#someone else mentioned it and i really do think 'sydney' was a name for the brooklynn recast while avoiding spoilers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

babybluebex · 3 years ago

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𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄. | 𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | dominic cobb recruits you to influence your boss to split his company, but the dream you enter becomes more than you bargained for as you learn what robert fischer really thinks of you. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | robert fischer (inception) x fem!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.6k 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut (MDNI!), unprotected sex, a whiff of breeding kink, mentions of oral sex (f!receiving), i can't stop thinking about cillian's bandy little chest so it makes an appearance 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | this is a little weird but HEAR ME OUT IM PROUD OF IT OK // taglist blog: @cremebruhleewrites

When the man named Cobb first approached you, you had rejected his offer. He hadn’t done a very deep explanation of what he needed your help with; something about getting some sort of information from your boss. You had asked him what exactly he wanted you to do, and he had said, “You are going to infiltrate Fischer’s dreams and put an idea into his subconscious.” Of course, you called him crazy. How in the actual hell do you infiltrate people’s dreams? That wasn’t a thing, and you didn’t believe him in the slightest. Cobb seemed to be merely a man who was trying to con you, because what the fuck else was he doing?

And then he proved you wrong. After he finally convinced you to at least hear him out and do a trial run of the dream hacking, along with up-front payment, you allowed him to hook you up to that suspect machine. When you fell asleep, your dream was more surreal than ever before. You could see everything clearly, you could hear all of your surroundings, the air had a smell and a taste. It was all real, as real as reality. Cobb appeared by your side and explained the finer details of what he needed you to do to your boss. “I work for a powerful man,” Cobb said. “He needs Fischer to break up the company, and we’re going to implant that thought into his dream. Me and my team will be on his flight from Sydney to Los Angeles,” Cobb told you. “We’ll sedate him— you too, to ensure you don’t wake up during it— and you’ll jump into his dream. He’ll trust anything you tell him; even in his sleep, he trusts you more than he’ll ever trust someone that he thinks is just a figment of his imagination. Once you plant the thought in his head— split up the company, do what he wants instead of what his father wants— you'll both receive a kick to wake you up.”

“And this is safe?” you asked.

“Yes,” Cobb told you. “We’re safe now, aren’t we? But you have to remember; although it seems like reality, ultimately, Fischer will have full control over what happens. It’s his dream. Go with the flow of what happens.Oh! And you can’t let him know it’s a dream. He has to think it’s reality. You understand?”

You didn’t know your boss all that well, to be honest, and you certainly didn’t believe that he trusted you as much as Cobb thought he did. Robert Fischer was a sort-of cold man, definitely cut off from the majority of people and seemingly pleased with that life, the heir to a massive fortune and company that, all in all, stood to make the young Fischer very important and rich. You knew that his father Maurice was everything that Robert was ten-fold and, although you had never met the man, every time Robert returned to his office following a meeting with his terminally-ill, bedridden father, you cursed Maurice. Robert never let it show, but you knew that whatever Maurice said definitely cut him to his core. You never dared to ask what was said, though; you were just Robert’s personal assistant. You got his coffee and picked up his dry-cleaning, you were by no means that close. Which made Cobb’s declaration of Robert’s trust in you all that more dubious.

The cabin on the plane was cold and dry, just as it always was in first class, and Robert was quick to pull off his stuffy jacket and roll up his sleeves. You sat down easily, acting like nothing was any different than any other ten hour flight from Sydney to Los Angeles that you had grown accustomed to, but you did everything you could to avoid eyes. Cobb nor Arthur even dared to look in your direction, and you distantly heard Cobb speaking to Robert. You acted like you didn’t really care, especially after Cobb said how much he ‘admired’ Robert’s work. The entire exchange culminated in Cobb lacing Robert’s drink with the sedative, and your stomach seized uncomfortably when you watched Robert unknowingly ingest the drug. You knew that it was all the plan, but it still was uncomfortable to watch.

Finally, just a few minutes after Robert took his drink, he was out cold. Not even Cobb dropping his bag in his lap woke him up, and you knew how light of a sleeper Robert was. Arthur quickly moved out of his chair and began to set up the machine to send you into Robert’s dream, and Cobb leaned over to you. “Remember,” he began. “Whatever happens, happens. But put the thought in his head, that’s all we need.”

“How do I say that?” you realized. “I can’t just come right out with it.”

“No, you can’t,” Cobb said. “He has to think it’s like any other dream. So act natural, do whatever he seems to expect of you. Just find a way to tell him that. Even if he subconsciously understands, it’ll translate into the real world; if, in his dream, someone he trusts gives him advice, he’s likely to take it. He might not even realize that it was you who told him. The mind is a powerful place.”

Sunlight blinded you, and you pried your sticky eyes open. It took a moment for your fuzzy eyesight to right itself, but you saw the stark whiteness of a hotel room around you. The curtains on the window were open, the doors to the balcony wide to allow a warm breeze to drift inside. The place smelled like cigar smoke and suntan lotion and an odder, more human scent that you couldn’t make out, and you shifted to feel the warm caress of the bedsheets against your legs. You were alone in the bed, although it was obvious that someone else had previously been there, based on the slight divot next to you. An expensive hotel in a tropical location. What the hell sort of dream was this?

Your confusion disoriented you, and you nearly missed the shadow that loomed at the open doorway to the balcony. Once you finally saw him, though, your mouth went dry. Robert stood there, his head tilted slightly as he watched you sleep. His hooded, blue eyes were dreary with sleep and his wispy black hair all ruffled up, but he had a smile on his face nonetheless. He was only half-dressed, his bare chest on display in the golden morning sun with grey sweatpants that had obviously seen Robert through his university days. He looked good; more than good, actually. He was handsome. “Finally decided to wake up, hmm?” Robert chuckled, and he crossed back to the bed and sat down next to you, obviously where he had been sleeping. He tilted his head as he looked at you, and he reached out and gently pushed a lock of hair out of your face. “My silly girl… I was starting to wonder if you’d ever wake up.”

You remembered Cobb’s warning, to go with the flow, and, when you reached out for Robert and saw a glittering diamond ring and band on your finger, it didn’t take long to realize what Robert’s dream was. You were married and on some sort of vacation. Maybe a honeymoon? “Only to see you, Rob,” you replied, taking his hand in yours. You played with his matching wedding band for a moment, trying to gauge the amount of aging it had, and it looked brand new. Honeymoon, definitely. “It looks good on you.”

“It’s just a ring,” Robert chuckled, and you couldn’t help but smile at the blush that came over his sculpted cheeks.

“Aw, but it’s our ring,” you whispered.

Robert took your hand tightly in his, and he leaned down to meet you. Before you were really sure of what he was doing, he had pressed his lips to yours and his hand to your cheek. Your heart pounded in your chest at the sudden realization that your boss was certainly having some sort of wet dream about you, but you didn’t entirely hate the idea of it. Sure, Robert was a more than eligible bachelor and you had had the lone thought every now and then, but you never thought you’d get to experience it. Why would you? More than anything, he was your boss. It shouldn’t have been allowed. Hence, why Robert had created the scenario. You hated to wonder if Cobb and everyone could see what was going on.

You broke the kiss and smoothed your hands up Robert’s soft, built arms. “Mmm, Rob, you feel tense,” you told him, pouting at him. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“It’s just work,” Robert replied, chasing you back with a kiss. You giggled against his lips, and his arms went around your shoulders as he kissed you again. “You know how I get.”

“I know, I know,” you said. “I just worry about you, my handsome Mr. Fischer. Anyway, it’s our honeymoon, why’re you letting work get to you?”

“I worry about it when I’m not there,” Robert mumbled. “I know that being away for a week won’t make or break the company but I just…” he paused, and he shook his head. “I’m so used to worrying about it, I don’t know how not to.”

When you moved, it didn’t feel like you were in control of yourself. You knew that you had to be, though; Robert couldn’t control you. It was like Cobb had told you, everything you did was of your own accord. You pulled Robert back into a deep kiss, taking fistfuls of his hair to urge him closer. He took no time to do so, slotting himself easily between your thighs as he gently bit your bottom lip. It weirdly felt good to kiss Robert— his mouth was soft and warm, the small bit of mustache growing on his lip rubbing your face but you didn’t hate it. He tasted like cigars, and you broke the kiss. “Did you just smoke?” you asked, and Robert shrugged.

“I’m celebrating, my love,” he told you. His hand fell from your face to play with the edge of the bedsheet, still tugged up around your body, and you bit your lip as you batted his hand away. “You’re finally mine. Can’t a man smoke a cigar?”

“You can,” you said. “It makes you taste good, Robby.” Robert smiled. You liked that. He looked so youthful, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his high cheekbones dusting with pink.

“You haven’t called me Robby in ages,” he told you, cocking his head with a small laugh. “Not since that first time.”

“What was the first time?” you asked, and Robert laughed a little again. His hands smoothed down your covered legs, then back up, and he finally pulled the soft sheet away to slot himself easily between your thighs. It felt like he belonged there, the jut of his hips fitting into yours perfectly. It was almost as if you were made for each other.

“Well, it was around the time we started dating,” Robert said. “First time we fucked, actually. I had my head between your pretty thighs… Fuck, you were crying, if I remember right. You grabbed my hair and called me that and told me you were coming…” He paused to bite his bottom lip, and he shook his head, like he still couldn’t believe his luck. “God damn it, I fell in love with you at that exact moment.”

“The first time you made me cum?” you chuckled, and Robert rolled his eyes.

“No, silly,” he said. “Well, yes, but… You just looked so beautiful. Eyes squeezed shut, face all warm, hair everywhere. The way you said my name drove me crazy. It felt like nobody had ever called me that before. It-It really felt like an angel was saying my name. I felt it so deep in my chest, there’s no other way to explain it. You said my name, and I fell hard for you.”

Before you could really stop yourself, you said, “You should tell me how you feel.”

Robert sat up a bit, furrowing his eyebrows, and he said, “What do you mean? I am.”

You shook your head and pursed your lips as you tried to think of what exactly to say to explain yourself. “I mean… Rob, I really like you. I shouldn’t, but I do. And you obviously do too, if this is what you think about. Tell me about this.”

“I seriously don’t get what you’re saying,” Robert told you, his beautiful face still etched with confusion. His forehead was wrinkled up, his eyes narrowed, and he pursed his beautiful pink lips together.

“Act like it’s the first time,” you told him. “First time asking me out, first time telling me you like me. Do this for me, Robert. Please?”

Even though he still seemed confused, he did as you told him. “Well, umm,” he began. Both of his hands went to your thighs, and he tugged them around his waist as he pressed his dull fingernails into your skin. “I like when you bring me coffee, how you write my name on the side of it. I like how, when you pick up my dry cleaning, it sorta smells like your perfume. I like how I pretend that I don’t see you smoking on your lunch break, and how you pretend that you don’t see me doing the same… Some days, I wish I could join you and light your cigarette for you. I really like the way you come into my office to ask me something, how you lean against the doorway and cross your arms and press your head to the door. It’s really cute. And you’re so gorgeous. I’ve dreamt about you since the first day you walked into Fischer Morrow. I-I’m… Baby, I’ve already told you all of this.”

“Robby,” you pleaded, grabbing at his shoulders. “Just tell me again. Tell me now, and tell me later. Just tell me. A-And you shouldn’t worry about work. It’s a fucking stupid thing to worry about, especially when you know that the solution is right in front of you.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Robert asked. His face was scrunched as he examined you, and he cupped your cheek with his hand. “Is something wrong?”

You felt a hard thumping in your chest, like your heart was trying to burst out of your chest, and you tugged him down to kiss him again. You could recognize the solid thumping from the last time you felt it; you were waking up from the dream. You didn’t want to. You wanted to stay in it forever, if it meant you could finally have Robert the way that you wanted. You weren’t afraid to admit it anymore; you loved Robert. “Stay here with me,” you said, your mouth pressed against his. He kissed you back hungrily, his worries from before seemingly forgotten, and your hands fell from his face down to the waistband of his sweatpants. He was quick to help you shuck them off, and he moved his kisses to your neck as his fingers swiped at your cunt. “Fuck me, Robby. I need you.”

“Couldn’t stop me if you tried,” Robert said with a smile, and he took a moment to sit up. He cast his glance off to the side, to the side table next to the bed, and you put your hand on his cheek and pulled his focus back to you.

“No,” you said. “No condom. I need to feel you.”

“Are you sure?” Robert asked, and your thumping chest warmed at his reassurance. “What if—”

“I get pregnant?” you asked. “Would that be so bad?” The idea hit you like a lightning bolt, nearly knocking the breath from your throat. That was it. That was the avenue you had to take. It was right in front of you, it always had been. Guilt him. Use your newfound role as his wife to guilt him into splitting the company. “Having a little you running around? I know… I know you’re scared about it, ‘cause of your father, but you… Robert, my love, you’d be the best father, I’ll tell you that much. I know it. Y-Your father ruined you with the way he treated you; I know that you wouldn’t do that to your own son. I trust that you wouldn’t do that.”

“Fucking hell, woman,” Robert chuckled. “You know it’s so hard for me to say no to you…” He paused to pull your hips closer to his, and he pressed the burning head of his hard cock to your pussy. You didn’t look down at him; you would let that be a surprise for when you woke up. “But, God, baby. I work so much, I’d never be around for him.”

“So, don’t work as much,” you told him. You panted, making sure your tits heaved with each breath, and Robert’s blown-out eyes flicked to your tits and watched. “You hate that fucking company anyway. You should sell it or something. If it’s not yours, it’s not your problem.”

“I can’t just sell the company,” Robert whispered. “That’s— That would get me killed.”

“Split it,” you said quickly. “Only sell part of it. Sell the part that makes you wanna tear your hair out, and keep the part you’re proud of.”

“You’re the only part of Fischer Morrow I’m proud of,” Robert said, and he carefully pushed his cock into your waiting cunt. He gave a tight hiss through his teeth as his cock sank deep into you, and you grabbed his hair as you squeezed your eyes shut. The stretch of him inside you was almost excruciating, but the pain was exquisite.

“Then, just keep me,” you told him breathlessly. “Get rid of everything else. You can be there for your son, you’ll have me, you’ll be rid of that damn company… It doesn’t seem like— Fuck!” You gasped as the head of his cock nestled right into that soft nerve inside you, and he smiled like a devil. “Oh my fucking God, Robert!”

“God, you know just what to say,” your ‘husband’ told you. “I’ll talk to Uncle Peter. I’ll sell that damn company. I’ll have you, and I’ll have our son; that’s all I need. Now, be a good girl and let me fuck you to sleep.”

When you woke up, you could still taste Robert in your mouth, the cigar and faint smell of suntan lotion. You sniffled a bit and pushed your hair back, and you groggily tried to take stock of your surroundings as you sat up. You were back on the plane, Cobb and Arthur sitting around you, with Robert across the aisle from you. You felt exhausted, as if you hadn’t just been asleep for nearly ten hours, and you rubbed at your eyes with your fingers. Robert also seemed a little off, blinking slowly and playing with his suspenders. You chanced a look at Cobb, and he only raised his eyebrows as a question. You swallowed and nodded, indicating to him that you had done your job, and you tightened your jaw as you hoped and prayed that nobody else knew what you had just done. While you weren’t ashamed of it, it would certainly be a bit embarrassing if they knew.

Robert didn’t even look your way until you were on the tarmac, outside the plane. It almost seemed like he was purposefully avoiding you. You understood his predicament, though; as far as he thought, you had appeared in his dream and pleaded with him to sell the company as he fucked you. If you were in his position, you too would be trying your best to avoid him. He only spoke once you were in the back of the chauffeured car, and the door was securely closed. “Can I tell you something?” he asked, and you looked up from your planner. With a swift pen stroke, you crossed out Meeting With D. Cobb, and you capped your pen.

You wrinkled your eyebrows, and you smiled. “Confiding in me, now, are you, Mr. Fischer?” you asked, and Robert did that half-smile that he had during the dream. He licked his lips and rolled his eyes, but suddenly that cockiness disappeared. He fiddled with his cufflinks and loosened his tie and smoothed his hair back as he obviously seemed to be gathering his words, and you softly added, "Are you okay, Robert?"

“I like the way you say my name,” he told you. He lifted those damn ice-blue eyes to meet yours, and you took a deep breath. He was taking your advice. But how much would he take? “I like how you write my name on the side of my coffee cup, and how you’ll write a little smile if you’re in a good mood. I… I like whatever perfume you wear, I like smelling it on my dry cleaning when you give it to me. I like how you smoke Camels and you can never light it on the first try; whenever I see you cursing at your lighter, it makes me wish I could just light your damn cigarette for you myself. And I like how you sorta turn your head a bit when you need to ask me something, like a little puppy, almost…”

“Robert,” you said carefully. “What are you doing?”

“I…” he started, and shook his head. “It sounds stupid, but… On the plane, when I was asleep, I had this dream… You were there, a-and you told me that I should just fucking tell you how I feel about you. So I am. I really like you, a lot, a-and I was wondering if you wanted to maybe get dinner or something?”

Your lips turned up into a smile, and you pressed your hand to his knee. “I’d love to get dinner with you, Robby.”

#robert fischer #inception #cillian murphy #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer x y/n #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #i'm ready for this to flop but i'm hopeful

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hansensgirl · 3 years ago

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salvatore. | vi.

series summary. | Bucky Barnes doesn’t believe in love anymore. Especially after the tragic, unknown death of his wife, Natasha. He thinks it’s stupid and a waste of time and- oh my. Hello there, you. There you were, with your notebooks and your novels, writing your heart away. He’s hellbent on saving you from this nasty world, his elusive neighbor that has him under the stupid spell of love. You soon find yourself trapped in a tragic love story with Bluebeard, not Prince Charming.

warnings. | NONCON/DUBCON, dark themes, manipulation, gaslighting, arguments, toxic relationships (reader and steve), cheating, nightmares, violent behaviour? (no actual hitting), spying, voyeurism, stalking, use of cameras, angst, fluff, soft!dark!bucky, protectiveness, obsessiveness, creepy bucky, perversion, + more. 18+, MINORS DNI.

word count. | 2.5k

pairings. | Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Steve Rogers.

a/n. | i know i haven’t updated in a while i’m really sorry!! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog!

“Doll, please calm down. You’re scaring me,” Steve begged, sitting on the bed. “How can I calm down, Steve? Huh? You only just came back, and now you’re going away again,” you spat, crossing your arms. Your stance was almost adorable, but Steve knew that if he made a comment, he’d just push you further away. He couldn’t let that happen. “Why can’t you ask for a vacation, Stevie? We haven’t done anything romantic since my birthday, and that was six months ago.” You turned your back to Steve, and he sighed.

“I’m sorry, Doll, but I have to go save the world,” he solemnly told you. His voice carried a faux sadness that shouldn’t even be there in the first place. “Bullshit, you have so many more people to do it. Sam, Wanda, Tony—don’t lie, Steve. Why are you going to Sydney? There’s no way you have to travel to another continent to mess up some sort of drug deal. Isn’t that what the police are for?” you questioned him.

Tears stung your eyes. They were ones of anger, but you couldn’t lie. In the midst of them, were sad ones ready to leak, too. Steve stayed silent. “For fucks sake, Steve, you can’t even give me an answer?” you asked in disbelief. You gasped as the tears began to fall. “I knew it, I knew it the whole time,” you whispered under your breath. “Knew what?” he asked, walking up to you. You backed up into the corner of the room.

“That you’re cheating on me,” you mumbled quietly. “What? Baby– no, listen.” He paused to take a deep breath, meant to calm his nerves down. “I don’t want to hear anything, Steve. I know about you and Natasha. All those trips? Those text messages? God, the only person I feel bad for is myself. How could I be so blind to it all?” you shook your head as you spoke. You walked around Steve’s strong figure and headed towards the door. “Where are you going?” He called out, following you behind.

“For some fresh air, I can’t handle this,” you yelled back, but Steve only sped his steps up. “You’re not leaving me, Doll,” he growled, stepping in front of you. “I never said I was, but now you’re tempting me,” you snapped back. “You’re not leaving me, Doll. You never can.” Steve gripped your shoulders tightly, and you winced in pain. “Even if you did, I’ll go to the ends of the Earth to get you back.”

Your eyes shot open. Gasping, you struggled to catch your breath. Your heart pumped like no tomorrow. Each time your chest raised to the highest point, you felt like you had a heart attack. You fell back onto your pillow, and you couldn't care enough about the slightly painful thud that came with it. Nightmares were never pleasant. Though they give amazing writing inspiration, they still were not nice.

Unfortunately, your nights seemed to be filled with them. Every time you fell asleep for the past week, you’d wake up in a panicky mode. At that point, you were okay with settling for a weird dream that resembled surrealistic art. Who wouldn’t want to have a Dali-inspired dream? You rubbed your eyes roughly and could feel the exhaustion in your every movement.

Your phone rang loudly. The sound made you jump in shock, and you reached to your bedside table for it. The screen read Bucky’s name, and you sighed. You answered the phone and brought it to your ear. “Hey, Bucky,” you croaked tiredly. He laughed, and you could hear the exhaustion in his voice. But the sound of tiredness differed from yours. “Did I wake you up?” he asked, and you moaned. “No, I just woke up,” you told him. “Why would you wake up at one in the morning, Doll?” he asked.

“Nightmare,” you breathlessly told him. You could swear on the daisy that began to bloom two weeks ago that you started to feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders. “Talk to me, Doll. Was it bad?” he questioned. “Yeah, it was worse than the previous ones.” You hadn’t even realized that you just spilled your secret. “You’ve been getting them for the past few nights? Doll– I’m so sorry, but you know you can always talk to me, right?”

His words were more reassuring than anything Steve ever said. “I know, it’s just… The nightmares—they’re very personal. You might not understand how scary they are. Plus, I don’t want to bother you,” you sheepishly admitted to him. He sighed heavily. “I understand, Doll, but you can never bother me, okay? I’m the one who’s supposed to feel that way, not you,” he chuckled, just to ease the tension.

“Now, I’m gonna be there in the next twenty minutes. Do you think you can sort yourself out by then?” he asked, and you started to stutter. “Uhm, sure, yeah, sure,” you agreed obediently. “Good girl, I’ll be there in a few.” And with that, he hung up. Your eyeballs bulged out of their sockets at those two words he uttered. Steve never said anything like that. He’d always just nod, even if you couldn't see it. You simply wrapped yourself in one of your most favourite blankets because changing seemed pointless to you.

There was no way he was not in pyjamas… right?

You turned the lamp on next to you before you could convince yourself that your chair was a monster. Your back was cold but also covered in sweat. You hated that feeling, and your mother always had the best way to describe it. “It’s like heating something in the microwave but failing nonetheless. The outside of it is warm, but the inside is still cold.” She’d tell you as she’d wipe down your back with a towel.

That was before everything went downhill. Before you turned thirteen and before she married him.

You sighed and got out of bed, willing yourself to put the kettle on. Maybe you’ll make some hot chocolate, or perhaps some tea… In your mind, twenty minutes always seemed like a long time. It sounded as though you could get quite a lot done in a third of an hour. The reality always felt like getting ice water poured on you as a method for waking up.

Unless your life was significantly put together, those one thousand and two hundred seconds are equivalent to five minutes. The ceramic lid for the jar clinked as you set it down on the counter. You grabbed two chamomile tea bags and closed the pot with a ‘ping!’. You grabbed two cups from the cupboard and then groaned loudly when you realized that you hadn’t turned the kettle on.

With a flick of your finger, you turned it on and leaned onto the counter. You sighed pretty loudly. Your head fell into the cup that your hands made, and you closed your eyes. You didn’t have a headache, and your eyes didn’t hurt either; you were just exhausted. You sighed once again, and the kettle clicked, telling you the water was done boiling.

Timing was everything, as always. And sometimes “timing” is just a coincidence, just like how Bucky rang the doorbell as soon as the water stopped boiling. You rubbed your eyes and walked to the door slowly, not caring that he may have been standing out there for thirty seconds too long. You opened it—not all the way—but wide enough for him to catch a glimpse of your tired form. “Hi,” he greeted, letting himself in.

Bucky looked around your home as if he was waiting for someone to round the corner with a knife and shotgun. “Nice place,” he said with an awkward smile on his face. “Thanks, even though our homes are formatted the same way,” you chuckled. He nodded, and then a few seconds after, he let out a forced laugh. You looked up at him and gave him a meek grin, and then went back to making the tea.

“I’m so glad I have two bags of chamomile left. It’s like the universe has decided to bless me again,” you breathlessly said. “What was the blessing before?” he curiously asked. “You.” You poured the hot water inside the cups, and then the bags of tea followed. “Honey or sugar?” you asked, and he pointed at the sugar. You passed it to him wordlessly, and the only sounds that filled the room were from your lungs and cups of tea.

“So… Do you want to talk about it?” he asked after a few more wordless moments. “S- sure, thank you once again! You’re so kind,” you sighed as you brought the cup of tea to your mouth. Bucky copied your movements, but just a bit slower. “It was about my ex,” you admitted once you set your cup down. Bucky struggled to keep his eyes from popping out of their sockets at your mention of him.

“It was so similar to an argument we had a few months before I broke up with him… The only difference was that he wasn’t as… terrifying. And yet he still scared me,” you solemnly spoke. Bucky stretched a hand across the counter and placed it on your shoulder. He pleasantly squeezed it a bit, and you were tempted to lean into his touch.

But you just can’t, because Steve is in the back of your mind, taunting you.

“What really happened in the dream?” he asked, and you took another sip of tea. “Well… We were fighting. He had to go away for a while, even though he just came back. He’d always do that; it’s what helped destroy our relationship. He valued his job over me, and also, someone else,” you sadly recounted. Bucky listened in carefully, because he wanted to help out his best girl in any way possible.

“I caught him in his lies because his excuses became so… Inexplicable. I always had that nagging feeling that he was cheating on me with his friend, his coworker. That argument confirmed everything. I couldn’t handle it all being true, so I tried to leave for a walk,” you paused to take a shaky breath. “He got angry and stopped me, and then he threatened me,” you bluntly finished.

Bucky was so glad that his hand was no longer resting on your shoulder because Goddamn was his fist clenched tightly. You brought the cup of tea up to your mouth, and Bucky just watched you as you diverted your eyes away from him. Once you set the cup down, Bucky grabbed your hands. In contrast, his were extremely hot, and yet the flesh one was dry. Yours were a bit cold, but they were soft and a bit dewy. You looked up at him, only to lock eyes.

“It’s just a dream, doll, okay? And it’s in the past, it won’t happen again, our minds can be crazy sometimes, so try not to worry about it,” he whispered lowly, bringing both of your hands up to his mouth. He pressed a kiss on both sets of your knuckles. You nodded softly, and you leaned down to press a kiss on his flesh knuckles in return. You smiled against his skin, even though it was bruised and slightly red. You wanted to ignore the weird feeling of his metal arm against your sweaty skin, but you couldn’t help it.

“Can- Can I do the thing to your metal hand?” you asked him, hopeful that he would say yes. Bucky nodded, with a slight smile on his face, of course. You closed your eyes and puckered your lips just a bit, pecking the metal. His breathing hitched, unbearably so. It was something he would always catch himself doing whenever he’d think about you or whenever he was simply just in your presence. You opened up eyes and looked back up at him, and you could see the way his eyes glazed over.

He let go of your hands abruptly, allowing them to fall onto the marble countertop. His fingers slotted themselves against your cheeks, and he grabbed your face gently. Bucky pulled you close to him, and he smashed his lips against yours. The kiss was messy, but it was full of passion. You kept your lips locked against his, and your fingers carded through his long hair. There was no other movement apart from the way Bucky kept trying to pull you closer and closer.

It was almost like he wanted to merge bodies, minds, and souls with you.

A few more seconds passed, and Bucky eventually pulled away. He rested his forehead against yours, and you exhaled a shaky breath. “Steve… His name is Steve, and I hate him,” you admitted to him, and Bucky kissed your nose. “And I hate him too, doll,” Bucky said before parting ways from you. There was a bit of tea left in his cup, but you had finished all of yours. “Get some rest, okay? Or just close your eyes for a bit. You need it,” he advised, and you nodded. “Thank you, Bucky. I really appreciate you being there for me,” you expressed to him.

“Anything for you, doll, now go tuck yourself in,” he urged once again before walking past you to the door. You placed the cups in the sink, and neither of you looked back at each other. You heard the door shut with a loud echo, and you sighed heavily. Maybe you were going to listen to him. Sleeping in isn’t that bad after all.

Bucky always believed that being vulnerable was stupid. He also believed that opening up was stupid. But, to be fair, he believed that anything involving emotions was stupid. But when it comes to you, he felt the opposite. Maybe vulnerability was good. Perhaps it was exactly where you needed to be for him to finally be able to love you.

And it was then when he realized that he hadn’t been loving you properly. He hadn’t been loving you the way he wanted to love Natasha, and that just ended up with her six feet deep with flowers growing above her body. He needed you, but you clearly needed him more than anything else. Bucky was desperate for you at times, of course, but you matter more to him than anything else.

Bucky looked down at his desk, staring at the single plane ticket that would take him all the way across the state of New York. He hadn’t been there in over a year, and that was when he first learned of Natasha’s promiscuity. Philandering around with his best friend, fucking said best friend in the most memorable locations he had taken her.

He honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if he found out that the reason why Natasha showed up to the wedding venue late was that she was too busy lifting up that poofy white gown for Steve. He thought that by emptying out Pandora’s box when she passed, everything would be okay. That he’d be able to move on without a care, and he wouldn’t have to shed any more tears for her. Bucky won’t. He promised himself he wouldn't.

He just had a few loose ends to wrap up before he made you his. That was all.

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

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Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 2)

i quite liked this story and thought it totally had potential for more, so i’ve cooked up a part 2, continuing the idea. i have no clear plan with this, just enjoyed taking the story further, but i might turn it into a proper series if you guys are enjoying the concept!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: ~3.2k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

The car comes to a halt and you look up from your phone after being so occupied with texts you’ve been ignoring all afternoon.

“We’ve arrived, Miss,” The driver, Lawrence informs you in his usual, polite manner, looking at you through the mirror.

“Oh, thank you so much,” you breathe out grabbing your purse from the seat next to you. “I don’t think I’ll take too long, I’m not really in the mood to party,” you let him know, quickly running your hand through your hair before getting out, already knowing paparazzi is waiting for all guests at the entrance probably.

“Had a long day?” he asks with a soft smile.

“Kind of,” you sigh nodding. “I’ll text you when I’ll feel like heading home soon, alright?”

“Perfect. Have a great night, Miss,” Lawrence nods.

“Thank you,” you nod at him before opening the door and getting out of the car. Strategically, Lawrence stopped just a few buildings away from the club, so you wouldn’t be attacked right away, emerging from the car. This gives you enough time to fix your dress and avoid your private parts to end up on the tabloids. Not something you want to include in your career, if you’re being honest.

Shutting the door closed you head towards the club that has quite a long line of people waiting outside, though you have no idea why. If they are not on the list, there’s no way they’ll get inside, it’s a private party.

As you approach the entrance, people start to recognize you quite quickly and you hear your name coming from all direction, but you just flash a smile in their way, continuing to walk with the intention of getting inside as fast as possible.

Just as you expected, paparazzi are already waiting at the entrance and they start flashing their cameras in your way right away, throwing all kinds of questions at you that are left completely ignored.

The bouncer checks your name on the list and lets you inside without a fuss and you’re happy to leave the madness behind and mingle in the crowd of familiar faces.

Tonight is the celebration of the birthday of a good friend, a quite old friend of yours. Florence and you met quite some years ago, when both of you were only trying your luck in the industry, working hard to make yourselves a name. Now you are both are in the inner circle of Hollywood, piling iconic roles on your resumes together. So much has changed, people keep coming and going in your life, but the two of you managed to stay close and keep each other grounded when it was needed.

You keep saying hello to the people you know as you make your way through the guests, hugging a few guests, asking if they have seen Florence and they all point towards the bar. Unsurprisingly, you find the birthday girl right there, with a group of people circling around her as the bartender places a row of shots to the counter and her eyes light up at the sight of all the alcohol.

“Not even surprised you are already plastered,” you grin at her and she squeals upon seeing you join the little circle. Throwing her arms around you she jumps at you mumbling her greeting.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” she breathes out, clearly over a few drinks at this point. “I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages!”

“It happens when we are both working on a movie at the same time, in different cities,” you chuckle giving her a look.

This past month has been rather busy, you were in Atlanta finishing up filming your latest movie while Florence was in Palm Springs, working on Don’t Worry Darling, she barely made it back to the city to her own birthday party, apparently they wrapped filming just two days ago so it was a close call.

“You have to take a shot with me!” she urges, already grabbing two shots from the bar and handing you one of them, not even waiting for your answer.

“Cheers to the birthday girl!” you hold your glass up after everyone else grabbed a shot, everyone around wishes her a happy birthday again before sending down the alcohol.

You can’t help the grimace that pulls on your face as the liquor burns down your throat. It’s been a while since the last time you had anything other than a few glasses of wine, it’ll take some time to get used to the stomach churning taste.

As the host of the party and the birthday girl, Florence’s presence is in high demand, so you don’t get to spend too much time with her, but you don’t blame her. Ordering a longer drink for you, sticking with some tequila based cocktail as you mingle in the crowd of guests.

Luckily, there are quite a lot familiar faces and you don’t have to linger around the club on your own. You move to a booth at the side with Sydney, a producer you and Florence both worked together previously. She is pretty new in the world of films, but she surely is a talent and you can’t wait for everyone to realize what a blessing she and her art is. You’re joined by her girlfriend, Emma and the three of you are deep in conversation, sharing the funniest stories that happened to you lately and surprisingly, you are genuinely having a good time. You really weren’t in the mood for a party after such a long and frustrating day, having scrunched in three auditions to one day because your manager messed the dates up. When you finished with the third ones, you wanted nothing else than to just sink into a nice bath, have a glass of wine and go to bed early, making your friends’ point of you being a grandma quite valid. However you didn’t have the heart to cancel on Florence, but now that you’ve had some alcohol buzzing in your system and some good company, you don’t regret coming at all.

Once you get to the end of your drink you head back to the bar to have another one, not feeling like leaving just yet. Pushing your way through the people, some keep saying hi to you and you greet everyone back with an instinct, even if you don’t know them. Something you’ve grown to do over your years being in the spotlight.

Standing in line, just like everyone else, you patiently wait to get to the front, when you feel someone bump against you from behind.

“Excuse me—Oh! If it isn’t my favorite Never Have I Ever game partner!”

Your eyes are met with a pair of green ones and a dimpled smile, you can’t help but chuckle as you turn to greet Harry.

“Hi there! Long time no see!” you smile as he pulls you into a side-hug and stands with you in the line.

“You know, maybe you would’ve seen me earlier if you actually gave me your number,” he comments with a sly smile and you have nothing to defend yourself with, he is completely right.

That day the two of you met on The Ellen Show you were actually planning to give him your number, but once your part of the filming ended your manager called you about something urgent and you couldn’t wait for him to finish as well, leaving the studio without ever giving him the chance to even ask for your number. You felt guilty and a little disappointed, but thought your paths would sooner or later cross somehow and it seems like you were right.

“I’m sorry about that. I had some papers to sign before the office closed, I had to leave,” you apologize truthfully and he nods understanding.

“S’alright. I was a little bummed, but I get it.”

“So what are you doing here?” you ask, moving forward in the line, getting closer to the front. Harry gives you a quick look that you can’t quite read before answering.

“I uhh—Florence and I filmed together last month.”

That’s when it clicks. She told you and you read about it, but you tend to forget these kind of things, not having enough capacity to keep everything in mind, only restricting it to the most important stuff.

“Oh, right! Yeah, sorry. Totally slipped my mind. Sorry, I sounded like I live under a rock,” you awkwardly chuckle, feeling a little ashamed that you didn’t remember, when Florence even mentioned it herself before she travelled to Palm Springs, but you were running on caffeine and protein bars between takes, it’s a luck you didn’t even forget your own name after those busy weeks.

“No, s’alright. Nice to know not everyone is drowning in the content that’s been put out of me lately,” he chuckles lowly. “You look lovely, by the way,” he nods at you, eyes running down your body quickly, before they return to your gaze.

“Oh, thank you,” you breathe out looking down at yourself, as if you forgot what you were wearing. It’s a little, black Gucci dress, quite vintage with some embroidered floral patterns along the slightly daring neckline. “It’s Gucci,” you tell him with a knowing smirk.

“Oh!”

“Know you are obsessed with it,” you add with a chuckle, seemingly surprising him with your knowledge about him.

“Someone did some research about me then?”

“I’ll admit, I might have searched your name one of those nights after I had a nice glass of wine.”

“And what else did you find out about me?” he arches an eyebrow at you, making your cheeks heating up. You shouldn’t have admitted that you searched him, he’ll think you’re some kind of stalker, which you are not, you just like to catch up on things sometimes. Though you are clearly a fan of his music and you know about his career vaguely, you haven’t been keeping an eye on him that closely lately, only because you didn’t have the time. However after meeting him at the taping, he was stuck on your mind for days before you gave in and checked out what he’s been up to lately and went through some in-depth articles about him from the past years, closing the line with his latest Vogue issue.

“Nothing shocking,” you simply answer and luckily, you are next up at the bar. You ask for another cocktail and Harry chimes in, adding a beer to the order.

“I hope you know I won’t let you leave until you give me your number this time,” he smirks at you cheekily, making you chuckle.

“I never said I would give it to you.” Wanting to play a little you shrug innocently, earning a stunned look.

“Making me work for it? Alright,” he nods, trying his best to hold his grin back.

The bartender comes back with the drinks and Harry is quick to whip his card out and pay for yours as well. You’re not surprised when he follows you back to the booth to Sydney and Emma. They both greet you with bright smiles upon arriving with Harry.

“This is Sydney and Emma. Syd and I worked together a while ago. Ladies, this is—“ You start the introduction, but Sydney cuts you off quickly.

“Harry Styles. You don’t have to introduce him to us,” she chuckles shaking hand with the fourth guest at the table. “I was a big One Direction fan,” she adds with a chuckle and that’s a new information. As a former fan girl, she is holding herself quite alright in the presence of her idol.

“Oh, nice!” Harry beams, genuinely looking delighted at the information.

“Her playlists have at least one One Direction song on them still this day,” Emma laughs shaking her head, while Syd just shrugs innocently.

The four of you are quick to engage in a conversation about music, mostly about what you listened to when you were teenagers and you are having some laughs at the odd taste you all used to have.

“I think my most played song was Crazy by Britney Spears. I was obsessed with that song,” you admit and Emma groans throwing her hands in the air.

“I loved that song! Even learned the choreography!” she shares, making everyone laugh around the table.

“I bet you did too,” Harry grins in your way over his half empty beer.

“Totally did not,” you scoff with a pretentious grimace that makes it clear that you in fact did.

“I would give an arm to see you dance to that song,” he sighs with an amused grin and you just chuckle, taking another sip from your drink.

At one point Florence joins the booth, buzzing from all the birthday shots she’s been constantly taking, but making sure you all are having a good time.

“I see you guys met again!” she beams looking at you and Harry sitting next to each other. “Y/N, wanna hear something funny?” she smirks at you with glistening eyes.

“Always,” you chuckle softly.

“Once on set, I caught Harry stalking your Instagram.” The man in talk almost chokes on his beer as Florence starts laughing, clearly enjoying how she just busted her co-star, but you are having a blast at how nervous her comment got him and you find the story quite flattering.

“Flo, I think you had enough to drink,” Harry tells her, urging her to leave the booth, but she is way too caught up in getting him into trouble.

“Are you ashamed she now knows you were checking out her sexy photos for that perfume campaign she did last year?” she continues, giving away even more details. Your eyebrows run up as you look at Harry, who is desperately trying to avoid your burning gaze.

“Oh, so you’re a fond of my pictures?” you tease him, his cheeks turning redder with each passing moment.

“I mean… You looked really good.”

“And quite half naked, only covering myself with a huge perfume bottle,” you add chuckling, enjoying it probably a little too much than you should, but Harry has been so confident, flirting with you, it’s funny to see him so flustered all of a sudden.

Harry lets out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck while Florence taps his shoulder, saying something that sounded like ‘good luck, man’ before she moves over to the next group of people.

“I wasn’t stalking, your profile just popped up and—“

“Harry,” you stop him with a chuckle. “It’s fine, I was just messing with you.”

“Way to make me a wreck, Y/N,” he shoots you a narrow-eyed look, but you can see the smirk pulling on his lips.

“If it makes you feel better I checked your profile a few times too,” you admit and once again, he seems surprised.

“It does make me feel better,” he nods, his sly smirk growing wider with each passing moment he spends staring at you.

Though you’ve been enjoying the night so far you are running low on energy, so when you see it’s already past midnight you send a text to Lawrence letting him know you are planning to leave soon.

Luckily, Florence is at one of the booths near yours, so you excuse yourself from your table, walking over to her to say your goodbye.

“Leaving already?” she pouts, returning your hug.

“I’ve had a long day, I wouldn’t want to be the grumpy guest to ruin others’ night,” you tell her with an apologetic smile and she nods understanding.

“I’m happy I saw you. We need to do something sometime soon!”

“Sure thing. I’ll have a looser schedule in the upcoming months. Call me whenever you are around and free,” you tell her kissing her cheek and giving her hand a soft squeeze. “Happy birthday once more.” “Thank you babe!” she cheers as you let go of each other.

Walking back to your booth you say goodbye to Sydney and Emma, making the same promise to meet up with them sometime soon. When you turn to Harry he is already up on his feet and offers to walk you out.

“Just to the exit. There are a shit ton of paparazzi outside,” you tell him and he nods, placing a hand to your lower back, ushering you through the crowd. The two of you stop near the exit since Lawrence hasn’t replied to you that he has arrived and you definitely don’t want to wait outside.

“So, are you gonna leave without giving me your number this time as well?” he asks tilting his head to the side as he hides his hands in his pockets lazily.

“Maybe I’m just trying to see if fate is gonna throw you in my way again,” you tease him, but reach for your phone in your purse. “Send yourself a text,” you tell him handing him the device.

He doesn’t try to hide the satisfied grin as he types his number in and sends a quick text to himself so he has your number. Handing it back you just take it and check if Lawrence has texted you. Right at that moment the screen lights up with a short ‘I’ve arrived, Miss’ text and you slide the phone back into your purse.

“Well, it’s been nice seeing you again, Harry,” you say your goodbye and stepping closer you engage in a short, but tight hug.

“You too, Y/N,” he smiles down at you. “Never have I ever had the number of an Emmy nominated actress’ number,” he smirks making you laugh.

“Drink up, Styles,” you tell him cheekily before you walk away, out of the club.

Lawrence is parked right in front of the building and you try to shield your vision from all the flashes as you get into the back seat as fast as possible.

“Hello, Lawrence!” you greet the man in a very delighted mood and he senses the change in you.

“Had a great evening, Miss?” he asks as he leaves from the club and heads to your apartment’s building.

“I did,” you nod biting into your bottom lip. Reaching into your purse you pull your phone out to check the text Harry sent himself.

You can’t help the chuckle that leaves your mouth when you see the short message he sent to his contact that he just saved under Harry S.

“I promise I won’t ghost you.” That’s what the text reads and as you are looking at the conversation you see the bubble popping up that signals that he is typing right now.

“So nice of you. Please keep that promise!” His text appears on the screen and you chuckle under your breath.

“Cheeky.” You write back.

“Maybe, but now I have evidence. Don’t even try to put me on your ghosted list!”

“Will think about it…” you write back with a sly smile before you lock the phone and put it away, letting your head rest against the back of the seat, eyes closing as you can’t wipe the smile off your face.

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#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fiction #harry styles series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x famous!reader #harry styles x actress!reader #harry styles never have i ever

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typical-simplelove · 4 years ago

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Bragger (M. Barzal)

A/n: This is based of Kelsea Ballerini’s Bragger and a very self-indulgent fic. Enjoy!!

Warnings: Brief mentions of sex

Word Count: 5.3k (including song lyrics)

Italics are flashbacks

“So, Yn, tell us all about Mathew. What’s he like?” Candace, your maid of honor, asks.

You look at her puzzled. “What do you mean ‘what’s he like’?”

You were sitting at your bachelorette party; you didn’t want anything too big, so you decided on brunch with some of your friends, bridal party, and the WAGs.

“I mean, tell us all about him. How happy he makes you, how he drives you crazy but in the good way. Just brag about your fiance. Today is about you so whatever you want to share.

You smile just thinking about Mathew. Yeah, you could talk about him for days. His smile. The way his hair curls over his forehead. His arms. Dear Lord, don’t get started on his arms. You were about to start but remembered Liana, Mathew’s sister, was sitting with you as well. You didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. You also didn’t really want to brag about your relationship.

“Liana, are you okay with this? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you say. You and Liana have grown quite close during your relationship with Mathew and especially close after the proposal.

Liana just smiles. “Go ahead, bride-to-be. It is your bachelorette party. You go talk about the man you love.”

“Well, then. What do you want to know?” You say with a smirk on your face.

He's got the look, he's got the touch He's got the eyes that make me crush And he's not one to make a scene But he deserves the spotlight He ain't from 'round this side of town But he fits in to every crowd And he knows how to do my body and my heart right

Mathew Barzal. Where do you even begin? The start? The first time you kissed? The way he walks around your apartment without a shirt on because (a) he refuses to do so and (b) knows it gets you going? The beautiful eyes that make you want to melt the minute you look into them? Just the fact that he knows exactly what to do to make you weak in your knees? The fact that Mathew knows exactly what to do to make the heat rush to your face and make you flustered? The list goes on and on.

“Tell us about something he does that annoys you but you secretly love,” Tessa, your high school best friend, says. She knows exactly what you’re going to say. You have spilled this to her multiple times. However, the fact that she’s asking makes your heart grow warm, best friends forever, right?

You pretend to ruminate over what to say. You, once again, look at Liana for reassurance. You doubt she wants to hear about her brother walking around half-naked. She nods and signals you to continue. You take a deep breath; you never did like talking about yourself. “Um, well, he walks around our apartment without a shirt on all the time. Not even in the mornings after we wake up. He just refuses to ever wear a shirt.”

Some of the girls sigh. Grace, Anders’ wife, and Sydney, Matt’s wife, look at you with understanding. Hockey players really hate wearing shirts and love showing off their chests. Grace and Sydney know exactly what you’re talking about.

“He claims it’s because he knows he can get a rouse out of me, which he can, but it’s also because I don’t think he likes to wear a shirt.”

“Mathew is very proud of the way he looks,” Liana adds and you smile knowing that she knows what Mathew is like. “When he used to come home before dating you, mom had to remind him to put on a shirt.”

You laugh. “I try to tell him to put on a shirt but he always just,” you pause reminiscing the memory. “He’ll just,” you feel the rush of heat to your cheeks as you try to put the words together.

“Even without Mathew here, he’s got you flustered,” Grace says with a warm smile. She loves seeing two young people hopelessly in love.

You shake your head playfully but put on a large smile. “He’ll do this thing with his face and then kiss me in a way that knocks out my breath, and I just forget about him putting on a shirt.”

“He just gets away with not wearing a shirt? He just kisses you and that’s it?” one of your bridesmaids questions. She smirks. “My husband has to do more than just kiss me for me to forget he’s walking around without a shirt.”

“Well, no wonder you’re pregnant,” you playfully retort. She knows you’re joking, and she smiles back at you.

“You’ve got me there, ynn.” The group erupts into laughter.

“Well, then, if we’re on the topic of kissing. I’m not going to ask what happens behind the doors for your own privacy. But, what’s it like kissing Mathew?” Lila, another bridesmaid, asks.

You melt at the thought of kissing Mathew. A wide smile erupts across your face.

“Clearly he kisses tremendously well,” Liana says, and her response shocks you.

You look at her and glare at her playfully.

“I’m just making an observation. Just the thought of kissing my brother puts a giant smile on your face.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong there. I’m not sure if this is going to make sense but just here me out. When he kisses me, I never doubt he loves me. It doesn’t matter if it’s a small peck, a passionate kiss, or we’re making out. Sorry, Liana. There’s always love, and it’s almost as if it’s overflowing.”

“Oh, to be young and in love,” someone comments and everyone laughs.

“We do this thing where, assuming he’s not on a road trip, we always kiss each other good night, even if we’re angry. Yeah, I know the marriage advice. Don’t go to bed angry. Blah blah. Okay. But still. We’ll be angry and have yet to resolve the fight and just go to bed. We kiss each other goodnight angrily but the love is still there. I don’t doubt it. The way his lips linger on mine, and the gentleness despite being angry is there. I always go to bed knowing that we can sort out whatever problem we are having at the moment.”

“You guys are literally what I strive to have in a relationship,” Candace says. She wiggles her eyebrows as she says the next thing. “Any more kissing stories? Maybe some not so clean?”

You were taking a sip of your mimosa, and you choked on it. The heat immediately rushes to your face, and you know exactly what she wants. Just thinking about Mathew’s lips on anywhere else other than your lips has you turning to putty. You have to put down your glass for fears of dropping it and spilling it. These were nice glasses. You had them made that says ‘I Do Crew’, and you didn’t want to break them. Your reaction has everyone snickering.

“I hate to interject but if you’re going to talk about your sex life, I’m going to have to walk away,” Liana says. She can stomach talking about her brother kissing you but anything more than that was not something she was comfortable with.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m comfortable talking about that, especially this sober.”

“Well, then, we have to think of something else. Come on ladies, we can figure this out.” Candace says. You really didn’t like talking about yourself. You don’t want to brag because you know that not everyone can have what you have with Mathew.

I don't wanna be a bragger But my man's a heart attacker Like McConaughey and Jagger Hotter than a Saturday night I can't help it that I flaunt him (All the time) I understand why you would want him (I don't mind) And you can keep up all the chatter 'bout my happy ever after 'Cause all that really matters is he's mine

Candace is about to say something but is stopped when you get a phone call. You look at the caller ID and see that it’s Mathew.

“Speaking of the lover,” Candace says, and you glare at her. “Just answer the phone. We’ll use your reactions as a conversation point.”

You pick up the phone and instantly have a giant smile on your face as Mathew says “Hi, baby.” The girls around you hoot and holler at your grin.

“Hey,” you say back to him.

“Wow, it sounds like you’re in a hockey locker room. How’s it going? I just wanted to check on you. I’m about to head out for my event.” Tito is taking Mathew and his friends to go golfing and then a dinner tonight for Mathew’s Bachelor party.

“Yeah, it seems like that sometimes. We’re doing well. We ate already and might get some dessert in a bit.”

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Funny enough, you.”

You can’t see him but you know that there’s a giant smirk on his face. “Oh yeah? What about me are you talking about?”

“Nothing in particular. Just everything I love about you. The way you walk around the apartment without a shirt. The way you kiss.”

“Well, make sure you tell them about that thing I do with my lips that makes you moan my name in bed.” You instantly feel the heat rush to both your face and core remembering exactly what Mathew is talking about.

“We’ve established that I wasn’t going to talk about things like that and also your sister is here, so.”

“Well, I’ll let you go and also Tito is yelling at me to get going. I love you, future-Mrs.-Barzal.”

“I love you, too, future husband.” You hang up the phone with a giant smile on your face and the girls around you all smile. “What?”

Sydney smiles back at you. “The giant smile on your face. Mathew makes you really happy.”

Your smile, if possible, gets wider. “Yeah, he makes me really happy, and I love him more than anything.”

“It’s obvious,” Candace says. “Also, what did he say to tell us that we established we weren’t going to discuss?”

You feel your cheeks warm up again. You ignore Candace’s statement and turn to the chocolate-chip muffin on your plate.

“Oh come on, Ynn. Tell us.

“Um, Liana, I’m sorry you have to hear this,” you begin hesitantly. She just looks at you. “He told me to tell you guys about that thing he does in bed that um,” Liana nods for you to continue. “Makes me moan and yell his name.”

The girls just stare at you.

“I’m not going to, though. That’s, um, a rather private matter, and I feel the need to express that I am not going to elaborate.”

Liana smiles. “Hey, at least my brother knows how to make you feel good, right?”

You look at her and are surprised that she’s not completely disgusted with what you said.

“Don’t worry. I’m here as your friend not Mathew’s brother.”

“Yn, we want more, please tell us more!” another one of the girls at the table says to you. You really didn’t want to brag about your relationship with Mathew. It was strong, loving, healthy, and made you extremely happy. There was something about Mathew, however, that made you want to talk about him and put him on display.

You smile. “What do you want to know?”

I've got his nights, I've got his name There ain't no shame in this girl's game If he was yours, you'd do the same Without apologizing

The girls wanted a story from the first year in your relationship. What story to tell them? There were so many. You first thought instantly goes to the first time you ever wore his jersey and went to one of his games. You begin telling the story.

You and Mathew had been dating for almost seven months before he invited you to a game. He wanted to make sure that you weren’t with him for his money or fame, and you understood that. You never prompted him or forced him to insert yourself into his life. You let Mathew decide when he wanted to introduce to his friends and teammates. You were fully content on watching Mathew from your television on game nights.

However, one night, Mathew decided that he wanted to have you at the game. It was a home game against the Rangers, a rivalry that has a long history in New York. He bought you your tickets and told you that your seats weren’t with the other WAGs per your request. You didn’t want to sit with them quite yet until you were ready, and Mathew respected that. Also, he had yet to tell anyone on the team he was seeing anyone.

When you left for work the morning of the game, Mathew was still there. However, when you got home, he wasn’t but in his place was a jersey. Not just any jersey, however, it was Mathew’s jersey with his number and last name on it. You looked at it and smiled; you couldn’t wait to wear it for him.

About an hour later, you put on the jersey and head to the arena. When you’re seated, you finally realize how close up your seats are. You looked around and were so giddy. You were going to be watching your boyfriend, whom you were sure you were in love with, play the sport he absolutely loves.

You watched the boys come out for warm ups, and your heart swelled. He was in his element, and he looked so happy. You loved how effortlessly he made the sport look, and you loved how he interacted with his teammates. You were so caught up in watching him that you didn’t notice that Mathew was watching you. It took a few moments, but you did eventually realize, and you both laughed. You remember someone, who you now know was Anders, smacking Mathew over the shoulder.

The Islanders won that night in a overtime, and you were beyond elated. Mathew told you that he’d meet you at your car and that he did.

When you saw him, you jumped into his arms and held him tightly. “You played so well, baby.”

Mathew pulls away for a moment and looks down at you. “Yeah, well I had the woman I love in the stands and my new good luck charm.”

You pull back for a moment. Were you hearing this right? Did Mathew just tell you he loved you?

“Before you start overthinking everything and scrunch up your nose in that really adorable way, let me just confirm, yes, I do love you. Yn, I love you.”

“I wasn’t going to overthink anything, you’re wrong.”

Matthew laughs. “You know, you’re avoiding the obvious.”

You knew you were. “I thought I was pointing out the obvious.”

“Do you need me to say it again, yn?” Mathew asks.

You pretend to ponder it. “Yeah, I do, Mathew.”

“Yn, I love you.”

You smile. “I love you, too, Mathew.” You remember him leaning down and kissing you. You remember that you both had to eventually separate so that you could drive back to your place. You remember that night that you fell asleep in Mathew’s arms hopeful of what can happen one day.

“Oh yeah, I remember that,” Grace says. You look at her puzzled. “Anders, Tito, and I think Sydney and Matt were there, too. Anders said that Mathew was staring at a girl, so we all followed Mathew secretly, and we saw you guys.”

“That’s right! That did happen!” Sydney remarks.

“So, you weren’t really shocked when Mathew finally introduced me to all of you?”

“No, we really weren’t. We didn’t quite see your face, but we knew Mathew was seeing someone.” Sydney answers.

“We finally realized what was behind Mathew’s stellar playing. Anders once came home from a roadie saying that Mathew was playing extremely well and wasn’t sure what to correlate it to. Now we know, it was you.” Grace says.

Your smile reaches ear to ear.

“That’s so cute and romantic, you guys. The two of you were made for each other.” Candace dotes.

You smile. You didn’t want to brag but yes, you and Mathew were made for each other. Yes, sometimes it was hard, but you knew that at the end of the day, you and Mathew loved each other to pieces.

“Hmm. Tell us about meeting Mathew for the first time. That has to be a story.” Tessa. You smile at the memory.

You were running late. The uptown 4 train in Brooklyn was having a bunch of delays, and you didn’t have time to walk to the closest 5 train station. The 4 train heading uptown to Brooklyn Bridge finally came and you jumped on. You breathed a sigh of relief as the train rolled away from the station. However, you became aggravated when it stopped in the middle of the tunnel, and an announcement came that the train would be moving shortly. Yeah, you knew what that meant. You could either be moving again in two minutes or two hours.

Twenty minutes passed, and your feet were starting to ache. You really wished that you wore flats on your commute and then changed into your heels at work.

“Did you want to sit?” someone asked. You remember looking up. “Your feet look like they’re killing you, did you want to sit? I don’t mind standing.”

“Oh, um, no it’s okay, I’m good.” You remember saying.

“No, really, I insist,” he insisted.

You shake your head. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“So, then, if I stand up, you’re not going to sit down?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No, someone else can sit,” you remember saying. You weren’t one to take up offers like this out of respect for the other person, and you were also very stubborn.

He chuckles and sighs. “Can you just sit? I don’t know why you won’t take up the offer of my generosity. I just don’t think you’re really all that comfortable.”

You hesitate.

“What if,” he proposes. “I got up and said I wanted to stretch my legs, and you just took up the opportunity to sit?”

You look at him and are about to say something, but he gets up and mumbles something about needing to stretch his legs. He gives you a knowing look (one that you’ve grown to love). and you know you are going to sit. So, you sit. You breathe a sigh of relief, and he laughs softly.

“See, was that so hard?”

You look at him and grumble. “No.”

He laughs and time passes quickly. It only took thirty more minutes after this for the train to start moving. You exited the Brooklyn Bridge - City Hall station ninety minutes after you would have liked. You were fast walking because you had to catch the Uptown 3 train.

“Hey, wait,” you don’t think this person is talking to you, so you keep walking. He taps your shoulder, and you finally turn around. “I know this is weird, but can I get your number?”

You remember looking at him shocked and he laughed at you.

“I’m Mathew, and there’s something about you that I want to get to know better.”

For some reason, that cheesy line made you smile, and you gave him your number. And, as they say, the rest is history.

“Wait, Mathew took the subway?” Liana asks puzzled.

“Yeah, he said that he was running late for meeting Tito, and he thought taking the subway would be faster. Clearly, it wasn’t.” You explain.

“Oh, Yn, give us more stories about you and Matthew,” one of the girls says.

You smile softly. You really weren’t sure what else more to say. You really didn’t want to brag about your relationship with Mathew. The constant theme in your relationship was that you kept private things private. Mathew was private in the sense of the media, and you were just a private person all around. But, something about today and the girls asking made you want to spill literally everything.

“I’d ask about the proposal, but Mathew has shared that a million times,” Candace jokes. “Just give us a random story that makes you laugh or smile.”

“I can give you that,” you say. You ruminate for a moment and begin.

Matthew was spending the weekend with you because he didn’t have any games, and they just came off of a two week road trip. You guys missed each other, and, at the stage your relationship was at, being without each other for even an hour was unbearable. This was not to say, though, that it was easy to be apart now. Only, now, you both have learned to find a way to make that pain ease a bit.

It was 12:34pm on a Saturday, and you were hungry for lunch. Mathew said he was taking you out for his favorite sushi place and told you to eat a light lunch. So, you were going to make some avocado toast. No, nothing fancy. The basic summary was that you had pumpernickel bread and a ripe avocado that might go bad soon.

You retreat from the warmth of Mathew, the pillows, and blankets to make some toast. You didn’t hear Mathew follow you; you actually didn’t think he was going to considering you told him you’d just bring it to him. You put the bread in the toaster and pulled out a knife to cut the avocado. You waited for a few minutes as the bread toasted. You looked out into the living room but didn’t see Mathew. You figured that he went to the washroom.

The toaster dings, and the toast pops out. You put the toast on the plate and begin cutting the avocado to spread onto the toast. Suddenly, you feel two very strong arms snake around your waist. It’s Matthew, who else?

“You cut your avocado weirdly,” he says, and you just look at him.

What? “What?”

“You cut the avocado weirdly.”

You snicker. “What is a not weird way to cut your avocado?”

“I don’t know, I just know you cut it weirdly.”

“Why can’t it be that I cut it normally, and you cut it weirdly?”

“Because, yn, you need a weird thing.”

You giggle. “Why do I need a weird thing?”

“Because all people in a relationship have a weird thing that only the other person in it knows.”

“So, you’re telling me that my weird thing is that I cut avocados weirdly?”

“Mhm, exactly.” Mathew takes a piece of toast with avocado already on it and bites into it.

“Despite that, though, you still make very tasty avocado toast, babe.”

“Well, if my weird thing is about cutting avocado, what’s you weird thing?”

“I don’t know, you have to figure it out on your own.”

You remember smiling and then kissing his cheek. Dinner that night did not disappoint, and Mathew brought you to the right restaurant.

“Did you ever figure out what his weird thing was?” Sydney asks.

“I mean, no? But, like, the way I cut the avocado is not weird, so I’m not sure what he was getting at. I told him that the way he ties his shoes was weird.”

“Not the skates?” Grace asks.

“No, not the skates. I told him that there was a difference between the skates and the shoes.”

The girls laugh. “How did you do that? Isn’t it the same?” Candace asks. “It is, but he wouldn’t tell me why the avocado cutting was weird, so I did this. He took me to the rink the day after I told him and forced me to watch him tie his skates like ten times. I guess it’s what I deserve.”

“That was a cute story. As my future sister-in-law, I want to say, I’m glad Mathew has you in his life.” Liana says.

You smile. “I can drink to that.” You all clink your glasses and take a sip.

You loved these girls and were so glad that you got to celebrate your Bachelorette with them. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

If he were a wine, he'd be the shelf at the top (Top) If he were a house, he'd be the end of the block (Block) Walked up to my heart and went, "Knock, knock, knock" So I've got to show him off

You got home that day at 4:00 pm and before Mathew. You were expecting that; Tito told you that Mathew and the boys would be out later only because their day started later. You went into your bedroom and changed out of your bride-to-be outfit and into your comfortable clothes. You took off your makeup and put your hair in a comfortable style. You were going to use the time to open some of the invitations you’ve received and mark down their attendance and meal choices.

Constantly, though, your mind went straight to Mathew. Every thought you had went back to Mathew but not in a sophomoric, conceited way. In a way that expressed your true love for him and how you felt. You didn’t like talking about your relationship with Mathew often; you enjoyed the privacy, and it allowed you to grow as a person both in the relationship and outside it.

However, this didn’t mean that you didn’t want to talk about Mathew all the time. You knew that if you didn’t control yourself, you’d be one of those girls that brought up her boyfriend at the most random times. You also knew that those types of girls were annoying, so you tried not to be like that.

That didn’t mean you didn’t let your mind wander to those places. Mathew was amazing. Sure, there were some flaws, but the great things about him enormously outweighed the flaws. Mathew had the most beautiful hazel eyes you have ever seen. Even if you had friends who hazel eyes, their eye color didn’t match Mathew’s, nothing could. He could be doing the most mundane task or thing and you’d immediately fall more in love. No question about it.

Physically? Mathew had the body of a Greek god and that drove your crazy. When he constantly walked around with a shirt on? You had to force yourself not to jump up and kiss him or run your hands down his broad, firm chest. When you both sat on the couch and he didn’t have a shirt on, you absolutely adored just running your hand up and down his abs as if it were a pillow. Yeah, you wanted to shout from your balcony that you had a hot boyfriend, no, fiance now, that you loved. You loved running your fingers through his hair. There was softness that was indescribable. His hair was rough but also soft at the same time. You constantly wanted to be touching him. All the time. You just needed to be close to Mathew at all times. You didn’t want to say you were clingy because you weren’t. You were just in love and wanted to be in the presence with him at all times. You loved to tell Mathew that you felt so lucky that you got to even be in the same universe as him. He laughed and said the fact that he got to even get your number was remarkable to him.

You were both crazy about each other and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

I don't wanna be a bragger But my man's a heart attacker (Oh, he is) Like McConaughey and Jagger Hotter than a Saturday night I can't help it that I flaunt him (All the time) I understand why you would want him (I don't mind) And you can keep up all the chatter 'bout my happy ever after 'Cause all that really matters is he's mine

Mathew got home that night at 9:32.

“Oh, you’re home early,” you said, and he came down and sat next to you.

Mathew smirked. “Hiding me from your boyfriend?”

Your face turns warm. “No, I just thought that you’d want to celebrate the last of your bachelor years with the boys instead of at home with me.”

“I celebrated my bachelor years already; now I’m coming home and celebrating what my future holds.”

You smile. “Look at you, Mathew Barzal; don’t you know the way into a girl’s heart.”

“I only want your heart, babe,” Mathew says and then kisses you. “How was your day with the girls?”

“It was nice. Oh! Did you know that Anders, Matt, Tito, Grace, and Sydney knew we were dating before you began officially hinting at it and introduced me?”

“What?”

“Yeah! I was telling them about the first time I went to one of your games, and Grace said they caught on to you staring at a girl. She was saying that they followed you secretly and saw us.”

“That’s, wow. I’m not sure how to respond.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, now, does it? We are getting married.”

“That indeed we are, babe,” Mathew says as he reaches down and places a kiss on your temple. “So, what else did you talk about?”

“Wedding planning, you, other stuff, normal girl talk.”

“Did you just say ‘you’ as in me?”

You turn your head away bashfully. “Maybe.”

Mathew laughs his deep belly laugh. “What did you guys say? I mean, I know you were talking about me, but I didn’t think it was a lot.”

“They just wanted me to brag about you and everything. I told them about the story of when we first met, the avocado thing, how you don’t walk around with a shirt, the first time I went to one of your games.”

“Oh, speaking of,” Mathew takes off his shirt, and you laugh. Of course.

“They just wanted me to brag about my love and relationship with you.”

“You should, as bride-to-be.”

“How was your day?” you ask.

“Pretty good; it was fun, but I missed you.”

“Yeah, I missed you, too.”

“It’s funny, we can go a long time without seeing one another when I’m on the road. Don’t get me wrong, it’s quite unbearable but this honestly felt worse.”

“My take is that because we both know that we’re in the same city and can be with each other in probably under an hour. However, when you’re on the road, it’s less hard because you know that you have to be there.”

“Look at you, my intellectual fiance. Our children better get all your traits.”

“I think they should get your looks.”

“I don’t think so; no no.”

“I’m not arguing with you on this. How about a good mix?”

“Perfect, babe.” Mathew kisses you. “Do you want to go to bed? Maybe I can do that thing to you I was referencing earlier?”

The heat instantly rushes to your face, and Mathew instantly knows he’s got you in the palm of his hands. The way your eyes bulged out and swallowed deeply, Mathew just knew.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” he picks you up and carries you to bed.

Yeah, you didn’t want to brag about your relationship with Mathew, but he was too amazing not to.

Taglist: @goalision @coffee-ontherocks @glassdanse @barzal-burakovsky @petey-patty @beauvibaby @boqvistsbabe @rmaye @heatherawoowoo @heaveniish @stars-canucks @tkapuckit @mellany1997 @nhlboyshavemyhart88 @heybarzy @2manytabsopen @habsfan @besthockeyfics @plds2000 @kaitieskidmore1 @iwantahockeyhimbo @sidscrosbyy (Join my taglist here!)

#mathew barzal #mathew barzal imagine #mathew barzal fic #mathew barzal x reader #nhl fic #nhl writing #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal fic #new york islanders imagine #new york islanders x reader #claudia writes

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dreamsister81 · 3 years ago

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Jeff toured the world for 1994 and 1995 in support of Grace. I read reviews that breathlessly described his vocal gymnastics and wondered if he was going to make it to Australia, or bypass it like so many other baby bands do. It costs so much money to get there that it’s hard to justify the journey.

I finally heard that he was coming to play a series of small Sydney and Melbourne shows in August 1995. At the time I was shooting a lot for Who Weekly, a sister magazine to People magazine in the USA. About a week before Jeff was due to play I was delivering some pictures to Who Weekly and got into a conversation with the Picture Editor, Stephanie Strange. I asked her if they were planning to do anything with Jeff whilst he was in town. To my surprise she told me they’d just booked a photographer to do a shoot with him.

This was the first time in 25 years of working as a photographer that I was absolutely determined that I wanted that shoot. So I told Stephanie she had to let me do it. It didn't matter that somebody else was booked, I had to do the shoot. I was lucky that we'd been working together for a couple of years and knew each other well enough by that point as she laughed and said she'd see what could be done.

Even though I was one their main freelancers at that time, I didn’t really think she’d change the photographer so started calling around some of the other magazines to see if I could shoot Jeff for someone else.

I was getting nowhere as everybody had already booked their photographers, when to my amazement Stephanie called me the next day and told me that she’d dumped the other photographer and I was doing the shoot with Jeff. I was over the moon.

And so on the afternoon of Wednesday 30th August 1995, I made my way to the Ritz Carlton in Double Bay, which is known by Sydneysiders as Double Pay because it’s the seriously rich part of town and everything costs twice as much. That particular hotel also happens to be where Michael Hutchence from INXS subsequently died two years later. But I think that was in a different room.

I was shown into Jeff’s suite by his road manager, Gene Bowen. Jeff appeared tired but was sweet and accommodating. He’d played a show at The Metro two days earlier, but I suspect the jet lag was getting to him. When I mentioned that I’d listened to his dad a lot it seemed like it was something he was tired of hearing. Which was fair enough, so I didn’t pursue that line of conversation any further. What nobody realized at that time of course was that his influence has far surpassed the impact his father had.

I was surprised to see he was wearing a pink Take That T-shirt as they were not the kind of band I would imagine he’d listen to, but I didn’t comment on it. He’d already done the interview, so we went out on the balcony and I started to shoot some pictures with him.

The brief was to get color pictures to go with the article Who Weekly were going to publish. Magazines always need more than one background / set up as they need a picture to lead with and also a separate image to go within the story, so after shooting on the balcony I also took Jeff back into the hotel room and did some more pictures with him in the hotel room.

Even though I knew the magazine wouldn’t run them, I also decided to shoot some black and white pictures for myself. Which I am now deeply grateful for that foresight as the image at the top of this story came from those pictures.

AND Who Weekly managed to lose all my color pictures when they ran a big story about him after he died. The very cool Stephanie had left by then and I can’t remember the name of the dumb photo editor who’d replaced her, but she had the hide to offer me $500 compensation for the loss of 30 original transparencies. We settled for something above that but less than they were actually worth.

I didn’t hang around after the shoot as Jeff had more interviews to do, but I arranged with Gene to go see the show and shoot some live shots of Jeff at the Phoenician Club when he got back from Melbourne a few days later.-words and 📷 by Andrzej Liguz via moreimages.net: May 29, 2013

#jeff buckley #mylove #supremebeing #favorite #music

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krreader · 5 years ago

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aurora.

pairing: kim taehyung x reader ; jeon jeongguk x reader ; jeon jeongguk x iu fandom: bts ; solo artists (iu) warnings: language genre: angst ; fluff word count: 6k+

summary: dawn comes after the darkness, and with it the promise that what has been torn by the sea is not lost. - lisa wingate

a/n: you read that right. 6k. this escalated so hard. but anyways, let me say the biggest fucking thank you to my lovely friend @belovedcherry who actually commissioned this and was kind enough to let me post it. I am beyond grateful for you, seriously. I truly hope this is everything you wanted and more and thank you again for being such an amazing person. I love you, boo ♥

“What are you doing? It's too early,” you turned around when Jeongguk opened the curtains, the sunlight hurting your eyes this early in the morning, so you tried to squeeze them together tighter.

He started chuckling and jumped back into bed, wrapping an arm around your middle and pulling you against his naked chest, “It's 11 AM, (Y/N).”

“Too early,” you whined, but started giggling when he began to kiss your shoulder, then neck. His hand rested on your hip, but slowly traveled up until he could hold your hand.

His thumb brushed over the back of it, then over the diamond ring that he put on your finger only last night. Then, you finally opened your eyes, smiling at the memory of the simple, yet beautiful proposal over dinner. The most wonderful things he had said last night, about you, your future..

“I still can't believe it,” you whispered.

“Believe it. Believe that you're going to be the lucky Mrs. Jeon (Y/N) soon,” he chuckled into the nape of your neck and pulled you yet again closer, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

“I really am the luckiest woman alive.”

It was a memory that used to give you joy, of course. How couldn’t it? A proposal was supposed to bring happy memories with it.

But it seemed as if everything went downhill from there on. Thinking back on it, that was the last good memory that you had of your time together.. of him. And if you could.. you’d gladly erase it from your mind, just so you’d finally stop your heart from hurting so much and the tears from flooding.

But how could you have possibly known? After four years, you obviously had trusted him blindly and believed everything he told you. Every promise and every 'I love you' was a genuine one, you didn’t even question it once.

So how could a person that promised you the world, throw you away like garbage in less than five seconds, when you were ready to give up everything for them? How could the person that promised you their name replace you so easily and give it to someone else only five months after your broken engagement?

Like it meant nothing.. like you meant nothing.

“I don't.. I don't understand,” everything was.. fine. Everything was perfect, this made no sense, why was he saying these things? Why was he suddenly talking about IU again when he hadn’t mentioned her name in years?

Was this because.. she broke up with her boyfriend?

“I'm truly sorry, (Y/N).”

“You're.. sorry?” you got up from the couch, your eyebrows furrowed, “You're telling me you're sorry? Sorry for what? Sorry that you want to throw away everything you and I built for the last years for the chance of being with someone else? You're replacing me for the slight possible of being with.. someone else?”

Being broken up with was a horrible feeling in itself. But the reason for it being that he wanted to replace you.. now that was something that would leave you scarred forever.

Jeongguk tried to look at you, but he failed miserably.

He felt mad at himself and so utterly ashamed, but it's what his heart wanted.. it's what it always wanted. So he couldn't pass up the chance of finally being with her now that he got it.

“She already approached me, (Y/N).”

“So you already cheated on me,” it wasn't a question. It was a statement.

“No!” he quickly yelled out, “No, we didn't, we only.. we agreed to meet.”

“You fucking asshole,” you let out a humorless laugh, your head shaking, “You fucking asshole,” you repeated, but this time you screamed at him, pulling the engagement ring off your finger and throwing it at him.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated, his voice barely audible.

Jeongguk and you used to be so happy that even the thought of you eventually breaking up with each other was not something you could have ever seen happening. He was your soulmate, your best friend, your ride or die. He was the one who was always there even when he was far away, the one who you saw as the father of your children.. well.. that one turned out to be kind of true.. but only kind of.

“Miss?” you jumped a little when the lady working at the airport stood in front of you with an unsure smile, but quickly put on a smile as well to show her that you were ready to listen now that she already ripped you out of your thoughts, “I'm really sorry, but there's no seat left in the front row, all passengers that sit there paid extra already.”

“Ah, I see.. thank you for trying anyways.”

The only reason why you wanted that seat was that you would have liked to stretch out your legs a little more. Ever since your pregnancy began you were having trouble with your legs swelling, something completely normal, but on such a long flight you would have appreciated it if you have had the chance to stretch a little bit.

Your hands rested on your belly, a sigh escaping your lips, “I hope you'll be more comfortable than mommy, little bean.”

This wasn't the life you had wanted for your child.

You had wanted your child to have a happy family once it was born, a happy father and mother who were more than excited to finally be able to hold him or her in their arms. But what would they get instead? A scared and lonely shell of a person who was struggling mentally and financially..

But no matter the financial problems that you had, you couldn't stay in Seoul.

Not with their pictures being plastered everywhere you went. Not with the ‘Congratulations on your marriage!’ slogans in every subway station.

“Flight L730 to Sydney is now ready to depart. We ask our passengers sitting in first class, as well as our gold star members and senators to..-” the lady started to announce. Most people had been lining up for a while already, so you decided that you'd get up and get in line as well, especially because it wasn’t as easy for you anymore to just get up and walk somewhere, despite you only being five months pregnant now.

You were minding your own business, when two girls in front of you started talking about a subject that you really had enough of hearing about.

“Did you see their wedding picture? IU looks breathtaking, don't you think?”

Your jaw began to clench, your eyes slowly looking up and seeing the picture that one was showing the other through the gap of their shoulders.

“I'm so happy for them. He's tried so long, I'm glad he finally got his happy ending with the woman he loves.”

They didn't know.

They couldn't know.

You weren't even allowed to be angry at them, because they were oblivious to what had been going on behind closed doors. No one had known about you. Four years he had kept you a secret. Fuck, even Bangtan didn't know you existed for the first two and a half years. And even after that you rarely saw them. Jeongguk never told you the reason as to why he didn't like you being around them, but you had been alright with it. You weren't dating him for his group, after all.

Still.. you often wondered what people would think of Jeongguk if they knew the truth.

If they knew how he had handled the entire situation.. especially in regards to the baby.

“(Y/N).. you need to stop calling me,” he let out a heavy sigh, his fingers massaging his temples.

“You need to listen to me,” you let out a sob, the pregnancy test between your fingers shaking due to your trembling hand.

This just made everything ten times worse.

A broken heart was one thing, but a baby.. fuck. This complicated matters.

“No, I don't,” Jeongguk looked to the sleeping IU to his right, then pushed the covers away and walked into the living room so he wouldn't wake her up, “I've apologized enough, I can't do much else than that. You need to accept it, as hard as that might be. I truly am sorry.”

“Jeongguk, I..-”

“No. We're done,” he said a bit more sternly now, “Goodbye, (Y/N).”

You had sent him countless of messages afterwards in which you told him about the baby, but the messages were never opened or read. After a while and after a few more calls that never went through, you realized that he probably blocked your number.

And that was that.

Because you didn't have any other way of contacting him.

He had moved out of your shared apartment after the break-up and you didn't know where he lived now. You also didn't have phone numbers of any of his band members.. you had no way to tell him that he'd be a father soon.

But now, after five months and the wedding picture that you saw on the phone of this girl, you once again realized that even if he knew, he probably wouldn't even care..

..because it wouldn't be her baby.

Just like you didn’t matter anymore, because you weren’t her.

“Flight L730 to Sydney is now ready to board for all passengers. Please take out your passport and flight ticket for us to scan and we hope you enjoy your trip.”

Your hand once again rested on your belly, your thumb gently brushing over it.

This was it.. you'd finally leave that part of your life behind that once brought you so much happiness but had left you with a shattered heart.

It was for the best.. maybe you'd even find your happy ending there.. someday.

three years later

“I love Sydney,” Jimin sighed happily, leaning back in his seat and enjoying the sun shining into his face.

“You say that about every country we tour in,” Taehyung chuckled and wiped his mouth with a napkin, “But I agree.. it's beautiful. Especially the architecture.”

“If you end up talking about architecture again for an hour straight, I'm going to leave,” Jimin warned, but with a smile.

“I mean, come on, how could I not? It's such a beautiful mixture of old and new architecture, forming something so unique and special that..- hey! Come on!”

But Jimin stayed true to his word and actually got up, “No, I'm sorry, I can't listen to another one hour ramble about some architect that’s already been dead for years, I already did that in New York and London. You pay, I'll be back at the hotel.”

Taehyung let out a disappointed sigh. He should have simply asked Namjoon hyung to go to lunch with him. At least he would have listened.

“Uh, sorry? Pay?” he asked when a waitress passed by, then quickly looked down to pull out his wallet from his pockets.

“I hope the food tasted good?”

“Ah, very good!” and when he turned around to look at you with his boxy smile, both you and him instantly froze.

You recognized each other within a second, despite you not having seen each other in years, and even then, only briefly.

He knew who you were and you obviously knew who he was, not just because of the fact that his face was plastered all over town because of their upcoming concert, but also because of your history. Your history, that you successfully managed to forget about.. or at least.. that's what you wanted to believe.

“You..- (Y/N)? What the hell are you doing here?” he instantly switched back to speaking Korean, his smile reappearing on his face. He even got up and hugged you tightly, despite you and him never having been that close to each other.

But maybe he was just happy to see a familiar face in a foreign country.

You just stood there stiff as a tree, feeling very uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“Man, it's so nice to see you again! It's been.. what? Three years? How have you been? What's new?”

You couldn't have this conversation.

Not here and not now, because you couldn’t predict your emotions.

You hadn’t talked about what had happened to anyone ever since you left and you didn’t want to do that now after you successfully locked that part away and threw away the key.

“Do you want to pay with cash or card?”

Taehyung was taken aback, but the surprise of meeting you so suddenly made him completely forget about the reason why you left in the first place.

Maybe seeing him didn't bring back the best of memories.

“Card, please.”

He took that moment that you walked away to get the machine for his card to gather his thoughts and really think about what he'd say next. He didn't want to overstep any boundaries, or more than he already had.

And so when you were back and inserted the card, he said, “I never got to say that I was sorry about everything that happened between you and Jeongguk, but..-”

“Don't,” you whispered, your eyes firmly on the machine.

“What?”

“Don't pity me,” you handed him the machine, “I don't want pity.”

He gulped down hard. He hadn't said one good thing to you, apparently. And he felt bad about that. So he quickly typed in his PIN, but before he handed you back the machine, he said: “When are you done here? Do you.. want to go grab a coffee? Talk about.. something? Not.. him. Just catch up?”

“I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Please, (Y/N). You live here now, right? So maybe.. you could show me around a bit? I only have today off, so I'd love to see some secret spots that only the locals know about,” he grinned.

“I'm not your tourist guide,” you said bitterly and handed him the receipt, already wanting to leave again.

“I know you're not,” he got up and wrapped his hand around your wrist, quickly letting it go again when he saw the way you looked at his hand, “I want to know how you are. I truly do.”

It was the sincerity in his eyes that made you actually think about it. A part of you told you not to fall for it, that he was just like Jeongguk and that you'd get nothing good out of having an actual conversation with him, even if you'd never see each other again after today. But you had always liked Taehyung those very few times that you saw him. He always treated you well, respected you and took good care of you when you were out together for dinner.

So because of old time's sake, you said: “I get off in two hours. So 5PM sharp,” and with that you turned around and walked back into the restaurant, leaving a smiling Taehyung behind.

“Hyung!” Jeongguk ran after Taehyung when he wanted to get into the elevator, “I've been looking for you! Do you want to go out? Do something?”

Should he tell him? Probably not.. not even for his sake, because Taehyung knew that he didn't care, but for your sake. You probably wouldn't want him to know that you were here.

“I already have plans, sorry.”

“Huh? With whom?”

“See you tonight for dinner!” Taehyung pressed the button and watched Jeongguk's eyebrows draw together in confusion when the elevator doors closed.

He was a little early when he arrived back at the restaurant, so he just stood outside and watched you work for a while.

You were still pretty.. he always thought you were beautiful, but the Australian sun illuminating your skin and smile.. it suit you. Taehyung could never quite understand Jeongguk on why he rather wanted IU than you. If anyone were to ask his opinion on the matter, he immediately would have chosen you to be prettier than her. But maybe that’s just personal preference..

“You should just ask her out, mate,” a guy nudged his side, making Taehyung jump a little.

“Sorry?”

“(Y/N). She's single. Actually, would do her good to have someone by her side,” he only understood half of what he was saying, especially because of the accent, but this guy seemed to know you. When he walked into the restaurant he realized that he must be your co-worker since the two of you started talking casually.

It was only when you approached Taehyung after you got off that you confirmed it, “My co-worker thinks you have a crush on me.”

“I just.. I wasn't.. I was just..-”

“Relax,” you chuckled, “I told him you're an old friend,” you shouldered your bag, “What did he tell you?”

“Honestly? I don't know. The accent was a bit.. much.”

“Yeah,” that made you laugh as you two started to walk away from the restaurant together, “It takes a little time to get used to it. But people are nice here, you know?”

“So you're happy?”

You didn't answer right away, really thought about your words, “I'm.. okay. It's easier here than it was in Seoul. And it's getting better every day, you know?”

Taehyung nodded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, “I thought about you a lot, actually. About whether or not you were doing okay. Some of us thought about contacting you, but we didn't know how.. and.. well, we didn't know whether or not we should get involved.”

“I'm glad you didn't,” you admitted, “I needed space and.. time. I needed to be alone to really cut that part of me off, as hard as that sounds.”

“No, I understand,” he nodded, “Still.. it can’t have been easy, moving here all on your own..”

“I wasn't alone.. not really.”

“Oh? Then you..-?”

Taehyung must have thought about a man, a boyfriend maybe. A past one, since that co-worker mentioned you were now single.

But that's.. not really what you have had in mind.

Before Taehyung even knew it, you had led him to a child care center. Only a few children were out playing at this time, since it was already rather late.

He was confused for a moment, thought you might just wanted to pass by, but.. you walked in.

And he followed.

“MOMMY!” a little girl, not older than three, ran into your arms with her black pigtails, you picking her up and spinning her around.

“Ah, I missed you so much,” you showered her face with kisses, loving the giggling sounds she made, “Did you have fun today?”

“Yeeeeah! We made a lot of drawings! I’ll show you!”

“Okay,” you gently put her back down with a smile, “Then hurry, get your bag and paintings. I'll wait here for you.”

She ran back inside, past the child care worker who waved at you to greet you.

For a moment you had completely forgotten that Taehyung was even there, only when he spoke did you remember, “Oh my god..”

“I told you not to pity me.”

“I'm.. not, I'm just..- does he know?! He never said anything?! Oh my god, he knew and didn’t say anything? Or did you never tell him? I don’t..-” his eyes were wide, plainly speaking what he was thinking. Which.. didn’t make much sense.

“I tried telling him, but he blocked my number. He was.. too busy,” you shrugged, “I don't care anymore, Taehyung. I made a promise to myself when I gave birth to her that I won't let him ruin my life any more than he already had. I got two jobs to provide for my girl, I got us an apartment that is big enough for the both of us and I'm doing the best I can to give her everything she needs and wants. I don't need him anymore and I will never need him again.”

He was.. glad to hear that, really. He was actually even a little proud that you got your shit together like this, but it still pained him that Jeongguk would do this to you. To him, it almost felt like he was a little bit responsible, even though that was bullshit.

Taehyung couldn’t have changed any of this, Jeongguk was his own person and you knew that.

So you didn’t hold a grudge against him or any of the other members. This wasn’t their fault.

When your daughter ran back out she finally saw Taehyung for the first time. He thought she may be shy, but not at all. She actually extended her hand to him, “I'm Zoe.”

“Zoe, my friend Taehyung is Korean.. can you introduce yourself in Korean?”

Her eyes widened, even beamed a little and Taehyung couldn't help but grin and kneel down when the little girl bowed and introduced herself in Korean.

“Wow! You speak Korean?”

“Mommy taught me!”

“Your mommy is a very smart woman.”

“The smartest,” the little girl giggled and leaned against your leg.

“Oh wow.. did you paint these?” Taehyung pointed at her pictures and your little girl instantly showed him with a proud smile, “These are.. amazing!”

“Mommy he likes them! Did you hear? He likes them!”

“I heard,” you grinned and picked her up, brushing down the skirt of her dress, “Let's go home, though. You need to eat something and so does mommy.”

Taehyung didn't move when you walked up ahead, he didn't think you'd want him to come, but..-

“Hey.. you coming or what?” you smiled at him and even Zoe waved him over, “Come on, Taehyungie!”

"We need to talk about honorifics, I think,” he chuckled.

Taehyung remembered the old apartment you used to live at with Jeongguk. It had been luxurious and big, too big for two people actually.

Your apartment now was a lot more cozier.

It was a one bedroom apartment, small, but still nice. It felt.. like home. Like what he always wanted to experience when he was a teenager and thought about moving in with his girlfriend eventually.

“Look,” Zoe struggled to climb up on the couch, her tongue sticking out in concentration, but once she sat next to Taehyung, she proudly showed him all her favorite paintings that she made, “This is mommy and this is me.”

“Wow.. your mommy looks so beautiful here. And you look so cute!”

“My mommy is the beautifulest person on the planet,” she proudly said.

Taehyung raised his head and watched you make dinner in the kitchen. You had put up your hair, but some strands kept falling into your face. He watched with a smile as you pushed them back again and again, letting out more than one annoyed sigh because of it.

“She really is,” he whispered.

Zoe might only be three years old, but kids were a lot smarter than adults gave them credit for.

She looked the same direction that he looked at, then looked back at him, “Do you like my mommy?”

“Huh? Oh, I..- well, your mommy is an old friend, you know?”

She was quiet for a moment, then she asked, “Are you.. my daddy?”

Oh god.., “I'm.. uhm.. just a friend, sweetheart.”

“Oh..-” her shoulder slumped in disappointment, then she pulled out a paper from the very bottom and showed him. It was of her, you and a man.. but the man didn't have a face, “I don't have a daddy, you know? All of my friends do.. but I don't.”

It broke his heart.

It absolutely shattered it, actually.

And he wanted to punch the living shit out of Jeongguk and that had never been an emotion he felt before.

“But you have your mommy.. and she loves you so much,” Taehyung tried to console her.

“I know,” she nodded, slowly beginning to smile again, “I love her most.”

“Okay,” you walked into the living room and put two plates down in front of Taehyung and Zoe, “I'm sorry, love, I didn't have time to go grocery shopping today. I hope this is okay..”

“PASTA!” she screamed in excitement and sat down on the floor, “Thank you, mommy!”

You gently brushed through her hair, then handed Taehyung a fork, “I know, not what you're used to, but I hope you like it nevertheless.”

“It's perfect,” you stared at each other for a moment, you being the first to break the eye contact when your daughter started to tell you about her day.

But you still caught yourself staring at him more than once throughout the dinner.

Maybe it was the way he talked to Zoe that made you feel this way, the way that Zoe looked at him.. or maybe it was just that you've been so lonely for so long that it was nice to finally have someone like him here again. Someone from your past? Someone that you once liked and got along with? Or just.. anyone older than your daughter?

Maybe.. maybe it was the fact that it was him.

And you knew that was stupid.

Because what the fuck did you think was going to happen?

He was still a BTS member, he was currently on world tour and he'd leave in what.. two days again? Getting attached was a stupid thing to do and you were not stupid.

Not anymore.

“You need help?” Taehyung peaked his head into the kitchen after dinner to see if you needed help with the dishes.

“I'm good, thank you,” you smiled at him from over your shoulder.

“Mommy, can you read me my bedtime story?”

Zoe squeezed past Taehyung to stand in the kitchen, already in her pajamas.

“Can you give me ten more minutes?”

“I.. can do it. If you.. want to and if that's okay with you?” Taehyung looked at you to await your approval, but it seemed like Zoe decided before you could.

“YES!” she jumped up and down and pulled him with her into your bedroom.

It seemed like you shared your bedroom with your daughter. There was only one bed here, so he assumed you and her slept in one bed.

And he was correct.

She tried her hardest to climb up onto the bed like she had tried with the couch earlier, but she had no chance with the bed, it was simply too high for her.

Taehyung grinned and gently lifted her up, then sat down next to her, “This is my side,” she proudly said as she got under the covers, “Mommy sleeps there.”

“That's so cool!”

“Mommy says that once we have enough money to move, I get my own bedroom!” she squealed in excitement.

And once again, Taehyung's heart started to hurt.

Jeongguk had so much money.. and you were here sharing a bed with your daughter because you could barely afford this apartment. How was this fair?

News flash. It wasn’t.

None of this was.

And that was Jeongguk’s fault right from the start. But it was only now that he realized just how much of his fault it all was.

Nevertheless, he didn't want to show his emotions to the little girl.

Instead, he read her the bedtime story that she wanted to hear, doing his best to deliver it in a way that children would find entertaining.

Only that.. she really didn't care about the story. At least not when he was much more interesting.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, love,” he closed the book but kept his finger in it, in case she wanted to hear more of the story later on.

“Do you know who my daddy is?”

Oh god.. what should he do? Lie to her?

Yes. Absolutely. You had your reasons for not telling her about Jeongguk, he would not be the one to tell her about him if you hadn't so far.

“I don't.”

And once again, her shoulder slumped.

“I think about him sometimes.. maybe he hates me, so that's why he left mommy..”

“No,” Taehyung immediately shook his head, “Don't think like this. You are a wonderful girl. You're beautiful, you're smart and,” he picked up one of her paintings from the night stand, “So talented. Whoever your dad is, wherever he is, he’s an idiot for not seeing that.”

She giggled, “You said a bad word.”

“Don't tell your mommy, okay? I’m scared she won’t like me anymore if she finds out.”

“I promise,” she giggled, then quickly pushed the covers away and cuddled against his chest, closing her eyes for a moment, “I hope you visit us more often. I really like you..”

Taehyung slowly wrapped his arms around the little girl, but he didn't say anything. Because he didn't want to make her a promise that he couldn't keep.

It took five more minutes for him to come out of the bedroom, smiling at you when he saw you leaning against the wall opposite of the bedroom.

“She's a cute girl,” he whispered.

“Yeah.. I got really lucky.”

Taehyung completely forgot that he had dinner plans with the rest of the boys and his managers tonight. He hadn't checked his phone for hours and wasn't planning on doing it now as you and him sat in front of the couch with glasses of wine in your hands.

“I don't ever really bring men over.. so this is all new for her.”

“What.. no sexual adventures?”

“I know this might be hard to believe, but it’s not exactly easy to do that when you have a toddler sleeping in the same bed as you,” you both chuckled.

It was quiet for a moment, you staring into your glass, when he asked: “She seems to be thinking about her father a lot.”

“It's hard for her to understand why everyone else has one and only she doesn't,” you took a sip from your wine, “But I can't bring myself to tell her the truth. Not now. She wouldn't understand anyways. So I just don't tell her at all.”

Taehyung didn't say anything.

And you noticed that.

“You disapprove.”

“It's not my place to have an opinion on this, (Y/N). This is your child and your child only.”

You liked that. That he didn't acknowledge Jeongguk's role in this, because that's what it was to you now. He was only the one who made her, but he had no place in her life.

Still.. you thought about him every now and then.

And it's been three years.

You were over it.

“How is he?”

“No, I'm not talking about him,” he shook his head.

“I'm okay, Taehyung.”

“I don't care. He doesn't deserve for you to even so much as think about him.”

“He's still your best friend, just because of what happened between him and me doesn't mean that you have to hate him too.”

“I didn't hate him. Not before. But..-” Taehyung gulped down hard, “If I have had the chance to have a girl as beautiful as Zoe as my daughter.. I'd be the happiest man alive, (Y/N). And he..-”

“He doesn’t know and I stopped blaming him a long time ago. I realized that I’m a much happier person if I don’t focus on what went wrong in my life and just appreciate what went right. I used to hate him, but at the same time, I am so grateful that he gave me Zoe. She’s everything to me.”

“Still, I'm sorry for what he did to you. And there is no way that I can.. undo what he's done.. but maybe I could.. I don't know.. come by every once in a while?”

“Sydney isn't Busan, Taehyung. You can't just get in the car and be there in two hours.”

“BigHit is giving us more breaks nowadays and.. we're thinking about a hiatus anyways. Nothing is set in stone, but we all need a break. Maybe one year, maybe two, maybe more, maybe forever,” he then realized what he just told you and his eyes quickly widened, “But.. don't tell anyone about that. That's actually top secret and I shouldn't have told you about it.”

You chuckled and nodded, “I won't tell. Promise.”

“So.. what do you say? Would you like that?”

Your smile slowly faded, then you shook your head a little as your eyes fell onto the picture of you and Zoe together, “I trusted Jeongguk with my entire being and he broke me for having done that. I can't be this naive again. Not when I have Zoe. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, I understand you. But I’m going to prove it to you.. that I’m not him,” he made a promise to himself that night. Jeongguk might have abandoned you, but he wouldn't. He had let you go so easily back then, but he couldn't again, not after all this.

You didn't say anything. You just continued drinking your wine with him in silence.

Nothing happened this night.

You just talked about his life, about your life, catching up like old friends. And it really felt like that's what you were, despite you not having talked a lot back in the day.

Taehyung completely forgot the time and boy, everyone was so mad at him for coming back so late. They thought something might have happened.

And that was true.

Something did happen.

He had made a decision and a promise on where he'd be five years from now.

And he kept that promise.

five years later

A hiatus that already lasted almost two years, but they needed that time.

Bangtan was drained and they all needed a break.

However, they all went their separate ways, all doing things they were passionate about. But not with each other.

Jeongguk, who had just signed his divorce papers after his marriage with IU had slowly but surely been falling apart for the last three years, was incredibly lost. Normally, he'd just spend time with his hyungs and they'd pick him up again like they always did, but with the way they were all scattered around the globe, that wasn't so easy anymore.

He ended up taking a flight to Sydney.

Him and Taehyung weren't as close as they once were and he never found out the reason for why that was, but he could really use the one that he once called his actual brother.

Maybe this would even bring them closer together again.

Taehyung had once told them the address he'd be staying at while he'd be in Sydney for emergencies, so that's where he was going now.

A.. surprise visit.

Only that when he got out of the car, he didn't see Taehyung, but someone he had only recently been starting to think about a lot again.

And what a surprise it was indeed.. but for him.

“Why are you so bad at admitting it?” you laughed happily as you got out of the car, Jeongguk staring at the girl, not older than eight, who looked.. exactly.. like him, “I know you like him.”

“Mom, stop it,” the girl giggled, “I don't like him, boys are disgusting.”

“You're such a bad liar.”

The girl sprinted into the apartment building, while you walked to the trunk of the car to get the groceries out.

He just stood there in shock, watched you unpack everything, not being able to move or say anything.

But it was as if you knew.

Knew, that someone was staring and watching you.

You stopped moving momentarily, then you turned around and looked around until your eyes fell on him. The man you hadn't thought about in five years. Because you really had no reason to anymore.

He didn't look good. He looked like he hadn't slept in ages and the man you once thought to be a god now looked so mortal and human.

He reminded you of you when you first came here, actually.

Both of you stared at each other for a very long time, before he was the first to approach you.

“You're.. here..?”

“I think the better question would be why are you?” your voice was so strong compared to his.

“I.. well, Taehyung.. hyung, he gave me..-”

“Mom, can you hurry..-” Zoe stopped when she saw you talk to a man, “Oh.. sorry.”

And you could tell that he knew instantly.

Maybe it was the age or the fact that she looked just like him. Probably the latter.

“Hi,” he managed to say in a high-pitched voice.

“Uh, hey,” she furrowed her eyebrows, “Should.. I get.. dad?”

“Dad?” Jeongguk looked at you in confusion.

“It's fine, love. Just wait upstairs. I'll be right there.”

She left, even though she seemed unsure of whether or not she should leave you alone with this guy. He seemed.. weird.

“Dad?” he repeated, “She..-”

“I tried telling you, Jeongguk. I called, I texted, I did everything I could. But you were too busy chasing after your happy ending that, from the looks of it, didn't work out in the end.”

“Who is dad?!” he asked once again.

“That's none of your business. It's not you, that's all that matters.”

“But I am! I am her father! You just said it, she’s my kid!”

You let out a laugh, “No. You really aren't. You might have been the sperm donor, but that’s all you are.”

You wanted to walk past him, but he quickly grabbed your arm, “(Y/N), wait..-”

“No, I know what you're going to say. You're going to apologize to me and you're going to tell me that you made the biggest mistake of your life. You're going to tell me that IU wasn't the one for you after all and you're going to ask me to forgive you, maybe even for the sake of my daughter. Is that about right?” when he didn't answer, you knew you were on the right track, “So let me tell you right upfront, Jeon Jeongguk. The times of me crying over what could have been are over. Because for the first time in over five years, I am finally happy. Completely and utterly happy. And I'm not like you. I'm not going to throw away my happiness like you did.”

He slowly but surely let go of your arm, his shoulders slumping.

“You were wrong back then, you know? It wasn't me who could have been lucky to have you,” you smiled at him, “It could have been you who would have been lucky to have me. But that's your loss.. not mine.”

He came here for Taehyung, but he didn't even think about his hyung after this encounter.

All he could think about was regret.. his body was full of nothing but regret.

You, on the other hand, got into the elevator with a proud smile and entered your apartment with an even happier smile as you saw your son waddling towards you.

Completely naked.

“Hey, hey, hey, why are you running around with no pants again?”

The little boy giggled and hid behind you and a moment later, Taehyung slid into the hallway with his socks.

“Oh! Hey! You got him!”

“Did he run away again when you wanted to change his diapers?”

“I swear it's not my fault,” he laughed, quickly kissed your cheek and then picked up his son, “Come on now, I know changing diapers isn't your favorite, I don't like it either, buddy, especially after the last time you peed in my face, but it has to be done.”

You walked into the kitchen with a grin to put away the groceries when your daughter joined you.

“Who was that guy, mom?” she sounded worried, but you still smiled at her.

“Just.. someone from my past.”

Maybe she knew. If she did, she didn't say anything.

Life changed as much for you as it did for her.

She wasn’t the three year old anymore who was yearning for a father, because she had one now. And even if she knew that Taehyung wasn’t her biological father, it didn’t matter to her. He raised her. He loved her. He cared for her.

She hugged you from behind like the angel that she was and held you tight, whispering, “I love you, mommy,” into your back.

Your life used to be so broken that you felt like it would never be okay again.

But as you could hear your son scream from happiness and your husband making airplane sounds and as you turned around to properly hug your daughter, you once again realized that you’ve finally passed the stage of darkness.

“I love you too, Zoe Kim.”

1K notes · View notes

coelakanths · 2 years ago

Note

bookcase & library card?

bookcase: out of all your wips, which do you think would sell the best?

ohhh probably werevamps. it gets ppl most excited when i talk abt it. it’s about a werewolf and a vampire who accidentally turn each other so they’re both hybrids now and both kinda furious about it but they end up falling in weird love a little and they’re also being hunted at the same time so they kinda have to work together. i don’t have all the details fleshed out because it’s a newer idea but it’s a really fun one :-) the main characters are hawkins (a sexy sexy vampire, she loves women and eating them yes all ways) and sydney (a werewolf whos kinda ashamed of the fact she’s a werewolf)!!

library card: what’s the first genre you wrote?

ok i was a very avid writer as a kid so i had to think hard about a definite first genre. most of it was modern fantasy— i remember one about a guy named silas and his magical wolf indigo living in the woods, one about four kids in a music-less world discovering these instruments but they’re also weapons, one abt some teenagers who have to save their small town from a beast that’s been systematically killing everyone for thousands of years, etc etc etc. that last one, aka crooked star (the earliest story with a name!), is technically my longest wip clocking in at like 60k. there are a lot of drafts. ones on wattpad (the first) while the rest are in my google docs. i wrote a lot abt it for nanowrimo when i was like…. thirteen? it’s a little crazy lol but ive recently scrapped the whole idea because there was a lot i needed to work out and the concept just doesn’t rlly appeal to me anymore it kinda lacks substance

it would be uncouth of me not to mention the great story writing contest from when i was eight between me and my two older siblings who would’ve been twelve and fourteen at the time— we had a month to write a story about a prompt picked by someone else. my sister wrote a post apocalyptic story, my brother a romance (i picked that LOL), and i had to write sci fi. i wrote about this kid on mars getting kidnapped or something. he eventually went to earth with his two friends i think? they were all named after planets. it was really bad and nobody voted for it iirc. absolutely devastating. but i moved on very quickly because i always had another story to write— preferably in genres i was more familiar with !

#mel tag #asks #good morning. sorry if any of this is incoherent #i am feverish :-) im being so normal about it :-)#ohhh there was also this story abt cats in space ….#it was cats. housecats. but they were a hyper intelligent alien race #and they had to leave their home planet and go somewhere else #and when they got to the new planet it was inhabited by alien dogs!!!!!#(my older sister was supposed to collab with me and write the dog pov but she never did)#that one was actually rlly good ngl. im still a huge fan #there was intrigue and cool characters and a backstabber and a love interest #it was very sophisticated compared to my other early work!#sorry lol i could talk abt my old shit all day i thibk it’s so fun

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gaemkyuu · 4 years ago

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So...Boyfriend? Boyfriend.

Warnings: death of a loved one and grief. There is one mention to drinking a bottle of wine but all characters in the story are above the age of 21. A/N: this is based off a post @ah2113 made a little while ago! I liked the idea and decided to write a cute fluffy piece on it! Hope you like it! “Reader and Charlie are best friends and they met on JATP. Charlie and the reader are in love with each other but don’t know. The readers grandma passes away and she calls Charlie, who is in a completely different state/country, in tears about the situation. Charlie feels horrible and completely drops everything he’s doing and immediately flies out to the reader and surprises them. He is with them throughout the whole viewing and funeral and meets her entire family. Everybody mistakens him for the readers boyfriend because of how much he is doing to help and tells the reader that he is clearly in love with them.” Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

So...Boyfriend? Boyfriend.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

Charlie was in the middle of an interview when his phone started vibrating. Normally he kept it on airplane mode, but today he forgot. He quickly reached for his phone and saw her name pop up on the screen, losing focus for a brief moment on the interview.

“Pardon me? Could you repeat the question?” Charlie was trying so hard to focus on the interview at hand but knowing he was on the last question, made it all the more difficult to focus when he knew she was calling.

“Charlie, the fans want to know. Are you single?” he chuckled but since he was distracted, he didn’t give a really good answer.

“Kinda” he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth and the fact that he started blushing made the situation worse! Thankfully the interviewer didn’t press any further into the matter and made a casual joke about it. They quickly wrapped the interview knowing that Charlie had another one scheduled right afterwards, but he had a few minutes to make up a phone call.

Amelie had worked on set for season one of Julie as a hair and make up artist and shocked many at how talented she was for her age. She got along well with the cast and would often hang out with them on their days off, but for some reason she gravitated the most to Charlie. Everyone often teased them about the chemistry they had and how they would make a great couple but both of them would laugh at the comments and deny any feelings towards one another. They were simply nothing more but really good friends.

Or so they thought.

Amelie was head over heels for the brunette and Charlie for her. She loved his smile and enthusiasm for life. She admired his work ethic and passion for what he did. She would squash every thought about being with Charlie because he was too good for her. She liked the weirdest things and entertained people with the most random facts. She could spend hours in an art and fashion museum, when most people could only spend so much time. Amelie saw herself as weird and knew that Charlie saw her as nothing more than a friend.

The opposite was true. Charlie loved her quirkiness and nerdiness around the strangest things. He loved that she was always so modest and humble, even though she had all the right to brag at how amazing she was at her talents. He loved how she was always up for trying something new and that she had an eye for fashion, design and art, but he knew she didn’t see him as anything more than a friend. That still didn’t stop Charlie from always being there for her.

“Charlie?” her voice came out in a broken and quiet whisper. He could tell that she was crying and he instantly felt his stomach drop. A few sniffles came from the other line before the voice spoke again. “She’s gone Charlie... Grandmaman is gone...” he could hear her voice start to shake again.

“Say the word Amelie and I am there” Charlie glanced at his watch,8:55pm. He had five more minutes until the next interview with the pop culture podcast from Sydney. This meant that it was 5:00am in London, where Amelie was working on Netflix’s newest series. “Ams?”

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you, I just didn’t know who else to talk to...” she sniffled quietly not sure what else to say.

“What time are you leaving to get to set?” 8:57pm, he was running out of time. He saw the notification that the next interviewer had signed on to their zoom meeting.

“I gotta be on set at 7:00am so the van will be here to pick me up at 6:30am. It’s my last day on set, so there’s that” she sniffled again, feeling herself calm down with Charlie on the other line. She desperately needed him, but she couldn’t ask him that. He was doing press for season 2 of Julie and the Phantoms and he needed to be available, not off consoling his friend who was madly in love with him.

“Amelie, listen, I have to jump onto the next interview, but try to get a little more sleep and drink some water. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done. When are you flying back?” Charlie felt awful having to hang up on her when he knew she needed him.

“I’ll be on the next flight out to Vancouver. Hopefully there’s a flight this evening back to Canada. My mom’s really upset and my siblings are rushing to get home for her” Amelie took a deep breath and listened to the frustrated sigh on the other end. He was probably annoyed that she called him. “Thank you for picking up Char”

“Anything for you Ams... I’m really sorry but I have to go now... If you’re busy when I call, can you let me know when you’re at the airport?” Amelie agreed and hung up the phone, flopping on the bed and a silent stream of tears falling from her eyes again. Meanwhile, Charlie sat in his LA bedroom, head in hands frustrated that he couldn’t be there for her.

***

Amelie watched out the window as the plane landed in Vancouver. She felt an anxiousness to get off the plane and be with her mom, but she knew she had to go through security and baggage. She didn’t notice that her leg was restlessly bouncing until the nice old lady beside her placed a hand on her lap.

“Excited are we?” she smiled at her kindly and Amelie blushed, a little embarrassed. “I was once in love too. I get the feeling”

“Actually, I’m just anxious to be with my mom... My grandmother passed away yesterday and I wanna be there for her” the old lady’s smile changed to an empathetic one and she patted her knee.

“I’m sorry for your loss my dear... I lost my sister a year ago today. It is not an easy thing to grieve and I can tell that your soul feels heavy. You might want to think about sharing that load with someone” she smiled. A flight attendant interrupted their conversation letting them know that she had priority to leave the plane. The old woman then looked at Amelie and winked. “They’re letting us off the plane now honey. Thank you miss, but my daughter can grab my bags from the upper compartment, can’t she” baffled at the kindness of the old woman, Amelie dumbly nodded and stood to help her. As they made their way through the gate, an attendant was waiting for the old woman. “You can leave my bags with this gentle man” she smiled.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that” the old woman took her hand. “Your mother is fortunate to have you as a daughter. Now go and be with her” Amelie smiled and gave the old woman a hug, and teared up a bit remembering her own grandmother. Wiping away a tear, Amelie said thank you again and headed off to get her bags. To no surprise, getting her suitcase was a gong show because they had to share a lane with another flight. By the time she got there, tons of people waited right by the carousel for their bags, making Amelie stand in the back and tippy toe to see a glimpse of her bag. She was fortunate that a man had helped her as she squeezed her way to the front, waiting for her bag. With a deep breath, she exited the doors and dialed her mother.

“Hello? Maman? What car are you in? Oh wait! I see it!” Amelie quickly rushed outside of the door at YVR to get to her mother’s vehicle. She was able to find a flight that evening and she left right away. The flight was long, but she was able to make it home to her mother’s side in 24 hours. She trotted over to her mother’s vehicle that pulled into the loading zone, flashing their hazards on, her mother getting out of the passenger side. Amelie stopped for a moment, confused that her mother wasn’t driving the car. Her mother quickly embraced her in her arms and both of them shared a tearful hug. “Who’s driving maman?”

Charlie stepped out of the driver’s seat and took Amelie’s suitcase from her, as she stood there with her mouth open. “Surprise?” she immediately felt a sudden wave of emotion wash over her and she jumped into Charlie’s waiting arms crying as he held her tight. She felt sadness and happiness while grieving over her Grandmother and feeling elated at the sudden presence of the boy.

“How?” she sniffled and pulled away, wiping her tears.

“Charlie knew how sad you were over Grandmaman, so he texted me late last night and flew in early this morning” her mother explained. Amelie’s mother knew of her crush on the boy and always encouraged her to pursue the relationship further, but she always insisted to her mother that they would be nothing more than friends. Her mother would roll her eyes at her daughter every time she said that, knowing that the chemistry and the feelings were there, but the two were just too stubborn to admit it.

“That’s what friends are for right?”

Right. Friends.

***

After being picked up at the airport, they went straight to her mother’s house and helped her mom plan out things for the funeral. Naturally, Charlie became the chauffer, driving Amelie and her mom around the city to make various appointments with funeral directors and lawyers. Amelie’s grandmother gave birth to five children and never remarried after her husband passed away. Amelie had very little recollection of her grandfather as he passed away when she was quite young. Each of her mother’s siblings had at least three kids and each child had at least three kids, making their family huge. That didn’t include her mother’s cousins and their families, all of which would be flying in to attend the funeral in two days time.

Running around was an emotionally exhausting task, not to mention the exhaustion that came with grief. The two women were grateful that Charlie was around for them that day as Amelie’s siblings slowly started to get into town. He ordered pizza for everyone, knowing that all of her siblings would be in Vancouver in time for the funeral. Her grandmother was clear that she wanted the viewing and funeral to be combined into one day, not wanting to prolong her burial process, something that they honored. But with that request, it meant a lot had to be done.

Amelie had four siblings, all of which were older than her, making her the baby of the family. Her brother Benoit had moved to New Brunswick to live with the love of his life Maxime, and he was the second to arrive. He had work to take care of and unfortunately Maxime couldn’t get the time off. Benoit got along very well with Charlie, connecting over Dieppe and how it differed from Fredericton where Benoit lived with his partner. Her twin sisters Rachelle and Rene got into Vancouver right before dinner and actually carried the pizza inside while Charlie paid. Both sisters lived in Toronto, one training on the Olympic figure skating team and the other working in Parliament. Throughout the night, they joked about how cute Charlie was and how they were both single and didn’t mind dating someone younger. This annoyed Amelie but she wouldn’t admit that to anyone. Her third oldest brother, Theo, was the last to arrive, getting in way past dinner but before midnight. He lived in New York pursuing photography and had to finish a shoot before he could come home. Hearing this, Charlie asked him multiple questions about photography when they sat around their mother’s fireplace that night. It was nice to be able to gather as a family before the craziness of their relatives. French Canadian families were big, loud and full of personality, but Amelie knew Charlie understood this dynamic very well.

The next two days passed by in a blur with Charlie helping out wherever he could and sometimes locking himself in her mother’s office to do an interview or meeting here and there. Amelie was so grateful for him because every time she felt overwhelmed or that she was going to cry, he somehow made it to her side, comforting her and helping her be strong. Rachelle and Rene kept telling her to claim Charlie before they did, but Amelie would always insist that they were friends. But when her brothers got involved, Amelie couldn’t help but think that maybe her siblings were right. Maybe she should ask Charlie out, but how could she do that when her entire family was still dealing with the loss of her grandmother?

Just last night, Charlie sat up late into the evening comforting Amelie as she put the slideshow together on her Macbook. She could hardly look at the pictures or listen to the music without tearing up and having mini cry sessions on his shoulder, something he took in stride. It also didn’t help that she had consumed an entire bottle of wine...

In all honesty, Charlie couldn’t be more happy to be by her side at this moment. He knew how hard it was to lose a loved one, especially since he lost his grandmother before filming season one of Julie and the Phantoms. Being here for her was important to him and he wanted to show her that she could always come to him. When she passed out on his shoulder that night, he thought about how badly he wanted to be with her as he tucked her in bed. He loved how she snuggled into his shoulder as he finished up the slide show and he loved that she reached out for him and called his name in her sleep as he walked away. He kissed your forehead goodnight and hated the fact that he couldn’t just call you his.

A soft knock at the door interrupted Amelie’s day dream of her grandmother. She wiped the tears that have unexpectedly fallen from her eyes and took a deep breath. “Come in” her voice was shakier than she wanted it to be, but relief washed over her when Charlie walked in wearing a black dress shirt and tie. He smiled empathetically to her and approached her with open arms, something she gladly accepted. She inhaled his scent, burying her face in his chest, while he rested his head on top of hers.

“You ready?” Charlie held her tight as he asked this question. This would be the first and last time Amelie would be seeing her deceased grandmother.

“I should be asking you that question” she softly giggled. Charlie would be meeting all of her relatives today, including her annoying cousin Madeleine.

“You forget that I too have a big family. It’ll be fine. Plus, I’m here for you and not them” Amelie pulled away from the hug to stare him in the eyes, silently figuring whether now was a time to discuss her feelings or not. In the end, she decided against it and smiled softly at him, which he returned.

“Thank you for being here Char... It really means a lot” he chuckled and pulled her close for a second hug, something she would never tire hearing.

“Anything for you Ams. Anything.”

***

The funeral and mass went according to plan and soon enough they found themselves in the church basement with a slide show of her grandmother playing in the background, while guests visited the pastries and beverages being served. Amelie was occupied with the many questions her aunts and uncles had about her career and how she was doing, but she couldn’t help but worry about Charlie. Throughout her conversations with her relatives, she watched Charlie help out her mother with the pastries and beverages, stopping once in a while to entertain the younger cousins at the children’s table. She smiled at him gratefully for helping out so much, but grew a little nervous when her nosy aunts and uncles pulled him aside and started interviewing him. It seemed like he was handling himself fine, but Amelie felt even more confident when he made eye contact with her and winked.

“Well if it isn’t the Hollywood superstar.” Amelie could feel herself cringe at the sound of the voice. It was Madeline, Amelie’s cousin. They were the same age and same stature, but they couldn’t be more opposite. Madeline pursued modeling at a young age and still continued to do it, but for some reason, she always felt that everything was a competition. Amelie wanted to simply be cousins, but Madeline would take every opportunity to upstage her or show off to their aunts and uncles. Amelie didn’t really care, but the more she didn’t the more vicious Madeleine became. At one point in their lives, Madeleine had moved to Vancouver for more opportunities and ended up living with her family. This caused a lot of drama between the two of them, including Madeleine dating several of her exes and bringing them to family events.

“Hey Mads. Long time no see” Amelie forced herself to be nice and polite, even though she felt her cousin didn’t deserve it. Her black dress was a little too tight and a little too revealing for a funeral, but she wasn’t about to bring that up. “How have you been?”

“Oh you know, living it up in Paris, traveling all over Europe for different modeling jobs. It’s exhausting, but I’m sure you know of it” anyone could hear the sarcasm and apprehension in her voice. Her aunts awkwardly moved away, making up some excuse about visiting other family members so that they could catch up. “How does it feel to be working on a children’s show?”

“I mean, I love what I do, so I can’t complain” Amelie bit her tongue before she could say anything rude. She never understood why her cousin always felt the need to announce how much better she was over her.

“So... optimistic. What’s it feel like to settle?” she felt the blood rush to her face, starting to lose control of her emotions. This was not the place or time to have this conversation, yet Madeline persisted. She took a deep breath trying to level herself and forced a smile on her face. As she opened her mouth to reply, she felt a warm hand hug her lower back and the slight smell of cologne fill the air.

“Everything alright babe?” she blushed at the name and gesture from Charlie, who kissed the top of her head. Madeline flushed and her eyes were as wide as saucers. “Oh hi, I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Charlie” he reached out his hand towards Madeline, keeping the other wrapped around Amelie.

“Madeline. It’s nice to meet you Charlie. You’re an actor from the show that she worked on, right? What are you doing here?” Amelie could hear the faintest trace of annoyance in her voice, and shook his hand. Charlie and Amelie looked at each other, a cocky smile on Charlie’s face and slight confusion on Amelie’s.

“I’m her boyfriend and I came to support her. I’m sure you’ve been dealing with the grief as well and I couldn’t let her go through this alone” part of what Charlie said was true, but Amelie couldn’t help but blush at the mention of boyfriend. No one had actually asked Charlie if they were dating, but a lot of relatives were beating around the bush. Apparently Charlie had said that rather loudly and some of the relatives started gossiping in a hushed voice.

“Wow Amelie. I didn’t know you had such good taste in men based on your past partners” Charlie laughed at the comment, something Madeline didn’t suspect.

“I wouldn’t say I’m good taste, but Ams if definitely a catch” he gloated and kissed her cheek, causing Amelie to blush furiously. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I actually came over because your mom needs some help” if there was one thing Amelie could count on, it would be Charlie’s ability to read a situation and get her out of it. “Shall we, my love?” she nodded and walked away from Madeline flushed and confused, but also really excited. He moved his hand from her back to her hand, softly dragging her away from the conversation.

“Boyfriend?” Amelie whispered to him, inferring the comments he made to Madeline.

“I know she ruffles your feathers, so why not ruffle hers?” Benoit interrupted Charlie, asking him if he could help put some of the tables from upstairs away. “You’re mom’s in the kitchenette, you can probably hide there for a bit. I got you a plate of pastries that I stashed in the back” she thanked him and watched him walk away with her brother. Before she could take another step, Rachelle and Rene linked arms with her on either side and rushed her into the kitchenette.

“So you’re dating now?!” Rene questioned and before Amelie could answer, Rachelle interrupted her. “When were you going to tell us this?!”

“About time” her mother scoffed, stirring another jug of fruit punch. “Okay you two, leave your sister alone to breathe for a second. Take these pitchers out to the table and find Theo. Make sure Tante Genevive hasn’t stolen him for a private photoshoot for Facebook” Amelie was grateful that her mother shooed the twins off and passed her the plate that Charlie put aside.

“Thanks Maman” her mother smiled smugly at her, moving about the kitchenette. “Please don’t say I told you so” her mother made the motion to zip her lips as she giddily made her way around the kitchen.

***

That evening, Amelie’s family stumbled through the front door of her mother’s house, everyone retiring to their rooms for a short moment of relaxation while their mother ordered take out for a late dinner. They had stayed behind to clean up with a few other relatives and put away the church tables and chairs. Charlie didn’t complain a single time and rushed to do whatever he could to help everyone out. Charlie followed Amelie up the stairs to her old bedroom and shut the door behind him as she plopped onto the bed. Part of Amelie did this was because she was tired, but the other part of her did it hopefully to avoid the conversation they were about to have. Charlie quietly sat beside her on the bed and played with her hair, something she absolutely loved.

“So, about today...” this conversation was happening whether she wanted it to or not.

“It was really nice of you to stand up for me but you didn’t have to. I have no problem telling my family it was a small misunderstanding. It should stop them from blabbering to the media” She sat up and Charlie looked incredulously at Amelie confused at what she was saying.

“Ams, I don’t think you get it” again, she interrupted him before he could continue.

“No I do, I get it. You’re an amazing friend Char and you didn’t have to risk the rumours for-” she didn’t complete the thought because Charlie’s lips were suddenly on hers and she completely melted into them. It was like this tension that she never acknowledged left her shoulders, making her feel like she was floating.

“Do you understand now?” he searched her eyes for some sort of confirmation. “I really like you Amelie and I’ve liked you for a long time, but I’ve always thought you wanted to be friends”

“I wanted to be friends?! I thought you friend zoned me first!” he gave her a look for interrupting him. “Sorry”

“Regardless of what happened, being with you here and helping you and your family throughout all of this made me want to be a part of your life so much more. I want to be more than your friend. I know this is a bad time to say this, but I don’t think I can keep pretending that I don’t want to be with you” he held her hand in his and drew nearer to her again. “I really want to be with you if you’ll have me”

She closed the gap between the two of them and kissed him this time, something which Charlie gladly accepted. The two shared a simple but passionate kiss, as if they were confessing two years of secret feelings to each other. A bang at the door startled them.

“Put your pants on! Maman wants you guys to go pick up the take out!” Benoit yelled from behind the door. The two flushed at the comment and heard the snickers and giggles from the other siblings.

“So...boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend.”

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie imagines

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moony401 · 3 years ago

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this may be weird, but do you really think that jordelia will end up together? as much as everyone wants them to, looking at the familly tree and the errors with mixing up first marriages and that story (i'm forgetting the name) where the name layla comes from having an unhappy ending is making me think something will go wrong. also, with the theory of matthew getting his marks stripped, what if he just loses his name and ended up taking cordelia's? i'm doing a reread and noticing new things

Hey Anon, thanks so much for the ask, I love getting them 🥰❤️

I 100% think Jordelia will end up together. I think if she were going to go in another direction she wouldn’t have spent the majority of Chain of Iron focusing on their relationship. Now that James has realised his love for her there’s no doubt in my mind, he won’t love anyone else and we know he doesn’t die so I think they will. There’s so many moments they share that lead me to believe this, but here’s a quote from Tessa about James in Gotsm “My James knew the power of a love story as well as well as I do”. I think this eludes to Jordelia’s overall story- while there were obstacles to their relationship, they got past them and ended up together. There’s another quote like that from Fever, a short story from Cordelia’s perspective “She did not realize it would be a long, long time before she ceased to feel the lack of him inside her heart”. Suggesting that at some stage she is always with him, so again, I think that Grace, Belial/Tatiana and Matthew are just the obstacles they face in their journey.

I know where you’re coming from in terms of the family tree, it’s confusing and something that Cassie repeatedly says she regrets doing. But, I think the ‘twist’ in their marriage is just how they got married... In saying that, I’m not sure if they will stay ‘properly’ married, it might be interesting if Cordelia has to divorce James or never get her second rune to get her out of her oath with Lilith so she would technically no longer be ‘Cordelia Herondale’. It might be interesting if they were together romantically so they had to lead the Clave to believe they were still truly married, which could be why Jem changed the family tree? (it would be kind of fun to turn the reason they got married on its head, like they got fake married because of her reputation and society’s view of unmarried women but then they break this societal expectation by not being ‘properly’ married but still remaining together...). I’m not too worried about the family tree aspect, I know there will be a twist to how they end up together, and I have plenty more theories, but I have no doubt that will end up together.

The Layla and Majnun story is interesting I haven’t read it in full but I would like to. As far as I know Majnun gets lost in the wilderness and Layla dies of heartbreak.. I think Cassie references this because it parallels James being ‘lost’ in his own mind, he’s being controlled and has lost his own willpower and as a result Cordelia is left heartbroken. But, that doesn’t mean it has to end like the actual story. The entire series itself is loosely inspired by the Great Expectations where James and Grace would be Pip and Estella respectively and their story is already very different from the Great Expectations. This was also something that worried people when Tid was coming out, it’s loosely based on The Tale of Two Cities and Will Herondale is constantly described to be Sydney Carton, who dies/sacrifices himself and doesn’t end up with Lucie (who would be Tessa in this case) but this is obviously very different from the Tid ending. Cassie loves a happy ending, so I wouldn’t worry about that.

Oh Matthew, he’s definitely a character to be worried about, there’s a lot of scary foreshadowing with him 💔. They could get married, it’s possible I guess, I think it’s unlikely because I think it would only happen to get Cordelia out of her oath so not an actual ‘love’ match (which I doubt Cordelia would want to go through again). I really don’t think that Matthew and Cordelia are going to end up together... it’s just not being set up that way at all in my eyes, I’ve mentioned this before, but I feel like Matthew isn’t actually in love with Cordelia, he just knows that he can never be with her and so is using her to punish himself. It’s been acknowledged he seeks a ‘hopeless love’ so what makes this situation different from the one he had with Lucie? Cordelia only sees Matthew as a friend and he knows she’s in love with James. Cordelia actually mentions the word ‘friend’ atleast three times when he tells her how he feels, in fact when he tells her he loves her this is her thought process: “Cordelia was speechless. She did not want to hurt him; she had been hurt enough and had no desire to pass it on to someone else. Especially as dear a friend as Matthew”. This could change but it would be a really weird plot twist that I wouldn’t feel is earned, Cordelia has never expressed romantic interest in Matthew past calling him handsome or noticing his arms 😅? Again, I think this is explained away with this Chog quote “He was very handsome, Cordelia thought; she didn’t know why she didn’t respond to him as she did to James. But then, she didn’t respond to anyone as she did to James”. Bearing in mind that only a week will have passed from the end of Choi to the beginning of Chot, there’s really not room for her to have realistically developed romantic feelings for Matthew, in my opinion.

#ask answered #jordelia #herondaisy #chain of iron #the last hours #chain of thorns #james herondale #cordelia carstairs #matthew fairchild #tlh #chain of gold

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

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Too Late To Hold My Heart (Joe Liebgott x Reader)

Alright, i’m not 100% sure about this but here ya go. Just something that came to mind. Lemme know what y’all think! I usually shy away from writing angst...

Warnings: ANGST, a couple swear words, a tiny bit of fluff (I’m so sorry for all the feels)

Words:2600

Tag List: @happyveday @sydney-m @saritanotserena

Joe Liebgott reclined on the cushioned chair, open bottle of schnapps in hand. Watching. Unable to tear his gaze away. He should have been ecstatic. He should have been shouting from the rooftops, running around, causing mayhem like the others. Joining in the revelry surrounding him with abandon. Drinking from the cup of life handed to him and the other paratroopers.

The war in Europe was over.

VE Day.

Everyone was getting drunk off their asses in celebration. They had somehow survived and made it to the end. Alcohol flowed freely. Laughter and exclamations, the background of the town they were currently occupying. Luz and Christianson were loudly singing in the next room over, the radio drowned out by their voices. Even Martin was belly-laughing across the room, a bottle in hand.

Yet instead of getting drunk to celebrate, Joe was getting drunk to forget.

To forget you.

He could still remember how you felt in his hands, the way your sighs tasted on his lips. The hopes and dreams you confessed to him in the nights you shared a foxhole. How you whispered his name, the sound rolling off your lips. How you held him so tightly as he sobbed in your arms the night after Tipper got hit. Intoxicating memories that threatened to drown him now.

The worst part.

He could see you across the room, laughing openly with your head tipped back and hand over your mouth, as if to contain the beguiling sound. In the glow of the surrounding lamps, you were a vision of true beauty and carefree joy.

The problem?

Floyd Talbert's arm, possessively around your waist, pulling you closer into his side on the couch you both were sitting on.

Joe took another swig of the schnapps, grimacing at the taste. Those around him continued to talk and laugh, oblivious to his simmering anger.

He could still see it. Just a few hours ago as they got word of the Nazis' surrender, everyone had been cheering and running around like children set loose on a playground. Joe had hurried to find you, to see your smile, to embrace you. For so long you two had talked about this moment. The end of the war.

Instead, his feet stuck to the cobbled road, trapped as if in cement. Shock and anger colored his world in vibrant hues, the joy around him turning into dull grays. For there was Talbert running to you, scooping you up in his arms, swinging you around without a care in the word. And as he set you back on your feet, he kissed you as if you were the very air he needed.

Those who witnessed it either laughed or stared in shock. A couple wolf whistles sounded amongst the cheering.

But Joe felt like a white-hot dagger had been stuck into his chest, burning his heart.

For you had kissed Talbert back just as passionately.

So here he sat, surrounded by revelry, surrounded by his fellow paratroopers celebrating the war's end in Europe. Only that joy seemed to bypass him, leaving him to wallow in confusion and anger.

The way you breathed out his name as he kissed you, like he was the only thing keeping you tied down to this world. Your hands in his hair, holding him against you. Your soft skin in the moonlight. The quiet laughter as you stared into each other's eyes after. The teasing about not getting caught by the others… He could remember it all.

Now though, it was someone else who laid a kiss to your temple, making you giggle sweetly. Someone else who had their arm around you. Someone else who you were gazing up at like they put the stars in the sky.

It was supposed to be him. It was always supposed to be him. He planned on changing your last name to Liebgott. He had thought of your future together so many times. The only thing that kept him sane through the past several months.

Now this tasted like betrayal.

And he was not sure who he was furious with- himself or you.

Eventually, he watched you bid goodnight to those around you, giggling as your feet swayed slightly. You had always been a lightweight. A quick peck on the lips to Talbert; then you disappeared into the back and up the stairs where your room in the house was.

Without a second thought, Joe drained the rest of the bottle in his hand. Not even paying attention to the taste anymore. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, dropping the bottle on the ground.

And he followed you.

*****

You pulled the pins out of your hair, letting it down from the chignon it had been in. Bubbles danced in your belly, both from joy and from the champagne you had been sipping on. VE Day. A part of you never thought this day would ever come. Next, you took off your OD jacket, tossing it onto the bed next to you, leaving you standing there in your white undershirt and OD trousers and socks.

Wait?

You giggled as you stared down at your sock-clad feet. You remembered wearing your boots earlier. At some point you must have taken them off. Well, you might remember throwing one at Luz. Hopefully Tab could help you find them in the morning. Or someone with the least severe hangover. You giggled again thinking of poor Gene who was going to be dealing with all these hungover paratroopers coming to him for pain meds. Maybe you should volunteer to help him. You did not drink that much to be affected in the morning. It was better for the company that you remained mostly sober.

The door to your solitary room opened behind you. Surprised, you turned around, ready to tease whoever came in. Was someone bringing up your boots?

When Liebgott stepped through, the words froze on your tongue and all the joyful bubbles popped, leaving you feeling hollow and nauseous.

He stood just inside the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. His hair was messy, as if he ran his hand through it too many times. Eyes slightly glassy but obscured by the fire burning in them. "So, you and Tab, huh? How long has this been going on?"

"Joe…I think you should leave." You turned back around and ran your fingers through your hair, preparing to braid your hair like you did every night.

"What? Was it before or after us, huh?" Even without looking at him, you could imagine the sneer on his face. His voice that at one time used to be so gentle and kind to you, now was harsh and grating.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

In a couple steps, he was behind you, gripping your arm to whirl you around violently. "Answer the goddamn question, y/n!"

"There was never an 'us'." You spat out, surprising yourself with the venom in your own voice.

He took a step back, eyes wide in shock. Then as what you said sunk in, the fire burning in his eyes turned into an inferno that threatened to burn you both in its wake. "What the fuck are you talking about? Of course, there was an us! We fucked in Mourmelon! We talked about our futures! About life together after the war! Even in Albourne, there was always an us!"

"And then you shut me out!" You yelled back at him.

Chest heaving, you covered your mouth with your hand for a moment, trying to force back the flood of pain and emotions clawing desperately to escape. When you continued speaking, you kept your eyes on his dog tags hanging over his shirt, your voice low as if confessing a sin. "We used to talk about everything. I thought that if we both survived this war, we might--" You stopped yourself from finishing that sentence. "It doesn't matter now. In Bastogne, you cut me off. You wouldn't talk to me. You ignored me. I got injured and needed you, but you weren't there. Even in Haguenau, it was like you never saw me. I was suddenly invisible to you. What was I supposed to think?"

His eyes were wide, mouth open slightly, as if now recognizing the effects of his actions. He licked his lips, then reached his hand out like he meant to cup your cheek but thought better of it and dropped it back to his side. "I... I didn't want to hurt you anymore. I made you cry and that-- SHIT! I'm not a good man. I'm a selfish asshole. I just… I wanted to be better for you."

"Joe, don't-"

"No, damn it." He interrupted you, grabbing a fistful of your loose hair and tipping your head up, forcing your eyes to meet his. "I didn't want blood on my hands the next time I touched you, held you, kissed you. I needed to be a good man for you. What you fucking deserve. But I couldn't do it. Not there. I just thought...after. When the war was over. We could try again."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Did I mention I'm a selfish asshole yet?"

You chuckled, placing your hands on his chest. His rapid heartbeat under your fingers matched your own. His fist loosened in your hair, fingers running through it like he knew you loved. A subtle sigh escaped your lips without permission at the gentle touch. How long had it been since he touched you like this?

"Please, y/n, please." He begged, voice cracking at the end. "Give me another chance."

You shook your head, dropping your gaze. "You had it, but you pushed me away when I needed you. I can't...I can't go through that again. It hurt too much."

"Was there ever really a chance? For us?"

"Joe… I… I can't…" Tears flooded your eyes; you desperately fought to keep them from falling.

So slowly, he ran his hand through your hair one last time then took a half step back. "And Tab?"

"He has always been a friend, even in Toccoa. He looked out for me. And in Bastogne, he was there for me. We took care of each other, especially after I got injured but couldn't leave the line. He helped me pick up the pieces of myself after. It wasn't supposed to happen. We were only supposed to be friends. But...things changed."

He nodded, then rubbed the back of his neck while looking out the window. He tugged his lower lip into his mouth for a second, before staring at you once again. "Can I kiss you? One last time?"

"No. That would only hurt us both."

"Yeah...well if it means anything… I'm sorry. For everything."

"Me too." You covered your mouth with your hand, physically suppressing the sob that felt lodged in your throat. Peeking through your watery eyes, you could just make out the tears in his own as he stared at you longingly.

You two stood there gazing at one another, a million unspoken words laying on the ground between your feet. Words you both wished you had said in the past, but it was too late now. Too late to pick them up, dust them off and share them. Like your hearts. Hopes, dreams and desires that pulled on you two, keeping you together. Those strings were cut. Severed by the hatchet of insecurity, war and pain. It was too late to try and save those strings.

It was all months too late.

How you wished it was different.

"Everything alright here?" Talbert asked, standing in the doorway. His gaze jumped rapidly between you and Liebgott, still standing only a step apart. His jacket was unbuttoned, pieces of hair sticking up haphazardly like someone tried to give him a noogie.

"Yeah, yeah." You met Tab's eyes, taking another step back from Liebgott. Quickly, you wiped your eyes with the heel of your hand. "Just talking about home. Hopefully we can see it soon."

"Oh yeah, I forgot you both are from San Francisco. Small world, huh?" He smiled, leaning against the doorframe.

"Small world. Well, I should probably get to sleep. Good night, Joe."

"Yeah." Liebgott stared at you like he was burning your image into his mind permanently; you could feel his eyes caressing your cheeks and lips. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out with a quick, 'see ya, Tab' over his shoulder.

Pushing off the doorframe, Talbert approached you. He scanned you like he was looking for an injury, then gently pulled you into his warm embrace. He kissed the top of your head once you burrowed into his arms. "Hey, you alright, baby?"

"I'm fine. I promise. I just...I'm ready to go back. To go home, you know?"

"I know. I am too. But don't get too comfortable in California. You're gonna come live with me in Kokomo."

You giggled, tipping your face up to look at his smug expression. "Oh, I am? What if I want you to stay in Cali with me? You did say you've always wanted to live near the ocean."

"I did, didn't I?"

"Mmm...we could get a little house near the bay. Not too close to my parents though. My sister will probably fight me to try and snatch you up."

"Well, that would be the first time I've had sisters fight over me before."

You swatted his chest but he only laughed, pulling you against him again.

"You don't have to worry about your sister. I've only got eyes for you. Been that way for a while." He lightly kissed your lips, a tease of affection. "Alright, you've made a valid argument for California. I think I might be persuaded to change my mind."

"Good. As a reward, we can get a dog. Maybe call him Trigger?"

He smiled brilliantly, "Have I mentioned how much I love you, baby." He tucked your head under his. The feeling of being fully surrounded by his comforting embrace, released the tension you carried. His hand skimmed up and down your back as you just held one another. No matter the circumstances, you had always been able to find a semblance of peace while in his arms.

With Liebgott, your affections for him had felt like a shooting star. You could not help but get caught up by him, struck by the power and beauty, wishing for it to always continue on. Now though, you knew. Shooting stars never last forever. They eventually have to come down.

While with Talbert, he was your lighthouse. In your darkest moments when you did not think you could continue, he whispered words of comfort in your ear, held your bloodied hand in his. He drew you out of the quagmire of darkness, guiding you, encouraging you to keep going. Something he did every day, even now. With a soft smile, a gentle touch, he reminded you that you were not alone. From day one in Toccoa, he had stood in your corner. He was safety and stability amongst chaos. You fully trusted him, with more than just your heart.

You happened to turn your head, peeking towards the doorway. Only to see Joe staring at you, looking like he had been gutted. You met his gaze while in the arms of the man you loved and trusted. He must have lingered or came back. It did not matter though. He had heard. The idea of a place by the bay, a family dog...those were things you two had talked about before. Now they were dreams you shared with another.

After a long moment, he tucked his hands in his pockets and turned away, disappearing from view. You turned your face back into Tab's chest, heart fraying at the seams.

How was it possible for love to be the best and worst thing you had ever experienced?

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #floyd talbert #floyd talbert x reader #mzwrites

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ilguna · 3 years ago

Text

Anteric - Chapter Eight (f.o)

summary: secrets have more worth than you gave them credit for.

warnings; swearing, blackmail, mention of underage drinking, BURIED ALIVE IN DETAIL, GORE, DEATH, SPIDERS, mild CLAUSTROPHOBIA

wc; 14.1k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

The hallway’s silence is deafening, filled with only your breaths. Bodies are lined up against the wall on each side, all sitting. Across from you are the Dauntless-born initiates, and on both of your sides are your fellow transfers. The person that stares at you through the darkness is Blaire, who twists the end of his shirt around his finger, stretching it and leaving wrinkles.

He’s obviously distracted, eyes not seeing you, but the space beyond it. It’s the exact same look that a few others have. It’s gone quickly, though, all with a simple accidental bump from Nestor. A smile spreads across Blaire’s face, eyes immediately going to his friend to give a gentle push back, ultimately starting a shoving match.

Down the line, from left to right, is Sydney, Nestor, Blaire and Ameer. As for Mirza, Horace, Cass and Lennox, they’ve already been called into the room with Laurel. She takes each of you one by one, in no particular order. You originally thought it was alphabetical, the theory was gone as quickly as it came when she called Thyme first. Her last name is Tattrie.

To your left is Trink, she twirls a strand of her blonde hair around her finger, laughing at Blaire and Nestor. To your right is Finnick, with Eytelle on the very end. There’s a large gap between you and Finnick, and that’s because Allio and Thyme were there before they were called in.

For the first stage of initiation, your two groups were ranked separately. The real challenge begins here, now that you’ve been combined. You had started with eighteen, but with four being cut in the last stage, there are now fourteen. On the way here, Laurel told you not to stress out, no one will be getting cut this time around. The next stage, the final stage, is when all final decisions will be made. This is just the preparation.

You watch as Nestor bounces against Sydney too hard, sending her to the side. Her hand slaps against the ground, stopping her from hitting the floor. Instantly, her hair flies out of her face as she glares at the back of Nestor’s head, “Can the two of you stop it?”

Blaire is laughing too loudly, causing Nestor not to hear. He knocks into Sydney, she doesn’t waste time making her point known. She shoves Nestor from behind, sending him flying into Blaire.

You crack a smile, watching as the two boys then go to gang up on her. In no time, the hallway is filled with screeching giggles, kicking to get them off. For a moment, Blaire turns his attention to you, eyebrows and hands raised as a challenge. If he even dares...

You back away from him, sitting flush against the wall, “Unlike Sydney, I’ll aim for the face.”

Trink lets out a noise that’s closest to a laugh, “Oh! That’s true, and she’s brutal.”

No one responds to what she says immediately, until Ameer is leaning forward, barely coming out of the shadows and into the soft blue light, “Brutal?” he challenges, “What did you rank, again?”

Sydney and Nestor are beginning to relax now, interested in the conversation that’s about to be had. You accidentally catch a glimpse of their hands intertwining, and end up forcing yourself to look at Ameer for a distraction. You can already feel the judgement rolling back on. After what happened during breakfast, you’re not sure if you want your friends to catch on again.

In Abnegation, relationships happen, obviously, but they are not physical and out in the open like this. They are supposed to be private and to keep others from feeling uncomfortable. Your parents had been married for years and there’s not a single time you can recall them kissing. Hugging, maybe, but all the intimate movements would have to be saved for private.

This is different, new and something you have to overcome before it’s recognized as a weakness by others.

Your eyes lock with Ameer, “Second.”

Something flashes across his face, disbelief, you think it is, “How many wins did you have?”

“Two.”

The doubt is settling in, you can tell by the way he squints his eyes, mouth puckering as he watches you carefully, “Who was first?”

“Allio, he had three wins.” your hands find each other, fingers intertwining. He’s going to come to the same exact realization that the rest of you did. That there is foul play and you are undeserving of your title.

Ameer’s eyes break contact with yours to find Finnick. His head is tilted in your direction, listening in on the conversation like he’s anticipating his turn to be the topic. But he doesn’t say anything, only waits patiently.

“I thought Finnick was leading?” Ameer asks, eyebrows drawing in.

“Not anymore,” your words are crisp, “He’s third, with three wins.”

There it is, the questioning look from Ameer. He doesn’t have to tell you that it doesn’t make sense, you’re already nodding. You know, Finnick knows, everyone else in your group knows. There is nothing you can do about it, not that you would want to anyway.

“I’m brutal,” you give him a smile, like that statement alone is enough to erase his questions. You won’t leave him hanging, it’s hard not to brag with the next sentence, “Who do you think did that to his face?”

Ameer doesn’t respond at first.

Since yesterday, you’ve decided that you shouldn’t let the others know that you’re semi-friendly with Finnick. On the off-chance that they let Thyme know, or she somehow finds out, you’ll automatically be fucked. However, it doesn’t matter that much, anyway. You were stopped in your tracks when you realized that this is the fastest that Finnick has ever turned around. It’s a red flag.

And it could be because of a number of things you’ve said to him. It could be because you’ve known each other since forever, since you were infants. To him, you are the last thing he has from home. He is almost the same to you, except you have someone to fill that gap of homesickness.

His name does not start with an F.

What you know for sure, is that you don’t want to head into things blindly regarding Finnick, not with Thyme around.

Ameer glances at Finnick again, the gears turning in his head. You watch his eyebrows raise slightly, “You have to be kidding. Finnick’s like a whole foot taller than you.”

You cross your arms instead, it feels more natural this way, “So?”

“So,” he mocks your tone, “You couldn’t possibly reach up that far, right?”

There’s a few things wrong with what Ameer is saying, and the first thing is that Finnick is not a whole foot taller than you. You and Finnick have got distance, but it is a much easier gap to close than what Amos had against Eytelle. The second, is that he’s suggesting that you’re not good enough. And you’re not sure if he wants to head down that path with you.

You can feel your face darken, teeth pressing into each other, “Would you like to test that theory?”

Ameer opens his mouth, going to speak, but nothing comes out. He closes his mouth, shakes his head, and falls back against the wall like he’s trying to escape the door he had just opened.

It’s too bad for him, because you still have more to say, “I’m not sure if you’re one to talk, anyway.” you lift your head back up, eyebrows in, “If I remember right, you placed fifth. Which is kinda embarrassing, considering you’re the son of one of the leaders.”

His eyes narrow, mind changing again, “At least we know I didn’t cheat.”

You smile, “Ameer if it’s a fight that you’re looking for, all you have to do is ask.”

He stares at you, jaw clenching and unclenching. It’s pretty obvious to you that whatever minor friendship that had been forming between the two of you, is now gone. Which means that you can probably go ahead and assume that Mirza is off the table too.

It’s a shame because Ameer isn’t all that bad to be around, but the timing of all of this is wrong. You’ve been walked on too many times in the past couple of days and it’s starting to get irritating. You’re not about to bite your tongue with him, especially since you don’t know him all that well, anyway.

In the end, this could all be reversed, you’re sure. A little spout like this won’t stick in Dauntless. Not when initiation ends and all of you have met the end of the tunnel. It’ll be like water under the bridge, a memory you can laugh at.

The door at the end of the hallway opens, making you all look over. Laurel is the one standing in the doorway, leaned up against the frame, “(Y/n).”

You rise from the floor, making a point to avoid Ameer’s extended legs, just in case he gets any bright ideas. Unfortunately, you think you’ve had more than your fair share of tripping during school. After Erudite started releasing the reports, it just got worse.

Laurel moves back and out of the way, allowing you to come inside. You only get a few steps in, looking around the room before you stop. Laurel has already reached out, pulling the door shut behind the two of you. She slips by as if your stillness isn’t a surprise.

In the middle of the room sits the same exact chair that you had sat in during the aptitude test. Beside it is the machine that looks a lot like the one that was used to measure your decisions for your future faction. However, in this room, there are no mirrors for you to stare into. There’s barely any light, and the only other object in the room is a computer sitting on a desk in the corner, emitting a small amount of light.

“Go ahead and sit.” Laurel says, standing in front of the machine, you slowly make your way over.

If the chair is here, it means that you’re going to be subjected to another simulation, there’s no question about that. What you’re really worried about is the results and whether or not they’re going to be reported. Laurel and Caspian might be okay with it, but they’re just two out of the several hundreds of people in Dauntless.

If Laurel has to report the results, there’s no way she’s going to be able to manually insert them like last time, not without seeming suspicious.

You slowly slide into the chair, “What simulation do I have to go through today?”

“You’ll be facing one of your fears today,” her eyes meet yours, “your results will be sent to the administrators for review.”

You press your lips together, wanting to ask her if there’s danger in doing this. But you don’t even have to ask, you already know the answer, and it’s yes. Mox told you plainly that this would be easy for you, which is basically a red flag, especially after how hard the first stage was. This should be just as, maybe more, difficult.

“Okay,” you say, as if you’re agreeing. You don’t really have much of a choice.

“Stay still, I have to inject the serum.” she says, coming around the chair. In her hands is the syringe, tinted orange because of the liquid. She has her thumb against the plunger, ready to go. The needle looks longer than what you’re used to at the doctor’s office.

With a shaky hand, you move your hair behind your shoulder so that she has easy access to your neck. You wonder why they can’t just make you drink the liquid instead of injecting it. Sometimes needles aren’t a bother with you--you’re sure that it won’t show up during the simulation--but it’s bigger than usual.

Either way, you sit as still as possible when Laurel presses the needle into your neck. The pinch is much more painful this time around, the ache begins before it’s even been removed. You stare straight ahead at the door, wondering what the others are talking about now that you’re gone. It might even include Finnick.

It’s an instant relief when the needle is removed, “You have sixty seconds before it kicks in,” Laurel sounds like she’s standing behind you, probably next to the machine again, “To put this stage simply, we’ll be training you to get over your fears--or at least make them manageable. Just in case you were to come across a situation that would involve it in the real world.

“The serum induces a hallucination, and I’ll get to monitor what you’re doing the entire time. After, this will all be submitted to the administrators, as I told you before. You will stay in the hallucination until you can calm yourself down by lowering your heart rate and controlling your breathing.”

While she talks, you can feel your heart start pounding in your chest, hands automatically gripping onto the arms of the chair. They slip against the metal because of the sweat, making it impossible for you to feel stable. When you realize this, you try taking deep breaths, desperate to know if you can end the simulation before it begins.

Laurel gently places her hand on your shoulder, coming around the chair and into your line of sight, near the door. Your eyes flicker to her.

“Take your time, you’ll be okay.” she smiles.

You fall back against the headrest.

And jolt awake hard enough to hit your head on the ceiling above you. A groan leaves your lips as you press your head back down against the floor beneath you. Wherever you are, it’s dark and it’s going to take you a second to adjust to see.

You run your fingers against the floor, eyebrows knit together as you try to figure out what it is. It’s not cold or grooved, so you’d like to confidently say that it isn’t concrete or wood. It feels smooth, almost soft against your fingertips--silk? You move your hand to touch your forehead, still aching from your initial wake, when your elbow hits a wall.

You lift your head now, staring down at your feet through the darkness. When you extend your toe, you can feel another wall. The final one sits behind your head, which has to mean that you’re boxed in somewhere. You press your hands firmly against the top, pushing as hard as you can. They don’t think that you’re claustrophobic, do they?

You could sit in this box for the rest of your life if it weren’t for the elements. The problem is that Laurel said she’s just monitoring, she’s not actually picking and choosing the scenes you go into, unlike the aptitude test. She might be able to end the test early if needed, but you think that would be the extent of it.

The top of the box isn’t budging, and you’ve got your arms locked out straight, shoulder blades pressing into the fabric beneath you. You don’t know what’s locking you in here, maybe steel or wood, but you’re pretty sure you’re not going to be able to get out. Even a solid half-kick doesn’t break anything, only sends pains shooting through your toes.

Well, for a fear-facing simulation, it really missed the mark. A box with no escape doesn’t really have any effect on you, which means that with a couple of deep breaths, you’ll be out of here in no time.

Resting your head against the box again, you close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing. Even a couple of seconds later, you feel much better. You can see yourself waking up in the chair, with Laurel standing two feet or so away.

The silence is disturbed by a thudding sound on the other side of the ceiling. You stare, mouth turned into a frown, “Hello?”

As you wait, you press your hand to the ceiling in front of you again, wanting to know if it’s going to come loose now, but it’s just as stuck as it was before. There’s no vocal response that you can hear, just another thud, except it sounds like rocks raining down on the other side, dirt that sounds like sand.

Maybe you weren’t loud enough, “Hello?”

Still nothing, besides the rock sound.

Actually, there’s a faint murmur, you have to strain to hear what’s being said. Even then, you can make out only half of the words. You think you hear ‘dead’, ‘coffin’ and ‘dirt’ all in the same sentence. Which is ridiculous, right? You’re not dead, so there would be no reason to bury you. But it would explain the rock sound.

“Hey!” You scream, face twisting as you slam your hands against the lid. If this is a coffin, then the lid should’ve budged by now. It isn’t moving, though, not as far as you can tell.

You keep screaming, slamming the toe of your shoe in the same place over and over, hoping that you can kick a hole through the wood. Unless it isn’t wood, which would explain why they can’t hear you, concrete absorbs sounds like they don’t even exist.

They’re going to leave you down here if you don’t find a way to catch their attention. Then you’ll be left to starve, your family mourning even though they don’t have to. You scream louder, your throat becomes sore, tears appear in your eyes. You pause, huffing out air, making you realize just how warm it is in here, and how limited your air is.

“Help!” you fall back against the floor, breathing through your mouth, “please!”

The thudding on the other side of the coffin is much softer now, not as prominent before. You can already picture the dirt encasing you, ensuring that you won’t escape. It’ll look exactly like when your parents had been buried, one after the other. You remember thinking that you’ll never see them in person again.

You grit your teeth, letting the tears roll down the sides of your face and into your ears. You need to get out of here, and the only way you can do that is if you let this go.

Your nails dig into your palm, trying to ignore the music that’s playing above you. Laurel told you that the trick to this is deep breaths and slowing your heartbeat. It’s just a hallucination, you’re not actually buried underground. You’re in the chair, you’re in the chair, you’re in the chair…

You open your eyes, only to be blinded by the one light in the room. Without being prompted, you get to your feet, arms wrapping around your upper body as a hug. You don’t care what happens next, all you know is that you can’t be laying down anymore. The way that the chair is angled is too similar to how you were inside of the coffin.

Laurel is pulling wires off of her face with a neutral expression. Her eyes find yours briefly, before she heads over to the machine, which is clearly more important than your wellbeing.

A gust of cold air from a vent makes you remember the tears on your face, and you work quickly to wipe the wetness off with your shirt. You sniff and readjust and rub your knuckles, the feeling of pounding on the lid won’t go away. It’s a phantom feeling, the sister of the pain in your feet from trying to kick free.

“Well,” Laurel drags out the word slightly, “In comparison to the other initiates I’ve seen today, you were, by far, the quickest to come out.”

You have to ask, “Is that good or bad?”

“If you keep it up, you’ll be number one when the rankings come out.” She doesn’t say it outright, but her eyes do. If you’re in and out then you’ll definitely attract attention, something that you don’t want.

“What’s the average time?”

“Sixteen to eighteen,” she presses her lips together, “You were out in a little less than four minutes.”

Oh.

Oh, that is not good at all.

“Okay,” you say, but it’s not, you feel like screaming. You need to find a way to purposely spend more time in the hallucinations. But you’re not sure how to do that, because what felt like ten minutes inside of the hallucination, was only four minutes for you.

“You can leave the same way you came in.” Laurel gives you a smile, “Don’t worry about it too much, okay? I’ll see you later.”

“Thank you.” you murmur, slipping out of the door and back into the hallway’s darkness.

Unfortunately, on the way out, you have to pass by your friends. When all of the others had come out of the room, you weren’t paying attention to their faces. Most of them, like Horace and Cass, you didn’t really care for. But now it matters, especially since it’s only friends that are left. And they’re definitely going to want to look at you.

Their laughter quiets the closer you get. The first person to look up is Finnick, eyebrows together as he looks over your face. You force a quick smile, passing by him while being careful to avoid Ameer’s feet again. No one speaks, until Blaire grabs your hand.

“Any advice?”

You place your hand over his, “Focus on your breathing.”

He lets you go, just in time for the need to hug yourself comes back. You carefully wrap your arms around your upper body, before taking the next corner.

You wait in that hallway for a while, leaned up against the wall to blend in. You don’t know who you want to see first, Blaire or Trink? Or maybe Finnick? You’re hoping it’s not Ameer, but you really wouldn’t mind hanging out with only Sydney and Nestor again.

The person that rounds the corner first is Finnick, you reach out to grab his arm, ultimately scaring him. When his eyes land on you, you can see that he’s already pretty shaken, so maybe this wasn’t the best move. You’re not sure standing in the middle of the hallway would have been much better, though.

“Hey,” you say, “Are you busy?”

He shakes his head, you go ahead and readjust your grip on his arm, pulling him along with you. You make sure to take the hallways that won’t bring you to the dormitory, or anywhere near it. If there’s a chance that Thyme is waiting for him nearby, you’d rather take the long route to the chasm.

The silence isn’t as uncomfortable as you thought it would be. However, you are surprised that Finnick doesn’t try to start a conversation on the way. You guess that since you’re the one taking him somewhere, you should be the one to talk. But it’s always been Finnick that can’t stand the silence, you know how to sit through it.

He’s lucky that the chasm isn’t a far walk. As soon as the roaring of the rushing water comes into earshot, you release him and let him decide how close he wants to get. The first couple of times you came out here, you didn’t want to get near the railing, unsure of how sturdy it was. Now you know it can hold your bodyweight, doesn’t tilt or come loose or anything.

“I would’ve talked in the dorm but I thought I’d show you where I disappear to all the time,” you say, turning to face him while practically sitting on the railing. You can feel the breeze blow against your back, reminding you not to lean too far, “I don’t want to argue, Finnick, so please just bite your tongue for a minute.”

He’s making his way towards you at his own pace, “Okay.”

You watch his face for a moment to make sure that he actually is calm this time, because every time the two of you talk, it always seems to end in an argument. It doesn’t help that the irritation is already high because Thyme is trailing him. But for once, with her not here, you feel good.

“I want to tell you everything, but I would rather do the meaningless stuff first.” you can be honest with Finnick, you know this. You’re just afraid of creating a problem that doesn’t need to be made.

Finnick stops across from you, leaning against the rock wall. He hums out a response.

“You also can’t tell Thyme I’m talking to you,” your words pick up pace, “I’ll explain it all later, she just can’t catch wind of this.”

A crease appears between his eyebrows, “Okay.”

You begin picking at your nails, feeling smaller than him. This shouldn’t feel like a confession, but it does, “It was mostly during the first stage, because we were fighting the others. And kinda during the gun training too, actually.” you shrug, “I don’t like it when you brag.”

His face relaxes, a smile peeking at the corner of his mouth, “That’s it? That’s why you were going off alone?”

“I told you it was meaningless.” you roll your eyes.

He’s not hiding his smile anymore, “Anything else while you’re at it?”

You shrug, “You should probably get back to the dormitory before it looks like you got lost in the halls,” you smile, “After all, I disappear all the time.”

“Right,” he says, standing up fully, “I’ll talk to you later, then.”

“Yeah, remember what I said about Thyme.”

Finnick winks, takes a couple of steps to leave, and then pauses. When he turns to you, his eyebrows are raised, “Can I ask you a question real quick?”

You grip onto the railing, “Shoot.”

He’s no longer smiling, “Did Thyme say something to you?”

Finnick sits across from you in the hallway, patiently waiting to be called into the fear facing room like the rest of you. There’s a noticeable distance between him and Thyme, an unmistakable glare in her eyes. You’re not sure what he said to her yesterday evening, but it’s made her sour. Not enough to push her away, though, she’s still sticking pretty close to him. Still, the distance between them is satisfying.

Much to his annoyance, you couldn’t tell Finnick everything. The root of the Thyme problem starts with you, and you can’t just outright tell him you’re Divergent. You know you keep saying that the two of you have known each other since you were kids, but if a person like Thyme can come in and wreck shit within a week…

You told him what you could, specifically what Mox and Keely said about her. You couldn’t go into great detail, mostly because they didn’t give you anything to go off of in the first place. However, the moment you told Finnick that Mox was dead serious, he seemed to sober up and believe you.

If there’s one tell tale sign that Mox isn’t lying, it’s when he’s completely serious. It’s such a stark contrast to his normal lighthearted demeanor, and he never abuses the look. Unlike Reed, who’s had the same expression on his face ever since your parents died. It’s like the joy was sucked right out of him.

Anyway, you and Finnick are definitely making progress. He might not know all the details just yet, but at the pace you’re going, you two will be back to normal in no time. He knows that Thyme isn’t what she appears to be, and that she said something to you after your family left.

Thyme’s blackmail will end as quickly as it started.

“What was your fear?” Lennox asks Trink, fixing the laces on his shoe.

Trink half-shrugs, “Something stupid, I’m not even that scared of it.”

You resist the urge to contradict her. No one got a full night of sleep last night, which isn’t her fault. Everyone was stuck in their own personal nightmare as soon as they fell asleep. Sucked into a world they thought was under control and torn to shreds immediately because they didn’t make the rules in there.

Let’s just say you didn’t sleep in your bed for long after realizing that you might as well have been back in that coffin. Hard bed, dark room, only your thoughts to accompany you. There’s a sick feeling in your stomach each time you think about going back to bed.

“You don’t have to act tough,” you murmur, causing Lennox, Trink and Blaire to turn in your direction, “I couldn’t even sleep last night.”

“Yeah, we know,” Thyme says, not missing a beat, “You’re so fucking loud.”

You look at her, “Are you sure it wasn’t the sound of your own sobs that woke you up?”

Her face twists, “Don’t you forget--”

“Thyme!” a voice shouts, it’s Laurel. She’s a few steps out of the doorway, “Are you fucking deaf? Let’s get going!”

Thyme shoots you a glare, not finishing her sentence. She gets to her feet, shuffling down the hallway and vanishing behind the Door of Hell.

It’s quiet for a moment, Trink is the one to break the silence, “Forget what?”

You wave your hand, trying to come up with some excuse. Trink will pry, and Lennox will go with it to add peer pressure. You’ve seen it too many times now, with Sydney and Nestor. They are purebred Dauntless, and they will raise the stakes to get what they want.

You need a pacifier, a sacrifice that’s small and insignificant to keep them from pushing later on.

A laugh peels from you, “She found out the fear from yesterday, and she thinks that she’s going to use it against me,” your eyes find Finnick’s, hoping that he catches the subtle hint, “But if I tell you guys, it’ll have no effect, right?”

Trink nods, bobbing her head right next to Lennox. The two of them are so hungry for drama that it hurts. You’re glad to know that you have one humble friend, Blaire tells you that you don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to.

“Oh, it’s okay. I don’t think any of you will get the chance to bury me alive.” you wink at Blaire, who smiles shyly back at you, “It’s one of those things that are ridiculous.”

Trink keeps nodding, “Yours makes me feel so much better about mine,” her face is turning a slight shade of red, “Like, public humiliation is the least of my worries, honestly. Not getting into Dauntless is my big number one.”

“Isn’t it everyone’s?” Blaire sighs.

Lennox lets out a scoff that sounds like a snort, “Not mine, I’m going to trump you losers in the next ranking round.”

You press your lips together, because unless he’s going to magically beat four minutes, he’s not trumping anything. You’re sure that it’s important to be confident in Dauntless, but you can’t imagine how many times people have to eat their words.

And that gives you an idea.

You turn to Lennox, “I bet the remainder of my points that you won’t be number one.”

Blaire sucks in air through his teeth, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Lennox is the epitome of perfection when it comes to Dauntless standards.”

Lennox smirks a little, you know that he won’t turn down the challenge, “How many points?”

“I’m sporting nineteen right now.”

The smirk widens into a grin, “I have twenty.”

You hold your hand out, he takes it without a hint of hesitation. He’s going to get his ass kicked, and he doesn’t even realize. The two of you shake, and when you fall back against the wall, Finnick has a smile too.

“What do you even need twenty more points for?” Trink asks.

“A new wardrobe.”

She lets out a dreamy breath, “Okay, I approve.”

You let out a laugh, which the others join in on.

About fifteen minutes later, Laurel opens the door, letting Thyme out and calling you in, “(Y/n).”

You take your time getting to your feet, thanking your friends when they wish you luck. You’re sure you’re not going to need it, it’s them who will have to worry about the rankings when they come out. You slip past Thyme, the door clicking shut behind you.

“Good afternoon,” you say, heading over to the chair.

“Same to you.” Laurel murmurs, “The needle will go into your arm today.”

You’d prefer that, anyway. Having needles go into your neck is just wrong somehow. All the shots that have ever been delivered to you, have been through your arm. It’s less of a risk of doing permanent damage, besides scarring.

You slip in the chair, face twisting when you realize how warm it is.

“She was sweating,” Laurel comes around the side, syringe in hand, “You’re lucky that I could wipe it down.” You give Laurel a look, and after a moment she cracks a smile, “Sit still and stop mean mugging me.”

You let your head lay against the headrest, curling your toes when her needle breaks skin. The ache in your arm is a lot more forgettable this time, compared to your neck. The pinch is gone quickly, and you watch as she goes to tend to the machine. Once again, you’re left to stare into the empty room.

“You have sixty seconds before it kicks it.”

You don’t bother to tell her that you know already, and the fact that you can feel the effects begin to kick in around fifteen seconds. Unlike yesterday, today your throat squeezes tightly as if you’re having an allergic reaction, making it difficult to breathe. It doesn’t help that the urge to run is beginning to settle in, you grip the arms of the metal chair to keep yourself grounded.

“Remember to breathe,” Laurel’s voice is sounding faraway, a whisper compared to the rapid beating in your chest, “And take your time.”

You want to tell her that you will, but your teeth are glued to each other, mouth dry, and you’re drifting. Once again, you find yourself trying to hold on through the little things. Like how the metal is digging into your palm, and there’s sobbing coming from somewhere.

You fall, head slamming into the ground beneath you. Your face immediately twists, eyes squeezing shut. When you reach to rub the spot, you notice that you’re not confined in a coffin this time, but it is dark enough for you to feel like you’re blind. So, you take it easy while trying to sit up.

The floor beneath you is wood, you can tell because of the paneling. It feels worn, like it hasn’t been replaced in years. And a little uneven, some will dip in the middle, gaps between wood, drop offs that’ll catch the tip of shoes. Almost like the rock flooring in Dauntless, except wood is rare here. Besides the dormitory, the only other place is the training room.

With that, a single light floods the dark room as a reward for cracking the code. The light is on you, once again blinding you. You cover your eyes as you look around, you can see the door to leave is on the right, so you must be sitting where you used to stand during the fights. And if that’s right, then the circle is in front of you.

The light shifts as you raise to your feet, trying to squint through the white. You don’t know what fear this correlates to, but the sick feeling rising in your stomach is telling you not to underestimate the situation. Everything was fine in the last simulation up until you started to become aware of your surroundings.

You shuffle forward, being careful not to snag your shoes on the floorboards. As you get closer to the circle, there’s a familiar smell in the air. The stench is strong, though, enough for your stomach to hurl, pushing you to the edge. You cough to ease the tension in your throat, but it ends in a gag.

Sucking in air through your nose just makes it worse. The smell of blood is normally manageable for you, since it’s always been small or in adrenaline-fueled hazes, but this is different. This is all you can smell, all you can think about. You need to find the source, find who’s bleeding and stop it.

A few more steps, and you come crashing to the world. You slip hard, falling on your ass. The pain in your tailbone is enough to bring tears to your eyes, but you’re more concerned about the pool of blood you’re sitting in. And the person it’s coming from.

His face is tilted away from you, blood soaking his brown hair. You get on your knees so that you can lean over him, hands trembling. He’s pale, his green eyes are staring into the darkness. They quickly flicker to you when you accidentally let out the shaky breath you were holding.

Finnick Odair is bleeding out in the training room.

And you don’t know what to do about it.

His black shirt is stuck to his skin, riding up slightly. You think that the source is his stomach, but there’s no holes or anything. Which makes you think it’s his back, you shouldn’t move him though, right?

“I…” you whisper, he’s waiting on you, he wants you to save him, “I don’t…”

He looks exactly like he did after the fight, when you beat him to near unconsciousness. You can picture the way his head rolled to the side once he was on the wheelchair, Cleo pushing him out. How his eyes stuck with yours until he couldn’t look anymore.

Except, this time he’s bleeding out.

“Okay,” you breathe, even though it’s not, “I’m going to--I’m gonna help.”

You sniff, hands gliding through the air to grab the end of his shirt. You carefully pull it up, trying your best to avoid the red, even though your jeans are already soaked in it. If you took off your clothes, you’d be stained, permanently tinted.

No. No, only temporarily.

The wound is on his stomach, a slit that mimics the one of a knife, making you freeze.

This is what your dad looked light, bleeding out in the factionless streets, all by himself. Hurt, pale, the grey clothes of Abnegation selflessness soaked the angry shade of maroon. And he was dead, curled up and clutching to his wedding ring.

You sob, throat still swollen, the back of your hand pressed to your mouth. You tilt your head back, white light shining in your eyes as you cry. You try to suck in air through your mouth, but the revolting smell of metal and dirt has infiltrated your senses, and you can’t without violently gagging.

A gentle touch startles you out of your train of thought, reminding you that he’s there. Finnick gives you a closed-lipped smile that reaches his eyes. He breathes in through his nose too sharply, triggering him to cough, sending blood out. His face is twisted in pain, you jerk forward to help him lower his head back to the ground.

You need to focus.

“Okay,” you breathe again, tilting your head to the side, “This will hurt.”

And it does. You press your hands to the wound on his stomach, hoping that will be enough to stifle the blood. There’s not much you can do in the first place without a doctor, and that job is normally dedicated to the Erudite. In the meantime, you need to get out of here.

The moment you start breathing deeply, a new problem arises. A second hole that you didn’t see before, further up his chest. But the more you move his shirt, more appears, like the simulation is trying to keep you from saving him. You have to, though, and you will.

You move to take off your shirt, placing it on the--what you now recognize as--bullet holes. You press down on the area with the other hand, since it’s separate from the first. You try to give Finnick a comforting smile, it’s hard to because you don’t know what you’re doing. The pool of blood is just widening, reaching the circle’s white line.

It gets worse, some pain in his leg appears, and then his arm. You can hear him moaning in pain, but there’s only so much you can do. You try to cut off the blood flow, and a wound will appear above it, defeating the purpose, getting you more wet. You’re sure that he should be dead by now.

It’s like he’s a test dummy, seeing how many injuries they can rack up on him. And instead of torturing him, it’s torturing you. You’ve used your belt, and your shirt. His shirt is too risky to take off, and Finnick doesn’t normally wear a belt. And you have both of your hands stopping blood, both of his barely pressing hard anymore, and a leg draped over his thigh as if you’re fucking helping anymore.

All the while his eyes are drooping, and you think he’s saying something to you but you can’t hear him, can’t read his lips through the tears in your eyes. Not to mention, you can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t keep him awake. You can’t fucking help. Why was it you that found him? Why couldn’t someone else have walked in?

“Finnick, please,” your voice is scratchy, throat incredibly sore from the sobs, “Please don’t go, please stay with me.”

His head is rocking from side to side, is he shaking his head? You don’t know, you don’t understand. He can’t leave you, Finnick can’t leave you, not like this. He’ll hate you forever because you can’t fucking save him. All you want to do is save him.

You rock forward, hands sliding when you press your forehead to his collarbone. All you can do is apologize as you clutch onto his shirt. You can feel his arm shift from beneath you, rubbing up your back. You can’t do it, it’s a simple task and you can’t even do it.

“It’s okay.” Finnick’s voice is small, but it cuts through the silence. You raise your head to look at him, he’s got so little time left, “Breathe.”

You let out a sob, hand over your mouth. You don’t think it’s you controlling your body anymore. You think it’s autopilot, because you reach forward and cup his cheek in your right hand. A tear rolls down, creating a streak of cleanliness in a sea of blood on his face.

“Let go.” he whispers.

You jerk forward, suddenly awake in the fear facing room. Your hand is clamped over your mouth to make as little noise as possible, but you can’t help the cry that comes out.

“Three and a half minutes.” Laurel says.

You slide out of the chair, wanting to scream because you don’t care. Five minutes, thirty minutes, one minute, it all feels the same! It feels like you’ve been holding onto dying Finnick for days, pleading for him not to leave you. You’ll be living this woken nightmare for the next few months, and you’re supposed to care that it took you three and a half minutes to get out?

You can’t shake the look that Finnick gave you at the end, the look of knowing. He knew that his time was up, and he opted for you to leave. And the worst part of it all is you don’t even know what fear that was supposed to encompass.

“I’m done,” you say, “I can’t fucking do this anymore, I’m done.”

Laurel lets out a quiet noise, when you look at her, she’s shaking her head, “It gets easier.”

“Easier?” You ask before yelling, “Easier?! I just watched Finnick bleed to death in my arms, how does it get any easier?”

She hushes you, setting the face wires off to the side, “That’s one of your fears, something you need to come to terms with.”

You grit your teeth, “When is Finnick ever going to bleed out? Chocked full of bullet holes with no origin?”

“Fears are typically irrational, you have to know this already.” She reaches for the sleeve on her arm, yanking it up to reveal the mannequin tattoo, “I work with mannequins all day, so tell me why I would feel afraid of them if I already know that they’re harmless?”

You don’t know, how are you supposed to know?

She must not like your silence because she lets out an annoyed sigh. One that you’re all too familiar with, it sounds just like Reed’s sigh. The lecture is coming, “Haven’t you noticed the pattern so far? It’s been two days and I can already tell what you’re afraid of.”

“So tell me.” your voice is hoarse, a side effect from the simulation.

“Maybe you should spend some time trying to figure it out by yourself.”

The problem is that you don’t want to. You’ll already suffer later on tonight, so why should you bother torturing yourself right now? So much is on your plate, and more keeps getting shoved on.

First it’s Caspian finding out that you’re Divergent, second it’s Thyme blackmailing you with it. Then Finnick crawls out of hell and decides that he wants to be friendly again, and you can’t even get help from Caspian because he’s been interfering too much already. And now you’re suffering through your own fears just so you can stay in a faction that--surprise, surprise!--is more ruthless than you initially thought.

And she wants you to spend your time thinking it over.

No. No, if anything, you think you need to get away from here.

You wave your hand, heading for the exit.

“Take the other door, you won’t be disrupted.” she says.

You spin around, heading for the door she’s talking about. It’s on the left wall, in the back corner. Compared to the right, which has the computer that contains your escape from Finnick’s demise.

You shove the door open, letting it slam against the wall on your way out. The hallway is a straight path for a while, there’s no side paths that you can take and it’ll magically bring you back to the others. Not that it matters much, it’s not like you can talk to any of them about it.

Your feet know where to bring you, straight to the same place you go every time there’s a dilemma. You don’t sit against the railing today, there’s no reason to. Finnick’s not here to talk to you, and you’re pretty sure that he’s not going to be out of the simulation for a while. And that’s under the assumption that he’s next.

You close your eyes and rest your head against the wall. The sound of the water is similar to the noise of static, making it easy to numb the mind. You need to seriously make a dent on Finnick before Thyme finds a way to draw him in again. The two of you are tugging at each of his arms, trying to get him to stay long enough to hesitate on going back to the other.

It’s been three days since the final fight, and two days since Thyme has blackmailed you. You want to think that it’s too soon to start pulling harder, especially since the peace has only been recently established, but you also don’t know how much time you have before Thyme comes in.

Plus, it’s not like Finnick has given up on you completely, right? There’s been a few instances where you’ve hit a chink in his armor, and all of them start with you. It’s never been the surface stuff, like the fact that you came from the same place. That can be easily forgotten, the saying ‘faction before blood’ doesn’t come from nowhere.

As soon as you told him that you left your family for him, he broke. And you’ll bet it’s because he knows how much family means to you. After everything that’s happened in your life, the one thing you had going was family, something that you would have never traded, but you did it for him.

It happened again later on, during the fight too. It was the vulnerability of your voice that made him hesitate. He also trailed you into the bathroom that morning, despite being tired. And you’ll bet that he wanted to talk to you, not use the toilet or whatever.

You think you’ve done it, finally cracked the code.

He lives for the real moments, and you’re not talking about the heat of the moment when the two of you are arguing. It’s the softness, no secrets, no guards in front of the palace. The second it all started falling apart was the second you were told you were Divergent.

You and Finnick have never really had a reason to keep secrets from each other.

The sound of someone clicking their tongue fills the air, making you jump slightly. When you open your eyes, you’re met with Sydney and Nestor, both of them staring down at you. Sydney’s pulling her hair into a ponytail, Nestor has his hands shoved into his pockets, leaning back with a ruined posture.

“Are you crying?” Sydney asks, the words are slightly muffled because she doesn’t move her teeth. You think you can see a hair tie in her mouth, which is probably why.

“No,” you say.

The tears dried themselves on the way here.

“Are you sure? Because you’re sitting out here all by yourself.” Sydney speaks normally.

“Looked like you were having a moment.” Nestor agrees.

“Haha.” you roll your eyes, getting to your feet, “What do you two want?”

Nestor half-shrugs, “Banding together a party. Ameer found some alcohol in the kitchen.”

You press your lips together, not sure which part of this story you don’t like, “Found it?”

“Ameer has sticky fingers, Mirza knows how to get in,” Sydney says, “If it helps, Maarja and a bunch of other older siblings will be there.”

You tilt your head, a sour face coming on, “Are you sure that Ameer wants me there?”

Nestor lets out a laugh, “Ameer doesn’t care, he’s probably forgotten about your argument already. Same goes for Mirza, the two of them don’t get hung up. They give it up, forget, and forgive. It’s their whole motto.”

“Which is lucky for you, because Maarja knows how to throw bomb ass parties.” Sydney says, “We just need to know whether or not Finnick should come.”

“Thyme’s already out of the question, no one wants to deal with her.”

“She’s going to know something’s up.” you say.

Sydney shrugs, “So? What’s she going to do about it?”

They’re right, as long as your name isn’t connected to the party in any way, you can’t be blamed for the fact she wasn’t invited. However, Finnick is another story. She might think you’re the one that wanted him there.

“Finnick is okay to come, but I can’t be the one to invite him. It has to be Blaire or something.”

“We gotcha covered, we’ll pass on the message.”

Sydney grabs your upper arm, pulling you with them, “In the meantime, we’re gonna drop you off with the others.”

“The others?” you ask.

“Maarja and them, they think that you’re going to help out and get shit done since you’re from Abnegation,” Sydney says, “And we tried to tell them it was a stereotype but they said it’s worth a try.”

You can’t help but laugh, this is exactly the type of behavior that you’d expect from them. Pick at the stereotypes and hope for the best, they never really think things through. Yet, they’re in charge of important jobs like security and the entire army.

God, is Dauntless ridiculous.

“I mean, I guess they were right.” You laugh, Sydney cracks a grin.

She slaps your upper back, “That’s the spirit! The more people you please, the more people will like you.”

“Or they’ll keep going to you for help, one or the other.” Nestor shrugs.

“And by the way, we were going to invite you either way, help or not. Maarja just wanted to push her luck.”

“I don’t mind, seriously.”

And you don’t, because this is what Dauntless is all about. The ziplining, the fighting, facing your fears, and going to parties. You rinse and repeat the next day, and it’s just like this, over and over for the rest of your life. This is why you’re here, this is why you can’t quit.

Your two friends bring you down a series of hallways, straight to a single door. Sydney pushes it open with her hip, opening out one of your arms, as if she’s telling you to marvel. There’s not much to be amazed at, so you shoot her a questioning look.

She cracks, her laughter echoing through the large room. She catches the attention of the older siblings, they turn their bodies so that they can see. Sydney holds up a hand, “It’s just us, (Y/n) said she’d help out.”

Maarja cheers.

The floors in this room are wood, the walls rock and stone. Basically like the training room, except this room is much smaller, brighter, and there’s only one exit. You guess that makes it an easy way to lock up, but it’s definitely a fire hazard. You can’t imagine the last time anyone has been in here, though.

“I knew you’d help,” she smiles, “Do you think your Abnegation friend will too?”

“He hasn’t even been invited yet, Maar.” Sydney says.

“And he’s not exactly the selfless type, anyway.” you slide your hands into your pockets, “Hated it there.”

She shrugs, “Whatever, bring him anyway.”

You crack a smile, “So what do you need help with?”

“Everything, but shit will start coming in one at a time. We should be done before dinner.” Maarja looks past you, “Keep taking people, will you?”

“Sure.” Sydney begins backing up, “Good luck, (Y/n).”

You don’t need luck, because spending time with Maarja and the others isn’t nearly as bad as Sydney and Nestor makes it out to be. They’re fun to be around, they know how to break someone out of their shell if they’re shy. In no time, the lot of you are laughing, tears in your eyes as you change lightbulbs and set up speakers for music.

You can definitely see the resemblance between Sydney and Maarja, they’re sisters through and through. Of course, they look a lot like each other, but they also have the same laugh, the desire to be on the edge of danger all the time. Sydney had stood on the edge of that building, and Maarja stands at the top of her ladder on her toes, with no one to steady the bottom.

They playfully fight, as all siblings do in Dauntless, and bounce back as if hurtful words were nothing. If you tried half of this with Reed, you would have been scolded. Mox might have been easier, but it would have never been this fun. Mox and Reed are alike in most ways--more than you will ever know, according to Caspian--but you and Finnick are closer.

You guess it’s the age gap that does it. Mox and Reed are only two years apart, Maarja and Sydney are one and a half, you and Finnick are the same. Compared to Mox, who’s three years older, and Reed who’s five. It doesn’t seem like a gap, but it really is. Plus, all three of you have managed to have different childhoods, you can’t imagine what’s in store for Alyssum.

It’s weird to picture you and Finnick as siblings, though. The two of you don’t fight like that, don’t talk to each other like that. You wouldn’t exactly call each other polar opposites, either. However, you guess that definition fits better. You see the things he doesn’t, and he sees the things that you don’t.

“You know what they say about polar opposites,” Daziel says, he’s Lennox’s older brother.

He’s got the exact same looks as Lennox, with the brown hair and brown eyes. He’s taller than Lennox, but shorter than Horace. When he laughs, it’s childish, yet there’s an edge to him. He leans forward as he talks, like he’s always delivering some sort of threat.

Because of him, you’ve noticed that there’s two ends to Dauntless. The first side is like Maarja, carfree, party hard, laugh as loudly as you can and have fun because this is your youth. On the other side is Daziel, intense, scary, probably guards the walls or patrols the factionless areas, and he talks quietly because he knows that the room will fall quiet to hear. Everyone else, besides them, falls somewhere in-between.

If you were to put Daziel and Lennox together, you’d go ahead and say that they’re siblings. Their personalities don’t come close to each other--although, you do have a suspicion that Lennox looks up to Daziel, which explains the behavior--but they aren’t the same person. And yet, they were born a year apart, which contradicts what you said earlier.

You suppose that every statement has an anomaly to make it false, right?

“What do they say?” you ask. You’re currently crouched down to the floor, opening a water bottle. You’ve been trying to get the speaker to work for five minutes now, you’re sure that Trink would be better at this than you.

Torrac, Nestor’s brother, says, “They attract.”

It doesn’t take a genius to decipher that one.

You roll your eyes, drinking the water. Like Daziel, Torrac looks a lot like Nestor, except he’s shorter. He doesn’t have that same bad posture either, and his voice is a whole lot deeper. On the spectrum that you made, he’d be closer to Maarja than Daziel.

“No, I’m serious.” Torrac stops, “It happens a lot. Sydney and Nestor weren’t always dating--”

“Much less, friends.” Maarja mutters.

“--but suddenly they came to some middle ground and started dating. Now there’s almost no difference between them. They balance each other out.” Torrac finishes.

There’s a long silence between you all, allowing actual work to get done. You get the speaker to work, and after that Daziel thinks it’s funny to speak into the mic and not help out. It’s a little annoying at first, but once Maarja cracks, you and Torrac aren’t that far behind.

“You know, you talk about Finnick a lot.” Maarja says, “Are you sure you don’t have some sort of crush on him?”

“Are you kidding?” Daziel doesn’t give you a chance to answer, “Lennox says Finnick talks shit about her all the time.”

You were right when you said that Lennox is hungry for drama.

“I think you missed the part where she said that they were like this--” she crosses her fingers, one over the other, “--besides, a lot of people hate each other and then get together. Torrac literally said that ten minutes ago. Do you have cotton for brains?”

Daziel, who still holds the microphone, says, “You are the one that nearly killed yourself because you didn’t know how to harness yourself correctly. Please, keep talking.”

Maarja points her finger at him, which quickly changes into the middle finger. After that, she looks over at you, “Anyway, do you have a crush?”

You shrug, shaking your head, “No…?”

“Oh, she’s unsure!” Torrac says, he’s smiling.

“It’s official, (Y/n) has a crush on Finnick.” Daziel’s words echo loudly, “A stiff likes a stiff, why am I not surprised?”

“It’s not like that,” you say, looking to Maarja for help.

“You’ve just never thought about him like that before?” she says, you nod, “Well, congrats on your awakening, good luck.”

You open your mouth for a sarcastic response, but the door opens. The four of you look up and over to see Finnick, Ameer, Blaire and Horace. They’re all carrying different objects, with the exception of Finnick, who looks like he just came from facing his fears.

“We brought the goods.” Ameer says, holding two bottles of alcohol by the neck.

“Over here.” Torrac says, motioning them over, “Finnick, you can join (Y/n).”

You don’t like the wink that Torrac sends you, but the wolf whistle that Daziel lets loose into the microphone is worse. You cap the water bottle in your hand before hurling it at him. He has enough time to dodge, laughter filling the air.

“Hey, Finn.” You stand, he’s coming into the room, heading towards you, “Maarja is the one on the ladder, she’s Sydney’s older sister. Torrac is the one setting up the tables, related to Nestor, and,” you shoot a glare at Daziel, who gives you a bright smile, “the dumbass on the mic is Lennox’s monkey brother, Daziel.”

“They’re all older siblings?” Finnick asks.

“Yeah, they’re cool. Daziel’s on thin fucking ice.”

“I can tell,” he smiles, “Have you been here all day? Trink’s looking for you.”

“Yeah, Sydney and Nestor found me. Did Trink say what she needed?”

He shrugs, stopping next to you. He takes a look around the room, “Doesn’t look like much of a party.”

“We still have a long way to go,” Maarja agrees, she’s coming down the ladder again, “I think we just need to remove a few more bulbs and cover up the windows. Torrac can set up the tables with Blaire…” she trails off for a moment, looking at Ameer, “Hey, that’s not all you took, right?”

Ameer scoffs, “Of course not. Mirza’s taking more and he’ll be over with Lennox. I have to find a way to get us snack food, though.”

“We’ll have some chocolate cake, I know that for sure.” Horace says.

Maarja snaps, “That’s right. Okay, so snacks won’t matter, just drinks.”

“And we’ve got that covered.” Ameer is heading towards the door with Horace, “See you guys in a few.”

“Thanks!” Maarja says, she then turns towards you and Finnick, “You two work together to pull out lightbulbs.”

“Sure,” you push Finnick forward, “He’ll be the one on the ladder, though.”

“I thought you got over your fear of heights?” Maarja asks, Blaire briefly looks up from his table.

“Chicken shit.” Daziel says.

You ignore him, “I don’t feel like risking my life today.”

And you’re not lying, because you honestly don’t feel like standing on the top of the ladder like Maarja was. But the moment you see Finnick start going up, you begin picturing him standing at the top, falling, cracking his head and bleeding out on the floor, and you change your mind.

You grab the end of his shirt, “Get down.”

“What?” he asks, his face twists as he looks you over.

“Get down, I’ll go up,” you say.

“I can do it, if you don’t want to. It’s not a problem for me.”

“I know that, just... get down, please.”

He gives you a weird look, getting down. You head up the ladder, ignoring the screaming in your head. If you fall, Finnick will probably be able to catch you, but not the other way around. And you’d much rather take the chance, anyway, because he’s still recovering from the beating you gave him.

Finnick holds the ladder while you unscrew the light bulbs. When you ask Maarja how she expects all of these to get back in, she shrugs and says it’s not her problem. They plan on leaving the bulbs in a box by the door. You don’t bother to mention anything about someone stumbling along and turning on the colored lights.

Finnick does, and he’s immediately met with Daziel’s criticism.

“You know, the older siblings are typically the smarter ones,” Finnick starts, he has to look over his shoulder to see Daziel, “It’s nice to know that you’re helping Lennox break the standards.”

You can see the sarcastic smile Finnick gives Daziel, you can’t help the giggle that leaves you. Daziel mocks it into the microphone, “Shut up and work.”

“You should be on one of these ladders, actually,” Maarja says, “You’re the tallest out of us.”

Daziel shrugs, not moving from where he sits.

“What did Daziel place in the final rankings?” Blaire asks.

“Like, fifth or something,”

“That’s not hard to believe.” Finnick mutters.

The room slowly comes together, with the lightbulbs out and the windows covered, the atmosphere is already setting in. There’s a row of tables along one wall that’s covered in the food that keeps coming, and Daziel gets up to start mixing the alcohol into other juices with Torrac and Lennox.

At some point, the only job left is to wait for the cake and start retrieving the only people that don’t know how to get to the room--Trink, Eytelle and Allio. Everyone else is on their own time schedule, and they look right at home when they enter. It’s always in clusters of three to four, with brightly colored hair and piercings that catch the light.

Maarja takes the microphone from Daziel and hides it somewhere. Then, she starts to play music somehow, none of which you and Finnick are familiar with. Music is typically only for enjoyment, so that was out of the question in Abnegation. Plus, you thought it was supposed to be an Amity-exclusive thing to listen to, anyway.

The tempo is typically upbeat, and if the artist isn’t screaming the words, then you can understand it fairly well. It isn’t long before Finnick has blended into the crowd, singing along to the repeated chorus and bouncing around. You watch him for a while, standing off to the side with Maarja as she watches the scene she created.

“Have you ever been to a party before?”

“Dinner parties with the neighbors.” you tell her.

“Dinner what?” Daziel shouts, leaning forward.

“Dinner parties! You guys probably don’t have those very often,” the looks on their faces makes you stop, “or at all, I guess. We all eat in the same room so it’s a foreign concept to you.”

“Not to me! I know what you’re talking about.” Trink nods, “Normally you invite someone over from a different house and cook for them. Sometimes they bring food so that they don’t feel awkward.”

You motion to Trink, “Except, in Abnegation it’s a custom to bring a few dishes. To let the entire other family cook would be extremely rude.”

Maarja and Daziel look vaguely horrified, “Okay, what do you do at those parties?”

“Eat, but you can’t talk about yourself. And typically gossip is rude, unless you know the family you’re eating with, really well.” you say, “You could always run the risk of someone else hearing, and reputation is very important.”

Trink’s twirling her hair around her finger, “Intelligent conversations, mostly. My family would have competitions to see who could come up with inventions that could improve lifestyle. I always won.”

Daziel stands up straight, “You two are incredibly boring.”

“How are your factions not getting along? Like, seriously?”

“Power.” you say, Trink’s bobbing her head in agreement.

Somewhere in the middle of the crowd, you spot Finnick motioning to you. You tilt your head, beginning to shake no, but Daziel shoves you forward, “Go get him!”

“I don’t dance.” you say, “It’s self-indulgent in Abnegation.”

“It’s a good time to learn, you’ll be doing a lot of it in Dauntless.” Maarja says, she then leans forward on your shoulders, talking in your ear, “Have a drink, if you’re really that nervous.” She pats you once or twice as encouragement, letting go.

You sigh, dragging your feet as you go to find Finnick. He’s easy to lose in the crowd, since he’s just as tall as the rest of them. Still, you manage to catch a glimpse of his hair in the purple light, eyes locking with his. He moves forward slightly, hand extended to you. You slip your hand in his, and instantly get yanked forward.

It’s too loud to just speak normally here, so he leans down, “I figured out the trick, it’s just a bunch of jumping.”

He backs away, joining the crowd’s rhythm, a smile on his face. You stare at him, not moving at first, so he grabs a hold of your hands and starts moving them like a puppeteer.

“Come on, (Y/n)! Feel the music!” he laughs, forcing you to twirl.

You want to tell him no, but you’ve already done a lot in Dauntless that you never pictured yourself doing. You’ve broken so many boundaries, disobeyed everything you’ve learned in Abnegation, and you’re refusing to dance? You ziplined off a building, hung hundreds of feet in the air, and you can’t do this?

You know, there’s a lot of things that you couldn’t do today, but this is something you can do. As long as it keeps that smile on Finnick’s face. If it stays, then you think you can do this.

“Okay!” you agree, waiting a beat or two before beginning to bounce too.

Finnick’s laughter fills the air, and for the first time in your life, you finally notice the butterflies. Light, swarming, and suffocating. You laugh too, holding onto his hands a little tighter. This is how it should be between you.

You’ve got a hold of Finnick again, and you’re never going to let go. Thyme can try to get in the way, but she won’t succeed. Finnick’s yours, he’s always been yours. By the time the rankings come out, she’ll be gone. Finnick will know your secrets, and he’ll help make sure that they don’t get out.

His smile fades a little, hand tilting your face up, “What’s wrong?”

You hadn’t even realized that you stopped smiling, “Nothing.” you grab his hand, squeezing it, “I’ll tell you later.”

Finnick gives you a look, “Promise?”

You won’t ruin tonight. You’ll tell him tomorrow if you can.

You beam, “Promise.”

It’s so painfully obvious that something went on last night. Every single initiate, with the exception of Thyme, is dragging their feet. A few people act like they turned into vampires overnight when they wince at bright lights and loud noises. Others are just in irritable moods in general, hungover from the alcohol.

Thyme is still sour from yesterday, you think, so there’s that. However, when you all came into the dormitory at three in the morning, she exploded. She didn’t yell, she managed to keep her voice level, but it was like all of you were in an interrogation.

One of the Dauntless-borns had said something to her along the lines of, “Shut the fuck up, this is why you weren’t invited.” and it worked. Thyme just glared daggers at the back of their head as they trudged their way to the bathroom. Now that you think about it, it might have been Lennox.

You also may have forgotten to mention an important detail about the dormitory now--it’s now occupied by the Dauntless-borns too. As it’s been said a hundred times before already, your groups had been kept apart. Now they’re combined, there’s four new bunk beds, and you get the pleasure of listening to Lennox and Sydney bicker in the mornings.

Anyway, Thyme went to bed after making a fuss with Finnick. He didn’t say much to her at all at first, then she wore on his patience--as she always does--and he snapped and told her to leave him alone. He was just invited to it, it’s not like he controlled the guest list. It was run by a bunch of the older Dauntless siblings.

And Thyme went, “Like who?”

Which made, literally everyone, point to either Sydney, Nestor, or towards the bathroom, where Lennox had disappeared inside of. Three people she doesn’t know, and therefore had no chance to actually build up some sort of friendship. It did raise the question on how Finnick got in, which was quickly answered by Blaire.

And, as if the salt wasn’t already bad enough, Cass went ahead and said, “Just face it Thyme, you’re fucking unlikable.”

A line with such irony, since the Amity are supposed to be the most liked. Yet here, she’s the most hated. Anyone could go ahead and say that Dauntless just hated Amity, and by default, Abnegation too. But then they’d have to explain why, especially since a former Abnegation is helping lead Dauntless, and you and Finnick are good in the books too.

Anyway, you can confidently say that Thyme is pissed. She’s been giving you a few looks every now and then, which is your fault because you’re the only other person that hasn’t been a complete asshole today. It’s weird to see, you came back with the rest of them, a little buzzed too. You shouldn’t be as on-top of it as you have been this morning.

You think it might have something to do with the adrenaline. To be completely honest, you don’t remember falling asleep, and each time you think of talking to Finnick, your stomach flips. Most of it has something to do with the fact of telling him you’re Divergent, but the other…

“Thyme.” Laurel says, hanging out of the door.

Thyme doesn’t move from her spot in the hallway, eyes on you, “Can you call someone else in?”

“No.” Laurel says, “You’ve had a shitty attitude all day, I want you over with. Get in here.”

Today also happened to be the day where gun training resumed. So, the first thing you got to do this morning was shoot. A lot of people complained, namely the ones who drank too much, but Caspian and Laurel were thoroughly enjoying themselves. You guess that the party was no secret, and you can’t really be surprised. The music just seemed to get louder the more time went on.

Not to mention when Maaja started playing popular songs, and the sing-alongs started. You swear that you’ve never heard a crowd yell that loud, drinks protruding into the air, swaying, harmonious. You and Finnick didn’t know what to do besides watch in awe.

Thyme gets to her feet, purposely kicking your ankle. You dig your nails into your palm, staring after her. Once the door swings shut, conversation takes over, forgetting her immediately.

“Does anyone remember how we got back?” Sydney asks, her hair is tied up messily, it looks like she got dressed in the dark.

“We walked back in a crowd.” you say, Cass immediately nods.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Cass agrees.

“I wish someone could tell me how much I drank.” Lennox groans, leaning his head back onto the wall.

You could probably tell him, but you think you stopped counting after three. Plus, you think he likes the attention he gets from Trink in response, how she immediately leans into him with a coo.

“We have to plan another party, right after initiation,” Ameer says.

Mirza nods, “We probably won’t be able to get as much alcohol as we did, but if we start taking some now…”

“I wouldn’t push it, we’re lucky we got any at all. Caspian had to pull some real strings.” Nestor says, earning two agreements from Sydney and Lennox.

“Wait,” you say, “Caspian helped?”

“Yeah!” Cass sits up straighter, “He’s the one that started the tradition, after all.”

You share a look with Finnick, “Why am I not surprised?”

“Caspian would start something like that.” Finnick laughs, you join in.

“Is Thyme always like that?” Horace asks.

There’s a lot of nodding, “Yeah, pretty much.”

“It’s a good thing she wasn’t invited, then.” Cass says.

“You can thank (Y/n) for that,” Sydney tucks some of her hair behind her ear.

Finnick gives you a glance, and for some reason, you remember that you need to talk to him. The only problem is that Thyme is obviously on your tail, so it might not be the smartest idea to talk to him just yet.

While the others talk about the party, you lean to the left, into Finnick. He leans back, already knowing what’s going on. He tilts his head a certain way, offering his ear to you. It’s a habit for the two of you, never listening to the Abnegation ideals. Abnegation says not to disturb others, which is typically interpreted as silence, Finnick finds a way to speak quietly. It took a couple of weeks for you to master, but you’re just as good as he is.

“I think we should cool it for a little while.” you watch his face, the crease appearing between his eyebrows, “I don’t want to upset Thyme, and after last night, she’s definitely pissed.”

“So when?” he asks back, it’s his turn to watch you.

You press your lips together and shrug, “A couple of days?”

A warning look.

“I promised.” you remind him.

He nods, sitting up. It doesn’t look like any of the others noticed the brief conversation. Which would be good, but it’s not like it matters anymore. Everyone saw you with Finnick last night, and you two hardly left each other’s sides. You’ll be lucky if they don’t say anything to Thyme, especially since you haven’t told them what’s happening between you and her.

Slowly but surely, one by one, you all get called into the room, with the previous person coming out. When Thyme comes out again, you criss-cross your legs, and watch as she gets to Ameer before his leg shoots out to trip her. She barely catches herself, and doesn’t even dignify Ameer with a look.

However, you all know she’s fuming when the laughter starts.

About eight people later, the only people left are you, Sydney, Lennox, Cass and Blaire. The conversation isn’t so much about the party anymore, and more so about what you think of their siblings. You had been left with them for four hours by yourself, you got the authentic experience.

Honestly, they aren’t all that bad. For Dauntless members, they’re pretty chill. The only intense one was Daziel, but it wasn’t all the time. Blaire is glad to know that he’s not the only one that thinks that. You go ahead and tell them about the microphone and most of the things that he said while he was in control. And then you inflate Lennox’s ego a little bit by saying he’s definitely the smarter one.

Sydney is proud to know that you think she has a cool older sister. She says that she’ll pass on the word, because there’s no way in hell that Maarja hasn’t grown attached to you in some way. As for Torrac, there’s not much to say, besides he was the most level-headed one, and he shares a close resemblance with Nestor.

“But would you hang out with them again?” Lennox asks.

“Oh yeah, for sure.”

Ameer comes out of the room, keeping you from going any further. Laurel points at you, gives a big motion for you to go after her, and then disappears into the room.

“We’ll see you later.” Cass says.

You give them a smile, rising to your feet. Ameer looks like a zombie when you pass him, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was in some sort of autopilot mode. You gently push the door shut behind you, heading toward the chair. Laurel lets out a breath of air.

“How’d you like your first Dauntless party?” she says, you can see her preparing the syringe.

“It was exactly how I expected it to be.”

She laughs, “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure I saw you having fun.”

Your eyes flash to her, “You were there?”

“In the corner, I was there for Caspian. He couldn’t make it.”

“Leader business?” you guess, sitting in the chair.

“Something like that,” she comes around the side. You offer up your arm for her, she slides the needle in and slowly presses down on the plunger. “I need you to focus for a moment, okay?”

You nod.

“Let’s say you have twelve fears, about four to six of those will come out in the second stage, and the other half or so will stay hidden until the final stage. There’s a good chance that your fears will start repeating, since we still have a week and a half of initiation left.”

You don’t have the heart to tell her that you can’t focus on her face for more than a second. You know that the simulations are hallucinations, but this is a pre-hallucination hallucination. There’s little black objects zipping across her body, and the urge to reach out and grab one is strong.

You are hearing what she’s saying, though.

“You’re going to get a lot of practice in with the fears that do repeat, but you’ll be left in the dark when the final stage comes around, because all those hidden fears will reveal themselves.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” you murmur, you think you’re going to be motion sick. The jolt from setting your head against the headrest, is enough to make you want to puke.

“It is. There are advantages, especially for people like you.”

“That’s phrased like an insult.”

Most families in Abnegation are religious, it’s part of the traditional family roles stereotype. It was never that way for yours, and after your parents died, the idea was buried with them. You like to think that hell isn’t real, then shit like this happens. You’re staring face to face with Laurel, who no longer has eyes, just black holes and tiny black dots coming and going as they please.

With that, you’ve decided that you won’t try and fight off the simulation.

You think you hear Laurel say something back. The words don’t sound like they’re in your language, much less coherent. And really, that is the least of your concerns, mainly because you blink and the scenery changes around you. You’re inside of an empty tank, which is, of course, inside of a dark room.

You let out a huff of air, getting to your feet, “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

There’s no one around you this time, no dirt to come raining down. You shift on your feet for a while, calves incredibly sore from all the jumping. Torrac had set up no chairs, claiming that no one would want to sit down, anyway. He must’ve forgotten that he had six inexperienced partiers inside of the room.

Needless to say, getting down from the top bunk was, most certainly, your own personal nightmare.

A tickling sensation ghosts over your ankle, making you absentmindedly lift your other foot to itch through your jeans. The feeling leaves for a few seconds, before quickly returning. It’s not just your right leg anymore, though, it’s both, and it kinda hurts. When you look down to see where it’s coming from, you see why.

A scream rips through your throat, loud and raw. It’s been less than a second, and tears have already appeared in your eyes. You can’t escape this box, yet you slam your hands against the walls anyway.

Spiders coat the floor, hundreds of them, of all different sizes, climb up anything possible, including your jeans. On top, underneath, the floor, the walls. You slap a shaky hand over your mouth, sobbing through your fingers, struggling to breathe.

You try to dodge them, kick them off. In an adrenaline rush, you try brushing them off your jeans but end up making it worse when they hang off your arms. They jump, attach themselves to your shirts, staring up at you.

“No!” You scream, stomping to get them off, “No, please!”

A strike of pain goes through your arm, a red welt immediately forming. You can hardly see, hardly breathe, anymore as you brush them off. This is worse, this is so much worse. You brush off the spiders that you can’t, and you’re forced to watch them crawl up your body in front row seating.

The lightheadedness only gets worse with the hyperventilation. You lean against an empty part of the wall to keep yourself upright. You need to get out. You need out. You need to leave.

You close your eyes and grit your teeth hard enough for them to squeak. With your head leaned up toward the ceiling, you try to breathe normally. You’re going to get out now. You don’t care how quick it is, you want out immediately. It hurts, the spiders bite, and you think it’s starting to itch.

“Please.” you moan, the inhales through your nose are full of snot. A shudder runs down your spine when you feel a spider coming up, “Please…”

And just as it comes up your neck, heading straight for your chin, you wake in the metal chair.

“One minute--”

Your scream cuts her off.

ANTERIC IS A SPIN-OFF DIVERGENT AU //MASTERLIST//

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bondsmagii · 3 years ago

Note

I’m rereading Vicious and after knowing everything about Vengeful everything that Eli did on vicious makes so much sense.

The first time I read Vicuous I always wondered what exactly went through Eli’s head, what was he thinking? When he looked for Victor when Victor was about to replicate his experiment? Was Eli concerned about Victor or was Eli was acting for selfish reasons? What was he thinking and feeling after he got his powers? What was he thinking when Victor attacked him and why was he so quick to think Victor was a devil in disguise? What was his last thought when he was about to become an Eo and how does it relate to healing? What was his thought process when he was trying to give up his life to god and when he decided that killing EOS was the “right” thing to do?

And after reading Vengeful everything becomes so much clearer, his last thought was probably about how he wanted to be “healed and saved” he internalized so some much religious trauma that it affected the way he acted and his thogught porcess, he witnessed his mother suicide on a bathtub and that’s probably why he chose that method both times before and after becoming an EO, his father used to beat him as a kid because he supposedly “had the devil in him” and he does feels like one through his life, doing his best to act as “normal” as possible.

His mother death also explains why he was so worried about Victor and even in the first book Eli talks very fondly of him even referring to him as his best friend and he explains to Serena he thinks Victor died and something sinister replaced him after becoming an EO and this conclusion although rash, it make sense he would try to rationalize and in a way justify the awful things that Victor did after turning into an EO.

And even in vengeful he started imagining Victor to kept him company when he was going through hell, he admits to himself that Victor was the only person who ever truly “saw” him and understood him, pretty much confirming that the “rivalry” Victor and Eli had was mostly one-sided and Eli really did loved him and consider him his best friend.

This also explains his weird behavior towards Victor when Vic himself was trying to turn himself into an EO, Eli witnessed his mother death and probably didn’t wanted the same to happen to Victor after Eli himself almost died trying to recreate it.

The first book also explains that he tried to take his life a second time after Victor got arrested begging for God to take away his power if it had been a mistake, he seemed to externalize all of this negative experience and feelings through his purpose of exterminating the EOS because he sincerely believed that was the right thing to do, his faith although horribly used and mishandled seemed to be genuine based on how we was him literally begging to god to take his life back if everything had been a mistake.

Everyone one of his actions seem to be driven by his childhood and religious trauma and it’s incredible sad to me, he wan’t a sociopath or a psychopath he was just very broken and delusional individual.

And his experience with Serena who forced herself into him also didn’t helped the whole “EOS are devils in disguise” perspective , even since I read the first book (when I didn’t knew anything about Eli yet) I was very repulsed by what Serena was doing to him, to the point that even though I greatly disliked Eli at first I kind of hated Serena more for what she was doing to him. I am also a little disappointed in how the fandom barely acknowledges that what Serena did to Eli was incredibly wrong and messed up.

I have already said this, but the fandom seems to treat Eli very unkindly, they brush over all of his story and just label him as a “sociopath” or “psychopath” barely understanding and completely missing the point of why he behaved the way that he did.

I don’t mind if people hate his character, I did so at first, but the way everyone brush over all of his trauma and the way people completely misinterpreted his character and actions don’t set up right with me.

It’s a little surprising how people can praise Serena, Victor and Marcella despite their awful actions while they hate on Eli for the same reason, overall Eli seems to have been the one to receive the shorter end of the stick by the fandom.

honestly I've read this so many times because you're so right and it's such a relief to know that somebody else out there is capable of critical thinking skills lmao. I think the problem with people's response to Eli is that they think his backstory is an excuse, when in actual fact it's an explanation. go figure, kids who grow up in abusive households will turn into adults with a boatload of issues, and some of those issues are more likely than not going to cause harm of their own. it's totally possible to be both a victim and someone who causes harm; yes, Eli thinks he's in the right, but his actions are still wrong. it's possible to understand both of these things and it's possible to still like his character and sympathise with him, while still understanding that damn, he maybe needs to chill on the serial killing.

it wouldn't bother me as much if people didn't think that Victor was absolutely innocent. people seem to revere him, and it's because in the narrative he's set up as Eli's opposite. the whole point of the story is that there's no good men in the game, but because Victor wants to stop Eli, people see him as the good guy and overlook how cruel he was to Eli throughout their entire friendship, and also how cruel he is to the others. (Mitch is probably the only one there of his own free will. Sydney was an injured 12-year-old child when Victor picked her up, and he did so only because she had information that he wanted -- his first thought was to torture it out of her, but when she gave it willingly and kind of hero-worshipped him in the way a neglected child would hero-worship their saviour, he decided she could stay. Dominic is there by force, because he's a disabled man in constant chronic agony that Victor fixes with his EO abilities, and if he does something to displease Victor or leaves him, Victor has threatened to bring the pain back even worse.) people rewrite both Eli and Victor's personalities to fit this, with Eli being cast as this unfeeling psychopath and Victor the person standing up to his evil, and in actual fact Eli is absolutely not a psychopath -- he's a traumatised adult recovering from a highly abusive childhood -- and Victor is not standing up to evil; he's settling a score. a score he kind of started in the first place, by being a jealous asshole towards Eli's thesis, trying to dominate it because his own sucked, seeking glory off the back of Eli's hard work, and then when he succeeded in his goals and became an EO, immediately murdering Eli's girlfriend and torturing Eli because he was jealous Eli's idea was correct. like, Victor Vale is a little bitch, on god. the reason it ended like this was because he was a god-awful friend to Eli, who was literally Victor's only true friend because he was the only person who would put up with him. go figure that the only person who could deal with Victor's behaviour was a grown abused child. nobody who hadn't been indoctrinated into believing that behaviour was acceptable would ever voluntarily deal with Victor.

literally every decision and action Eli takes can be traced back to his trauma, but go figure that nobody on this website can treat trauma with the nuance it deserves. people on this site seem to think that if you're traumatised you're always innocent and vulnerable; if anyone acts outside of this idea, they're written off. I take Eli's treatment very personally because I've seen people quite literally do this to real life people, myself included. because I wasn't a quiet, easy-to-deal-with traumatised person, I got all kinds of shit. it's the exact same with Eli. because he acts badly, because he does bad things, people seek to dehumanise him and set him aside because he apparently makes abuse survivors look bad or whatever -- when in actual fact acting badly is a very common response among abuse survivors, because we were brought up in an environment where that was normal and we don't know otherwise. not to mention the fact that the kind of mental illness Eli shows -- PTSD, mainly -- has many symptoms that make for unpleasant actions. it's not a crime to show the impact these things have, but people take it so personally. I've even seen people say it's ableist to portray characters like Eli because it gives people with trauma or mental illness a bad name, but no. that's literally not how it works. people with trauma and people with mental illness act badly, they fuck up, they can abuse people, sometimes they do harm or even kill people. ignoring this isn't going to get us anywhere, and if anything's ableist, it's looking at a clearly traumatised, mentally ill person and saying that he's a psychopath and evil and irredeemable. like, come on.

Eli didn't catch a single break for his whole life. everyone he's ever met has abused him horribly. you don't have to like him, but the people who can look at this and see nothing sympathetic about him? genuinely I don't trust them.

#long post #vicious #vengeful #anon #asks

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a-froger-epic · 4 years ago

Text

About the Interview

Since I posted the interview with J - a woman who has described herself to me as one of Queen’s first “groupies” - there has naturally been a lot of discussion about the veracity of the interview, the source, and my own motivations in posting it. I fully expected that, and I will say once more that nobody (apart from a small handful of anonymous trolls) has behaved inappropriately in these discussions. I have not received any “hate” because of this. There is no “drama”. Nobody is wrong, or a party-pooper, or attacking me by expressing their doubts. I have seen some awful bile spat at people anonymously recently, and that kind of behaviour has got to stop.

Now, if you don't think I am genuine, there is obviously nothing I can do about that.

However, what I am hoping to do here is add as much transparency as I can in regard to how and why the interview happened, and also share my own full thoughts on it with you.

First things first. No unverified, anonymous source can be seen as definitive proof of anything, ever. That is my stance. I have myself been criticised for so much as suggesting that other anonymous sources tied in with Freddie’s history are not 100% proof of one thing or another. But for me, an anonymous source can never mean more than at best: this seems very likely, but we can’t be 100% certain.

Perhaps I was naive to think that what I considered to be enough of a disclaimer at the beginning of the interview, was enough. My intention was to express that while I, personally, believe J to be a) the person she says she is and b) genuine about what she remembers, that does not mean I believe everything she has told me is fact or happened in that exact way. I thought this was obvious. Perhaps I was unclear, and I apologise for that.

So let me be clear. There is nobody in the world who has perfect, factual recollections of what happened to them almost 50 years ago. Not even J herself claims for one moment that this is the case. She mentions several times that these are old memories from when she was very young, that she indulged in recreational drugs at the time, and that her views - of course - carry a personal bias. All this, I thought, would be enough for readers to know not to take everything they read at face value.

All of the above is why I kept my own thoughts and notes to a minimum within the interview, why I didn’t correct or point out obvious mistakes. I simply assumed that everybody would go away and read the interview against all the sources and information they already have, as I have done myself.

But maybe that was somewhat irresponsible of me, and I should have been the first person to dig into how J’s memories fit in (or don’t) with the information which is already out there, and how to put the two together. While I refrained from sharing all my thoughts alongside the interview (although I have fragmentally done so in response to other people since), others like @quirkysubject (here), @iwilltrytobereasonable (here), @emmaandorlando (here), @sarinataylor and @talkingismylifewrites (here) all had some very good things to say. All of them make excellent points. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES SEND THEM NASTY MESSAGES. I frankly can’t believe I have to say this at all.

I found myself in a difficult position, because as the person who had spoken to J and asked her all these questions, I did not feel as though I could dissect her words as freely as anybody else. She has put a lot of trust in me, and I do not want her to think that I question her honesty and intentions. Because I don’t. If I hadn’t felt as sure as I reasonably can be that she is the person she says she is, and that her story is genuine from her perspective, if I had been in any doubt about that, I would not have made it public.

Here's the thing:

Even if you don't believe J knew the boys, her recollections of the time period alone are still valuable and incredibly interesting, giving us a glimpse of early 1970s London.

But I do believe J. Why?

Before I answer that, let me just say: I fully realise that of course the fact that it was my story J happened across, and me she decided to speak to because of it, makes me more inclined to want to believe her. However, other authors I'm friends with, as well as myself, have received messages from older people several times before. It does trigger nostalgia when a story is very strongly rooted in a time somebody has lived through. There are older people in the fandom. (I recently ran a poll and all age groups were represented even here on Tumblr.)

Now, on to the reasons why my communication with J has felt nothing but authentic to me.

1. She was never in any rush to get in touch with me or relate information to me. It took her a few days to email me after she first spoke to me in the comment section, where I begged her to please get in touch. She then sent me the same email five times, over two days, because she couldn’t quite work my email address out at first.

I ended up asking several questions more than once to get an answer because they were overlooked. The conversation went off on tangents, and we chatted about her weekend at her friend’s house (and I was presented with a beautiful snapshot of the beach), the memory box her daughter made for her, her work and other things. There were stretches of days at a time when J simply didn’t find the time to get back to me. And I may have badgered her with a few too many emails asking her to please remember to answer my questions when she has a moment. In short, it was the opposite of somebody rushing to share their story. I was doing all the rushing. (I realise that I am asking you to take my word for this, but this did not all happen in a vacuum. @plainxte, @quirkysubject, @fingersfallingupwards, @onegoldenglance and @freddieofhearts witnessed the process first-hand, as well as my excitement and some of J’s original emails.)

2. J was very trusting. I know her full name, where she lives and her place of work. She sent me current pictures of herself and her husband unprompted. At no point did she ask me not to reveal her identity, that is a call I made because I did not want to expose her to any possible harassment.

3. There were a few things in her account of what she remembered which were so obviously at odds with what we know to be true - it’s well-known John is a bit taller than Roger, for example, but J remembered him shorter, Queen went to Sydney in ‘85, J remember it as ‘84 - that I couldn’t help but think, if I was somebody who was trying to convince others of a made up story, the first thing I would surely do is make absolutely certain to get the facts which are easily findable right. Instead, J always lead with: this was all a long time ago, I’m sorry, I’m doing my best trying to remember.

I realise that a very clever hoaxer could do all this and convince me. But here the question has to be, to what end? This would be quite an act for someone to arrange, to make it seem quite so naturalistic. Nobody would go through the trouble of doing that for nothing. There’s no monetary gain. Scandal? There is nothing scandalous in the interview. Attention? J is barely an active member of the fandom. She has managed to create a Tumblr though: @since72. There is one post currently.

It also took her a couple of days to get back to me after I posted the interview.

In brief, I have no logical explanation for why somebody would go to these lengths and fool me so cleverly, with such attention to detail, when there seems to be nothing in it for them. Why then did J bother to talk to me at all? What was her motivation? Well, after I thanked her profusely for doing this, she simply said that she felt she owed me as reading my story had brought back so many memories for her.

All of the above is why I strongly feel that J is very much real and genuine. But I completely understand that it all hinges on the fact that in order to believe everything I say is true, you would have to trust me. And I know that as I am just another person on the internet, you have no reason to do that. But I’ll get to me in a moment.

Here are a few more doubts which I have seen come up with regard to J.

Why would she be reading fanfiction about people she knew? That’s weird.

To be perfectly honest, exactly that was my first reaction, too. But then I thought about it and talked to friends about it.

Firstly, J says herself that she was never a close friend. I agree that it would be far weirder to read fanfiction about somebody you knew very well. Having said that, John Deacon’s son has been known to read Queen fanfic about his father (and read it out on his YouTube channel). But I think given that it’s been half a century and J has been watching Queen in the public eye ever since, it isn’t really all that strange to read about fictional versions of them.

Secondly, a friend of mine noticed that it seems as though older people in the fandom find J overall more credible than younger people. I’m 35, and it is true that the older we get, the more we look for the things which remind us of our younger years. There is an urge to remember and re-live. You can trust me on this, or you can ask anyone over the age of 30 or 40. Nostalgia is real, and it only comes to you with age. Why would somebody who had briefly brushed shoulders with people who later became celebrities not take an interest in them later? It seems natural that she would. As J says, she never stopped being a fan of Queen’s music and came across fanfic when she looked up Adam Lambert. Is it really so strange that she would find fanfic about them entertaining? Having given it all this thought, I really don’t think so.

It’s unrealistic that she was so young.

This is something I have to disagree with. Times were different. Pete Townshend entered Ealing Art School at age 16, according to Wikipedia. My mother (currently 62) moved 600km away from home at the age of 15 to study piano at music college. I myself moved out from home at 17 (no tragic reasons whatsoever), but that’s beside the point. I have seen it framed in a way where it was said that “It isn’t realistic that a 16-year-old was hanging out with Queen who were all in their 20s”. I agree, it would be a little strange if the story was that one 16-year-old girl was hanging out with Queen by herself as their good buddy. But that is not the story. (Even though it is well-known that during the 60s and 70s, young teenaged groupies did in fact hang out with rock groups very frequently. Of course, J was not that kind of groupie.) She was simply part of a large circle of friends, by her own admission not a close friend of the band. Personally, I struggle to see how this is unrealistic in any way.

It seems super suspicious that she lost her photos in a flood.

Yes, it does. I agree. J realises that, too.

Like @quirkysubject said in her post, I don’t blame anyone who is too sceptical at this point. But there actually was a pretty bad flood in Australia in 1988.

There are mistakes in J’s story!

Yes, there are! Let me point them out to you. I already mentioned John’s height and Queen being in Australia in ‘85, not ‘84. I also think that her perception that Freddie was taller than Roger in ‘72, but no longer in the 80s, had everything to do with platform shoes. I have to say that I did ask J some questions which I knew were things which are almost impossible to remember about people you weren’t particularly close to. I knew there was no way she would be able to accurately recall their heights, but I still wanted to know what the impression was which she had come away with. I don’t for one moment think she could possibly know why and if Freddie’s nickname was really ‘Freddie Baby’ at EAS well before she went there. But I still wanted to hear what she thought of that. This is why I stated specifically that this entire interview consists of one woman’s subjective opinions and memories. That alone means you can absolutely not take any of it as definitive fact. That just isn’t how memory works.

Kensington Market and the stall:

J’s answers on this one thoroughly confused me. Not only did she say that while she saw Freddie at the market a lot, Roger was hardly ever there, but there was also some Indian man working at the stall during the week (who I don’t think could have been Freddie’s father). She saw Freddie at multiple stalls, a girl named Jill also worked at the stall… and J was under the impression that Roger and Freddie hadn’t even started the stall. None of this made a whole lot of sense to me, until somebody pointed out that the original stall owned by Roger and Freddie must have closed in the second half of 1971. (Sources: Queen in Cornwall & Queen: As it Began)

It is confirmed (same sources as above) that Freddie worked at the market until as late as 1974. I think it is therefore entirely possible that J would have seen him working at Alan’s stall, or helping out at other stalls, and the likelihood that Roger would have come to hang out with him on a weekend is fairly high, in my opinion. Later, reading about Freddie and Roger running a stall, J would have had no reason to think that this wasn’t the same stall she had seen them at. And yes, this is of course only a theory.

The gay pride march:

@rushingheadlong, who has recently done a lot of fantastic research about Tim, confirms that there’s no chance (as far as we know) that Tim could have been at the march. Did any of them really go? Is J misremembering entirely? Could it be that one of them or two of them went, and looking back, J remembers it as all of them (minus John, however) because she was used to mostly seeing them all together? Does she remember them from another protest march and got it mixed up with the gay rights march? I can’t say. The march and who exactly went is a big question mark. Even J herself is only “pretty sure” that they were all there, and I have to say, I can’t tell you who was where exactly when I think back to when I was 16. Certainly not when there was a big group of people around. And that was only 20 years ago for me.

Lastly, I’m going to try and use the guide our awesome local historian @emmaandorlando provided on how to analyse new sources. Of course, I’m not a historian (and I’m also partly the source by being the interviewer, so I can perhaps only do this impertectly), but let’s give it a go.

1. Who wrote this document?

‘Written historical records were created by individuals in a specific historical setting for a particular purpose. Until you know who created the document you have read, you cannot know why it was created or what meanings its author intended to impart by creating it’.

In this case, the answer is two-fold because essentially I wrote the interview, in as far as that I asked the questions, I gave it shape and presented it in the form in which it came, but the answers are J’s. I completely understand that this is already a big stumbling block for many, because not only am I presenting her as an anonymous source, but many of you don’t know anything about me. If you follow me on Tumblr, you will know that I have shared more with the internet than is probably wise. But still, I am somebody you know little about, presenting to you a person you know even less about. Whether you trust me or not is entirely down to your own judgement and instinct, and that will be different for everybody.

(I’ve seen it said that I’m plugging my own work through this interview. If that was my plan, I’m afraid it’s failed miserably. I looked, and DoA has gained a whopping 2 or 3 kudos.)

2. Who is the intended audience?

‘The relationship between author and audience is one of the most basic elements of communication and one that will tell you much about the purpose of the document. Think of the difference between the audience for a novel and that for a diary, or for a law and for a secret treaty. Knowing the audience allows you to begin to ask important questions, such as; “Should I believe what I am being told?”’

The intended audience is the Queen fandom on Tumblr and AO3. I have no interest in sharing this anywhere else because I’m not familiar with the other fan communities (Facebook? Instagram?) and wouldn’t know how to go about it. For J, the intended audience was mostly me, an author she likes who was very interested in her memories.

3. Why was this document written?

‘Everything is written for a reason. Understanding the purpose of a historical document is critical to analysing the strategies that the author employs within it. A document intended to convince will employ logic; a document intended to entertain will employ fancy; a document attempting to motivate will employ emotional appeals. In order to find these strategies, you must know what purpose the document was intended to serve.’

I got really, really excited. That is the reason. When J got in touch with me, I had a decision to make. I could ask her all the questions I wanted privately and share her answers only with my "inner circle” of fandom friends, or I could share everything with the fandom spaces where I’ve been very active in the last two years. I wanted to share the excitement and decided to do the latter.

I also wanted to present the interview in a way where it would be an engaging, well-structured read and not simply all of her emails to me dumped here with a quick ‘there you go’. So I tried to wrap it in a beautiful “package”, which is why I asked her for her art, for example.

4. What type of document is this?

‘The form of a document is vital to its purpose. The form or genre in which a document appears is always carefully chosen. Genre contains its own conventions, which fulfil the expectations of author and audience.’

An interview, written by somebody who has never interviewed anyone before.

5. Can I believe this document?

‘To be successful, a document designed to persuade, to recount events, or to motivate people to action must be believable to its audience. For the critical historical reader, it is that very believability that must be examined. Every author has a point of view, and exposing the assumptions of the document is an essential task for the reader.

You must treat all claims sceptically (even while admiring audacity, rhetorical tricks, and clever comparisons). One question you certainly want to ask is, “is this a likely story?” Testing the credibility of a document means looking at it from the other side.’

This is for all of you to decide for yourselves, and that was always the case. Far be it from me to be upset with anyone who straight up doesn’t believe a word I say, doesn’t believe J is real or any other scepticism. I’ll say it again, DO NOT harass anyone for expressing their opinions on this! It is NOT WRONG to discuss a new source! It’s wonderful that people are doing it!

And so, we come to that last question: Is this a likely story?

Personally, I can firmly answer that with: Yes. In my personal opinion, it is. I find J’s story very likely and there is close to nothing that makes me question that these are indeed her real memories. But given the nature of human memory, they are just as imperfect as anybody else’s and do not, and should not, supersede any factual, verified information we already have.

With that, I hope to have provided a bit more clarity and transparency, and leave you - as before - to make up your own minds.

#the interview #my thoughts #others have had their say so here is mine #in detail #long post

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