#this jamie means everything to me . literally turned one of my dolls into her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pinkteapotwriting · 3 years

Note

Sub James and sub reader with dom Sirium and dom Remus.

The doms are out and come home to see James and reader fucking without them!

Two subs together and then a punishment from the two doms!

Also. Love your writing.

This is my first ever request!

Marauders x fem!reader

Yes this is everything thank you so much for this request. I’m honored to fulfill your first one you absolute doll <3

Warning : Smut minors dni, sub!reader, sub!james, slight pet play, degradation and spanking

Word count : 2088

---

James’s cock was throbbing, completely pulsating with desire and no matter what he did, he couldn’t get it off his mind. He couldn’t get off at all actually, at least not without permission. Remus and Sirius ran a tight ship, and he knew he’d have to wait until they got home. But they were going to be much longer, and even if he could wait, they’d probably tease him for hours being in this state, just laugh at him while he begged. No. He needed his desire satiated right now. He wandered down the hall to find the shared bedroom to search for you, who had also been left behind while Remus and Sirius were off doing god knows what.

He peered in to find you reading a book on the large king size bed. Looking oh so inviting in Sirius’s t-shirt paired with your shortest sleeping shorts. He watched as you chewed on the end of your thumb absentmindedly, wishing your lips would be doing something else. He crawled up on the bed beside you and spooned in behind as close as he could get. You wiggled back into him to get comfy, and acknowledge him at the same time. But to your great surprise he whined softly behind you. You closed your book and turned so you were chest to chest, creating more torturous friction for your bespeckled boy.

“Jamie what’s wrong?”

He just whined again and instead of explaining himself he rolled over you, resituating it so he was on top of you between your legs rubbing against you, while kissing your neck. You just giggled, despite the instant feeling of pleasure of him rubbing against your clothed clit.

“Okay okay, I think I get it now, but we can’t. Remmy and Siri didn’t give us permission and they’ll get mad.”

You were much better at following the rules, but it was easy for James to get you into trouble. Tears, literal tears were forming in his eyes as he continued to grind into you, burying his face in your chest.

“Please, please y/n need it so bad. Need you so bad. It hurts, I know they could get mad but I can’t wait any longer it hurts. Please.”

You pressed a kiss to the top of his head and rubbed his hair soothingly.

“Okay Jamie, it’s okay. We have to be quick though so they don’t find out, alright? Come on baby lie down for me and let me help.”

He was relieved as he flopped on his back, hopefully Sirius and Remus would be gone away long enough.

---

“Y/N? James, we’re home!”

Remus was shedding his coat, eager to find you two so he could get some relaxation.

“Puppy? Prongs? Come on, we brought you something.”

Sirius’s eyes furrowed in confusion. Normally you two would rush down to meet them, this was odd.

“Come on Pads, maybe they’re just napping and can’t hear us.”

As they got closer and closer to the bedroom the answer became much more clear. They paused outside the door and shared a look, both expressions reflecting the features of anger, of dissatisfaction. Between the sound of the creaking bed, your whines were barely audible, while James sounded like he was getting the fucking of his life. And when they opened the door that’s exactly what they found.

Both of you being completely naked, James was over top of you missionary style, resting on his forearms, biting your shoulder, pounding into you like he’d never get to make you feel good again. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, hands in his hair, gripping it like gravity would stop working, pulling you away into the room’s atmosphere of desire and elation.

That atmosphere however, quickly turned into a different one, of tension, nervousness and guilt, when you both heard Sirius clear his throat. You both scrambled and pushed away from each other, but the damage was done. You two were in for it now. The worst part was Remus’s neutral face, his cold eyes. Sirius was the first to break the silence.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

You were sitting up now, but James was lying face down, hiding his shame against your thighs. You tried to coax him out, scratched lightly at his scalp, knowing if he kept this up he’d make the punishment worse.

“It’s alright Jamie, why don’t you just show them.”

He lifted himself and moved to the edge of the bed, now displaying his aching cock, with an angry red tip that was dripping precum as you all spoke. It was clear he hadn’t come yet, but was very very close. He swallowed thick as Remus knelt before him, terrified at what was about to come. Remus’s pointer finger drew a feather light straight line against James’s swollen member. James couldn’t take the dreadful silence anymore.

“Moony I’m sorry, it’s my fault. It hurt so much so I made Y/N feel bad so she could make it go away. I was desperate, just wanted it to go away, I’m sorry.”

Remus smiled a little before rising to his full height. If James was blubbering now, this was going to be a long night.

“James, we both know you’re not supposed to touch things that aren’t yours, right?”

“Right.”

“See, that’s the thing. You were being greedy and selfish. Touching what didn’t belong to you. Touching me and Sirius’s puppy. Such a needy slut, couldn’t even wait and when Pads and I were only out to bring you and Y/N a present.”

James looked at Sirius (who had his arms crossed and jaw clenched) then back up at Remus.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, but you will be.”

You were playing with your fingers nervously, mentally preparing yourself for your punishment as Sirius approached you. Your jaw was placed between Sirius’s thumb and fingers, pulling you closer to his lips, but instead he moved past your face to your ear.

“You’re supposed to be a good puppy, for me and Remus’s pleasure. Not for your own and certainly not for James. That clear pup?”

You nodded as much as his fierce grip would allow.

“Good, now lie down on Jamsie’s lap.”

As soon as he released you, you quickly did as you were told, shaking with anticipation as both Remus and Sirius undressed completely. You could feel James’s cock throb against you, it being pressed upright between your hip and his stomach.

Sirius joined you so he was beside James, your head close to his lap. While Remus was on the opposite side rubbing and kneading your ass.

“You’re gonna suck my cock bubs, while Remmy spanks your ass okay?”

You stuck out your tongue and opened your mouth wide for him so he could angle himself and slip past your lips.

“Moony how many swats?”

“15, only cause I wanna see her squirm while your dick is in her mouth.”

“Okay bubs, 15 hits and you’re done. 15 swats and you get to be our good puppy again. James you count. This alright love?”

You bobbed down on his dick in response.

“There’s the good girl we trained so well.”

Smack. “O-one.” “Two.”

At first it seemed like you were the only one being punished, but at closer inspection one could tell that with every jolt you made, James was right there with you. Because every movement reminded him of how over sensitive he was as your hip brushed against his length.

Smack “T-te”

Remus rolled his eyes. “You’re so pathetic, Y/N is being such a good girl for us and you can’t even handle her being spanked. If Y/N wasn’t being so obedient I’d make you restart. We’re at ten.”

You just hummed around Sirius as the rest of your punishment ensued, feeling like you got off pretty easy. Not that you would tell them that. James on the other hand, well, poor James. He looked at you longingly, wanting it to be his throat that Sirius was cumming down. Sirius held your cheek in his palm so he could soothe it with his thumb before running it along your bottom lip.

“Such a good pup sucking my cock so well. Need you to do something else yeah.”

You just looked up at him and nodded, peering up at him with your doe eyes. He groaned at the look of innocence you could portray so easily before taking your hand and turning you towards Remus. He pulled you in for a kiss, holding you tight as you melted into him. You were immediately interrupted by James’s needy whines, so reluctantly, Remus pulled away.

“You’re eager to be punished now, are you James? Alright then, move to the middle of the bed and lie on your back, now.”

As he did what he was told Remus guided you to straddle his waist.

“Okay Puppy you can sit on his cock, but no moving understand?”

“Yes Remmy.”

James through his head back in frustration as you sank down on him.

“Please, please I’ve learned my lesson please.”

You stayed rooted, not exactly eager to piss off your boys again, while Remus stood off to the side of the bed with his hand guiding Sirius up and down on his cock, staring with nothing but malcontent. James cried some more, tears rolling down his cheeks, heavier than before.

“Please it hurts please!”

Your eyebrows knit together in pity. You did everything you could to soothe him but it was no use. You would stroke his face, pepper kisses across his face, rub his chest, but the only thing you could to solve the problem was the one thing you weren’t allowed to do.

“It’s alright Jamie, it’ll be okay.”

You took a deep breath, risking punishment again as your heart broke wiping away his tears.

“Remmy, Siri, please let him cum. He didn’t mean to, it was hurting him please. He knows he’s yours he’s learned his lesson. Isn’t that right Jamie?”

Remus gripped Sirius’s hair tighter, fucking his throat with vigor as he got closer to gis own release.

“Alright pup you know what to do.” You started moving up and down on him as he thrust up desperately into you. “Tell me James, who do you belong to?”

“Y-you Moony. You and padfoot.”

“Good boy, you can cum now come on, do it with me.”

Sirius’s mouth and your pussy were painted white simultaneously not much later. James’s face finally relaxed, thrilled he finally was relieved of the torturous tension. That was until Sirius cut in.

“Puppy, Remus didn’t say you could stop did he? Keep going.”

Sirius moved to hold down James’s chest as he writhed underneath you

“Pads no it’s too much, it’s too much.”

“Y/N was so nice to beg to let you cum and now you won’t return the favor? You really are a selfish whore.”

Remus approached James from the other side and slipped his middle and pointer finger past his lips.

“There, that’ll shut him up. Keep going bubs you’re doing so good.”

With his other hand he reached to thumb your clit, letting out the prettiest noise Sirius and Remus had ever heard.

“It’s okay Jamie, m’close, so close. Can I cum. Please?”

Remus circled his thumb faster.

“Go ahead darling make a mess.”

You really didn’t understand how James had waited so long. It didn’t matter anymore though as you pulled out and collapsed against his chest. But Sirius was pulling you off of James completely while Remus soothed James.

“It’s alright Prongs, you can be our good boy again. Here, let’s show you what we bought.”

You and James sat against the headboard as Remus and Sirius each handed you a little box. When you opened them you found two matching delicate chains, the kind with a horizontal rectangle in the middle. But the best part was seeing the engraved initials S.B. and R.L. on the pendant.

“It’s so pretty can you put it on for me Siri?”

Sirius grinned at your excitement while clipping the necklace in the back, while Remus did the same for James. Sirius was kissing up and down the side of your neck, wanting to provide extra proof of who you belonged to while Remus fondled the pendant on James, appreciating the color choice against his flushed skin.

“There we go, now it’ll be a lot harder to forget who you belong to now huh.”

And you would never want to.

---

@sunny-bunnny @quindolyn @weasleyposts @accioweaslcy

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter smut #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders smut #smut #harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #harry potter smut #fanfiction smut

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch47: The Terrible Twos Part 2: Fuck off, Clown.

Intro: In the fourth year since the snap, Jamie enters the terrible twos.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So this chapter is kind of a little different to the others here really, as it’s almost like a collection of long drabbles detailing their life over 2022. And just a little reminded, Phobias, Steve admits to Katie he has a fear of clowns…keep that in mind! @angrybirdcr really did outdo herself with these edits too...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 48 Part 1

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

September 2022

“Mom.” Emmy’s voice was soft and Katie instantly looked up from her laptop. “Where’s Dad?” “He’s gone for a run, well as much of a run as he can with Jamie hanging off his back.” Katie said, frowning slightly as she saw her fifteen year old daughter wasn’t dressed for school. “Is everything ok? I can call him.” “No, it’s fine. It’s you I wanted to talk to.” Emmy hovered from one foot to the other. “I err…”

She looked down at her feet, a huge flush on her face. Katie closed her laptop and stood up. “Em, what’s wrong?” “I think I, well, no I know I err… I started my period and…” “Oh, Sweetie.” Katie chuckled slightly as she wrapped the girl into a hug. “You feeling okay?”

“Erm, I got cramps and I’m really tired.” Emmy mumbled, her cheek pressed against Katie’s shoulder “And, I err, I got some on the sheets.”

Katie smoothed back Emmy’s hair and shrugged “It’s no big deal. I’ll get you some painkillers and why don’t you go have a bath, I’ll sort your bed and then we’ll sit and watch shit on TV all day. I can stay home.”

Emmy nodded eagerly, and peered up at her mom. “Snacks?”

“Dur.”

“Thanks Mom.” Emmy hugged her tight.

“It’s okay, I know how it feels. And, just for the record, beinga woman sucks at times but other times it’s kinda cool.”

“Cool?” Emmy frowned, stepping back a little.

“Yeah, you get boobs.” Katie gestured to her chest “They tend to fascinate most men.”

Katie followed her daughter upstairs where Emmy retreated into the bathroom, whilst Katie found her some pads before she stripped the sheets down and headed to the utility room at the side of the kitchen that held their washing machines and dryer. She was just turning the machine on when the door opened and Steve stepped in, Jamie on his back, giggling away. Steve’s face was red from the brisk November air and the part of Jamie’s cheeks which were visible from beneath his hat and above his scarf were also tinged pink a little.

“Laugh it up, Pal.” Steve shook his head, as he bent down so Jamie could slide off his back “That’s the last time I’m taking you.” “You said that yesterday, and the day before.” Katie smirked, taking the kiss Steve offered, ignoring Jamie’s noise of disgust. “You love it.”

“Hmmm.” Steve made a non-committal noise in his throat. “Any breakfast going or shall I start some?” “Go get a shower and I’ll make it. We can eat together when Emmy’s out of the bath.”

Steve frowned “Shouldn’t she be on the bus?”

“She’s not feeling too good.” Katie shook her head. “I told her I’d stay home with her, today.”

Steve’s frown deepened as he shrugged off his running jacket. “What’s wrong with her? She sick?” “It’s nothing a day in front of the TV, a heat pad and a blanket can’t fix.” Katie gave him a significant look. As ever it took him a while to cotton on, but when he realised what she was saying, Katie really had to bite back the laugh as his face rearranged itself into a look of surprise, which flickered to pure dumbfoundedness as he struggled for a reply.

“Don’t worry, I got it.” She grinned, patting his chest.

“Momma?” A voice came from the kitchen and Katie turned to face Jamie who was stood by the fridge “I’m hungry.” “Yeah, I’m gonna start breakfast now, baby.” she smiled, “Eggs and toast ok?” “Nomm!” He grinned as he padded over to the table and pulled himself up into a seat. Steve had to give a snort, without his seat he could barely see over the top of the table. He made his way over, lifted Jamie easily with one hand causing the boy to cackle before he replaced him back on the booster and scooted him closer.

“That better?” He asked, dropping a kiss to his son’s head.

“Fankoo, daddy.” he grinned.

“You’re welcome, Buddy.” Steve said straightening up. He turned to Katie “I’m gonna go shower then I’ll come help.”

He showered quickly, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a red plaid button down ready for his meetings that day and headed onto the landing, just as Emmy was emerging from the larger bathroom wrapped in a robe.

“Hey, Sweetie. Your Ma said you’re not feeling too good.”

She shrugged, “Not really.” “Will a hug help?” He asked and she smiled, nodding. He opened his arms and she stepped into them as he gave her a soft but firm snuggle.

“Thanks, dad.” she said softly.

“Any time, baby.” he dropped a kiss to her head. “Now I’d go get dressed if I were you, before your brother eats all the breakfast.”

*****

When Steve came back that evening, his girls were pretty much in the same spot they had been in all day. When he asked if they’d moved at all, Katie grinned and pointed out that they were both in clean sets of Pyjamas and Jamie was in bed, so of course they had moved, and that they were getting take-out for Dinner because she couldn’t be bothered to cook and it was Friday after all. With a good natured roll of his eyes, Steve cast one final look at them over his shoulder before he headed upstairs to change, leaving them to watch Love Actually. It was nowhere near Christmas, but he knew what they were like when it came to their soppy films, so he left them to it.

When he came back downstairs they were deep in conversation, so he paused for a moment at the door. He didn’t mean to listen in, but he didn’t want to interrupt. And if he was honest, there was something so pure and innocent about their chat that he simply couldn’t help it.

“You know, I still never forgave Adam Rickman for breaking Emma Thompson’s heart.” Katie sighed as Emmy scoffed.

“Has Dad ever bought you a really crappy gift?” she asked.

“No.” Katie replied. “He’s very thoughtful. Although the best gift he gave me wasn’t one he bought anyway.” “Your emerald?” Emmy asked, and Katie made a noise of affirmation. They fell silent for a moment before Emmy spoke again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Course.”

“If anything happened to Dad, do you think you’d ever like date again?”

Steve frowned slightly as he heard Katie exhale “That’s deep Em. I dunno. I don’t think I’d ever be able to love another man the way I love Steve. In fact I know I wouldn’t. What on Earth made you ask that?” “Oh, Brooke is trying to get Jen dating but she keeps saying she loves Brooke’s dad too much and I kinda think it’s sad as he’s been dead for years. ” “Yeah, well, the thing is Em when you’re in love, and I mean truly in love, it consumes you. That person becomes as much a part of your life as you are and to lose them like that…well I can’t imagine what a hole that would leave in their place.”

“Yeah, suppose.” “You’ll figure that out soon enough.” Katie chuckled.

“Was Dad your first love?”

“He’s been the only man I’ve ever truly been in love with, yes.” Katie replied “For most people a first love and a true love are very different things.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, for instance my first love was a guy called Mikey, he was my first boyfriend. I wasn’t much older than you, dated him for about twelve months.” Katie mused. “He was the first guy I ever slept with. Then there was Grant and we don’t talk about him, ever as he was an asshole.”

Emmy gave a snort

“But your dad, well, he was different. We cared so much about each other before we even started dating. I mean, if I’m honest, I loved him way before he even asked me out.” “Who made the first move?” “He did.” Katie smirked and at that point Steve gave a scoff and walked into the room.

“Liar.” “Oh you so did!” Katie looked at him, unabashed he’d been listening. “You kissed me after Rumlow’s party. You’d have kissed me before that as well if you hadn’t been such a chicken shit.” Steve rolled his eyes and flopped onto the seat at the opposite side of the coffee table. “You didn’t exactly push me away.” “Dur.” It was Katie’s time to roll her eyes as Emmy snorted “I’d been waiting for you to make a move for months.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at her as the teenager quipped. “You were still a bit slow on the uptake back then I see.” “Err, less of your cheek young lady.” He shot back and she giggled.

“You know the first time we had sex he literally ripped my pants off.” Katie grinned at Steve and he pulled a face as Emmy cackled.

“Jesus, Doll.” He flushed bright red.

“Wasn’t the only time either.” “Okay,” Steve stood up with a sigh, shaking his head, as Emmy cackled. He wasn’t particularly keen on discussing his sex life with his fifteen year old kid. “I’m gonna get the Thai Menu.”

Katie watched him go before she winked at Emmy and stood up, following him into the kitchen. She wrapped her arms around his waist and nuzzled into his shoulder. “I love how after all this time I can still make you blush.” “You’re a damned nightmare.” He chuckled as his hands rest on top of hers, using them to pull her closer as he turned to face her.

“But you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.” He smiled, dropping a kiss to her lips.

****

Steve didn’t quite rip Katie’s pants off that night, but it was still passionate enough to send them both into an orgasm induced sleep almost straight away. But Steve was a light sleeper, not as light as he had been once-upon-a-time, as sleeping besides his wife gave him a sense of peace. That said, his super-soldier hearing always woke him should something be out of place, so when he was pulled from his slumber it took him a while to realise that the soft voices he could hear downstairs was the TV. Knowing it could only be one person, he swung his legs out of bed and pulled on a sweater before he padded down the stairs.

“Emmy?” He asked gently as he opened the door to the living room. The teenager looked up from where she was sat, knees tucked up besides her.

“Couldn’t sleep.” She shrugged and his sharp eyes didn’t miss the movement her hand made over her tummy. “And lying in bed was doing my head in.”

“Did you take anything?” Steve asked and she looked at him. “For the pain?”

“Oh,” she flushed slightly, “yeah, but it hasn’t worked yet.”

Steve nodded and headed into the kitchen, putting on the kettle. He made the pair of them a hot drink, stuck another heat-pack in the microwave and then paused as he passed the cupboard where he kept his secret stash.

Well, if this wasn’t an occasion it was called for then what was?

Emmy looked up as he walked back into the lounge. He placed the peppermint tea down on the table in front of her, before he passed her the heat pack and then wordlessly produced the Dairy Milk bar from his sweatpants pocket.

“You’re giving me your chocolate?” Emmy looked at him.

“Don’t tell your brother.” Steve said as he sat next to her, flopping his feet up on the coffee table.

She grinned and unwrapped the bar, offering him a piece which he took and shoved in his mouth.

“You’re pretty clued up on all this given you’re like a hundred and five.” She grinned cheekily

“Yeah well, I’ve been with your ma for ten years so I picked up a few tips.” He shrugged. She took a sip of her drink, rearranged her blanket and then picked up his arm so she could snuggle into him. He gently ran his hand over the back of her head as she got comfortable.

“What we watching?” He asked.

“Bad Boys.”

Steve chuckled. “I like this one. That is if I’m not too old to keep you company for a while?” “Nah.” She grinned as she placed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re good.” Katie found the pair of them flat out on the sofa the next morning, Emmy’s head propped up on a pillow as she snuggled up against Steve, her back pressed to his chest as the solider was stretched out down the sofa behind her, arms around his daughter as they slept.

****

October 2022

“All set?” Katie asked as she reached the bottom of the stairs as Steve walked back into the hall having loaded their bags into the car. They were heading off to Tony’s lake-house for a few days where he was throwing a bit of a Halloween party, nothing major but it was a chance for the kids to get dressed up in costumes and eat a load of candy whilst the adults could kick back and drink. Katie was looking forward to it for two reasons. Firstly, it was always nice to gather together with friends and family, well those of them that were left post snap-it made her feel normal, and she could push that persistent feeling of sadness that seemed to manifest on a daily basis, back down into the depth of her mind. And secondly, she was a little excited because she had no idea what Emmy or Jamie’s outfits were going to be.

Emmy had asked a month or so ago if she could be in charge of getting the pair of them costumes and Katie had agreed, simply handing over her card when she wanted to order whatever it was off the internet. She’d even resisted the urge to check her statement to see what it was, as Emmy had demanded she didn’t try and find out. Katie had a sneaking suspicion that Tony had also been involved in these costume choices, as the last time her brother had been over a few weeks ago, the pair of them had been huddled on the large arm chair, sniggering as they looked at something on Tony’s phone. With that in mind she was expecting Jamie to come down in some form of Iron Man or Captain America costume and she had every intention of filming Steve’s response.

“Yup. Locked and loaded.” Steve nodded, dropping a kiss to her cheek.”As soon as the kids are ready we can go.”

“No rush.” Katie shrugged, looking at her watch as they walked into the kitchen. “We don’t need to be there for a few hours.” She wrinkled her nose and slapped at Steve’s hand as he went to peek under the foil wrapped plate on the side. He sharply withdrew it and grinned at her.

“Tell me that’s a pie.”

“Apple and pumpkin, but it’s for the party.”

Steve pouted and she laughed and jerked her head behind her. “There’s another there as I knew you wouldn’t be able to wait.”

“You-” Steve pecked her lips “-are” another peck “-the best.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Captain.” She smirked as his lips hovered over hers and he deepened the kiss slightly, both his hands sliding down to give her ass a playful squeeze before he stepped back and walked over to his coveted prize. Steve peeled back the little cloth that was over the top and gave a little groan that was positively sinful as he inhaled the smell.

“Don’t eat that straight out of the pie dish,” Katie warned him as he made his way to the freezer for the ice cream, “I was gonna cut a few slices for the kids to munch on the way.”

“Then they can get their own.” Steve grumbled a little, but he grabbed a plate none the less.

“Oh yeah, where from?” Katie asked, her hands on her hips.

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Steve muttered as he cut himself a huge slice of the coveted pie. He ladled a generous amount of vanilla ice cream on top then carried it over to the breakfast bar, sitting down as Katie gathered the rest of the food items she had said she would bring which included a huge dish of Mac and Cheese that she’d coloured green with food colouring, spaghetti and meatballs that were supposed to be worms, cinnamon and apple cookies in the shape of pumpkins and a batch of home-made raspberry and cherry gin which had been done using the raspberries and cherries from the brambles and trees in their small orchard at the bottom of the garden. She began packing it all into a hamper as Steve took the first bit of his pie and gave another groan.

“You know,” he swallowed, waving his fork at her as he gave her a playful grin, “I think this pie is actually better than sex.”

Katie looked at him, arching her eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“It’s a very close call.” He nodded.

“Well maybe I should make you a pie once a week instead of letting you get me on my back.” Katie looked at him, closing the lid on the basket and pushing it to one side, leaning over the breakfast bar.

“Okay, first off we have sex way more than once a week,” Steve pointed his fork at her, “and second-“ his eyes glinted cheekily “-you’re not always on your back.”

“True.” Katie pursed her lips and reached for his fork, snatching it from his hand, “but if you think I’m baking a pie more than once a week you’ve got another thing coming.” She used the fork to take a piece of the sweet treat along with a large blob of ice cream and shoved it in her mouth, closing her eyes. She moaned a little, ensuring that the noise that left her throat was as sinful as she could make it, before she opened her eyes and used her thumb to wipe at a little trickle of ice cream in the corner of her mouth. With her eyes locked on Steve she sucked her thumb clean and smirked a little at the familiar glint of dark in his eyes that he always got when he was turned on.

“You’re lucky you’re the other side of the breakfast bar.” He leaned forward a little, elbows resting on the marble surface, his voice a low timbre that sent those familiar sparks up Katie’s spine.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Katie asked innocently, ignoring the sudden flutter she’d felt between her legs at his tone.

“Because if you weren’t you be in my lap right now testing my theory.”

“Shame.” She nodded, looking around. “I mean it’s not like you could reach and drag me over it or anything.”

“Well I could,” Steve agreed, “but there’s a piece of pie in the way. And it’s too good to waste.”

“You’re a jerk!” Katie shook her head as Steve laughed, before he leaned back in the stool and patted his right thigh.

“C’mere pretty girl.”

Katie grinned, the sound of him calling her pretty girl always did things to her, as did the soft instruction to ‘come here’ in his Brooklyn accent. She rounded the bar and he reached out, easily pulling her onto his lap so she was perched sideways, legs hanging over the side of his right thigh as he curled his left arm around her waist, right gently resting on her thigh. Katie’s right arm slid round his neck and he titled his face to look at her.

“Just for the record you taste far better than any pie you make.” He grinned and Katie’s mouth fell open at his dirty comment.

“Steven Grant Rogers!” She snorted, slapping his shoulder slightly and he laughed, his hand on her thigh tightening its grip slightly, fingers curling round the toned muscles which were evident once more due to Katie having started training again. Steve actually kind of missed the softness that she’d had since having Jamie but he was damned if he was going to tell her that. He leaned towards her slightly, his nose bumping hers a little as she gently trailed her hand over the nape of his neck, nails scratching just below his hair line above the collar of his black sweater.

“Love you.” He muttered gently, his lips brushing hers and she smiled, her fingers tanging in the hair at the back of his head.

“More than apple pie?”

“Infinitely Mrs Rogers.”

“More than Mac and Cheese?”

Steve hesitated and Katie scoffed.

“For the record I love you more than anything.” Steve chuckled, pressing his lips to hers. “Well, apart from the kids.”

“I’ll accept that exception.” Katie chuckled, her mouth finding his again. The kiss deepened, Katie letting out a soft sigh as his tongue brushed against hers, tasting the apple pie and Ice Cream he had been eating before. Steve’s hand skated up the outside of her thigh coming to rest on her hip, finger tips brushing the strip of skin where her top had ridden up slightly as her own hand fisted slightly in his hair. Completely lost in one another they almost missed the little footsteps coming down the stairs and the giggles in the hallway.

Almost.

Steve pulled back, looking at Katie who grinned. “Play your cards right we can finish this later.”

“At Tony’s?”

“Won’t be the first time we fucked in his spare room.”

Steve snorted at her and patted her ass as she hopped off his lap.

“Mom, Dad!” Emmy called. “We’re ready!”

“We heard!” Katie called back as Steve stood up, grabbing his plate of pie. He took another bite before he wandered into the hallway where he collided with Katie who had stopped dead just outside the door. Frowning he looked up and felt his heart jump.

A clown.

His 2 year old son was dressed as a fucking clown.

And not just any clown, which would have been bad enough, but that bastard clown from IT. The film he refused time and time again to watch because of said bastard clown, which was now stood on the bottom step of the stairs holding a red balloon.

And suddenly, all he could see was that damned clown at Coney Island chasing him through the stalls, Bucky’s laughter echoing in his ears, and then that fucking mirror maze where he’d had the panic attack as he was surrounded by them.

The plate holding his precious pie slipped from his hand and dropped to the tiled floor, where it broke into 3 pieces, its contents splattering all over the grey slate.

“Woah, Dad, didn’t think it would be that scary!” Emmy grinned from behind Jamie as she stood in her outfit, which was a superb replica of the Wicked Witch of the West complete with full green face-paint and a broomstick.

Katie looked over her shoulder at Steve and she could see from his face that he was really struggling to keep it together. Trying not to laugh at the expression of sheer horror on his handsome features, she clamped her lips together and turned to Emmy.

“Your dad’s…” she took a deep breath, trying not to laugh “He’s scared of clowns.”

“Oh…” Emmy frowned “Uncle Tony said he would love it.”

“I bet he did.” Steve bit out a little harshly and Emmy looked at him.

“Are you mad?” She asked and seeing the look on her face Steve inwardly cursed his phobia and his damned brother in law.

“No, honey,” he shook his head, “not at all…you both look…” he trailed off.

“Daddy, look!” Jamie grinned, and he jumped off the bottom step. “Balloon!”

He toddled over towards Steve who automatically took a few steps back and Jamie stopped in front of him, right by Katie’s side, a confused expression crossing his painted face. “Daddy?”

“Yeah, pal…I gotta…” Steve exhaled “I gotta put some stuff in the car so we can to go to Uncle Nee’s okay?”

“Kay…” Jamie said a little quietly.

Katie watched, her shoulders shaking in silent laughter as Steve went to move round Jamie, turning sideways so he could keep his eyes on him, before he pushed past Emmy and bolted up the stairs taking them three at a time.

The hallway was silent bar the sounds Lucky was making as he cleaned up the remnants of the pie on the floor, not wanting to miss a single crumb of his human food treasure.

“Em, why don’t you two take Lucky and go get in the car, we’ll be out in a little moment.” Katie smiled at her.

“Okay. Come on Jay!” Em grabbed his hand but Jamie, clearly now finding the reaction his dad had amusing, turned to his mom and made a little growling noise at her. Katie gave a fake scream and jolted back, causing Jamie to cackle a little, tilting his head back in mirth before allowed Emmy to lead him away.

As soon as they were out of sight and earshot Katie started to laugh. She laughed so hard that she had to retreat to the kitchen to sit at a chair. She doubled over, clutching at her stomach, trying to gather her breath as the tears poured down her face. Try as she might, she couldn’t get the image of Steve fighting the urge to punt his own son into another room out of her head.

Eventually she managed to sort herself out enough to grab her phone and swiped over to the number she wanted.

“Hey, Kiddo.” Tony greeted

“Tony, you…” she started to laugh again “You better be able to run fast because Steve…he’s…”

Tony chuckled. “He liked the costume then?”

“Tony he freaked, like, seriously. Poor Steve. I expected some form of full Captain America outfit, not that!”

“Well, on this occasion the Spangles just weren’t enough”

“You’re a little shit, you know that?”

“It’s been said.” He conceded. “Did you get it on video?”

“No.” Katie sighed “I was going to but when I saw Pennywise on my damned stairs I knew what was gonna happen so…”

“Shame.We could have played that back later. For science.”

At that point Katie looked up as Steve walked into the kitchen, glancing round.

“He’s not in here…” She chuckled and Steve glared at her, before he gestured to the phone.

“That Tony?”

She nodded.

He reached out and snatched the phone off her. “You’re a dead man,” he growled down the handset, and Katie could hear her brother’s roar of laughter before Steve hung up and tossed the phone down onto the table.

“Calm down!” Katie laughed, standing up. “Steve, it’s just a costume.”

“Katie, they freak me the hell out!” he shook his head “You don’t…” his hands dropped to his hips and his head dropped. “Did you see his face when I backed away?”

“Oh, he’s fine!” Katie rubbed Steve’s arms. “He couldn’t care less.” Steve took a deep breath and she looked at him. “Do you want me to get him to change?”

Steve shook his head “No, he was so pleased with himself…plus, I don’t fancy that particular tantrum now do you?”

“Not really no.”

Steve shrugged “Then I guess I’m stuck with it. Come on, let’s get gone. Sooner we get there the sooner I can carry out my threat to kill your asshole brother.”

Steve grabbed the food hamper and headed out to the car with it, settling it onto the trunk of the car as Katie got into the passenger side. Once Steve finished his usual checks to ensure the door was locked, he climbed into the driver’s seat ant they set off.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah buddy?” Steve asked, glancing in the mirror automatically and once more was confronted by that fucking clown. He swallowed and turned his eyes to the front.

“No scared, daddy. I not a real clown.”

Katie chuckled as Steve pulled out of the drive onto the road. “I know pal, but it’s Halloween. Everyone gets scared at some point.”

Jamie nodded, accepting his answer and turned to look out of the window. As they approached a junction, Steve checked the mirror again and then sighed, shaking his head.

“You’re gonna hafta drive.” He looked at Katie.

“What?”

“I can’t do it.” He shrugged “Every time I check the mirror, all I can see is…”

“Are you being serious?” Katie looked at him.

“Absolutely.” Steve unclipped the seatbelt and climbed out of the car.

And right then Katie vowed that if Steve didn’t kill Tony, she was gonna.

****

December 2022

“Did he go down alright?”

Steve dropped onto the couch, picking up one of the super strength beers Thor had send him as part of a pre- Christmas testing package, lifting his arm up so Katie could settle into him.

“Very well, actually,” he narrowed his eyes taking a pull of his beer, “almost suspiciously so.”

Katie chuckled as she replaced her glass and dropped her head to Steve’s shoulder as she pressed play on the remote. The two of them simply stayed like that, the odd movement and hands stroking shoulders, thighs or knees as usual, comfortable in their own little world, the light of the fire and twinkling of the Christmas lights giving the room a cosy, comfy ambience. They were about thirty minutes into the film when, Katie felt Steve’s head move off the top of hers and she glanced at him and saw the beginnings of a smile forming on his face.

“What?”

He looked down at her. “You know,” he said, a light in his eyes that she knew all too well, “It’s Friday, Emmy’s out, Jamie’s in bed…” Steve trailed off and raised an eyebrow at his wife. She grinned too, mirroring his expression.

“I like where this is going,” she smirked and within seconds, her legs had been pulled from underneath her drawing a giggle from her lips as she lay flat on the sofa, Steve hovering over her. Katie wrapped her arms around his neck as their lips met, and she was just beginning to thread her fingers through his hair when they both heard a shout.

“Heeeeeyyyyy!”

Steve dropped his head and groaned. “I’ll go.”

He placed one last kiss on her lips before he stood up off the couch and headed into the hall way.

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” he said as he headed up the stairs, seeing Jamie stood in his doorway at the baby gate.

“No sleep.” Jamie’s response was a whine.

“Not an option pal” Steve shook his head, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You know Santa won’t come if you don’t.”

“Can’t sleep.” Jamie tried again, and Steve had to bite back the smile that was about to cross his face. His son had certainly inherited his, and his wife’s for that matter, tenacity.

“Did you even try?”

There was a pause and Jamie furiously nodded his head in a blatant lie.

“Sure you did.” Steve rolled his eyes “Well what do you think would help you sleep?”

“Story, daddy!”

At those words a smile spread across Steve’s face. Over the last six months, Jamie had taken a real interest in the tales he told him, so much so that they had swapped night time readings of chapters from books for Steve’s real life stories, most of them being pulled straight from the streets of Brooklyn or Manhattan during Steve’s own childhood or adulthood pre-serum.

“One more.” Steve caved and Jamie shrieked with delight. “But!” he continued in a warning tone, “You have to be quiet.”

Jamie stilled immediately and clapped his little hands over his mouth before he turned and ran, diving back on his bed. Steve chuckled and made his into Jamie’s room, as the two year old climbed under his Iron Man Duvet cover (Thank you Tony for that one…) and peered up at Steve as he settled down next to him, his son setting under his arm, snuggling into the crook of his arm against his chest.

“Did I ever tell you about the time that I went to the theatre-”

Katie didn’t wait for Steve to come back down, she knew full well that he would have been coerced into one more story. Their son had his dad wrapped around his little finger, and Steve at times found it simply impossible to say no. She glanced up at the clock, noting that it was almost nine… they could watch the film in bed. She turned the TV and tree lights off, she took the empty glass and bottle into the kitchen, let Lucky out for a pee whilst she made sure all the doors were locked before letting the now slightly older and slower dog back in.

“You staying here tonight, Luck?” She asked, and the dog yawned, stretching as he rolled onto his back in the dog basket which was placed in the hallway under the stairs. “Take that as a yes then.” She scratched behind his ears before standing up and creeping up the stairs to the door of her son’s room, which was open enough for her to peek through.

She loved Steve’s stories almost as much as Jamie did, if not for the same reasons. Jamie loved their action and adventure, often joining in with his own loud whoops and laughs, but Katie simply loved listening to Steve’s voice as he narrated. His tone would change from low and dramatic to loud and comical, and Katie found it simply adorable. A pure, unadulterated moment of love between father and son that made her heart swell every single time she watched or overheard.

“And then, all of a sudden this man appeared, in the alley way. And I didn’t have anything to protect myself with. So I picked up a trash can lid, and held it right here, like a shield.” Steve drew his arm across his chest. “Like Cap?” Jamie said, thrusting his Captain America bear at his dad.

“Just like Cap, yeah, Buddy.” Katie smiled to herself, Jamie was still too young to really understand about their history with the Avengers. He knew about who the Avengers were, well what he could grasp being so young, thanks mainly to Tony and Natasha, but he had no idea about his dad’s alter ego. And for now, it wasn’t important, they were just a normal family and long may it stay like that.

Katie watched as Steve continued to talk as he sat up on Jamie’s bed, his back against the headboard as his mini-me, led besides him, looking up at his father, eyes wide and full of adoration. These were the moments that brought out all of Steve’s best characteristics, and Katie simply loved him all the more for it. Smiling to herself she headed into their bedroom and tossed her clothes aside before she stepped into the shower in their en-suite.

Steve could read his son’s body language like a book, and about ten minutes after his super hearing heard Katie leaving where she had been stood outside the room listening, he could feel the little boy starting to droop slightly, one small hand fisted into Steve’s white t-shirt, the other was in front of his small face, thumb in his mouth as his index finger gently rubbed against that Stark nose. A few moments later he glanced down and in the dim glow of the dinosaur night light, he saw his son was fast asleep. Gently, he moved and stepped off the bed, tucking the duvet up under Jamie’s chin before he stooped, dropping a kiss onto his head, his hand gently caressing the shock of blonde hair. With a last look back he closed the door to, leaving it open just a chink, and headed into their room.

Katie was just emerging from the en-suite wearing a bathrobe, long hair piled up on her head.

“He has you wrapped around his finger.” She grinned, sliding her hands up her husband’s chest.

“Oh, and you don’t?” He muttered, hands connecting at the bottom of her spine.

“You gonna read me a bed time story then, Captain?”

“I got a better way of getting you to sleep.” He murmured, dropping his lips to hers, and she grinned as he backed her towards the bed. “There’s only one problem.” “Oh yeah?” She asked, as his arms pulled her closer, his lips trailed down her neck, mopping up the speckles of water from the shower that remained.

“Yeah, this is in the way.”

He softly kissed at that spot beneath her ear, his hand dropping to the belt of her robe. She grinned as he pulled at the tie and gently shrugged the robe off Katie’s shoulders, allowing it to drop to the floor as his lips claimed hers again. He wrapped an arm round her back, tugging her onto her toes so he could take a nipple in his mouth and she let out a groan as she looked downwards, moving her hands to undo the chords on his sweat pants.

“Off.” She muttered, pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt. He released her temporarily so she could slide it up, before he pivoted and dropped them both onto the bed, trapping her in between his hands and legs.

A familiar warmth exploded along her lower abdomen as he kissed her, one hand on the side of her face, the other sliding to her hip and across her stomach, making its way slowly between her legs. She arched her back and groaned as he slipped two fingers inside her, feeling him smirk against her neck.

“Fucking drenched aren’t you, Sweetheart?”

She let out another groan at his words. “Only for you.” A low growl rolled in the back of his throat as he slammed his mouth onto hers, shucking off his sweats as he began to kiss her chest, then stomach, before going down her legs. He set his mouth to her, lapping at her, her sweet, salty tang, so familiar yet so delectable, and as he worked her, it was all she could do to mewl softly, and grip one hand in his hair as she writhed at his touch. His tongue flicked strongly and he sucked at her clit gently, before upping the pace as she whimpered, trying so hard to keep her noise down. Steve continued to tease and nibble and when he took her swollen clit between his lips again Katie let out a silent scream as her orgasm hit her hard, causing her knees to turn inwards, squeezing around his head, involuntarily. She fell back against the pillows with a sigh of satisfaction and looked down as Steve crawled back up her body, leaning forward, placing his hands on either side of her head.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” He whispered, making her grin before he crashed his lips onto hers, the sudden action drawing a small grunt from her mouth. She reached down taking him in her hand and he took in a sharp breath as he pulled away from her mouth, sliding his fingers down her legs. He moved her legs apart and pushed into her, a low sigh of satisfaction leaving both their lips before he began to move, burying his face into her neck, nipping at the spot under her ear gently. She keened underneath him as he grew more urgent with his thrusts, her eyes locking onto his as he gripped her hands at either side of her head, leaning back down to kiss her fervently. He was hard, fast, desperate for hris release and she met each of his thrusts fervently with her own hips happy to give herself to him.

“So good,” He praised in a low voice, dragging his face against her hair before he looked at her. “I’m close, tell me you are…”

Katie responded with a moan, “Stevie.” and then her legs shook and she came again, closing her eyes as she tightened around him, burying her face into his neck to stifle her noises as the spasms came involuntarily around him again and again.

“Oh, fuck, Doll.” he stuttered, biting his lower lip as his eyes fluttered closed before his rhythm stilled and he let out a soft groan as he came, the utter bliss consuming him fully. He fell forward, head dropping into the hollow of his wife’s neck to catch his breath, his body slumped on top of hers, his familiar weight pressed her into the mattress as they both came down from their high. Katie ran her fingers through his hair, pressing soft kisses along his shoulder as her nails gently scratched at his scalp, causing Steve to hum out a soft sigh of contentment as he lay still, enjoying her touch.

“Stevie?” she muttered.

“Yeah?” “How long do you think we have before Jamie realises he can climb the baby gates now?”

“I’m amazed he hasn’t already.” Steve leaned up on his elbows to look down at his wife “Why?”

“Because I think we might need to invest in a lock for our door.” she grinned “For when you’re reading your baby momma her bedtime story.”

*****

Chapter 49

**Original Posting 1 2 3**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x original female character #Katie Stark #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

56 notes · View notes

cattles-bians · 3 years

Text

exes au part 12

post directory

obsetress: don’t ask why i had this thought because i couldn’t tell you but

obsetress: jamie wakes up in the middle of the night one night and is like “i... had a dream. about vi”

obsetress: and dani’s like “ok baby” and just nuzzles deeper into her pillow and jamie’s like

obsetress: “no, dani, a... a dream”

obsetress: and dani’s like “oh. oh” and is immediately wide awake and bright eyed

obsetress: and is like “was it any good?” and jamie is just. already flushed so red and flushed deeper and dani just hums

em: sighs wistfully

em: i also love that something compels jamie to tell dani Immediately

em: oh the perils of begrudgingly being friends w ur gfs ex

em: jamies like um. no see i can see all these different things my brain mashed together and WHY i had this dream and danis like ok but that wasn’t my question....

obsetress: jamie finally throws up her hands “of course it was”

em: jamie: And You Can’t Tell Vi She’ll Be Insufferable

obsetress: dani, very plainly, at brunch the next morning: so vi

obsetress: jamie looks like she’s going to have a heart attack and dani lets her sweat and then just smiles sweetly “i like those sunglasses. are they new?”

em: jamie what’s the problem (nothin. indigestion)

obsetress: dani very smug n thinks she’s very funny

obsetress: (she is a little funny)

em: one of jamies many ‘oh that’s why they dated’ moments

obsetress: “fookin sick, the both of ya”

em: idk why you had this thought but i’m GREATLY amused

obsetress: skskksksks right

obsetress: jamie explaining her dream to dani in great detail afterwards

obsetress: dani sitting there nodding and hmming “oh that sounds like her. no, she wouldn’t do that. now THAT she would be very good at, you’d like it”

em: i need a moment

em: jamie thinks the dark hides her massive fucken blush but it Doesn’t

em: dani can feel her heating up

obsetress: jamie “i don’t ask you to do this” dani “you’re not stopping me”

em: dani critiquing jamies sex dream is such a fucken funny concept sjdhdkhdkdhdkc

obsetress: RIGHT

obsetress: i’m dying

em: dani: oh no that’s OOC

obsetress: she wouldn’t have a riding crop jamie, it’s 2021, not 16—

em: jamie: it’s a wet dream do u really think it’s gonna have beta readers and a three act structure

em: dani hums

obsetress: dani: well did you enjoy it

obsetress: jamie: i— dani: did you?

obsetress: jamie mumbling yeah

em: jamies like i’m gonna interrogate dani next time, see how she feels- but she forgets dani is incapable of feeling shame

obsetress: like dani wouldn’t just launch into a ramble

---

em: viola

obsetress: fuck

obsetress: yeah

obsetress: to jamie, specifically,

em: to jamie specifically andhdjhdjd

em: once again ironic jamvi has turned, in my brain, into ‘yes and....’ jamvi

—-

obsetress:

obsetress: jamie sending this to viola n vi's like

obsetress: she doesn't get it because she's convinced her taste is immaculate

---

em: anyway this is ooc even for exes au but i keep thinking abt like. jamie tryna crack how old viola is (she cant be 34 im 30 it doesnt make sense) and going through her fb timeline like. 'aha! motivational quotes. gotta be late 30s' and danis either like

em: danis either like 'you have a notebook where you write down all the quotes you like baby' OR shes like haha ok thats fair (posts another motivational quote on her fb)

obsetress: god i love that so much

obsetress: both of those dani responses are

obsetress: honestly porque no los dos if we're already going ooc

obsetress: i do think the first bit "gotta crack it she can't be 34 i'm 30 it doesn't make sense" is in character fwiw

em: obviously i was inspired by ur post in the milf channel abt viola always saying shes 35

em: big brain

—-

obsetress: this is literally just. exes au rebecca

obsetress: down to the caption

obsetress: vi and rebecca patiently staging like full photoshoots for each other every time one of them wants a pic otp: i'm not high maintenance, you're just low effort

---

em: bold 2 say that we don’t think about jamie and vi tho

em: gotta keep some sorta. presentation of respectability

em: they absolutely couldn’t date tho

obsetress: lmao ikr

obsetress: yeah no they'd kill each other

obsetress: now just thinking of silly circumstances and um

obsetress: rebecca's out of town and dani's flying back from some iowa thing jamie couldn't get away for to go with

obsetress: and viola's like "oh, just stay at ours, it's closer and i'll get you a car"

obsetress: and just like

obsetress: imagining the two of them cohabitating at vi's for a night

em: jamie sneaking around at night tryna find the bathroom and runs straight into vi in a face mask and a dangerously low dressing gown Again

obsetress: the parallels to canon

obsetress: im giggling

obsetress: walks straight into her path

em: opens a door. sees something she doesn’t want to see. immediately turns and walks away

em: god the face mask would make her look like the lady in the lake

obsetress: yeah

obsetress: vi wants to go out to dinner, jamie's just like "i'm already getting up early to go to the airport, can't we just have an easy night in"

em: what did i say before. that thing abt if ur friends w damie you will inevitably walk in on them

obsetress: god yeah

em: flip of that.

obsetress: oh GOD

em: god they would argue about dinner

em: bicker about EVERYTHING

em: dani and rebecca both make the married couple joke

em: jamie goes pale

obsetress: wait sorry i just went back to tahirahs insta post and like

obsetress: katie parker commented and was like "i love these shots of you" and she was like "thanks luv " and i'm like

obsetress: why does this....... still track........... with exes au...............

em: perdy is always a little too flirty w vis paramours

obsetress: always! except dani for whatever reason

obsetress: she's just scared of dani

em: Please

obsetress: rebecca's like "i don't see what the problem is. she can do what she wants, but you trust me, don't you?" "of course i trust you" rebecca shrugs "that's it then, isn't it?"

obsetress: anyway vi huffs n crosses her arms n pouts a little bit and is like "well i don't want her to"

obsetress: rebecca is endeared and uses the opportunity to her advantage like the top leaning switch she is

em: dani rebecca parallels: always dtf

obsetress: perdi and vi fighting and vi's like "are you even gay? or do you just want what i have?" and perdi is like "does it matter?"

em: are you even gay perdi nahdkdhdkdhd

em: perdi is like you KNOW about jamie and viola crinkles her nose bc she forgot about that and she’s starting to respect jamie as a person

obsetress: djflakdkfjldkadjLDJFLSKDFJLSDKFJx

obsetress: i screeched

em: viola: you only MET jamie because i hired her for landscaping you fucking-

obsetress: just thinking about perdita watching jamie working on some property sweating in a tank top and Deciding

em: bringing out some lemonade etc

em: haha you look parched

obsetress: smiling widely, turning on the charm

obsetress: jamie is very attractive and very swoonworthy, but perdita 100% only goes for it because she refuses to let viola have one (1) thing

obsetress: and that extends to lesbianism

em: viola's like no this is normal right. siblings competing. rivalries etc and danis like uh i’m an only child and jamies like uh i raised my brother

em: they don’t know how to tell her sure it happens but it’s also extremely fucken weird vi

obsetress: jamie: you have to tell her dani: why do i have to tell her jamie: you tell her everything dani: i don't tell her–– ok, i tell her most things. i'm not sure i want to tell her this though jamie: why not dani: she's not... she's not gonna like it jamie: So You Might Be A People Pleaser,

em: jamie: i can’t tell her. she’s only just forgotten the perdi thing. what if she remembers i’ve

em: in depth character study of viola and perdi’s fucked up rivalry

em: violas like goddamn it do i have to fuck jamie to get even

obsetress: i––

em: she decides against it

em: jamie is none the wiser

obsetress: she Considers it tho

em: jamie would die on the spot if she knew

obsetress: weighs the pros and cons

obsetress: the best part is like

obsetress: this is all post-danvi and pre-damie right so when dani n jamie see rebecca and vi at that video store

obsetress: viola's like wait.

obsetress: wait

obsetress: dani ending up with the hot gardener her sister fucked because she has bizarre jealousy and possession issues is really just the cherry on top of a shit sundae

em: the funniest part of all our very tangled lore is like

em: none of it contradicts bc it’s even funnier when it’s Extremely Ugly And Messy

em: because lesbians are just... like that

---

obsetress: exes au au where viola did fuck jamie, the video rental shop scene is 100 times more awkward

em: don’t think about it don’t think about it dont

em: i am thinking about it

em: jamie has to deal with having been railed by all three of them instead of just the two

em: it feels very uneven to her bc rebeccas a doll, dani, u don’t understand, and ur only running into one ex,

obsetress: talk about the mortifying ordeal of being known

obsetress: "wait, that's your ex?" "yeah" "dani" "what" "dani" "what" jamie's voice is hushed but a lil pitchy and a lot panicky "i think i fucked your ex" "you think?" "i fucked your ex" "you fucked her or she fucked you? because i'm sorry, baby, but i really don't think––"

em: sorry, baby, but i really don’t think-

em: SCREAMED

obsetress: that might be my fave lil bit i've ever written adlfkjasdklf

em: dani being a little too interested in jamie getting railed is like. everything to me

obsetress: jamie's already big blushing

em: a little secret between hannah obsetress and em cowlesbian but i am So thinking abt it

em: patreon exclusive exes au au

[em edit: you can imagine how long this lasted]

obsetress: no one is happy about this situation except dani, who is delighted

em: after, jamie's like. what did u mean by u don’t think that...

em: puffs out her chest

em: i could have-

em: danis like yeah but i know u didn’t did u

obsetress: dani clayton ilu

em: danis like um

em: completely unprompted bc dani ‘finishes a conversation 5 hours later’ is really funny to me

em: danis like i did tho

em: jamies like can you DROP IT

em: she’s SMUG

em: she’s so pleased w herself

obsetress: in bed with the lights off jamie's pulling the sheets up and closing her eyes afterthought

obsetress: just a happy lil hum and an "i did, though"

obsetress: and jamie knows IMMEDIATELY what she's talking about

em: dani never lets jamie live it down

obsetress: never!

obsetress: they'll be washing dishes one day "hey baby?" "hmm" "you slept with a landlord"

em: oh um. flipping the whole ‘experienced jamie virginal dani’ trope everyone loves but

em: i love the idea of dani being like hey jamie did u ever- and jamies like (grumbles) does it matter

em: dani is mentally applying a gold star to her chart

obsetress: ksdljfskdfjlsdjflksdjaf

obsetress: the gold star

em: at this point dani is absolute just tryna tease jamie so she’s like oh well when- and jamies like ok i get it

em: jamie Pretends not to be a little interested

obsetress: meanwhile vi and rebecca very matter of factly swapped stories the first day they Realized

obsetress: vibecca swapping stories and their stories complimenting each other so well that they're like well. hmm

obsetress: glad those two found each other

em: two praise kinks u say

em: ok sorry one more thought i’m thinking abt like

em: jamie staying over (idk if this is before or during damie) and viola and perdi are having yet another spat on the phone and violas like

em: no you ALWAYS do this, whatever you think you’re doing with rebecca-‘ and she barely hears some muffled sorta ‘oh, sorry, remember jamie-

em: and jamies doing the maths. hmm

em: jamies like actually i refuse to examine this further. self care

em: brings it up with dani later and dani LOSES her shit laughing

em: haha jamie you got willoughby’ed

obsetress: SCREAMS

obsetress: you got willoughby'd

obsetress: how does one get willoughbyd asking for a friend

em: yeah same asking for a friend

obsetress: dani, gigglesnorting: wait, you hooked up with... with perdi?

obsetress: (dani hates perdita because viola hates perdita and it is a deep seated hatred she refuses to unlearn)

obsetress: a loyalty strange and enduring, despite it all

em: to be fair perdi is the Worst

em: all of these characters i love to make sympathetic and then perdi is where i draw the line akdhdkhd

em: it’s funnier if she’s awful

em: like a viola that never gets therapy

obsetress: lldjfkaskldfj god same

obsetress: it's too good

em: danis like wait hold on. lemme get a pen

em: makes a silly little chart

em: if the fandom tries to make jamie into a shane the l word character i will simply take that and make jamie mortified abt her uh. well! a pretty girl is nice to her and she forgets how to behave

em: jamie's like oh sure like u don’t have embarrassing flings- and danis like yeah but i don’t interact w them on a daily basis jamie

em: also i didn’t fuck perdi

obsetress: skskskflsdflks

obsetress: "you did fuck perdi though, right? because that just be embarrassing, jamie, if she had been the one who..."

em: skgsdjhdkdhdk

em: jamie grumbles something abt pillow princesses and dani like

em: CLAPS her hands in glee

obsetress: jlsdjflkJSDFKJSDFJ

obsetress: GOD

obsetress: she's immediately pulling out her phone to text vi

em: jamies like why would u message her sister that u freak n danis like oh no theyre very open with each other it’s uh. hmm. anyway

#this is one of my faves won’t lie hfydyst #featuring perdita who is. just #a terrible little delight gshdjfjv #idk what to say about this one except um. i’m sorry #and i hope u can still look me in the eye despite #being a grotty little multishipper #the dani jamie viola rebecca exes au #longggg one

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner One Shot: Growing Pains

Intro: No matter how much you want them to, your kids don’t stay kids forever…

Warnings: None, just a bit of bad language and Katie embarrassing Steve to shit!

Takes place in the SSB universe, November 2022.

“Mom.” Emmy’s voice was soft and Katie instantly looked up from her laptop. “Where’s Dad?” “He’s gone for a run, well as much of a run as he can with Jamie hanging off his back.” Katie said, frowning slightly as she saw her fifteen year old daughter wasn’t dressed for school “Is everything ok? I can call him.” “No, it’s fine. It’s you I wanted to talk to.” she said, hovering from one foot to the other. “I err…”

She looked down at her feet, a huge flush on her face. Katie closed her laptop and stood up. “Em?” “I think I, well, no I know I err… I started my period and…” “Oh sweetie.” Katie chuckled slightly as she wrapped the girl into a hug “I’m not gonna lie, being a woman sucks at times but other times it’s kinda cool.”

“Cool?” Emmy frowned.

“Yeah, boobs.” Katie said, gesturing to her chest “They tend to fascinate most men.”

Emmy gave a low chuckle before she bit her lip. “I err, I got some on the sheets.”

Katie smoothed back Emmy’s hair and shrugged “It’s no big deal. Look, why don’t you go have a bath, I’ll sort your bed and then we’ll sit and watch shit on TV all day. I can stay home.”

Emmy nodded eagerly “Snacks?”

“Dur.” Katie said, following her up the stairs. Emmy retreated into the bathroom, whilst Katie found her some pads before she stripped the sheets down and headed to the utility room at the side of the kitchen that held their washing machines and dryer. She was just turning the machine on when the door opened and Steve stepped in, Jamie on his back, giggling away. Steve’s face was red from the brisk November air and the part of Jamie’s cheeks which were visible from beneath his hat and above his scarf were also tinged pink a little.

“Laugh it up, pal.” Steve shook his head, as he bent down so Jamie could slide off his back “That’s the last time I’m taking you.” “You said that yesterday, and the day before.” Katie smirked, taking the kiss he offered, ignoring Jamie’s noise of disgust “You love it.”

“Hmmm.” Steve made a non-committal noise in his throat “Any breakfast going or shall I start some?” “Go get a shower and I’ll make it. We can eat together when Emmy’s sorted.”

Steve frowned “Shouldn’t she be on the bus?”

“She’s not feeling too good.” Katie said, “I told her I’d stay home with her.”

Steve’s frown deepened as he shrugged off his running jacket. “She ok?” “Yeah, nothing a day in front of the TV and a blanket can’t fix.” Katie said, giving him a significant look. As ever it took him a while to cotton on, but when he realised what she was saying, Katie really had to bite back the laugh as his face rearranged itself into a look of surprise, which flickered to pure dumbfoundedness as he struggled for a reply.

“Don’t worry, I got it.” Katie grinned, patting his chest.

“Momma?” a voice came from the kitchen and Katie turned to face Jamie who was stood by the fridge “I hungry.” “Yeah, I’m gonna start breakfast now baby.” she smiled, “Eggs and toast ok?” “Nomm!” he said, grinning as he padded over to the table and pulled himself up into a seat. Steve had to give a snort, without his seat he could barely see over the top of the table. He made his way over, lifted Jamie easily with one hand causing the boy to cackle before he replaced him back on the booster and scooted him closer.

“That better?” he asked, dropping a kiss to his son’s head.

“Fankoo daddy.” he grinned.

“You’re welcome kiddo.” he said straightening up. He turned to Katie “I’m gonna go shower then I’ll come help.”

Katie waved him away with a smile. He took the stairs two at a time and headed into their bedroom. If he was honest he’d been shitting himself about this day for ages. He’d watched Emmy grow up way too fast for his liking over the past few years and now…well he didn’t even want to think about the whole bringing a boy home thing that was going to pop up sooner rather than later he suspected. All he knew was he was thankful for Katie’s level head. He showered quickly, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a red plaid button down ready for his meetings that day and headed onto the landing, just as Emmy was emerging from the larger bathroom wrapped in a robe.

“Hey sweetie.” he said “Your Ma said you’re not feeling too good.”

She shrugged, “Not really.” “Will a hug help?” he asked and she smiled, nodding. He opened his arms and she stepped into them as he gave her a soft but firm snuggle.

“Thanks dad.” she said softly.

“Any time baby.” he said, dropping a kiss to her head “Now I’d go get dressed if I were you, before your brother eats all the breakfast.”

*****

When Steve came back that evening, his girls were pretty much in the same spot they had been in all day. When he asked if they’d moved Katie grinned and pointed out that they were both in clean sets of Pyjamas and Jamie was in bed, so of course they had moved. Although they were getting take-out for Dinner because she couldn’t be bothered to cook and it was Friday after all. With a good natured roll of his eyes he cast one final look at them over his shoulder before he headed upstairs to change, leaving them to watch Love Actually. It was early in the season, not being December until the week after but he knew what they were like when it came to Christmas so he left them to it.

“You know, I still never forgave Adam Rickman for breaking Emma Thompson’s heart.” Katie sighed as Emmy scoffed.

“Has dad ever bought you a really crappy gift?” she asked.

“No.” Katie said honestly. “He’s very thoughtful. Although the best gift he gave me wasn’t one he bought anyway.” “Your emerald?” Emmy asked, and Katie made a noise of affirmation. They fell silent for a moment before Emmy spoke again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Course.”

“If anything happened to Dad…do you think you’d ever like date again?”

Steve frowned slightly as he heard Katie exhale “That’s deep Em…I dunno. I don’t think I’d ever be able to love another man the way I love Steve. In fact I know I wouldn’t. What on Earth made you ask that?” “Oh, Brooke is trying to get Jen dating.” Em said “but she keeps saying she loves Brooke’s dad too much and I kinda think it’s sad as he’s been dead for years. ” “Yeah, well, the thing is Em when you’re in love, and I mean truly in love, it consumes you. That person becomes as much a part of your life as you are and to lose them like that…well I can’t imagine what a hole that would leave in their place.” Katie said gently.

“Yeah, suppose.” “You’ll figure that out soon enough.” Katie chuckled.

“Was dad your first love?”

“He’s been the only man I’ve ever truly been in love with yes.” Katie replied “For most people a first love and a true love are very different things.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, ok, for instance my first love was a guy called Mikey. My first boyfriend. I wasn’t much older than you, dated him for about twelve months.” Katie mused “I loved him, he was the first guy I ever slept with. Then there was Grant and we don’t talk about him, ever as he was an asshole.”

Emmy gave a snort

“Liar.” “Oh you so did!” Katie looked at him, unabashed he’d been listening “You kissed me after Rumlow’s party. You’d have kissed me before that as well if you hadn’t been such a chicken shit.” Steve rolled his eyes and flopped onto the seat at the opposite side of the coffee table. “You didn’t exactly push me away.” “Dur.” it was Katie’s time to roll her eyes as Emmy snorted “I’d been waiting for you to make a move for months.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at her as the teenager quipped “You were still a bit slow on the uptake back then I see.” “Err, less of your cheek young lady.” he said and she giggled.

“You know the first time we had sex he literally ripped my pants off.” Katie grinned at Steve and he pulled a face as Emmy cackled.

“Jesus, Doll.” he flushed bright red.

“Wasn’t the only time either.” his wife shot back and Emmy’s laughter became louder. “Okay,” Steve stood up with a sigh, shaking his head, not particularly wanting to discuss his sex life with his fifteen year old kid. “I’m gonna get the Thai Menu…”

Katie watched him go before she winked at Emmy and stood up, following him into the kitchen. She wrapped her arms around his waist and nuzzled into his shoulder.

“I love how after all this time I can still make you blush.” “You’re a damned nightmare.” he chuckled as his hands rest on top of hers, using them to pull her closer as he turned to face her.

“But you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.” he said, dropping a kiss to her lips.

****

He didn’t quite rip her pants off that night, but it was still passionate enough to send them both into an orgasm induced sleep almost straight away. But Steve was a light sleeper, not as light as he had been once-upon-a-time as sleeping besides his wife gave him a sense of peace. That said, his super-soldier hearing always woke him should something be out of place, so when he was pulled from his slumber it took him a while to realise that the soft voices he could hear downstairs was the TV. Knowing it could only be one person he swung his legs out of bed and pulled on a sweater before he padded down the stairs.

“Emmy? ”he asked gently as he opened the door to the living room. The teenager looked up from where she was sat, knees tucked up besides her.

“Couldn’t sleep.” she shrugged and his sharp eyes didn’t miss the movement her hand made over her tummy.

“Did you take anything?” he asked and she looked at him. “For the pain?”

“Oh, ”she flushed slightly, “yeah, but it hasn’t worked yet.”

He nodded and headed into the kitchen, putting on the kettle. He made the pair of them a hot drink, stuck the heat-pack in the microwave and then paused as he passed his cupboard. The cupboard where he kept his secret stash.

Well, if this wasn’t an occasion it was called for then what was?

Emmy looked up as he placed the peppermint tea down besides her, passed her the heat pack and then wordlessly produced the Dairy Milk bar from his sweatpants pocket.

“You’re giving me your chocolate?” Emmy looked at him.

“Don’t tell your brother.” Steve said as he sat next to her, flopping his feet up on the coffee table.

She grinned and unwrapped the bar, offering him a piece which he took and shoved in his mouth.

“You’re pretty clued up on all this given you’re like a hundred and five.” she grinned cheekily

“Yeah well, I’ve been with your ma for over ten years so I picked up a few tips.” he shrugged. She took a sip of her drink, rearranged her blanket and then picked up his arm so she could snuggle into him. He gently ran his hand over the back of her head as she got comfortable.

“What we watching?” he asked.

“Bad Boys.” she said.

Steve chuckled “I like this one. That is if I’m not too old to keep you company for a while?” “Nah.” she said, grinning as she dropped a kiss to his cheek. “You’re good.” Katie found the pair of them flat out on the sofa the next morning, Emmy’s head propped up on a pillow resting in Steve’s lap as the solider was stretched out down the long side of the L shaped sofa, fast asleep, arm round his daughter and a huge shit-eating-grin on his face.

Tags

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16@angelofhell-666@thewackywriter@marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75@jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @icanfeelastormbrewing @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes

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staycatcher · 5 years

Text

Anguish 001- Anguish

“Out of genuine free will, I, Lee Minho, exercise the divine right to reject my sacredly designed soulmate.”

Member: Lee Minho / Lee Know x Femme Reader (she / her)

Au: Frat Boi! Minho + Rejected Soulmate AU

Genre: Angst (some comedy?,, this series is gonna be angsty because of the whole ‘rejected soulmate’ thing)

Rated T for a whole lotta swearing, a frat party, crowds, usage of alcohol and mentions of drugs, intensity, reader is a bit socially anxious (please lmk if any other warnings are needed!💞🥺)

Word Count: 4k & manually double spaced between words & paragraphs for ease of reading!!!!🥵🤠🥰

Note: this is dedicated to @trixareforlix, they’re the first-ever friend I made on here and they’re the one who sparked this frat au idea!! Ilysm always angel!!<33

Edited: 201015 (Original: 190813 )

Anguish series 1/?- ~001~, 002

The anticipated day where you’d become magnetized, the world around you becoming a blur, your heart falling into perfect sync with the one destined for you truly… was not like that at all, actually! No, the stars were cruel to you, perhaps you did something awful in your past life to deserve this, but maybe what is more likely is that your soulmate’s just an asshole. After all, one’s soulmate was the complete opposite of one’s self. Soulmates were the yin to one’s yang and vice versa and all that. To keep one balanced, or whatever.

Now, you aren’t the angel everyone may claim you to be. You weren’t angelic, not at all. Eating ice cream for breakfast was not above you. Your nail polish was perpetually chipped. You couldn’t stand to keep your hair in the same style for too long; chopping it all off or seeing how long it could grow, dying it as bright as you could, and everything in between. You adorned yourself with two or three more piercings than your parents could get behind, bless them, you’re beginning to have trouble hiding your new tattoo. Habitually, you were sensitive, soft, a bit emotional, and tended to be a bit of a smartass. You weren’t blessed with physical grace, ceaselessly tripping over yourself, spilling and knocking over anything in your path, and dancing out of beat to blasted songs.

More often than not, you would go to bed later than planned. Tonight was one of those nights, but it was not because of your natural preference. You were not too figuratively dragged into this by someone who held the title of your best friend, someone whom you were currently thinking of ways of revoking that title from.

“C’mon, dummy! We’re almost there!” Jamie elbowed you, her eyes crinkled in laughter, whacking you on the back a bit too hard.

“Jamie, I must’ve forgotten, but why’re you even dragging me to this frat party again? Why not just go to your sorority instead?” You groaned, your two left feet were dragging behind you on the aged sidewalk, your fake Doc Martens feeling like cinder blocks.

“‘Cause Chris invited me and he’s being a little bitch about it because I keep canceling on ‘im! He keeps saying that my soulmate might be there!” She reminded you for the umpteenth time, rolling her head and eyes back in frustration, sighing before continuing. “And now it’s like- I might as well try and see! I mean, come on!~ I’m starting to think he’s right!” And for the umpteenth time today, you question why she’s falling for this. She’s sharper than this. But for some reason, just this once, she found a way to shoehorn Chris’s dumbassery to logic.

In reality, you could meet your soulmate at any time or place, so to say that one's soulmate might be there is like saying it might rain. Sure, it might. But it also can rain in any season so you can’t be wrong with saying that it might. It doesn’t always rain every day, all the time, so it also isn’t that likely. Rain depends on a lot more factors. But right now, you’re a little buzzed, so it sounded pretty sound.

“So he knows your soulmate?”

“I’d hope so! If not, I’d rip his bleached hay-hair right out of his thick skull!” Now, this is the Jamie you knew and loved, you couldn't help the endeared smile on your face. “When we could’ve been eating takeout and watching a musical-“

“So which frat are we going to again?” You had to interrupt her for her sake. Takeout and a movie would always remain superior to parties in your mind and you already didn’t want to be accompanying her to a frat house.

“Hmm… It’s like- uh... Signal kite zing- wait no- hold on-“

You guys must be tipsier from the pregaming than you thought. “Sigma? ‘Signal’ isn’t greek, I think you mean sigma! And ‘kite’ isn-”

“Right, whatever! Anyways, the abbreviation is SKZ-“

“Ohhh! We’re friends with some of them- We’re like best friends with Chris!! Why didn’t you say it was Chris’s frat in the first place?” Your laugh projecting out of you unattractively with claps and swings of limbs which led to slapping a little too hard at Jamie's shoulder. This clarification did make you feel a bit better. This wasn’t a shitty fraternity you didn’t know, this was a shitty fraternity you inevitably tolerated since you knew and even approved of some of its members!

SKZ was home to a hodgepodge of eight brothers who were pretty individual as far as frat dudes go. Some of which you were genuinely fond of, like Chris, or simply acquainted with, like Jisung, whom you shared a major and program with. Others, you couldn’t even remember the names of or who they are in general. It’s also the smallest frat on campus, so they try to get as many people to come to events as possible, which is honestly exhausting as a concept to your introverted self. Thus, you’ve never actually attended one of theirs until now, now that Jamie is dragging you along with her.

“Ow! I don’t know!~ I thought you were smart enough to figure it out when I mentioned Chris!” She teased, making the two of you laugh harder, you couldn’t defend yourself on that one. The two of you just continued your idiotic banter the rest of the way to the Sigma Kappa Zeta house aka the SKZ frat.

The walk to SKZ’s lair was a bit much, more than you and Jamie bargained for. You were so kindly carrying her platforms for her until she’ll put them back on again, only for you to probably end up kindly carrying them again later tonight. The cool breeze of the September night helped with the humidity and sweat, and the sun beautifully set, leaving a delicate lilac color in its wake which was becoming darker and darker the further you walked. The hazy streetlights added to the whimsy atmosphere, yet to be ruined with the sound of an intolerable amount of bass and the overbearing smell of beer and weed when the two of you arrived on site.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure it’s this house!” Jamie halted her steps, turning towards you, her hair swaying along with the belled sleeves of her mesh turtleneck she had under her dress. The two of you really dolled yourselves up for the night, her hair was perfect, your hair was perfect, outside was perfect, and it brought you sobering back to the not-so-perfect earth. The idea of going inside a suffocating, putrid house majorly crowded with drunk and hormonal peers... was not appealing to you in the least.

“Yup, and now it’s time to turn back around!” You quipped, ensnaring her arm with your empty one, about to steer the two of you in a three-point-turn. This was your final chance at getting out of your predicament, and now that you’re here you regret playing along. Sadly, Jamie was just as stubborn as you, and your turn around was met with a roadblock.

“Oh my god, Y/n, you’re joking! We walked the whole ass way here!” She got out in between puffs of airy frustration, her socked heels digging into the ground as you attempted, gracelessly, to steer the two of you around.

“Okay, okay, fine. We did come all this way and now our drinks’ve worn off.” You acknowledged with an irritated huff. “Okay- how about we go in and get some drinks, and then we’ll leave?!” Your pitch going up with each word of your attempt to negotiate before forcing out a chuckle, your laugh did its best to hide the fact that your body was beginning to stick with sweat and anxiety.

“No, ‘and then’ we’ll find Chris to hook me up!” She playfully fought back but it was hard to take her seriously, or yourself, with how the two of you were laughing, hers genuine, yours not so much.

“Jesus Christ, you really are set on this ‘finding your soulmate’ thing.” You breathed. As much as you hated social gatherings, you loved your best friend much, much more, therefore you were willing to be won over in the name of friendship. Though, she would owe you for this! Fortunately for her, food and drink is fair trade in you and your wallet’s eyes.

“I’m lonely, okay! I’d prefer winning the lottery but this is the next best thing!” Jamie, as per usual, brought the two you back right to laughter instantly. She had her mind made up. Plus, with you giggling it made it all the easier for her to haul the both of you right up the steps of the SKZ Frat House stairs.

Once in, Jamie stuck close to your side, literally, but not that she had the natural choice or much of an alternative; this place was packed to the gills! Jumping up on her now platform clad feet, looking for anyone she recognized or any signs of Chris, while you led the two of you, hopefully, to a kitchen. You were practically kicking yourself each step of the way as you shoved your way through the crowd. The air was stuffy and possibly even toxic, to say the least. The scent is much more foul than last you remember, pungent with alcohol, sweat, cigarettes, weed, hints of puke, and dashes of all sorts of pheromones. Despite the few times you’ve smelled this scent, it never failed to make you wish you didn’t leave your safe, sanitary bed.

There’s jabbing elbows and flailing parts of strangers everywhere that had to be watched out and dodged for, sloshing cups, sometimes drunken flirtatious hands grabbing at you, not at all fazed by the pretty companion you had your elbow linked with. The sway of the hoards of people was beginning to get you motion sick, but you were determined to keep wading through, trying to hike through this high tide, but you couldn’t help but feel vulnerable. You were cursed with a soft, approachable face that just begged to be messed with. Even in times like these, where your thoughts are nothing short of bitchy, the message would never get across with a resting bitch face. Your love for dark attire didn’t matter. Your baby face and aura won every match. Not even the eyeliner and dark lipstick you preferred could save you. All you could do is hope that your best friend’s intimidation and delightfully loud presence was enough for the two of you as you keep planting one foot after the other.

“Fucking hell!” You barely gasped out, finally freed out of the main room, and now into the hallway. The seasick claustrophobia no longer had its poisonous grips on your soft, easy to bruise skin, though, you did need to catch your breath.

“Finally!” Jamie sighed loudly and melodically, patting you on the back and easily recovering. Before she headed straight into the kitchen to scope out the place, possibly for anyone she knew and, perhaps, her Special Someone.

“So did ya see anyone you knew, Jame?” You called after her upon entering what appeared to be a stereotypical scene of the kitchen during a college party. Cliche red solo cups scattered everywhere, filled at varying degrees. A beer keg or two, some cheap bottles of vodka splayed about, remnants of ash from blunts, a couple or two aggressively making out against the wall, and four or five random stragglers fidgeting with their phone or talking overly loudly to each other. You know, the usual.

“Ughh, no” She answered reluctantly. “They have to be somewhere else, maybe, like upstairs or downstairs, right?!”

Before you could reply, behind you, you heard an enthusiastic “Jamie!!” then a muffled, “you finally made it!!” The familiar voice had you jerking your head to see if your ears were failing you, evidently, they weren’t. Right away you see Chris tackling Jamie in a hug before he met your eyes with his comically wide ones.

“Aaaahhh!! Y/n’s here too?!”

“Yeah! Don’t we look cute?” Jamie fluffed up her cropped, newly dyed hair you helped her do, yours also in a similar state.

“Yeah, but Y/n looks better.” He teased, giggling and slapping her in the arm; unsurprising, as it’s their usual fashion.

“Oh my god! Why did I come here?! Okay, we’ll leave then, Chris.” Jamie joked right back at him, snatching at your hand like it was a prize to be won and taking you away with her. Unfortunately for you, this was just a well-meaning joke, you weren’t going to be set free from a party anytime soon.

“Nooo! Don’t go!!” He dramatized, grabbing onto at Jamie, halting her from leaving with you in tow. Giggling so hard, he had to throw his head back to project it all. You snorted a “thank you” a bit late, too busy laughing. He just gave you a brotherly slap on the arm, on his way to leave before Jamie stopped him.

“Wait! What about my soulmate? You said they'd be here, remember!”

“Oh?” Chris’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion, Jamie nodded with stern wide eyes which seemed to spark back his doubtful memory, “Ahhh… downstairs… maybe… I think- hangin’ out! There’s a game about to start- Oh, yeah! That’s why I’m here-” he giggled to himself, “to get this!” He then snatched a full bottle of vodka from a sneaky cabinet you didn’t know about before ushering you guys along to follow him. Honestly, Chris didn’t make it sound too promising that Jamie’s soulmate could be down there, but it’s the best lead you got.

Shyly, you followed behind the two as he led the way to the basement. With Chris as your guide, it was relatively smooth sailing, the crowd parting minimally to make way for the president of the frat. Before you know it, you’re walking down some nasty ass carpeted stairs, forcing your eyes from questionable stains to look for a rail instead to hold onto. Strangely enough, walking down the steps was comforting somehow, the feeling as if it were inviting you in. Like it assigned you a duty instead of the alienating fish out of water experience you had earlier on the main floor.

“I picked up some stragglers!” Chris cheered as he turned into the room.

“Yeah, but did you bring the alcohol?” A brazen voice you’ve never heard before shot straight through you. You could feel it run through you with tingles down your spine and goosebumps up your arms.

“Hell yeah I did, ya jackass!”

When the two of you turned the corner, the world slowed down and your muscles instantly seized up, halting you into place without consent. Your insides clench tight, wrapping itself into a knot. Suddenly you were sweating, but in contrast, your vision looked as though you were looking through a nice refreshing glass of pink lemonade. Normally steady hands were now shaky, your ears and cheeks beginning to glow beet red. You could feel yourself beginning to sweat at the nape of your neck and underarms; all this from the sudden voice of the stranger! -What? What’s going on?!-

Immediately, your gaze pans around the room before they landed on the source, long-lashed eyes holding a dark chocolate glaze and shivering you to the bone. Like a hooked fish, you couldn’t look away. The initial astonishment of just the sensations couldn‘t compare to exploring the face in front of you.

Chiseled cheeks, and angular brows. Pouty naturally downturned lips were discovered underneath an impossibly perfect, pointy nose. Everything about him was like the artwork, his slightly covered forehead was somehow artistic as if even the space between the brow and the hairline was something new that your narrow mind could never possibly understand. His hairline soon revealed a head of luscious black hair, unrealistically voluminous, shiny and soft. Honestly, his hair was screaming at you to test out if it could be possible, that someone who looked like this was real. His entire face and head on his shoulders didn’t make conceivable sense. Maybe it’s just you, but a person this perfect couldn’t exist and you have yet to venture south to see how perfect the rest of him could possibly be.

“Y/n? Are- are you okay?”

You vaguely felt or heard your best friend at your side, but it wasn’t decipherable. Everything but this guy in front of you was fuzzy, blurry to you. All the energy in your being focused on this human in front of you. His silky, messily parted locks, begging for you to test if it was as soft as it looked. His sharp features. His lips a natural coral-y color that began to shine and glimmer with saliva as his glossy tongue began to trail along those chapped lips. You shot your eyes back to his, reeling you back in like the prey you began to feel. Oh, sweet, sweet baby Jesus, is this really happening?!

“I-“ both of you started at the same time. Embarrassingly enough, it seems as though the blurry figures of everyone else in the corner of your eyes caught on to something the two of you were oblivious to. Everyone started jumping and screaming, whooping chaotically, and taking over your vision. The slow world disappeared in a blink, launching you right back to its now rapid, woozy speed. With everyone pushing and shoving around you in excitement it was not at all helping with your wibbly-wobbly state.

Suddenly, you felt many different arms coming at you, wrapping around you, constricting you, and jumping around with you in their arms in excitement. There was a deafening amount of rambunctious hooting and hollering it was almost as if the team they were rooting for won the SuperBowl.

“And here I thought Y/n was Jamie’s soulmate!” Chris guffawed and they all joined in, all besides you and this guy- WAIT- did Chris say- say ‘soulmate’?? No, he couldn’t have!

“Soulmate?” Equally, as soon as you internally questioned the word choice, you heard his earth-shattering voice speak again, despite the fact he merely whispered, softly wondering aloud. He spoke aloud what you were thinking, right when you thought it!

You couldn’t get enough of his voice, especially now when you can’t see him in the crowd. His voice was light, honey-colored, dreamy, just the perfect amount of deep, it made you want to taste his lips to see if he’s as sweet as he sounded. You, yourself, were still in the locked-in-place state, still too shell shocked to even make a step forward, your poor brain overworking itself to make sense of any of this.

“Really?” In elated shock you chirped, slowly giving in to the hugs and excited jumping with wide and confused eyes. Is this for real? This is really happening?!

“Holy fuck, Y/n!” Jamie managed to get you, pulling you a bit too crushingly in a hug. “I can’t believe it! You found your soulmate in this shitty basement and not me!” She playfully teased, there was no ill will behind it.

By now the situation was beginning to sink in a teeny bit and you were shocked, to say the least. Frankly, you were starting to think that this day would never come. You had a soulmate and your soulmate looked like that! You were over the moon, even if you felt a bit guilty that you found your soulmate at this party instead of Jamie. It was the plan of this whole night, after all. Now that it was you, you didn’t know how to react. You were completely and utterly unprepared.

“I’m so sorry, Jamie.” You pulled her back in closer, crushing her back into you, eyes watering, lip trembling. “Oh my god, I think I might- I think I might cry.” You hiccupped into her chic mesh turtleneck and dress combo. This is too much. Too too much.

“Heyy!~ Don’t feel bad for me! It’s okay!” Jamie simply chortled, patting your head deeper into her chest, her usual protocol if you were about to seriously cry.

Humiliatingly enough, you heard a few guys begin to chant “don’t cry!” in the background. Your small moment of sincerity and calm was soon interrupted by Chris.

“Well isn’t this fun! You know what this means!”~

“Minho’s soulmate’s a lil’ bitch?” You heard Jisung, the kid whom you shared your major and many classes with, taunt. His words forcing you forward, ready to fight the kid. He’s a child, literally a child! Why do I associate myself with him?! I swear to god-

“Hey, hey, hey! It was a joke!” He squeaked away from you. He was too speedy, no chance for you and your heavy ass boots stomping after him. Safely, he skidded behind the couch, behind whom you’re assuming is “Minho”, which had your boots screeching to a halt.

Though you were scrambling after Jisung, your eyes naturally met Minho’s as you halted. Once again, your body is preparing to either fight or flight. His face was glowing like he was some sort of ethereal being, wracked up in deep, attractive concentration. In contrast, your face was beginning to burn up an embarrassing amount, your body already turning into inoperable mush. You couldn’t say anything if you tried. Any sentence structure your brain tried to form didn’t make any grammatical or logical sense, your mind racing like a hamster on a wheel. Your neural pathways were glowing, steaming with this sudden overstimulation, leading you to the same frazzling answer each and every time:

This person right in front of you? Yeah, that’s your soulmate.

A hush was spread throughout the previously hype basement, all eyes immersed in the two of you speechlessly enraptured in each other. The longer you stood there, the more you could take him in and get used to him and the idea of him. You were warming up to him, he became more and more real with each millisecond. You've studied his eyes so passionately now that could see his dark chocolatey pupils when you closed your eyes. You were no longer overwhelmed but now enchanted by his features and general presence. His cheekbones are no longer an unfamiliar art piece. His aura was still intimidating as before, but now it appeared to the cheeky kind of way like you wanted to see what amount of scary he was capable of. It was a long, jittery, drawn-out pause before anything happened, not that you noticed.

“Out of genuine free will,” You just smiled, staring at his naturally downturned lips. Only by reading his lips did you pay attention to what he was saying- Wait, what?

“I, Lee-” Hold on a second.

“Minho-” No.

“Exercise the divine right to” This isn’t happening to me. This isn’t-

“Reject my sacredly designed-” happening. No. No. It can’t be. It’s not p-

“Soulmate.” -ossible.

The electric, exciting, high energy pause between us fell and wilted. Died just like that. The connected red strings that tied Minho and yourself were chopped off on his own accord, bringing icy cold into the room in its wake. A harsh blizzard overwhelming the space. Gasps of shocked air were being taken in from everyone in this basement, everyone, including Lee Minho.

You got a gasp of bitter cold in through your lungs before you were struck like lightning. Lightning of feverish torture took over your body, struck you directly in the heart and brain before it flashed through your veins carrying the harsh poison of rejection.

You heard a pathetic squawk tear its way out of your chapped lips, the anguish forcing you down to your knees as if you were directly stabbed in the heart. The electric, immediate painful reaction faded, bringing boiling throbs through all your cells, not leaving one out. It was unlike anything you could describe, no, imagine. It was as if the blood in your veins was replaced with boiling water and your heart was simultaneously squeezed and electrocuted in the grasps of electric hands. Maybe it was the hands of Satan dragging you down with him.

Blurrily, through fresh, hot tears, you swear you could see Minho physically flinch in response, immediately, sprinting out of the room as if he was escaping from a house on fire.

That was the last you saw before it all faded to black.

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myhockeyworld87 · 5 years

Text

Unspoken - Jamie Benn

Requested: No

Song Inspiration: Thomas Rhett - Marry Me

Word Count: 3808

Warnings: I think I kept it to a minimum of one swear word. Yay for me!

Notes: Yeah, I’m still in the Jamie Benn feels, and when I was listening to this song I just thought of him; because he seems so damn honorable and loyal. Plus you guys really seemed to like the other two Jamie Benn ones I wrote. Also, (Y/FN) is your full name. Enjoy!

JAMIE’S POV

It was the day that you’d dreaded most since you came into this world. Twenty-nine years, it had taken that long for this day to come; the day you handed off the woman you loved to someone else. Six years old, that’s when you first met her. Her family had moved into the house next to yours; you’d spied on her that day, and numerous days after. Hair up in pigtails, carrying a doll; she walked into the house she’d call home for the next fifteen years.

You’d been hoping that your new neighbors would have a boy that you could play with, but instead all you got was a dumb little girl. With time, that same stupid girl became your best friend. She was at every hockey game, cheering from the stands; your name hand written on the back of some t-shirt. She held all your secrets over the years, but one. It was her who held your hand the night before the draft, trying to calm your nerves; even though she should’ve been someplace else, with someone other than you.

The day you left for Dallas you’d both cried; you’d been eighteen then, and not only were you leaving your family you were leaving (Y/N). She was the one constant thing in your life over the last twelve years; other than your family. Letting go of her that day was like losing a piece of yourself; little did you know it was only going to be magnified hundred fold today.

Even though over two-thousand miles separated you; you still would talk to her every day; and as her college years passed, you found yourself urging her to move closer to you. And so she did. Finding a job less than ten miles from where you lived. Now instead of some home-made t-shirt, she’d wear your jersey to home games; as she continued her support of your career. Never in a million years would you have thought, that support would lead her into another man’s arms.

They’d literally run into each other, during intermission at one of your games; him offering to buy her a drink after the encounter. From there you saw her slip from your grasp one day at a time. Oh she still came to the games, only this time she wasn’t seated in the section reserved for player’s family; she was seated beside him. Fate was cruel to you, as it had his seats down low toward the glass; so that as you’d warm up you could watch him whisper sweet words in her ear or steal a kiss.

All of which led up to the day she called you excitedly, telling you she got engaged. You’d tried to sound happy for her; even though your heart had just shattered into a billion pieces. Problem was you couldn’t even hate the guy; by all means he was everything she deserved. He just wasn’t you. So here you stood, night before her big day, off in the corner; beer in one hand, whiskey in the other, as you drown your sorrows. There wasn’t enough liquor in North America to numb the pain in your heart.

Vaguely, you thought about confessing your feelings to her; but that wouldn’t be fair to her. Her happiness meant more to you than anything; even if that meant you had to give her up. Your eyes stalked her; watching her smile and chat amiably with all those gathered to celebrate the happy couple. You were so engrossed in following her, you hadn’t seen her father step beside you; until his hand was on your shoulder. “Son, if you don’t say something to her tonight; I will.” Head whipping around as his words sunk in, you quirked a brow at him. “I can’t stand by and watch you both make any more mistakes. If I thought he could make her happy, I wouldn’t be here talking to you right now; but you and I both know he’s not the right man for her.” Looking you deep in the eyes, he added softly “You are.”

He was gone, as quickly as he came; swallowed up in the crowd of well-wishers; leaving you to contemplate your fate. Was he right? Was there a chance that she was making a mistake? The better question here was; did she feel the same way about you, as you did her? There would only be one way to find out; and you were man enough to know that it had to come out of your lips.

Patiently you waited as guest after guest retired for the evening; all getting a good night’s rest before tomorrow’s festivities. That’s when you saw her go upstairs; to the room she’d moved into all those years ago. Taking the stairs two at a time, you trailed after her. Knocking softly, you didn’t wait for her to answer as you entered her room; closing the door and the rest of the world behind you. She stood there, back to you; staring at the most perfect white gown hanging on her floor length mirror. She didn’t turn around, didn’t need to; you could already see her reflection. Eyes wide, gazing not at the delicate beads and lace of the dress; but burrowing deep down into yours.

You swallowed hard as a vision of her in that dress walking down the aisle towards you formed in your mind; but you couldn’t get to that image unless you spoke your truth now. “(Y/N)” it was then that she turned and faced you. Inhaling deeply, you gathered your wits, as to what you would say next. Running your hands through your hair once, you stuck them in your pockets to prevent yourself from reaching for her; all the while she just stared back at you, willing you to say more.

Finding your voice you spoke the words that you’d pushed back for years. “Don’t do this (Y/N). You know it’s a mistake. You shouldn’t be with him.” She didn’t speak, just blinked rapidly at what she’d just heard come out of your mouth. Her chest rose and fell, as she tried to take in more oxygen; gathering her courage to say something back. Though there was more you needed to tell her. “He’s not the right man for you.” Echoing the words her father had spoken only hours ago to you. “I am. I love you (Y/N). I have for years; I just didn’t know how to tell you. And I know this is a lousy time to tell you. But I was afraid if I didn’t, we’d both lose out on something special.”

A tear slid down her cheek; and it took every ounce of strength you had, not to wipe it away. Instead you stood, stalk still willing her to express her love for you. “Jamie, I….” she turned away and your heart fell through the floor. “I just…how am I supposed to…why didn’t you…” so many phrases started and left unsaid; you knew exactly what she was saying without voicing the words.

She turned back toward you as you spoke, “I know, I should’ve said something sooner; and I can’t tell you what you should do. I just know I love you, with my whole heart and soul. If you let me, I want to love you from today and every day after that.” You would’ve fallen down on one knee right then and there if you’d had anything remotely close to a ring to give her. “Do you remember that day, what were we; sophomores or something. Robbie had just broken your heart, and you came over to my house sobbing about the whole issue.” When she nodded, you continued; “I held you in my arms while you cried. It was that moment right there, that I knew I loved you.” Her eyes widen, as if she couldn’t fathom you loved her all the way back then. “I couldn’t believe that he’d been so damn dumb as to cheat on you.” A small chuckle escaped your lips, “I beat the shit out of him the next day. Broke his nose if I remember right. It wasn’t enough, he deserved so much more. I never wanted anyone to hurt you, ever.” More tears fell from her eyes; in the back of your mind it registered that you were the one hurting her now. “Then when I had to leave you to go to Dallas, I thought I was going to die without you. I was going to tell you the night before. I had a whole speech prepared. Damn I’d even bought a ring, if you could call it that. I didn’t know what my future held but even then, I knew I wanted you in it.” That ring was still in your dresser drawer; if only you had it now. “But it wasn’t fair to you and even at that young age I knew that. Which is why I didn’t say a word.”

You took a step towards her, “I don’t know why I didn’t say anything when you finally moved to Dallas. You’d moved on with your life in college, just as I had; and the timing never seemed right. Then you met Ethan, and I never thought it’d get this far.” Truly you hadn’t, deep down you thought it was just a fling; you’d both had many over the years. “If I had known….I would’ve said all this sooner.” You couldn’t read the emotions playing across her face; didn’t know what she was thinking.

Finding her voice, she finally spoke; “Jamie, I love you too, you know that.” Joy filled your heart, it was everything you’d ever wanted her to say. “But I can’t…I can’t do this to Ethan. All these people came to see us get married. I can’t just leave him hanging.”

“Fuck all those people.” You were angry, you wanted her to choose you. “I don’t care about their happiness; I only care about yours. And if you can stand there and tell me that Ethan will make you happier than I can; I’ll walk out that door right now and never say another word.”

You could see her struggling, not knowing what to tell you. “Jamie, I…I love Ethan too. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

One long step had you face to face with her, grabbing her shoulders; as if you could transfer the words you wanted to hear by that contact. “I want you tell me you love me, that you want to be with me and only me.”

“I….I…I” anything else was lost, as she just dissolved into tears, weeping into your chest. Tightening your arms, you held her, just as you had all those years ago; as sob after sob wracked through her body.

Softly you murmured words in her ears. “I love you (Y/N)…It’s all going to be ok…I’m here…I love you.” How long the two of you stood there you weren’t sure; it could’ve been hours, you would’ve preferred it to be years.

When she pulled back her tear stained face tugged at your heart. She took a deep breath, “I need some time Jamie. Just give me tonight to think it all over.”

It wasn’t the answer you wanted; but one you could live with. “Ok,” and then before you could stop yourself, you leaned down and pressed your lips to hers. It was your first kiss with (Y/N), though it wasn’t how you wanted it to happen. You didn’t ask for anything she wasn’t willing to give; so, when she opened for you, you deepened the kiss. You let your mouth show her all the things your heart wanted to give her. She tasted faintly of champagne, but the essence was all (Y/N). Pulling back you settled your forehead on hers, relishing the moment before you said; “you know where I’ll be, if you need me.” With that you turned and strode out the door praying she’d make the right decision.

READER’S POV

As Jamie closed the door, you fell to your knees. Your whole life all you wanted was this man to tell you that he loved you; that he chose this moment, the night before your wedding to someone else, tore at your heart. Why had he waited? It echoed through your brain until the only answer that came back was; why had you?

He spoke of that time long ago when he first knew he’d fallen in love with you; ironically it had been around the same time that you’d fell for him. Though a completely separate instance. Mind drifting back to that day, you could see it clearly as if it was happening now. It was the end of your sophomore year, when he took a hit hard into the boards and went down; your breath had caught in your throat. You remember grabbing his mom’s hand at the same time she reached for yours. His body lay limp on the ice, not moving; your heart had stopped beating as well. The trainer scrambled on the ice as the whistle blew. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, but what was in reality only seconds; Jamie rolled onto his back. Blood covered his beautiful face; yet you could see him wince in pain. You wanted to run to him; his mother’s restraining hand prevented that. Eventually he got up and skated off the ice going directly into the locker room. Calmly you took a breath, and looked at his mom for how to proceed. When she didn’t move, you wanted to scream at her; Jamie was hurt and you needed to be with him. In the years to come you would learn that, that’s not how you handle things when the one you love gets injured during a game. So you waited, as patiently as possible; until the game was finally over and you could go see him.

He wasn’t hurt as badly as you thought, although there were stitches. Taking him home, you wander upstairs to his bedroom with him; the black and blue marks becoming more predominant as time went on. He crawled into his bed, body sore from the hit. You’d tried to be helpful, shuffling pillows around to make him as comfortable as possible. Finally when he seemed content, you went to leave. He reached out his hand then, halting your progress; and so you climbed in beside him, feeling his strong heart beat beneath your ear. It was in that moment that you knew you never wanted to leave this man; that you would love him with every breath you had.

So then why were you marrying a man that wasn’t Jamie? Getting up off the floor, you headed towards the window; peeking through the curtains you saw the light on in his room. You knew he was there, probably pacing back and forth; waiting for your answer. You had none at the moment.

Years you’d followed him around, always being his cheerleader; standing off to the side as he made a name for himself. Until one day, you met Ethan. It was cliché to say, but he sort of just swept you off your feet. He was smart, funny and handsome in a classical way; and he never held anything back, especially his love. Not that Jamie had, you’d always known on some level that Jamie loved you; you just didn’t know that it was in more than a friendship way. Now that you knew, it changed everything.

Walking away from the window, you climbed into bed; staring at the blank ceiling as if it would provide you with all the answers. It gave you nothing. Minutes turned into hours. As one would pass, you’d think of the past with Jamie; in the next you’d think of Ethan.

Ethan’s proposal had been the things little girls fantasized about. He’d whisked you away to New York City, on the premise of a business trip; and that the two of you could catch a Broadway show. After the show, you both hopped in one of the horse drawn carriages, for a ride through Central Park. It had been magical, like something out of a fairytale; yet you had no clue what was coming. A beautiful bridge, lit with soft twinkle lights was the backdrop for the setting. Holding his hand the two of you strolled to the center, before he stopped you; dropping to one knee. Declarations of love fell from his lips; and in that moment what else could you say but yes. Now as you lay in your bed, you could only question if that was the right choice to make.

Eventually dawn came; yet with it you still had no answers. A knock on your door, had you climbing out of the safe haven you’d created. It was your dad; he stood there, not saying a word. Wordless you went into his embrace. You’d thought you cried everything out last night, but a dam of tears flooded your eyes once again. “What do I do?” It was all you could say as you stared up at your father.

“I can’t tell you that sweetie, only you know the answer. But you know I’ll support you, whomever you choose.”

All the money, all the people, they were all here for one thing; for you to marry Ethan. He was a good man; he would love you forever. But then there was Jamie, he was just as good, just as loyal. He’d been your best friend since before you could remember. His love was true, and pure; the stuff that withstood the hands of time.

You took a deep breath, bringing both to the forefront of your mind. You made your choice then and there; and so, you went on with getting ready, busying yourself with hair and makeup. Until it was finally time. Sliding into the car, your heart pounded; it felt like it could beat right out of your chest. The drive seemed endless, but then the car finally pulled up to the destination.

Your dad reached out and grabbed your hand, helping you out; so you could make your way to the church doors. One step at a time, you made your way inside. It was crowded, everyone dressed in their finery to see you marry Ethan. The music started, and one by one your bridesmaids made their way down; until only you and your father stood in the back. Closing your eyes, you let the melody wash over your body; mentally preparing yourself for the long walk down the aisle. You pictured it in the back of your mind. The doors would open, you’d be standing there on your arm of your dad; ready to take the steps to the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with.

Eyes flying open, you turned; “Daddy…” tears started to flow. Somewhere you realized you hadn’t called your father that since you were a little girl. “I can’t…I was wrong.”

He looked at you and smiled, “Go! I’ll handle this.” With that he handed you the keys, as you slid your engagement ring off your finger for him. As fast as your high heels could go, you rushed out the door. Time seemed to slow down; you couldn’t get in the car fast enough, the damn dress impeding you. Finally, you pulled into the drive, scrambling out of the vehicle; you ran to the front porch you’d gone up thousands of times. The door was open, walking in you called for him; “Jamie…Jamie.” Halfway up the stairs he came out of his room; dressed in a black suit with a black tie hung loose around his neck, flask in hand. Right there you knew you’d made the right choice. It was Jamie; it was always going to be Jamie. Tears of joy streamed down your face. He was staring at you, a look you couldn’t describe on his face. Slowly you made your way until you stood only arm’s length away from him. “I couldn’t do it Jamie. I don’t love him. I love you, only you….” Anything else was lost, as his lips crushed yours.

You couldn’t get enough of him; arms going around his neck, you pulled him closer. He tasted of whiskey and promises; you never wanted to let go. Tongues entangled, moans exchanged and still it wasn’t enough. You could spend a lifetime with this man, planned on spending it with him; and it would still not be adequate. When you both needed air, you broke the kiss, and looked at the man you loved with your whole heart. Tears stained his face, just as they did yours. “I thought I lost you forever.”

“No, Jamie I’m right here. Right where I’m supposed to be.”

“God, you look so beautiful.” Smiling at you, all you could see was love in his eyes. He kissed you again, fast and hard this time; then stepped back keeping your hand in his. He dropped to one knee then, “(Y/N) I know I waited too long to tell you I loved you; but I plan on making up for that everyday for the rest of our lives if you let me. From the moment I saw you walk into the house next door; I knew that you’d be a life long friend. What I didn’t realize was that you would become my best friend and love of my life. You’ve always supported me no matter what I’ve done; and now I want to do the same for you. I want to love you, cherish you and make you the happiest woman alive. You are my life, my world and my everything; and if you give me the chance, I want to show you that today and every day after that. I love you (Y/N)” He reached in his suit pocket and found a small ring, as tears flowed from both your eyes. “(Y/FN) would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Falling to your knees, you joined him. “Yes, Jamie; yes, I want to be your wife. It’s all I ever wanted.” Hand shaking, he slid the petite diamond he’d bought for you at age eighteen, onto your finger. Then he kissed you, soft tender lips caressing yours. Your hands cupped his face, just as his did yours. It was a kiss that spoke of promises made and promises to come. One that told of two people destined to be with each other.

When it finally ended, you look deep into his brown eyes; “I love you Jamie Benn. I love you now and I will love you until the end of time.”

“And I love you (Y/FN), from today until I draw my last breath.”

#jamie benn #jamie benn imagine #jamie benn imagines #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #fanfic

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starringemiliaclarke · 4 years

Text

Press: Emilia Clarke interview: the Game of Thrones star on leaving Westeros behind to tackle the West End

Emilia Clarke interview: the Game of Thrones star on leaving Westeros behind to tackle the West End

Clarke, who now stars in Chekhov’s The Seagull, tells Louis Wise that the HBO fantasy series made her feel like a ‘small cog in a big machine’

Gallery Links:

PHOTOSHOOTS & OUTTAKES > 2020 > 2020 The Sunday Times

MAGAZINES > 2020 > 2020 The Sunday Times Culture Magazine – March 15

The Times: Emilia Clarke says she views herself primarily as a stage actress, which is a little weird when you consider that she has only appeared in one play professionally before, and it was an absolute turkey. Or, as the 33-year-old star of Game of Thrones says, in her jolly British way, it was “terrible, awful, awful! Bad! That was a bad show!” The piece was Breakfast at Tiffany’s on Broadway in 2013, and it’s safe to say Clarke’s Holly Golightly did not enchant. “I’ll never forget, someone said to me after press night the only thing they liked was the cat.”

If Clarke relays this with surprising good humour, this is part temperament, part experience. For one thing, in person she is relentlessly chipper and pukka. Whereas on HBO’s mega-fantasy series Game of Thrones, she grew in stature as Daenerys Targaryen, a still, dignified stateswoman (until that end), in real life she is a goofy motormouth chatterbox, always eager to catch the joke at her expense. And she is no stranger to what we shall politely call “the mixed review”. She has known some drubbings, whether for that Broadway show, or films such as Last Christmas or Terminator Genisys, or indeed the final series of GoT, which — euphemism alert! — didn’t quite turn out the way everybody wanted.

Luckily she never reads reviews. “Because if it’s really, really good, someone will tell you. And if it’s really, really bad — some f***** will tell you.”

We are meeting today, though, at a rehearsal space in south London, because she is chucking herself back into the fray. For only her second stage appearance, Clarke is going straight into the West End, in Chekhov’s The Seagull, and taking on the prestigious role of Nina. If she is nervous, she’s handling it in the usual way, which is to say with huge blasts of good cheer.

Two clichés about meeting starsis that they are a) smaller than you thought, but b) their features are stronger than expected. Both are true of Clarke. She is tiny, proper Kylie-tiny, nicely decked out in a gauzy beige-cream knit, some fashionably frayed jeans and pointy, well-worn white cowboy boots. Yet her eyes and grin look extra big: if she stays still, she’s a dainty doll, but as soon as she moves it’s Looney Tunes. To be clear, she never stays still.

This energy feels helpful, as we have a lot to pack in. After all, Clarke’s past decade has been particularly wild. Not only did she rocket suddenly to fame in GoT (until then, her only screen credit was an episode of Doctors), she also lost her father to cancer in 2016 and, as she revealed in 2019, had suffered a sequence of brain haemorrhages in her early twenties, just as the madness of GoT was kicking off.

In private, she experienced various exhausting surgeries at the same time as becoming one of pop culture’s favourite mascots, scrutinised relentlessly on a moral, artistic and very physical level. She recalls being in hospital recovering from an operation and picking up a newspaper. “I was, like, ‘I’m going to see if I can read it,’” she says. “And I was, like, ‘Oh my God, there’s a review of the show. And, oh God, they are just talking about how fat my arse is.’”(Which is the last review she read.)

All of which brings us to the elephant, or dragon, in the room. Over seven seasons, Daenerys, aka Khaleesi, Mother of Dragons, had one hell of an arc, going from weak dynastic pawnto all-conquering queen, a kind of Catherine the Great with sub-Barbarella hair. And then, oops! Daenerys, thrilled at almost achieving her goal of ruling the Seven Kingdoms, lost the plot, turned into a psychotic dead-eyed tyrant, massacring a whole city and essentially going the full Pol Pot. She was then abruptly bumped off by her lover-cum-nephew, Jon Snow, and a worldwide fanbase stopped and went: what?

For Clarke, it had been a hard secret to keep — she had known the ending long in advance. She admits she is still processing it all.

“When the show did end, it was like coming out of a bunker. Everything felt really strange. Then obviously for it to have the backlash it did …” Did she expect it? She slows down, a rare occurrence. “I knew how I felt when I first read it, and I tried, at every turn, not to consider too much what other people might say, but I did always consider what the fans might think — because we did it for them, and they were the ones who made us successful, so … it’s just polite, isn’t it?”

It’s clear Clarke is caught between her close friendship with the series’ creators, David Benioff and DB Weiss, and her deep awareness of what most fans wanted. In fact, she first suggests that it’s the news wot done it.

“I do think that the global temperature, how much horrific news there is consistently, goes a way to explain the enormity of the fans’ outrage,” she argues. “Because people are going, finally, here’s something I can actually see and understand and get some control back over … and then when that turns, and you don’t like what they’ve done …”

Hmm. It’s a nice theory, but with Daenerys we were just denied a happy ending, right? She nods quietly. “Yeah.” So did not getting that also make her sad? She tries to explain that “as an actor” it was actually all “a gift”, but eventually the tornado of diplomacy peters out. “Yeah, I felt for her. I really felt for her. And yeah, was I annoyed that Jon Snow didn’t have to deal with something?” She lets us out an exasperated laugh. “He got away with murder — literally.”

She also eventually agrees with the critique that the final season condensed far too much in far too little time (“We could have spun it out for a little longer”) and that it could simply have had more dialogue. “It was all about the set pieces,” she agrees. “I think the sensational nature of the show was, possibly, given a huge amount of airtime because that’s what makes sense.”

Is she at least happy it ended when it did? “I mean, ‘happy’ is a funny word. It’s a strong word. Again, the show was so big. I was a small cog in a very, very, very big machine …”

What she means, though, is that she actually liked this. The show provided a routine, a family, something to fall back on every year; it also gave her experience. “I very much feel my career is something that’s happened to me, as opposed to the other way around,” she says. But she can see that being a cog has its limits, as doesforever having to cater to fans and, yes, to the press. “Doing a show so many people had opinions about doesn’t serve your creativity on any level.”

All of which explains why she is doing this Seagull with Jamie Lloyd, the director who just landed raves for his Cyrano with James McAvoy. And, yes, although she knows it’s “hilarious”, she somehow does “identify closer with theatre”. This is mostly to do with her dad, who was a theatre engineer; her mother is a vice-president in marketing for a management consultancy firm. Clarke and her brother had an idyllic-sounding childhood in Oxfordshire. Inspired by her father’s job, she always wanted to be an actress, apparently from the age of three. “I think of him whenever I’m walking through the West End,” she says. “My dad is everywhere in the theatre, 100%.”

She says this happily; I get the impression she hasn’t finished grieving, she’s just moved on to a better, celebratory phase. How would he feel about her playing Nina? “I think he would be nervous for me,” she says with a chuckle. It is, she knows, a big role: Nina, the aspiring actress whose dreams of fame are dashed, but who plugs away regardless. “I was never your Nina at drama school, that’s for sure,” says Clarke. “I wasn’t really a favourite [there], at all.”

Instead, she got parts like Jewish grannies, or “a down-and-out, pissed-off, washed-up prostitute”. But did she always want to be Nina or Juliet? “Well, of course I did. Oh my God, yeah. So I’m in no doubt there’s still some of that in me where I’m like: ‘Oh my God, guys, check it out! Finally she got there.’”

Clarke does like to cast herself as an underdog, although, thankfully, she does seem mostly to be aware that she is coming from a place of privilege. By the end of GoT she was reportedly paid $500,000 an episode. Is money a concern any more? “I am careful,” she says. “I’m a lot more careful now than I was.” She has a lovely house in north London with a bar in the garden. She can pick jobs for their artistic content first and foremost (“I want to work with an auteur!”). So yes, she knows she has it good, which is why she waited several years before revealing her brain trauma.

“I didn’t want to turn it into this celebrity sob story. I didn’t want people’s pity or ‘Oh, poor little rich girl, your successful life ain’t good enough?’” She is now happy she did it. “It’s done a huge amount of healing for me, being able to open up about it.” Her health status is “beautiful” now. “I was match-fit six weeks after the second surgery [in 2013],” she clarifies. “But mentally …”

On the other end of the spectrum, her fame has made something else hard: dating. “I am single right now …” She says with a smile. “Dating in this industry is interesting. I have a lot of funny anecdotes, a lot of stuff I can say at a fun dinner.” She was last seen in 2018 with a film director, and before that she was linked to Seth MacFarlane and James Franco. Does she mostly date fellow actors, because that’s how the industry works? “I was, and now I’m not,” she says — more smiles.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say I’ve completely sworn off them, but I do think actor relationships that are successful are few and far between, and you have to have a ton of trust.” Now and then her friends tell her to try Raya, the dating app that is supposedly for more exclusive celeb types. When she looks at it, though, “it’s just models. What am I going to do there?”

In short, everything about Clarke’s life is still monumentally weird, but she is doing a good job of pretending it’s not. After the play, she has “any one of nine projects that could go at the end of this year, and I have no idea which one will win”. A lot, she announces, are “dark”. Would she do fantasy again? “I think, if I did, it would be me having a giggle,” she says. I take this to mean her doing a send-up, a kind of Extras take on GoT, but no: “I want to do something absolutely stupid and silly, like, you know, The Avengers or whatever. Something where I got to have a giggle with mates.”

I’ve never thought of the Marvel mega-franchise as a downtime laff with pals, but that’s the level Clarke is operating on. I suppose it’s a pretty good happy ending.

The Seagull, Playhouse, London WC2, until May 30

Press: Emilia Clarke interview: the Game of Thrones star on leaving Westeros behind to tackle the West End was originally published on Enchanting Emilia Clarke | Est 2012

#emilia clarke #game of thrones #game of thrones cast #GOT cast #daenerys targaryen #me before you #terminator

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writingmilo · 5 years

Text

Losing Maya

@honestlyitsjustkenna, @goldenoceanaart, @thelunarmasquerade, @theluckoftheclaws, @ashphoenix06, @jackandmarksavedme88, @samariah-keeper

Maya had been in the coma for three months. She had missed so much, her birthday, Kenna’s birthday, Damien and Celine’s return, the addition of Marin to the family. She had been able to hear people talking to her though, and somewhere everything she was told got stored.

While she had been asleep, Anti had visited her subconscious frequently, making sure that she couldn’t forget him or escape his clutches, but the strings did loosen, and slowly his visits started to bring the fear they were supposed to.

It was one particular visit, it had caused her so much distress that her body was twitching wildly, and Henrik was certain she was having some sort of seizure. After he had made himself certain that everything was okay, and he had calmed Kenna down by going over everything with her, they left her alone, Kenna distressed and needing the company. It was then that Maya sat up, Anti materialising next to her and helping her remove all of the IVs and monitors. The heart rate monitor was the final one they removed, and by the time it showed her flatlining, they had gone.

“You saved me. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing Stray.” They continued walking for a while, even though Stray couldn’t see any end they were walking towards. “Oh, we are going to have some fun you and me Stray.” His grin spread over his face, morphing to become sinister.

“What are we going to do master?” She looked at him questioning.

“Nothing, not yet anyway. For now, you are going to stay here, and wait for me to come back.” Her face dropped, she had been so excited to spend time with him, she only wanted to help him however she could. But no, she couldn’t let herself be disappointed, he would have a reason for doing this.

“Okay.” Immediately, he disappeared, and Stray stood in place for a few minutes, swinging her arms when she started to get restless. A further few minutes later she decided to sit down, it would help her stay still better; she didn’t want to disobey him.

Eventually Anti returned, and she stood up instinctively. The thought never even crossed her mind that she shouldn’t be able to move her legs. “Master?” He looked pissed. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m pissed. They’ve already noticed that you’re gone. It should’ve taken at least another few minutes. They’re really trying to get you back, they’re scared you’ll hurt them, or someone else. They still think you are dangerous.”

“But master, I am dangerous. You want me to be dangerous, don’t you?” He smirked.

“Now you’re getting it!” Placing a hand on her shoulder, her pajamas changed into tight black dungarees with a black t-shirt underneath. “And now you look fit to be my sidekick.”

“Your- your sidekick?!” Slowly, he nodded, and her face lit up with joy. “Oh master! I promise I won’t let you down!” Watching her with a smug look on his face, he started walking after she calmed down, and she scurried along next to him.

“And as my right-hand girl, I have a very important job for you.” Eagerly, she stared at him.

“Anything master, just say the word.”

“If you insist,” his sinister grin returned, “I want you to pay a visit to Doll.” Never flinching, she nodded, and started to ask when he wanted her to. It seemed that Maya was completely suppressed, but Anti had to be sure that she wasn’t going to appear when faced with her beloved. God, humans disgusted him, with their love and affection, but it did give him good bargaining chips if he ever needed one.

“Good. You should be able to teleport there yourself, if you concentrate hard enough.”

Nodding her head, she scrunched up her eyes and slowly she evaporated from the room in a cloud of deep pink pixels.

As she re-appeared into her bedroom, everything was exactly the same as it had been all those months ago, but this time a stack of birthday cards lay on the desk. Some of them were unopened, and addressed to her, one from Rowan and a few from old friends that had barely kept in touch. Nothing mattered though, they had nothing to do with her task.

Slowly, she ventured out into the hall, looking into each room. She presumed that Kenna would be in the theatre or the kitchen, either way, she hoped that she was alone: having to explain to someone else what had happened would be much more difficult than just an emotional Kenna.

“Maya?!” Kenna’s voice sounded through the hallway, as she stopped dead in her tracks.

“Hi.”

“I missed you so much!” Kenna ran at her, and jumped up giving her a tight hug. When Maya didn’t reciprocate, she let go, only keeping their hands together. She looked Maya up and down, taking in her changed appearance. “Baby, don’t you need your wheelchair?”

“Oh, no, you see I got the doc to heal me. He really helped.” Hearing the name Anti used to call Henrik caused Kenna to realise what was happening.

“Maya, why did you disappear?” Squeezing her hand slightly, Kenna led her through to the living room and sat down with her on the sofa.

“I-it’s not important. There was something I had to tell you, actually that’s the reason I’m here. Umm, there’s no easy way to say this, but… I think we should break up.”

“Wh-what?” Kenna couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Now she knew it wasn’t Maya talking, what with her name for Hen, the dark aesthetic and the lack of wheelchair, she knew that Anti had a hand in it. “Baby, this isn't you. You don’t want to break up with me, I know you don’t.” Stray simply looked blankly ahead. “Maya?” Still, Stray stared ahead, not registering the foreign name. “Stray.” Her head instinctively turned to her master, only to find Kenna. Tears started to run down Kenna’s cheeks, and she threw Maya’s hands down. “You… what have you done to my Maya?” Stray’s eyes darkened slightly, and she smiled.

“Nothing. She’s still here, in fact I would say that I am still her… just better.”

“No, no you’re not better than Maya. You would happily hurt people. You are just like Chaos.” Kenna reached to rest a hand on Stray’s cheek. “God, what has he done to you?”

“Don’t you see? He’s made me twice the person I could ever have been with you.” Brushing

Kenna’s hand away, her hands started to glow deep pink. “I have powers now, I can walk. I can be strong with him. With you I was nothing but weak.”

“No...” Kenna stood up, wiping the tears from her cheeks, and ran out of the room. Foolishly, Stray believed that her task was done, that Kenna would just give up on her like that. Oh, how wrong she was. When Kenna returned, Stray’s eyes were almost completely blacked out to match her outfit, and her head was bowed slightly. Jackie pushed Kenna behind him, unsure of how dangerous this stranger would be.

“Maya? It’s Jackie.” She looked up, her eyes returning to normal. Noting Jackie’s defensive stance, she stood, balling pixels on her hand.

“I am not Maya. I. Am. Stray.” Jackie’s face fell, and he reflexively pulled his mask down, preparing to fight.

“Kenna, go. Get everyone into a room upstairs and lock the door. Don’t leave, no matter what you hear, and keep Marvin with you.”

“Jackie, please, don’t hurt her!”

“I’ll try kid, I promise.” He turned back towards Stray. “Now go before you get hurt!” Kenna ran off up the stairs, grabbing Jamie on the way.

“Well then, Stray is it? I guess it’s just us.” He blasted a ball of magic at her, taking her off-guard and hitting her in the chest. Doubling over, she tried to regain her breath as Jackie stalked towards her. “This doesn’t have to be this difficult Ma- Stray.” Jackie said, pooling more magic into his hands incase she tried to attack him with the pixels she was now flooding into her chest.

Soon, she straightened back out, and reached out towards Jackie. “Jackie?” Fear pooled in her once black eyes.

“Maya, are you back?” Not letting his guard down, Jackie kept an attack readied in case this was a trick, but as he took another step towards her; her face painted with fear.

“Jackie, what’s happening?! Why does everything hurt?” Panic mixed with her fear, and Jackie came closer still.

“It’s okay Maya, we’re going to help you. We’ll get you out of this, I promise.” With a final step, he lowered his attack and pulled Maya into a tight hug. She clung to him, a hidden grin spreading across her face. Unable to conjure her magic without him noticing, she lifted her head slightly, opening her mouth and chomping down on his shoulder. Jackie let out a sharp yell, and magic flowed through her body from his hands on her back.

Not realising what had just happened, Stray pulled away, trying to throw pixels at him, only to be met with the cold wooden floor as she passed out.

She woke up in the same bed she had awoken in only hours ago, but this time there were no wires or IVs, just ropes keeping her from moving. And instead of being alone, the faces of Jackie, Marvin and Jack stared back at her. They had insisted that Chase and Jamie stayed to comfort the girls, and in case Anti decided to make an appearance.

“So, I take it you’re still going by Stray, you little shit.” Jackie was the first to speak, and he earned a harsh glare from Jack. “What, she bit me! Like literally took a chunk out of my shoulder!”

“And I would do it again in a heartbeat if any of you laid your filthy hands on me.” Stray spat in retaliation.

“Yep, definitely still Stray.” Jack laughed awkwardly. “Anyone want to remind me how we got Jackie back from Chaos?”

“That’s not going to work, she’s not under a curse. She’s caught in strings, badly by the looks of things as well.” Marvin answered, as he cast the spell to reveal the strings. She looked almost mummified beneath the layers of red twine. “Well, we can’t rip them out, she’d die of blood loss.”

“Yeah no shit.”

“Yeah, I can still hear you guys you know, just because I can’t move doesn’t mean I can’t hear.” Stray interrupted, receiving only a small smirk from Jackie.

“So what can we do? We can’t just leave her here, Anti will come back for her. We need to get rid of him.”

“Or you could just let me go back to my master. Don’t you want me to be happy?”

“Nope, we want Maya to be fucking happy. Not you.” Marvin growled, green glowing around his hands.

“You know, I have one idea about how to get rid of Stray,” Jack added, his tone much too light. “A full out attack. She has to give up eventually, what does Anti want a broken body for?”

“No. No no no, Kenna will murder us all. And what if we go too far and we can’t fix the damage? We can’t just half murder her in the hope that it drives him away!”

“I’m sorry to say this Marv, but I think it’s our only option right now.” Mouth dropping open, Marvin deflated slightly.

“Well do we tell her? Kenna will not be happy, it’s still her girlfriend in there. We need to talk this through with her.” Rubbing his face, Jack sighed in compliance.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Let’s go, the sooner we get a yes, the sooner we get this over with.”

“You’re what?!” Kenna hugged the stuffed animal Maya had won her tightly, rocking back and forth a little as she tried to comprehend what she had just been told. “I- you- but... ” she exhaled, trying to calm her thoughts. “Will it help her?” The three nodded in unison. “And she’ll definitely be okay?” Once again they nodded, this time with less certainty. “Okay, but please don’t hurt her.” The look on everyone’s faces told her everything. “Don’t hurt her more than you need to.”

They re-entered Stray’s room all looking anxious about the task at hand. Under his breath, Jack mumbled an apology to Maya.

“You’re really going to do this? Attack a poor, innocent kid? You’re sick, all of you.” Stray made one last attempt at escape before Jack threw his green pixels at her, knocking all air for protest out of her lungs.

That started the assault. The three men bombarded her with magic until they were too drained to continue, at which point they allowed Henrik in just to make sure she wasn't going to die.

Whilst they recovered their powers for round two, Kenna snuck into the room, shocked by the unconscious Stray lying in the bed. She looked so strange in the black outfit, and with her skin paler and colder from lack of food. Nothing about her looked healthy. Neither did anything about Kenna when Stray shot towards her, the restraints the only thing holding her back as she growled and snarled at her. It was then that Kenna realised how truly important it was that the guys were successful, and all the anger at them for coming up with the plan dispersed.

She reached to touch Stray, but she only snarled and snapped her teeth at her. “I’m sorry Maya, but we need to do this so I don’t lose you forever.”

#Maya #Stray

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aboysbestfriendishismum · 6 years

Text

Chapter 48 - Mistakes, fetishists and tongue-out faces

In the previous chapter: Eddie's on the phone with Angie and gets turned on by her voice; Angie has a nightmare about Chris Cornell and has a weird reaction when he shows up at the girls' apartment in search for food, he also gives Angie a package that was put in his mailbox by mistake; Angie finds out Eddie climbed up the Space Needle to take the light bulbs and sent one to her with a letter; Angie scolds Eddie on the phone for what he did, but she can't be fully mad at him; Angie's thinking about cutting her long doll-like hair short and changing her style.

“What the fu-” for a moment I think I got inexplicably blocked in when, after I turn off the tap, I stretch my hand with my eyes closed towards the shower door to open it and it doesn't move an inch.

It takes me a few seconds and too many attempts to push it to realize the problem is I gotta open it the other way, the opposite than the one in Seattle. 'Cause I'm not in Seattle, I'm in San Diego, I'm at home. I don't really feel at home though, it's like I'm on holiday, as if this was the umpteenth motel and not the place I planned to spend my future, at least the nearest future, with my ex girlfriend. The ocean, during the first surfing session half an hour ago, is more familiar to me than this place. Maybe it's really because of touring, being in a different place every time makes you lose your reference points. Maybe it's because I'm actually unconnected to this house somehow, after all I'had lived here for two or three months when I left to go to Seattle. And I didn't even have the time to make it more personal anyway, also because I was waiting to do it with Beth, so the decor is kinda neutral and impersonal. The only personal touches are the baseball cards on the fridge, the black and white picture of Pete Townshend flying mid air with his guitar I have in my bedroom and now that I think about it I really should take it back to Seattle with me, a cheap acoustic guitar placed against the couch, the basketball hoop I mounted in the back, the wetsuit hung to dry out on the porch, the dart board on the door. The little bit of personal I had in here is now part in the small bedroom and part in the living room of the apartment I share with Jeff and where I spent more time than I ever did in this house. Or maybe it's just because I've been here for just a couple of hours and I haven't met anyone of my friends yet. It's not the walls that make a house, but the people.

I throw the towels in the laundry basket and as I do I remember I've got a washing machine here and I won't need to go to Wash'n'Go to do the laundry, although the washing won't happen magically by itself and I'll still have to make an effort and put all the stuff into it, add soap and push a button. I walk into my room, put clean underwear and t-shirt on and as I'm thinking if my pants need to go into the washing machine too or I can give them another go, I hear the door bell ringing. I quickly promote my cargo bermuda for another round putting them on and run into the living room as I'm still zipping them up and I look through the shut mirror blinds to see who it is.

“I'm not a hot chick, but I hope you'll let me in all the same!” Craig exclaims looking towards the window.

“Why should I?” I ask him after I open the window.

“Because I have beer” he answers showing me the twelve-pack.

“I like your line of argument” I close the window and open the door to my friend. I don't like to call him best friend, I never use that word, it's not like I'm making charts or something, but he's surely one of my closest friends, and the oldest one, basically since childhood.

“I hate you” he shakes his head standing on the porch.

“I'm happy to see you too”

“You didn't wait for me” he complains pointing at the wetsuit hanging on the banister.

“You know I like to hit the beach early”

“You're an asshole,” he grumbles as he gets in “but I'm happy you're here” he adds giving me his hand and a not so light pat on my back before entering.

“I warn you, I've got no food” I point out when I see him making a bee line to the fridge.

“Jamie will take care of that later, after work, don't worry” he explains placing the beer in the lowest compartment of the fridge.

“Chinese?”

“Of course. And his brother's coming too. Huh and Mitch will surely be here too with her college mate. And then I don't know, someone else”

“You set it all up huh?”

“And your band?”

“They must be chilling at the hotel right now, they'll join us later”

“Great. What about your girlfriend?” he asks directly as he sits down on the couch.

“My girlfriend?” I walk towards the window and roll up the blinds completely, as if I was expecting for her to show up all of a sudden knocking on my door.

“Yeah, where is she?”

“God, I don't know, I haven't met her yet. She surely didn't come to tell me welcome back, honestly I hope I won't met her even by chance”

“Hehe weren't you all for zen now?”

“Yes, but if I don't see her I'll be better” I basically inspect the whole neighborhood from the window, then join Craig on the couch.

“Anyway who cares about Beth, I don't wanna know about the ex girlfriend, I was talking about the new one”

“The new one?” I give him a side look as I immediately figure out where he's getting at.

“Yeah... what's her name... mmm it's on the tip of my tongue””

“Angie”

“HA! See? She's your girlfriend then!”

“Hehe no, she's not”

“You literally just said her name”

“I only realized you meant her, I didn't say that-”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Where is she?”

“In Seattle”

“In Seattle? And when is she coming?”

“I have no idea, I don't even know if she's coming, she might not”

“What do you mean? Didn't you ask her?”

“Sure I asked her”

“How the fuck did you ask her?”

“Hahaha what? What do you mean how? I asked her, I asked her to come to California”

“Ok, but how? How did you tell her? Which words did you use?”

“What does it matter?”

“It matters a lot, what did you tell her, Ed?”

“I told her it would be cool if she came see us play live in this west coast tour”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Why?”

“Is that what you told that girl?”

“Maybe I didn't use the word cool but-”

“You're an idiot”

“Hahaha why?”

“She'll never come here”

“Did I say something wrong”

“Mind you, I wouldn't have come over today either if you asked me like that”

“Ok, just tell me then, what should I have said to her instead?”

“Uhm I don't know, what about I miss you, I want to see you?”

“Tsk sure”

“Why don't you come here to San Diego? You can stay at my place, so we can spend some time together”

“Jesus Christ”

“Eddie?”

“And that said, she'd just run for the hills back to Idaho” Angie's behaviour can be confusing sometimes, I can't understand if she's just trying to buy time or she really doesn't understand I like her, but the truth is I'm more for the second option. If I told her something like that though, there wouldn't be any possibility of misunderstanding and she'd be forced to deal with the matter and deal with my feelings. And she'd take it bad. And she'd end up ditching me and keeping the distance like she did with that Dave guy...

“That's what you think!” Craig retorts.

“Because I know, I know her”

“Fine. Can I see her at least?”

“Sure, you'll meet her if you come to Seattle”

“Did you accidentally try to be funny?”

“What? No” I sincerely reply, I don't know what he means.

“Come on! Show me”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Don't even try to convince me you don't have a picture of this girl because I won't believe you”

“Uhm... no... I don't think I have any...”

“Don't waste my time, come on”

“Wait, let me check, but I don't think so...” I take my notepads from the small table beside the couch and quickly run through the pages.

“Take your time, I'm not in a hurry” he adds placing one of the throw pillows behind his head and making himself more comfortable on the couch and at this point I figure out he won't give up until he sees her. I stand up and walk towards the big table, I stick one hand in the pocket of my corduroy jacket that's hanging on one of the chairs and pull out my wallet. I take three polaroids from the wallet and quickly examine them before picking the one I'm less jealous of.

“You're lucky, I just happened to have one”

“You just happened to have one in your wallet, huh? Let me see” Craig appears behind my back like a true ambush and steals the photograph from my hands before I can complain and goes sitting on the edge of the table.

“I didn't even remember I had it...” I blatantly lie as I put the wallet into the back pocket of my pants.

“Yeah, sure. Anyway... uhm, not bad” he remarks without taking his eyes off the picture and I suddenly realize how fragile the concept of less jealous is.

“You can't really see her features because she's pulling a face and sticking out her tongue” I point at Angie's face on the picture and right now I wish that tongue out face would hide something more.

“No no, I can see them, I can see she's pretty, very pretty” he insists.

“Well, yeah”

“I can see everything” I'm gonna kill this guy.

“Ok give it back to me” I try and grab it, but he moves away.

“I can also see where it was taken”

“I took it when she gave me the polaroid camera as a birthday present” I try once again, in vain.

“IN A BED, THAT'S WHERE YOU TOOK IT!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“She's clearly lying on a fucking bed! Hats off to you, Ed. I'm here giving you advice, but you're way beyond that, my friend!

“It's not a bed, it's the back seat of her car”

“ALL THE BETTER!”

“Shut up, you jerk!”

“Well done, Ed, I underestimated you” he gives me another couple of heavy pats on the back and I finally manage to take my polaroid picture back.

“We were just playing around”

“I can imagine... spare me the details about the games you were playing though, ok?”

“There were no games! I wanted to test the camera, but she didn't want to have her picture taken” I explain putting the photo back in its place.

“Hey you don't owe me any explanation, you're a grown up man now” he makes fun of me trying to pinch me on the cheek, I push him down from the table.

“Nothing happened”

“And when will you make something happen?”

“Come on, let's go get some waves” I answer as I take my shoes from beside the cupboard.

“Didn't you go before?” he gives me a questioning look.

“I'd do anything to make you shut the fuck up”

**************************************************************************************************************************

Love is in the Hair says the writing on the beauty salon's window, circled by a cloud of red and pink small hearts. I'd like to know what Angie thinks about this wordplay. I get in and I'm welcomed by the smile of the girl behind the counter.

“Good morning! Do you have an appointment?” she asks opening a drawer and pulling out a big book with a dark blue cover. Only when she opens it and I notice some numbers I realize it's an appointment calendar.

“No, ehm, I mean, yeah. I'm Meg's friend, Kaminski... Grace”

“Oh yes! She's in the store room in the back, I go call her right now” she winks at me and quickly gets away who knows where.

I hang my jacket and scarf on the rack at the entrance and look around. They opened a few minutes ago and there are already two women at the backwash sinks, a girl who's having her nails done and another who's getting a candy pink substance, which I guess is wax, spread over her lips.

“Hey, you got ahead of time! What happened?” I turn around and see Meg walking up to me, together with the girl I met before, holding some kind of blue robe in her hands.

“Yeah, I know, I know, I'm surprised myself”

“You can give me your bag if you want”

“Yes, thank you” my bag goes from my hands to Meg's first and then the other girl's, who places it in a locker behind her back and then closes it immediately. As I follow these movements with my eye, Meg makes me wear this sort of light kimono and fastens it with the belt.

“So, what do you wanna do? How long do I cut?” Meg goes on as she gestures for me to follow her to the sinks.

“Not too much, I just wanna take some weight off, get a lighter look”

“Uhm what about this long? Maybe with some layers?” she asks taking one lock of my hair between her fingers and indicating a short length.

“Yes, that's perfect. Also an inch more is ok, not too much though”

“Ok, what about the color?” she adds and has me sitting on the backwash armchair.

“Always brown, but darker than this, I want something warmer, a warmer shade” I explain as she places a towel over my shoulders, sticking it under the collar of my shirt.

“No dramatic style change to surprise Stone when he comes back?” she asks as I tilt my head backwards and as I look up I can see her witty smile.

“No, I'd rather not risk not being recognized”

“Hahaha that's a bit of an exaggeration”

“Well, we've been dating for such a short time...” we've basically just started dating and he's already away with the band, I don't think I need to do something like changing my looks so he doesn't get bored easily, he has yet to get to know my looks.

“Stone's crazy for you and knows you by heart, I don't think there's an actual risk, he'd recognize you even if you shaved your hair and tatooed your whole face”

“I'd rather not risk it though” the hot water on my head starts to have a relaxing effect.

“How are things between you?”

“Well, like they usually go between two persons who're not in the same place and aren't seeing each other”

“Ok, but you talked on the phone, right?”

“Yeah, sometimes”

“Sometimes?”

“Well, once every couple of days, more or less”

“I'd say it's more than sometimes. Who calls who?”

“Oh well, he usually calls me, I mean, he's always called, also because they're continuously moving. I feel bad a little, I suggested he could give me the number of each new place they're at or to make a collect call, but he told me to fuck off each time with a different sarcastic joke”

“He's a real gentleman”

“Hehe yeah”

“It's serious then...” she insists with this kind of investigation and the massage my head is getting with soft foam and hot water is extremely relaxing, but not enough to make me spill the beans.

“Mmm maybe, I don't know, it's too early too tell”

“Ok, but he really seems to be into you, doesn't he? And you? What do you feel?”

“Wow, hehe, this... this is a very good question”

“That's supposed to have a very simple answer”

“I like him, I like him a lot and I'm happy with him. But we don't actually know each other well yet, you know, we should spend some more time together to figure out if it can work or not” I use a very nice turn of phrase because ok, Meg studied psychology, but I don't wanna be her patient right now, I'm good with being one of her customers at the beauty salon.

“Oh... OH! I get it now!” she exclaims, interrupting the massage for a moment, then starting back in a slightly more vigorous way “You still haven't... you know...”

“No, I didn't... I didn't mean that! Even though, actually...”

“Well, you'll have time for that, when the guys are back”

“Sure” I answer trying to hide my embarrassment keeping my eyes closed. She accidentally found out one of the reasons of my anxiety. It's always the same story, recurring every time I start hanging out with a new guy and I should have got used to that, but maybe I'll never do. I'll never get used to starting all over again, getting to the point of taking your clothes off and showing your true self and having to give the usual explanations, hoping he won't run away disgusted or worse, pretend everything's alright and turn off the light right away. Once again I'm at the beginning of a relationship and I'm torn between the will to make it grow, to live it up and fully enjoy it, and the wish to never get out of this initial phase, to remain for ever, or at least as long as I can, in this preliminary limbo made of dates, kisses, jokes, looks and phone calls, without thinking about when I'll have the talk with him.

“Maybe if Stone doesn't take the initiative, you should” she says interrupting the stream of my thoughts, as she's starting to rinse off.

“It's not a matter of initiative, and I'm ok with not rushing into anything, I prefer things that way” the longer the fucking wait is, the better.

“And that's because it's serious for you, I was right! Conditioner?”

After having my hair washed, I'm diverted to another chair for the hair cut. The magazine I find in front of the mirror and that I start to go through gives us some very interesting subjects to discuss, most of all subjects that are not Stone Gossard, like the prodigious method to speed up your metabolism in four weeks, America's dream mansions, the plot of the latest episodes of Good Sports accompanied by a backstage photo set of Farrah and Ryan, the latest boot trends. While Meg starts working on my hair with brush and hairdryer, one of her colleagues, a very beautiful 30 something blond woman, walks up to me dragging a cart that makes so much noise.

“Can I do your hands now, while Meg dries your hair?” she asks and without waiting for an answer she takes my left hand and places it on the cart, right on a towel that's rolled up into a sausage shape. She sits beside me and starts checking my nails, then takes some kind of small napkin, pours something that smells like disinfectant on it and uses it to wipe my hand. She then takes my right hand and repeats the whole sequence with the other hand too. It's the first time I do this in my life and seeing how tense I am, I guess everybody figured it out here.

“What do you think? We spiced up your hairstyle a little but nothing too dramatic” Meg catches my attention and only now I realize she turned off the hairdryer and she's now spraying my hair with something that smells very good.

“Oh my god, yes! Thank you, Meg, it's really what I wanted” and strangely enough I'm sincere. I usually leave the hairdresser's with embarrassingly big fluffy hair I can't wait to wash again at home, but not today: I'm really satisfied this time.

“Do you want a pedicure too?” my enthusiasm is killed by the question asked by Meg's colleague.

“NO!”

“Are you sure? I'm gonna sign you up for our discount card” Meg chimes in trying to reassure me, but price is not my problem.

“No, it's not for that, it's just... well, I'm very very ticklish and I don't really like people touching my feet, no I hate it, it's a fixation. I'm weird, I know, hehe” I try and play the paranoid card to drop the subject quickly.

“She's basically the opposite of Mr Footsie” the woman winks at Meg, who pulls a disgusted face.

“Who's Mr Footsie?” I ask curious.

“A dirty pig” Meg replies.

“A customer,” her colleague retorts “a very kind and polite one, who always leaves generous tips”

“A filthy animal who usually has Samantha do him the pedicure” Meg gives more accurate information, also revealing the name of her colleague.

“He never did anything inappropriate”

“Apart from his dick getting hard when you massage his feet” one of the two ladies having her hair done looks suddenly outraged, the other one acts normally as she didn't hear what we're talking about.

“Hahaha that's not sure! And anyway, even if it really happened, that'd be an involuntary reaction, he can't control it”

“And every fucking time, as soon as Sam is done, he asks to use the restroom. Bleargh!”

“Maybe he just needs to go!”

“Yeah, sure. Come on, he goes there to jerk off, that's so evident!”

“Oh shit” I laugh out loud.

“How do you know?”

“I can say it from the happy relaxed face he has when he comes to pay” the girl at the counter answer in Meg's place.

“He must be one of those... dudes... what are they called... foot fetishists” lady number two remarks as one of the hairdressers is blowing dry her bangs.

“But those usually get turned on looking at other people's feet, not when people touch theirs” Samanta points out.

“It's the same thing, it's always about feet” the customer insists.

“Not exactly, the typical foot fetishism is about submission, that guy's just a fucking perv” Meg explains and we all nod apart from lady number one, who pretends not to listen and focuses on a copy of Vanity Fair.

“So, are you satisfied with your haircut?” Meg asks again, trying to drop the subject.

“No colored locks?” her colleague smiles as she works on my fingernails with a file.

“Hahaha no, Grace is a nice girl, she's not some thug like Angie”

“Angie? You dyed her hair?”

“Yeah, she stressed me out and in the end I gave in. I just did highlights though, but she had it cut a lot”

“Blue and purple highlights” Samantha adds.

“You cut her precious mane?!”

“She wanted it shorter than yours, she got crazy. In the end we found a compromise on a less dramatic change, but it's still a big change...”

“Well, it means she needed to change... and maybe she wanted to impress someone” I suggest referring to Eddie.

“Hehe I don't think she needs to impress any more, the guy's already been captured” Meg moves a big round mirror behind me so that I can see the back of my head too.

“But the guy doesn't come out about his feelings” I remark as my hands are put into a bowl of lukewarm water.

“What if I told you the guy somehow revealed his feelings?”

“That somehow is not ok with Angie, it leaves room for doubts”

“Somehow only because Angie's stupid, any other person would have understood he was confessing his feelings. I don't wanna gossip, but we're talking about a present and a letter, the message was clear”

“Was the message I love you, I wanna be with you?”

“Hehe no, not so explicit”

“I understand Angie then. Eddie's trying, but he's ambiguous. He should talk straight, speak his mind. I can understand being cautious, test the waters at the beginning, but at some point you gotta put your cards on the table, especially when you see the other person doesn't get your messages between the lines”

“Ok, but if none of the two wakes up we can go on for years. If he doesn't, then she has to do something” Meg walks away towards a hot pink curtain in a corner, simply slips a hand through it and pulls out a broom, then comes back up to me.

“Sure, I agree with you. What I'm saying is that this deadlock is probably convenient to him too, maybe he's taking time, maybe he's not so sure or has doubts”

“The only doubt I can concede him is because of the age gap. And because Jeff could beat him up if he fucks up with Angie. Apart from that, I can't see why he should have doubts” she explains as she collects my cut hair from the floor.

“Well, whatever his doubts might be, he must make up his mind and act on it. If he's not sure being with Angie's a good idea, well, he should leave her alone, but if he decides to go for it, he should do it once and for all!”

“I agree!” exclaims Samantha, as she arranges a series of files and sticks on the cart.

“Well, this could be the perfect occasion” Meg suggests as she scoops the hair in a dustpan.

“Do you think she's already landed by now?”

“Nah, it's too early”

*************************************************************************************************************************************

“I'll starve for a few months, but it was worth it” I tell myself as soon as I leave the airport and I find myself alone with my backpack in a sunny boulevard lined with palm trees. Is there a more Californian image than this one? Had I taken the bus, I'd have spent one third of the money, but it'd have taken me like twenty hours to get to San Diego. Instead, after a peaceful, comfortable, less than three hour long flight, I'm already here. There's an endless line of taxi cabs outside the terminal, but first I need to figure out if I need one or not. I sneak into a phone booth and call the operator to ask for the address of Winter's, the place the guys are playing at tonight, that luckily for me Eddie mentioned. After that, I look up El Cajon Boulevard on the map of San Diego I've just bought at a kiosk. It's not exactly close. It's not close at all, it must be more than ten miles from here. I do need a cab.

I admit it's not the best plan: hanging around the club until someone I know shows up. Anyway, it was the only plan I could arrange without asking too much information to anybody, so that the Mookie guys won't suspect anything. Considering it's one o'clock in the afternood I hope there's at least a coffee shop near the club where I can crawl into waiting for someone to show up for soundcheck. The sea, well the ocean actually, is only visible for a short stretch of road, in the proximity of a port, then we turn towards the inland. The taxi driver is a middle-aged man with red cheeks and a funny smile. I hope he's not drunk. He asks me some questions just to do some conversation, but he's not intrusive. He compliments me for my hair. I feel it strange, I feel strange, lighter, more uncovered, which is not bad considering I'm starting to sweat with my leather jacket on. Thank god I followed Meg's advice and didn't bring my coat. I take off my jacket, I remain with the rainbow striped sweater and I immediately feel better, although in this cab with no air conditioning I'd feel good with a short sleeved shirt too. I roll down the car window a little and even though I'm looking outside, I'm not really focused on the landscape changing before my eyes. My thoughts are all on what will the guys' reaction be as soon as they see me and all the different variations of the same scene, going from the hooting and hollering for surprise and joy to the complete indifference, from them making fun of me for my little change of style to their eyes telling me something like What the hell did you came here alone for? And Eddie? What do I expect from him? I'm here speculating about what he'll do and say to me, and maybe he won't even have time to give me attention because he'll be here with his friends. I don't know what to expect and this makes me anxious, why did I have to get out of my comfort zone right now? What do I want to prove? That I'm capable of climbing up my personal Space Needle and overcome my insecurities? By now I've only proven I can take a plane. And a cab.

I get to the address, pay the driver and take a look around. The club is so small it takes me some time to spot its sign among all the others. This boulevard is anything but isolated, it's full of life and business, other clubs, bars, restaurant and diners, supermarkets, various shops, even a mattresses shop, just from here I can see at least three auto repair shops and two funeral parlors. I instinctively try to pull my sweater up to cover my shoulder, which obviously remains uncovered all the same, I cross the road to reach the club and as I get closer I recognize the small billboard hanging outside the entrance of the location that represents the Facelift album cover. When I'm close enough though, I see something's wrong, although I don't immediately realize what it is, I mean I sense something's out of place, but I only notice it after a few long seconds. The writing says: FEB 13 ALICE IN CHAINS. February 13th? But today it's the 12th, 13th is tomorrow. They're playing tonight, I'm sure about it, Eddie told me: 'The 12th we're still in San Diego', that's what he said... No, wait a minute, actually he said 'Wednesday the 12th' … but he got confused because today it's Tuesday, well, I gave for granted that he had confused the day of the week. But what if the mistake was the date number?

Shit.

What if it's a mistake by the club? Mmm not likely. The problem is, if they're playing tomorrow what the fuck do I do? First of all, I have to change the date of the return flight, if I can, then what? What do I do? Where do I camp? How do I let them know I'm here? Because I gotta let them know. But why didn't I just stay in Seattle? Why does Eddie have no sense of time? As I'm growing more and more paranoid I look down, right under the billboard picture, and the whole situation gets surreal: WITH PEARL JAM.

Who the fuck is Pearl Jam?

#pearl jam fanficion #grunge fanfiction #pearl jam #eddie vedder #chapters

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harrysmeadow · 7 years

Text

HELD - CHAPTER 10

// CATCH UP HERE // PLAYLIST // HARRYS INSTA // ERINS INSTA //

A/N - Oh my God, I updated!??! Less than a month after I posted the previous chapter!? It’s a miracle!

Thank you so much to everyone who sent me a lovely message about the last chapter, it was the most feedback I’ve ever had, and it really motivated me to write this chapter! I really hope you like it, and again I’d love to know what you think! My ask is open!

As always a special thank you to my gorgeous besties @islareeveswriting and @cuddlemusclestyles for all their help with this chapter, and general life advice. I love you both very, very much.

“Erin? What do you think of this one?” Harry called over to me.

It was a dreary Saturday afternoon, rain clouds had been hanging low, grey and threatening in the sky for hours, meaning Harry and I had continuously put off our shopping trip until we really couldn’t wait any longer. Even though we were supposed to be shopping for a present for Izzy’s birthday, we’d somehow ended up in the men’s section in Fenwick’s department store, and we had yet to buy anything for the upcoming birthday girl.

He was stood in front of a long mirror, twisting and turning each and every way trying to figure out whether the floral shirt he held in his hands would suit him or not. I stopped just behind him, looking at him in the mirror and smiling when his lips jutted into a pout, showing his conflicting thoughts.

“I like it.” I said confidently. “It suits you.” But then again, the boy could wear a potato sack and still look like he could grace the pages of Vogue.

“Are you sure? If I wear it tonight we won’t clash?” He asked seriously, spinning round to face me.

A laugh escaped my lips as I shook my head trying to reassure him. “I’m absolutely sure, Harry.”

Tonight would be the first night since arriving back for second term that my housemates and I, would be going ‘out, out’, and it was all thanks to Niall Horan. The boy was nothing if not persistent; for the past week or so my day would not have been complete without him asking or texting me about the night out that I had apparently promised to organise.

Even though I’d tried to put it off at first, after awhile I realised I could probably do with a night out with my friends. The first few weeks back had really got on top of me, and I was ready to not think about coursework and projects for at least one night.

After paying for the shirt, we left the shop hand in hand, making our way through the centre of town discussing idea’s of what we could buy Izzy. I knew I would be buying her another charm for her bracelet, but there needed to be something else.

“Oh! I know!” Harry suddenly exclaimed. “Sam text me the other day saying Josie and Chris were buying her a turntable, we should get her some old records so she has something to play on it!”

“That’s a great idea!” I gushed, but honestly with the way he was smiling, so clearly proud of himself with the idea, he could have suggested buying her socks and I would have agreed.

After a quick Google, Harry and I made our way to a small independent record shop just outside of the town centre. The shop front looked old and weathered, the pale blue paint that covered the window panes and door frame was faded and peeling away, and the rusty sign that was swinging above the door that said ‘Butler Records’, squeaked as it moved back and forth in the wind.

Stepping into the shop, the bell above the door chimed and it felt as though I’d been transported back in time. Posters of artists from all genres and eras covered the walls from floor to ceiling, and the faint scratching of a record finishing, sounded as if it was playing in another room not too far away.

Harry stepped out from behind me, making his way over to the large selection of records in the middle of shop. The table ran the entire length of the place, and was divided into sections; first by genre, then alphabetically.

“Do you think they have the Spice Girls!?” I beamed, as I trailed behind him and began to scan over the rows of records, hoping something worthy of a gift would jump out.

“Oh my God.” Harry mumbled, and I could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“What!? You know Izzy loves them!” I exclaimed, struggling to understand why he didn’t share my enthusiasm for the classic girl power group.

“I know she does!” He agreed, stopping in front of a row and trailing his fingers down the edge, scanning over the labels until he found what he wanted. “I just can’t believe we find a place like this, that’s literally packed with every kind of music you could think of, and you ask for the Spice Girls.”

“They are a treasured British music act Harry, and you can’t deny it.”

****

Whenever I ended up at the end of a queue outside a club, I always regretted my life choices that led to that moment. I hated the cold. Why is it not acceptable to go clubbing in a jacket? Rosie, Nicola, Jamie, Adam and I, stood huddled together like penguins as we waited in line to gain entrance to Vision. Harry and Niall had already arrived, and I’d sent our groups drink order in a text to Niall with the hope that we could skip the line at the bar when we finally got in.

I jumped from foot to foot, rubbing my hands up and down my arms trying to keep warm in the freezing night air. The temperature hadn’t risen above single figures in weeks, but that obviously hadn’t stopped the group of freshers that were stood in front of us in the line, from getting dolled up in their short skirts and dresses.

I had entered and left that phase very quickly after getting to uni. I now prefered to take a ‘warm up nap’ before going out, instead of spending ages getting ready. I felt like I was wasting my time applying hordes of makeup that I wouldn’t want to take off properly at 3am when I came in, and I’d take comfort over style any day when it came to choosing an outfit.

I winced as I watched one of the girls in front of me twist her ankle in her stilettos while attempting to move over the cobbles.

“Remember when we made that mistake?” Rosie giggled in my ear, nodding her head in the direction of the poor girls whose wobbly legs made them look like Bambi on ice.

I looked down at my own feet, surrounded by a comfy layer of rubber and canvas, and thanked the heavens that we’d found fairly quickly in first year that Vision didn’t have a strict dress code, and that they’d let you in wearing tatty old converse. My gorgeous black heels that my parents had bought me for my eighteenth birthday, hadn’t been out of my wardrobe in months.

The line was slowly but surely moving along, the music from inside becoming louder as we got closer to the door.

“That is sickeningly cute.” Nicola huffed over my shoulder.

“What is?” I asked, confused.

“That.” She said, pointing to my phone in my hand where a message from Harry lit up the screen.

I’m still worried we’re gonna clash with me wearing this shirt you know. x

“Where did you find him, and how do I get one?” She joked.

I looked down at my outfit, a simple black slip dress with lace detailing around the edge, over a plain white t-shirt, (the first years might be able to stand the cold, but I certainly needed layers) before sending a reassuring text to Harry, that he had no need to worry about his shirt.

“She’s completely gone for him.” I heard Rosie mutter to Nic, as I dropped my phone into my bag.

The thing was, I couldn’t deny it. I was gone for him, or I was well on my way. Growing up with Izzy, Sam and Evie, I always found it easier to slink back and blend in, rather than fight for attention. But the way he looked at me made me feel so special, and wanted, like I was the only other person on earth. Sure he hadn’t kissed me, but I knew his reasons, and I knew that when the time came, everything before that moment would feel like nothing.

****

Weaving my way through the crowd, it didn’t take me long to spot Harry and Niall stood at the end of the bar; and as we neared them I was very glad to see they were surrounded by an amount of drinks that surely couldn’t have just been for the both of them.

“Hi!” I beamed brightly to the both of them when I approached them.

“Hi, Sweets.” Harry replied with a smile. “This is yours.” He said, grabbing one of the many glasses off of the bar and handing it to me. “Now, which is everyone else's?”

Harry had met all of my flatmates in the past few weeks, so I introduced Niall to my friends as everyone gathered round. Introductions were made, drinks were passed round, and the conversations started flowing immediately.

I stuck close to Harry's side, and wasted no time snaking an arm around his back, tucking myself securely into his side. It was my safe space, encased in his warmth, and his familiar scent surrounding my senses made me feel at home. I felt a soft kiss being placed to the top of my head, and even though the music was pounding, and conversation was flowing around us, it was like my senses tuned themselves to sync with him, as I had no trouble understanding the whisper he spoke to my ear. “You’re so pretty.” He uttered, and the butterflies that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in my stomach, suddenly burst to life as if they’d been set free from a cage at the sound of his voice.

“Thank you.” I replied, leaning up on my toes to present him with a peck on the cheek.

“Love the shirt Harry!” Rosie gushed, sneakily sending me a wink as she leant across us to grab her drink from the bar, and I didn’t miss the satisfied smile that took over his features.

“Thanks!” He replied, looking chuffed as he smoothed down the fabric over his front.

“You do look great. I told you not to worry.”

“I know.” He drawled, running his fingertips down my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps and lacing his fingers through mine when he reached my hand. “But I knew you’d look gorgeous, and I would never want to show you up.”

I groaned deeply, rolling my eyes at his comment. He was unfairly charming. I tugged my hand from his grasp, playfully poking him in the chest. “First of all, you have got to stop doing that -”

“What!?” He shrieked incredulously.

“Being stupidly nice, and complimenting me all the time. You know I like you, you don’t have to try so hard.” I teased, trying to hold back a giggle, as he tried to figure out whether he should be offended or not. “And second of all, you show me up everytime I’m with you. I’m constantly a mess, and you look like...that!” I gestured wildly at him, trying to somehow convey that I thought he looked like a Greek God, without inflating his ego too much.

“You do realise the more you put yourself down, the more I’m gonna keep going on about how amazing you are.” He smirked, and I grumbled childishly, attempting to disguise how flattered I really was.

I didn’t have chance to retaliate though, as Niall very charmingly pretended to be sick over our exchange.

“You two are disgusting.” He chided. “Now, if you can manage to pry yourselves away from each other for two minutes, I’d like to get this night started right. With shots.”

****

Surprisingly the night went on without a hitch. I didn't drink enough to get absolutely mortal, but I was definitely past tipsy. Niall had been quite the entertainer, drinking enough for the entire group of us really. His traditional Irish dancing had gone down a storm, I don’t think I’d laughed so much in ages. I noticed Nicola taking a particular interest in his Irish charm, as she laughed wildly at his jokes all night.

We decided to call it a night when Niall started crying when he remembered he didn't have any turkey dinosaurs in the freezer at home, and Rosie (who was about as far gone as Niall) started crying with him.

The bitter chill in the air hadn’t lifted when we left the club in the early hours of the morning, but the warm buzz flowing through my veins was enough to distract me from the temperature. A dull throb was pulsating in my ears as my body readjusted to normal levels of sound.

“Erin! Do you know? You’re Harry’s hero.” Niall slurred, gesturing between us with a drink in hand that was spilling onto the floor, how he’d managed to get out of the building with it I had no idea.

“What?” I laughed.

“Harry told me about you ages ago.”

“Oh really?” I asked, nudging Harry’s side playfully.

“Yeah.” He muttered, grabbing at my hand that was poking him in the side.

“What did you say!” I asked excitedly.

“I told Ni-”

“-He told me that you’re the reason he plays rugby.” Niall spoke matter-of-factly, and interrupting Harry’s own explanation. My eyes went wide at his confession, shooting to Harry in confusion; yet he didn’t stop Niall from continuing. “He said if you hadn’t helped him with his technique or something one time when you were 9-

“13” Harry said with a roll of his eyes.

“-Whatever, said that he would have never got on the team at school, and that he wouldn’t be where he was now if ‘it wasn’t for Erin’.” He said bringing his hands up to form air quotes.

“Is that true?” I asked, suddenly feeling very sober, my voice barely above a whisper, but like always we had no trouble understanding each other, and he nodded in confirmation.

I didn’t know if it was the alcohol that had heightened my emotions, or whether I would have reacted the same without the substance, but I felt tears pooling in my eyes.

Although the memory wasn’t clear in my mind, I could recall a time a good few years ago in which Izzy, Sam, Harry and I were playing rugby in the paddock at the front of the farmhouse. It must have been one of the last times I’d seen Harry before we met again only about 2 months ago.

He’d kept hold of this memory under lock and key for years, remembering me as someone who helped him achieve something he’d always wanted to do. Everything seemed to snap into place in my mind; why he was so hesitant to move us along any further, even why we’d argued so much when we first met. He’d had me placed on a pedestal in his mind for so long, he didn’t want to lose me completely; or worse, find out I wasn’t the person he’d thought me to be. When I’d shown up at Christmas being the grand high bitch herself, trying to protect Izzy, it must have taken a lot for him to face me being so horrid when all he’d remembered was me being nice.

He needed this time to make sure that he’d been right about me all along, when I’d given him reason to think otherwise.

“Can I come back to yours with you?” The words slipped past my lips before I’d realised what I’d said.

“You want to stay over?” He asked bewildered.

Even though we spent so much time time together, and a lot of that time was spent with us curled up to each other sleeping, we’d never spent a night together, each of us always going back to our own homes before we could settle down to sleep properly. I’d never had a problem with it, always respecting how Harry wanted to do things, plus we hadn’t kissed yet, so staying over had felt like we were doing things the wrong way round. But for some reason, this tiny piece of knowledge, this small little nugget of a memory seemed to push me further to him.

“I don’t have to! I just..It doesn’t matter, I’ll go back with Rosie and Nic.” I sputtered, pulling away from him towards where the others were waiting for a taxi, before he grabbed my wrist and turned me back to him. “Erin, you can stay.”

“Are you sure? I want to do this at your pace, and if you don’t want me to stay I’m fine with it. It’s always your choice, Harry.”

“I want you to stay. Plus, I could use the help taking care of Niall to be honest.” He grinned.

****

Soft passes of air tickled my cheek as I woke up the next morning; that and the gentle rise and fall beneath me told me without me having to open my eyes that Harry had pulled me close while I was asleep. Not that I minded at all, I loved being close to him.

I knew he was awake, I could feel his fingertips dancing across my back in different shapes and patterns, each touch on my skin leaving sparks that filtered through my bloodstream straight to my heart. I sighed in content, snuggling further into him and basking in his warmth. Harry was always warm, which made me never want to stop cuddling him. He was surrounded by an aura of calm, that was entirely comforting and soothing, like all my problems disappeared into nothing when I was around him. I was pretty sure that with the amount of alcohol I’d drunk last night, I should have at least had a headache, but I felt nothing other than his hands on my skin.

“I know we take naps together all the time, but waking up with you like this feels different.” He whispered sweetly into my hair, obviously realising I was awake.

“Good different?” I asked, groggily, the full weight of sleep not completely lifted from me as I struggled to open my eyes all the way. “Very good different.” He assured me, placing a kiss to the top of my head that rested against his chest.

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks immediately at his words. Even though he was never shy with compliments, I found it hard not to get flustered. I think it was because I could almost feel the sincerity in his words. Harry only ever spoke with purpose, so when he told me I looked pretty, or that I was smart, or funny, his words held so much more meaning it took me a while to process.

As my fingers traced over the lines of black ink that were the beautiful tattoo’s on his arm, I thought back to last night, and how I was always able to see them out of the corner of my eye. When he’d held my hand and twirled me round as we danced, I threw my head back smiling with pure glee and adoration, I locked my eyes on the drawings on his skin so I didn’t lose my balance. When Rosie, Nic and I were having a gossip by the bar, and the boys were stood not too far away, probably laughing at one of Niall’s stories, I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander to him. They trailed over his broad back that I clung to like a koala when we napped together, down his muscular arms that always held me so gently, and back up to his face, where as usual his gorgeous green eyes were ready to lock with mine.

“How come you never mentioned that story that Niall told last night?” I mumbled, suddenly remembering Niall’s drunken tale.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to bring that up.” He chuckled, and I shrugged. “I just thought you wouldn’t remember, and that I’d seem really weird because I had remembered.”

“I do remember! I think. But it’s not weird Harry, it’s sweet.” I cooed, bringing my fingers up to his forehead to brush away a curl that was about to fall in front of his eyes.

In that moment, I was convinced he was an angel. His gorgeous grin was glowing brighter than the morning sun that was peeking through the curtains, his green eyes were bright like jewels under a light in a museum, so fragile and precious, and his soft curls lay messily, but so elegantly framing his face. Yet of all the people in my life, I could think of no one more deserving of such beautiful features than Harry. His kind heart was reflected in the way his eyes could portray such emotion, and if it was true what they say about eyes being the window to the soul, I had no doubt that Harry’s was pure and beautiful; to me he was otherworldly, and I didn’t know what I’d done in my life to attract and deserve such beauty.

“Ok.” He smiled. “When do you think it was?”

I hummed to myself, tapping my finger against my chin while shuffling onto my tummy next to him, and propping up on my elbows to see him fully.

“I think, it was that day in summer, just before you and Izzy went back to school and I went back home. We were in the front paddock, because the grass was shorter and easier to run in than the back field, Sam always tripped on the longer grass when we played footie. Auntie Josie used to go mad about the stains on his jeans.” I laughed.

“Anything else?” He asked.

“I remember we were playing tag rugby, but that’s it really.” I admitted, feeling slightly ashamed that I couldn’t remember any more detail, but if the grin on his face was anything to go by, I’d say I’d guessed correctly.

I wondered how many other memories he had of me stashed away in his mind; sweet moments from the odd days we’d spent together as children at the farmhouse, passing glances out of car windows as my family and I left Holmes Chapel after a week long visit, or even just Izzy mentioning my name from time to time at school. I felt almost guilty that all I’d remembered of him back in December was his curly hair.

“You’re right, we were at the farmhouse at the end of the summer holidays.” He began, reaching out to twirl a lock of my hair through his fingers lazily, and I sighed happily at his delicate touch. “Iz and I were just about to go into Year Nine at school, so I was 13 and I knew when we went back I wanted to try out for the school’s rugby team. Sam and I had been playing all day, trying to practice and get better so I’d be more likely to get picked.”

I hummed in response, flopping myself back down next him again, and my brows furrowed as the memory became more vivid in my mind. Turning on my side to face him fully, really he didn’t look all that different to how he did all those years ago. With the soft grey duvet covering his broad chest and long legs, and the sprinklings of black ink that appeared every so often on his skin, the sleepy, pouty face that was so close to mine looked so young and innocent, it felt bad to want to kiss his rosy lips.

“But then you and Izzy came along.” He chuckled. “Insisting you wanted to join in too, and that girls are just as good at rugby as boys.”

“They are!”

“I know! You proved it that day anyway. You tackled me so many times I don’t know whether I was scared or in awe of you!” He laughed, and I could feel my cheeks heating as he recalled a younger, more confident Erin.

“You didn’t brag though, you were just playing the game, but afterwards you came over and told me that I was too slow offloading, and that’s why I always got tackled. You lined up Izzy and Sam on either side of me and helped me improve. I remember you stood off to the side watching us like a hawk screaming ‘NOW!’ whenever you wanted me to make the pass. I made the team that year, the year after that I was made Captain, and now, here I am.”

A moments silence passed between us as the weight of his words fell, heavy like fog that dropped on a winter’s night it had been building gradually until I could no longer make out anything around me. It wasn’t as though it was a grand revelation, it was a sweet and simple memory, but one that I hadn’t known I’d been a part of, and that held to much meaning to him. I was completely overwhelmed.

“Harry.” I whispered. Reaching out I traced my fingertips gently across his cheek, like I was making sure he was actually real. The warmth under his skin coloured his cheeks the most beautiful shade of pink, and I couldn’t help myself from letting my eyes drop to his lips that were that gorgeous colour too.

I wasn’t surprised when he began to lean forward, but I could see the nerves in his eyes, and the tension in his shoulders. In an attempt to ease his worry I let my own eyes flutter shut, and met him halfway.

His lips were soft and sweet as they brushed against mine in a gentle kiss, and my fingers laced themselves in the curls at the back of his neck as I attempted to anchor myself to him when I felt like I was floating.

Although the kiss was short, it was the sight of him when I opened my eyes that left me breathless; because he was just that. Breathtaking. Harry was beautiful, in every way possible, I’d been sure of that for a long time now, but the smile that graced his features in that moment was quite possibly the most stunning sight I’d ever seen.

#1dff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #held #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles concepts #uni!harry #harry styles uni au #harry styles au

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thesinglesjukebox · 7 years

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TAYLOR SWIFT - LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO [4.39] Man, look what she made US do.

Elisabeth Sanders: Here is the thing about Taylor Swift: anybody that has truly loved (despite themselves) Taylor Swift has done so because of her sharp, frightening edges, because of the way in which she is the mean girl in the midst of a panic attack, because she's petty, because she's crazy, because she believes in things and at the same time when those things aren't as they seem wants to crush them in the palm of her hand. Any interpretation of Taylor Swift that doesn't incorporate this is simply bad research. In 2006: "Go and tell your friends that I'm obsessive and crazy--There's no time for tears / I'm just sitting here, planning my revenge." In 2010: "And my mother accused me of losing my mind /But I swore I was fine /You paint me a blue sky /And go back and turn it to rain /And I lived in your chess game /But you changed the rules every day /Wondering which version of you I might get on the phone, tonight /Well I stopped picking up and this song is to let you know why" In 2012: "Maybe we got lost in translation / maybe I asked for too much / or maybe this thing was a masterpiece / til you tore it all up." And finally, in 2014, a culmination of the songwriting combined with the publicity--well, just listen to "Blank Space." I can't quote the whole thing. At the time it was brilliant, a parody that dipped just enough into the real, a joke about both media extrapolation and actual content. But we're past the time for parody. It came, it was good, it went. The criticism still followed, for other reasons, for deeper reasons, for real reasons. Along with, I'm sure, superficial ones. But if "Blank Space" was Taylor Swift's petty Gone Girl fan fiction, "Look What You Made Me Do" is the unfortunate chapter in which we have to acknowledge that the fiction was never that self-aware, and that an excavation of complication, when confronted with complicated times, sometimes reveals not a complex sympathetic maybe-villain, but simply a person not equipped to be making mass art right now. Taylor's pettiness, her villainy, her strangeness, has always been her most interesting feature. Maybe, now, too many years into seeing but not seeing it, it's just--not that interesting anymore. She's not your friend, and she's not your enemy, she's just--well. As she says, "I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me." I think that might be her final truth. [3]

Stephen Eisermann: I've never been a big Taylor Swift fan -- I like her music well enough, but there was always something about the details she painted and the cards she showed that it felt a bit... made-up. Still, I always had a weird feeling that Taylor and I had very similar personalities and personal life trajectories (bear with me) and this song reinforces that. When I was younger and "straight" (16-18), I was very quiet, nice to a fault, and introverted. Thanks to my name and skin color, a lot of (racist) older people always said it was hard to believe I was a Mexican teenager because I was so quiet, polite, well-spoken and bright. Much like Swizzle during the "Taylor Swift" and "Fearless" era, I was considered naive but genuine-hearted and people loved to love my niceness. However, I soon started coming to terms with my sexuality and started being a bit more open with myself and others about who I truly was, just like we saw glimpses of pure pop and more evocative lyrics in "Speak Now" and "Red." I still built stories and a narrative that painted me as more mystery than gay, just as Taylor toed the line between squeaky clean young adult and Lolita, but I was a bit more willing to explore. Soon after, the inevitable happened and I finally had my first NSFW encounter with a man, and was even MORE willing to be who I really was. I let my gay flag fly and if people asked, I wouldn't dance around the question, but own who I was. Taylor didn't hesitate one bit when she announced 1989 would be a pop album in its entirety, and I didn't so much was stutter when telling questioning friends my realization. Still, a part of me hid things from ass-backwards family members and people who I knew wouldn't "understand," just as Sweezy continued to play the victim card to hold on to some of the innocence that was slowly falling through her fingertips like sand on the last day of vacation. However, there is only so much sand one hand can hold and BAM -- my family became aware of my sexuality and Taylor was exposed. I was at a crossroads -- do I drop my family and throw out ALL the dirty chisme I had accumulated over the years at different holidays, effectively exposing the most bigoted family members, or do I keep my mouth shut and weather the hate, being all the stronger for it? I wanted so badly to be vindictive and evil, but I choose the high road for reasons I'm not really sure I can effectively communicate. Taylor, however, has opted for the darker route. "LWYMMD" lacks detail, yes, but it's intentional. I just... I just know it. She has secrets up her sleeves she will soon reveal -- nobody willingly takes the villainous role without ammo, and Taylor has been MANY things throughout her career, but unprepared is not one of them. This song is calculated, petty, unnecessary, and very much beneath her, but it allows me to live vicariously through her and I want her to drag her detractors just as I want to drag my family members through the mud they continue to think I belong in. And just as my bigoted family members will get theirs, so will Taylor's enemies, I'm sure. [10]

Will Rivitz: "I think I have a part to play in this drama, and I have chosen to be the villain. Every good story needs a bad guy, don't you think?" -Lorelei Granger, Frindle (Andrew Clements, 1996) [9]

David Moore: Phonogram: The Immaterial Girl Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie (Image Comics, 2015) Synopsis: Years ago, a young woman obsessed with music videos and mythic pop celebrity made a deal with the King Behind the Screen -- she gave up half of herself to gain the mystical power needed to eventually lead a coven of music obsessives. Now the deal's gone sour, and her darker, sacrificed self has switched places to destroy the coven with an ill-advised electroclash revival. [7]

Alfred Soto: Electronic swoops, piano on the bridge, lots of boom boom bap -- this single could be the new St. Vincent, or, to return to once upon a long time ago, to a track from Lorde's estimable Melodrama, a flop also largely co-written with Jack Antonoff. A skeptic of her first singles since 2009, I approached "Look..." with caution; on the evidence she's anticipated this caution. "I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me," she sings while soap opera strings add the requisite melodrama, and for a moment I thought she sang "I don't trust my body." I've never cared about biographical parallels in any art, especially in popular art where the insistence feels like conscription; the blank space where she wants the audience to write his/her/whatever's name is a sop to us. Less persuasive is the talk-sung part informing her audience that the "old Taylor" is "dead," as if Fearless fans needed an 808 dug into their faces. It will sound terrific on the radio. I'll skip it when I buy the album. [5]

Crystal Leww: The emerging narrative of Jack Antonoff as the next king of pop production is perplexing because his resume is honestly pretty thin. It's unclear what Antonoff actually brings to the table other than an amplification factor; Antonoff's songs have only been as good as his collaborators. This works when artists are working with a strong vision they can execute against -- e.g., CRJ's "in love and feeling like a teen again" on "Sweetie," Lorde's earnest wide open heartbreak on Melodrama. It is damning if artists are falling into their worst habits. Taylor Swift is a very solid songwriter -- it's nearly impossible to have the kind of career she had in country music if you're not -- but it always falls back on specificity, the emotional connection that she can forge with her fans when she knows what she's trying to convey. "Look What You Made Me Do" fails because it's unclear what it's about -- is this song about haters? Kim and Kanye? Her exes? The media? -- and Antonoff using Right Said Fred makes it all seem very clunky. The song sounds like it could have really leaned into a psycho ex-girlfriend vibe, but it's not self-aware, not funny, not sure of itself. Ultimately, "Look What You Made Me Do" isn't awful, but it's not catchy, which is its worst sin of all. Taylor Swift's still a decent songwriter ("Better Man" was great; "I've been looking sad in all the nicest places" almost made up for that Zayn collab), but this isn't even yucky -- it's just kinda boring. [4]

Katherine St Asaph: The curse continues. Maybe it's that the past month I've been listening to very little but "Anatomy of a Plastic Girl" by The Opiates and "Justice" by Fotonovela and Sarah Blackwood, and here's the exact conceptual midpoint. I've heard comparisons to electroclash, NIN, mall emo, Lorde, but I hear more Jessie Malakouti or Britney on Original Doll: frantic tabloid petulance, slightly updated with a "Problem" anti-chorus, but otherwise things I like. Otherwise, Swift's style has not changed: self-referential ("actress" and "bad dreams" shuffle her images to make her the heel) and threaded with subliminals ("tilted stage" is literal, "kingdom keys" keeps up with the konsonance) Just as "Dear John" parodied its subject's lite-blooz guitar, "Look What You Made Me Do" parodies the austere tracks of 808s and Heartbreak on, like "Love Lockdown" in curdled Midwestern vowels: trading soporific for loaded. The song has inevitably become about everything but itself. Her milkshake duck brought all the boys to the yard, and they're like, this is garb, and I'm like, the Internet deplorables haven't adopted this in any better faith than they did Depeche Mode; any of pop's myriad songs about the tabloids would read as "political" if transplanted into 2017 (is Lindsay Lohan's "Rumours" about FAKE NEWS?), and Swift's suffocatingly prescriptive "Southern" "values" pre-Red were as politically suspect as this, and more insidious. The next salvo of attack: its rollout being unprecedentedly gimmicky and exploitative, never mind how aforementioned Depeche Mode did the same pre-order thing, or Britney Spears upholstered-carpetbombed "Pretty Girls" in everyone's Ubers, or Rihanna's Talk That Talk was launched with gamified "missions", or Srsly Legit Band Arcade Fire spent months on fake Stereogum posts and fake Ben and Jerry's. Doesn't help that when Taylor is bad, she's stunningly, loudly bad; the second verse, in its magnification of the cringiest parts of "Shake It Off" and "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together," seems to last forever. (The phone call is fine, though; no one had a problem with "How Ya Doin'" or, like, "Telephone.") It's no good for catharsis, definitely not relatable, maybe on purpose: like being too sexy for your shirt, all you feel is cold. [6]

Katie Gill: On the one hand, Taylor using the language of abusers in the chorus of her song is clueless at best and worrisome at worst. On the other hand, blatantly riffing off of "I'm Too Sexy" is a surprisingly smart choice for a chorus and I'm shocked that I can't think of anyone who's tried it before with this level of success. But on the one hand, for a song about how she's getting smarter and harder, the lyrics don't reflect that, giving us some petty Regina George level nonsense instead of anything remotely resembling depth or nuance. But then again, that snake is pouring Taylor Swift some tea and all the Taylor Swifts are beating up the other Taylor Swifts in a battle royale hahaha this video is so amazingly dumb. I guess I'll split the difference and give it a [5]

Alex Clifton: I've always wanted give-no-fucks Taylor Swift, but I'm dying for context, as this album (and sing) will sink or swim based entirely on the narrative she creates. She's clearly setting herself on fire in order to rebrand herself, although I question her self-awareness. The music video indicates yes, with a brilliant 30-second scene featuring various Taylors mocking each other. Yet "Look What You Made Me Do" is also curiously passive, with a reactionary title and a bored chorus--more a sign of privilege and status. The ambiguity between honest, wronged victim and villainous persona here is intriguing, especially given Swift's penchant for earnestness; obviously she cannot be both, but the tension drives the song. The song itself is a mixed bag; Swift returns to the messy rapping last heard on "Shake It Off" with an equally cringey spoken-word interlude, but her voice is simutaneously delicate and confident as she comes out swinging. While I love seeing Blood!Swift writing a hitlist of enemies like an evil Santa Claus and the hint of confronting the less attractive/more honest parts of her role in the spotlight, only time will tell whether this is truly a playful new direction or more of the same old tune. (Also, what did we make her do? The answer is classic Swift, diabolically obvious: we made her write a song about it.) [7]

Jessica Doyle: A week on I still hear more self-loathing than anything else. Nothing the supposed New Taylor offers up comes off particularly convincingly; there's no glee in her reinvention. Compare the way she rushes through honey-I-rose-up-from-the-dead when she once sounded like she was thoroughly enjoying Boys only want love when it's torture. She doesn't sound smarter, or harder; look what you made me do, when she's spent the last eighteen months making a point of not doing anything. There's no air in here, no space beyond the multiple annotated versions and multiple thinkpieces declaring her a walking horsebitch of the Trumpocalypse. Just Taylor Swift practicing telling herself to shut up, Taylor Swift wondering about karma, Taylor Swift reading Buzzfeed and taking careful notes, Taylor Swift unable to make a point about anything at all except Taylor Swift. You don't realize, when you're in the thick of it, that self-loathing is just as relentlessly, narrowly egotistical as any other kind of self-obsession. It gets old, finally. It wears you out. It wears everybody out. Right? Yes? Can we all agree to be worn out now? Are we going to allow her to move on? She can't rise up from the dead if we don't let her die first. [3]

Cassy Gress: There was a time when I thought 1989 pajama-parties-and-kittens Taylor was the "real Taylor." I don't know if that really was. What I do know is that trying to figure out who the "real Taylor" is, and arguing on the internet about it, is fucking exhausting. So much of her musical output has been autobiographical, or meant to sound generically autobiographical to women listeners; so much of her reads as "pussycat with claws." Sometimes she emphasizes the pussycat side, soft and vulnerable; "Look What You Made Me Do" is the claws side. But Taylor, who we know has the ability to be nuanced and evocative, is here transmitting her intent (to destroy Kanye, or Katy, or Hiddleston, or her old selves, or just to be the cleverest sausage) like a hammer to the skull. This, like much else about her, is exhausting to watch/listen to. I would much rather close the blinds and put on my headphones and watch GBBO reruns in my jammies. [2]

Olivia Rafferty: Washing in with the arrival of her sixth album are a tidal wave of thinkpieces on Swift, all set within the context of her A-list feuds, miscalculations and politics, or lack thereof. We've all sifted through stories of fake boyfriends, cheap shots and oblivious colonialism, and I'm going to speak for all of us when I say we probably should just all take a goddamn break from the vortex. I'm placing LWYMMD in a vacuum for now. Reaching into the embarrassing depths of my personal history, I can draw up two different past-Olivias who would be a perfect fit for this song. I'm gifting the verse, pre-chorus and middle eight to my 10-year-old self, and the chorus to my 17-year-old self. Olivia at 10 would lap up the overly-dramatic opening lines, the "I. Don't. Likes" and their thick punctuation. It's served with the attitude that would have made you want to stick on a crop top and pick up one of your tiny handbags to fling about during an ill-prepared dance routine -- no, Mum, it's not finished yet! And the moment of absolute pre-teen glory is the cheerleader delivery of the spoken half-verse, "the world moves on another day another drama drama," I can literally see the Beanie Baby music video re-enactment. All of these melodic aspects are playful but lack the precision or maturity you'd expect Swift to deliver on this "good girl grown up" song. When the chorus hits you suddenly mature into that 17 year-old whose friends-but-not-really-friends played that Peaches song at someone's house party. You could probably embarassingly attempt a slut-drop to it in your bedroom, pretending you're a dominatrix who's just split some milk on the floor. But the overall impression is that if Swift is trying to be naughty, sexy or dangerous, she's missed the mark a little. Now at 25 I'm listening and thinking that the chorus still snaps, but if this track was an attempt at sexualising Taylor in a way that's not been done before, it's only made it clear that she's still got a lot of growing up to do. [6]

Joshua Copperman: From the first bar chimes sound effect, I was worried, and I suppose my feelings didn't improve by the time the "tilted stage" line happened. On "Out Of The Woods", Antonoff and Swift brought out the best in each other (Jack's big choruses, Taylor's specific references), but on "Look What You Made Me Do", they bring out the worst (Jack's obnoxiousness, Taylor's pettiness.) Antonoff can do flamboyant earnestness, especially when it blends with Lorde's self-awareness and quirkiness; he just can't do dark and edgy. Or even campy, apparently: the glorious video mostly takes care of that, giving the song an intensity and glamour that it doesn't have nor deserve on its own. Yet even the video often misses the humor inherent in moments like the terrible rap in the second verse, or the already-infamous lift from "I'm Too Sexy". The ultimate effect is like John Green praising a burn of himself without realizing why the burn was deserved in the first place. In this case, it's one Taylor saying to another Taylor "there she goes, playing the victim, again", even though the preceding song couldn't even play the victim or villain well enough. [4]

Mo Kim: There was a time in my life when I looked up to Taylor Swift. I was eighteen once, clearing my throat of all the doubts that haunted it, and the only way I had to express myself was through songs about slights that exploded like firecrackers. But a voice with that strength comes with responsibility. Sometimes you need to stop reveling in the volume of your own speech to see the platform of power you stand on; otherwise you might build a version of yourself on the rickety foundation of innocence only to find it crashing down. On "Look What You Made Me Do," she's still trying for the pottery shard hooks that once made her so important to petty queer kids like me. It works in bits and spurts: that second verse is a bucket of water and an emergency siren to the face, and the pre-chorus utilizes a sinister piano and eerie vocal production to great effect. Too bad, then, that the flimsy chorus and winky-face lyrics cave in on themselves more easily than almost anything she's written before (like a house of cards, some might say). That it so blatantly abjects responsibility onto her audience, however, is the biggest point against it: instead of personability, or at least the pretense of it, there's just layer after layer of metanarrative. Instead of a telling that acknowledges her history -- a complicated, troubling, rich one -- there's just Queen Bee Taylor, sneering over a landfill heap of old Taylors before she discards of all her past selves. I used to hold stadiums in my chest as I listened to the stories Swift spun; now I feel like the lights have finally crackled out, and here she is, dithering in the debris of her crumbling empire, and here we are, looking down. [5]

Josh Love: If Taylor wants to go in, that's her prerogative, but because this is a song that none of us plebes can actually relate to, it's only fair to judge it solely based on whether it goes hard, and I'm sorry to report that Taylor has no bars. "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" and "Shake It Off" seemed like wild stabs at first too, but they possessed an inclusivity that's curdled into Yeezus-level petulance here. There's nothing here to suggest she's capable of making Reputation her Lemonade. At least the video gives me some hope that maybe she realizes she's a complete dork. [3]

Anthony Easton: This is the hardest for me to grade, because I still don't know if it is good, but it is constructed in such a way that people like me (critic, liberal elitist, homosexual) are pressed to have opinions. It steals with such quickness, and with such weirdness that the opinions give birth to other opinons, somewhere between a snake hall and the ouroboros she already quotes. It sounds like Lorde, it samples Peaches, it plays with electroclash, which was a genre that was already heavily recursive. It tries to be without feeling, but it feels all too deeply. That is enough to spend time with, that is enough to unpack. It sounds like Lorde because they are both working with Jack Antonoff. Who is cribbing from who here? Is Lorde playing like Swift, is Swift cribbing Lorde's lankness, are both pulling outside of their influence, by the commercial, mainstreamed weirdness of Antonoff? Swift was always pretty; her main skill was using guile to a stiletto edge. This edges on ugliness, but it is still "ugly." Women like Peaches or the cabaret singer Bridgett Everett know how to sing, have the ambition to sing well, but chose to reject good taste for social and political power. Taylor playing with being ugly, with being flat, with kind of half singing, with no longer being the cheerleader, is not a formal refusal of beauty as a political means but has the louche boredom of a hanger-on, with maybe a bit of anger at not being cool enough. It's a capital blankness that raids and doesn't contribute. Part of the ugliness of Peaches, part of the joy of electroclash, is not only how it absorbs the amoral around it--Grace Jones, The Normal, Joy Division, Klaus Nomi--but that the sex of it works so hard. The fucking is less pleasure than hard work--the grit of dirt and sweat and bodies. When Swift quotes Peaches, she is quoting the reduction of pop to a stripping down of bodies through a formal aesthetic choice. When she quotes noir, it is an attempt to self-consciously think of herself as a body who is capable of doing real damage. Swift flatters herself as someone whose suicide could be a nihilist aesthetic gesture. She flatters herself as a fatale. She's still the kid who does damage, and plays naif. You can't be pretty and ugly. You can't be a naif fatale. You can't pretend not to care about gossip and make your career about what people think of you. You can only be so much of a feminist and rest on your producers this much, and you cannot play at louche blankness if it is so obvious how much work you are doing. This might suggest that I hate the song, but I can't. Swift doing an "ugly" heel turn fills me with poptimist longing, and I want to hear more. [9]

Eleanor Graham: There is a bit in an old Never Mind The Buzzcocks where Simon Amstell says to Amy Winehouse, "We used to be close! On Popworld, we were close." And Amy Winehouse runs her hand down his face and says, half-pityingly and to thunderous laughter, "She's dead." I don't really know why I'm bringing this up except to illustrate that a woman killing off her former self, against Joan Didion's worldly advice, has a kind of power. The crudest hyperbole. Like Amy in Gone Girl. You don't like this thing about me? You wish I was different? Well, guess what -- I'M DEAD! This line, which Swift delivers with the manic kittenish venom of Reese Witherspoon's character in Big Little Lies, is the only redeeming feature of "Look What You Made Me Do." And yet -- even as someone who has openly thrown politics to the wind in the face of such forever songs as "Style", "State of Grace" and "All Too Well" -- this single is too hallucinatory to be a flat disappointment. Quite aside from the Right Said Fred debacle, the "aw" is reminiscent of Julia Michaels, the second verse of a lobotomised Miz-Biz era Hayley Williams, the production ideas of a mid-2000s CBBC show, and the whole thing of a middle-aged man in a wig playing Sky Ferreira in an SNL skit. Disorientating. Almost euphorically horrible. Say what you want about T Swift, but who else is serving this level of pop Kafkaism in 2017? [2]

Maxwell Cavaseno: Weirdly, everything works for me sorta kinda with the second verse. The percussion thuds in the distance just a little more effectively, and Taylor's whining drone of a rap screams up into that high-pitched melodrama, only to crash and burn into an anemic "Push It," as written by someone who forgot Lady Gaga once could fool us into thinking she was funny. Past that subsection and prior, however, the record truly never clicks. You get the sense that Swift, someone so eagerly to seize the moment, doesn't realize that the horror campiness plays her hand too hard. [2]

Edward Okulicz: Saved from being her worst ever single by an out-of-nowhere, brilliant, Lorde-esque pre-chorus (and the existence of both "Welcome to New York" and "Bad Blood"), this is pretty thin gruel for the first single off a first album in three years. Remember how dense her songwriting used to be? See how clumsy it is on this. Taylor Swift's devolution from essential pop star to somewhat annoying head of a cult of personality is complete. At least there'll be better to come on the album. I hope. [4]

Rachel Bowles: I am guessing (and hoping) that "Look What You Made Me Do" is Reputation's "Shake It Off," a comparatively mediocre introduction to what is ostensibly a good album with some timeless songs ("Style" in particular on 1989). Functionally the same, both songs have to reintroduce Taylor in a new iteration to a cultural narrative she cannot be excluded from, both heavy on self-awareness and light on her signature musical flair. Where "Shake It Off" felt anodyne and compressed, "LWYMMD" is beautifully stripped back, chopping between lowly sung and rhythmically spoken word over a synthesiser, strings or a beat -- verses, bridges and middle 8's passing, though ultimately building to nothing -- the chorus of "LWYMMD" being the swirling void at its centre, one that cannot hold, however fashionable it is to build then strip to anti-climax in EDM and pop. What did Taylor do? The absence of her critical action, the bloody, thirsted-for revenge, can only leave us unsatisfied, like watching a Jacobean tragedy on tilted stage without the final release of death for all. What's left is a painful, public death of media citations of Taylor, played over and over, joylessly. [5]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: 1989 is Taylor Swift's worst album, but that shouldn't necessarily be seen as a bad thing. For an artist whose vocal melodies were able to effectively drive a song forward, it was a bit odd hearing her rely so heavily on a song's instrumentation to do all the heavy lifting. Additionally, the painterly lyrics that drew me to her work in the first place were mostly abandoned for ones more beige (simply compare the most memorable lyrics from 1989 and any other album and it becomes very obvious). It didn't work out for the most part, but I was fine with the mediocrity. And considering how stylistically diverse the album was, I very much saw it as a stepping stone for a future project. Which is why I'm completely unsurprised by the doubling down of "Look What You Made Me Do" -- it's a lead single that's heavily tied to her media perception, finds her abandoning any sense of subtlety, and utilizes amelodic singing to put greater emphasis on the instrumentation itself. It's conceptually brilliant for all these reasons, but it doesn't come together all too well. Namely, the lyrics are almost laughably bad and distract from how physical the song can be, and her calculated attempts at announcing her self-awareness have reached the point of utter parody. That the music video ends with Swift essentially explaining the (unfunny) joke only confirms this. [3]

Rebecca A. Gowns: Every new Taylor Swift single is Vizzini from "The Princess Bride," letting us know that she knows that we know that she knows that we know that she is Taylor Swift, and since she knows that we know (etc. etc. etc.), she can be confident drinking the goblet in front of her, since she knows that she switched around the goblets when we weren't looking, and she's laughing like she's clearly outsmarted us, but little does she know that we've been building up an immunity to her odorless white poison for years. [2]

William John: The hyper-specificity is gone. There are no references here to paper airplane necklaces or dead roses in December or in-jokes written on notes left on doors. In their place, platitudes abound, choruses are forgotten, "time" rhymes with "time", and "drama" with "karma". The latter is pursued with a maniacal intensity, the parody spelled out rather brilliantly in "Blank Space" quickly undoing itself. Rather obviously, "Look What You Made Me Do" does not exist in a vacuum, and the timing and nature of its release are what render it particularly dismaying. Its author, not playing to her previously demonstrated strengths, is seemingly at great pains to fuel fire to certain celebrity feuds, all the while insisting on her exclusion from them. It wouldn't matter so much were she to denounce some of her new fans with the same fervour, but for some reason this era she's opted out of interviews, perhaps at the time when some explanation driven by someone outside her inner circle is most needed. It's one way to forge a reputation, indeed. I do like the way she screams "bad DREAMS!" though. [3]

Leonel Manzanares: An auteur whose entire schtick is about framing herself as a victim, now emboldened by the current climate to address "the haters" using the language of abuse, embracing villainhood. No wonder she's considered the ambassador of Breitbart Pop. [4]

Thomas Inskeep: "Don't you understand? It's your fault that I had to go and become a mean girl!" Yeah, okay, whatever, Ms. White Privilege. [2]

Anjy Ou: For the woman who singularly embodies white female privilege, it's kind of embarrassing that she doesn't have the range. [2]

Will Adams: If you had asked me three months ago, "Hey, between 'Swish Swish' and whatever Taylor Swift ends up putting out this year, which is the more embarrassing diss track?", I wouldn't have thought I'd need to think about the answer this much. [2]

Anaïs Escobar Mathers: "Taylor, you're doing amazing, sweetie," said no one. [1]

Sonia Yang: With an artist as polarizing as Swift, it's easy to make the conversation a messy knot about the real life conflicts she's had, but I find it more interesting to tune that all out and focus on the simplicity of her work as a standalone. "Look What You Made Me Do" is Swift at her most coldly bitter yet, but betrays the resignation of long buried hurt. It's "Blank Space" but with none of the fantastical fun; it toes the line between wary irony and jadedly "becoming the mask." Most telling is the dull echo of the song title in place of a real hook, which is actually a favorite point of mine. Reality doesn't always go out with a bang; it's more likely for one to reach a gloomy conclusion than stumbling upon a glorious epiphany. Musically, I'd call this an awkward transition phase for Taylor -- it's not her worst song ever, but it's admittedly underwhelming compared to the heights we've seen from her. However, I've sat through questionable attempts at reinvention from my favorite artists before and I'm still optimistic about the potential for Swift's growth after this. [7]

Jonathan Bradley: There is nothing Taylor Swift does better than revenge, and this is not that. This is the first Swift single that exists only in conversation with Swift's media-created persona -- even "Blank Space" turned on internally resolved narrative beats and emotional moments -- but it offers little for those who hear pop through celebrity news updates, not speakers or headphones. Compare "Look What You Made Me Do" to "Mean," a pointed and hurt missive that scarified its targets with dangerous care; this new single, however, barely extends beyond the bounds of Swift's own skull. "I don't like your little games," levels Swift, her voice venom, "the role you made me play." The central character -- the only character -- in this narrative is Swift, and she enacts an immolation. Her nastiness is the etiolated savagery of Drake in his more recent and loutish incarnation: lonely and lordly, "just a sicko, a real sicko when you get to know me." "I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time" could be Jesse Lacey on Deja Entendu but sunk into the abyss of The Devil and God -- only it's delivered over ugly, the Knife-like electro clanging. The line that succeeds is classic Swift in its brittle theatrics: "Honey, I rose up from the dead; I do it all the time." The spoken-word bridge -- the song's most blatantly campy and deliciously gothic moment -- acts as a witchy incantation, walking most precariously the line between winking vamp and public tantrum. Swift has brought her monstrous birth to the world's light; contra the title, what it is we've made her do isn't even apparent yet. [8]

Lauren Gilbert: I was 18 when "Fearless" was released, and listened to it on repeat my first term of undergrad, feeling freedom and joy and hope. I listened to "We Are Never Getting Back Together" on repeat in an on-again-off-again relationship that should have ended years before it did. I listened to 1989 over and over again after recovering from a nervous breakdown and for the first time, really, truly focused on choosing a life of joy. I should be Here For This. I am not. Pop music thrives on specificity, and Taylor Swift in particular has made a career of writing about hyperspecific situations. This is... generic; it could be sung by Katy Perry, by a female Zayn, by Kim K herself. Taylor offers no hooks to her own life here, and perhaps that's not a flaw; female songwriters have the right to choose not to expose their own lives, and to write the same generic pop song nonsense that everyone else does. But as someone who bought into the whole TSwift authenticity brand -- even while I recognized it as a brand, even while I knew that she was a multimillionaire looking out for her own interests first and foremost, even as she was the definition of a Problematic Fav -- I can't really say I care that much about new Taylor. I could fault Taylor's politics and personality -- and I'm sure other blurbs will -- but the primary failing here isn't Taylor's non-music life. It's that there's no feeling here; it feels as cynical as the line "another day, another drama". Next. [4]

Andy Hutchins: "I'm Too Sexy" + "Mr. Me Too" - basically any of the elements that made "Mr. Me Too" compelling = "Ms. I'm Sexy, Too." [4]

Tara Hillegeist: Let's leave this double-edged sword hang here for a minute: Taylor Swift's personhood is irrelevant to the reality that she is a better creator than she ever gets credit for. Since her earliest days of the demo CDs she'd like to keep buried, Taylor Swift has never been less interesting or more terrible on the ears than when her songs are forcibly positioned as autobiography. For a decade she has cultivated an audience of lovers and haters alike that never felt her--or truly felt for her--because she never wanted them to know her, driven to own her brand even as she's deliberately averred to own up to what lies behind it. Witness the framing of an Etch-a-Sketch of a song like "Look What You Made Me Do": she releases a song about vengeful self-definition mere weeks after finally winning a years-long case against a man who sexually assaulted her and tried to sue her to silence over it on the sheer strength of her own self-representation, and the air charges itself with intimations that she instead meant it for Katy Perry, whose flash-in-the-pan "friendship" she publicly and memorably disowned in a bad song about bad blood an entire album ago, or perhaps Kim Kardashian-West, a woman whose "feud" with her arguably began with Taylor Swift's attempt to paint herself as the victim in an argument with Kim's husband but ended inarguably and decisively in Kim's favor. To claim someone would mangle her targets so ineptly even the conspiracy theorists have to resort to half-guesses and deliberate misquotes to draw out the barbs is a claim it's especially ridiculous to pin on a musician like Taylor Swift, a control freak who once built a labyrinth of personal references into an album full of songs about protagonists nothing like herself just to prove a point to anyone listening to them that closely about how sturdy the songs would be without knowing any of it. A public conversation that misses the point this drastically can only occur if there's a deliberately blank space where any sense of or interest in the person it's about could exist. There is a hole where this most powerfully self-determining popstar lives where a human life has never been glimpsed--because she cast that little girl and her frail voice aside years ago in search of something altogether more influential than such a weak vessel could ever hold. The girl who cajoled her family into spending enough Merrill-Lynch money to cover for her inability to sing until she had enough professional training to sing the songs she wanted to put to her name was never the girl who could truly be a flight risk with a fear of falling, was never the girl who never did anything better than revenge. But she wanted to be the girl who sang the words for that girl, who put her words in that girl's mouth, more than anything else in the world. She staked her name on nothing less than her ability to capitalize on the reputation she acquired. The Taylor Swift of Fearless and Speak Now was a Taylor Swift who believed she could be someone else in your mind, a songwriter dexterous enough to slip between gothic pop, americana-infused new wave, and pop-punk piss-offs without shaking that crisply machine-tooled Pennsylvania diction. A decade on, she's learned a lesson enough women before her already learned it's shocking she wasn't ready for it: when you're a girl and you make something about being a girl, everyone thinks you just had yourself in mind. The proof that she was more than that--more than the songs on the radio, you might say--was always there; it wasn't hidden, it wasn't obscured. But from Red onwards that Taylor began to die; a straighter Taylor Swift emerged in more ways than just her hair, all the kinks ironing themselves out in favor of her remodeling herself into a different sort of someone else's voice. Where once stood a Taylor Swift who sang for the sake of seeing her words sung by someone else's mouth back to her, there now stood a Taylor Swift who sang everyone else's words about her back to them. Tabloids cannot resurrect a life that a woman never lived, and no amount of retrospective sleight of hand about the girl she might have lied about being can hide the truth that neither can she. Conspiracy theories only flourish when people treat the mystery of human motives like a jigsaw puzzle waiting to be solved--ignoring that she already made it clear that was, still and always, the wrong answer to the questions she wouldn't let them ask. She wanted fame, she wanted a reputation; she wanted them on terms she defined; she never wanted anything else half as much as she wanted that. She has used every means available to her to earn them. Her awkward adolescence took a backseat to her life's dream of conquering America's radio. It's no shock, then, that all this gossip-mongering rings as hollow as a crown. The messy melodrama of Southern sympathy and thin-voiced warbles that defined the sweethearted ladygirls of generations before her and beside her and will define those that come after her, the sloppy humanities of Britney and Dolly and Tammy and Leann and Kesha Rose; these fumbling honesties, these vulnerabilities have never been tools in Taylor's narrative repertoire the way she uses the white girlhood she shares with them has been. She owned her protagonists' anxieties; but those songs have never defined her. This was always the moral to the story of Taylor Swift, to anyone--condemning or compassionate--who cared to really hear it: behind her careful compositions and obsessive pleas, Taylor Swift was never interested in making herself a real person at all. That would have cost her everything she ever wanted. And we, the Cicerone masses, ought very well to ask ourselves, before we let that double-edged sword finally fall: would it have been any more worth it, to anyone, if she had been? [2]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#Taylor Swift #Look What You Made Me Do #reputatio

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rhina988 · 7 years

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Indecent Proposal - Chapter 5

Read from the beginning

Read Chapter 4

Jared’s POV

“Wow, that was crazy,” Melody said as we were driving away from the restaurant.

“You haven’t seen anything yet. Just wait until I post that pic of us holding hands,” I said and chuckled, “That’s when the real madness will begin.”

“You’re not helping,” she said obviously terrified.

“Relax, you’ll get the hang of it eventually,” I said and continued to drive.

“I’m not so sure. I never wanted to be under the spotlight,” she said and sighed, clearly worried about the way our situation will develop in the future. Somehow I felt like I should maybe comfort her, but I went with my incessant need to pick on her.

“Well, I guess you’re just gonna have to suck it up, won’t you now, wifey,” I said never taking my eyes of the road.

But the moment I finished the sentence I felt a pit in my stomach. This didn’t feel right, as it would usually do, when I tried to make her feel bad. I could feel the despise coming from her eyes, even though I wasn’t looking at her. This felt even worse, but I just ignored the feeling and kept driving.

We remained silent for the rest of the ride. Luckily, her apartment wasn’t too far away from the restaurant, so we didn’t have to coexist in that awkward silence much longer. After a couple of minutes we were in front of Melody’s building.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said and opened the door, slowly stepping out of the car. I thought she’d say “goodbye” or something, so I just kept quiet. However, she just turned and I saw she was about to shut the door.

“You’re wel...” BAM! She slammed the door in the middle of my sentence “...welcome,” I whispered and looked at her entering the building, all devastated and confused.

“Hey bro. How did it go?” Shannon was sitting in the living room with Emma, talking about our next trip to NY.

“Fine, I guess,” I said and plopped on the couch. This lunch was kinda exhausting.

“Details, Jared, we need details,” Emma said and put away her lap top.

“She said yes, we’re announcing the engagement tonight, she’s moving in tomorrow. Satisfied?” I asked and raised my eyebrows, obviously annoyed.

“Good. Now I can plan the wedding,” Emma said and took her phone.

“Just please as smaller and intimate as possible...” I suggested and then remembered why we’re doing this in the first place “...or whatever you feel it has to be,” I added and leaned my head against the back of the couch closing my eyes for a moment.

“So, how did the future Mrs. Leto reacted to the whole arrangement?” Shannon asked me and as he said Mrs. Leto, my heart skipped a beat “Things are moving kinda fast, huh?”

“She thought that too, but I explained that’s what we have to do, and she was fine,” I was trying to be brief.

“Hmm, you’re awfully secretive. What’s going on in that head of yours, little brother?”

“I’m just tired and overwhelmed. Oh, and not to mention, I’m getting a wife in 10 days, my life turned upside down and all that,” I sapped at Shannon and got off the bed heading outside for some air.

A wife. I’m gonna have a wife. This was so crazy, that it somehow made me feel comfortable from time to time. The more I thought about it, the more I grew to like the idea. I’ve always thought about settling down, but not one girl was able to do that. And now when I think about my life with Melody, I can feel this strange warm feeling in my stomach. Like it’s the right thing to do. She does, however, look like a type of women who’ll know to take care of her man. Too bad our marriage won’t be like that, but maybe she learns to feel a bit less repulsed by me.

Suddenly I heard a door opening.

“You OK”, Shannon walked behind me, tapping me on the shoulder.

“Yeah, just thinking”.

“About Melody?”

“Yeah,” I said and chuckled, “She’s so innocent in all this, so devastated and confused I think.... and I didn’t do a damn thing to make her feel more comfortable,” I said and set by the pool dipping my legs in the water.

“Do I hear a guilty conscious speaking? ” Shannon asked and sat right next to me.

“Maybe... a little, I don’t know. All I do know is that I simply can’t help it. Whenever I’m around her I just push her away with my behavior”.

“That’s what you call a defense mechanism, brother,” Shannon said and splashed a bit of water with his feet. I looked at him confused, waiting to hear an explanation.

“What do you mean...” I said and raised my eyebrows pointing the obvious. I had no idea what he meant by that statement.

“You’re afraid of commitment.”

“Really? That’s your big answer? ” I said and giggled.

“Mhm. You’re deliberately teasing her and doing everything in your power to make her hate you, so she doesn’t fall for you. Because if she loves you back, you’ll have to commit and engage in a relationship, which terrifies you in the first place, considering you’re living this life of a rock star/actor/ whatever celebrity person, ” Shannon said and his words suddenly made sense. I didn’t say a word, just tried to wrap my head around all this.

“Um... when did you get your psychology degree, if I may ask,” I was trying to be funny.

“Ha, ha ... make fun all you want, but you know I’m right”.

“Oh, and what did you mean by, love me back”

“Don’t play dumb with me little bro. As I mentioned the other day, we all know you have feelings for Melody. If it was subconscious before, now it’s definitely lurking around your mind, and your heart of course.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I tried to deny it, but I knew it was in vain. Shannon knew me better than anyone else did, and the only one ridiculous in this conversation was I.

“Whatever you say, J” Shannon smiled at me, knowing I bluffed. “So, where’s the lucky girl now? Why didn’t she come over?”

“You’re kidding right? I’m sure she’ll only spend the nights in this house after we get married. She can barely look at me right now.”

“It’s funny though. I’ve been thinking, and we don’t actually know a single important thing about her. Where she’s from, what’s her family like, what’s she into... you know? We never managed to bond with her, like we did with Emma,” Shannon acknowledged and I thought about what Emma said the other day.

“Actually, Emma told me yesterday that Melody doesn’t have a family, but I didn’t get the chance to ask how come,” I was a bit sad about it. This made me feel even worse about giving Melody such a hard time every day.

“Wow, that’s terrible. Well, you’ll just have to get to know her better, then. And make her life much more bearable. Got it?” Shannon was kinda protective over Melody all of a sudden.

“I guess I’ll try,” I said and took a deep breath. Then I started to think about her life.

What happened to her family? What did she do when she wasn’t working? Does she have a bunch of friends, or just a couple? Does she like to socialize or not? Having in mind that she always appeared shy and delicate, I assumed she didn’t like to be surrounded by a sea of people. But who knows, that brave confident Melody from this morning did leave a strong impression on me.

But then again, the fragile, tender Melody from the lunch, that was all alone in the world, and needed someone to take care of her, appeared even more attractive. This girl made me feel both like I want to hug her and save her from the big bad world, but at times I just couldn’t help but tease and pick on her. Why was I experiencing so many different emotions all at once?

Melody’s POV

I was finally back in my apartment. This lunch was by far the most emotional I’ve had in my life. Is this what the next year is gonna be like? All acting and false pretenses? I feel like I’m already losing my mind when I try to put on a brave face, and convince Jared I’m stronger than I actually am. I never lied, made things up and had the need to be somebody I’m not. This is not gonna be at all easy for me. Jared must be thrilled to act around and put himself in a whole new challenge with the role of a happy hubby, but I’m not an actress. I hate pretending to be the person I’m not, and will never be even close to. But I guess I’m gonna have to be an Oscar worthy actress, if I want to help Jamie. All I have to think about is him. This is all for his sake, and so that I can see him happy, healthy and with his family.

I changed to more comfortable clothes, and took my phone to call Emma. I needed tomorrow morning free, because of Jamie’s surgery, and I was hoping she’d understand.

“Hey Emma, it’s Melody”

“Hi, doll, what’s up?” she asked me and I could hear her moving. Was she still with Jared, and she didn’t want him to know I was calling?

“I was wondering if I could get tomorrow morning free? I know I was absent today, unplanned, but I have kind of an emergency in the morning, so...”

“Is it something serious?”, she sounded worried.

“Um... yes, something like that, but I can’t really tell you what it’s about. I mean, I’m fine, don’t worry, I just need the morning free. Is that OK?”

“Sure, you can take the entire day off. But you’re working overtime after that.” , she chuckled, I knew she would never hold that against me. She was such a sweetheart. Plus I’ve never had an unplanned day off before, so this was really a unique opportunity.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” I smiled and sighed in relief.

“No worries, see you in two days”, Emma said and hung up.

The next morning

I had barely slept last night, I was too nervous about Jamie’s surgery. I couldn’t wait for my alarm to go off so I could get up, take a shower, and go to the hospital. When it finally signalized, I jumped off the bed, hit the bathroom, and was done literally in 10 minutes. I decided to have coffee at the hospital; I couldn’t wait to be there by Karen’s side. She needed all the support in the world. Knowing that your husband’s and son’s lives hang by a thread, and all you can do is sit and wait is by far the worst feeling in the world, I imagine.

I threw on my black leather pants, grey t-shirt and black leather jacket with my black sneaker wedges. That was the most comfortable yet decent enough for the hospital, and in case Emma needed me to come to work. I took my plaid scarf because the weather was cloudy and windy, and it seemed like the rain might start any minute. The day seemed to perfectly describe the way I felt inside. Gloomy, worried, devastated and full of fear.

When I got into the hospital I saw the doctors taking Jamie to the surgery, I didn’t even managed to tell him anything. Karen was standing in front of Jamie’s room watching the nurses and doctors take her little boy to the OR. I came close and gave her a hug.

“Melody, you made it” she was relieved she had someone to be with her.

“Of course. I took the day off. How’s Jack?”

“He was OK, they took him in, a couple of minutes ago. This is gonna be really long an tough day” she said and sighed.

“I know. Are you maybe hungry? Do you want to go to the cafeteria and grab something to eat? Or drink coffee maybe?”

“Coffee sounds great,” she said, ”I need something to warm me up”

We went to take some coffee and try to distract one another from the idea that most important persons in our lives were going through most dangerous hours in their lives. We’ve spent two hours chatting, always going back to talk about Jamie and Jack. At one point, we would talk about girl stuff, but somehow we would always go back to the two of them, and then we’d cry a bit; just the mere thought something might go wrong during the surgery drived us both crazy. At one point, I heard my phone buzzing. I got a text from Jared.

---

Where are you? Why didn’t you come today?

---

I just ignored it. This was the first time he ever texted me and I get this kind of message. Who did he think he was to ask me something like that? Then I realized he had probably posted the photo from lunch, last night, and I failed to tell him I won’t be at his place before this evening. Still, Jared was the last thing on my mind, and I couldn’t handle dealing with him now. But, Jared being the way he is, he insisted on texting for the next half hour, with me still ignoring

---

Why aren’t you answering me?

---

Where the hell are you?

---

Are you seriously ignoring my messages?

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Emma just told me you are coming tonight. We’ll need to talk about that.

---

After half an hour the messages finally stopped, then Jared called me. I ignored the call as well. I was so not in any condition to talk to him right now. Why was he so persistent? It’s not like the world would end if I didn’t answer him. Plus, if Emma told him I checked in with her, what was the big deal I didn’t answer him.

Another hour had gone by, and Karen and I became more nervous by the minute. We were sitting in front of the OR, then pacing in front of it, then just leaned against the wall, and at some point, I was even sitting on the floor. The anticipation was killing us. No doctor, no nurse, nobody would come to tell us anything, and we somehow thought that was a good thing. It probably meant the surgery was going as planned...

But then the doctor stepped out of the OR with the most terrifying look on his face. Karen and I got up, looked at each other, and hugged. Our hearts raced like crazy, the doctor seemed as if he was walking in slow motion. He huffed and wiped his forehead as he was stepping towards us, clearly nervous and overwhelmed.

Read Chapter 6

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