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neonlights92 · 3 years

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RUN: Chapter II

Jeon Jungkook hops from bed to bed, sleeping with as many beautiful, rich women as he can possibly find time for. He’s young and attractive, with a silver tongue that gets him practically anything he wants. So when his friend and boss, Kim Taehyung, tells him it’s time to settle down, Jungkook takes it pretty badly. And when he finds out that the woman he’s destined to marry is, in fact, his little sister’s best friend, he is less than impressed.

You have spent your entire life trying to forget the way you feel about Jeon Jungkook. So when you find out that Jungkook is to be your husband - and that he is anything but pleased about it - your world is thrown into chaos. How can you survive a loveless marriage with the man you are hopelessly in love with?

WARNINGS: Language, some violence and eventual smut.

A/N:ENJOY!!!!

Your wedding came and went like the wind.

It hadn’t been a large affair - barely more than fifty people had attended - but your mother had cried of course, and so had Jungkook’s mum, and at the end of it you were Mrs Jeon.

Your new husband had kissed you at the end of it - gently, quickly, like it didn’t really mean much - but you couldn’t help it that your heart skipped at the feeling. Your first kiss with the man you’d spent most of your life loving, and it was like vapour.

And now here you were, stood in the foyer of Jungkook’s apartment, wondering what the hell you were doing. You felt like some kind of imposter - a woman only pretending to be Jungkook’s wife. You tightened the hold on your suitcase, the one your mother had made you pack only a week prior.

“Most of your things will be sent over in the days after you marry,” She’d told you, eyes mischievous, “But you’ll need something special for your wedding night.”

You scoffed.

Your wedding night had been anything but spectacular.

Bangtan had splashed out on an incredibly expensive hotel complete with matching robes and expensive champagne, but you’d spent most of the night alone. You hadn’t been able to bare much of the reception, claiming a headache only an hour and a half into the festivities, and though Jungkook had seemed less than happy about it, he’d told you to make your way to the hotel room without him.

Of course, when you’d arrived all you’d done was to get into bed and cry yourself into some kind of dreamless sleep, feeling like nothing could ever make you happy again. Hours had passed before Jungkook joined you, and when he did, you didn’t mention the smell of perfume on him, and he stayed far, far away from you.

You shook your head furiously, trying to rid your mind of all those horrible memories.

One day, you hoped, you’d have beautiful children, and then you could shower them with all of your unrequited love.

“Are you listening to me?”

Jungkook’s voice shook you out of your reverie and you turned to face him sharply, eyes wide.

“What?”

He sighed heavily, “I said you can either move into the guest room or join me in the master bedroom. What would you prefer?”

You knew what your heart wanted of course.

As stupid as it may have been - and it was astoundingly dumb - you still wanted to share Jungkook’s life with him. You wanted to be able to indulge in the intimacies of marriage and your chest tightened as you remembered what you were to your husband - a hindrance.

“Will it be alright if we share different beds?”

He rose a dark brow, “What do you mean?”

“Your employees,” You clarified, tucking some hair behind your ears and avoiding his eyes, “They won’t think it’s… Inappropriate, will they?”

You hated the strange code of conduct you were being forced into. You loved Jungkook - you wanted to give him yourself, whole heartedly - and yet you had to walk around the truth. You had to pretend like every moment you spent here wasn’t causing irreparable damage to your heart.

Jungkook shrugged, “So what if they do? I don’t give a shit what people say and neither should you. You should sleep wherever you prefer.”

The words hung in the air and you watched his face carefully.

He knew how you felt about him didn’t he? So he had to know you’d prefer sharing his bed. You collected yourself, and after a moment smiled gently.

“Then I think we should share the master bedroom.” If he was surprised he hid it well.

“Okay. This way then.”

You followed him down the hallway and stared at the planes of his back. The suit jacket he was wearing hugged his shoulders perfectly, and despite yourself something in your stomach swelled.

You were his wife now, weren’t you?

Did that not come with certain expectations?

You wondered if Jungkook even found you attractive. Surely if he wanted you in any capacity, he would’ve come looking for your company on your wedding night.

You bit back the tears. Now was not the time for this.

The master bedroom was big of course, but basically empty. Jungkook cleared his throat as you stood in the doorway to the room, observing your surroundings.

“I don’t spend a lot of time at home,” He started by way of explanation, “So urm… That’s why everything’s quite bare.”

You nodded slowly, “I understand.”

“You can do whatever you want in here,” He waved his hand noncommittally, “Within reason, of course.” The joke was weak but you pushed out a soft laugh nonetheless.

“Is that all you have with you?” He pointed at the small piece of luggage you were holding.

You shrugged, “My mom insisted she’d have the rest sent over to me,” You dropped the suitcase at the end of the huge bed you’d be sharing with Jungkook for maybe the rest of your life.

“So what’s in there then?” He cocked his head to the side, confused.

You felt your cheeks blush, brazenly, and you cleared your throat, more than a little uncomfortable.

“She told me to pack some things for the wedding night,” You answered, finally lifting your gaze to meet with his, “It’s not a big deal.”

But you knew that was a lie. Your heart was beating rapidly at just the thought of Jungkook knowing you’d brought intimate clothing along with you, and you knew that the only reason you’d told him it was because you wanted him to think about you scantily clad in lacy underwear.

You wanted him to be attracted to you, despite the fact this marriage was born out of duty for him. You thought that maybe if he wanted your body, you could find a way to open up his heart as well.

“They still do that?” Jungkook’s voice was painted with disbelief.

You quirked a brow, “Do what?” “The whole wedding night lingerie thing,” He laughed tightly, “My hyungs all told me about it but it just sounds… Kind of outdated to me.” Another stab in the heart. You tugged a hand through your hair.

“Oh.” He frowned carefully and sighed, “I’m sorry. Did that hurt your feelings?”

It pained you how easily Jungkook saw through your armour. How would you survive a lifetime with him? How could you hide from his gaze when he knew you so well?

You felt stupid and useless suddenly.

“No.” You replied, voice catching slightly at the end, “You’re right. It is outdated.” You thought of the racy red number your mother had insisted Jungkook would love. He would never see it of course - but part of you had hoped he would. Part of you had hoped he’d not only see you in it… But love you in it, too.

It was a foolish hope.

“Is it alright if I rest?” You asked him after a moment, smiling despite the tears that crawled up the back of your throat, “I’m really quite tired. It’s been a long week.”

Jungkook’s eyes searched your face and you forced your expression into one of neutrality. Just because he knew how you felt - just because he knew you loved him - didn’t mean you always had to be the vulnerable one.

You could learn to protect yourself. You’d grown up around monsters. Around people who manipulated and hurt others.

You just had to learn how to navigate this new reality.

This marriage.

“Yes of course,” Jungkook told you once his eyes had searched right down to the very depths of your soul, “Dinner will be served at around seven, okay?”

You nodded, tightly, “Fine.”

He watched you for a moment more, before finally slipping out of the door and allowing your facade to finally relax. You crawled onto the king sized bed, and pulled the blankets up around you - finally giving way to the tears that had been scratching the back of your eyelids since the minute you woke up this morning.

And as you lay in the bed you’d share with your husband - crying once again over the man who had your heart but didn’t deserve it - you promised yourself that this would be that last time.

That you wouldn’t cry over Jeon fucking Jungkook again.

And even though you were lying to yourself, you repeated that mantra to yourself all night. Over and over again.

Until finally you fell asleep.

And even then you dreamt of him.

The days passed through your fingers like sand. You spent more time than ever pining after Jungkook - qua though the two of you now shared a bed, nothing had changed.

During the day your husband was barely home. And even when he was he was always too busy to pay you any attention.

And at night you slept as far away from each other as possible. Most nights were spent falling asleep to the sight of the planes of his smooth back.

Jungkook wasn’t cruel. He always spoke to you kindly. He smiled whenever he saw you, and occasionally laughed at any jokes you tried to make.

But he was distant. Always held you at an arm’s length.

He never searched out your company, and you wondered if maybe that was because he knew how you felt. He knew you loved him - he knew you’d loved him for so long - and maybe he didn’t want to make matters worse.

He had never promised you love. In fact… He had almost promised you the polar opposite.

And so you spent most of your time alone.

Today was no different.

You tugged on the thread you were using to patch up one of Jungkook’s suit jackets - no doubt he’d created the tears during one of his many business meetings - and sighed heavily to yourself.

You’d seen the jacket earlier that morning, hanging in your shared closet, when you’d noticed the hole. Perhaps it was a need to make Jungkook happy, or perhaps it was boredom, but either way now you were sitting with a needle and thread, fixing it.

A knock at the door pulled you out of what you were doing.

“Come in,” You said softly, expecting Jennie to be on the other side. When the portal opened and it was actually Nayeon you stood excitedly, dropping Jungkook’s jacket and rushing over to her.

“Did you miss me?” She smiled widely as you rushed into her waiting embrace, squeezing her tightly.

“Oh my god, so much,” You pulled back and felt your eyes well up with tears, “Sorry. I’m so emotional these days.”

She grinned and ran a hand through your hair, “Nothing to apologise for.”

You led her over to the small couch that sat in the corner of your bedroom, and the two of you sat down together.

“How have you been?” She asked after a moment.

You wiped at a tear that had unceremoniously tracked down your cheek, “He barely talks to me.”

The words were not accusing, but there was sadness in them.

Nayeon frowned, “He’s acting like a real jackass.”

“No,” You shook your head vehemently, “It’s not his fault. This whole situation… It’s fucked up.”

“Still. He shouldn’t be mean.”

“He isn’t,” You insisted, “We just… He’s hardly at home as it is… And when he is the last thing he wants to do is talk to me.”

“I’m sorry Y/N,” She really did look sorry too.

You shrugged helplessly, “How many marriages in Bangtan are loveless?”

“Whatever. I just hope he’s not…” She stopped herself abruptly and clicked her tongue, “Never mind.”

You quirked a brow, “No…What were you going to say Nayeon?”

”I don’t want to upset you more,” She answered honestly, eyes shifting across your face carefully.

“There’s next to nothing at the moment that could make me feel any worse.”

It was a terrible sentiment, but it was the truth. Things seemed so bleak that you couldn’t imagine any information would cause a further rift in your already distant marriage.

“It’s just…” Nayeon tugged a hand through her hair and pursed her lips, “You know what Jungkook is like. He’s always dated lots of women at the same time. I’m just - I hope he’s ended those relationships.”

Your heart sank.

Immediately his words from earlier that month rolled across your mind.

I’m not a man of commitment.

Did that mean he didn’t want to be faithful to you? Was he warning you of his inability to keep to just one woman for the rest of his life?

You hadn’t even considered the possibility that Jungkook would cheat on you. Sure, he’d told you he might never love you… But an affair would be too much, wouldn’t it?

“I don’t - we haven’t spoken about that.” You felt your voice shake.

“I know my brother can be a bastard,” Nayeon shook her head, “But if he cheated on you… I would never forgive him.”

Her words fell on you like concrete.

Would you be able to forgive him?

In a sense, Jungkook didn’t really owe you faithfulness did he? In fact… He might have very well warned you against it.

You swallowed thickly.

“You should ask him about it,” Your best friend’s words were resolute, “If he cares for you… Even a little bit, then he’ll give you that respect.”

She was right of course.

Arranged marriage or not, he still owed you basic decency.

You nodded gently, “You’re right.” Your chest was tight as Nayeon reached over and squeezed your hand, “I will.”

Now you would just have to work up the courage to do it.

Nayeon’s words played over and over again in your mind for the following week. You had thought you were strong enough to bring it up to your husband but the truth was every time you wanted to do it, the words had slipped into the back of your throat. Just one look into Jungkook’s dark brown eyes and you had found yourself rendered helpless.

“Y/N.” Jungkook’s voice caused you to look up as you finished working on his suit jacket, “Hi.”

“Oh.” The word left you in a rush, “Sorry. I didn’t realise you would be home so early.” It was a Friday afternoon - sometime after four - and he was standing in the doorway of your bedroom, watching you the way he always did.

“What are you doing?” Your fingers faltered and you pulled the jacket up slightly, “Fixing this for you. It’s been my pet project for the last week.”

“Oh.” He mirrored your expression of surprise from earlier, taking a step towards you, “I see.” There was a beat of silence and then, “Why?” You tightened your grip on the jacket and felt your stomach roll over in anxiety.

“Why what?”

His eyes flickered, “Why are you fixing it for me?” Because I love you.

Of course you couldn't say that, so instead you opted for a shrug.

“Something to do, I suppose.”

After another long moment of watching, Jungkook smiled softly.

“Thank you,” He said, words warm, “That’s very kind of you.” You blushed at the compliment, however small it may be, and returned his smile, “It’s nothing.”

“I uh…” He cleared his throat and shook his head, “I realised that I forgot to tell you something quite important.” You cocked your head to the side, “What is it?” “Tonight. There’s a gala. One of Jimin’s things…”

You felt something akin to excitement swell inside of you. It was sad… But any reason to spend time with Jungkook was something to be celebrated.

“Right.” Your smile widened, “What time?”

“Eight pm,” He told you carefully, “And you’ll need to dress up.” “I know that don’t worry. I’ve been to Jimin’s galas before,” Your voice was slightly teasing and you almost reprimanded yourself for it.

Perhaps once upon a time you could joke with Jungkook like that, but things were different now… Weren't they? Except Jungkook didn’t seem annoyed.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes, “How could I forget? You and Nayeon love causing trouble at the expense of my poor friend Jimin.” You giggled, “We both know Nayeon is the mastermind behind any and all trouble caused,” You shrugged, “I’m a helpless bystander.” “Helpless my ass,” His lips fell into a smirk, “Just because you look like an angel doesn't mean you always act like one.”

Your heart flipped.

An angel?

Jungkook must have noticed the change in your demeanor, because he suddenly seemed awkward himself. He coughed slightly and tugged a hand through his dark hair.

“Anyway. Just uh… be ready at half seven, alright?” His face had slipped back into that infamous Bangtan mask, but you were still warm from his earlier words.

“Okay. I will.” “And uh… Will the jacket be fixed for tonight?”

You felt slightly dazed. Jacket?

“Huh?” His smile was small but he nodded towards the piece of clothing you were gripping so tightly your knuckles had turned white, “Your pet project.”

“Oh right.” You turned the jacket over in your hands and nodded, “Yes. Yeah. It’ll be ready.” “Great. I’ll have Minhyuk prepare the matching trousers for me, then.”

He smiled once more before leaving, and you realised you were holding your breath.

God.

It felt like you had been punched in the stomach.

But you sort of liked it.

“You look beautiful Y/N.” Your maid Jennie tugged the brush through your hair one last time, “The red is striking.” You ran a hand down the bodice of the dress you’d chosen to wear - something stupidly expensive and incredibly tight - and smiled at her nervously.

“Thank you.”

“Jungkook isn’t going to know what to do with himself,” She giggled and your grin widened.

The two of you had always been close, despite the gap in social status.

You didn’t care what tradition dictated, Jennie was your friend - employee or not.

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” You chuckled, biting on your bottom lip, “What time is it?” A knock at the door caused your head to turn and Jennie smirked.

“He’s right on time.” Your stomach fluttered at the thought of your husband, and when your maid moved to throw the portal open you almost fainted.

He looked… so good.

“Hi,” He smiled gently, “Are you ready?” You knew you were checking him out but you couldn’t help yourself.

The suit jacket you’d fixed for him fit him perfectly… And the trousers he was wearing only served to accentuate his perfect thighs.

“Y/N?” He cocked his head to the side and your heart twinged as a lock of hair fell precariously across his forehead.

Damn it.

Jennie pinched your arm and you realised how obvious you were being.

“Sorry,” You cleared your throat, “Yeah. I’m ready.”

You weren’t ready at all. Not to spend the rest of the evening in close quarters with the man who made you feel like a lovestruck teenager, anyway.

But what choice did you have?

Jungkook led you towards the garage, where his very expensive Porsche was parked, and when he held the door open for you, your pulse squeezed.

“Thanks,” You said, cheeks blazing.

Jungkook’s eyes flickered as he watched you climb inside, “No problem.” He answered tightly, clicking the door shut and sliding into the driver’s seat.

It wasn’t until you eased onto the main road that Jungkook spoke again.

“You look nice,” He said, his eyes meeting yours in the rearview mirror.

You turned to face him, your heart thumping uncomfortably against your ribcage, “What?”

“Oh come on don’t act like I’ve never said anything nice to you before,” He groaned, “You’ll make me feel like an asshole.”

“Oh I uh…” You blushed hotly, “Thanks. I guess.”

“You guess? Wow, way to take a compliment, Y/N.” His tone was teasing and you felt yourself falling back into the friendship you’d shared with him before the two of you had been forced into marriage.

This was the Jungkook you fell in love with.

“I just didn’t expect you to say that,” You clarified, turning to look at this side profile.

God he was so handsome, it almost hurt.

“Well it’s true,” He shrugged and shot you a small smile, “You look nice.” “Well so do you.” The words slipped out of you eagerly, “The uh… The suit jacket looks great.”

His smile grew, “It does. Thanks to you, of course. My little seamstress.”

Your heart skipped.

His little seamstress?

“Right,” You choked out, “Well. If you ever need anything fixed then just send it my way.”

“I will.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you but all you could think about was the fact that he’d called you his. Sure, it was in jest, and yeah maybe it wasn't the most romantic of things to say… But still.

It had to count for something.

When Jungkook pulled up in front of the same hotel Bangtan always used for social events, your heart was still fluttering wildly in your chest, but you forced yourself to remain calm.

There were paparazzi milling around the front entrance of the hotel of course, like there always were whenever Jimin organised a gala. Suddenly you felt inadequate.

You’d never been photographed before - your family was not famous enough… You were not beautiful enough for the media to give a shit.

But you knew that Jungkook was well loved by the media - not only was he Bangtan’s resident casanova - but he was also the most open of the special seven. He smiled for photos and had even occasionally bantered with the paparazzi. He dated celebrities - models, singers… Actresses. He was the media’s golden boy.

He was everyone’s golden boy.

Jungkook must have noticed your nerves because he turned to give you a soft smile.

“It’s alright Y/N. Just hold my hand and ignore them okay?”

You nodded, wordlessly, as he stepped out of the car and after a minute opened your door for you. Immediately you felt the buzz of flashbulbs, and you were almost blinded by the light. A warm hand enveloped your own and soon Jungkook was tugging you along.

You blinked against the flashing and watched your husband’s sturdy back, as he led you towards the front entrance determinedly.

“Jungkook! Jungkook! Is this your mysterious new girl?” “Jungkook! Is it true you’re married?”

“Jungkook! Smile!”

Jungkook didn’t stop for any questions and you were thankful for that, holding tightly onto his hand until he finally slipped inside the lobby of the hotel and the paparazzi was behind you. He dropped your hand and you immediately felt cold.

“Here,” He offered his arm, “This is the way Jimin’s always telling me to enter a room.” You nodded and slipped your own arm through his, ignoring the buzz that flitted through you at the contact.

God. You loved him so much.

“Was that as bad as you thought it was going to be?” He asked, eyes sympathetic as he led you over towards the ornate marble staircase.

You bit your bottom lip and sighed, “It was tough.”

“I’m sorry,” He frowned, “Really. It will get better.”

“Jungkook-ah!”

You would recognise that voice anywhere.

Jihyo.

She was coming towards the two of you, beautiful face donning a wide smile. Her eyes flickered between your linked arms for a moment, before she reached you.

“Hello Jihyo,” Jungkook nodded his head politely, “How are you?”

“I’m great Jungkookie,” The nickname caused a hot flush of anger to roll through you. You knew exactly what game she was playing, “How are you?” “I’m fine,” He turned to give you a smile, “You know my wife Y/N, don’t you?” Jihyo’s body froze at the word wife. She was Taehyung’s cousin.

Surely she had to know the two of you had gotten married.

“Yeah, yeah.” She gave you a sharp look, “Nice to see you Y/N.” But her words felt anything but nice.

Immediately you were reminded of Nayeon’s warning.

Your heart thundered against your chest.

What if Jungkook and Jihyo were….

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“Anyway Jungkook I was going to ask you if you were free next weekend,” Her smile was coy as she fluttered her eyelashes up at your husband, “It’s my birthday and-” “We have plans.”

The words surprised you as much as they did Jungkook and you’d been the one to say them.

Jihyo’s gaze flickered over to your own and she raised an angry eyebrow, “What?”

“Me and my husband have plans next weekend,” You pasted the fakest smile onto your face, “Maybe next time.”

And with that you pulled Jungkook away from Jihyo pulse roaring in your ears. You had no idea where that bout of courage had come from but just who did she think she was anyway?

Just because she’d always had everything she wanted, didn’t give her the right to act like a brat.

After a moment, Jungkook turned to give you a smirk, “What was that?” You tried to act nonchalant.

“What was what?”

“That.” His smirk grew, “Were you jealous?” You felt something hot split across your cheeks.

“I don’t want you dating other women.”

The words fell like stones between the two of you.

Jungkook stopped, his eyes raking over you. He frowned.

“I wouldn’t… I would never do that.” “You told me you weren’t a man of commitment,” You told him sincerely, feeling irrational tears crawl up your throat, “But I can’t… I won’t be able to deal with it if you have an affair.”

Jungkook’s eyes softened. He shook his head.

“I didn’t mean I would see other women Y/N.” He pressed a hand to your cheek and you wilted at his touch, “You’re my wife and I respect that. Alright?”

You nodded, eyes boring into his. You wished he would just open himself up to you.

“Okay.” You whispered, not caring that you were surrounded by people, “Thank you.” He pulled his hand away and nodded gently.

Something in his gaze flickered. Whether it was genuine affection or desire or something else entirely you weren’t sure. But it wasn’t that cold indifference he wanted you to believe.

“Let’s go. The others are waiting.”

Your heart turned as he slipped his hand into yours.

If only he could learn to love you, then maybe you really could be happy.

If only.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #fanfic #mafia au #arrange marriage #unrequited love #one sided love #bangtan #bts #fanfiction #angst #smut #fluff

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aquaticstyles · 3 years

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unchained

A while ago I was asked for a “Have You Ever Been In Love” sequel, and while this is probably not the direction you guys were expecting, this is what I came up with. Also, this one’s (loosely) inspired by the song “Scott Street” by the lovely Phoebe Bridgers (highly recommend listening to the spotify sessions version while listening). Fun fact, for forever I misheard the lyrics, thinking she was saying “unchained” instead of “ashamed.” After noticing that I have, in fact, been wrong this entire time, I realized I kinda liked my version better (sorry Phoebe). And, me being me, I ran with it and it spun into this quick, 1.4k part two. Reblogs + feedback help so much! Enjoy!! xx, Jane

“Have you ever been in love?”

Harry’s heart stops.

The question catches him off guard, and not just because he’s not used to interviewers asking such personal ones (he guesses this is what he signed up for when he agreed to be the first male flying solo on the cover of Vogue). It makes his heart stop because of his answer, because of the woman that had once asked him the same exact question.

Harry has never been one to linger in his sadness; he finds it unproductive, and quite honestly, completely depressing. After a break up, one can find the caramel-colored curls belonging to the world’s latest phenomenon sweating out his sorrow, or frustration, at the gym, pounding the boxing bag again and again and again. “Nothing another set can’t fix,” his trainer, Mike, would often tease the man in denial, knowing good and well by his posture upon entering the ring, slumped shoulders and an ever-present crease between his eyebrows, that another one had bit the dust the night prior. Mike had learned fairly quickly to never ask questions, to simply let Harry work out his emotions as he pleases, even if that means letting him walk out with wrapped fists masking throbbing, crimson knuckles.

Harry has never been one to talk about his sadness either; he finds it prolongs the pain rather than diminishing it, an annoying gnat swarming around an abnormally large bite from a crisp apple, halting his progression in enjoying his afternoon snack because he just can’t catch the bloody thing. His sister has tried to break him from his stubborn ways, even resulting to getting the lanky man drunk off tequila in hopes of him finally opening up about his incessant missed targets; however, that only ever ends up with Gemma’s arms holding up the giggling teddy bear and folding his bulky body into a taxi, mimicking cramming a cotton ball into a straw. Therapy was suggested and waved off with an inked palm, because if he doesn’t want to talk to his sister about it, how on earth is he supposed to talk to a stranger?

Never-ending claims of “I’m fine,” and “It just didn’t work out,” and “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” and “It wasn’t even that serious.” Sure, each breakup took a little something out of the man that insisted he was “fine,” but eventually, a couple dozen inked journal pages later, Harry would be back to his normal, happy-go-lucky, perfectly-kind self.

All of these rang true for most of Harry’s young adulthood.

All of these were common occurrences, that is, until Harry met you.

You were unlike anyone he had ever met. Selfless, but not in an over-bearing, walk-all-over-me kind of way. Funny, but not in an underlying-hatred, fake-laugh kind of way. Genuine, but not in a look-at-me, fake kind of way. Honest, in a I-want-to-know-everything-that-makes-you-you, ask-you-questions-until-the-sun-rises kind of way. Drop-dead-gorgeous in the most unbelievable, glowing, ethereal, kind of way that he constantly reminded you of. You were the perfect balance, the missing diamond to even out the coal on the other end of the scale.

Loving you felt like the ocean.

In the morning when there’s a hazy screen covering your lenses, clouding the soft sunlight in a muted, white-washed filter. It’s more gray, yet still golden as the shining mass of fire lazily rises from its slumber. It’s calm, clouds stretched apart like cobwebs in the faded blue sky above, waves leisurely, almost too relaxed, crashing along the bleached shore then disappearing back into the horizon. Still sleepy, still new, an entire day ahead of you.

In the afternoon when the sun is at its highest and hottest, radiating down ultraviolet rays that burn your skin, causing alarmingly red shoulders in need of aloe that soon progressively heal and turn into a bronzed exterior. Speckles of light dancing upon excited waves, similar to a neighborhood of children dressed in pink polka dots and orange overalls running towards the ice cream truck filled to the brim with dreams of sugary stomachaches. It’s saturated, every color its brightest and loudest, pops of cerulean and coral. It’s a blanket of comfort, a suffocating scarf. It’s sweet. It’s sour. A cool glass of lemonade sinking into a bed of quicksand. Annoying and astonishing.

In the night, when the yellowing presence is long gone in the awakening of the moon, the deepest indigo swirling in between pockets of stars dotted and flecked into the atmosphere like freckles. It’s black and blue. You don’t know where the earth stopss and the water begins, familiarity lost as the waves erase each new footprint in the sand. The tide is an abuser, sweet as it sings you in, terrifying as it pulls you under. Skinny dipping, vulnerable, exciting, adrenaline, heart thumping, diving, sinking, drowning.

The morning, the afternoon, the night. The happening, the honeymoon, the heartbreak.

Ever since it ended, everything Harry had ever known was cast aside, thrown out like a Gucci jumper from last season. For the first time in his twenty-six years of living, fourteen of those juggling the obstacles that relationships can and will bring, Harry was irreversibly numb, a pair of frozen, gloveless fingertips blue from the icy wind. Not only did he linger in the gut-wrenching grief, he was absorbed by it. Instead of waking up each morning tucked into the bare side of your body diffusing innocent warmth, sipping a steaming cup of black coffee received by hands much smaller than his own, he woke up with a stranger laying on his chest, cold, with a pounding headache the bottle of whiskey had gladly supplied from the night before. The days felt as if they lasted an eternity, time stuck in slow-motion, tick, tick, ticking, one second, one and a half, one and three quarters, two. He watched the seasons pass, the grass dying and regenerating into its natural emerald shade from his bedroom, dust pocketing in the corners of a picture frame containing two pairs of sparkling eyes and genuine, toothy grins sitting on the windowsill. Nights consisted of him lying sleepless on his back, eyes wide awake, thumbs twiddling as the echoes of helicopters overhead drone in and out. Dozens of missed calls remained unanswered: Mum, Gem, Mitch, Mike, Adam, Sarah, Mum, Mum, Gem, Mum, Mike, Mitch, Gem, Mitch, Mum…

He was stuck, a pancake glued to an ungreased pan, charred. It was when this melancholy had prolonged for nearly its sixth month, and all at home remedies (which included drinking, writing, drinking because he was writing, and writing because he was drinking) failed to provide any peace that he decided to give in to the recommendations from almost every single one of his friends: therapy. After the first session, he was ready to book it and sprint off to a deserted island with nothing but a coconut filled with rum to accompany his solitude. Turns out that one session was the mento to his coca cola of bottled-up emotions, exploding months’ worth of buried feelings and memories in an hour. It took the will of God (and Gemma purposefully lying and telling him they were going to get lunch) to get Harry back in the baby-pink-painted interior of his therapist’s office. After months of talking, sorting, compartmentalizing, yelling, crying, healing, unpacking, and reflecting, Harry tackled down the closure he had been chasing. A year and an album later, when he heard your name, he no longer felt trapped, heart beating rapidly, trying desperately to break apart his ribcage, he felt unchained—a prisoner uncaged, pounds and pounds of metal unlocked from his wrists, free.

Before, your name was paired with a colorless photo album, snapshots of vibrancy draining into black and white, frozen, lifeless, still.

Now, your name resembled a film reel of the best moments, your sweater hanging in his closet, your arm thrown around his mother’s shoulder in a polaroid candid, your laugh echoing in the acoustics of his shower after you nearly slipped on the lavender bubbles coating sudsy toes, your hands massaging his scalp, twisting curls into detailed plaits, your foamy lips smushing against a stubbled cheek, leaving remnants of peppermint mocha in the winter air, your satin skirt contrasting from his purple flares in his backyard, playing thumb war and whispering confessions in the moonlight. The good memories built a brick wall to block out the bad, dimming the light of your downfall.

“Have you ever been in love?” The question echoes again in Harry’s ears, causing a grin and a dimple to pop into his cheek. The fuzzies. Once, twice, three times. Click, shake, tape.

“Yeah, I have.”

279 notes · View notes

calpops · 4 years

Text

falling facade | c.h.

part five: falling fame

part one: falling flowers | part two: falling freedom | part three: falling fears | part four: falling failures

5k words

<< >>

Calming waves crashed on the shore line; Calum’s gaze would have been trained on the sea but Arden sat next to him in the soft light of the evening. A few weeks had passed since their last scheduled promotional post—the picture of them with Duke and the ring in sight had gone over well. They had found time away from the facade and with each other. Arden found solace in the quiet of Calum’s home in comparison to the chaos of Michael’s. Calum welcomed her, often inviting her, sometimes with the ruse of the fake engagement and sometimes all pretenses were dropped in favor of being real. All the time spent together offered new and old knowledge. Calum was finding memories with Arden he hadn’t remembered in ages. He was learning things from the years they were strangers.

“I can’t believe our parents are coming to check on us,” Arden said around a sigh as her fingers dug into the soft sand they sat on. “It’s like we’re twelve and in trouble.”

Calum chuckled at her thought and shifted to angle himself closer to her, to see her better and catch glimpses of the diamond on her finger sifting in and out of the sand. Her cheeks were pink from the day in the sun they had, hair pulled up in a messy bun atop her head and eyes guarded by sunglasses. They had stayed at Calum’s for most of the afternoon but a settled feeling of stir craziness engulfed both of them. Calum suggested the beach and when Arden scrunched up her nose and made a comment about it being packed and filled with tourists Calum smiled and promised his beach wouldn’t be. It was just a small sliver of sand tucked past a pier; only a few people ever ventured to the other side. It was quiet and desolate when they arrived.

“I can’t believe they’ve held off for so long,” Calum rebutted and ate up the raised eyebrow and crooked smirk Arden gave him in response. “Figure my mum would’ve hopped a flight the night the first picture was posted. Really going on a month without parents intervening is just short of a miracle.”

“I guess,” she said with a shrug as grains of sand slipped through her fingers and back to the earth. Calum watched as she lazily ran one finger through the grains, an indent of a scribble following her finger. “I don’t know what we’re going to tell them.”

Calum nodded, more to himself as thoughts consumed him, and shifted once more. His parents had laid off the questioning when it became apparent he couldn’t give them the answers they were looking for. Hence the surprise visit just in time with Arden’s parents' sudden decision to fly out as well. Calum and Arden knew it was planned, that they had called each other behind their backs with only concern and questions as motivation. It was too convenient to not be a joint check up. He didn’t know what they were going to tell them either. He had held his own parents off by telling them they were figuring things out; being a bit evasive and leaving explanations open ended and up for interpretation.

“What have you told your parents so far?” Calum asked, eyes content to stay on Arden as she wiggled her bare feet in the sand and her finger stalled in its scribbling motion.

“Not much,” she admitted and shrugged. “I didn’t really know what to say so I didn’t say much of anything. Sometimes I don’t answer. Sometimes I just let them talk at me.”

The difference in their methods was striking. Calum leaned back, hands hitting the warm sand and sinking in with his weight. Arden went completely still and contemplative. Calum did some thinking as well. It would be so easy to keep up the narrative they had going. The month they had spent together brought them closer and made the fake relationship feel all the more real; especially in moments where guards were down and the only eyes on them were each others’. Calum could very easily pretend the ring on her finger was real but they were still unsure if they were going forward. Arden had been the one to sway him into telling half truths; asked him to keep secrets so she wouldn’t disappoint her parents. And he had been the one to beg her and convince her into the fake relationship in the first place; it had been his words and pleading gazes that made her signature appear on the contracts.

“We don’t need to tell them everything,” Calum suggested and Arden’s mouth twitched ever so slightly. “Stick with what they do know and keep playing it vague.”

Arden shrugged and looked past Calum; her eyes were distant past dark lenses but he knew she was staring off at the sea. Taking in the waves and the way the light of the day faded and shifted to rosy hues that made everything glimmer with a tint of pink. It brought back memories of an abstract painting hanging in the Clifford house; a piece of art designed by gentle hands.

“Is that really what you want to do?” Arden asked and took the sunglasses off her face, perched them on her head and gave new life to hazel eyes. She gave Calum a serious glance, one that asked even more questions than the single sentence she had uttered. “I know you’re really close with your family. It’ll be a lot harder to keep up the act in person. We could just tell them and get the disappointment out of the way. Maybe it’s better to do it sooner rather than later.”

Calum considered her words deeply. He knew it would be strange to evade the entire truth with his family; he was nearly certain Mali wasn’t buying anything that he came up with for explanation and could read past the headlines and tabloids. Calum almost took her up on the offer, but the way her hazel eyes went glossy and her teeth sank into her lower lip stopped him. He shook himself, reminded himself of the deal he had made in his own mind. He brought Arden into this; whether or not it was his idea to get the ring and post the photo—they were both still hazy on that front—it was his management they were appeasing. To keep her safe. From the media, from management, from fans and friends and family.

“We might as well keep playing it the way we have,” Calum suggested even though the words burned the back of his throat just a bit. “We can tell them all of it when we’re ready. They’ll understand. What with the contracts and everything.”

Everything being the confusion that clung to Calum. Being the sense of protectiveness he had developed for Arden. The extremes they were fighting against. Arden let out a breath of relief and Calum knew he made the right decision and chose the right words.

“Thank you,” she said with unwavering eye contact that instilled even more faith in the path they were following.

They held gazes for a moment; the nervous fluttering and heat in Calum’s chest made him look away. Back to the ocean that reminded him of swirls of paint and moments he was starting to remember. He didn’t know how many times he had passed Arden’s painting in the hallway of the Clifford house. Only now, when it was out of sight did he pay it any mind. Arden stretched out beside him, let her hands fall behind her as she leaned back before eventually completely collapsing into the sand in a gentle fall. Her arms went behind her head and Calum was tempted to follow suit but found the view from above too good to miss. His eyes flitted between the evening settling in the sky and Arden lounging in the sand.

“It almost looks like your painting, huh?” He asked, unable to stop the thought from tumbling out of his mouth.

“Hm?” She let out a noise of confusion as she looked up at him.

“The one you did; in the hall at your parents place,” he explained and felt warmth crawl through him, up from his chest to stain his cheeks. “It looked like an ocean sunset to me.”

Arden pursed her lips and let her eyes drift off to the waves glittering with sunset. “Right. That hasn’t been in the hallway for years. Think a record plaque or some music award replaced it a while ago.”

Calum fell silent at that; suddenly immersed in the reality that Arden was his bandmate’s sister and her life had been just as much altered with the rise of the band as theirs had. He hadn’t been to the Clifford residence since their careers took off and they found places of their own. He couldn’t picture the wall with anything but abstract waves and colors that caught and kept attention. Even with a plaque or award that was sure to dominate the wall and domineer confidence Calum thought the wall would feel empty. He noted the downturn of her lips and the way she wouldn’t meet his gaze; something so unnatural for them.

“I always liked it,” Calum said to fill the silence and speak a truth and realization.

“It’s nothing special,” she said and Calum could hear the sentiment of comparing it to the band related piece that claimed its spot. “Art is just a hobby. I’m really not that good.”

The doubt of her own abilities left a lingering ache in Calum’s chest. He yearned to take the sting of her words away, to erase the frown and call her gaze back to his. But she was quiet and watching the water, the even rise and fall of her chest finding rhythm with the rise and crash of waves breaking on the shoreline. Calum bit his lip for a moment.

“I’d like a painting like it,” he decided to say, knowing exactly where it would go and how often he would admire it. He kept his eyes on her as she blushed and finally looked at him.

“Really?”

He nodded and she nodded back; made a half promise that maybe she could do that for him. Her frown disappeared but there was still an air of hurt that captured her. They settled into a somber silence where only the waves made noise between them. The sun was still out; just a touch of light gracing the evening and glittering the beach in a rose gold haze. It was quiet and unknown, hardly anyone lingered on their side of the pier and no one intruded on their business. Calum’s promise that it would be just them was basically fulfilled. Until his eyes swept the sand down the shoreline and found a girl with her phone pointed right at him. At them. Calum’s blood ran fiery through his veins, instincts running wild as he knew the camera was capturing their every move.

“Arden,” he said, trying to keep the panic from his voice so as not to alarm her; so she would stay put and not lurch up to face the camera dead on. “There’s a girl past the pier on the shoreline and I think she’s filming us. Just don’t sit up or look her way.”

Arden went completely still. The usual wiggle of her feet or bounce of her leg was panic stricken and frozen. This was the first encounter with a camera they weren’t expecting. They had employed tactics to keep Arden’s privacy as much as they could. Burying her face against Calum’s chest, hiding behind Duke and a kiss on the cheek, sunglasses and hat to cover up. Calum kept his eye on the girl in the most inconspicuous way he could. Behind his own sunglasses he wasn’t sure she would know his gaze was trained on her as she moved down the shore line and came to a more direct angle of them. Without thinking Calum was moving, shifting his weight to his knees and hands and hovering over the top of a confused Arden.

His back was to the camera and Arden was officially out of sight. She seemed to pick up on his intentions after a moment and a smirk. Her hands came out from behind her head with sand falling from her fingers and palms she settled her hands in his hair, trying to keep up the act and make the position look more natural and intimate. He shifted and settled his weight to one side, hip falling and his body guarding the side of Arden the camera could see. She turned with him, settling against him to better hide her face. Calum felt her warmth against his skin, felt his skin prickle and heart beat a little bit out of rhythm.

“I told you,” she said and her voice rang truths Calum couldn’t forget but would play oblivious to nonetheless. He made a noise of confusion to get her to explain. “I told you if it’s not paparazzi then it’s fans or social media or something.”

“You’re right,” he conceded but sighed. “Sometimes it’s like this. Some fans do this. But not always. Not all of them. It’s been a month and this has only happened once, right?”

It was time for Arden to concede with a timid nod and bitten lip as she considered the truth of his words. Fame always came with a cost; some paid it in droves and pieces of their lives. Others only encountered that cost occasionally. Calum figured that he was set somewhere in the middle.

“Maybe just once is too much for some people,” she said and made Calum’s heart ache; made a piece of hope plummet in his stomach and crash like waves to the shore.

With heart beating fast and hard he sucked in a breath and turned to see if the girl was still lurking. She had taken the hint and headed back toward the pier. Calum thanked her silently, appreciating the fact she didn’t push any further than what had already been done. He didn’t know how Arden would handle having a fan come up directly to them. If it would freak her out, make her freeze; if it and she would be okay or not. Her hands still lingered in his hair and for a selfish moment he stayed quiet; enjoying the feeling and taking a deep breath to try and remember the subtleties. Their moments of intimacy were scattered. The facade of it came with cameras and people who didn’t know the truth. The real moments were defined by privacy and small brushes. Legs touching as they sat next to each other. Hands brushing. Her head rested on his shoulder in a moment of peace. Thank yous said against his cheek.

“I think she’s gone now,” Calum admitted but Arden’s hands surprisingly didn’t fall. “We’re safe.”

Her fingers glided from his hair to his jaw and with bated breath Calum enjoyed the feeling and the flutter of beautiful nerves low in his stomach. Moving together, Calum leaned back and Arden settled to rest her head against his chest, one hand tucked under her and the other laid flat on his stomach. He didn’t say anything, tried to keep his breathing even and worked up the courage to run his fingers lazily up and down her arm. A new moment of bliss captured them as the rest of the world went static and distant. Calum couldn’t focus on the water or the colors of the sunset, he couldn’t hear the waves or the birds chirping overhead. All he could see was Arden’s timid nod and bitten lip; the uncertainty that crossed her face. All he could hear was maybe once is too much.

Sometimes Arden was able to let go of inhibitions and fears of fame. In moments when they were well and truly alone it was as if Calum wasn’t in a known band. He wasn’t a famous musician with fans and media eyes all over him. Arden made him feel normal and safe. But in moments where cameras invaded their privacy it was too much for Arden to forget. It made her feel unusual and uncomfortable.

“We haven’t gone in the water,” Arden said with a soft voice; hazel eyes taking in the ocean for all it was worth. “We should.”

Calum let out a small laugh at her insistence. “It’s probably freezing.”

“Oh it can’t be that bad,” she brushed it off and began to sit up; the second she was gone Calum missed her presence and the feel of her against him. “C’mon. We can at least dip our feet in. Can’t go to the beach and not go in the ocean.”

Calum followed her lead. Reached a hand out to grab hers and felt her fingers lock with his without even looking back. It was another small moment that defined them. He wasn’t wearing a swimsuit but he braved the lapping water anyway; the cool waves took his breath away as they crashed into his feet and the laughter that fell from Arden’s lips warmed him right back up.

“I told you it was cold,” Calum said as Arden shrieked at the water climbing her shins. He brought her closer with their held hands, let her arms wrap around his neck and laughed when it became apparent she was using him to get away from the cold. “Can’t go to the beach and not go in the ocean.”

Calum repeated her words as he lifted her up and brought them in further, the waves lapping up to her back; shorts and t-shirts quickly soaking with salt water. She threw her head back in laughter at his lighthearted mockery and the way her own words came back to bite her. With the sun setting and the heat of the day fleeing the water was even colder than usual but Calum didn’t mind the bite of cold on his skin when Arden was in his hold. When her shrieks disguised with laughter tumbled through his ears. When his name in her voice cut through and the force of the waves brought them even closer together. It took a few minutes to adjust to the cool temperature, little shivers still trembling Arden’s lips but joy lighting up her eyes.

She fell silent and Calum was quiet too, stood with his feet planted in the sand as the motion of the waves knocked into his legs, hands holding Arden up and the force keeping them close together. For just a split second Calum let himself revel in the fact she was so close. It was reminiscent of the dance floor and the living room. Foreheads pressed together, barely a breath between their smiles. Intoxicating sweetness right before him. And in an instant it was gone. Sugar was replaced with the spray of salt and honey melted away in favor of freezing water. She dropped from his hold but went on tiptoes, arms ducking into the water for the first time and a breath of disbelief rattling her. They looked out to where the waves were building; being only past waist deep they received the crashing end of them. They were alone in the water, a feeling of privacy veiling them as no one dared to brave the cold.

“That one looks…” Arden started, observing the wave building in the distance. “Too big.”

Calum scaled the wave in his mind, finding it to be possibly double the size of what they’d endured so far and his eyes widened. “We should run.”

They erupted into laughter and motion, slowly moving through the water. Calum kept a look out behind them, noting that the distance they put between them and the wave wasn’t enough. He grabbed Arden, arms wrapped around her from behind, held her close and tight and let the wave break against his back. The force of the wave was enough to have them stumbling, but with Calum’s support of Arden she stayed mostly upright as the wave passed them; soaking them completely from head to toe. If Calum hadn’t thought fast and held her she may have gone under from the force. He didn’t know how strong of a swimmer she was and wasn’t about ready to find out.

They stumbled out of the water, planted themselves on the shoreline with sopping wet clothes and hair and laughter that collided with the sunset. The waves barely touched their feet after breaking in the distance and lapping to shore. They took a moment to catch their breath, salt water nearly inhaled in the force of the wave. Calum couldn’t take his eyes off of Arden. The moment was dramatic and drowning but the laughter and the grin that couldn’t be contained left Calum feeling afloat. Her laughter bid his on, let chuckles fall from him in strangled breaths as he looked at her in awe.

“You saved my life,” she remarked once the laughter died down but a smirk still arched her lips and twinkled her eyes as she got up and offered a hand to him—she led him back back into the water, only about knee deep. “But you put it in danger first.”

A small splash accompanied by another giggle landed across his chest in a muted burst of cold. Calum was numb from the bite of cold washing over him so thoroughly, her splash was futile but her laughter made it worthwhile. Suddenly he was swept up in mischief, splashing her back past shrieks and chasing her through the water. Inhibitions slipped away and pooled into the open ocean, ready to drift away with the tide. The tense moment and anxiety of eyes and a camera on them disappeared into the sunset, ignorant bliss shrouded them in a curtain of privacy. They enjoyed the water and the sunset colliding against the waves in subtle bursts of color as time bled away from them; night approached with wind rolling off the waves and dark blue capturing the sky, shivering bodies wrapped in towels Calum was glad he thought to pack.

They abandoned the water and their spot on the sand in favor of the car with the heater thawing out their chills. They stayed parked with a view of the night and the moon glaring through the windshield. They were quiet and so was the night, not even the chirp of birds or the crash of waves made way into their small bubble of privacy. Calum chanced a glance over at Arden, sneaking a peak as she sunk further into the towel and watched the wiggle of her legs attempting to bring warmth back to her. If things were different; if she wasn’t Michael’s sister and their relationship wasn’t built around drunken escapades and forced facades, Calum may have thrown his arm over her shoulders and pulled her along the bench seat and to his side. He may have only packed one towel so they could huddle together under it and revel in each other’s body heat. But she was Arden and he was Calum and everything between them was too complicated for anything other than the facade they were living through. Or at least that’s what Calum convinced himself of in that moment.

Instead he just placed a hand on her knee as he had done before; the contact becoming more familiar with each touch. She smiled at him and slid herself closer, just a bit, just enough to communicate that it was okay and that the moment was real. It served as an answer and dug up more questions. Their moments on the beach, pressed so close and eye to eye. Pieces of her puzzle and past falling together. Calum had to wonder if those moments were real too. The line between pretenses and reality was becoming blurrier and blurrier as time went on and days were spent together without contractual reasoning. The sudden urge that had Calum jumping to shield her was less to do with a fuck you to management and more to do with a sense of protectiveness for her. She was timid in the face of a staged and known paparazzi stunt; Calum’s instincts went into overdrive to keep her okay during an unexpected invasion of privacy.

Their gaze broke for a moment, just long enough for her to let out a sigh and for the weight of it to barrel into Calum. Downcast eyes came back to meet one another and pursed lips and a twitching nose spoke of thoughts neither would say out loud. The quiet that settled between them was delicate, drenched in moonlight and privacy. Calum knew it was getting late but it was a thought he’d rather not say; the prospect of parting ways always hanging in the balance of time.

“It’s late,” Arden finally declared, saying what they both already knew and implying what was always to come. “Should probably head back now.”

Calum nodded and pulled his hand away from her, to put the key in the ignition and followed her suggestion as she slid back into her own seat. The drive was stalled for traffic and it bid Calum time to sneak glances at her; to note the way she burrowed into her towel and seemingly failed to keep wet hair from her eyes. Calum was smirking and holding back gentle laughter at her futile attempts to tuck her hair behind her ear; suppressed the ever present yearning to reach over and do it for her. Instead he reached for the radio and let music guide them back to Michael’s place. It was all too familiar a routine. Days spent together felt timeless yet too fast they would end up back in front of the house, back to Arden exiting the car and leaving Calum alone. The only good being the brush of her lips against his warmed cheek as she said her usual goodbye and thank you.

The house was calmer than usual when they pulled up but a light at the front was on for Arden’s homecoming. Neither moved once the car was in park—another piece of the routine falling into place. This time the blissful quiet that almost always ensued was interrupted by the ding and vibration of Calum’s phone. It was incessant and annoying, an obstacle to the few moments of alone time he had left with Arden. With eyes rolling and a breath escaping him he was ready to turn the phone off but notifications with Arden’s name stared back at him and stopped all movement. His anxieties and fears of a phone on the beach were trending. Photos and videos filled his timeline; moments he thought were private splashed across the internet for all to see. Calum knew Arden must have sensed the panic he was trying so hard to hide, her movement toward him and eyes finding the phone highlighting that fact.

The protective moment in the sand wasn’t surprising; Calum figured it would be posted but hoped he’d done enough to keep Arden out of the shot. The moments in the waves with laughter and guards down were what left Calum shell shocked. He thought the fan had fled when it was clear he was drawing a boundary in the sand. He thought the moment was theirs and theirs alone. Now it was an invasion of privacy.

Arden shook her head and Calum caught the shine of her eyes that showed her pain and hurt him as well. “I thought that was real.”

“It was,” Calum quickly defended the intrusive thought that his intentions were anything less than real. “I thought she left. We wouldn’t have gone out if I knew she was still taking photos.”

“Okay,” Arden accepted and Calum was relieved she was so quick to believe him; to trust his word even though the photos and tweets were much louder and painted lies so vividly and so easily. “Okay.”

She repeated the word but it was broken the second time, eyes fixating on the text below the photo; Calum followed her gaze and found scalding words of an unwarranted opinion. About her. He pulled the phone away and locked it; wished she hadn’t had to see that and was thankful she usually avoided social media. Hoped she wouldn’t have to see anything like it again.

She made to leave the car but Calum’s hand on her arm stopped her. “I’ll see you this weekend?”

She was confused for a moment but recognition filtered through quickly. “Right. I’m sure our parents will want to interrogate us together.”

She was distant, voice low and eyes wandering straight through Calum and past the tinted windows of the car. He let her go then, fingertips numb at the loss of contact and heart racing as she slipped out of the car without a near taste of sugar or a goodbye. He contained himself until she was in the house and the door was shut. Then his hands gripped the wheel with white knuckle force as he peeled out and headed home with his frustration. He tried to prevent it, tried to keep her from all she thought that fame was. He wanted nothing more than to keep her tucked away and into his side, away from flashing lights and out of headlines more than necessary.

Now the game was spinning out of their control and Arden was questioning what was real. Calum had those moments too but he was always able to reel himself in and feel his way around the uncertainty. He knew what was in his heart and mind, saw reflections of the same feelings in her eyes and all the smaller moments. He could tell she felt the weight of falling fame landing on her shoulders; he just hoped he could keep them and what was real from collapsing under the pressure.

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143 notes · View notes

scornedlove · 5 years

Text

Chapter Thirteen

Robyn

“Home sweet home” I paused, inhaling a deep breath of the island air as soon as we walked out the airport. I was glad to be here and couldn’t wait to see everyone.

“We’re going to check-in at the hotel, then go see mama” Melanie stated as J loaded their suitcases into a taxi.

“Okay, I’ll be at home, let me know when you’re trying to link up” I replied as I waved my own taxi down.

I couldn’t help but smile when I pulled up to the house. It was lit up in red and green Christmas lights, music was blasting, and it looked as if everyone and their grandma was having a blast.

“Rob!” Rorrey yelled, reaching me before I could even step out the taxi.

“Come’a big head! “ he greeted pulling me in for a tight hug.

“Man, I’ve missed y'all so much” I replied kissing him and leaving a shiny lip print on his cheek.

“Everybody been waiting on you to get here” he grinned, grabbing my suitcase and pulling me towards the house.

Within a few seconds, the rest of the family started bombarding me as well. It was like everyone in my family tree was on the scene today. They were all just as happy to see me as I was to see them. By the time I made it to the living room, I was literally crying tears of joy. I hadn’t been home in so long, I forgot what it felt like to be around family.

“I got some good news” Rorrey announced after everyone returned to the party, . “I was performing downtown and a record producer offered me a deal. He wants me to fly to New York and work on a demo”

“What!?” I yelled as Leandra brought out three tequila filled shot glasses .

“Yeah sis, this gon be big he grinned happily”

“Yup, and I’m going to be there all the way” Le added, handing us a shot. “To big shit Poppin”

“Robyn, weh Rayven? “Mama asked just as I started to pour the liquid gold down my throat and I damn near choked on it. I’d forgotten everyone would be asking about the skettel.

“I in no. She wan do her own thing” I shrugged, attempting to avoid a lie. I had no interest in discussing what happened between us, at least not right now.

“You tek care of ya family now, I aint care what ya’ll go through” she ordered. “And slow down on that drinkin”

“My liver is made up of steel” Le yelled over her shoulder, and I couldn’t help but snicker. Le had a high tolerance and could probably drink more than all of us combined.

“Where’s Mel, I thought she was coming with you” Rorrey asked, pouring himself another shot.

“She stopped to see her mum first but she’ll be here later” I replied, shoving my glass to him so he could refill mine…I was ready to get wasted and join the rest of my family in the turn up. I took one more shot and felt it hit me as I swallowed.

“Come dance with me mama” I jumped up playfully grabbing her hands and swinging them as I rocked to the music that was blasting outside.

“I’m going to bed, go out there with the rest of ya drunk family” she laughed, pushing past me.

I was dancing and celebrating with my family and neighbors, trying to enjoy myself, but hearing Rayven’s name brought that situation from the back of my mind. Those shots had me a little faded and before I knew it, someone passed me a blunt.

“Robyn?” A voice called out, and I couldn’t quite make out who it was. “It’s me, Mike” he grinned, causing my stomach to churn. Everywhere I turned, I kept being reminded of her.

“Hey, how you been” I asked, giving him a quick hug.

“I’ve been ok…not better than you obviously. Damn, you look good girl” he replied as he looked me up and down.

I couldn’t front…time had been good to him as well. He had grown at least 6 inches and was now standing over me with his dreads hanging just past his shoulders. He had no shirt on and was proudly showing off his dark, muscular chest. I caught my eyes traveling down to his print but not before he did.

“We just came from the beach, we saw the party and wanted to check it out. Now, I’m glad we did” he grinned showing his pearly whites.

“Look.."I began before he quickly interrupted.

"I know we left off on a bad note and we haven’t seen each other in years…but I have regretted that day ever since it happened. That was your cousin, I’ve never forgiven myself-"

”-We were sixteen Michael, it’s really not a big deal” I shrugged, bringing the blunt back to my lips. I took a long drag and offered it to him. He took it and did the same, not breaking eye contact.

I don’t know if it was the high I had tonight, the drought I’ve had for the past ten months, or a combination of both, but my nani was screaming for some attention. On cue, my song started blaring from the speakers and my body began to do its own thing. Before I knew it, I was dancing on Michael like I had to show him what he missed out on. As I grinded my hips into his, I could feel his manhood growing, which turned me on even more.

“Come with me” I ordered, pulling him towards the side of the house. I wanted some dick and was feeling bold enough to get it. “Do you have a condom?” I asked and he responded with a nod and pulled it out of his back pocket.

“I just need to feel good” my voice slurred as I whispered in his ear.

“I got you” he replied and began to eagerly suck on my neck. His cologne was so strong that I began to feel nauseated.

“Waaii…” I started to say when he quickly swung me around so that my back was against the house, but it was too late. I vomited all over his perfectly sculpted chest, as he jumped back seconds too late.

“Damn bitch, you must be faded!” Mel yelled, popping up just in time to witness it all. I hadn’t even realized she was here.

“I’m so sor” I started to say as another wave came rushing up. This time, he dodged it and left without another word.

“Rasshole!” Mel shouted towards his back, before coming to grab my hair out of the way. I felt like I was going to die as wave after wave continued to come up. I was so embarrassed but grateful my best friend was there to help me make it inside without anyone else seeing what had just happened.

“What’s wrong?” Ella asked an hour later when she found me on the couch recuperating.

“I drank a lil too much and threw up on Mike” I chuckled back the embarrassment.

“Good, I know bout him and Ray” she laughed. “and I saw you wukkin up wit him. He don’t deserve dat”

“Yeah, you right. I was just having fun tho” I defended myself with a shrug.

“Well, what would be more fun is celebrating my acceptance to the BDF! Training starts the first week of January” she beamed. She always said she’d be a coast guard, looks like dreams have been taking off while I’ve been gone.

“Fi true?! You always said you would, look at you growing up on me. I’m so happy for you” I practically yelled, giving her a big hug.

“That’s why you need to get up! The turn up just started!”

An hour later, we were five deep, wearing all black like a mob. Mel,Le, Nita, and I all grew up on the same block. It had been years since we hung out like we used to. Being with my girls brought the life out of me. They were my sisters and we had an unbreakable bond. I would do anything for them and vice versa.

By 2 a.m. we were on the beach huddled around a small bonfire giggling as we reminisced about the sleepovers we had when we were in middle school. We laughed about buck teeth and old crushes until our guts hurt.

As the waves crashed in the sand, I realized for the first time in a long time, I felt like myself again. I laid back in the sand and relished in the moment.

“What about you Rob? What was de best part of your year?” Nita asked, after everyone raved about the good things that happened to them. Mel’s engagement, Nita was graduating, and will be an MD in the spring, Ella was accepted to the BDF, and Le was going on a tour with Rorrey.

“Nothing. This was a shitty year. I don’t even want to talk about it” I rolled my eyes because my mood was just shot to shit. “A lot of crazy shit happened to me. Never in a million years would I have imagined my life going like this”

“But you’re still here, standing strong. That’s the best part.” Mel interrupted as I pushed back the wave of tears that were on standby. I wasn’t going to ruin a perfect evening with my girls, so I shook off the sadness.

“You know what, this is the most happiness I’ve had in a long time. We should do this at least twice a year. Crop over and Christmas. We have to escape the madness and steal this moment together” I suggested, and they all nodded in agreeance. We spent the rest of the night talking about what we would do different, and how next year will be better until we passed out on the beach, huddled together like old times.

Chris

The past few days have been a complete shock. Kate and Cindy were staying with me since we couldn’t get a decent hotel with the holiday season being here. Her parents weren’t coming back until after the holidays and I didn’t have it in me to just leave them at a dump so I made sure they had everything they would need to get them through the week.

She stayed to herself in the room I initially had set up for Cindy. I hadn’t even realized I still had all the stuff I’d gotten her. She would only come out to eat or dispose of dirty diapers and I barely even knew they were there. Only today was different, it was Christmas and I didn’t know what to do. I had to stop by mama’s and Trey’s today, but there was no way I was bringing Kate along. At the same time, I really didn’t want to leave her alone in my house either.

I glanced at the clock and saw it was a little after eight. I could swing through mama’s to watch her open my gift, then stop by Trey’s for a quick minute, and possibly make it back before she even knew I was gone.

I took a quick shower and was dressed in fifteen minutes tops. I stopped by and peeked in on them, they were sound asleep just as I expected, so I quickly made my exit.

I made it to mom’s just as she was setting the table. After the food was done, I ate like I hadn’t eaten in days, then we exchanged gifts.

“Wow… this is beautiful” mama smiled in awe at the painting I’d made for her. It was a recreation of a picture of the two of us when I was five. It was the first time I had been to the beach, one of my happiest memories.

“I have to get your gift from the garage” she announced before taking off in that direction.

“I have something for you too” Richard stated pulling an envelope out and handing it to me. It was a Christmas card with two tickets for the Lakers game tonight.

“Wow Richard, I would love to go but I can’t accept these. I’ve been so busy that I didn’t get a chance to get you and Amber anything.“

"Nonsense, these are a gift and I want you to have them. We all have tickets for tonight’s game. You’re always busy so we can consider you joining us as our Christmas gift. ” he replied.

“I don’t know man, I had something to take care of tonight…"

"Damn boy, do you ever take a day off? Either you’re the busiest man in Cali or you REALLY don’t like us” Amber interrupted.

“I just promised a friend some time tonight that’s all"

"That’s why I got you two tickets” Richard pointed out. I really wanted to go, I just had Kate to think about. There’s just no way I’m bringing her and Cindy and I’m definitely not leaving them alone in my house that long. I felt like they were putting me on the spot so I was happy to see mama coming back from the garage with a small box in tow.

“You’re going to love this!” She squealed placing it in my hands. “Open up"

I did as I was told and was more than surprised at what was looking back at me. It was a puppy.

"It’s a bulldog! Now that you’re so busy and I don’t see you as often, I have to make sure there’s a lady in the house, keeping an eye on you” mama smiled while Amber took her and gave her some kisses.

“I’m gonna miss you…let me know if you ever need a sitter” She stated, passing her back to me.

I could tell the ride home was different for Diamond, that’s what I decided to call her. Her eyes just twinkled while she whined the whole way. I prayed she wouldn’t do this all day.

I was pulling back in my driveway with Diamond asleep on my passenger seat and leftovers from Mama’s big breakfast for K when I noticed Ryan’s car pulling up right next to mine.

"Merry Christmas” she called out as she stepped out with a gift bag.

“Merry Christmas. I’m sorry I didn’t realize we were doing the gift thing” I shook my head feeling bad.

“It’s okay we can share this gift” she replied pulling out a bottle of spiked eggnog.

“Can I take a rain check on this one?”

“So basically, you’re going to ditch me on Christmas knowing you’re my only friend?” she asked dramatically.

“Okay fine since you put it like that” I agreed. I figured Kate and Cindy were still asleep anyway and Ryan and I can chill for an hour or so. I grabbed the puppy and she excitedly took her from me.

“Awww, you have a new little baby. What’s his name?” she asked, pulling her close to her chest.

“HER name is Diamond” I corrected her with a smirk.

“Well. I’ll take her, you grab the bottle” she ordered, pushing it in my hand.

When we walked in, it was still as quiet as it was when I left and I couldn’t be more grateful. That is, until Diamond started whining again. She was so loud, you would’ve sworn someone was torturing her.

“She’s probably hungry” I realized, snapping my finger. I ran back to the car for her food and by the time I came back, she had woke Kate.

“What is that noise" she asked, clearly frightened.

“Kate?!” Ryan squealed, pushing me out the way and hugging her.

“Hey girl what are you doing here?” Kate asked, finally recognizing Ryan. “I didn’t know you knew Chris”

“Chris is my only friend these days” she joked. “We were going to have some eggnog; you wanna join? Wait where is your daughter…Sin right?”

“Uh…. how do you two know each other" I asked after getting the puppy settled.

“This is Kiki’s cousin, the one I was telling you about with the crazy baby daddy” she mumbled the last part. ‘How do you guys know each other?

“This is my Kate…I mean my friend I was telling you about”

“Ohh…” Ryan slowly begin to remember and suddenly it was awkward.

“Wow, small world” Kate whistled, breaking the silence and moving past us.

“We were going to watch Home Alone and sip eggnog, come hang with us” I offered with a shrug.

“Maybe after I feed Cindy” she replied, just as the baby began to cry.

“That’s my cue” she continued down the hall.

“Uno! I win!” I yelled dropping my last card on the pile. Just as promised, Kate joined Ryan and me on Home Alone, which led to the Grinch, which led to Uno. We were on our third game, and Kate had won the first two.

“It’s about time I get some competition around here” Kate laughed as I danced and celebrated my win.

“Naw, y'all cheating” Ryan sucked her teeth as she threw her Pile of cards in.

“You’re just mad you suck” I teased, and she rolled her eyes.

“Y'all lucky I have to work tonight, or I’d sit here until I win” she laughed as she stood up, laid Diamond down, and threw her jacket on.

“Well that was embarrassing” K announced when I came back from seeing Ryan out. She looked irritated, and the grin she was wearing a second ago was now replaced with a frown.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“I’m known as ‘Kiki’s cousin’s baby mama’ ” she repeated in Ryan’s English accent.

“Well that’s what happens when you randomly have someone’s baby” I replied and felt bad instantly. I didn’t hear how fucked up it sounded until it came out. She tossed down the cards she had picked up and stormed off without giving me the chance to correct myself.

A couple of hours later she still hadn’t come from the guest room. I felt like I needed to apologize, we were finally comfortable around each other again and I didn’t want to move backwards.

“Kate” I called out easing the door open to her room. I regretted it immediately. She was sitting on the bed with Cindy in her arms breastfeeding. Her breasts were at least two cup sizes bigger then I remember, which caught me by surprise. I didn’t mean to stare, but I couldn’t help but notice the difference.

“I’m sorry, I was just making sure y'all were okay” I stammered as we made eye contact.

“You actually have good timing, I really need that bag right there if you don’t mind passing it to me” she asked, pointing to the other side of the room.

Just as I started towards it my phone rang. I gave her the bag and rushed out of the room grateful for the distraction. I missed the call, but a text came in immediately after.

Tina: Detective Reynolds left a message on the machine… He wants you to come down to the station for some questions.

“They just never give it a rest” I sighed shaking my head.

“Who?” K asked scaring the shit out of me.

“I didn’t know you were standing there” I chuckled. “I’m sorry about earlier I wasn’t intentionally disrespecting you. You know me better than that” I explained.

“Look, I know it was fucked up how everything turned out. If I could take it all back I would” she began to explain.

“We really don’t have to talk about this” I sighed. I wasn’t interested in going down memory lane with the situation. I’d actually prefer to forget it even happened.

“Yes, we do. I need to get this off my chest. Ty wasn’t some random dude. We had been of and on for a few years. Obviously while I was with you, we were off and when you were consumed with Robyn, I was with Ty. That doesn’t change how bad I felt when things turned out the way they did. If I knew there was even a small possibility that Ty could have been Cindy’s dad, I wouldn’t have gone through with having her. I know that sounds fucked up but it’s true. He’s not the type of person I want to be connected to forever.”

“So, you’re saying that you would have had an abortion?” I quizzed, remembering the time Robyn suggested it and Kate flipped shit.

“Yes, only because he’s not equipped to be a parent. The only reason I told him she was his is because I thought him seeing her would be enough to encourage him to be better, especially towards me.”

“K… is he putting his hands on you?” I asked, looking in her eyes for the truth. She nodded as tears filled her eyes.

“He’s always been verbally abusive but since I had Cindy, he’s hit me twice. If I would have known he could be even worse towards me, I wouldn’t have told him about her. I just need a job so I can save enough money to start over somewhere he couldn’t possibly find us.”

“How about I just take care of him?” I asked, feeling a wave of anger boiling in my gut. Yeah, she did some fucked up things, but Kate didn’t deserve to be hit on.

“You can’t” she protested.

“I know people that can get away with it” I pressed.

“Oh, you mean…no, no, no. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing you had him killed!” she exclaimed. “He’s not a bad person, it’s just how he grew up. He had counseling and therapy but when he drinks everything, he learned flies out the window.”

“That’s bullshit and I hope you’re truly done with him. I’ll give you a job, I’m sure Tina can find some use for you. You can have a good amount saved within a couple of months.” I suggested. “But you better not go back to that man. You deserve better”

“Well, would it be too much to ask if I wanted to stay here with you until I’m able to get my own place?” she pleaded.

“I don’t know it was rough when you were pregnant remember?”

“That’s different. My hormones were out of whack” she laughed. “but seriously can you at least think about it?”

“We’ll just take it a day at a time” I decided.

“Thank you so much!” she sighed, giving me a big hug. “Oh, and the other day you said something about losing your son...does that mean Robyn was pregnant?”

“It wouldn’t be from anyone else” I nodded “She lost him in a car accident a couple of days before my birthday.

"Wait we were together at that time...so that's why you were so withdrawn. You were a complete dick to me"

"I'm sorry...It wasn't personal"

"No, I get it now. You were in mourning and I'm sure our situation didn't make it any better." She sympathized.

We spent the rest of the night playing with Diamond and Cindy and I couldn't help but wonder how things would've turned out if Cindy had been mine. Would I still be so in love with Robyn, or could I see myself falling for Kate and being a happy little family? For whatever reason, this is what God wanted. I just had to work on accepting it, so I can move on.

“Chris someone is at the door” K announced, shaking my shoulder repeatedly.

“Okay. I’m, up I’m up” I replied as the knocking continued, louder this time.

When I opened the door, I was face to face with two police officers and the first thing that came to mind was something happened to mama.

“What’s going on officers?” I asked as my heart rate sped up, preparing for bad news.

“Are you Christopher Brown?” The first one asked, flipping his badge out.

"Yes"

“You are under arrest for the murder of Michelle Davis"

"this must be some kind of mistake” I tried to explain but neither of them was hearing it.

“Turn around and put your hands behind your back” the first one ordered. I did as I was told, and he forcefully grabbed my hands and put them in cuffs.

“Chris… what’s going on?” K appeared with Cindy in her arms.

“Call my mom asap and let her know I need her. The phone password is 0220.” I yelled over my shoulder as they pulled me to the police car.

#robyn rihanna fenty #chris brown #ff #fanfic #fanfiction

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loudsuitlover · 6 years

Text

It’s okay to be

Does he know? About the whole thing, you know. About my parents getting a divorce, about me not being the big sister I always tried to, about my brother acting as if nothing ever happened and not seeing my dad in weeks, about my mum using me as a therapist when I have enough on my fucking plate as it is. Does he know? Or does he think about it? Does he wonder? What has happened now? Does he think I’m different?

Because I know I am. I can feel it; in the way I see things, in the way I look at them. I know I have changed and that I’m different now and for that I have realized two things. The first one, people do change. It doesn’t matter what they say in movies, it doesn’t matter that old well-trodden cliche, as if people were just one thing and that’s all they were and nothing will change that; even though everything that surrounds them changes and even though everything moves and nothing stays the same for one minute. One minute things are not the same they were before. And yet people never change they say; but they do, for they are like the water of a river which is always water and yet never quite the same for it moves down the mountain, and you couldn’t touch the exact same water twice even if you tried, all the way down towars the sea where it eventually dies, in a messy, confusing whirlpool that brings food for sea animals so life itself begins again. And the second one, that there are people who try to make you feel guilty because you have changed, who try to make you feel as if changing was a bad thing, like now you’re not the same you used to be and that it isn’t right because you’re not as clueless anymore. Well I don’t care, I don’t give a damn about your idea of cute. That was me then and this is me now and you can either accept that and stay or move on and leave the new me the hell alone.

I think it was all about being in Australia or rather leaving Spain. And when I think about that I’m not so sure I changed but rather I started being me for the first time and so I think yeah, yeah, that makes sense and that would be the reason why it bothers me so furiously when he says he used to like it better before because before wasn’t true and before wasn’t right and this and all the changes, this is what I am, this is who I’ve always been.

And so yes, I like to be alone. Let me rephrase that. I need to be alone, at times, even though I sure like somebody on the kitchen or on the living room while I just sit in my room and paint and not think for a moment and I’m not bothered and I don’t have to care. And I don’t really like going out half the time and now I think it is because for years I’ve been doing it as an obligation, as something I had to do for people to like me, for my mum to be okay, for the rest to think I’m normal or getting some sort of stupid validation. The thing is, well I don’t need your validation anymore. This is what I am, this is who I’ve always been and that’s okay. What’s being normal anyway?

I like talking to those who listen and those who care but it’s saddening to think they’re just none. Sometimes I find some sort of comfort in talking to a stranger and some other times I meet people whom I don’t know but whom I so desperately want to talk to as if it would make me feel better for them to listen, for them to know.

I always fall in love for the wrong guy, man oh man, I always do. If only I got paid each time, I could make a living out of it, longing eyes for somebody who doesn’t even see me. But that’s the thing I think I like, not to be seen, to be irrelevant, (immaterial even) because then I feel free. I feel like nothing really matters, like no one’s watching because no one cares and that gives me freedom. I think loneliness is so similar to freedom anyway.

So I think it all happened in Australia, I think that’s where I changed or rather where I realized that I didn’t have to be anybody else, that that was me and that was okay. I think it was because in Australia there was no expectations, nobody knew me so nobody thought they could say oh yeah that’s so her, or think they understood. Nobody really cared either, did they? But that was good too because each passing day I’m more and more sure that’s how freedom feels like: being able to just be.��

I remember this day, I was sitting on the beach all by myself (when being alone didn’t make me self-conscious anymore) and I was looking at the sea and at the surfers and my hair was a mess, I wasn’t wearing a drop of make up and my jeans were wet and full of sand and I just sit there and thought I’m an artist, I’m an artist. And then I thought well this is the only thing I know for sure, that must mean something. And then well people do change, so have I, but this hasn’t; what I feel about art hasn’t, the way art makes me feel hasn’t.

And what if... What if some things don’t change? What if it’s not about people being able to change but people just simply changing? Not by choice, but by chance, as a consequence of life as a movement, inevitably. That way, the saying wouldn’t be totally untrue, that old thing about people never changing, it wouldn’t be so wrong for people don’t change when they want to, people don’t change what they want to but rather they just simply change and that’s that. Some day they’re different and nobody knows how and nobody knows why but they wake up and they have different fears, they wake up and they don’t feel the same. What if some things don’t change?

I just don’t think one gets to choose to be an artist. One is rather damned to be it and it doesn’t matter how much they change or how many times they think they’re different just as the water on the river moves but doesn’t get to choose its channel.

#original writing #creative wrinting #express yourself #feelings #artist #art #my art #my artwork #my art stuff #artists on tumblr #autodetermination #be yourself #okay to be #expression #artistic expression #express your feelings

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 7 years

Text

Complementary (Collins x OC) Chapter 12: Cheerio

Summary: The inevitable is happening. It's finally time to return to the war.

Tagging: @you-are-the-first-dream

Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter Gif Credit

Cora had refused to come – something about the crowds and the waving of handkerchiefs. It was like Genevieve wanted to go either, but for the unbearable goodbye and not the handkerchiefs.

Although she would not come with them, Cora waved them off by the front door; she looked identical to when Jack and Genevieve first arrived. She had the same hairstyle, the same apron, the same flour smattered on her clothes and cheeks. The only difference was the smile. It did not reach her eyes. There was no sparkle or authenticity behind it.

Jack watched her through the rear window of the cab, waving the whole time. It wouldn’t stop, the tremor in his hand and the only way to hide it was waving. He sat back down properly after the cab rounded the corner, his hands clenched in his lap. Genevieve’s hand slid into his and the tremor ceased with a gentle squeeze.

The pair had yet to exchange details about where they were positioned. In fact they hadn’t spoken about going back at all. When Jack received his summons, he left the kitchen and spent a good hour in his room. Genevieve hadn’t thought to bring it up. They both knew what was going to happen, why keep bringing it up?

As the cab pulled up to the curb, Genevieve left the cab first, waiting for Jack to pay, and then they walked through the packed station. Both lugging their suitcases, they managed to sort out their tickets and get on the platform with some time to spare.

Ten minutes. They had ten minutes until the train left.

“Can…” Jack paused before taking Genevieve by the hand and tugging her to the side, out of view of anyone in the vicinity. Once hidden away, he fumbled in his pockets before retrieving a slip of paper and a pencil.

“Can I write to you?” He asked quietly.

“Absolutely.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Jack struggled with the lack of a solid surface to support his scribbling.

“Is that alright?” He held up the paper and screwed up his face to distinguish the markings. Genevieve stifled a grin as he held the paper right in front of his eyes, the buzzing lamp of the station illuminating it from behind. Noticing her lips biting back a smirk, Jack’s cheeks flared red.

“Promise you’ll write to me?” He pressed the paper into Genevieve’s hand and held it between his own, “Please.”

“I promise,” Genevieve nodded earnestly, already drafting up a version in her head.

Jack smiled - a small, still self-conscious smile. His two dimples appeared in the corners of his mouth as he gave her the paper and pencil. Genevieve squeezed his hand as she took them. Feeling tears spiking in his eyes, Jack pulled her into a hug and hid them in her shoulder.

Genevieve felt choked up as she held him close, “We said no tears.”

“I’m usually a man of my word,” Jack sniffed, “Sorry.”

“I think your integrity won’t take much of a hit from this,” Genevieve adjusted her arms as they clung to each other and restrained their emotions. They pulled away, a pregnant silence falling between them as they studied the features of their friend in fear that they would forget.

“I don’t know what to say,” Genevieve laughed in spite of herself.

Jack picked up his suitcase as he took her hand, “I do: Thank you for saving me, Genevieve Hastings.”

Genevieve squeezed his hands, desperately trying not to cry, “You’re most welcome, Jack Collins. Thank you for saving me.”

“It was my pleasure,” Jack’s head turned as he heard the clamour of soldiers being pushed towards the train. It was time. He forced a smile, wanting to repair the illusion that he was fine.

“Cheerio.”

“Cheerio?” Genevieve said incredulously.

“Yeah, it’s not goodbye, it’s not see you soon, it’s cheerio,” Jack explained with a less-forced smile.

“Pip-pip, old sport,” Genevieve imitated a pompous elitist but her comedy couldn't stop a tear sliding down her cheek. She brushed it away briskly.

“So long, my chum.” Jack paused as Genevieve let out a wheeze – the same as it was on the Moonstone. This was it, his chance to do it. They were so close and he might never see her again. But his body wasn’t moving. He screamed at himself in his head to do something.

A conductor’s whistle blew shrilly and it was too late.

“Good luck with the pie!” He dropped her hand and ran for the train, slipping past the conductor and into the carriage. There was a seat by the window miraculously. Tossing his case into the seat, he pressed himself against the window, scanning the crowds for Genevieve.

There she was, right next to the window, still holding back her tears with a smile. Tugging the top panel open, Jack stuck his arm through the gap and saw Genevieve take his hand. The train started to move and Jack felt it try to pull him away from her grip. In a few metres, she would run out of platform to stand on.

It was a sand timer, running out dangerously fast. There was time for one more thing - one final gesture. Genevieve lifted his hand to her cool lips and pressed a kiss against his knuckles before releasing it.

Jack strained to see her. She stayed the whole time at the edge of the platform, the head of the swarm’s of people left behind, still waving and holding back her tears. Her lips moved and he made out the word “cheerio”. The train chugged around the corner and Genevieve disappeared in the smoke spewed by the funnel.

Taking his hand out of the window, Jack rubbed the feeling back into it. His thumb massaged the spot Genevieve had kissed; regret flooded in his stomach. With his elbows in the table, he gripped his hair and hid his face from everyone as he finally began to cry.

The faint droning of cows in the fields sounded far away to Genevieve, her boots rubbing her feet as they squelched through the mud. She was holding the frayed piece of paper; it was turning to pulp in her hands from the sweat and holding it the whole journey to her current location.

The farmhouse came into view, the thatched roof alight in the setting sun. The paint on the gate was flaking off, the turquoise flecked with the brown wood. It groaned loudly as Genevieve pushed it open. She’d have to oil that later.

Genevieve closed her eyes and focused on remembering Jack’s face. So far, she was doing well at picturing him in her mind but in the future that may not be so easy. Still, the memory of his smile calmed her slightly and she advanced on the front door. Her knuckles didn’t register the knocking against the frame.

In all her maternal glory, Lilly Bradford (nee Hastings) opened the door with a bowl perched on her hip, prepared for her parents return. Her eyes widened as she took in the vision of her dishelved sister.

“Hello, Lilly,” Genevieve said weakly. Lilly dropped her mixing bowl, angel delight and glass splattering over both their clothes.

“Good thing that’s not my nephew,” Genevieve joked weakly, “Though I guess he’s too big to carry now, right?”

Lilly crushed the air out of Genevieve with a hug. Genevieve tensed a little before placing her arms lightly around her sister’s shoulders. Lilly latched onto her, sobbing into her shoulder.

“We weren’t sure when you were coming back! We saw the papers and then you sent a letter without a return address! Where were you?” She blubbered almost incomprehensibly.

“Staying with a friend. I needed some space before I came back.” Genevieve gestured to the inside of the house and tried to go in but Lilly pushed her back with her shrill reply:

“You needed space!” Fortunately, an interruption in the form of a mop of brown hair and a paisley shirt came through.

“Aunty Gem!” James sprinted through the angel delight and collided with Genevieve’s legs.

“Hey, tinker,” She hoisted James into the air, pretending to struggle with his weight before tossing him up and catching him on her hip – so no, he wasn’t too big to carry.

“I swallowed my tooth!” He said proudly to his aunt.

Faking intrigue, Genevieve nodded, “Oh, very nice.” James wriggled out of her arms and pulled her through the broken glass and spoiled pudding into the kitchen. It was completely cluttered with crayons, dirty dishes and ration coupons.

“Mum and Dad are out, they left me in charge,” Lilly explained their absence.

Genevieve nodded, listening for any other occupants of the house, “Where’s William?”

“He’s out with them.”

“Good. I don’t need any distractions right now,” Genevieve stuck her hands under the faucet, creating foamy bubbles between her fingers.

“What are you doing?” Lilly stood beside her. Apparently, cleaning up the smashed bowl and pink foam wasn’t a priority.

“Uh, I need your help, you were always better at this than me,” Genevieve dismissed the question, “I have to run an errand.”

“Why, you just got back? What do you want to make?”

“An apple pie.”

#dunkirk imagine #dunkirk series #collins imagine #collins series #collins x oc #jack lowden #jack lowden imagine #jack lowden series #jack lowden x oc #my writing #r: female #series #complementary

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illuminating-dragons · 7 years

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Fading Scars (12/?): Love In Time

Summary: Some headcanons on the original generation's love stories.

Harry & Ginny

Harry didn’t cry when Ginny told him she’d been accepted to play for the Hollyhead Harpies, so she’d be travelling a lot. He cried three days later, when he offered to break up with her and she held him for hours, promising that she still loved him.

It took years to forgive himself for the year of leaving her, all the uncertainty, all the time he hadn’t been in love with her. It took years for her to forgive herself for not realizing how much needless guilt he carried.

When Harry has bad days, he goes and walks around London for hours and hours, sometimes under the Invisibility Cloak. When he gets home, Ginny makes him tea and nearly smothers him in blankets, even when it’s a hot summer day. She still has that coldness in herself too.

When Ginny has bad days, she can’t stop herself from crying. Harry doesn’t freeze in front of her tears. Instead, he cuddles her on his lap and rubs her back. When they have children, he lets them play in the same room; he was worried at first, but James and Al and Lily just understand that “Mummy’s blue” and they let her calm down and come back to them at her own pace, and then they all play a rousing game of Hide and Seek.

Harry was very unaware of his own body before he dated Ginny. He’d never been all that enthused with sex, never found the need to draw his curtains as often as his roommates had (he would always quietly retreat to the common room if he saw anyone with them closed). He was even less aware of girl’s bodies. Ginny taught him how to enjoy sex, and he learned to, but it’s always been more about giving her pleasure. Their sex is hardly ever serious; they laugh, they’re playful, and sometimes it just settles into cuddles and tickles in the middle. Harry’s also made it clear that he’s okay with Ginny enjoying herself without him, although watching her is one of his favourite activities.

When Harry and Ginny announced their engagement, Molly Weasley whipped up a feast immediately and sent out Patronuses to their entire family. Near the end of the night, Harry came to thank her and Arthur again for giving him permission to ask their daughter to marry him. “It’s like I’m really part of the family now,” he said.

“You’ve been real since I made you fudge for Christmas,” Arthur replied, and that was the end of that conversation.

The week before Harry proposed (though Ginny didn’t know it at the time), Ginny went to Godric’s Hollow alone. It was a beautiful summer day, but nothing could quite erase the sadness of the graveyard. She went over to an old white marble gravestone. There were two newer monuments on either side; one was a tiny dogwood tree with a plaque in front enscribed ‘Snuffles’, and a multicoloured geode on the other, with the initials NT and RL engraved in it.

Ginny took a deep breath. “Alright. I know that you don’t know me Mr. and Mrs. Potter. And Harry and I weren’t together when you were alive, Sirius. And we were broken up for a lot of time Dora…Remus…but I promise I love your kid. He’s brilliant, and he’s amazing, and he’s so good to me. I’m sure you’re really proud of him wherever you are. I promise I’ll take care of him, and I’ll let him take care of me too. I just wanted to tell you before I asked him.” She felt a bit silly. She knew they were gone, that they’d crossed over. They probably couldn’t hear her.

But when she stood, she swore she could smell lilies.

Ron & Hermione

Ron doesn’t write down any notes about their days. Their anniversaries, their big moments, nothing. He’s never been good friends with the written word. Instead he measures them by a special set of hourglasses that pour beads instead of sand, cascading down slowly in their kitchen. He rarely needs them, but they’re pretty, and there’s something truly satisfying about turning them over at the end of a holiday, looking forward to the next.

Ron used to take his bad days out on Hermione. Hermione took out her bad days on Ron. That stopped before they were married. Now they retreat to the garden, working on it the Muggle way, except for the winter plants Luna brought back for them from Tibet. Sometimes they’re together, sometimes it’s just one, but it always ends with tea and Ron’s biscuits at the kitchen table, because that’s where they get the most sun.

Crookshanks, of course, lives with them, but when Hugo is five he begs for a puppy. They have the room, and Crookshanks is the one who chooses a small brown puppy who quickly grows into an enormous dog. Chocolate and Crookshanks become fast friends, and when Chocolate finally reaches her full growth Crookshanks sometimes sleeps on her back.

Sex surprised both of them. For Ron, his only experience was with Lavender, whose passion had been grabby and intense. Hermione had a few quiet moments with Krum, but those were more about holding and being held. When they lie together, it becomes about exploring, finding what works, what doesn’t. They adventure, they explore, they try everything they can. They make love to music, they have sex in the day, and they finally feel comfortable in their own skin and desires.

When Hermione found out she was pregnant, she was worried. Ron had grown up with a Mum who stayed at home, and Hermione respected that. But it wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to keep working, to keep pushing for rights taken for granted by some and desperately needed by others. So she was relieved when the first thing out of Ron’s mouth (after a cry of joy that brought tears to her eyes) was, “do you mind if I start working part-time? I’d like to be home with them.”

So they worked out a schedule; after her year of maternity leave, Hermione walked with the children to daycare for the morning, and Ron picked them up at lunch.

Neville & Hannah

Neville didn’t date much at Hogwarts. He’d had a brief crush on Ginny Weasley, and another on Ernie MacMillan, but they hadn’t lasted. He’d struggled so much with feeling like anyone would like him. Friendless, brainless, helpless, hopless[1]…he wouldn’t date him.

But then the war happened, and things like that didn’t seem to matter. With Dumbledore and Harry gone, and Voldemort breathing down their necks through the Carrows and Snape, Neville had no reason to look in the mirror. He had to take care of things, had to save people, had to keep fighting and hoping and refusing to bow.

And Hannah was there with him, her body bent from curses and grief, her home empty, her eyes haunted. But she was still so kind, so keen to help people stop suffering. She and Neville would stay awake long into the night, supporting the lonely and hurt. Sometimes she would fall asleep with her head in his lap, and he would stroke the tangles out of her hair. Sometimes he would fall asleep on her shoulder, drifting to a quiet lullaby.

When the Battle was done, Neville went to check on Hannah. “Get some sleep, love,” he said.

He hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t realized that it was no longer scary to admit that he cared for her. Somehow he’d discovered that he was, in fact, likeable. And she was loveable.

Hannah smiled back tremulously and took his hand. “I’ll only be able to if you’re there.”

So Neville conjured some cushions in Greenhouse One and they fell asleep together under the Flutterby bushes.

Hannah started working at the Leaky Cauldron on Aberforth Dumbledore’s reference [“the girl made my place feel cheerful, she’ll do brilliantly”]. She loved the pub, loved seeing all the new people, and it helped to pay for her tuition at a Muggle university. She’d gotten her NEWTs, she could have easily gone straight to working as a Healer, but magic wasn’t enough. She wanted to understand the body from a Muggle perspective.

Years later, she would coach Lucy Weasley through Muggle university applications, but for now Neville would sit in on a couple of classes with her and they would have supper at the pub before they went back to their little cottage.

Hannah and Neville take a while to get around to getting married. It’s a little unusual, but neither see the need. It’s not until Freddie Weasley, Neville’s best student, asks if Madam Hannah would like to be married that Neville realizes he should probably ask. Hannah was agreeable, and they had a quiet wedding with their closest friends. His students give them enough plants to start another garden as gifts.

They don’t have children of their own. They’re happy in each other, happy to work side by side whatever they do. But just before Neville’s twenty-fifth year of teaching, they meet a student who goes straight to the Hospital Wing first week of class. They adopt Bailey and his nameless infant sister by the Christmas holidays, and they name the baby Mary Alice.

Luna & Rolf

Luna’s heart was broken long before she was ever old enough to fall in love, and that shapes the way she feels about people leaving. Harry was first pushed to fix the old mirrors when Luna couldn’t travel with Rolf for a month due to a nasty cough, and they used them near constantly.

Rolf’s mother Nadeen was suspicious of the British witch her son had fallen in love with, naturalist or not. Nadeen was married, after all, to New Scamander’s second son, and knew the gossip about him choosing an Egyptian bride. To her relief, her daughter-in-law doesn’t treat her like an exotic creature, and they get along very well, helped along by a mutual adoration of art and of Rolf. Nadeen weaves them a blanket every Christmas, and Luna sends one of her paintings. They don’t talk about religion, but Luna wears a headscarf when she visits, and joins her in meditation. She never converts (and Rolf himself isn’t practicing), but she respects the depth of Nadeen’s faith in a world where magic is allowed but beliefs in a higher power are frowned upon.

Luna knew Rolf was the right one by the way he talked about having kids. He said that children were fascinating, and that he wanted to let the children they had lead how he parented. He even offered to take Polyjuice so he could be the one that experienced pregnancy, but Luna was alright with being pregnant.

Luna developed her way of coping with bad days before she ever met Rolf, so he was a little surprised when she vanished one day without telling him. She returned a few hours later, soaking wet. The next time she goes to dance in the rain, he Apparates with her.

Luna derives a lot of pleasure from sex, but she doesn’t know how to ask for it as often as she wants it. Rolf is the one who learns to speak her language, and to let her know that she’s allowed to have those desires and he’s more than happy to fulfill them.

George & Angelina

Angelina didn’t forget about their kiss all those months of the war. But it wasn’t the right time, and she couldn’t bring herself to be there for George as much as she should have. She regrets that at first, but George finally sets her straight. He didn’t want her there during the war. Knowing she was protecting her family and keeping her head down was all he needed to know.

As much as she loved Quidditch, Angelina doesn’t pursue it the way that Ginny and Oliver did. She thought about being a Healer, but she can’t stand to see people in pain the same way Hannah Abbot can stand it. During the war, she discovers her true passion; childcare. Looking after several Muggleborn refugees at her home translated into a daycare after the war for any children below Hogwarts age. Some of her clients can pay, others can’t, but Angelina adores her work, especially when it lets her spend more time with her own children. She just wishes that George wouldn’t bring so much merchandise when he drops by.

George and Angelina have an understanding with Katie and Oliver Wood. They’re not always open, but there are definitely nights when the four of them end up in bed together. Besides being incredibly hot, it helps to work out some of the frustration left over from the Quidditch field (Oliver can be persuaded to submit), and heals the cracks where someone is missing. They have their own relationship now.

When George and Angelina moved in together, there were no mirrors. Angelina coaxed George into buying one, and by the time Freddie is born there are enough reflective surfaces for the baby to be constantly entertained by the other baby in the mirror. George keeps his hair short though, above his ear, just to be sure.

Percy & Audrey

On his first day at the Ministry after the war, Audrey and Percy bumped into each other at in the elevator. Percy was instantly smitten, to the point that he apologized when Audrey spilled her tea on him.

Audrey is three years older than Percy. She graduated the year before he became a Prefect, and doesn’t know much about him from school. Percy is profoundly grateful for that.

Percy enjoys the bondage portion of BDSM (both ways), but he’s unwilling to inflict or receive pain. Audrey can work with that.

A year after they started dating, Audrey was going through the Department of Magical Law and discovered piles of falsified records of Muggleborns and Order sympathizers. It takes her less than five seconds to recognize Percy’s handwriting from his love letters (one a day on her desk), and five hours to read through each and every one, marvelling at the careful, clever work. Percy had never planned to tell her, and was very surprised when she brought it up. He was even more surprised when she asked him to marry her.

Any ambition beyond being a good person again vanished from Percy’s mind after the war. He still worked as hard as ever, but he went as far as to avoid promotion. Audrey, a halfblood whose mother had been placed in Azkaban for crossing her Death Eater boss, had even more fire in her blood. She worked to climb the ranks, and Percy felt mostly content to stand by and let her.

That was, until she ran for Minister for Magic after Kingsley Shacklebolt retired.

Percy had to gather all his courage to face his quickly rearing insecurities, and he tried to search for why he was so upset. He looked at his daughters, who were both at Hogwarts now, both growing into fine young women who fought to be better than they were.

And that was the problem. In giving up his ambition, he’d stopped fighting to make himself better.

By the time Audrey was elected nearly unanimously, Percy had changed jobs. He was back in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and he had big plans to make sure that his wife’s international alliances were the best they could possibly be. In the years to come, he would champion Lucy’s ideas about technology, consulting with witches and wizards all over the globe to create a committee on magic’s interaction with Muggle systems, and how they could smooth out any ‘bugs’(he really hoped Lucy was joking about the computers being full of creepy crawlies. He couldn’t stand them).

Once he straightened out the filing system. What on earth had they been doing all these years?

Draco & Astoria

While Draco was still doing community service, he was given just enough to live on. Harry helped him out with extra money, and Draco swallowed his pride, thanked him, and bought Astoria jewelry. She loved sparkly things, and didn’t care whether they were imitation or not. Later in their married life, he was able to afford real rubies, diamonds and sapphires, but her favourite necklace was one with sparkly beads he’d given her on their very first real date.

Astoria and Draco are in a Dom/Sub relationship. It’s a good thing that Astoria had plenty of experience as a Dom, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to tell the fine line between Draco’s pleasure-centred masochism and his occasional desire to be punished, to hurt, to cleanse his soul of guilt. She doesn’t let him get away with that after his first subdrop; it’s about pleasure and trust. As far as she’s concerned, absolution doesn’t happen in bed.

Draco was terrified the first time he’d met Astoria’s parents. After all, he was a Death Eater, a Malfoy; her parents must disapprove of him. He continued to be terrified throughout the visit, but not because her parents hated him.

No, it was because Astoria’s parents were stark raving mad.

Her father was a simple kind of mental; he’d named every object in the house, but other than that he was a very pleasant man, and confided in Draco that he’d once been attracted to the Death Eater philosophy. “I couldn’t commit,” he said. “I got out before it was too late, but I was lucky. You can get over it, lad. It doesn’t poison your mind forever.”

Her mother, on the other hand, was a whole other kind. She told outrageous stories that Draco couldn’t help believing, given her level of detail and conviction. When Draco accidentally spilled a few drops of tea on his sleeve, she screamed and tried to call a Healer, worrying that her ‘future son-in-law was going to be scalded for life!’ It took a while to calm her, but Draco couldn’t help feeling pleased about the ‘future son-in-law’ part.

When they left, Astoria squeezed his hand. ‘They liked you.”

“I like them,” Draco replied. He paused. “Were any of your mother’s stories true?”

“A few of them. Trouble is, her memory’s starting to go and we’re not sure which ones are made up anymore. She’s remembering more from when she was young, so the ones when she was a girl are new, but so are the ones from before she met Dad.”

Draco paused for a moment, content to just walk, worried about asking the question.

“You can ask, Drake, it’s okay.”

Draco flushed. “Your mother…”

“She was born a man,” Astoria confirmed. “She went through a potion regime that gave her the ability to bear children. She carried me and my sister. Was it the height?”

“No, it was her throat. She still has a bit of an Adam’s apple.” Draco put his arm around her. “I’m happy they liked me. I was a bit worried.”

“They’d be mad not to. Well, madder.”

Draco looked at her, astonished.

Astoria giggled. “I know they’re not sane, Draco. But they’re not hurting anyone, and they know enough to realize when something is too far. They’ll be fine for now.”

Astoria calls him Drake or Dragon when she’s feeling playful. Draco calls her Tori except when they’re in bed (or he wants to go to bed).

When Draco begins to work in the prison system, Astoria follows him. Her magical architecture background is vital to creating a reasonable blueprint (and for creating temporary prison quarters for the prisoners). She also helps Draco go through the files and try to categorize crimes in a new way, to find patterns of redemption and patterns of complete hopelessness. The work is hard on both of them, but they solve that by joining a Muggle singing group. No one knows or cares who Draco is there, and it turns out he loves to sing.

Bill & Fleur

Fleur knew that Bill was the one when a year had passed and he hadn’t made her Change. Her Veela blood was diluted; she was only a quarter, but it left her with a few instincts. One of them was Changing when a man made her feel insignificant in his life. Fleur never Changed their entire marriage.

Bill is the only Weasley child who actually remembers the first Wizarding War. He remembers his uncles, his father’s best friend Timothy Bones, even meeting Lily Evans Potter once when she was pregnant and looking at a house in the area for her and her husband. He rushed back to England when the Second one started, and it was only Fleur who really saw how scared he was, and how hard he tried to hide it from his siblings, how much he felt like a child again.

Everyone thinks that Bill is the luckiest man on earth because he has a beautiful wife. “Part Veela, hm? Lucky boy!”

Bill does think it’s lucky. He feels lucky that Fleur trusted him with the secret that she was gray-asexual, and that when they do have sex she lets him see how vulnerable she feels, how insecure. He’s grateful for the chance to teach her how much he loves her, how beautiful she truly is, and for the fact she’s willing to bear him children.

Shell Cottage was a safe house during the war, with exhausted, hurt, broken people coming through when they were home (and sometimes when they were out on missions). When the war ends, they buy incense and open every window during a storm, washing out the old hurts and fears, hoping to have a clean place again. They still build new rooms for their children, just in case. They can bear the strain of memory. Their children shouldn’t have to.

Bill understands Lou deeply. He’s okay with using ‘he’, but there are certainly days when he doesn’t quite feel like a male. He buys Muggle women’s clothes, not just dresses, and he and Fleur spend some afternoons playing dress-up.

Dean & Seamus

They weren’t a couple at Hogwarts, no matter what anyone says. Dean was happy when he was with Ginny Weasley and (very briefly) with Michael Corner, and Seamus was coming to terms with being gay. They didn’t become a couple until the day after the Battle, when they took a walk outside the Hogwarts grounds, down the path to Hogsmeade, hand in hand without thinking.

When Dean finds out about his father, three weeks before their wedding, he bursts into tears and immediately tells his mother. The idea that a father he’d hated for so long for leaving had been killed trying to protect his family, that he wasn’t a Muggle but a wizard, sent him reeling. Seamus offered to put off their wedding, but Dean refused. When he walks down the aisle, he goes down arm in arm with his mother, and his father’s watch, broken in the Death Eater attack, firmly in his pocket.

The wizarding world has a mystifying attitude towards gay people. In that no one really cares, but no one really talks about it either. Dean and Seamus have no trouble getting a marriage license, but to their shock they discover that they are still expected by Seamus’ family to acquire a female in order to have kids. Neither of them want kids; instead, they adopt several cats and go to football and Quidditch games together.

Before he starts training Hogwarts’ football teams, Dean works at a Muggle women’s shelter. When he realizes there are no equivalent institutions for wizards, he starts one. It sounds simple, but there are so many more levels to the problem that he needs help. Luckily, Fleur Delacour and Parvati Patil are happy about the prospect, and they help develop it. When he isn’t coaching, Dean spends his time helping witches change their identities, relocate, lobby for more laws about prosecuting abusers (which has Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy’s attention) and teaching the children who ran with their mothers how to draw, and how to protect themselves from bad people. Seamus is very proud of him, and he brings toys to the shelter from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. He also participates in the pickups and drop-offs; he’s learned to control his explosions, and he can channel an Irish temper just as well as his mother.

Dean is an incorrigible romantic when it comes to sex. Seamus lets him get away with it, because the romance does make him feel needed. He still won’t let Dean bring roses home, though. He has to draw the line somewhere, and he really hates that flower.

Dean understands, and brings him carnations instead.

Cho & Chris

The war damn near broke Cho. She gave up on trying to be strong, gave up on being brave. She started to drink and didn’t stop for two straight days. When she woke, to her surprise she was in a room with Viktor Krum. Viktor handed her a Hangover Cure and a Portkey ticket.

“You need some time,” he said.

Cho remembered how much Cedric had liked Viktor. She took the ticket.

She travelled to Florence. Hot and sunny and far away from the Wizarding world, Cho gradually came back to life. She wrote her mother only to tell her yes, she was still alive, learned Italian, and tried gelato from every store in the city until she found her favourite.

She gained ten pounds, and for the first time in her life she didn’t care.

On the other hand, when an adorable Canadian student named Chris let her cut in line at the gelato store (“ladies first, please”; she found out later that was his attitude towards orgasms), she did agree to go on a run with him. They ran up a hill outside the city, and Cho was exhausted when they got to the top, but they watched a beautiful sunset together.

When Chris left, she followed him. They backpacked across Europe together, and when Chris quietly brought up that he wanted to see London, Cho returned with him.

To her shock, Chris wanted to contact an old friend of his. Dean Thomas.

Dean was a second cousin through his Mum. Chris knew about the Wizarding World, and wasn’t surprised at all when Cho revealed she was a witch. “I thought you might be. But you didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t.”

Chris ended up staying in England. He got a visa with the help of the Ministry (Kingsley had an excellent relationship with the Prime Minister), and he and Cho lived in Berkshire. Chris got a job teaching physical education, and when his visa ran out they got married. They spent a lot of time travelling together in the holidays, and Cho ended up starting to film their adventures. Her wand stayed in her pack, but she used it less and less as the years went on.

Cho stays in touch with Harry, and she tells her daughter Tina about Cedric. Chris would have felt jealous, but he knows his wife loves him now. That’s all he really needs. And he knows that she needs to explain to her daughter (and to herself) how those romances changed her, made her, broke her.

Cho was taught that sex was for procreation, nothing more. Chris teaches her otherwise, and they run the gamut of sexual experience before they settle on positions, times, toys and safe words. Their daughter isn’t born until five years after their marriage.

When Tina is little, she has to make a family tree of flags of where she comes from. There isn’t much room for Cho’s Chinese and Welsh flags, Chris’ Canadian, Mi’kmaq[2] and Scottish flags, and finally the England flag, but they do their best.

Cho and Chris compete against each other, running for fun and for prizes. Chris is strong in triathlons; Cho takes a while to learn how to ride a bike properly. But she leaves him in the dust during marathons, including the one she ran four months pregnant.

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lillikat · 6 years

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Dear Pervert – An Open Letter.

*Names will not be mentioned so as to protect the guilty. This letter may contain issues which could trigger those with a past history of sexual abuse or harassment - ie: most women*

Dear Pervert,

So we’ve been acquaintances on Twitter for what must be now 6 years or so. You followed me, and I reciprocated. I remember as I don’t find and follow many over there, only the truly fascinating, which you did not come under.

You whore your watercolour paintings on Twitter, occasionally asking for feedback and often not actually wanting it. Just trying to “engage your audience” I suppose. I gave feedback on works I liked and on aspects that you openly asked for. Very occasionally you replied to me. Nice, but busy and possibly rather self involved was my diagnosis of you from these interactions.

I believe you once sent me a spam message, whining about how you wanted me to promote you or join you on Facebook. I ignored the crap out of that. Perhaps there was more to that message, now I think about the way you treated me yesterday.

Your watercolours are supposedly amongst the best in the UK with your distinct style which you have given a unique name to (yes bitch, I did look you up and did some light internet homework after our interaction yesterday. Some of these details were most unflattering, very eye-opening and brought some light to our interaction). I was happy to retweet on my own terms, as I liked your use of light, perhaps even considered buying one at some point when I actually had money, obviously not now. I wouldn’t want anything your fuckboy hands have been involved in anywhere near me now.

So despite our complete lack of personal interaction, really getting chatting to each other, you decided to push yourself on me yesterday. Not the first, nor shall you be the last to demand my attention by DMing me out of nowhere, relying upon the fact I have manners and humanity, knowing that I would not outright ignore a simple greeting. However, I smelt fuckery straight away. You see a LOT of men seem to think I am here for their amusement, be that sexual or otherwise.

**Look boys, if your mum didn’t breast feed you enough or hug you, that is not my problem. If you want me to be your therapist, I require payment and for you, “Dear Pervert” that price is tripled. **

So regardless of my thinking “oh shit, another man looking for a mother or slut and I can’t be titted being either.” I responded to your ill conceived, terribly spelt attempt at communication. Perhaps I was wrong, after all, you try to sell work through this Twitter account, by DM nevertheless, there’s just no way you’d risk your professional reputation by being a creepy man on this account, would you?

Yet you did exactly that. 7 messages, that’s what it took you. No romance, no wooing, no paying attention to social cues like me telling you I am busy working, hinting (so clearly that a dog would have picked up my not so subtleties) that I wanted to be left alone and had no interest in you whatsoever. You just kept going didn’t you? Did not give one fuck that you might be making me uncomfortable, annoyed and deeply nauseous. No, because your dick was in control. You pathetic sack of crap, you let your base animal instincts override any sense of socially acceptable behaviour that you might have had.

7 messages of me saying I am working and you sending badly spelt trash, bibbling on about how your in bed and so tired. “Go to sleep then you absolute fanny and stop bothering me I have work to do” was what I was thinking but instead I stated “I am working, I have a lot to do so it will be many hours before I can similarly relax like you are doing.”

You piled on ambiguous emojis like a schoolgirl who’s just got their first smartphone. “Here check this shit out” I called to my husband as I stated I thought I had yet another live one on DM. That was on your second message - the third in our entire interaction. Then you witter on about distracting me from work. ”Dear Pervert”, you really should've bowed out but oh no, not you. You felt entitled didn't you? You then had me reaffirm my I AM BUSY statement and then sent me a shot of your erection barely clothed by grotty hospital style pyjamas.

What in the name of anything sacred or sane were you thinking? At no point did I state any interest in your grotty ass. Not one smidgeon. Not one cell of my being asked for your vague innuendo then shot of your erection. Bam! Rank pyjamas and that, in my face.

Thank you, “Dear Pervert”. Thank you for not reading my timeline or taking any blind bit of notice that I am part of the #metoo movement, part of the #SexAbuseChat survivors. Only recently found my voice. Only started to barely grace the depths of my survival and story. Barely trusting, yet finding strength in the shared stories of my sisters of the internet, stronger perhaps than I can ever be, who have managed to out their pain sooner. More succinctly than I.

Do you want to know my first thought “Dear Pervert”? You made me flashback to the time when I was on holiday with my natural father in a Bulgaria. The last time he forced me to share a room with him. You made me recall those 2 weeks in all their glory. Buckle up buttercup, because this is what you had me relive and refeel in all it's hideous detail. Part one. The Flasher. Not my first, by now I am in my early teens. I have faced emotional, physical, psychological and sexual abuse for many years. That was my secret. I became good at keeping secrets. But that’s a whole set of tales for another time, “Dear Pervert”.

Back to the flasher. My second by this point. I am waiting to get breakfast, it’s a raised static trailer, I am short and have to tiptoe to see over the counter edge. I place my order, the man says just a minute and exits. I step back and wait for what must be 5-10 minutes. I am looking at my shoes, bored and bewildered, when out of my peripheral vision I see the cook come back in, with his dick in his hand, masturbating furiously. By now, I know what to do. I am a child and already had faced so much worse. "Reaction, this shitbag wants me to give anything" was my first thought. Now my first flasher I shot down in flames by pointing at his penis and in my loudest, best stage laugh proclaimed if that’s all he had he’d better see a surgeon. This one deserved more and less. I immediately looked down at my watch swore about this guy being a lazy so and so, then walked off in the opposite direction to the nearest busy shop. I was shaking, I thought I was going to pass out or throw up. I walked slowly so he wouldn’t know I saw him, then sped up gradually, afraid this man was going to chase after me.

Part two. Daddy Dearest. I got back to the hotel room I shared with my father, telling him about the incident in full detail, as soon as he arrived. Surely he will do something or know who to tell, was my logic. No, in my natural father’s true style, he decided this would be the perfect occasion to show me his throbbing penis. Again for no reason. We were both reading later, after dinner. Father was in his underpants & t-shirt, which until then never bothered me. He then yelled jovially “hey what do you think of this?” and as I looked over at his bed he whipped down his underwear to reveal my second unwanted erection of the day. Again “Dear Pervert” I cannot underline, that even at this tender age, I was not a person to be reckoned with.

Let me break this down for those who have never experienced true fear. Seconds, feel like hours. Your heart races, you feel giddy, throat goes dry you swallow - it’s sand, you feel the shaking start, the adrenaline has kicked it now you have an eternity in this moment of horror. Sadly, I had lived here before. Many times. Fortunately, I have learned how to construct complex battle plans in those uncomfortable moments. A few seconds was all I needed.

I took one look at my natural father’s erection, raised an eyebrow and told him he should take that shit on children’s TV as a puppet act. Perhaps the broom cupboard on CBBC would take his act? I then went back to reading my book. I knew if I had reacted in any other way, we would have issues. Joke it off, brush it off as just a bit of fun then jam in the fact YOU ARE A CHILD in large letters, in hopes he will see. From that moment on, things between my father and I got worse. The brutal reality I had to face was that my father wanted me. Completely, in every sense of the word. My everything. I had to run. I had to survive, again. This had become my normality. I could never let him know that I had been here before. I knew even then, he would see that information as some sort of gateway for him to start full on abuse mode. I was not about to let that happen.

So to put it succinctly “Dear Pervert” you triggered memories of my father. For that I hate you.

In your scale of thinking it’s nothing, your junk was technically covered. No, no and NO. No means no, by the way. Drinking is not an excuse ever (looks like this excuse might be a habit for you “Dear Pervert”, again you made me look you up).

As for having a bad week, which was the main crux of your excuse. A bad week? Try having a hellish couple of years in which you almost lose every damn thing including your sanity and will to live. I’ve had that and not once sent pics of my flaps to random internet men. I think I might be able to speak on behalf of most women and say none of us would do that shit ever. I mean genitals are not attractive.

You don’t even remotely tickle my turnip “Dear Pervert” so why in god’s name would you think “oooh my barely covered erection is just what this conversation needs”?

You sir are a fuckwit. A massive gaping, diseased one at that. I have spent a day and a half by now (yeah writing this much vitriol takes time, it’s a craft) hating you “Dear Pervert” for the following reasons.

1: You hold a position of power. Lots of followers on Twitter, prolific artist, seemingly professional. I am an artist, just starting out, being sneered at for my style by the likes of bigwigs such as you. That is why I spoke to you on DM, that is why I gave you the time of day. I thought we shared a common passion, that you might be wanting to talk shop or art. You entered into a contract of trust and you pissed all over it. That’s what you’re doing when you randomly seek attention from a woman on the internet by the way. If they give you the time of day back, count your blessings behave like a gentleman and keep your dick where it belongs. Off my DMs and not in my face. You abused your position of power. For shame!

2: Right at the exact time your fuckery started my dog decided to start violently throwing up. Yet I had to take time out to yell at you & report you. So I’m just blaming you for my dog being sick, because I think she saw your pathetic wang and it made her chuck. That’s what I’m telling myself anyway. It pleases me to do so.

3: I have had panic attacks, stomach aches & headaches since, thanks to the constant supply of panic adrenaline that my body seems to use as some form of defence. My heart has been racing, I can’t sleep & can’t eat. So thank you for that trauma.

4: You didn’t even care when I yelled at you and told you that I am not here to be an object of sexual gratification nor amusement to internet randoms, that I was a human with actual real feeligns attached to them. I also informed you that I am married, and again I didn’t want your pervy nonsense. Now every letter is riddled with hidden intent and double entendre. Every character takes on new meaning in light of your behaviour. You gave me eye rolled emoji like a fucking child. You make me sick.

5: I now worry about the safety of other women on the internet. Oh but fear not “Dear Pervert” the whisper network is in effect. I can’t out you here, but I absolutely can tell my loved ones to avoid you like a dose of virulent crabs. They have been told you are not professional and you are not a safe person. I think we can both agree on those very simple facts. My ladies will give you wide berth, they will tell other women who will tell other women who will tell other women. So in short if you’ve done this before (which I have to believe you have & much worse) it will come out eventually. If you really were just showing your dick to me and I was your special first, note if you do this again, the network will get stronger. Why? Because we are looking out for one another in trying times, as only real, actual humans do.

With that “Dear Pervert” I sign off.

Know the pain you have caused me and know you just pushed me to out pain and truth that I have never done before. You broke me, now there might be a landslide of cathartic outings here.

Sisters of the internet! You are not alone, together we are stronger. You there reading this, yes you. You are a Goddess. No you are, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Men, treat every woman as the Goddess she is. After all women have paid homage to your masculinity for aeons. Return the favour.

If we all treat each other as Gods & Goddesses, with the full respect that holds, perhaps there might be less of this infestation of men believing they have privilege over woman’s domain. Because random internet boys, we owe you nothing not one thing, therefore you have no right to demand anything from us ever.

We are not your sex toys.

We have feelings.

Yours Blistering with Rage

#metoo #onlinepervert #abuse #personal

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drashleighreid · 5 years

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If you have the time, do all you haven’t done!

omfg! haha okay holy shit

Alisons: Sexuality?

lesbonym

Amaranth: Pronouns/Gender?

She/her

Amaryllis: birthday?

nov 4th!

Anemone: Favorite flower?

sunflowers and port wine magnolias for their scent and peonies!

Angelonia: Favorite tv show?

id say favorite of recent would be big little lies

Arum-Lily: What’s the farthest you’d go for a stranger?

i don’t know i guess it depends on the situation. i find myself agreeing to do things for strangers for some reason like one time i took an acting workshop and i literally drove three people home afterwards even though they didnt live anywhere near me and i didnt know them at all lkjsf

Aubrieta: Favorite drink?

i dont drink much else but water usually lol. i like cold brew coffee and iced tea too. and lemon ginger tea. alcohol-wise i love gin and tonics, red wine, and old-fashioneds

Baby’s Breath: Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

no but i said that the time before too LMAO

Balsam Fir: Have you ever been in love?

im not sure. i’ve felt really strong feelings for people in the past but i don’t think it’s ever been mutual so i guess not

Baneberries: Favorite song?

god i don’t know if i can do a favorite of all time. i recently played this video game Submerged and it was a really cleansing and wholesome time and I’ve been listening to the orchestral score of that a lot since. any lana del rey song, get free - major lazer hits me in my toner tbh, the jazz standard stardust - there are so many versions i adore idk its too hard to pick ill just end up listing my whole spotify soon i dont really have all time favorites i just go thru waves Basket of Gold: Describe your family.

my mum runs a childcare business, my nan works at a post office, my brother is an IT guy my sister in law is a hairdresser and i have two young nieces who are in 1st and 2nd grade. they all live in my hometown which is kinda far from me. my dad passed away a few years ago but he owned a flower farm. my parents separated when i was in 2nd grade but i spent every holidays with my dad. i have looooooots of cousins lol

Beebalm: do you have a best friend? Who is it?

i dont really do the hierarchy thing ! but i have a few. my friends jess and rach from here are my fave people ever and literally make me cry with laughter when we all hang out and my friend meg who i’ve known since 8th grade is my vegan salad club soul sister and i love her to death

Bellflower: favorite animal

dogs and toucans ! lov birbs

Bergenia: Are you a morning or night person?

night!

Bluemink: What are your thoughts on children?

that i dont understand how i didnt get the maternal gene when my mum literally looks after children for a living slkjsdf. im not opposed to having one someday but not for a while and i think id honestly be content either way

Blazing Stars: What are you afraid of? Is there a reason why?

small spaces/being trapped which i dont know? ive just always had some level of claustrophobia i dont know where it came from

Bugleherb: How would you spend your last day on Earth?

probably stressed LMAO. idk hanging out with loved ones eating good food trying to do a bunch of things i’ve always wanted to do

Buttercup: Relationship Status?

in a committed relationship with a body pillow and my vibrator

Candytufts: When do you feel most loved?

when i can speak openly and be vulnerable comfortably. when people tell me they care about me and value my presence

Canterbury Bells: Do you have any piercings?

2x each ear and one cartilage

California Poppy: Height?

5′6

Cardinal Flower: Do you believe in ghosts?

yes

Carnation: What are you currently wearing?

a cute grey nightgown lol *+*

Catnip: Have you ever slept with a nightlight?

im sure i did when i was younger but now light kind of bothers me when im trying to sleep

Chrysanthemum: who was the last person you kissed?

my friend when we were drunk

Cock’s Comb: favorite font?

i dont think i really have one lol

Columbine: Are you tired?

im kinda like comfy sleepy. its pouring rain and a cool breeze is coming through my window and im really cozy so its just like. nice.

Coneflower: Dream job?

scriptwriter/director

Crane’s-bill: Introvert or extrovert?

im an introvert

Crown Imperial: What’s the farthest you would go for someone you care about?

im fiercely loyal to those i love.

Daffodil: What’s your zodiac sign?

scorpio babeeeeey

Dahlia: Have you done anything worth remembering?

hmm. in what scheme lol. of the world? probably not yet but we’re working on it.

Daisy: What do you feel is your greatest accomplishment?

idk if its an accomplishment but my travels are probably the highlight of my life to me. im kind of always fearless when i travel lol and i love that for me

False Goat’s Beard: What is something you are good at?

i dont know. i like to think im good at talking people through things and being empathetic and giving advice. i try my best to be there for people

Foxgloves: What’s something you’re bad at?

letting things go. not bottling things up.

Freesia: what are three good things that have happened in the past month?

i finished school for the semester ! i started a painting! i saw two cool theatre shows.

Garden Cosmos: How was your day today?

actually pretty good!

Gardenia: Are you happy with where you’re at in your life?

not really but i’m starting to see the potential in the future a lot more. i tend to get really stuck and struggle to see beyond my current situation but i’m trying to look forward and realise that things are going to get a lot better with time

Gladiolus: What is something you hope to do in the next year or two?

direct a short film i’m happy with, write more, travel overseas, cultivate a close group of friends here, go back to singing lessons.

Heliotropium: What helps you calm down when you feel stressed?

watching youtube videos ! jenna and julien and remi cruz are my favorites they just make me feel so positive. listening to podcasts especially my dad wrote a porno because even if im in the worst mood ill literally be sobbing with laughter. listening to music and playing mindless games on my phone! watching movies and tv shows. getting out of the house and going to a cafe/wandering around the mall. going to the movie theatre. reading !

Hellebore: How do you show affection?

i use my words a lot of the time. if i really care about someone i’ll talk to them and be there for them.

Hoary Stock: What are you proudest of?

im proud of my strength and my unwavering knowledge of what i deserve. im proud of my friends and my family and everyone in my life.

Hollyhock: Describe your ideal day?

waking up and taking a dog for a walk having coffee and brunch with a close friend doing something fun like rock climbing or ice skating or going on a hike then going to see a show and going home to watch movies or play video games or play card games

Hyacinth: what do you like to do in your free time?

read, watch movies, exercise, talk to friends, write

Hydrangea: How long have you known your best friend? How did you meet them?

Jess and Rach i met on here like ??? i cant remember when ?? 2012 ?? 2011? then we finally met in person in 2015 and now i swear i see them more often than i see friends i live in the same place as. my best friend from high school i met in 8th grade so 2007??

Irises: Who can you talk to about (almost) everything?

my best friends. my sister in law.

Laceleaf: How many friends do you have?

idk its kinda weird to count lol

Lantanas: What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received?

hmm. this random lady in a mall once told me i can pull off red lipstick better than anyone shes ever seen before shhhhwooooosh. some of the things people have said about my fics literally makes me want to cry. one of my professors last year wrote a really lovely recommendation letter for me and told me i was fucking awesome and was going to do great things.

Larkspur: What do you think of yourself?

She’s Trying. idk i struggle sometimes but at my core im proud of myself and i know my worth

Lavender: What’s your favorite thing about yourself?

My resilience and passion and empathy.

Leather Flower: What’s your least favorite thing about yourself?

that i lose sight of what i want and how to get it. that i shut people out and am sometimes so scarily independent that it tips and turns me lonely.

Lilac: What’s something you liked to do as a child?

visit my nans on the weekend and play video games. go to the beach. read !!! write.

Lily: Who was your best friend when you were a kid?

my best friend had the same name as me and we’d play bratz and she had a pool so it was lit now she lives a few houses down from where my mum lives and has a child and we havent really spoken since like 9th grade lol slfj

Lily of the Incas: What is something you still feel guilty for?

not making it back in time for my dads funeral

Lily of the Nile: What is something you feel guilty for that you shouldn’t feel guilty about?

a lot of the time im self assured enough to not feel guilt over things i know aren’t my fault or situations where im not in the wrong. i never want people to be unhappy or struggle even if they probably dont deserve my sympathy though so i get mixed feelings there.

Marigold: Where did you grow up? Tell us about it?

i grew up on a coastal beach town. a small sleepy lil bay. it’s super pretty and idyllic and gorgeous but living there grew a bit monotonous tbh im not a small town person. visiting is lovely though. my nan literally lived basically on the beach when i was growing up youd just like roll down a hill and be on the sand. i loved it so much

Morning Glory: What was your bedroom like growing up?

i had a few different ones. i usually had purple walls ! and id decorate it with random things i was interested in and had books everywhere

Mugworts: What was it like for you as a teenager? Did you enjoy your teenage years?

i mean not a whole lot LOL high school kinda sucked. i did really well at school and i had some good friends! it wasnt the worst but i was also a closeted gay and didnt know who tf i was so there was some struggles around that.

Norwegian Angelica: Tell us about your mom?

shes generous and selfless and kind. she’s had a bit of a rough life but she’s strong.

Onions: Tell about your dad

i love that this q is ‘onions’ mood. our relationship was ,,, turbulent. i have some really great memories with him and visiting was honestly good a lot of the time when i was growing up! we’d play pool and id help them with the flowers and we’d go out boating and swimming and bowling and do lots of fun stuff but he was also an alcoholic and gradually got worse as i got older and he was really intimidating and could be really hot and cold and had really unrealistic expectations.

Orchid: Tell about your grandparents

i was really close with my grandmother on my dads side she gave me my passion for reading and writing !! when i was really young i would sit in her lap and she would read me stories and then when i got older i started reading the stories to her we were super close she passed away when i was in 6th grade and it was really sad i loved her. my grandpa on my mums side taught me how to play pool !! he used to run the pool club where i’d compete and he was just a nice guy he passed away a few years ago. and my nan on my mums side is an icon i love hanging out with her i grew up spending almost every weekend at her house playing video games she always has all the newest consoles and video games for all of her grandchildren lol we go for walks on the beach and shes awesome one time she came to pick me up from school blasting low by flo rida we stan

Pansy: What was your most memorable birthday? What made it be so memorable?

hmm my 16th maybe ! that was when i was in the US and i remember having cheer practice and my host mom brought cake in and it was just really nice. idk why my 10th birthday is so memorable to me but i had a lit bday party and i remember so much about it lol?

Peony: What was your first job?

i was a barista!

Petunia: If you’re in a relationship, how did you meet your partner(s)? If you’re not in a relationship, how did you meet your crush/how do you hope to meet your future partner(s), if you want any?

i dont know if i have an idea on how i hope to meet my future partner its not something i plan or have a preference for. ive met most of my closest friends online and w being gay *+* lol itll prob be through online im guessing.

Pincushion: How do you deal with pain?

physically? poorly LOL im such a baby if im in pain in any way.

Pink: where is home?

idk. i dont know if i have one just yet tbh. we’ll find it !

Plantain Lilies: If you could go back in time, whats is one thing you would stop/change?

hmm i try to live without ragrets. there are a few situations id like to go into either wiser or not at all though if im being hoe nest.

Prairie Gentian: Who is someone you look up to? Describe them.

hmm. there are a few actresses/celebs i look up to ! all these qs are turning my brain into goo LMAO i cant think

Rhododendron: What is something you used to believe in as a child?

i heard once that someone related to my great grandfather had some kind of connection to french royalty ?? idk how true that was but i was waiting for my princess diaries moment for a while there

Ricinus: who’s the most important in your life?

me bitch

Rose: What’s your favorite sound?

rain/thunder

Snapdragon: At this moment, what do you want?

to read fic until im too sleepy to keep my eyes open then drift off *+*

St. John’s Wort: Is it easy or difficult for you to express how you feel about things?

depends on the situation. i wouldn’t say easy but i can speak and explain myself well because I spend soo much time thinking about things lol

Sunflower: What is something you don’t want to imagine life without?

my mum

Sweet Pea: How much sleep did you get last night?

like 9 hrs lol

Tickseed: What’s your main reason to get up every morning?

coffee

Touch-me-not: how do you feel about your current job?

that i need one

Transvaal Daisy: What’s your favorite item of clothing?

black jeans

Vervain: What’s stressing you out most right now?

this and that. packing to go away

Wisteria: How many books have you read in the past few months? what were they called?

lol none really. i read a few at the beginning of the year but nothing lately. ive read innumerable fic tho does that count

Wolf’s Bane: Where do you want to be in life this time next year?

happier ! growing ! loved. i want to feel accomplished with what i created during the school year, fulfilled. surrounded by people with pure intentions. hopefully just overseas somewhere

Yarrow: Do you know what vore is?

whY is this a question ???????????????????

Zinnia: Give a random fact about yourself

i used to be a fitness instructor

okay that was a lot more questions than i thought it was LMAO fuck

thank you for the entertainment that was fun ! xx

#omfg im dead i didnt think there were that many #long post #read more #Anonymous

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