car, when he’d spoken so urgently to her and Colton. “He wouldn’ have felt bad if he hurt yeh. He didn’ regret almost killin’ me.”

Melody shook her head, sitting up. “No,” she muttered, pulling the strap of her tank top back up her shoulder. “No, of course not. It’s just...complicated.”

Harry agreed. None of this was simple. “Yeh wanna get dressed, love?” he asked. “Bea and Josie are here. And Sean went downstairs to grab us some breakfast.”

Melody glanced toward the door, nodding. “Is Vanessa here?”

Harry stood, dropping Melody’s hand to reach for the bag that Bea had brought for her. He dug beneath her dress—now rumpled and bloody—for the fresh clothes Bea had packed, tossing a t-shirt and leggings onto the bed. “She wanted to stay until yeh woke up,” he said, “but she worked a double yesterday. She went home to sleep. She said to have you call her when yeh feel like it.”

Melody glanced at her phone on the table beside the bed. Somehow, Bea had found it in her suitcase before leaving the apartment. But Melody hadn’t taken a moment to check her notifications. She knew that she’d have to talk to her mom. Speaking with Vanessa sounded a lot less dreadful, but despite the deep sleep Harry had woken her from, it was as if she had no energy left to explain what had happened. She barely had the energy to process it herself.

Trying not to fall into the vivid memories of the night before, Melody slipped her tank top off and switched it for the t-shirt Harry had laid out for her. When she’d changed her pants and raked her hands through her hair, she found Harry staring out the window, his arms crossed, his eyes unfocused.

“Are you okay?” she whispered, lifting a hand to touch his shoulder when he didn’t respond. “Harry?”

“Hm?” he murmured. He glanced down at her, dazed, and nodded. “Yeah, ‘m fine. Uh, Brian needs me to identify the body.”

Melody’s stomach seized up. If she had eaten anything since early yesterday afternoon, she might’ve been sick.

“Do you...” she began, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. “Uh, do you need me to come with you?”

“No.” Harry shook his head fiercely. He watched relief spread across her face. “No, you can just go home with Bea, yeah?”

Melody clasped her hands in her lap, her brows knitting together. “Are you sure?”

“Of course ‘m sure,” Harry said. “I can do it alone.”

The minutes of panic from the day before raced through Harry’s mind again—minutes that had seemed to last for hours. Despite his efforts to shake them, the memories had flashed like strobe lights since he’d woken up. Melody’s terrified face, Colton’s grin, the gleam of the knife, the feeling of sheer uselessness, of helplessness. And the apologies afterward, like Melody had expected to take Colton down single-handedly.

“Melody,” Harry said quietly, uncrossing his arms to press his palms into the mattress, “yeh know I didn’ expect yeh to turn around and knock him out, right?”

She pulled her lip between her teeth and turned her head away from him. Like she was embarrassed. He shook his head slowly, confused and exasperated.

“He had a fuckin’ knife to your throat,” he reminded her.

Melody sighed, staring at the wall before her. “But I—”

“But nothin’, okay?” Harry interrupted. He caught her chin, turning her face toward him. “If all yeh ended up with was this little cut,” he continued, running a finger down to the edge of the bandage on her neck, “then I don’ care. Yeh’re okay. Tha’s what matters to me.” Melody blinked silently, shivering as his fingers drifted over her skin. Harry drew in a deep breath. “And ‘m sorry for snappin’ at yeh in the car,” he added in a whisper.

Melody’s lips pursed. She reached up to grip his wrist, dragging his hand away from her neck, where his touch still tickled. “It’s fine.”

“No, ‘s not. It wasn’ fair,” he protested. “Yeh weren’ doin’ anythin’ wrong.”

Melody studied the tense lines of his face. Their conversation before arriving back at the apartment was the last thing she was worried about. It seemed weeks ago, rather than only a few hours. “How’s your head?” she asked.

Harry nodded softly. “Okay. Still aches a little, but ’m fine. How’s your hand?” He reached for the one in her lap when she merely shrugged, bending her fingers, gentle. “That hurt?”

Melody’s wince answered him. She pressed her lips tightly together. “Mhmm.”

Someone knocked at the door. Melody stiffened.

“Can we come in yet?” Bea asked, poking her head into the room. “Is she awake?”

“I’m awake,” Melody assured her, drawing her hand out of Harry’s and relaxing her sore fingers.

“Oh, good.” The door swung open as Bea entered the room, closely followed by Josie. Sean trailed after them, his hands full, hugging cups of coffee to his chest. They all looked just as tired as Melody felt, and the unbridled worry in their eyes had her fighting back a rush of tears.

“Hi,” Sean murmured, stepping in front of Bea and Josie to hand Melody some breakfast—a bagel and a container of fruit. She took the cup of coffee he handed her with a sigh of thanks. But it was quiet as he passed another breakfast off to Harry, like everyone was wondering where to start a conversation.

“Um,” Bea began, scratching at her temple, where a curl was tickling her, “how did the visit go?”

Melody took a sip of lukewarm, watery coffee and shook her head.

“Oh, no.” Bea glanced at Harry, her eyes narrowed in accusation. “What’d he do?”

Josie barked out a laugh and then clapped a hand over her mouth, turning toward the door. But the damage had already been done. Harry cocked his head at both of them, raising an eyebrow in offense.

“It was me, actually,” Melody said. She watched Bea shoot Harry a short, apologetic look and then avoid his gaze. “CJ showed up.”

“Yikes,” Bea hissed. Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “I thought he wasn’t going. Didn’t he have a tennis match or something?”

Maybe it shouldn’t have bothered him, but hearing Bea talk about CJ so casually rubbed Harry the wrong way. When had she and Melody talked about him? How did Bea know that CJ had a tennis match? And if CJ’s presence or absence was so important, why did Harry feel so out of the loop? But instead of wondering aloud, he only muttered, “Of course he plays fuckin’ tennis.”

Josie gave a dry snort, side-eyeing him. “What’s wrong with tennis?”

“Do yeh play?”

“No.”

“Then, why does it matter?”

Josie rolled her eyes and turned toward Melody. “Well, we’re kind of having the same issue,” she said, tipping her head in Bea’s direction. “My parents won’t even let me in the house.” When Harry looked blankly at her, she added, “Very religious family.”

Harry frowned, raising a brow. “Yeh work in a bar.”

Josie scoffed. “And you’re unemployed,” she snapped back. “See how rude it sounds?”

Melody set her coffee to the side and pressed a hand to her forehead when Harry opened his mouth to speak again. She was relieved that everyone was avoiding the topic of Colton, of the entire reason they were in the hospital to begin with, but this was not the sort of conversation she wanted to hear instead. “Can you both stop, please?” she muttered.

Bea sighed. “Do you wanna go home?” she asked Melody. “You’re ready?”

A swift nod later, Harry was stuffing her dirty clothes back into her bag, zipping it up and handing it over to Bea. Josie reached for Melody’s coffee.

“I’m gonna stick with Harry,” Sean said as Melody climbed off of the bed.

For the first time since she woke, she let her hand drift to her neck, to her bandaged wound. She could feel the slightest sting when she applied pressure. It was a small cut—insignificant, really—but that didn’t stop her mind from wandering. What if Colton had kept a better grip? What if she hadn’t slipped so perfectly from the circle of his arm? And what if Harry hadn’t been so lucky? What if he’d suffered more than that skull-splitting headache?

“Melody,” Harry whispered. She blinked and he was standing in front of her, rubbing his chin, the skin smooth and shaven so neatly for meeting her parents. He lifted his other hand and his fingers circled her wrist, drawing her arm back to her side. She hadn’t realized she’d still been touching the bandage. “Are yeh still here?”

“What?” she murmured back.

He drew in a slow breath and shrugged. “Yeh space out when yeh’re stressed,” he explained. “Sure yeh’re okay?”

Melody glanced down at his hand, still looped around her wrist, his thumb dancing across the thin bones. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m fine.”

He nodded briefly, though he didn’t believe her in the slightest. “I’ll go right back to the apartment when ‘m done here, okay?” He waited for a nod or a hum, some form of acknowledgment, but it didn’t come. “Mel.”

She shook her head, as if waking from a daze, and looked up to meet his eyes. “Okay.”

Harry pressed his palm to the side of her face, thumbing over her cheekbone. The skin beneath her eyes was dark and swollen, her lips raw from all of her constant chewing, the bruise at her chin only just beginning to yellow. She looked like she’d been dragged through hell, and maybe she had. Maybe this was her personal hell.

“See yeh soon,” Harry breathed, ducking to press a swift kiss to her forehead. He stepped aside so that Bea and Josie could usher her out of the room, and he watched until they disappeared around the edge of the doorway.

“Are you ready?” Sean asked when they were alone, clapping Harry’s shoulder with a firm hand. “Might as well get it over with, right?”

“Right,” Harry muttered. He dragged a palm down his face, setting his shoulders. Even if he wasn’t ready, time wasn’t going to pause until he could collect himself, so he would fake it. The same way Melody faked that calm stolidity.

“Let’s go.”

***

The following days were uncomfortable. Melody’s apartment, the place she’d made her own, the space she’d spent so much time occupying, no longer seemed to belong to her. There was a dull spot in the floor where Bea had scrubbed at Colton’s dried blood. And no matter how hard she tried to remember that he’d only spent minutes inside, whereas she’d lived there for years, Melody couldn’t stop picturing him in the kitchen, imagining him stepping through the door behind her while she was letting her suitcase topple over, unaware. Somehow, he seemed so much more present when his actual presence was impossible. He was no longer a distant figure standing in the shadows, but he’d already come and gone, and forgetting how it had felt to be pressed against him, his clammy hand tangled in her dress, was not going to happen overnight. He was a ghost, lurking in the corners, breathing down the back of her neck.

Harry was at a loss. When he’d helped ease Melody’s nightmares those months ago, he’d felt purposeful, useful, maybe even needed. But nothing he did now seemed to lessen the strain. He could comfort her when she woke in a fit, but he couldn’t keep Melody’s bad dreams at bay. And it was eating at him. He wished she could share with him, that he could press his forehead to hers and lighten the load she carried, or that he could at least understand the terror that still gripped her while she slept. That same agonizing helplessness that he’d felt when Colton had tried pulling her out of the apartment—Harry felt it spark in his gut each time Melody awoke in tears.

And to add to it, Colton’s face seemed permanently etched into the backs of Harry’s eyelids. Not his sneer or his chafing laughter, not that sharp smirk that he liked to wear—the cold, lifeless face he wore in death. It was the calm face that had appeared when the coroner had unzipped that black body bag in the morgue. Harry had never seen Colton look so peaceful and still. He’d always been moving. Even in sleep he mumbled and twitched. Seeing him so utterly devoid of noise and movement made the finality of it all almost palpable.

Harry’s mind was constantly churning now. The length of time for which he could focus seemed to wane as his thoughts flitted by like frames in a film reel. He was somewhere else entirely when he felt the electric force of Melody’s right-handed swing through the mitt she aimed for.

Her next punch came harder.

His eyes, which had been passively following her form—watching her muscles twist and her limbs stretch in order to gauge where to position his mitts—snapped to her face. Her skin was sheeted in sweat, strands of hair plastered to her temples. The red in her cheeks only highlighted the raw, torn skin of her chewed lips.

“Mel,” Harry tried. She wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t sure if she was even registering that he was behind those mitts or if she’d simply clocked out. Her torso twisted back and forth with the brutal speed of her alternating hits. “Melody,” he tried again, raising his voice to cut through her stupor, “tha’s enough.”

Melody redirected her arm mid-swing. The change in course threw her off-balance and she stumbled sideways, toward the boxing ring beside them. Harry caught her with an arm around her waist before she fell completely. The two of them froze for a moment. Then Melody’s head swung, her eyes darting about the gym until she was satisfied that nobody was watching them.

A strangled whimper passed her lips. Harry’s arm tightened on her sweaty torso, pressing her into his chest. “Shh,” he murmured softly, batting the mitts from his hands with a couple of impatient flicks, “shh.” He stepped backward, lifting her off her feet and swinging her into the hallway that led to the locker rooms. It was quieter here.

Harry set Melody down, propping her against the closest wall. He took a short step back and leaned down until he could see her face clearly, brushing hair away from her cheeks, noting the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“Yeh’re fine, love. Wha’s wrong?”

Melody swallowed, then blinked, and in the next second she was tearing at the velcro of her right glove and flinging it to the floor, then closing the space which separated her from Harry, grasping the back of his neck as he began to draw away. She pulled at him until she could reach his lips and kissed him with a firm mouth. His palms tightened on her jaw for a moment, his lips stilled with surprise. There was a moment before he kissed her back, and then it only lasted for a heartbeat. He reached behind him for her wrist, withdrawing her fingers from his hair, his other hand slipping over her side.

“Melody,” he breathed, pushing against her hip to add space between them. “Mel, hey.”

Melody relented, flattening against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she tipped her head back, peeling her eyes open to look up at the ceiling. The tears that had collected began to drip down her face, one by one.

Harry shook his head in confusion. “Wha’s goin’ on?” he asked gently, reaching for her face again. He drew his thumbs through the wet tracks streaking her cheeks. “I thought yeh’d feel better.”

Melody let out a garbled sob, twisting her head until she could see out into the rest of the gym. Everyone else continued on, oblivious.

“Melody,” Harry pressed.

“It’s not fair!” she cried, dipping her chin for a moment and finally freeing her other hand from its glove. When she looked up again, she met his gaze head-on. “It’s not fair that he almost killed you and now he’s just gone. And I still close my eyes and see his face like he’s right in front of me. And what he did to you and what he did to me, we have to live with that for the rest of our lives and he just gets to—” She cut herself off with a hiccuped gasp. Her eyes dropped to the collar of Harry’s shirt. She could see the pulse in his neck before his face lowered into her line of sight.

“Die?” Harry finished, a deep, troubled divot between his brows. “He’s dead,” he said slowly. “Yeh’d rather be dead?”

Melody deflated beneath his stare, shaking her head. “No,” she whispered.

“No,” he repeated. His fingers traced her cheekbone. “Yeh’re safe, love.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

The words felt like a wicked blow. It was merely weeks ago that she’d said differently. You make me feel safe, Harry. But he schooled his features and nodded curtly.

“Maybe yeh don’ feel like it yet, but yeh are.”

Melody shut her eyes, collecting herself. She felt Harry’s lips at her temple, but then his phone rang, loud and shrill, and both of them jumped. She wiped her lingering tears with the back of her wrist as Harry stepped back, glancing down at the screen. She met his pause with a frown.

“Who is it?”

Harry cleared his throat, flashing her a brief, vague look. “‘S my mum.”

Melody drew in a breath, nodding. “Answer it.” She waited for him to move, but he seemed frozen, still as a wax sculpture. “Harry,” she said, “answer the phone.”

He gave a sharp nod and then spun around, bringing the phone to his ear. Melody watched him move further down the hall, his voice a low murmur, and then she stepped back into the main area of the gym to offer him a modicum of privacy. His mitts lay abandoned on the floor. She pressed her shoulders into the wall and slid down to sit, stretching her legs out before her.

It seemed like only minutes had passed before Harry stepped around the corner. Melody glanced up at him, but he was staring across the room, his expression drawn, impassive. He slid down the wall beside her, settling on the floor, and threw his arms over his crooked-up knees.

“What’s wrong?” Melody asked. She reached for his hand when he didn’t respond, her heart pounding so hard that her chest ached. “Harry?”

“She’s in remission.”

Melody froze, her fingers partly intertwined with his. “What?”

He nodded, confirming that she’d heard him correctly.

“That’s great,” she said. She studied his profile—the hard set of his jaw, the troubling, cool stare. “That’s incredible. Why don’t you look happy?”

Harry let out a dry laugh, his fingers closing around Melody’s, still avoiding her eyes. “She called to tell me good news, and then we had to talk about how her son is dead.”

Melody licked her dry lips. She hadn’t even considered that Harry might not have spoken to his mother since everything had happened. And she certainly hadn’t thought about his mom’s heartache. She’d been consumed by her own fear and the lack of good sleep she’d been getting. And now she felt guilt gnaw at her.

“What did she say?” she whispered.

“Not much.” Harry’s jaw tightened. He reached up to rake a hand through his hair. “I don’ think she really has any words.”

As she watched him, Harry’s stone face cracked. It was small, just a rapid blink and a twitch of his mouth, and anyone else probably wouldn’t have noticed, but Melody reached for him. She turned her body, pressing a kiss to his cheek, sliding an arm around his neck and stroking his hair. Harry closed his eyes, effectively blocking out everyone around them.

“Just—‘m not upset that he’s gone. ‘M relieved.” He sighed, shivering at the tickle of Melody’s hair on his neck. “‘M so fuckin’ relieved. And that feels wrong when my mum has to grieve for him.”

A wave of frustrated anger swept through Melody. The same feeling that had her swinging mindlessly at Harry’s mitts. It wasn’t fair.

“It’s not wrong, Harry,” she said firmly. She pulled back enough to look at him, but his eyes remained closed. “He was her son but he wasn’t your brother. You experienced a different person from the one that she knew. You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling, okay? But what you don’t need to feel is guilty.”

His eyes opened again. He watched the men in the boxing ring, one backing the other into a corner, a rapid duck as a fist swung, just missing its mark. He could feel Melody’s gaze.

“You never say anything back,” she muttered. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. He turned to look at her. “Yeah, I do.”

Her deep frown softened, her brow relaxing. “Good,” she said.

“‘M not—” Harry’s gaze swept over the room once more. Melody watched his jaw shift. “I don’ wanna be here.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, drawing in a loud breath and climbing to her feet. “Let’s go.”

Harry pulled himself up to stand beside her, and together they collected their equipment, stuffing their gym bags, and trailed through the city back to Melody’s apartment.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles x ofc #boxer!harry #boxer!au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles ferocity

82 notes · View notes

hoekaashi · 4 years ago

Text

3 am Talks - hq pt 3

a/n: almost done, two more left!! i’m not sure why, but these ones were really fun for me to do and i had to cut myself off before i wrote whole fics for each one. also thank you to my wifey for helping me with akaashi, idk why his was so hard for me to do ): pairings: bokuto x reader, akaashi x reader, ushijima x reader, tendou x reader, semi x reader warnings: some spoilers for post timeskip, minor cussing, a bit suggestive (ushi) taglist: @babydabi, @suckersuki, @bakugoustanaccount, @animoozies part 2 | part 4

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

⇾ definitely someone who talks about the first things that just pop into his mind ⇾ would literally change topics in the middle of his sentence ⇾ “did you see my last spread, I was centerfold Tsum-Tsum was not happy but when I offered to trade places with him, it made him even more mad - I just got an email saying my new knee pads have been shipped YES - babe are you hungry? Let’s go to the convenience store and get some snacks” ⇾ all over the place ⇾ but the second sleep starts to hit him, he become even softer than he already is ⇾ this baby would def be asking for validation without outright asking for it - we all know he lives to be praised but as he gets older, he stops asking for it directly ⇾ i feel like he just becomes more self-conscious after he realizes that being on a national team means that now the entire WORLD is scrutinizing him ⇾ i could keep going on about him imma stop

“I couldn’t help it, I started laughing.” Even hours later, Bokuto was trying to hold in laughter from the memory of the event. “I think that’s why he’s mad at you Kou.” Bokuto pouted. “I offered to help him up.” “Yeah, but you were also red from laughing so hard and wiping the tears from your eyes. I don’t think he appreciated that.” Bokuto got quiet and you knew what that meant. “But at the end of the day, the pictures came out amazing. You look amazing.” His smile, although soft compared to his usual grin, came back. “You think so?” You hummed. “If volleyball doesn’t work out, you could be a model. I already know one of my friends has a shrine dedicated to you. Which honestly feels weird, but hey, if it’s harmless why should I care?” you said, going off on a tangent. Bokuto brushed off the compliment that normally would’ve stroked his ego. “Nah, I don’t think I could handle the pressure.” You cocked an eyebrow. “People constantly judging you and criticizing you. You know me, I thrive with praise and…” “Become emo with criticism?” He let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah. I’m trying to change.” You reached over and caressed his cheek. “There’s a difference between growing up and mellowing out and changing who you are. You’ve done the growing up part and you’re slowly mellowing out as much as you can. But please don’t change.” “But people keep saying -” “Forget what they say. I love you the way you are now.” Bokuto’s full grin returned to his face. “I love you more.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ more of a listener he learned his ways from babysitting bo ⇾ he would just enjoy listening to whatever you had on your mind ⇾ one to add his own commentary and thoughts to whatever you were saying ⇾ if he were to talk though, he would reminisce ⇾ talks of bokuto and his old team, things he misses ⇾ but speaking of bokuto, he would go off on how proud he is seeing his former ace doing so well for himself now - even if he still isn’t a normal player ⇾ depending on how open he’s feeling, he might even wander into his insecurities and childhood, things he doesn’t really open up about unless he feels really close to you

“And then I booked it out of there,” you finished your story. Akaashi hummed. “What about the other girl who was still working?” “Look, she never sticks around to help me when I have extra work, I wasn’t going to stick around to help her.” He cracked a smile at your pettiness. “Wait, didn’t you have lunch with Bokuto today?” “Yes. It was nice.” You waited a moment thinking that Akaashi would add more. “That’s it? It was nice?” “Well, you know how he is. But it was nice to see him trying to change himself. Well, improve himself.” You rolled over from your back onto his chest and reached up to play with his hair. “We talked a lot about playing during high school and what the others are doing these days. Everyone is so busy now, it’s hard to keep up. I’m proud of them.” You didn’t let the smile on Akaashi’s face go unnoticed, commenting on how it always seemed to be there whenever he talked about his former ace. “Leave me alone, I’m happy with how far he’s come on his own. I can’t but smile when I think about the people I love.” “Do you smile when you think about me?” “Of course I do, you idiot,” he replied before kissing your forehead.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ i very strongly believe he would talk about parallel universes ⇾ he would go into the existence of them but also like ‘what if there was a way for people in a parallel universe who could watch me as if my life was a movie’ ⇾ if he was in a more serious mood, like if he had a big match coming up or sum, he would talk more about his goals ⇾ the things he hopes to accomplish in the future, the outcomes he wants in life ⇾ if he was tired, it would be more like akaashi - more listening, less talking ⇾ i feel like he would always want to know what’s happening in your mind so he would ask you the most random questions or just want to listen to you talk as he drifts off to sleep

“Do you think they saw me when I tripped over Leo and dropped the dishes?” You remembered when he tripped over the cat the two of you were raising and ended up breaking a few plates. As annoyed as you were that the plates you like broke, it gave you a reason to go domestic shopping with your boyfriend. You sighed. “No Toshi. If they were watching you, it would be when you’re playing volleyball or taking a shower.” “But you’re in the shower with me sometimes. You think they saw what we were doing?” “If they did,” you started with your eyebrows raised, “I hope they enjoy it as much I do.” He chuckled. “Why when I’m playing volleyball?” “Because that’s your job now. What else would they watch you do? Play with Leo?” He didn’t reply as he looked down to the cat in his lap. Petting it, the two of you sat in silence for a while. You finally thought he dropped the topic as you started to drift to sleep. “I wonder if the people watching like me. Or what if they think I’m the villain?” You sat up in bed. “Why would you think you would be a villain in a show about volleyball?” “I don’t know. I could be a side character that no one likes.” His voice got quieter the more he talked. “Aw, Toshi. I’m sure you have many, many fans in this parallel universe who all wish to be dating you. You never intentionally hurt anyone. You tried, in your own way, to work with Oikawa, but it’s not like you sabotaged him or anything.” He nodded. “He should’ve come to Shiratorizawa. We could’ve been that impressive first year duo instead of Hinata and Kageyama.” You rubbed his shoulder. “I know, baby. You remind me of that at least once a month.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ he would get deep ⇾ talks about his childhood where he was bullied to where he is now ⇾ while he has his insecurities, he would still be very proud of himself and how far he’s come and everything he accomplished ⇾ on the topic of being proud, he would never pass up the opportunity to talk up his bff ushi and he would hype him up even though it’s just the two of you ⇾ he wouldn’t forget about the other third years aka his other ‘best friends’ (i use quotes bc he only has eyes for ushi lezbehonest) ⇾ the talk would shift over to you and how lucky he feels to have found you ⇾ half of the things he would say would just to get you all embarrassed and shy so he could tease you about it

You woke up an hour ago because when you went to snuggle with your boyfriend, his body was missing from bed. For the last hour, he talked to you about how much he’s grown over the years, not once stopping to let you say anything. You finally had enough of this monologue. “Satori, how much more can you possibly say? It’s been a whole ass hour. Get your ass to bed so I can snuggle with you and lemme sleep.” Sighing, he walked away from the window where he was using the light from the moon to set the mood of his speech. Getting into bed, he waited until you were satisfied and closed your eyes. “But also, Wakatoshi has gotten so far on his own. I couldn’t be more proud of my best friend.” “Satori, please. For the love of God.” “Babe, you gotta let me air this out. Good communication and all that.” “We don’t have a single problem that needs to be ‘aired out’ right now. I got work in the morning and you like the sound of your own voice.” That still didn’t stop him. “And Semi, I gotta hand it to him, the man finally learned how to dress properly. And his music isn’t that bad either so I gotta find something new to annoy him with now. Reon is still keeping his fighting spirit alive and playing volleyball too. My friends, all doing so well.” Tendou glanced down at you who had fallen asleep to his heart beats. “But you. I’m the most proud of you. I’m so lucky to have found you. Not that I needed someone in my life at the time, but all the happiness you’ve given me on top of the great things in my life. You’re an amazing person, and I appreciate the impact you’ve made in my life.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ before we start with semisemi, he plays bass and sings in his band but he also plays the piano and guitar (these are MY OWN hcs, none of this is canon) ⇾ that being said, he would stay up late at night playing his guitar, working on songs and quietly singing lyrics to himself ⇾ his talks would be about purpose - like why he’s on this earth similar to hinata ⇾ aha ha ha so if yall read kuroo’s, you know how i feel about scorpios ⇾ semi babe is not safe from that either ⇾ while he is bad at opening up, he also has a short temper so expect apologies for his random outbursts from him ⇾ imma touch on this more in my semi relationship hcs so i shall stop here

You had been on your computer, finishing up some work of yours that you had been procrastinating on with Semi sitting on the couch, strumming his guitar as he worked on a new song. You hadn’t been paying attention the entire time, not until you closed your laptop and sat back in your chair. “Eita, what’s that song?” Your sudden question caused him to jump a little. “Oh, uh, I didn’t realize you were listening.” “I just heard you singing. What is that?” He rubbed the nape of his neck. “I was hoping to hold out until it was finished.” You walked over to him, draping your arms around his shoulders and leaning your weight on him. You read the lyrics he had so far, your eyes growing bigger with each line. “What… is this?” “An apology.” You pulled away from him. “I know I’m not the easiest boyfriend and that when I have a problem, I should say something rather than exploding on you over the littlest thing. I didn’t really know how else to express this without messing it all up.” “I’ve known you for a long time, I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t figure that much out.” “But still, it doesn’t mean that I should just stay this way. I should be growing with you as a person, not stuck how I am. I really do need to learn to express myself better.” You let out a small chuckle. “Like I haven’t heard that one before.” You had. Four times already. “And this will be the last. Thank you for putting up with me.” Your arms wrapped around him once again. “Next time, I expect an entire album with love songs dedicated to me. Got it?” “Well fuck, I better not mess up. I don’t have enough material for an entire love album.” You shoved him. “Hey! Maybe I will leave your sorry ass.” “I’m just kidding! Babe! Where are you going?!”

#bokuto kotaro #bokuto x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #tendou satori #tendou x reader #semi eita #semi x reader #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff

201 notes · View notes

candy-and-writing · 5 years ago

Text

What A Triple Lutz Can Do

Dark! Bucky x Ice Skater! Reader x Dark! Steve

Summary: Steve and Bucky have found each other again, after everything they've been through. When Steve meets you at the Winter Olympics, he decides you're the perfect little doll for their plan.

Warnings: non con/dub con, stalking, drugging, kidnapping, male masturbation, pet names—kitten, oral sex (female and male), fingering, poly relationship (m/m/f), somnophilia, light bondage, more to be added as the story goes on

A/N: This is loosely based off @henchry post about Chris Evans dating an ice skater. I read it and instantly had this idea, I’ve just never posted it. I think I unintentionally used bunny by @buckybarney as inspiration in making final edits. They also helped me figure out how to make this moodboard, so thank you! Please let me know if you enjoyed this, I had a lot of fun writing this!

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Before the war, before Bucky had fallen off the train and Steve crashed into the ice, before the Avengers and before and the world made Steve Rogers harder—colder—he liked to call himself a hopeless romantic. He wanted to meet eyes with someone across a diner and feel the fireworks explode in his chest. He wanted to buy a girl flowers, he wanted to walk down the streets of Brooklyn while it was snowing with her hand warming his. He wanted to buy his girl a ring, he wanted to get married, have a family.

He thought he would get that with Peggy, but he missed his chance. When he woke up in another century, he thought for sure he would never get his happily ever after. The women today were so. . . brash. A lady was supposed to be kind, polite, and dutiful. He understood that times were different, but that shouldn't excuse the ungrateful attitudes.

Then he found Bucky again, and the crazy world he had been forced into didn't seem so hopeless anymore.

Tony had received a call from the International Olympics Committee, formally inviting the Avengers to the Winter Olympics. They were in Italy this year, Milan and Cortina. It was the first Olympic Games to be held in two cities, according to Bruce.

The committee had asked Steve to conduct the medal presentations for ice skating and hockey. They wanted Thor to carry the torch for the opening ceremony, but he was off-world and unavailable.

So here Steve was, sitting in the Mediolanum Forum venue next to Sam so he could watch the ice skating events. He figured if he was going to be giving the winners their medals, he should see why they won.

The committee had given the team access to front row seating, and that's where he was when you came out.

You were the third skater, and the first American representative, to take the ice. Your hair was pulled into a braided braid low on the side of your head with a blue flower pinned above the bun. The little dress you wore was modest—the same shade of blue that matched your flower and a sleeveless neckline that connected to a sheer fabric for sleeves and a higher neck, the little flowy skirt stopping in the middle of your thigh. Lines of little jewels dipped along your bust, beads varying in size. You had makeup on, like all the previous girls, but yours was light and glittery—save for the ruby red lipstick, but even that looked classical on you. It reminded Steve of the makeup women would wear back in the thirties.

He was so focused on you that Sam had to elbow him in the ribs to get his attention. He shut his jaw then, listening to the way your name rolled off the commentator's tongue, the syllables lining and matching each other perfectly.

You were twenty-one, and this was your first time competing in the Olympics. You've competed in other national and international tournaments, and you've done good in them if he was understanding correctly. It made an odd sense of pride swell in his chest. You were skating to Disney's Beauty and the Beast.

You moved to the middle of the rink as the announcer informed the stadium who conducted and performed your piece. You had four quads set in your routine, two in the first half and two in the second. It got quiet in the arena as you raised your arm over your head and arched your back like a ballerina. Steve counted five seconds before the music started and you spun around slowly. You started to move your body and—

Oh. Oh.

Steve was sure his jaw had dropped to the floor. The way you moved was bewitching, beautifully languid yet articulate. It was like the music moved through you, coursing through your veins as you made it entirely your own, bringing something so utterly delicate and ethereal out of the melody. You made it show in your body, in your movements.

The first of your quads were coming up, something called a quadruple lutz. Steve didn't know what it was, but when you threw your leg back and jumped, spinning in the air before landing and the crowd erupted into applause, he figured you did it correctly.

Your feet glided across the ice as you skated backward, your muscles tensing—you were preparing for your next quad. You kicked your leg back and used it as momentum to jump, spinning and landing what the commentator called a quadruple flip. The crowd cheered again.

Your expression—the raw focus and determination hiding behind your eyes—was gorgeous. Your crimson lips were parted slightly, eyelids hooded as you brought your head up. The delicate expression, the way your shoulders tensed as you jumped and spun in the air once, twice, three times before you landed gracefully on your toes had the breath leaving his lungs.

It was art. You were a work of art. So beautiful he wanted to lock you behind a glass cage and put you on display. You commanded the ice as if you controlled it, with such a degree of intricacy that Steve thought if you jumped high enough or spun fast enough you would grow wings and fly away.

You were in your element. You kicked your foot back before bringing it forward, using it to start your jump. You spun in the air and landed on one foot, your other leg spread out and leading the twirl you used to end the jump. The stadium cheered, Sam said something about a triple axel.

Steve wished the song lasted forever, wished he could watch you forever, but soon there was a flute trilling and you slowed, circling back to the center of the rink and just like that—your performance was over. The crowd exploded into cheers, throwing flowers, stuffed toys, anything they had in their pockets.

You broke into a smile, your plump lips parting and bringing out your dimples. Steve swooned as you waved to the crowd, bending to pick up a rose. Your gaze met his, and he swore he felt fireworks erupt in his chest. You smiled at him before skating off the ice, hugging a man sporting a red lightweight jacket with the USA logo embroidered on the sleeve, his dark hair slicked back. Steve watched as you smiled at him, not missing the way he stared at your ass as you turned away.

Then, suddenly, you were in first place. Your eyes went wide and you jumped up, hugging the man in the red jacket—Steve assumed he was your coach. He heard your squeal above the rest of the cheers.

Even from where he was sitting, your eyes were bright, brighter than your smile. Steve was proud of you, pride swelled in his chest as he watched you speak with a reporter. His eyes stayed glued to you as you shook hands with the reporter, your coach walking you to the locker rooms. He watched you until he couldn't anymore.

A strange desire pulled at his heart as he pulled his Stark Pad out, looking you in F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s database.

After watching your performance every other skater seemed dull, incomparable, to you. The judges must have thought so, too. You stayed in first place, winning the competition.

According to F.R.I.D.A.Y, you grew up in Chicago, but you moved to Manhattan for college. You got a new coach, Adrian Tucker, who was a gold and silver medalist back in the nineties. You're a junior at NYU, majoring in Art History. You have an Instagram, some sort of social media Peter had been trying to convince him to get, and Steve created an account immediately just to follow you. You had pictures of yourself, of friends, of the rink, even a pair of ballet shoes.

So you did ballet, good to know.

The award ceremony couldn't come soon enough. The idea of being closer to you sent butterflies fluttering through his stomach. Ever since he had gotten him back, Steve and Bucky have been talking about settling down—creating a life with a girl and starting a family. But they haven't found the right partner, but maybe. . . ?

When he stood in front of you, he swore he almost stopped breathing. You were gorgeous. Your hair had been taken out of the bun, cascading down your shoulders in loose waves. Your makeup was still done the same, but he noticed light freckles dotting along the bridge of your nose. Your eyes sparkled up at him—good God, you barely stood past his chest—your painted lips parted in a smile as you took him in. He placed the gold medal around your neck, congratulating you. You whispered a small, "thank you, Captain," and Steve felt a spark of electricity jolt down his groin.

Your voice was light, melodic, quiet. You were respectful, something he valued in people, in women. He could almost imagine you posed as the perfect housewife. With the perfect husband—or husbands—with the white picket fence, the kids. He could imagine your belly swollen, the little children running around calling you 'mama'. You were young, right at that age where women would start becoming wives and mothers back in his day. The thought only made his cock harder as he watched you on the platform, waving to the audience with the biggest smile on your face.

As he sat back down next to Sam, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He pulled up Bucky's contact and sent him a picture from your Instagram.

'I think I found her,' he typed.

Bucky remembered the first time he realized he was in love with Steve—he was sixteen. He had danced around with plenty of girls already but none of them ever really seemed to stick. He had saved up enough money to spend Steve's birthday at Coney Island, that was the day he made Steve ride the Cyclone, back when he was still skinny. He had bought Steve a hotdog, which a pelican attacked him over. Bucky was crying from laughter, face red and stomach aching, when he looked over at Steve. Something just clicked then.

The past couple of months, Steve and Bucky had been making plans to add a third partner into life. After all this time, fighting Nazis and being mind-controlled and saving the universe time and time again, they both agreed they deserved it—that they deserved a family. They had both been selfless for so long, was it so wrong to want someone to be selfless for them? To want someone soft that could share their love?

Steve and Bucky were great together—the love of each other's lives, in fact—but they shared an overwhelming need to dominate, to control. On and off the field. When they fucked they were ruthless, full of scraping nails and biting teeth. Fingertips that left bruises that lasted for days. They needed someone else, someone they could focus that control on, someone who could take them so gently and lovingly, a way they rarely took each other.

Then he got Steve's text. You were young, and it wasn't hard to find out almost everything he needed to know about you. Steve helped him use F.R.I.D.A.Y to figure out where you live—a small apartment that was close to your college campus. You could walk to class if the weather permitted it. It also wasn't too far from the ice rink you trained at. It was easy for Bucky to find a building across from your suite where they could watch you. You liked to keep your window open, let the sunlight in.

They took turns sitting on the roof of the neighboring building, looking through a pair of binoculars. They would watch you for hours—watch you do simple things like reading. That was Bucky's favorite, the way your lips moved ever so slightly as you read the words on the page. You enjoyed reading horror novels—Steven King, Mary Downing Hahn, an author named Chuck Palahnuik. A worn copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein sat on your bookshelf. At first glance, Bucky never would have pegged you as a horror kind of girl, you were too sweet and too timid. As he continued to watch you through the cameras Steve had him install, though, he saw that you very much liked psychological thrillers. You would watch a show on YouTube about true crime and haunted locations, a couple of amateurs who didn't quite know what they were doing. They were funny, though. Steve and Bucky would watch you laugh as you stared at your phone, smiling to yourself.

You trained at a ballet studio in lower Manhattan, worked out at a gym a block away from that. They were quick to memorize your routine once they started. You'd wake up at five-thirty every morning and make yourself some breakfast. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday's you hit the gym and the studio; you'd go to whatever classes you had that day, grab a coffee at the campus cafe, then head to the skating rink for two hours. Two and a half hours max. You went home, studied, and then you were left to your own devices. Sometimes you read, sometimes you baked and God, Bucky almost couldn't stop drooling at the thought of tasting your cooking. You'd watch television in your small living room and be in bed no later than eleven o'clock every night to start your day again.

One Monday morning, Steve and had followed you to the gym. They'd been doing that the last few weeks. At first, Steve reasoned it was so they could watch over you, in case you got into some trouble. Some mornings they planned on running into you on the sidewalk, pretending it was an accident—there was a flower cart along your route you liked to stop and admire, sometimes buying a bouquet of daisies for your little bachelor pad—but the timing never seemed right. Steve was never wearing the right shirt, or Bucky's hair was always a mess from the wind.

You took a cab, which Steve followed a couple of cars behind on his motorcycle. The air was brisk, the first signs of spring coming into the city. Some of the trees had started growing their leaves again, vibrant greens against the grey winter sky. He parked his bike underneath a plotted tree that had just started to turn, the tips of the leaves a bright green as blossoms began to bloom, pastel pinks against vibrant greens with petals blowing in the wind. He bought a newspaper from a vendor a couple of stores down and sat on a nearby bench, catching up with the world as he counted down the minutes. You would be in there for an hour and fifteen minutes almost exactly.

Steve almost couldn't sit still. He was itching to get his hands on you, to feel you. He and Bucky have been watching you for a long time now, waiting for the right moment to get their hands on you. Steve was growing impatient.

At forty-five minutes, his eyes began to flick up at the building every few minutes. He knew it wasn't time yet, but there was always a chance you got done early.

At an hour, his gaze hovered just above the paper. Ten more minutes, he told himself.

At an hour and twelve minutes, you emerged. Steve watched as you hugged your coat to your chest and began walking. The studio you danced at was only a block away, so you wouldn't have to be out in the cold for long. Still, Steve couldn't help but chastise you for not wearing something warmer. All you had on were a pair of thin leggings—that hugged your ass beautifully, he might add—and a compression tank top under your lightweight sweater.

Steve rushed to his bike, folding the newspaper in his hand and revving up the engine. He drove down the block, parking in front of a cafe across from the ballet studio. He watched you enter the studio and sat at a table, ordering a cup of coffee. He saw you through the floor-to-ceiling windows, your let stretched up over your head. He reached for his sketchbook and pencil, laying it out on the table before him.

The night of the Olympics, the first time after Steve had seen you, he stayed up all night drawing you. He found a video of your performance on the internet, watching it on repeat as he drew you in different positions. The first sketch he did was of you with your arm over your head, just before you started skating. He found he loved drawing the shape of your lips, so the next sketch was a portrait of your face. Your long lashes were hooded, eyes downcast and your lips parted slightly as the pencil scratched against the paper, your plump lips etched in charcoal. The expression Steve caught you in was oddly ethereal, the kind of innocence that Steve found absolutely breathtaking.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Steve sighed, pulling the device out of his jeans. Cursing, he reread the message Sam sent, looking back up across the street. You were still in front of the window, leg propped up on a bar with your upper body reaching for your foot. He sighed, closing his sketchbook as he stomped toward his bike.

Steve and Bucky trudged back into the Compound, exhausted and irritated. Not only have they been unable to see you for a week and a half, forced to watch you through the cameras hidden throughout your apartment, but the mission had been a complete bust. They had been sent away to Northern Peru, where Fury had given them intel about a group of HYDRA smugglers shipping illegal weapons into the country. Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky spent twelve days in a cramped, boiling building across from the target's warehouse and managed to find nothing before Fury called them back.

Steve was sweaty, Bucky hadn't taken a shower in a week, and they missed you. Bucky wanted to touch you, he wanted to kiss you until you were breathless. He watched you on his phone when he could, often opting to watch the camera feed than to sleep.

Once they were in their suite, Steve stripped his uniform off, leaving it in a heap on the floor to pick up later. Right now he just wanted to feel clean. He turned the shower on and peeled his boxers off as Bucky undressed, Steve stepping below the showerhead. The warm water felt nice against his taut muscles, his shoulders relaxing under the water pressure. He watched the dirt and grime from the mission get washed away, down the drain in muddy-grey color.

As he massaged shampoo through his hair, his thoughts wandered back to you, fingers itching to run against your skin. The way your lips always looked so soft, how utterly delicious you would look with them wrapped around his cock. The sweet little noises you would make as he forced himself down your throat—you were so small, it wouldn't take much to make you choke on him.

Steve groaned as his fist wrapped around his length. Almost two weeks without imagining you on your knees, imagining your mouth on him and he was oh so sensitive. He cursed, running his thumb over his slit. He pictured your tongue dragging against his girth, your wrecked expression as you struggled to take him deeper, as Bucky struggled to fit himself in behind you. He fisted himself faster, gasping out your name.

"Yeah, baby," he mumbled to himself. "Just like that. Fuck."

He could only imagine how beautiful you would look when you came. Your skin sweaty, hips bucking, your innocent little eyes rolling to the back of your head as you squealed. Oh, you were definitely a squealer. They would make you cum over and over and—

He bit back a moan as he came, hot white spurts coating his stomach as he slowed his movements, nerves on fire. He sighed, rinsing himself off before he turned the water off. He was still hard, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get himself off.

The tips of his fingers buzzed as he redressed himself and Bucky hopped in the shower. Steve didn't know if it was the stress of the mission or the adrenaline you gave him, but he couldn't wait anymore. He didn't have the patience to wait anymore.

He was watching the camera feeds in your apartment when Bucky came out of the bathroom. All it took was one look from Steve—they already had it all planned out, they just had to put it into motion.

You struggled to unlock your door, twisting the key in the lock a few times, cursing as you pushed your shoulder against the door, stumbling as the door swung open. You managed to catch yourself before knocking over your vase of daisies, straightening as you waited for your world to stop spinning.

You knew it had been a bad idea when you agreed to go out tonight. You're such a lightweight and after just three shots and half a glass of wine, you're going to have a killer hangover in the morning. God, and it's three a.m. But Annie had begged you to come with them. You haven't hung out with her in so long, you were desperate to see her again. You just wished she hadn't dragged you out to a bar.

You dropped your handbag on your little dining room table, opening the refrigerator to pour yourself a glass of orange juice. You drank half the glass in a couple of gulps, letting out a sigh as you set the glass down. As you moved to pull your phone out of your purse, you heard the floorboards creak, like someone was taking a step.

You froze, looking down the hall. The boards in your bedroom creak like that when you step down on a certain spot, but you've been in the apartment long enough to learn where it is exactly and step around it.

As quietly as you could, you made your way down the hall, checking the bathroom. You've seen enough horror movies in your life to know never to close the shower curtain when you weren't using it, so with a quick glance you knew the room was empty.

Your bedroom was at the end of the hall, the door cracked open. You walked in, carefully looking around. Your closet door was open, the windows were closed, you turned and looked towards your dresser mirror and—

You saw the figure behind you before you could react. Your eyes went wide, their hand coming up to cover your mouth before you could muster a scream. Your hands flew up to the hand, legs kicking out as the intruder dragged you out of your bedroom. You screamed into the hand, thrashing as you felt a sharp prick in your neck.

"It's alright," they cooed. "Shhh, it's okay, doll. You're just gonna go to sleep for a little while, okay?"

You shook your head frantically, tears streaming down your face as you felt your body getting tired. You blinked furiously, trying to fight the sleepy feeling. Your muscles felt like dead weight, you stopped kicking your feet as your grip on the man's cold hand went slack.

"That's a good girl," he crooned. "Just relax, kitten. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. Your vision blurred, and then everything went black.

437 notes · View notes

angst-king · 3 years ago

Text

Seeing red pt 1

(TW mention of sexual exploitation/abuse, ablism, physical and verbal abuse, transphobia, homophobia, emotional abuse, & attempted suicide)

(i will also be using she/her pronouns on Kiri for the first chapter and half of the second chapter) “That was fun, damn you were so good for me tonight kitten.” A soft out of breath voice calls out, the girl quickly grabs her things, slipping her clothes back on and she's almost out the door before the girl on the bed adds. “Hey, money’s on the dresser, take what you want kitten, you did so well~” Her voice purs, taking the money she hurried out the door, and soon out of the apartment complex. Walking the cold dark streets in the chilly night, the girl grabs her phone and calls someone. “H-hello?” Her voice was soft and shaky “hey there Ijima, did you have to ‘go out’ again?” “m-mhm, I d-don’t wanna go home Ashido.” “I know you don’t, just come on over, I’ll get you some clothes okay.” “O-okay, s-see you in a bit Ashi” “See ya Kiri” The two hung up and her steps quickened into a run.

She was so glad the ashido house had always welcomed her, whether it was after school, or late into the night to the ass crack of dawn. Her quiet feet brought her to a familiar street and soon to the house she could finally rest at. She was tired, barely holding herself up shaky legs that were weak from her previous activities. Knocking on the door, she could barely hold herself up, the door had opened just in time. A girl with pink hair and black roots opened the door, she was dressed in her pajamas with a slight look of sleep on her face clouding those bright yellow eyes. “Th-thanks Ashido” She says, hurrying into the house, stumbling. The girl catches her waking up more. “God Kirishima be careful, I’ve got ya, let's get you showered and into some better clothes. Ashido says softly to Kirishima who tries to balance herself but still needs assistance.

“I’ve got ya, now come on, you need a bath hun.” Ashido closes the front door, and leads Kirishima up the stairs and into a bathroom, giving the girl privacy. Ashido found some comfortable clothes for Kirishima.

Kirishima wasn’t in there long seeing as she could hardly stand up straight it was quick but good enough to get the smell of sex, and stickiness of shared bodily fluids. Her hair loosely tied up as she comes out in a towel, Mina hands her the clothes. Kirishima heads back into the bathroom and changes. Coming out once more, she’s shaking but clothed and dry, Mina hated to see her friend so hurt. There was a dull look in those ruby eyes, her lips small and barely able to hold the weight of a smile during a time like this. She was tired, sore, and worst of all, she was numb. She sunk to her knees on the floor in the pink haired girl’s bedroom. She began to shake harder, holding onto herself, fingers tightly gripping her slim biceps. Face towards the floor, only light snivels and whimpers could be heard from the ravenette.

Coming over to comfort the girl, Ashido knelt down and gently pulled her into her loving frame. Flinching, it only took a second before a choked sob erupted and the young Kirishima started to cry. Her body going slack in her friend’s hold as tears rained down from her eyes dampening the shoulder she cried on. All the other could do was rub her back and hold her close and offer advice. There were moments upon moments of quiet sobbing before her words came out in a stammer.

“A-Ashido, I-I wanna die, please.” Her voice pleaded, shaking her head the pink haired teen tried to persuade her. “No Kiri, i’m sorry I can’t let you do that-” “pl-please, just give me a bottle of pills, cough syrup, a knife, something! Please Mina! Let me die already!!” She exclaimed, pressing her friend into allowing her to silence her inner demons. “Shhh Kiri, I’m sorry I know you do but, I can’t let you do that please, we’re gonna get you help, i know you need it, but we still gotta figure out a way to do that. Just hang in there please, you’re safe with me.” All Kirishima could do was nod and cry till she fell asleep.

Morning came and Kirishima was soon returned back home against their will yet she knew she couldn’t stay with the Ashidos forever. She already felt like a burden to them for having to come to them for food and clothes and even comfort or a place to escape. Walking up to the door, she knocked and waited for the door to be unlocked. A soft jingle jangle came and the door opened, stepping in she saw her mother smiling. “Finally you’re home, so how’d it go hun, did ya have fun?” She asked excitedly, the memories of the night before made her queasy to think about so she shook her head. “M-mom please I-I need to go lay down, I don’t feel good.” Frowning, the woman closes the door, rolling her eyes. “Oh please Ijima stop that, you’re fine, you’re always saying that or doing that stupid thing where you fall and pretend to have a seizure. I know you’re just doing it for attention.” Ijima sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’m not faking seizures for attention, why can’t you just believe me?” That earned her a harsh shove into the wall behind her, piercing red eyes glaring into scared ones that were once dull a second ago but now filled with fear. “Because I said so! Because I don’t have to believe you, I am the parent and you are MY child!” The more she spoke the louder Ijima’s mother’s voice got to the point of yelling. Ijima began to cower and shake from terror. “Honestly Ijima you have all of these stupid ‘problems’ like your ‘epilepsy’ or you saying you want to be a boy. Do you really think anyone’s gonna love a retarted tranny?!!” The slurs hurt but her phrases hurt the worst “Do you honestly think someone’s gonna wanna take care of you? No one is going to love you like that, no one wants someone like that! Get that through your head!” Her last words, Ijima was grabbed by her hair and her head was repeatedly bashed against the wall. Each slam made her feel weaker and weaker.

Dropping to her knees, Ijima went limp on the floor, the pounding radiated through her skull, causing her hands to tremble but she forced herself to silently walk up to her room. Each step, she wants to cry but biting her lip is the only thing keeping her from letting the floodgates break. She could feel her mind filling with static so she’d better hurry her pace, or if she didn’t she wouldn’t know what hit her.

Once in her own room, she let go, her entire being was weak. She collapsed with a thud onto the floor. Tensed and tight her body spasmed and jerked, eyes rolling back, she was defenseless and unable to do anything if anyone were to find her with plans in their head. Luckily her mother decided to leave her be for the time being. She’d wake up feeling sick, her body sore and tired, her vision gone. She was vulnerable and she hated it, unable to speak properly, ask for help, or even think of it. Who would help her anyway, it's not like she couldn’t do it herself. It took a bit of trying but she’d manage to get herself up right and into bed, which would lead to sleeping the day away or laying in bed until the nausea got worse enough to get sick.

When she woke up, she had no idea as to where she was. Her vision black, her skin was ice cold, and her stomach was sloshing queasily. Even without knowing her surroundings she forced herself to move. She stretched uncomfortably, her body was sore and achy from the seizure. Once she had stretched, she scooted her way around her room until she found her bed. Blindly searching the climbing up into her bed to lay down. It was exhausting and not to mention her nightly activities from the day before still left her exhausted. She ended up going back to sleep, she wanted to sleep away her days, she hated waking up. She hated opening her eyes and would sometimes pretend to be ‘out’ longer after a seizure just so people would leave her alone but. That didn’t always work, sometimes she would actually have another seizure, or someone would try and hurt her. Mainly the girls at school, they would just watch her convulse on the floor, step on her, take pictures or videos and post them around the school, or just gossip about her in general. Ijima wished she never had to wake up, and those urges grew stronger and stronger with each day until.

Today. She’d slept through yesterday but even now she felt horrible. Her vision hadn’t returned fully yet, it was spotty and blurry. She wasn’t mentally awake yet either, she had such horrible brain fog she could hardly register the screaming coming from outside her bedroom door. It was too late and in came her screaming mother. “IJIMA YOU CAN HEAR ME I KNOW YOU’RE AWAKE!” Ijima flinched, her eyes weren’t adjusting as quickly as she’d like and neither was her brain. Even though the screaming woke her up as the woman came barging in towards her. “WHY THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN IGNORING ME?!! I CALLED YOUR NAME SO MANY TIMES, YOU OVERSLEPT AND YOU’RE LATE FOR SCHOOL AND DON’T GIVE ME THIS ‘I HAD A SEIZURE' BULLSHIT CAUSE YOU’RE JUST A LYING BITCH WANTING ATTENTION!” The screaming scared her into a panic, she hated screaming, especially when her vision wasn’t right. If her vision was faulty her hearing would pick up the slack and so did every other sense. It made every sound more pronounced to the point where she could feel the venom in her mother’s words. Ijima was shaking as tears unknowingly ran down her face, she only knew this when she pointed it out. “Oh stop acting like this you brat, you’re so pitiful Emma left because of you. She didn’t want someone like you! She’d still be here if you weren’t so selfish!” A pillow was shoved over her face and held there but that didn’t muffle Ijima’s hearing. Ijima although used to hearing her mother say this, always hurt deep inside and the woman knew that. Emma was Ijima’s other mom, Emma joined the military a little after Ijima had started showing signs of epilepsy which only made Ijima more inclined to believe what the other woman known as Ito had told her. It was always a reminder, Ijima always felt responsible for Emma’s leaving but also felt betrayal and pain that no one would love her. Her own mother left her to join the military in order to avoid taking care of her. “Just go, get ready for school” Ito said coldly, getting up and releasing the pillow that suffocated Ijima. Ijima did her best to rise on her feet, steadying herself on the floor as her mother left her to get ready.

Ijima did her usual routine even when she’d had epileptic episodes that left her still rather disoriented. Though while in the bathroom a little voice in her head spoke to her. ‘Get those tums and take ‘em at school, see how many you can take before you die?’ With the suggestion she went through her medicine cabinet which really only held a bottle of tums, extra toothbrushes and toothpaste. Ijima grabbed the tums and snuck them into her bag before continuing her routine. She skipped breakfast. On her way to school, she always stopped by Mina’s house knocking on the door, it isn’t long before the pink haired girl appears. “Hey there Kiri!” Ijima didn’t bother to make a smile, she couldn’t, the weight of it was too heavy for those weak lips. Her hands were shaky, and her eyes were dead on the outside but if you looked deep enough you could see the pain. Ijima was quieter than usual, all she did was pretend to listen to Mina talk about gossip, magazines, typical girl things that she always spoke of. Ijima wasn’t truly listening, she was spacing out, her mind was filled with static but also the obsession of death. She didn’t want to live any longer and she’d take any out she could. Maybe if she downed the entire bottle of tums it’ll be enough to kill her? Though if another opportunity presented itself to her, she’d take it. She couldn’t stand being on this earth any longer. She couldn’t stand being around girls, they were deceptive, deceitful, demanding, cold, and selfish. The only girl she could trust was Mina, Mina always proved to Ijima that she was a loyal friend. Mina was actually the only one who treated Ijima well. Even though she had met some bad men or boys, awful girls or women were a lot more prominent in her life. Ijima was done with it, why should she have to suffer due to her mother’s ideologies?!

As they made their way to school they had to cross busy streets that were filled with cars rushing to their destinations. When Ijima got an impulsive thought ‘jump into traffic’ She could hear the cars coming and would Mina even be able to stop her in time? And would the car even stop in time? She’d have to time it just right. The cross walk was still being held up as the car zoomed down the lane when Ijima saw a truck coming barrelling down the street. Her mind raced yet was clouded by multiple loud ones that screamed ‘DO IT! JUMP!’.’DO IT YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT’ ‘YEAH DO IT, NO ONE’S GONNA MISS YOU!’ ‘FINALLY AN ESCAPE, YOU CAN’T FAIL NOW!’ ‘DO IT! JUMP’ The truck was getting closer and Ijima didn’t even fight the voices.

Everything was a blur, a scream and sickening thud and crunch. Then it went black.

Waking up to a loud beeping sound, Ijima’s eyes struggled to open and adjust to the bright lights and whiteness of the hospital. The brightness was blinding to her eyes as they’d been used to the dark for some time now. Eyes looking around, they’re met with white walls, white sheets, white bandages wrapped around her wrists and even around some of her torso. As she became more and more awake, Ijima started to feel the pain. It was a dull aching pain, but it wasn’t just physical. Oh no this was mental. Sure her ribs had been cracked, she sustained a mild concussion, lacerations from the truck, and had a few seizures. The mental pain was way worse, she didn’t want to wake up today, she didn’t wanna wake up ever! She didn’t want to make it, this wasn’t her goal to wake up in a hospital! She wanted to be dead! Gone, away from the hell her mother puts her through even if she deserves it! ‘Why?! Why couldn’t they just leave me for dead!??’ She thought to herself as tears welled up in her eyes. Everything was building up at once, her emotions filled her even if she still felt numb to some extent she finally screamed as her emotions spilled like an overflowing sink.

“Why! Why couldn’t you all just let me fucking die!?!! PLEASE JUST KILL ME!” Even with her voice breaking between her words it was loud enough to be heard from out the door. Grabbing harshly at her long black hair, tangling it between her fingers tightly with white knuckle gripping. She cried, sobbed more like it. It was so overwhelming to try and find another way to just end it as she wanted her life to be over so badly. She wanted to bleed out on the floor and never wake up again. Her eyes darted around but she noticed that the only thing in the room was her bed, the vitals machine, and an IV pole with a line or two or fluids that were connected to Ijima. Seeing the bandages around her arms she unravels them revealing several lacerations that were still rather fresh looking. With her sharp shark-like teeth, she raises an arm towards her lips, opens her mouth and chomps down as hard as she could. Blood floods her mouth like an ocean flooding the tidal pools of its beach. The taste of Iron coats her tongue, discolor’s her teeth, and drips down her lips escaping to splatter onto her blue hospital gown. Hearing the screams, a nurse came to check up on Ijima who was horrified to witness Ijima’s desperate method of self harm. She ran to get a doctor when Ijima detached her mouth from her arm. Blood pouring and adding to the small drips and splatters on her gown. Large splatters of the crimson fluid painted the blue gown discoloring it to a somewhat purple hue. When the nurse urgently returned with a doctor and another nurse the doctor was just as surprised!

First they had to tie Ijima down, placing straps over her to keep her from trying anything else.

While she was being strapped down the doctor and a nurse worked to repair Ijima’s arm, she tried to fight them but in the end she was immobilized. Tired of fighting the doctor all she could do was cry and mutter about why couldn’t they just let her die. The process of actually fixing her arm was a little extensive. They had to stop the bleeding, then see how far the damage went before deciding on what they’d have to do. Even though she didn’t break any bones, the doctor decided to cast both her arms to keep her from trying to bite herself again. She ended up being put to sleep this time.

#my psych academia #kiribakupsychward #abused Kirishima #transkirishima #epiletic Kirishima

18 notes · View notes

clayandstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Becho Musings Part 2

Some more musings about Becho while simultaneously addressing unfounded blorke takes that make my blood boil and have no basis in reality. Focusing on S5 and on since I’ve already covered Becho’s relationship before they got together, this will look at them specifically as a couple. Posting this for posterity on my blog.

TL;DR

Not to accidentally validate any of these blorke claims by talking about them or giving them attention, but they’re so easily debunked by canon I can’t help myself...

Garbage take #1

Echo is just following Bellamy, she doesn’t love him, he is her King, they have a spy/king dynamic (lmao this isn’t even a real thing like wtf does this mean? You can tell blorkes are pressed about the knight/princess racist trope their ship falls into but you can’t just make things up! What a sad, misguided attempt to create a false equivalence between bellarke and Becho. A spy/king dynamic is literally not a thing - and unsurprisingly, it doesn’t accurately represent the relationship between Bellamy and Echo at all - but nice try I guess), Echo is only looking for someone to follow and take orders from, etc.

There’s so much to break down in this hot garbage take:

Before I get into absolutely destroying this hot garbage, let’s quickly address how the subtle framing of these “arguments” purposefully doesn’t acknowledge Bellamy’s feelings for Echo. Attempting to discredit Becho by designating Echo as a follower deliberately disregards Bellamy’s active role in his relationship and his feelings for her. Bellamy loves Echo and that’s clear throughout the show, but it’s wonderfully vocalized on screen multiple times in S5. Bellamy considers Echo his family (5x01 “we’re family and nothing can change that”) and it’s explicitly verbalized in 5x07 (”Our friends are there. People we love”) and once again in 5x12, from Clarke herself, when she told Echo “Bellamy loved you”. So, ya know, Bellamy loves Echo. That’s not debatable.

So first off, Echo’s relationship with Bellamy is not at all like her relationship to the Azgeda royal family (who she was in servitude of and essentially employed by). This is one of the worst takes I’ve ever seen and I’m not sure how anyone can logically come to that conclusion? (Which is mainly due to the fact that this claim is made in bad faith and isn’t actually based on logic or what we’ve seen in canon, but I digress). Not to mention Echo refers to Roan and Nia with honorifics and obviously does NOT do that with Bellamy, seriously wtf show are blorkes watching... Being loyal or devoted to someone does not mean the same thing for every relationship. Context matters. People can be loyal to each other for a variety or reasons, family/survival/clan/duty/temporary alliance/self-preservation/etc. Echo's never even hugged Roan, that already contextually makes her relationship with Bellamy very different from her relationship with Roan. Being devoted to someone because it's your job to protect the royal family (as a member of the Queen's guard and spy for the Ice Nation) is not the same as being devoted to someone because you are in love with them, in a romantic relationship with them, and want to keep them safe because they’re precious to you. Hello??

The other glaring inaccuracy with this garbage take is that Echo is not someone who just follows people or orders. That’s never been her character. She is a soldier, like Bellamy - but even when she was loyal to Azgeda she was never just a good little follower. She singlehandedly took control of Polis for Azgeda and commanded the entire Azgeda army in Roan’s absence. She doesn’t sit around waiting for people to give her orders or tell her what to do next. That’s simply contradictory to what we’ve actually been shown on the show. Mischaracterizing her as such is nothing more than a blorke ploy to minimize (and outright ignore) her strengths and agency as a character, intentionally erasing the fact that she is a brilliant strategist, skilled warrior, and a trusted political confidant.

Also, did blorkes forget that she’s literally a goddamn spy?! Being a spy is not the job for a follower who can’t think for themselves and needs someone to take orders from. A spy is given a mission and it’s up to them alone to make it happen. There’s actually an enormous amount of freedom and trust given to a spy. No one gives you step-by-step instructions to achieve your goal. You are literally on your own, often in enemy territory, having to think on your feet, adapt, and come up with a plan to get the job done. Oops embarrassing they forgot she’s a spy (it’s laughable to watch S7 and think she would ever actually betray her friends. She. Is. A. Spy. Infiltration is her job - we even saw her successfully infiltrate Diyoza’s camp in S5 and Diyoza herself actually admits she “got played” by Echo - CMON. Loyalty is her defining characteristic. PAY ATTENTION)

Calling her a follower is such a gross mischaracterization. Just look at her relationship with Roan (her actual King). She constantly argues with him, gives him push back, and even insinuates that he’s weak (to his face) on more than one occasion (in 4x01 when she flat out tells him “we can’t afford for our people to think you’re weak” and he gets offended enough to call her out on it, and then again when she’s sparring with him in 4x02 and offers to take his place once she knocks him on his ass). She doesn't even follow orders all that well if we're being honest (bless her little panda heart). She's the one who tells Roan to "send me to Arkadia" when she thinks Skaikru isn't being honest. She's the one telling Roan, the king, what to do! Not only does he let her talk to him like that, he actually values what she has to say.

Furthermore, the one time we see Roan actually give her a direct order (to bring Octavia back alive) Echo ends up NOT doing that (lol). She isn’t afraid to speak her mind or make her own decisions. One of her biggest character defining moments (that gets her banished from her clan) is when she decides to act of her own volition and go directly behind Roan’s back, to cheat in the conclave. No one ordered her to do that, it was all her. And there’s also all of the S7 Bardo Disciples plot which further proves that Echo isn’t just some mindless follower (cough cough Bellamy with the Shepard cough cough and Pike...). She’s always been her own person who thinks for herself and does what she believes is best for her people. (Even as far back as her introduction in S2 when she realizes Bellamy is Skaikru but still decides to trust and work with him in Mt. Weather. She also silences all those grounders in the cages with a single command and they ALL shut up and obey her, but sure yeah she’s just a follower 🙄🙄🙄)

So now that we’ve established how she interacts with Roan, let’s look at how she interacts with Bellamy. I’ve already detailed their attitude towards each other before they get together here, but now let’s look at how they act as a couple.

In S5, we see in their first scene together that they are very affectionate towards one another (so much kissing, arm rubbing, smiling, and forehead touching) as they mutually comfort each other. Echo is apprehensive about things changing on the ground because of Octavia and the fact that she’s still banished, but Bellamy makes an effort to get her to smile (even going so far as to joke about her “almost killing” his sister and him being more stubborn than Octavia. He gets her to laugh with him and even exclaims “good!” once she finally relaxes and smiles). He also tells her “we’re family and nothing can change that” - very different from her relationship with Nia (who Echo bowed down to when in her presence) who used Echo as spy/weapon of war, and Roan, who cast her out after using her political knowhow to effectively lead. Then on the Eligius ship in 5x03 they get their battle couple on by working together and fighting side-by-side to take out the prisoner who woke up. Later in that same episode, they jointly come up with a plan to deal with the cryo-sleeping prisoners that isn’t just murdering them (ultimately utilizing Echo’s plan to use them as leverage since Bellamy doesn’t want to kill them and Echo knows that it’s a strategic mistake to leave their enemy with reinforcements if they can stop it). When they don’t agree on something, they always talk it through and compromise (a sign of a healthy and mature relationship, where both people are regarded as equals and their input is valued).

Also, Echo was the one who came up with the plan to counter McCreary’s forces when he’d stolen Diyoza’s battle plans. Echo and Bellamy share a voiceover as they both relay the plan simultaneously to their separate groups. Once Bellamy finishes explaining, Octavia says to him “tell Echo I said well done”, giving Echo credit and acknowledging the fact that this is indeed Echo’s idea. Can someone kindly point me to where Echo is being a follower waiting patiently to be given her orders from her “King”?? Because as far as I can tell that never actually happens...

Side note, anyone else remember how blorkes were irate that Echo was the one leading Spacekru at the end of s5. They complained that it didn’t make sense for Echo to be in charge because “Raven was smarter” and Echo was being “so bossy”. Let’s just take a moment to acknowledge the contradictory nature of the arguments “Echo is so bossy and leading Spacekru” but also “she’s just a follower with a spy/king dynamic to Bellamy”. She can’t be both 🤣 stick to a story please. (Also, I LOVE Raven so this is in no way me shading Raven, she’s amazing and brilliant). Bonus: when the show runner is sick of your garbage takes and calls you out

To reiterate, the contradictory claims and clear disregard for facts and the truth of the show just further proves that their “complaints” are made entirely in bad faith. They are rejecting reality and demonstrate no comprehension of canon - their garbage takes should not hold any weight and are merely a form of lashing out because they’re upset their fanon ship never happened.

Getting back on topic...

So, S5 is where Becho are canonically established as a romantic relationship and the audience gets to see, for the first time, how they interact after 6 years in space and falling love. (Can I just point out that the entire purpose of a time jump is to have our characters change and be in emotionally new and different places - it’s a storytelling device to change the status quo and shake things up - it’s perfectly acceptable to have Becho get together during it given their history with one another. I address this in more detail later so we’ll put a pin in this for now)

Once they get down to the ground, Bellamy fights for Echo (both figuratively and literally) with Octavia and at every turn he doubles down on his love for Echo. To summarize, Echo won’t turn in the defectors and is willing to be banished for it, leaving Bellamy to stay in Polis with Octavia so he can still have a relationship with his sister. However, Bellamy won’t let Echo do that. He doesn’t want her to leave and he doesn’t want to be apart from her. He offers to defect with her! He would chose to give up his relationship with Octavia and Clarke (who he just found out was alive and reunited with) to be with Echo. Echo doesn’t like that plan because she doesn’t want Bellamy to be in harm’s way. She even tells him “we’ve been through this. You’re not going with me” to which he responds “like hell I’m not!” and she tells him “you are not dying for me”. Bellamy seems inconsolable at the thought of her leaving and can’t even look Echo in the eye when he’s telling her that he’ll be in the rover and it’ll only take him a few days to get to her, and once again Echo comforts and reassures him.

While Echo is at Diyoza’s camp trying to take down the eye, Bellamy has been staring at the monitor nonstop for 8 hours waiting for any change or sign that Echo made it there safely. Harper has to come in and tell him "you've been staring at that all night" and to “go, get some sleep”, knowing that if left on his own he would emotionally exhaust himself worrying about Echo and her safety indefinitely. Bellamy responds that the eye should be down by now and even says that he "wishes it was me over there". (This line reminds me of when he took her place in Mt. Weather to get bled in the harvest chamber. He is always willing to put himself in her place if it means getting her out of danger - he loves her and would do whatever it takes to keep her out of harm’s way).

Eventually Bellamy marches through the desert and carries Echo’s sword for her. He even sits by the fire and holds onto her sword because he can’t reach out and hold Echo (meanwhile Echo is being comforted by Emori that she’ll be together with Bellamy soon - I love a good yearning parallel!). When they reunite at the end of the season, they hug, grip each other tightly, and stay pressed together just being in each other’s embrace (again, this is NOT how she acted with Roan or Nia... this is a romantic relationship, and it's obviously played out on screen very differently. Echo never received a singe bit of comfort - physical or otherwise - from anyone in Azgeda).

Before they get out of the rover after rescuing Octavia, the minute Echo and Bellamy are reunited, Bellamy reaches out for Echo's hand and holds it (a callback to earlier in the season when he was reaching out for and grabbing onto her sword in her absence). Then they battle-couple-it-up again and take out the gunners making it possible for Wonkru to march through the gorge. They are equals (and partners) on and off the battle field.

S5 ends with Bellamy staring at Echo in cryosleep, yearning for her once again. And in S6 right off the bat they compromise with each other to get things done. The planet is dangerous and Bellamy doesn’t want to take fighters but Echo counters that it might be a mistake not to bring their to best fighters (Echo vouches for Octavia here) and Bellamy doesn’t want Octavia to come so instead he agrees to wake up Miller - another compromise where they make decisions together and work as a team. In S6 we also see in real-time Echo opening up to Bellamy and trusting him enough to let him in to her traumatic past, strengthening their relationship (directly in front of the audience) as Bellamy promises “from now on, we look forward not back” and comforts her with a loving forehead touch and a kiss.

Bellamy and Echo both come up with the plan to rescue Clarke from Josephine (Echo directly gives Bellamy the go ahead to “go save Clarke” while she stays back and saves the rest of their friends after they set off the EMP taking down the radiation shield). While Bellamy is in the forest, he expresses regret and worry for Echo explicitly two separate times (Bellamy asks Clarke “what about the people I left behind” and Clarke assures him his actions helped to keep Echo specifically (as well as Madi) safe. He has another separate conversation with Octavia about Echo where Octavia reassures him that “Echo’s strong” and “she’ll be okay”). Bellamy also gets more reassurance from Murphy, who informs him that “Echo is in trouble” but he’ll “do what [he] can for her”. He tries to console Bellamy because Bellamy is currently captured and can’t get to her to help. Once Bellamy returns from his mission in the forest, he sees Echo smiling right at him and he sprints into her arms, hugging her desperately and smiling into her shoulder with his eyes closed. Becho is a loving, healthy, mature relationship filled with trust and mutual respect, where both people are treated as equals.

So yeah, no follower spy king dynamic BS. Equal partners in love.

Garbage take #2

Becho is toxic because he got mad at her and called her a spy, etc.

Blorkes love to incorrectly imply that Bellamy’s little outburst in 6x04 at the party means that “Becho is toxic”. Well, if you actually watch the rest of the episode you’d see that there was a loving resolution to this “fight” 🙄

As Echo is walking away from Bellamy at the party, Bellamy instantly hangs his head in regret. He then immediately goes to find her and apologizes. He tells her “I’m a jerk. I was taking my feelings about Octavia out on you” and “I’m sorry”. Then we see Echo open up to him about her past and would you look at that! Their romantic relationship is being explicitly developed on screen! The trust! The love! The tears in Bellamy’s eyes as he listens (it hurts him just to hear what she’s been through)! The way he gets up on his bad leg (thanks Clarke) and goes to comfort her, kisses her head before he even sits down and tells her “Everything we’ve been through has brought us here. From now on, we look forward, not back”, fully committed to her and reaffirming that they’re in this together. Then Bellamy touches his forehead to Echo’s, but that’s not close enough so they kiss to be together. Their love is so palpable.

Show me where this is toxic??? Because it’s not and you can’t just say things. Words have meaning. I don’t understand how anyone can deny that lovingly resolving a misunderstanding only strengthens Becho. Getting in disagreements/arguments is part of every relationship. Becho having one (one-sided) “fight” doesn’t make them toxic. Especially when Bellamy immediately goes to apologize, knows that what he did was wrong and wasn’t fair, and they talk about their feelings and work through it together. That’s like the exact opposite of being toxic.

It's fine not to ship them, but there's no need to be willfully obtuse about canon or what the show presents. Their romantic relationship is not toxic and is arguably the healthiest one on the show.

Garbage take #3

Becho’s development happened off screen, Becho has no development, etc.

In season 5 Bellamy and Echo are revealed to be in a romantic relationship. I’ve already addressed how the ‘no development’ claim is just a blatant lie, so I won’t repeat myself here (you can just read about it in my other post which was previously linked). But let’s talk about why this “argument” is also pretty garbage and is once again made in bad faith.

S5 is THE definitive Becho season (and it absolutely slaps). Blorkes couldn’t accept that Becho were a couple because they intentionally chose to ignore all of their previous development and then had the nerve to (falsely) claim that it all happened off screen. (Which is blatantly untrue, but even if it was true - quick reminder that “lack of development” doesn’t seem to be an issue for Marper - it’s just a problem for Becho 🙄 even though most of S4 was explicitly focused on developing Bellamy and Echo’s relationship while Harper and Monty had sex once and then were instantly a couple...hypocrites 🤷). It’s the flagrant refusal to accept what’s being shown on screen that bothers me. You don’t need to make up lies and spread asinine comments about the characters - you can just acknowledge that the show is going down a route you don’t personally like. You don’t need to twist yourselves into a pretzel to justify your preferred ship. Just be honest about what’s really upsetting you.

I’ll admit that it’s fair to say you wished we could have seen more of their development becoming explicitly romantic, but the ground work is absolutely there and to say there’s NO development and that it all happened off screen (ala Gina the walking plot device who didn’t exist as a character until she showed up as Bellamy’s gf for all of 5 mins before getting killed off) is just simply untrue. And while I’m addressing genuine criticism/complaints, it’s definitely frustrating that we never got to see any flashbacks of the Ring during S5 despite getting to see both Clarke and the Bunker during the 6 year jump. Thankfully, we did eventually get to see Becho’s first kiss flashback (swoon 🥰) in S7 but even without explicitly seeing Spacekru flashbacks during S5, all of Becho and Spacekru’s interactions throughout the season made it perfectly clear how much they all loved each other and were a family. The writing and character interactions easily convey to the audience Spacekru’s closeness and tightknit bond and it was a joy to watch. Because Octavia becomes Blodreina, you need to see at least some of how that happened, so we get bunker flashbacks. And Madi is an entirely new character, so we have to see how she met Clarke. But it’s actually not that big of a leap to get to romantic Becho since it was clearly set up (we also don’t see Memori break up, but again it’s not a big leap to understand why they would given the explanation we got), so Spacekru flashbacks aren’t actually necessary although they would have been greatly appreciated.

Garbage take #4

Bellamy doesn’t care about Echo and abandoned her for Clarke

This is somehow the narrative blorkes like to perpetuate about S6, but again this is completely factually incorrect. If what they are referring to is Bellamy going to get Josephine out of Clarke’s body while Echo stays back and looks after everyone else, it still makes no sense. There is no reading of the show in which this garbage claim has any basis. Bellamy would never willingly leave Echo behind (splitting up to take care of something they previously established they were going to do is not abandoning her 🙄x50).

Here’s what is actually happening in that scene: Echo is the one who tells Bellamy that she will stay and “keep the others safe”, and that he should “go save Clarke”. (keep in mind that saving Clarke actually isn’t the end goal of what they are trying to do here anyway. They are trying to get Josephine’s mind drive to use as leverage with Russell so that their people can have a place to live). Echo told him to go because the alarms were going off and they needed to get Josephine to Gabriel instead of waiting for Jackson to get to them and take out the mind drive. Context fucking matters. Blorkes just love to twist anything onscreen to fit their agenda and it just ends up making them look delusional.

As for “Bellamy not caring about Echo”, show me where????? S6 gave us one of their softest and sweetest scenes (as well as a fireside cuddle) that begs to differ. All of S5 begs to differ. Hell, all of S4 begs to differ too. In fact, the entire goddam show begs to differ. Bellamy “sprint into the arms of my girlfriend Echo” Blake begs to differ. This garbage take has no basis in canon. It’s once again just another bad faith claim by blorkes who are hardcore projecting. Because guess what? Not caring about the other person is exactly the way Clarke feels (or more accurately doesn’t) about Bellamy. Clarke left Bellamy to die in Polis in S5. Clarke physically slapped him in his face. This is canon. That’s THEIR ship, that’s not how Bellamy feels about Echo.

Blorkes like to say Becho don’t have any scenes together, but they’re really just so tilted that Echo gets her own plotlines every season, has relevance to the story, and actually isn’t solely defined by her relationship with Bellamy. She can’t be “just Bellamy’s girlfriend” while blorkes claim that “Becho doesn’t even have any scenes together“. Those are two contradictory statements guys... again, stick to a story please. So we have Schrödinger’s Echo, who is somehow both “just Bellamy’s girlfriend” and also “doesn’t have any scenes with him”. Give me a break. Neither of these statements are true and they’re honestly just dumb. It makes blorkes furious that Echo gets narrative focus each season, so they decide to twist that into “she and Bellamy don’t share any scenes”. But guess what? Queen gets both 👑. She can cuddle by the fire with her little spoon boyfriend and also spread the seeds of revolution while sniping at Russel with her bow and arrow during an execution to save her family and friends.

Also to the people who think S6 was so good for bellarke

Why didn’t Bellamy actually realize that Clarke wasn’t Clarke. Josephine reveals herself to him, he didn’t figure it out 🥴 (Echo was able to piece it together though, so Clecho Endgame I guess)

At the naming day lantern thing, Clarke tells Bellamy that she “lost sight” of him (supposedly) being important to her. She tells him that he is her family too (which he doesn’t verbalize back oop) and she won’t forget it. How nice that that’s something Clarke COULD forget and that she said that to his face 🥴

Bellamy is oblivious that Josephine is impersonating Clarke, so much so that when he hears her say “chill out” to Gaia, he repeats back “chill out? Happiness looks good on you”. He can’t even tell that’s not Clarke and he actually thinks she looks happy 🥴

Why was Bellamy completely unfazed, not jealous at all, and totally cool with Clarke having sex with Cillian. He even says “I take it you had fun with the doctor?” and Josephine!Clarke says back “let’s just say it’ll be a while until he recovers” and Bellamy couldn’t care less that “Clarke” is talking to him about her sexcapades with other people. There’s no angst or jealousy or longing looks or sadness lsdjsdkf. He’s genuinely happy for her. Then he makes an “ugh TMI” face and turns away. As if the thought of Clarke having sex in general is uncomfortable. Great blarke content, much romance 🥴

When Josephine has control of Clarke’s body she flirts with Murphy (and not Bellamy... a huge L in the metastory)

When Josephine is in Clarke’s mind and has access to all of her innermost thoughts and feelings - there’s no mention of any hidden or repressed romantic feelings for Bellamy (but we do get Josephine taunting Clarke about an actual love interest - “it’s why you cry when you think of Lexa”). Where was all this good blarke content guys?? 😩

The crumbs were extra stale in S6 if you ask me... almost as if the story between Bellamy and Clarke is, in fact, not a romance 🥴 🥴 🥴

ANYWAY

Becho as a couple are emotionally supportive of one another, unshakably stable, communicative, open, and loving. They support each other, they fight for each other, and they absolutely cherish each other. Whoops looks like I accidently wrote a thesis paper (and I’m sure I still managed to leave a bunch of stuff out). Thankfully, the show is the show. And it will always be about canon romantic Becho. And blorkes can die mad about it while we rewatch and enjoy the show to our heart’s content 😊

#The 100 #Becho #Echo Kom Azgeda #Bellamy Blake #anti bellarke #Becho positivity #becho musings #this started out as just looking at Becho as a couple #but then I remembered some truly garbage takes that were so smelly #I had to eviscerate them #so please enjoy my now incoherent Becho ramblings #with some anti bellarke sentiment splashed in #I hope this makes some kind of sense #I had to get all this out for my own sanity #help this is so long and maybe a little bit all over the place #TLDR; all blorke criticisms of becho are just them projecting the worst parts of their ship they refuse to acknowledge #I'm so envious of new fans who never have to witness blorkes firsthand #I sincerely believe blorkes don't have a single brain cell between them #thanks for coming to my TED talk #grab a bagel on your way out

24 notes · View notes

tsrookie · 4 years ago

Text

Alright, so today’s the three-year anniversary of Reputation a.k.a the greatest album of all time, my baby, the light of my life, the album that deserved a Grammy (trying desperately not to think about the scene from Miss Americana😭), the album that introduced us to the most beautiful couple ever, the album that shut Kimye up, and I better stop now, or else I’m not gonna shut up.

So in honour of this momentous occasion (and the fact that I reached 200+ followers! Thank you so much you guys!🥺 Love you all 3000💙), here’s a loooooong post on why Reputation is the Ethan and MC album.

1. ...Ready For It?

No one has to know

Throwback to MC saying the exact same words back in Miami.

In the middle of the night, in my dreams

You should see the things we do, baby, mmm

In the middle of the night, in my dreams

I know I'm gonna be with you

So I take my time

Remember back when MC asked for Ethan to get into bed right away during their first time? Ethan told them that he had dreamt about the moment for months, so he wasn’t going to rush it.

2. End Game

Big reputation, big reputation

Ooh you and me would be a big conversation

These two dating would be the talk of the hospital, and they know it.

Even when we'd argue, we don't do it for long

And you understand the good and bad, end up in the song

For all your beautiful traits, and the way you do it with ease

For all my flaws, paranoia, and insecurities

Think these lines are pretty self-explanatory😌

I hit you like bang

We tried to forget it, but we just couldn't

*gets war flashbacks of the ‘reset’ phase*😭 They tried to make it work, but we all know how Ch 8 of book 2 went😌

I swear I don't love the drama, it loves me

Perfect for our chaotic MC😌

3. Don’t Blame Me

Do I... really have to explain this one?

For you, I would cross the line

I would waste my time

I would lose my mind

They say she's gone too far this time

Do we need a recap of our rule-breaking MC?

And baby, for you, I would fall from grace

Just to touch your face

If you walk away

I'd beg you on my knees to stay

He was willing to risk his (mostly) rule-abiding reputation for being with MC. And there’s no way he wouldn’t beg for MC not to leave him if he ever screwed up🤷‍♀️

4. Delicate

This ain't for the best

My reputation's never been worse, so

You must like me for me

Ethan stood by MC’s side throughout the Ethics hearing, when her reputation was completely smeared, and people only saw her as a patient murderer. He didn’t know about the sabotages, but he would’ve definitely supported her if he had known.

We can't make

Any promises now, can we, babe?

Commitment-phobia🙃

Sometimes I wonder when you sleep

Are you ever dreaming of me?

Sometimes when I look into your eyes

I pretend you're mine, all the damn time

They spent so much of time apart, not able to be with each other, so the least they could do was dream of being with each other all the time.

5. So It Goes (an underrated af bop)

What can I say... it’s a sex song, okay? Don’t make me go into the details😂 Just listen to the lyrics, and all will be clear.

6. Gorgeous (Tumblr won’t let me put any more links)

MC’s eternal anthem to Ethan.

Whisky on ice, Sunset and Vine

You've ruined my life, by not being mine

We all know Ethan loves Whiskey, and the second line? C’mon!

You're so gorgeous

I can't say anything to your face

'Cause look at your face

And I'm so furious

At you for making me feel this way

But, what can I say?

You're gorgeous

Ethan Ramsey is famous for two reasons. One: his smart brain, I guess😒 Two: HIS LOOKS!!! HE’S GORGEOUS, AND DON’T DENY IT.

And you should think about the consequence

Of you touching my hand in the darkened room (dark room, dark room)

Ah, the olden days of hand holding in the diagnostics office🥺

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine

I feel like I might sink and drown and die

No explanation required.

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah

There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have

You are so gorgeous it makes me so mad

The wonderful will-they-won’t-they saga. The frustrating hot-and-cold behaviour. The ‘We can’t’, ‘It’s unethical’ and ‘It’s complicated’. MC deserves an award for her patience😓

7. King Of My Heart

I'm perfectly fine, I live on my own

I made up on my mind, I'm better off bein' alone

Ethan ‘I don’t believe in soulmates and nobody’s waiting at home’ Ramsey.

And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for

King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa

And all at once, you are all I want, I'll never let you go

King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa

This could be from both Ethan and MC’s perspectives. The love they share isn’t something that you get easily. It’s something that MC has waited for her whole life, and something Ethan never knew he needed, but now can’t live without🥺

Late in the night, the city's asleep

Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep

Change my priorities

The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury

This was definitely Ethan throughout book 2, after he finally gave in. He let go of his previous rules and regulations, especially during the time of the attack. He was clearly affected, and once MC was alright, his main priority was her, and her alone.

Is the end of all the endings?

My broken bones are mending

With all these nights we're spending

Ethan’s been burnt a lot in the past. But all those wounds are now healing thanks to MC.

Up on the roof with a school girl crush

Drinking beer out of plastic cups

They act like lovesick teenagers around each other, like, that’s literally their description if you choose to kiss Ethan for the first time in Chapter 14 of book 2!😅

Say you fancy me, not fancy stuff

Baby, all at once, this is enough

We all know about his initial fear of his mother reaching out to him for the sake of his money. To him, MC not talking advantage of him is a pretty big deal, even though it’s never mentioned. You just know, you know?🥺

8. Dancing With Our Hands Tied

My, my love had been frozen

Deep blue, but you painted me golden

Again, Ethan doesn’t have the best experience with love. But MC changed that.

I'm a mess, but I'm the mess that you wanted

This could go both ways, cause they’re both piping hot messes😬 (but love each other anyway🥺)

The rest of this song could have made so much more sense for them if we had gotten some sort of a secret relationship storyline. But oh well, I’m definitely not complaining about the gala😌 (and definitely not believing any of the supposed cancelled storylines)

9. Dress

Our secret moments

In a crowded room

They got no idea

About me and you

I mean... pretty obvious😌

Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me

And I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My one and only, my lifeline

This is practically Ethan’s train of thought, and you can’t convince me otherwise.

As for the rest of the steamier lyrics... I’ll um... let you guys listen to it yourselves😁

10. Call It What You Want

I wrote an entire fic inspired by this song, so excuse me for the shameless self-promo, but go give it a read?🥺👉👈(totally fine if you don’t! I’ve probably made so many posts about this song that y’all know the meaning anyway😅)

11. New Years Day

Don't read the last page

But I stay when you're lost and I'm scared and you're turning away

I want your midnights

But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

MC has always stayed by Ethan’s side, even when he’s pushed her away. These lines perfectly explain how she wants his worst times, and his best, the midnights they spend staying up together, and the moments where it’s just the two of them, when everyone else has left, like the aftermath of a New Years party (still mad at the fact that we didn’t get to see the gang celebrate New Year together😭)

I'll be there if you're the toast of the town babe

Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

The above explanation for these lines as well.

Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere

Becoming strangers to each other would be their worst nightmares. Knowing that the other was out there in the world somewhere, but not being in their lives would kill them.

You and me forevermore

These two are each other’s soulmate, they know it, even if they haven’t said it yet. Forever wouldn’t be enough for them to shower each other with they love they hold for each other. But it’s a good start.

——————————

If you guys made it this far, then I honestly love you more than words can ever express🥺💙 Thanks for putting up with my Swiftie-Directioner-Ethan stan ass, cause I dunno if I’d ever be able to handle someone like myself. And if you read all the above stuff, then I hope you wanna know why this album means so much to me.

Reputation is perceived as a dark album, when in reality it’s truly about finding love amongst all the noise. This album, and Taylor and Joe’s story, taught me what true love actually is, and Ethan and MC cemented that. This album and these two couples (quite literally) saved my life.

The most beautiful part about both these relationships is that even though they never showed it openly, for the sake of their relationships, both Ethan(in the story) and Joe stood by the side of the one’s they loved, despite half of the people who they knew hating on them, or betraying them. And I think that’s what’s truly important. Forming a true relationship like that, be it platonic or romantic, is long lasting, and I hope everyone finds those kind of people to fill their hearts with. Sending much love, and sorry for being a huge sap😅💙

Tagging a couple of my Swiftie homies: @swiftlydarcy @nikki-2406 @dxnicaramsey @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey @drariellevalentine @justanotherrookie

#open heart #open heart second year #dr ethan ramsey x mc #ethan jonah ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #mercy goes nuts #happy three years of Reputation🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤#ethan ramsey

39 notes · View notes

heatherclowndler · 5 years ago

Text

An Open Letter To the Six Fandom

I'm gonna be real with you guys: I’m getting really tired of the moral superiority of some people in the Six fandom. Six is a barely historically accurate concert-musical where the queens fight about their trauma for an hour, but it’s about white women, so I guess that means that its #girlpower is so much more respectable than Hamilton being representation to POC.

If you think I'm not talking about you, I am, @historemix / @ghostheather . I’m fucking sick of your bullshit. How come every time you get called out for being a hypocritical bully, you have a little meltdown, say you'll be better, and then go back to the same bullshit as before?

Before I actually get into the reasons that you’re a hypocrite and a bully, I want to thank everyone that sent me the screenshots and testimonials used in this post. It’s good to know that multiple people are as fed up and disturbed by this behavior as I am, and it wouldn’t have been possible without you.

Anyways, back to the matter at hand. First and foremost, your obsession with being on a fucking high horse is embarrassing. Your self-congratulatory posts about the Six fandom being so much better than the Hamilton fandom is fucking laughable coming from you, and here's why.

Before you get on about the Hamilton fandom being toxic, and the major reason why you can't fuck with the musical, remember that much of the fandom are people of color: most of whom are also minors. And they’re often the first to be driven out of it– not by harmless headcanons and fanfics or kids being "cringy”, but racist, toxic ass adults, colorism, whitewashing and constant harassment. Black fans, minors especially, would be the first to tell you this, since there’s been multiple incidents on Tumblr and Twitter where Black fans have been harassed, called slurs, etc. just for liking the musical, and that isn’t even getting into the amount of shit that’s been sent to the Black cast members for being a part of it. But clearly you haven't been fucking bothered to read the posts of how Black people in this fandom and in the cast have been treated, because maybe if you did, you’d be quiet and think before you start spouting shit, instead of constantly putting Hamilton’s name in your mouth to say shit that you think will give you woke points with the funnymen crowd.

Do you really think that the same bloggers that make fun of Hamilton would see any difference between those fans and you, the adult stanning a musical where Real Life Catherine of Aragon, a character played by a black woman, owned slaves, and was the person that introduced slavery into England is portrayed as a strong, feminist Queen? Or how Catherine Parr, a woman who was complicit in child molesation and later got upset with said child for being a victim of sexual abuse, is portrayed as the ultimate feminist and hero of the musical? Or is it okay for you to talk about how these child-molesting slaveowners were oh so admirable and honorable because you "respect the history,” whatever the fuck that means.

Yes.. I'm sure white women from the 1500s would be so pleased about the fact that their history is being told by women that they thought were inferior to them based on the color of their skin.

Also sidenote, you may want to reconsider your definition of what is a respectable Six fan when you're writing a literal AU for your favorite dead queens. Sis, just say that you want to write Six fanfiction. There’s no shame in it– especially because the people that write Six fanfiction are more respectable than you are.

But speaking of history, you need to take off your clown mask and realize how ridiculous the notion that “respectable Six fans” are ones that have a genuine respect for Tudor history, because despite the fact that you say this, Six completely disregards the actual Tudor history.

Take the example of Boleyn. Anne Boleyn – a woman who was judicially murdered on false charges including incest with her brother, witchcraft, and adultery in part because she couldn’t give birth to a son and wouldn’t be a submissive wife to her husband – is reduced to a three minute comic relief song that makes light of her murder and states that yes, she actually was guilty of adultery, but she only flirted with those guys to make Henry jealous! Writing an entire song about a woman whose name has been dragged through the mud for nearly 500 years after she was murdered on false charges and then saying that she actually did do the thing that caused her to be executed is just peak #Feminism, am I right? And so is making light of her unjust execution by calling the song “Don’t Lose Your Head” and continuously making joking references to her being beheaded, I guess. Never mind the fact that Boleyn was reportedly near-suicidal and “ready to be done with life” by the time she was executed. Never mind the fact that the six fingers rumor – something that’s also repeated in the musical and presented as a fact – was started by Catholics attempting to quell people’s sympathies over Boleyn’s execution by attempting to make it seem like she actually was a witch and therefore deserved to die. None of that matters because Six is about feminism and it does the Queens justice, right?

And let’s not even get started on Catherine of Aragon. You know, the person who you've reblogged posts about that claim she was “a remarkable woman”, and that you’re apparently so sad about the fact that she died that you’ve made memorial posts about her knowing good and well that she was a garbage person who owned human beings? The same Catherine of Aragon that was reduced in the musical to only being angry that her husband cheated on her and wanted to divorce her, as well as bickering with Boleyn? The same Catherine of Aragon that also was reduced to constantly talking in the musical about how she was forced to move to a country where she didn’t know anyone? On that note, isn’t it funny how that works? Especially since she and her garbage family owned slaves, forced them to convert to Christianity and change their names to Spanish ones, and then forced them to come to England with Catherine when she moved there to marry Arthur Tudor!

All of the queens are dumbed down for the sake of the musical and it isn't until the very, VERY end of the musical that they all realize that fighting over who got the worse abuse from their husband is fucking stupid. And, even then, it’s still incredibly fucking problematic and gross because the Queen that makes them realize that the fight is stupid, and ultimately the Queen that’s praised for being the most feminist in the musical and by its creators, is the Queen that literally held her stepdaughter down while her husband molested her. If you’re really so damn upset about how much Hamilton and its creator glorify the Founders that it ruined your ability to enjoy the musical when that musical at least still acknowledges the fact that Presidents Washington, Jefferson and Madison owned slaves (and its creator acknowledging that none of the Founders were good people), why aren’t you upset about how Six portrays Catherine Parr and Catherine of Aragon as feminists when they were a child molester and a slave owner, respectively, and it's never acknowledged in the musical? Why isn’t your enjoyment of Six ruined by the fact that the Six creators praise Child Molester Parr and Slaveowner of Aragon for being strong feminists, or the Six Instagram calling Ferdinand and Isabella (you know, the people that committed genocide against Black people in Spain, had others tortured and executed for their race&religious beliefs, and literally caused Columbus’s colonization of the Americas [and by extension, the Transatlantic Slave Trade] to begin) a “power couple”?

The entire premise of Six is flawed, arguably even more so than Hamilton’s, because at least Hamilton actually did what it sets out to do throughout the entire musical, and not just the last five minutes. But even so, the basic plot idea remains– fictionalized (heavy emphasis on the fictionalized, Heather!) versions of real people fighting to tell their story. So, if the creators of Six cast aside historical accuracy for the sake of creating a diverse and modern take on the Queens’s lives and you eat it up as much as you do, why should we give a shit when Hamilton does the same thing? Since you love Six so much, you clearly fucking don't, because otherwise you’d be shitting on Six just as much as you like to shit on Hamilton. It really just goes to show how much of a hypocrite and a pick-me ass bitch you are, because the fact that you love Six makes it really obvious that you only care about hating Hamilton so much because it’s a stance that you think will give you more street cred with the Tumblr and Twitter crowds.

^^ The absolute hypocrisy of you reblogging this when you regularly make posts and reblog posts of you and other people doing the same thing with Hamilton and its fandom. Embarrassing.

I'm saying this as someone who enjoys Six’s songs and also has common sense and brain cells– they're fictionalized versions of real people, and those real people were shitty. And that’s okay. But you need to stop embarrassing yourself and acting like you’re morally superior to people that enjoy Hamilton when your core arguments for enjoying Six literally could also be said for Hamilton, and your core arguments for hating Hamilton could be said (and would definitely apply better) to Six. I see you all the time making the argument about how important it is for Six fans to see an all-woman cast, do you think Hamilton fans of color can't make the argument that they feel it's important to see a cast with over 95% POC? How for those teens, it brought them into giving musicals a try in the first place (this is just one of many examples)? How Hamilton's overwhelming success brought jobs to so many actors of color, including helping some of them (most prominently, Daveed Diggs) make a stable enough income to give them a place to live and rest their head? When it paved the way for musicals like Six to gain popularity, too? Cognitive dissonance isn't a good fucking look on you, luv.

And don’t even try the "creator is problematic argument", bitch. You're all over Mean Girls, where the creator (Tina Fey) is shitty for a multitude of reasons, blackface and saying the n word included. Not to mention the Heathers musical, where the creators turn JD into a sympathetic villain and apologise for him when the director and writer of the original movie made it clear that JD wasn’t a character that people are supposed to sympathize with. It's a fucking joke that you go "I can't get behind a musical with a bad creator!" when you base your whole blog around a musical whose creator that's transphobic and antiblack, as well as a musical whose creators apologise for an attempted school shooter and use their musical to make him sympathetic. We know LMM is a piece of trash, but that doesn't give you the right to steamroll over fans (again, most of whom are minors of color) who just want to mind their business and enjoy a fucking show, like a pick-me ass theater kid you are.

And while we're talking about your hypocrisy, let's talk about your incessant harassment of a teenage Six fan for fucking months. You’ve instigated wave after wave of bullying towards a fan who was only 15 at the time when it started, for various reasons. I don’t give a fuck if you were just trying to “spread awareness” about their actions, or get them to change their ways, or whatever. You’re a grown ass fucking adult. If you see a minor in fandom – especially one that’s 3+ years younger than you – doing cringy/problematic stuff, let other minors be the ones to say something about it. Your harassment and creepy behavior around minors isn’t justified by the fact that you think that you’re doing something good.

This is just one of the many examples of you vaguing/posting about the teenage Six fan under the guise of trying to “spread awareness” about their reaction. This one is just fucking rude, especially because they’re a minor with ADHD/ADD that projects traits that they have onto fictional characters and vice versa. I’d expect you to know a lot about projecting onto characters and picking up traits from them, since you channel Heather Chandler and Regina George’s bitchiness and their consistent harassment of teenagers that they consider to be lesser than them into your internet persona and identity, am I right?

The potential end result doesn’t justify the means; but clearly you think it does since you never say shit about this teenager getting harassed until you get called out for your complicity in it, say that you never sent them any asks, promise you’ll do better about the way you interact with minors in fandom, repeat.

Not to mention the complete hypocrisy of this statement in the tags of one of the below posts– especially considering that you were the one that made it open season on this girl in the first place with your consistent vaguing about her and making joke posts about her with your friends when she was only fifteen. And on top of that, denying that you ever harassed Lizzie, claiming that your only crime was vague posting her – when you and your shitty friends posted memes about stuff that she had been doing and making it really clear in your vagues that it was about Lizzie. Just because you didn’t name her directly doesn’t mean that it wasn’t harassment, asshole.

Oh, and here you are, months earlier, admitting that you did cause her to get harassed and acknowledging that you named her? Interesting.

The fact that you say that you have to take responsibility for it, but you never fucking do? [Narrator Voice] Heather would not take responsibility for that.

And let’s not forget how after almost driving the girl to the point of suicide and after getting called out multiple times for it, you promised to be a better person, before running to Twitter and continuing to vague about her. And in addition to that, you making memes and joke posts about Jay, the black teenager who was also bullied almost to the point of suicide for minding his own fucking business and making some fucking fanart and quirky headcanons, is fucking nasty. To further stick your nose up at him and go “not my fandom” at him for drawing Trans!Jefferson art when your Tumblr icon is Anne Boleyn with a lesbian flag behind it and your Twitter icon is the same thing with Katherine Howard... the joke writes itself. Do I have to repeat my point?

Not to mention the fact that you fucking lied in your apology on your viral post about him, because you said that you only became aware of the fact that he was a Black teenager that was harassed after the post whent viral.. when someone told you months before (in the replies to the above post) that he was a Black teenager that was harassed relentlessly for his fanart and asked you to leave Hamilton fans of color alone. But clearly you still stand by your point about Hamilton fans. Who’s surprised?

And then after receiving a 22-anon thread where anon presumably called you out on your hypocrisy of this, you still went to Twitter and started bitching about the fact that you were called out despite saying that you were deeply ashamed and that you would do better. Yet another example of Heather the Hypocrite, am I right or am I right?

You really switch up from “I feel incredibly ashamed and I want to reassess where to go forward from here” on Tumblr to “I hate Tumblr purity culture” when you’re on the safety of your Twitter account like clockwork. And it’s awfully bold of you to mention Tumblr purity culture like you didn’t cause waves of harassment to be sent to a 15/16 year old girl to the point where she felt paranoid that someone was going to come to her house and attack her, and later make memes/joke posts about a Black minor who was harassed to the point where he tried to commit suicide and later had to get rid of his online presence altogether for his own safety.

Also, you posted the IP address of the anon who called you out, and tagged them as “asshole” on the website that you use to track IP addresses. But you genuinely felt ashamed, right? You wanted to change and reassess yourself, right? (The anon’s IP address has been blocked out by me to protect their privacy, because the person who sent in this screenshot didn’t black it out, either.)

And even then, aside from all that, your actions have caused multiple minors in the Six fandom to feel uncomfortable. Below are testimonials about your behavior, and how it’s made minors in the Six fandom feel. One of these is also a reply on a post that called out your behavior. (URLs and icons on both Tumblr and Discord are blacked out to protect their privacy.)

Take in what these testimonials are saying. The fact that your behavior with harassing minors has grown so much that people are afraid to post in the Six tags and express their love for the musical because they don’t want to get harassed by you and your group of friends is concerning.

You, a grown adult, have made minors scared to be themselves and do things their way. You’ve created a culture of fear in a fandom where over 80% of its active fans are minors. You should have been leading by example, showing Six fans how the message of uplifting women should be implemented, but instead? You caused a floodgate of harassment to be sent to a then-15 year old girl that got so bad that she was suicidal and paranoid that people would come to her house, and it ended with even more minors afraid to post in the fandom’s tag because they’re afraid that you and your shitty friends will come for them, too. Shit, I was a follower for a while! I had only unfollowed due to your moral high horse, but it wasn't long before I was made aware about your history of bullshit.

You shouldn’t just be ashamed of yourself– you should be mortified with yourself. And your little friend group should be, too: not only because of their part in all of this, participating in harassing and making fun of that poor girl with you, but because of the fact that they keep enabling you to do this harmful shit by not properly shutting you down or calling you out. But it's not like you care anyways, because you’ve made fun of people voicing their concerns about your behavior and calling you out for making the fandom an unsafe space.

"But I said I'm sorry-" Yeah, we know. We saw a series of half-assed “I'm sorry” posts, paired with you not taking real responsibility for any of the harm you’ve caused. And clearly you didn't actually mean anything you said, because you kept doing it again. And again, and again, and again.

By the way, Heather, the implication that you would be indicted for murder if Lizzie committed suicide despite never speaking to her isn’t just an implication: it’s a literal fact that people can be prosecuted for manslaughter/murder without ever laying a finger on the suicide victim. This includes cyberbullying.

It means nothing to admit you're a hypocrite and do nothing to improve, especially because you’ve said this same exact “apology” multiple times, almost word from word. You're a grown fucking adult that vicariously lives out her dream of being a highschool bully through Tumblr by harassing teenage girls on the internet, and it gives me secondhand embarrassment. Grow the fuck up already, Heather. You’re 20 years old.

You're always harping about how the Six fandom is becoming toxic and embarrassing without considering the fact that you’re one of the toxic ass adults that make children embarrassed and ashamed to be a part of their fandoms. Whenever they do something even slightly cringy, and not even genuinely problematic like some of the other shit in the Six fandom, you’re quick to be like “This isn’t respectable,” “The Six fandom is going to be the next Hamilton fandom,” or whatever the fuck else you say. Teenage girls calling Boleyn a gremlin and making headcanons about the queens siblings/children is not the end of the world, and the fact that you act like it is when you’ve actively created a culture of fear in a fandom that’s mostly made up of teenage girls is embarrassing and disgusting.

I don’t care about whatever apology or sob story you’re going to say after you see this post, because in the end, it’ll just be an empty promise as long as you stay on here. At best, you’ll say that you’re going to do better and leave Tumblr for what, a month? Only to bitch on your Twitter account for the entire month, then come back to Tumblr and do the same exact thing that I’m calling you out for.

You need to stay away from minors in fandom. As a matter of fact — stay out of fandoms that are mostly made up of minors as a whole. You’ve proven time and time again that you don’t care about the safety or feelings of minors, nor do you care about actually “improving” or reassessing yourself every time you get called out. The fact that you’ve been called out for the same things via being indirected on a Tumblr post (linked here), being sent multiple anons by different people (shown above), and being sent a 22-anon thread by one single person calling you out (stated by you above), and you still haven’t changed? Is all of the proof that I need that you won’t change.

That’s all I have to say to you.

People in the Six fandom, I’m heavily urging you not to continue giving this person a platform. I can’t force you to do anything, but you all deserve the right to know what’s been going on. Aside from her hypocrisy about Six, it’s historical figures, and its fandom as a whole, she’s been involved in harassing a minor to the point where she felt paranoid and wanted to leave the fandom on separate occasions, made jokes about another minor in a different fandom that was harassed to the point of attempting suicide on multiple occasions (then lying and claiming that she was never told he was a Black minor who was harassed after she was called out due to a post she made about him going viral when someone told her months before that he was all of those things in the notes of another post she made about him), and other minors have posted/stated that they feel her behavior went too fair, and that because of it they feel unsafe posting stuff in the fandom.

She’s been called out on her behavior on multiple different occasions, and each time she said that she would reassess her behavior and discuss how her actions were toxic. People have given her multiple chances, and each time, she’s gone back to the same toxic behavior and done the very things that she claimed she would stop doing. It’s getting ridiculous at this point, and her actions have gotten to the point where it seems like the only course of action is to call her out publicly.

Like Heather herself said, and I will now brilliantly quote because karma is a bitch: “If you keep making the same “mistake” MULTIPLE TIMES, people aren’t gonna be happy about it.” She isn’t exempt from criticism, especially when this stuff has happened multiple times and she hasn’t done anything to change her behavior. Listen to what she said, and hold her accountable.

Again, I can’t force you to do anything, but I hope that everyone in the Six fandom keeps what was said in this post in mind the next time they consider interacting with her or her content. Take care.

#six the musical #six musical #if youre in the six fandom pls reblog this to spread awareness. this has gone on for long enough #ghostheather

177 notes · View notes

ruthoakenshield · 4 years ago

Text

Very Good Friends (Chapter 8)

Catch up here: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7]

Reader x Henry Cavill, Reader x co-star named Dan

Warning: This tale is for 18+ readers ONLY!!! Mentions of flashbacks: (rape, anal sex, non-con sex, abuse), severe bruising and injury, mentions of suicidal thoughts, depression, humiliation, and some fluff to make us feel better. Smut comes later on in the story… Several chapters down the road… I promise!!!

If ANY of the warnings upset you or make you uncomfortable, DO NOT read below the cut! go find something else to read in this case.

If you are okay with reading those things then enjoy the tale below the cut.

Feedback and reblogs are appreciated. I do not own Henry nor do I have any personal knowledge of him besides what is common knowledge amongst the Cavillary. Any mistakes and typos are mine, story is not beta-tested. GIF I got from the tumbler search thingy.

Sunday morning arrives and it is cloudy and raining. Henry lays on the bed, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain hitting the trailer as you sleep, head still on his Pec. Arms wrapped around his broad chest and fingers holding his shirt. your body still wrapped in the comforter burrito. Neither of you shifted positions as you slept, and he still has his cheek resting against your head. The scent of peppermint still comforting his thoughts. He smiles realizing you seemed to sleep through the night with no nightmares this time. He hopes you finally got some much needed rest.

He thinks about the things the counselor said yesterday and he wonders if the self-defense class would help you like it did the other women. It certainly couldn’t hurt. He thought it might help you if he took the class as well. Then you both could spar together. He decided he’d talk to you about it when you woke up.

He wondered if you would like to try drawing or painting or creative writing to help you sort things out in your pretty little head of yours. He decided to ask you about it as well.

It was the beginning of August and it was chilly now in the mornings and evenings. He hadn’t turned on the furnace in the trailer yet. Though you were in your comforter burrito, he was for the most part uncovered and a little chilly. He made a mental note to have maintenance check the furnace and turn it on for him.

Henry hears his phone chirp, and he glances over to the nightstand where it sat. He reaches over and frowns when he sees it’s his publicist. He grabs his phone and unlocks it to see the message from his publicist: “Henry, FYI: Someone leaked what happened to the paparazzi, but are playing Dan as the victim. They’re having a heyday. Try to keep y/n off of social media and away from tv. Her publicist and I are teaming up with the studio’s trying to do damage control. Be careful who you talk with and share info with till we find out who the leaker is.” It read.

He quickly replies to her: “The only people we’ve talked to about any of this is the hospital staff, the police, the executive of the studio and the counselor besides my agent, you, y/n’s agent and her publicist, and my PA. I don’t know if y/n talked with her PA at all. What all is being said about y/n?” Henry asks.

She replies: “They’re saying she is falsely accusing him and that she forced him, and wanted it rough and that she was mad at him for rejecting her repeated attempts to get him to date her. She’s being labeled as a whore, who is trying to ruin his career.

Sounds to us like it’s his agent trying to set her up to take the blame so Dan can get off scott free since she is new to the business. They seem to think she can be used as the scapegoat.

There’s several of your castmates who have already posted to social media defending y/n and saying that Dan was the one harassing her and not taking no for an answer and that HE was the one wanting to date her and she refused him repeatedly. They also stated that she didn’t show up for his going away party and was the only one to do so. (Though they don’t know her reason for not showing up – no one has been told of her injuries yet except the studio heads, the director and the producers.)

The studio is trying to figure out if they can salvage the film now or if they are going to have to scrap it now that Dan’s fucked it up with this PR stunt. There’s talk of going after him for damages if the film flops or if they have to scrap it or delay it and have his role recast and refilm all his scenes.” His publicist texts him.

Henry groans, making you stir. He caresses your head, and you fall back asleep. Henry rubs his face, his brows knitted, and his forehead creased with worry.

“Ugh!!! Ok. What do you want me to do? She’s staying in my trailer and is REALLY struggling to come to terms with all this. She’s been having nightmares and last night was the first night she didn’t have them and slept soundly (on my chest).” Henry messages back.

“I’ll ask the director. I think we need to let the cast see y/n and talk to her; or show them the photos of the injures she sustained and explain to them their extent, so they know just how badly she’s been hurt. I have the photos from the PD in case we needed to have evidence shared of her injuries. I’ve edited them so her face isn’t showing, and her privates are covered. The arm, thigh and torso bruising and the obvious hand bruises on her neck should be sufficient to convince them.

Everyone was wondering why her trailer was being searched by the PD and why it was removed, then Dan pulls this PR stunt and eveyone’s asking me and her PR what’s going on. All we told them was that Dan attacked y/n and raped her the night before the party. But they don’t know how badly she was hurt.

The doctor I spoke with who treated her said she had serious lesions both in her ass and her vagina and throat from what Dan did to her, and that they had bled heavily from the sex. He suspected that Dan had some kind of ribbed sleeve or harness with stiff ribs or nubs on it that was scraping her as he had his way with her that caused the lesions. He said they are meant to be used with lube and there was no lube in her at all in neither of her holes nor her throat. He said it would’ve been incredibly painful and exposed her to a high risk for infection and STD’s if he had any.

The police found an empty box of condoms in her bedroom garbage. It contained 36 originally, when they searched the bedroom garbage and the bathroom one, they came up with all 36 of them and most of them had her blood and his semen in/on them. They also found dildos in varying sizes, some insanely bizarre, in Dan’s possession with her DNA on them buy only his hand / finger prints when they arrested him at his trailer. Judging by the security cameras’ he was in her trailer almost 12 hours.” She informs Henry.

He lays there in shock, he rubs his face and looks down at you. His face red with anger realizing you most likely endured at least 7 hours of this kind of torture. He cups your head with his hand and kisses your forehead. Wishing he had only known Dan’s intent and could’ve stopped it.

“Oh God! She said they watched one movie and she had put in the second one. Then she doesn’t remember what happened after that other than waking up twice to Dan fucking her. So, he was there at least two hours before he began to assault her sexually! God only knows how long it lasted and if he slept at all or raped her the entire time!” Henry replies. “I can’t imagine what she went through! No wonder she is emotionally shutting down and trying to just retreat inward! No wonder why she’s hurting physically SO bad!” he adds.

Henry caresses your head and back, he sighs. Not sure what to do now or how to help you. He just wants to cry knowing now, what you most likely endured. It was worse than anyone could’ve imagined. He hopes the cops throw the book at his idiot co-star. It just makes him sick what Dan did.

He snaps a photo of you asleep on his chest with his hand on your back, keeping his face out of the photo. Posting it to his Instagram page, he writes. “I am thinking of and praying for this wonderful, talented, incredibly kind, patient and amazing woman. You’ve endured more horrors than I could possibly imagine! I’m glad to know you and my support, thoughts and prayers are with you, Kitten, during this rough patch. You’ll get through it and shine all the brighter in the end. Keep your chin up our brave sweetheart, rest when you can, and don’t give up! We got your back!”

He sighs again and locks his screen. Setting it face down, he looks down at you and shakes his head in both amazement of what all you’ve endured, and sadness because he was not there to protect you and stop it. His heart aches for you. He closes his eyes and just holds you trying to be as supportive as he can.

About an hour later, he gets a group text from the director, producers and executive of the studio. “Please come to a meeting at the studio office today at 2pm to discuss current events and future plans for the film. Henry, bring y/n with you.”

Henry visibly cringes at the message. It either means they’re scrapping it, or they’re going forward and have some serious plans hoping to make this film work.

Henry carefully turns the two of you onto your sides, with you against the pillows you had propped there behind you when you climbed in next to him. He gently peels your arms off his shirt and he carefully slips himself out from beside you, propping you with more pillows to keep you hopefully asleep and comfortable for a while yet. He suspects his phone is going to blow up now and doesn’t want to disturb you.

Henry turns the ringer off, so it just vibrates and keeps it in his pants pocket as he gets up and heads for the bathroom. He does his thing and gets freshened up and goes into his room and changes clothes. About a half hour later, he starts getting messages from the other costars asking what’s going on. He sighs and does a conference call with them all while he is in the guest bathroom on the opposite end of the trailer, trimming his beard stubble, so you weren’t bothered.

He tells them he can’t say much about what’s going on until the meeting. He explains you’re staying with him in his trailer because it is where you currently feel safe and protected, and that you are really struggling with what happened to you. He asks them to please be supportive of you and to respect your need to just cope.

They ask if what Dan is claiming is true and Henry tells them no, it is quite the opposite. “Just be careful who you talk to about this. There’s a leaker somewhere and we haven’t been able to find out who it is. When we get to the meeting you all will be filled in with exactly what happened and how bad it really is. Until then, don’t comment to anyone about any of this.”

They ask if he has any idea if the film will continue or be scrapped. “I have no idea. My agent said they were trying to figure out what to do, there was talk of scrapping it if there’s no way to save it, depending on the public outcry; they talked about replacing Dan with a different actor and re-filming all the scenes he was in, and there was talk of going after Dan for damages depending on what is decided. I have no idea what option they chose or if they came up with other options. “It’s a PR nightmare thanks to Dan deciding to be an asshole.” Henry tells them.

“How is y/n doing, Henry? I mean really.” One co-star asks. Henry sighs, “She’s struggling big time. I am too. She is hurting immensely, both physically and emotionally. She’s been having nightmares and struggling to get restful sleep because of what Dan did to her. It just makes me sick to know what he did and be powerless to really help besides holding her and letting her cry and trying to be supportive and encouraging. You’ll understand when you see her. I hope they throw the book at Dan for what he did. He’s a monster as far as I’m concerned. No woman should have to go through what he did to her!” Henry growls, trying to keep quiet and not wake you up.

They are all quiet. “Henry, would you mind if we left her some encouragement outside your trailer? We don’t want to disturb her or anything, just want to let her know we’re thinking about her and support her in this and that we’re here for her. Whatever she needs.” They ask.

“That’s fine, guys. I’m sure she’ll appreciate any support we can give her. This isn’t going to be a fast recovery by any means.” He tells them.

“She’s such a great gal, Hen, I’m so sorry to hear Dan hurt her so badly. She was such a little ray of sunshine on set, always smiling and bubbly.” One costar comments. There’s murmuring of agreement amongst the co-stars. “Yeah, we all saw how Dan would treat her on set. I regret not reporting him now.” another costar says. Others murmur similar regret. “Well if you hear noise outside the trailer, don’t be alarmed, it’s just us. Okay, Hen?” they tell him. “Okay guys. We’ll see you around 2pm.” He tells them and hangs up.

More chapters to come...

Please reblog and share if you like this story so far! Please and thank you!!!

Let me know if you want to be added to or removed from this taglist:

Tagging the cavillary & crew: @dancingwendigo @littlefreya @iloveyouyen @achaoticaugust @thatdem0n @cherry-acid @connieisland @kandomeresbitch @captainbigdy @mary-ann84 @chamomilebottom @thelastsock @infinite-shite @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @viking-raider @raspberrydreamclouds @when-in-doubt-eat-pizza @kissthatlifeaway @madbaddic7ed @beckster07890 @sage-willow-raven @allememaggies @aletheladyinred @princess-of-riviaa @amandalove @heyyassbutt @nerdypinupcrystal @wondersofdreaming @taylorinthetardis @kmuir1 @henrythickcavill @cavillsbestgal @hinata7346 @indigosaurus @purplelove75 @eldarwen333 @rangergirl71 @luclittlepond @rowandor @contentobsessor @henrycavilledits@capsheadquaters @criminaly-supernatural @henricavyll @henrycavell

43 notes · View notes

bluesey-182 · 4 years ago

Text

We Have To Stop Meeting Like This - Chapter 13

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / ao3

it’s been a very long time, but at last,,, here’s an update. also, the end of this chapter gets NSFW so i will not be tagging anyone in this post, i will however continue to tag everyone that has asked to be tagged in the next chapter.

--------

Jude was tuning out every noise around her in statistics class. The professor, a young man barely out of university himself, looking thoroughly hungover that morning, had divided them up into small groups for some group project, though what that project was Jude had no idea. She kept trying to convince herself to pay attention but her mind was elsewhere. Absentmindedly, she tapped her pencil against the palm of her hand while her feet tapped a different beat under the desk. When she woke up that morning she had considered staying home, given what day it was and the emotions it tended to bring up, but her tenuous grade in this class had ultimately made the decision for her.

“June?” One of her classmates asked, waving his hand in front of her face to get her attention. “Are you even listening?”

She considered biting his hand but settled for swatting it out of her face. “My name is Jude.”

The idiot kept talking but movement at the door in the front of the classroom caught her eye. The door was propped open, the professor unaware given he was facedown on his desk, and standing there, looking like a cruel prince from a wicked storybook, was Cardan. His black jeans ended into his untied high top converse, his matte-black shirt with silky designs on it was unbuttoned at the top and rolled up at the sleeves, and his hair was a glorious mess. He had put on gold eyeliner that morning and Jude felt her stomach tighten pleasantly. As she stared, he finally found her sitting in the back of the room and gave her a wicked smile before indicating with a wave that she should come out into the hallway with him. She made a face that hopefully conveyed that he was an imbecile for expecting her to leave class when there was still half an hour left, and in return he made a face that dared her to do it anyway.

“Well then Jude you still didn’t answer my question,” her classmate continued, ignoring the conversation happening between her and Cardan spoken solely with their faces.

She really wanted to punch this guy. Another look at Cardan showed an amused smile as he eyed the classmate sitting next to her, a knowing look in his eyes that Jude was probably going to murder him in the next minute.

Maybe the universe had sent Cardan to save this kid's miserable life from her ending it.

“Actually,” Jude said as she scooped her notebook and pen into her backpack, “I have to go, um,” Cardan was laughing silently to himself and it was very distracting, “go water my…. goldfish,” she finished absentmindedly before bolting towards the door. Her professor, popping a handful of ibuprofen into his mouth, didn’t seem to notice.

Once out in the hall, Cardan let the door slide closed behind them before taking her face in his hands and giving her a gentle kiss that made her heart soar.

“Hey, you,” he said after taking the smallest step away.

“I was in class, what do you want?”

“From the looks of it, you were about to commit a felony on some poor, unexpecting dimwit. I am merely saving you from your least favorite class and, possibly, prison.”

“I can’t afford to fail this class, Cardan,” Jude said with no real heat.

“I’ll help you with the homework.” Jude glared at him, knowing how much of a pain in the ass he was when he “helped” her with her homework. “So why are you dragging me out of class?”

Cardan’s face lit up like he had almost forgotten and then he started patting down all his pockets while mumbling to himself. Finally he pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and presented it to her like a magician would present a flower. “Because, my dear, I have a very important question for you.”

Feeling confused, Jude took the paper from his open palm and unfolded it. It was almost entirely blank except for the question “do you like me?” with two boxes to check yes or no. Jude rolled her eyes. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.” With a flourish, Cardan produced a pen from his same back pocket and blinked at her innocently. “I’m not answering.” At her words Cardan gave her a sad face that was entirely fake. With a huff, Jude snatched the pen from his hand and checked the box next to yes.

“You make me swoon, Jude,” Cardan teased.

“You really interrupted my class for this?”

“What? Oh, no, I interrupted your class because a little birdy told me,” he sidled up and smoothly pulled her into him, “that today is your birthday.”

Jude’s mood soured ever so slightly. “What little birdy?”

“Mm,” Cardan hummed as he kissed her neck. Goosebumps rose all over her body.

“Nice try,” she said, placing a hand on his chest and gently pushing him and his lips a safe distance away from her. “What little birdy, Cardan.”

He relented, “Your sister.”

“You’ve been talking to Taryn?” Instead of answering her question, Cardan gave Jude a withering look. “Oh. Right. You’re friends with Vivi. But so what if it’s my birthday? I don’t really celebrate.”

“So I was told,” Cardan said lightly as he took her hand in his and started guiding her towards the back exit of the building. “Which is exactly why I’m snatching you out of class to spend the day with me.”

“That sounds more like a birthday treat for you, not me.”

“You wound me Jude, you really do. But I promise I’ll make it worthwhile for you as well.”

It was a surprisingly warm day for mid-November. They were driving with the windows down, Jude’s hand hanging out the window and lazily surfing the breeze, Cardan singing out of time with the music playing on the radio. Despite the depression Jude’s birthday tended to bring on, a wave of peace washed over her as she turned her head to look at Cardan. Instead of wearing his sunglasses to block the bright sun, he was currently using them as a headband to keep his floppy hair out of his face while he drove, though it wasn’t proving to be very effective. The wind swept his hair about and every so often a piece of it would slap him in the face.

“So where are we going?” Jude asked for the fifth time since they had gotten into the car. They had driven out of town and were now on a country road full of trees displaying the last of their leaves before winter washed the world of color. Instead of answering Jude’s question, Cardan gave her a lopsided grin in response and took her hand in his free one.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?” Cardan finally said after Jude released a long, drawn out breath.

“I hate surprises,” she mumbled.

“It’ll be fun,” Cardan insisted.

“I hate you.”

“Liar.”

“Miscreant.”

“Bully.”

“Baby.”

“Yes, darling?” Cardan replied.

“No, I was calling you a baby,” explained Jude. The smirk Cardan tried to suppress showed that Jude had walked right into that one.

“I do so love it when you call me pet names,” Cardan continued. “Makes me feel all warm and gooey inside. Like a pie left out in the sun.”

“You shouldn’t leave pies out in the sun, birds will eat them.”

“Well I am such a goddamn snack…” Cardan trailed off as Jude began to laugh.

“Says you.”

“Darling, have you seen this ass?”

“Alright,” Jude laughed, “if you’re a snack what does that make me?”

“A four-course meal,” Cardan said as if that were obvious. “Now, if you will direct your attention to your right you will see we have arrived at our destination. Please do not feed the animals and remember the rules of being out in nature: leave no trace and take no prisoners. Sunscreen will not be provided and if a bear attacks you’re on your own.”

Jude looked out the window as Cardan pulled into a mostly empty dirt parking lot in front of a state park. Trees obscured the view beyond the opening of the main path, some of the autumnal colored leaves still clinging to their branches. Stepping out of the car, Jude was greeted by a kind of calming quiet one never got in civilization. The air smelled cleaner than Jude thought should be possible and the shining sun chased away any chills that the season tried to bring on. Birds that hadn’t yet made their migration sang from the trees, different melodies coalescing into a symphony of sounds.

It was beautiful.

The sound of a trunk door closing turned Jude’s attention to where Cardan had just pulled a basket from the trunk of his car. He watched her with a small smile and bright eyes as she took in their surroundings.

“If you brought me out here to murder me,” Jude joked, “I must say I approve of the scenery.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, clearly I brought you out here to paint you nude in nature like a faerie queen.”

“Are you saying you’ll be painting in the nude, or I’ll be nude in the painting?”

With a chuckle, Cardan tapped Jude on the tip of her nose and smiled brightly. “I like the way you think. Perhaps both. Or perhaps we’ll skip the painting entirely and just get naked. Shall we?” Cardan indicated the path with a flourish and they began walking hand in hand through the tree lined path.

“I think we should skip,” Cardan observed. “We don’t skip nearly enough as adults.”

“Skipping implies levity, and how can one be joyous when they’re drowning in college debt?”

“You really know how to ruin my fun, Jude. You can be quite cruel. And yet… I find it turns me on.”

Jude rolled her eyes. Something Cardan had said earlier had just begun to register in her mind. “Hey, what the fuck does leave no trace and take no prisoners mean?”

“What?”

“When we first got here,” Jude explained, “You said ‘leave no trace and take no prisoners.’”

“Oh, right. Leave no trace means that you should leave things how you find it, stay on the trail, yada yada yada.”

“I’m not familiar with ‘yada yada yada.’”

“Hush, my darling,” tutted Cardan before continuing with his explanation. “And ‘take no prisoners’ means that you don’t take anything out of nature. Like a pretty rock or a dead squirrel or a mushroom that has the potential to be psychedelic.”

“Yes, those are precisely the trinkets I want as souvenirs,” Jude teased. Cardan only shrugged his shoulders and melted her heart with his smile.

“This way,” he said, gently leading her down a narrower path. After almost thirty minutes of walking they emerged into a clearing of grass overlooking a small waterfall flowing down a face of rocks and a pool of water surrounded by blue flowers. Mesmerized, Jude crept up to the bank of forget-me-nots and stared at her reflection mirrored in the pool of water. All sound seemed to be muffled in the little clearing, the perfect circle of grass separating the forest from the little pond. It felt magical and Jude stole a glance at Cardan.

“How did you find this place?” She asked.

Instead of answering, Cardan set down the basket in his arms and pulled a checkered blanket from its depths. He placed the folded blanket over one arm like a tea towel and held his finger to his face in imitation of a mustache. “Will the lady be dining alone today?” He asked in a horrible french accent.

“Yes. Yes, she will.”

“I’m afraid I must insist on joining you.”

“Mmm. No thanks.”

Cardan laughed and it was warmer than sunlight. “Will you let me join you if I promise never to talk in that accent again?”

Jude pretended to consider this for a moment. “I suppose,” she dragged out, running her eyes along the length of his body. “You would make for rather handsome company.”

With a grin, Cardan whipped open the blanket and laid it out on the grass with a bit of theatrics, indicating with a slight bow and an extended hand that Jude should sit. After joining her on the blanket, Cardan opened the basket once again and peered inside.

“I hope you like the concept of food more than actually eating it because I forgot to actually pack any,” he said seriously.

“Cardan!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking!” He held his hands up in surrender and laughed as Jude attempted to toss a nearby leaf in his face. “Let’s see what we’ve actually got in here, shall we?” And so he proceeded to produce fresh bread, soft cheeses, fancy meats, a variety of fruits, and chocolate pastries from the basket. After laying out their feast, he then pulled plastic plates, two cups, and a bottle of grape juice from the bottom of the picnic basket.

“Why grape juice?” Jude asked with a laugh.

“Because, darling, I have to drive and I know you’re not big on alcohol. But I still wanted to stick to the spirit of things, hence the grape juice instead of wine.”

“You really thought of everything.”

“Yes, well,” Cardan released a labored breath, faking humility, “I am rather thoughtful.”

Jude rolled her eyes and leaned in to catch Cardan’s mouth with her own. The kiss finally shut him up and he cradled the sides of her face in his hands, gently tugging her closer until she was nearly in his lap. He deepened the kiss, turning it from something soft to something desperate as Jude ran her hands through his hair. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down, causing him to release a shaky breath into her mouth. Cardan’s hands slid down to grip her hips and pull her into his lap so she was straddling him as they continued to kiss until they were breathless. Jude knew if she didn’t stop now, they really would both end up naked like Cardan had claimed. Reluctantly, she drew back to look at him. His eyes, already nearly black to begin with, seemed even darker. She felt something pull deep in her abdomen at the sight of him. Maybe…? No, she resolved, not in public. Giving him one last kiss, Jude withdrew back to her spot on the blanket, Cardan’s hand reaching out to her with a look of desperation on his face. Lord help her, he was giving her those puppy dog eyes.

With a laugh, she playfully swatted his hand away and said, “Later.”

As if to prove her point, the sounds of a family walking nearby with their giggling kids and barking dog drifted into their little nook.

Cardan sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Wouldn’t want to shock that poor family by ravaging each other right here in this very romantic alcove.”

After they finished eating, they ended up taking off their shoes and rolling up their pant legs to dangle their feet in the water. A frog croaked somewhere along the banks and birds flew to the water before darting away again. Beside her, Cardan laid back in the grass with his eyes closed.

“How did you even find this place?” Jude asked again softly.

Cardan opened his eyes and fixed them on Jude. “Sometimes I need to get away.”

“So you run to the woods?” Jude teased.

“Yes, obviously,” Cardan huffed as he sat up and nudged her with his shoulder. “Haven’t you ever wanted to become a forest cryptid after running away from society?”

Jude laughed. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

“You should try it sometime. Wailing in the woods is very cathartic.”

By the time they left the park, the sun was beginning to set. They had accidentally fallen asleep while staring up at the clouds and only woke up when Jude began drooling on Cardan’s stomach and he had woken up with a small shriek thinking there was a spider crawling on him.

The car ride was pleasantly quiet, Jude’s head blissfully free of worries, Cardan’s thumb tracing circles along the back of her hand on the console between them. Jude had to admit it was a good birthday.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Cardan broke the silence. “Why don’t you celebrate your birthday?” The question was hesitant, leaving Jude the space to ignore it should she not want to share this little tidbit of her life. But after everything she’d already shared with Cardan, it seemed silly to hide this. Honestly, it was something she’d bottled up for so many years that she found the prospect of sharing it to be like lifting a weight off her chest.

“It makes me sad,” she replied barely above a whisper. “I miss my parents. Madoc always did something for our birthday but it wasn’t the same, you know? I miss the way my mom would squeeze us in her arms after we blew out the candles, and how my dad would try to take a picture but end up blinding us or himself with the flash. My mom loved those prank candles that would keep relighting after you blew them out and Taryn would shriek and I’d laugh and my dad would say I was going to be an arsonist if I didn’t get my fascination with fire under control.”

Cardan gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “They sound wonderful,” he said very quietly.

“They were.” Jude wiped a stray tear off her face and stared out the window as they lapsed back into silence.

From her back pocket, Jude’s phone started screaming it's ringtone at her, making her jump hard enough to bash her elbow into the car door. “Sonofabi--,” she exclaimed as she dug the phone from her jeans and answered it right before it went to voicemail. “Hello?”

“Where the fuck are you?” Vivi’s frantic voice filtered through the phone.

“What? Why, what’s going on?” Panic was starting to build in Jude’s chest and she saw her same fear reflected in Cardan’s gaze as he looked to her for what she needed from him.

“It’s your birthday!” Vivi said, like this explained everything. The worry in Jude’s chest dissolved into irritation.

“So?”

“So?!” Vivi repeated. “So Taryn and I are already at Madoc’s for your birthday dinner and you’re nowhere to be found.”

“Oh fuck. Fuck! I totally forgot!”

“Obviously! Look, I’ll try to stall until you get here. Taryn brought Locke so you might as well bring Cardan too. Get here as fast as you can, dumbass.” With that, Vivi hung up.

Jude turned to Cardan, where he was looking at her expectantly. “We have to go to my dad’s.”

They barely made it through the front door before Vivi was upon them like a hyena. “Thank god you’re here, Madoc is starting to throw a fit.”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Madoc stepped into the foyer and gave Jude a withering look. “Why aren’t you dressed?” He barked.

Jude was fairly certain her clothes hadn’t fallen off, leaving her standing in the doorway naked, but she still looked down at herself in assessment. She was very clearly dressed.

“Never mind, some of your old dresses are still in your room, you must get changed before the guests arrive.” He took in Cardan’s attire and made a face like he had just drank spoiled milk. “I suppose you’ll do.”

Jude was feeling a little lost. “Guests?”

“Yes, Jude, guests. This is, afterall, a birthday party. I don’t want you embarrassing me in front of all our family friends and associates, so I suggest you go change out of that ratty sweater before everyone arrives.” Without waiting for a reply, Madoc left the room in the same storm he had entered it with.

“Guests?” Jude asked again, this time directing her attention at Vivi.

Vivi shrugged. “Oh you know dear old dad, he’ll turn everything into a business affair given half the chance. Now go get dressed so I don’t have to bury you on your birthday.”

Jude's childhood bedroom was sparse. Most of her things had been moved to her apartment after leaving Madoc’s, but there were a few things left behind: a bed, a handful of stuffed animals, an old dresser that was long but low with an attached mirror, and a bookcase with children's books still lining it's shelves. It was this last one that Cardan drifted to as Jude shut the door behind her. She drifted to her closet and the few dresses that remained there.

"Alice in Wonderland?" He said, taking a collectors edition off the top shelf. "This was my favorite book as a kid."

"You can have it," Jude said as she walked out of the closet in her chosen dress for the night and leaned against the nightstand after zipping the back up the rest of the way. Cardan raised his eyebrows at her over his shoulder and set the book down on the bed.

"It's your birthday," he purred, coming up to her and running his hands along her hips before shifting them so they were pressed squarely against his. He easily lifted her up and set her down on the dresser for him to settle between her knees. Jude felt her breath catch. "I'm supposed to be the one giving you a gift."

"Is the gift sex?" Jude breathed as Cardan ran his lips along her throat.

He chuckled against her collarbone, and lord help her, she felt hot all over.

"No," he said, his voice low and undeniably sexy. "But the option's always on the table."

He continued to leave a trail of hot kisses along her skin as her almost feverish body continued to get hotter. Cardan was driving her crazy, and if the smile he pressed into her pulse point was any indication, he knew it to.

"God, this dress, Jude…"

"What? Don't like it?" She managed, looking down at the midnight blue fabric that hugged her curves nicely before pooling loosely just above her knees.

"I like you in it, that's for sure. But I'd also like you without it right about now." Cardan's fingers were gently running up the sides of her thighs.

"Then take it off," she whispered in his ear.

His fingers came to the hem of her underwear and she shimmied out of them as he gently tugged them down. Then his hands were right where she wanted them, teasing her, exploring her, all while he continued to kiss every available inch of her skin. She gasped and, without fully meaning too, dug her nails into Cardan's shoulder as he inserted a finger. He was going too damn slow. She wanted more more more more.

"Cardan," she moaned. He smiled against her skin once more and added another finger. "Fuck, Cardan."

His strokes were reverent, like he was worshipping her. With his free hand he slid the strap of her dress off her right shoulder. Then her left. Her dress pooled around her waist on the dresser and his mouth found her breasts.

More more more more.

"This is all I've been able to think about since we kissed earlier," he said against her mouth.

"Yeah?"

"Jude…"

She kissed him, the kiss getting more and more desperate as his fingers continued to stroke her. His rhythm was slowly dissolving as his own desire drove him just as crazy. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him, and she wanted him bad.

"Do you have a condom?" She asked around her panting.

"Would you hate me if I said I've been carrying one since the first time we had sex?"

Jude's laugh was low and sultry. "No, I wouldn't hate you. If anything I'd say thank god."

His fingers found a particularly sensitive spot and she bit her lip to contain the last half of a yelp that tore through her. She could feel her hips rocking against him even though she wasn't consciously doing it. When she looked down, she could see cardan hard and straining against his tight jeans.

"Get the condom," she pleaded.

Much to her disappointment, Cardan withdrew the hand inside her to remove his wallet from his back pocket in order withdraw a condom and shuck off his pants. His mouth found hers in a desperate series of kisses as he slid the condom on and then his hands were on her again and oh she was losing her mind.

"Cardan?"

"Hmm?"

"The bed."

He backed up and sat down on the edge of the bed. Jude hopped off the dresser, her dress falling the rest of the way off her body to collect in a pool at her feet. Steadily, she walked over to Cardan, aware of his gaze taking in every inch of her exposed skin. His eyes seemed to gleam.

"God you're so fucking beautiful," he said.

Jude settled into his lap. He was looking up at her in a way that made her stomach tumble even more as he leaned back and braced himself with a hand against the mattress behind him. His other hand cradled Jude against his body. And then, finally, he slid into her.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered as Jude began rocking her hips. His hands grabbed hold of her waist, he buried his head against her chest, and his breath came in short, hot gasps as Jude rode him.

When he began to move his hips beneath her, Jude let out a cry of pleasure, which drew a chuckle out of cardan.

"As much as I love to hear your moans, you might want to try to be quiet, darling," he purred in that way that made Jude want to do very unholy things to him.

Her mind was struggling for words as she shoved at his chest to push his back against the mattress. Finally, she managed, "Fuck you, Greenbriar."

"I think you already are."

"Then fuck me."

With a laugh he bucked his hips and she threw her head back in pleasure, Cardan's fingers trailing her exposed throat before sliding into her hair. His free hand had a firm hold on her hips as he rocked his and oh my god she was nearing the edge of a cliff. His teeth grazed her collarbone before finding her nipple, his hand slid in the small space between them and began running circles on her and oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…

Jude fell off that cliff with a cry as Cardan fell with her.

Trying to catch her breath, Jude collapsed on top of Cardan. Beneath her cheek his chest rose and fell as fast as hers, his heartbeat going a mile a minute. Jude didn't mind the sweat sticking to his skin, or how her own sweaty skin made their stomachs stick together. She just laid with her head on his chest, legs still around his hips, and closed her eyes as his fingers stroked her back, her hair, tucking a stray strand behind her ear. Jude decided she could live in this moment forever. Being held by Cardan after being loved by him, slowly beginning to doze off as she breathed in the scent of his skin, enveloped in the warmth of it.

"Jude," he said gently.

"Hmm?"

"We should probably make ourselves decent and go back downstairs before someone comes looking for us." This elicited a groan of a different variety than moments before from Jude. Cardan gave a soft laugh and pressed his lips against her sweaty forehead.

"Come on, Jude. I'd rather not get caught having sex with you by your dad."

"But you're not having sex with me anymore," she teased. This made Cardan smile wickedly. Before she could think about the wisdom behind her own taunt, Cardan had them flipped over so he was on top of her.

"You're right, my sweet villain," he purred, "but I can still drive you crazy." His fingers grazed down her stomach, millimeters away from where she was once again hot all over, before he pulled away from her and started pulling on his pants.

"I really fucking hate you sometimes, you know that?" Jude said.

With a laugh, Cardan buckled his pants and leaned over the bed so he was propped over Jude again. "Come on," he said, helping her sit up. "We can pick up where we left off once we get back to your apartment."

That didn't seem soon enough. But Cardan was handing her her dress and she grumpily slipped it on. After both using the bathroom attached to her room, she led the way to her bedroom door and was about to pull it open when Cardan's hand stopped her. Gently, so gently, he spun her around and pressed her back against the door. He kissed her, once, and then he was pulling open the door, his fingers interlocking with hers, and they were going back downstairs.

The party passed in a blur. The guests were there more for Madoc than for Jude and Taryn and the twins seemed to orbit on different axises. Jude saw Taryn in passing but never stopped to talk, and Vivi tried to split her time between the two of them while making sure they both knew how much it irritated her. Throughout the night, Cardan stole kisses in secluded places. The empty kitchen, a corner in the hallway, behind a potted plant by the tables overflowing with food. On the back patio with the stars shining down on them. Jude cherished every kiss, every touch, and felt herself fall a little more each time.

“Happy birthday, Jude,” Cardan whispered against her skin as he settled an opal necklace around her throat.

#jurdan #jurdan au #the cruel prince #my writing #the wicked king #the folk of the air #jude x cardan #text post #okay to reblog

39 notes · View notes