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babydollmarauders · 1 year

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BABE — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

pt 2

summary: in which y/n’s biggest fear comes true, and she tries to work past it but inevitably can’t.

notes: this is all angst. if you’re wanting a redeeming and loving Jack then you will not find him in this, but i do have other fics like that.

warnings: cheating, arguments

useless notes: another Taylor Swift inspired fic. are we surprised? probably not. should i be working on the next part of the Midnights Fic List? maybe. but instead i just spent three hours writing whatever this is

i stare at my phone screen, no longer able to make out the photo but that doesn’t matter because it’s seared into my brain now. i close my eyes, letting tears roll down my cheeks, but all i can see is that photo. Jack, his hands on another girls waist and her lips on his neck.

i feared this day would come, i just hoped it never would. and i can’t help but put some blame on myself. was i not good enough? should i have come with him on the roadie? i know he’s said before that i shouldn’t feel pressured to go, but i know so many other WAGS do. maybe if i had taken the time off from work to come then this wouldn’t have happened. but i didn’t do that. and now here i sit, at home in our apartment, while he’s in Texas, probably peacefully sleeping by now, next to another girl.

when i had first opened up to Jack about my insecurities and my fears, about my past with men who previously cheated on me and strung me along because i was so forgiving, he had promised me this would never happen. told me i was the only one he ever wanted and that if he ever felt like he wanted to be with someone else, he would have the decency to break up with me first and not string me along. but here we are.

this photo wasn’t what i was expecting to see when i decided to open twitter. i was expecting lots of celebratory tweets after the Devils win against the Stars, but then this picture was the first thing that popped up on my timeline. the user speculating that Jack and i broke up. we didn’t.

i finally open my eyes again, my vision clearer now that the tears have spilled over, i run my thumb over the screen, scrolling through my feed.

—

@HUGHESLVR86: i see everyone on here sharing the photo from that girls insta story and speculating that Jack and y/n broke up but… have y’all thought about the possibility that maybe they didn’t? i know we all want to believe that Jack would never cheat but maybe we don’t know him.

- liked by @y/nontwt

@HUGHESISKARMA: guys, both y/n AND jack still have their pics together up on insta. leading me to believe that maybe they’re still together. in which case i feel for her right now. stop spreading that photo.

- liked by @y/nontwt

—

my scrolling is stopped by an incoming text from Jack’s brother.

—

FROM: Huggy 🧸

y/n, i’m sorry. i don’t know what he was thinking, if he was even thinking at all. please call me if you need someone to talk to. i’m here for you. even after you guys break up, you’ll still be my little sister.

—

Quinn’s sweet text only brings me more tears. not from his kind words, but from the fact that he thinks we’ll break up. because i know myself, and i know that if Jack comes home tomorrow apologizing and promising to never do it again, i won’t be able to get the courage to leave him. and i wonder what everyone will think of me. this isn’t like in the past. he’s in the limelight, everyone will know.

i fall asleep on the couch, crying and hoping that when i wake up, this will all have been a dream.

i wake up to the sound of the front door shutting and a heavy thud hitting the floor. and for a second, i’m excited to see my boyfriend. but then i remember why i’m on the couch. why my eyes are sore. it wasn’t just another night of falling asleep watching netflix. he cheated on me.

Jack’s footsteps halt at the living room entrance, and i look up to see him watching me. and when he sees my red puffy eyes and tear stains on my face, i know he knows that i know. his eyes are full of regret, that much i can see. he slowly makes his way over to the couch, gauging my reaction, and sits down on the other side, away from me. more tears build up in my eyes and i let them slowly roll down my cheeks, washing away the old tear tracks and leaving new ones in their place.

“you promised.” my voice is barely above a whisper, but it still cracks.

“i know. i’m so sorry, baby. i am. i don’t know why i did it. i was drunk and she came up to me and i just— there’s no excuse.” he shakes his head before placing it in his hands, his elbows resting against his knees. “i’m so sorry, baby. i didn’t mean for it to happen. and it won’t happen again. i swear. it was a mistake, and i- i- i swear on my life. it won’t happen again.”

i manage a weak nod. proving myself right from last night. i can’t leave. what is wrong with me? why can’t i leave? why can’t i just accept that he did it once and he’ll more than likely do it again, so i should get out of the relationship before he breaks me even more?

“okay.” i whisper. “i believe you.”

he looks up at me with bloodshot eyes and a hopeful face.

“you’re not leaving?” he asks.

“no. i’m not leaving, Jack.” i tell him. “i love you. and if you tell me it was a mistake and it won’t happen again, then i believe you.”

he moves to the cushion beside me, taking my face in his hands and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“i promise. i swear it. it won’t happen again.”

“okay.”

as i predicted, everyone knows. it’s been three weeks since Jack came home and confessed, and last night he took me on a date. i posted some pictures from last night on insta, and the comments have been all about what happened three weeks ago.

—

@y/noninsta just posted

Liked by @trevorzegras and 23,482 others

@y/noninsta: i’m a lucky lucky girl 🤍🪐

Load more comments

@user1: oh, she’s still with him??

@jackhughes: I love you babygirl

@y/noninsta: i love you to the moon & to saturn

@trevorzegras: cringe 🤮

@y/noninsta: your face is cringe

@user2: idk how she can stay with him after that photo

@user3: fr! i would’ve been out of there so quick

@_quinnhughes: that second pic was a jump scare. you put his ugly mug on here but not your pretty face sis?

@y/noninsta: this is why you’re my favorite hughes brother

@lhughes_06: @y/noninsta what am i?! chopped liver?! i at least deserve to be ranked higher than Jack

@_quinnhughes: @lhughes_06 bro wtf

@user4: wow, kinda just lost a little respect for her ngl

—

my eyes well with tears and i take a loaded breath. my heart burns, and when i close my eyes, it’s the same way it’s been the past three weeks. all i can see is that stupid picture. i thought i could do this, but it hurts differently than in the past. in the past, i was able to move past it until it happened again, but this time, my heart hasn’t stopped hurting. every time i look at him, my heart breaks all over again remembering that he was with another girl.

i set my phone down on the couch beside me, and stare at the wall. i know what i have to do, but i don’t know if i can.

“hey babe, i’m heading out with the guys.” Jack walks into the living room, slipping his jacket on. but when he sees me, he freezes. “hey, what’s wrong?”

“i can’t do this.” my voice cracks, and now that i’ve finally said it, i feel a weight lifted off my chest.

“what?” Jack comes to stand in front of me. “c’mon don’t say that.”

“no. Jack, i really- i really can’t do this.” i tell him.

“i thought we worked past this? i thought you said it was okay. i told you, it was a mistake.” he crouches down in front of me to look at my face, and the walls i’ve built to hold myself up finally come crashing down. i look at his face and all i can think of is that picture.

“i know but, ever since you admitted it, i keep picturing her lips on your neck. i can’t unsee it, Jack.” i stand on shaky legs and he rises in tandem. “i hate that because of you, i can’t love you. not like i used to. because if we keep doing this— this thing, then i’m just gonna continue to worry even more than before. every time you leave, i’m gonna wonder if you’re out there sleeping with another girl. again.”

“that’s not fair.” he shakes his head.

“you’re right. it’s not.” i admit. “which is why i need to leave, Jack. i really hope you can understand that. it’s not fair on me. to constantly have to wonder who you’re with. or what you’re doing. and i can’t take that. i can’t trust you anymore, Jack.”

“so you can come on roadies with me until you trust me again.” he suggests, and the thought just makes me even more upset.

“i can’t just drop everything to go on the road with you multiple times a month! i have a job, Jack.” i tell him.

“so quit your job. i make plenty to take care of us.”

“you want me to quit the job, that i’ve worked so hard to get, so i can come on the road and babysit you to make sure you don’t cheat on me again?” i ask. “which will provide me with nothing to fall back on when you do inevitably do something again, and i actually decide to leave.”

“but i’m not gonna do anything!” he defends.

“yeah, that’s what you’ve been telling me for the last two years and look how that turned out.”

“yeah, and i didn’t do anything for two years! you can’t cut me some slack?” he argues and i put my hands together in a slow clap.

“you’re right, Jack. you waited two years to cheat on me. do you want a medal? a trophy?” i say. “yes, you didn’t do it for two years, but you still did it eventually. after you promised me you never would. you broke your promise.”

“so you’re just gonna throw this all away over a mistake?” he asks.

“i’m not the one who’s throwing this away. you did when you decided to get with another girl. in public. i’m just making sure i don’t get hurt again.” i tell him. i make my way to our bedroom, Jack following behind me.

“y/n, i’m sorry. okay? i’m sorry! i made a mistake. i told you it won’t happen again.” i ignore him, pulling my suitcase from under our bed and start randomly throwing clothes and an assortment of my things inside of it. “babe, let’s talk about this. c’mon. yes, okay, i slept with another girl. yes, i was caught. but if you didn’t know, wouldn’t that have been worse?”

his words make me freeze, and a sinking feeling settles in my gut. i turn to him.

“caught? Jack, is this the first time you’ve cheated on me?” he avoids eye contact and i swallow a lump in my throat. “Jack. tell me.”

“no.” it feels like my heart has shattered in my chest. the fragments getting caught in my lungs as i struggle to breathe. when i finally let out a shaky breath, it turns into a sob and i collapse to my knees in front of our bed.

this entire time he’s had me fooled. playing the role of doting boyfriend. when instead he was going behind my back. i don’t even know how many times, but it proves he was lying when he said it was a mistake.

i feel Jack’s hands settle on my back, trying to rub it and soothe me but i push them off and collect myself. i continue rushing around the room, packing my bag faster than before. zipping it up, i pull it off the bed and walk out of the room again, Jack trailing behind me once more.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he tells me, when i stop at the front door, slipping my shoes on. i grab my keys from the dish by the door and unclip the house key, setting it on the table.

“yeah, i am too.” i tell him, opening the door. “bye, Jack.”

i step out, shutting the door behind me, my tears blurring my vision as i head out of the apartment complex and to my car. i’m able to place my suitcase in my trunk and slip into the drivers seat before i breakdown again.

i don’t even know where to go. Jack was the only person i had here.

i pull out my phone, typing up a text to my boss and telling her there’s been an emergency and i’ll be using my built up two months of paid time off, before scrolling in my contacts and typing on the name of the only person i can think of right now. i put the phone up to my ear, listening to it ring for a few minutes before they pick up.

“hello?”

“Quinn.” i don’t manage to get another word out before i let out another sob.

“i’m booking you a plane ticket right now. it’s okay, y/n/n. it’ll be okay.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #nj devils #faithlynn’s writings <3 #babydollmarauders

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meadowscarlet · 2 years

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cinnamon girl ━━━ kaz brekker.

pairings: kaz brekker x fem!reader.

summary: everyone had their own dark history that formed them into a foreboding person, and kaz was no exception; he had his fair share of demons, but he was itching to discover about yours and why you loathe the feeling of touch as much as he did but seek solace from him.

warnings: mentions of abuse and brief spoilers of kaz's backstory.

author’s note: i know i said i won't repost my old fics but i'm currently in a writing block and can't post anything so have this plus i missed kaz. do not copy, post on another site, translate or claim any of my works as your own or you will be reported! nav.

Ketterdam is not a pleasant and welcoming city. In the filthy, morally repugnant, and dangerous place, battered and wounded individuals on the verge of death, criminals, thieves, and sinners were discovered. The city had corrupted the people with its savagery, where compassion and benevolence are seen as vulnerabilities, and it was irredeemable, tainting the citizens with the city's unrighteousness.

The Crows were no exception. They were also impacted by the darkness that Ketterdam had plagued them with; regardless of how young they were, whether a girl or a boy, they would be painted with the city's malice. Everyone had their own demons, something dreadful had occurred to them—it didn't matter what it was, for the demons and the city had shaped them into a person with a dark heart and a desire for cruelty.

Kaz had personal knowledge with this. He had been altered, like so many others, by the vile city's relentless brutality. With his sinister demeanor, or his lethal cane, where he might break a leg, or change a man's fortune, he was known as Dirtyhands. People feared him, and some had always wondered what had happened to Kaz Brekker to make him so merciless.

Of course, everything remained a mystery since no one dared to cross Kaz, including the Crows who were usually with him. They didn't want to meet death by Brekker's gloved hands just yet, even though they were plainly intrigued about the cunning yet deadly thief. The tragedy that transformed Kaz into the person he is today remained hidden, and others speculated that the city had done nothing to him and that he was born wicked.

They were not corrected by Kaz.

Matthias refers to him as demjin, which means demon in Fjerdan. It didn't bother Kaz; they could call him whatever they wanted; at the very least, they'd know he wasn't someone to tamper with. After all, he had a reputation to uphold, and if people feared him, then so be it. Kaz enjoyed the feeling of authority and domination among fools, and he relished seeing people's terror whenever he was near.

He was certain that he was born with a terribly malevolent nature. That perhaps the shadows had been there all along, seething inside only to become stronger when the feeling of vengeance overwhelmed him after a life full of treachery and violence, after Jordie's death and everything else that had made Kaz miserable before. He had his own darkness, but it was at odds with yours.

How did you wind up with him and the Crows in Ketterdam?

Kaz remembered the day he first met you as if it had been scorched into his mind. Your hair was escaping out of its hair tie, framing your face in a frenetic and wild yet compelling way. You appeared to be running, your movements swift and efficient; you seemed to be young, similar to Kaz's age, yet there was still a youthful simplicity in you, one that he had lost a long time ago, buried in the waters and deepest depths of it.

He might have gone about his business; after all, the last thing on his mind was a girl, agitated and wounded amidst the city of Ketterdam's well-known lack of morality. To Kaz, it's a common sight, one that would even amuse him, but when he first saw you, there was something unusual about you. He didn't feel sorry for you but you seemed to be a fresh face, and Kaz Brekker must know everyone in the city. He needed to keep a watchful eye on everyone, especially any potential enemies.

On a dreary night in Ketterdam, where Kaz could hear the same rattling noises and smell the foul stench of blood and sins outside, he focused instead on the kruge on his table. He was counting everything carefully and silently, and when he heard the familiar faint footsteps, he didn't stop. Kaz didn't look up at the person, instead continuing to stare at the kruge as if it were about to vanish from his grasp.

After a brief pause, he finally looked up.

He wasn't surprised to see her. “Hello, Inej.”

Inej approached Kaz, who was standing behind the table, and gave him a distinctive nod as he looked down and arranged the kruge on the table. Her movements were light and stealthy, like the Wraith she was and Kaz suspected she had something to tell him. Inej only came to his office when she had something important to tell Kaz.

“I’m hoping you're not here to waste my time,” Kaz remarked, his voice flat and uninterested as usual. “Any valuable information?”

“It's about the girl,” Inej started.

Kaz made a gesture of paying attention to her, but he was still gazing down at his money. “Girl?”

He could hear Inej's footsteps getting closer until she was directly across from him. “The one you said I should look into to find out who she is.”

For the first time since Inej went to his office, Kaz looked up with a gleam of pure interest in his dark eyes. “I'm listening.”

“She's a fresh face in the city—I once followed her on her way and discovered she lived near an elderly couple's bakery. She is new here in Ketterdam, and I hadn't heard about her until you told me to keep an eye on her,” Inej stated passively. “But, she is skillful. She was in a frenzy as she realized I was following her, so she became alarmed and attacked me.”

Kaz became increasingly intrigued. “Tell me you didn't kill her.”

Inej's dark eyes were frowning, but behind her mask and the darkness, Kaz couldn't see her entire face. “I didn't and I wouldn't,” she said bluntly, as if the answer was self-evident. “She's brilliant, and despite being new to Ketterdam, she's already proven her potential.”

“What is her name?”

“Y/N L/N.” Inej replied. “Why the sudden interest in her?”

“Always be cautious of new people; they are unaccustomed with the ambience of Ketterdam, and it is wiser to get to know them before they identify themselves,” Kaz counseled. “She may be destructive, but based on what you said, she's entirely harmless.”

Inej shook her head, disbelieving. “Did the word ‘skillful’ escape your notice?”

Kaz wore a vacant smile. “I heard you just fine.”

“Kaz,” she said, her voice warning. “What are your intentions with her?”

“I won't kill her, if that's what you're wondering.”

Inej's eyes glowed with understanding, and Kaz battled the impulse to roll his eyes; why did it take her so long to realize?

Inej remarked, “You're recruiting her in the Dregs.”

Kaz only wore a pleased expression.

You had adjusted well once you were recruited in the Dregs. Kaz remembered how, to his astonishment, a gun greeted his temple when he walked inside a small, cluttered space that he knows you call home. He followed Inej's directions, and your small abode was definitely close to the bakery run by an elderly couple. He could still remember the smell of the lingering pastries even in the middle of a wretched place you called home.

Kaz could see the survival instinct you implemented in your small home where there was collected foods, knives placed on the couch, and a blanket applied as a cover for the windows, and he observed his fascination with your cautiousness. You only let go of the gun after he assured you that he meant no harm and that he had a proposition for you.

That's how it all began. When Inej indicated you were competent, she was right. With the jobs Kaz had given you, you were swift and clever, as well as flawless. Perhaps your accomplishments were a way of repaying Kaz for providing you with a secure place to sleep and have a modest shelter. Not only that, but you'd formed close friendships with the Barrel's employees, particularly the Crows.

You were particularly fond of Inej. The one-time attack and brief fight against one another became a laughing memory as you both reminisced about it whenever you had the opportunity. There was no scorching animosity between you two, and you became inseparable as the days passed. Kaz remembered you blabbering your apologies to Inej after stabbing her in the leg when you realized she was following you. Inej could only chuckle heartily.

Matthias seemed to like you, much to Kaz's great shock, and he could see how you both chatted and spoke about things after each heist. Nina had mentioned that it was mundane at job when it was just her and Inej as the girls, and you were a wonderful addition. She had been pushing Kaz to make you a Crow for a while, but Kaz thought you weren't ready. You were only needed on occasion, not every time they pulled off a job.

You bonded well with Wylan as well, but Kaz sensed your apprehension towards Jesper. Kaz was initially perplexed; Jesper was a naturally cheerful person, and everyone seemed to enjoy his company. Not that you dreaded it, rather Kaz could always recall your laughter whenever Jesper cracked a joke—a laugh he grew terribly fond of.

Jesper, on the other hand, is far too friendly, and Kaz would be lying if he said he didn't notice the dread expression on your face whenever someone came close to you or when Jesper put his elbow on your shoulder.

Kaz began to observe you more intently after seeing that, as if he hadn't already. He believed he had made the right decision in recruiting you. You were special, enthusiastic, and the light of the Barrel. Kaz didn't think you'd fit in well with the city's grim environment at first, and he didn't want you to get further corrupted by the violence.

But Kaz had entirely overlooked and dismissed what had transpired to you and how you had landed up in Ketterdam.

Every day, Kaz's inexplicable fondness for you grew stronger. You and Kaz have a contentious relationship; unlike the rest of the Crows, you didn't necessarily converse and blabber to him, nor did you laugh and tease with him like you did with Inej and Jesper, but there was a wordless distinctive connection between you and Kaz.

Your patience and presence were the attributes he admired the most in you. Kaz wasn't easy to talk to or even tolerate—he's closed off and harsh—but whatever nonsense Saints Inej believed in seemed to bring you to Ketterdam to soften his roughness. In his world of darkness, Kaz didn't believe in miracles or light, but you were there, proving that there is still some good in the world.

Kaz had intended to fire you at that time.

He had questioned Inej about your misfortune and how you ended up in Ketterdam. Inej only shook her head and mumbled something about your past being none of her business. You were shut off as well, but unlike Kaz, you shine with gentleness and radiance, masking whatever darkness you may have. Matthias would grumble under his breath whenever you greeted Kaz in the morning with a big smile.

Matthias had once growled, “The demjin doesn't deserve such pleasant smiles.”

You only shook your head, as delicate and gentle as you were. “Even if it's seldom or undeserved, everyone deserves a little bit of decency.”

That's when Kaz realized you were mistaken. He didn't deserve such remedy from you—you and him had a routine where you'd read a book in his office or simply admire the moon and stars at night, the moonlight shining in your face and making you look stunning. There was no talking, just stillness. Kaz was always busy making plans and would occasionally glance at you.

Your very presence made him feel calmer, and whenever you came to visit his office, which had previously been dark, was replaced with a strange sense of peace. Kaz was hesitant to make you a Crow for a reason, selfish if it was. He didn't want to expose you completely to his enemies, risking you being wounded or worse, killed. He knows you're talented and all, but he let his vanity get the best of him, and to his horror, his worry.

He valued your tranquility, but he also sought your voice—he wanted you to talk excitedly about anything, and if your silence had soothed him, what more could your voice possibly have done? But maybe it was all one-sided, and you're only there with Kaz because you owe him courtesy, and maybe you've never liked him, and you're just doing this benevolence to him to act with integrity.

Kaz wouldn't blame you.

Kaz despised weakness, and he knew he couldn't just have you rot in the streets, no matter how he felt—and he questioned why he was feeling anything at all. He was ruthless, but he didn't want to hurt someone who had been nothing but pleasant and selfless. He didn't want to take away your friendship or the comfort you found in the Barrel.

He did not want you to go.

Kaz was disturbed by the thought.

Everyone was fast asleep, exhausted from the job they had just completed, so they chatted and ate waffles—Nina's suggestion—to calm their anxieties before retiring to their various rooms. Only the Crows were required for the job, and Kaz had assumed you were probably sleeping in your room as he lingered at the table with Jesper, who was elated from the successful completion of the job.

To Kaz's relief, Jesper yawned and stood up, but before walking away, he stopped and beamed even brighter and exclaimed, “Y/N!”

Kaz took a look around and spotted you. You approached them with a relieved expression on your face, a book in your hand, and no indication of drowsiness on your face. You gave a small smile as you met Kaz's gaze, which had not left yours, and then turned to face Jesper.

Jesper shifted his gaze between you and Kaz, then back to you, and Kaz swore he glimpsed a smirk on the Zemeni's face. “I'll talk to you tomorrow, gorgeous,” he says, “I’m exhausted, goodnight.”

Kaz watched Jesper approaching you and saw him about to hug you before deciding against it and giving you a wink before passing you by. It made Kaz frown.

“Aren't you tired?” you began as you sat across from him, helping yourself to the last waffles.

Kaz noticed this was the start of a conversation—he expected you to be silent as you eat and enjoy each other's company, but you spoke to him, and to his chagrin, a tightrope in his stomach loosened and made him feel relaxed.

“Why aren't you asleep yet?”

Your eyes squinted when the topic shifted, but you shrugged it off. “I wasn't tired.”

“That makes it the both of us.”

Kaz sat back and enjoyed your chuckle. The sounds it made were like a stack of kruge tumbling from his table. He was trying to memorize the cadence of your laugh. He shook his head, hating the thoughts that overwhelm him, but he couldn't help himself—it was only you and him, in the middle of the night, and there was no silence.

“No one got hurt?” you muttered as you bit into your waffle.

“We're fine,” Kaz said, pleased as he saw your eyes brighten. “The job was successful.”

Kaz has a keen ability to read people and can tell you were worried, which could explain why you weren't asleep. You had been waiting for their arrival. Or maybe it was just the other Crows and not him and Kaz didn't realize he was staring until you said spoke.

“I know questions are etched on your face,” you said. implying that he wasn't the only one who can easily read people. “What is it, Kaz?”

He was taking a risk, but he couldn't help but ask the question that had been nagging him since the first time he saw you. “How did you end up in Ketterdam?”

You remained silent for a moment, staring down at your waffle, before speaking softly enough for Kaz to mistake it for a faint hum. “I… wanted a way out.”

He almost laughed. “What could be worse than Ketterdam?”

You raised your eyes to Kaz, your expression solemn, the brightness that had warmed him faded. “Believe it or not, Ketterdam has seemed like home to me. It's the closest thing I've ever felt to refuge here, despite the fact that it's brutal. It was the first time I felt secure.”

The first time? Kaz thought.

“The people, too,” you continued, “Inej, Nina, Jesper, Matthias, Wylan. And… you Kaz.”

“What happened to you, Y/N?” Kaz struggled to hide his uneasiness in his tone. “Has anyone ever treated you with such safety and tranquility?”

“No,” you said softly and unsteadily. “You were the first who ever did.”

Kaz noticed tears threatening to spill from your eyes and decided he couldn't bear you being so vulnerable—it wasn't like you. “Talk to me, L/N.”

“When my mother left when I was six, my father became sorrowful, unhappy, and enraged, and he let all of his aggression out on me,” you explained, your voice strained. “He does things to me that no parent should ever do to their child.”

Kaz was filled with a searing and inexplicable rage. But he kept his cool by clutching his cane tightly in his hands, as if striving to maintain composure. He listened intently as you spoke, satisfied that you had put your trust in him to speak about something that had been a lingering memory. He observed you playing with your hands at the table, the waffle long forgotten.

His voice was like a promise of violence. “Why?”

You shrugged, a small, pained smile on your face. “People end up doing things they don't want to do, but sometimes they can't do anything to stop it. My father had no one else to release his frustrations on, so he did it to me, and after that, he'd apologize and hug me while crying.”

Kaz felt compelled to say something to you since you had put your trust in him, and it was only fair that he reciprocated it. “I had never been treated with kindness and tenderness by anyone. You were also the first one who did.”

“I owe you, Kaz.”

“You owe me nothing,” Kaz immediately responded.

“You saved my life,” you said.

Kaz locked his gaze on you, seeking to grasp the details of whatever it was he was enamored of. “I'd do it all over again. I can't guarantee you peace or liberty, but you will never be treated the way your father treated you. I won't let it happen.”

It was then that you both realized that when the day ended and night came, you would seek one other's solace. Two souls that had their own painful memories and had never known serenity before connected and shared it.

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fruitwaterz · 3 months

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JFabe/AbeFK: The Ultimate Queerbaiting (short essay n rant)

(Clone High Season 3 spoilers,,, beware!!!)

Hey everyone it's fruit/juno/nova aka MTVyaoi BACK with another banger essay

So if you guys didn't know already (but I'm pretty sure everyone in the Clone High community does), season three of Clone High, also known as season 2 of the Clone High reboot just premiered yesterday. Thanks to a mutual handing me over their Max account, I was able to watch the episodes in one day, and it's safe to say that it was WAY more better than season 2, despite its ups and downs.

Of course, the reboot boosted some ships into popularity, such as JoanFK (rip), Kahlopatra (rip), Tophabe, but one ship that never really came around to being popular was Jfabe, the relationship between JFK and Abe in the Clone High series.

In the very last episode of season 2, many speculated that JFK and Abe would somehow possibly get together in season 3 (while others just,,, thought they would remain friends). I made an analysis about JFK himself, and in the end, I included a bit of some Jfabe speculation. And during the time the reboot had ended, Jfabe shippers and Tophabe shippers were technically at war. But in the very end, no one was really happy, I would say.

With the new season out, and especially episode 3…yeah, there are some things that need to be discussed. Because let me tell you, I am actually. so mad

Many of the Jfabe shippers collected context clues, hints, and everything that could've hinted at the two becoming canon, only for those to be contradicted really quickly when it came to the Mary episode and the finale. Hell, when the trailer came out, most of us feared the idea of Abe not getting with JFK (actually, this would be most Abe shippers worst nightmare) and getting with someone who we never even knew.

Before I actually do get into the Mary episode, however, I wanted to bring up my favorite episode out of the series, and that is Bible Humpers: A Much Needed Praycation.

Season 3 Episode 3:

Bible Humpers introduces a subplot in which JFK gets tired of partying and having a concerning amount of sex with girls, reminders that…this is during his 17th birthday (from what I could remember), and that's sort of why he was feeling like that. From there on, he decides to become catholic and join The Prayer Pals club, hosted by Lady Godiva, a new character. However, Abe is upset about this because he believed that JFK would change so much that he would eventually forget about Abe. Abe was planning a 6th month Boy-nniversary for the two, and due to JFK being too busy with his newfound hobby, Abe steps in to stop things.

Now, this episode is agreeably, one out of the three Jfabe episodes to exist, the others being Clone Alone and Litter Kills: Literally (The reason why I count Clone Alone as a Jfabe episode, is mainly because of the scene where JFK and Abe become friends…a duo of bros that'll remain friends for the rest of their lives, more on that later, though).

Something about the episode was suspiciously fruity, with Abe being worried about JFK, giving him a new wristband to match his, pulling him really close, offering to let him take his virginity, and even went out of his way to bake a giant cake for him. Hell, at the very end of the episode, he leaves a box with the purity ring in it on JFK's doorstep, and we could even see JFK's soft smile when he read his note.

(Also pspspsp we could see two doves in the sky all while Abe is walking to JFK's house. Two doves represent love.)

(thanks to my mutual)

Next, the Mary episode. In the middle of the episode, JFK offers to have sex with Abe, even taking his shirt off and still asking Abe if he wants to go through with it. Stuff like this was mentioned in the beginning of episode 1. Not gonna go into the sex too much, because they're just teenagers.

It seems that the dynamic between these two are quite literally back and forth, they could be friends, and they could go back to arguing. Abe wants to make JFK happy, JFK cares for Abe, but either gets too riled up or feels like Abe’s ruining things for him.

So with all of this build up and hints, Jfabe was surely gonna become canon one way or another, right?

Well…I wouldn't exactly say that. Because during the finale, Abe suddenly catches feelings for Joan again, and JFK randomly ends up with Harriet, despite the fact that they both established that they didn't feel much for each other! And this was back in season 2 episode 6, where they both kiss again in a classroom, but come to the realization that they actually don't like each other at all. I like the idea of JFK x Harriet, but it just happened way too fast, and I really wish I could ignore that.

Which brings me to my argument: we were queerbaited.

(And if random jfabe dislikers come and tell me that it was bound to happen, I'm gonna lose my mind.)

We are sitting here, begging for some sort of MLM relationship. We've already had Kahlopatra, which is a same-sex female relationship (Good day for sapphics, I love that ship to bits and was disappointed in the fact that they broke up). So it wouldn't have hurt to at least have two of the main male characters date each other. But oh, yeah, let's have them being suspiciously fruity to each other as humor and nothing but humor, because in the end, it was basically just watered down to that.

It even makes me confused in a way, because what was the point of “Duo of bros who'll remain friends for the rest of our lives?” What was the reason? Did they hint at something, only to throw this away at the very last minute? Seriously, we could see background male characters get into relationships, yet not have two of the main characters get together. It's odd, yet not surprising.

Clone High has this tendency of making up random relationships, Harriet x Toussaint, Joan x Confucius (which I like however, don't come for me), Mary x Abe, just fuck all. And now, it's JFK x Harriet. Yet, it seems as if it would hurt them to make a hinted at relationship…canon. It confuses me. Are they gonna make them date in season 4? Are we even gonna get a season 4? Because the show has to get renewed in order for that to happen.

I am not mad at the writers for not making them canon because of the ship dynamic itself, I'm angry because there were so many hints, so much build up only for them to go nowhere with this. Because personally, I think it would've made the show a bit more interesting. To have two of the main male characters date. That's all I asked for, and we got nothing out of it.

You could say I'm seething over a cartoon, but I don't care!!! Cartoon or not, the ship is really important to me and most Jfabe shippers, so seeing their relationship go nowhere and the two randomly getting into M/F relationships sort of hurts. And I'm saying that as someone who isn't even a veteran Jfabe shipper, I shipped them days after season 2 ended. Both the original JFK and Abraham Lincoln (theoretically) were bisexual, so it just makes me even more puzzled.

I'm not exactly making this essay to cancel Clone High just for a silly ship, this is really just a healthy way to take out my sadness and disappointment. A vent essay, if you will. And it really is just what happened, so many interactions that could be taken as romantic, only for them not to get with each other.

Honestly, if the show writers didn't intend to queerbait us, I can only ask…“How?”

Anyway that's the end of my short essay about me screaming and crying about a ship between two white boys, subscribe and hit that notification button for more screaming and crying about a ship between two white boys. fruit signing out

#clone high #clone high season 2 #clone high 2023 #clone high season 3 #clone high spoilers #jfabe #abefk #jfk clone high #clone high abe #clone high reboot

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gatheredfates · 23 days

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ALAICE DEVERAUX

Nicknames: Not applicable. Age: Twenty-one. Nameday: Twenty-Seventh Sun of the First Astral Moon (apparently I gave her my birthday, so that might change!) Race: Duskwight Elezen. Gender: Cis female. Orientation: Straight? Profession: Lady of the House of Deveraux and Dubois, last remaining survivor after the Dragonsong War; apprentice baker and occasional confidant to Firelight Trading Company.

PHYSICAL ASPECTS

Hair: A light blue, leaning more into teal. She tends to style it in loose curls around her shoulders. Eyes: She is heterochromatic! One eye is teal, the other is a steel grey. Skin: Pale with a silvery undertone; it tends to reflect whatever light hits it, rather than possessing it's own distinct colour. Tattoos/Scars: None of any note.

FAMILY

Parents: Lord and Lady Deveraux, dead by Alaice's sixteenth year. It is said that Lord Deveraux attempted to defend his wife from the dragons before he was engulfed in flames. No remains of her mother have been found. Siblings: Not applicable. Grandparents: Not applicable, more unfortunate souls lost to the war. In-Laws and Others: Alaice has a child from her first marriage, a daughter called Alyna. Her husband, Draeir Dubois, died under mysterious circumstances in the months preceding the Ishgardian/Dragon peace treaty, bringing no end of speculation from gentry and smallfolk alike. Some suspect his desire to expand his house beyond Foundation's spires drew ire from the High Houses and he was made an example of. Others suspect a more... intimate cause. Without a murder weapon or obvious intent, none can deduce a proper suspect.

She is particularly close to @riftdancing's Siyoh Mari who, whilst not understanding a lick of Ishgardian gossip, will happily entertain the confusion over a cup of tea as Alaice dramatizes. This leagues better than Elandervier who told her she'd 'rather chew on a voidsent's ass' and leaves at the very mention of anything to do with the city. She has an extremely complicated relationship with the other Elezen due to their mutual upbringings, trauma and reconciliation.

When Firelight is conducting business in Ishgard, she can be seen at its patriarch's side helping him navigate the intricacies of the city. Pets: Unless you count the many birds that have taken residence in her gardens, not applicable.

SKILLS

Abilities: Alaice is ice-aspected to a dangerous degree, and it's an element she has always tried to keep under wraps for fear of heresy and expulsion from the Holy See. As a result, the magic is unpredictable and emerges as a by-product of extreme situations/emotions. Only a select few people know she possesses such an ability. Hobbies: Like all ladies of her standing, Alaice was given a proper education including tutelage in deportment; music, song and dance; needlework and painting — among other gentle pursuits. She has a particular affinity for bird watching and, in the advent of her husband's death, has sunk herself readily into her little business as a baker.

TRAITS

Most positive trait: Alaice possesses a remarkable capacity for trust despite her confinement and husband's abuse. Worst negative trait: Her naïvety. As a woman constricted by the societal expectations of Ishgardian women, Alaice knows scarce little about the world around her — or even Ishgard proper. It is something she is working constantly to undo.

LIKES

Colours: Blue, white, silver, gold and shades of brown. However, given Ishgard's proclivity to the cold, any colour that can break through the sheen of snow is a welcomed addition in her eyes. Smells: Anything floral and/or citrus. These are not necessarily smells she will wear, but remind her of a time before the Calamity when the climate of Ishgard was better suited. She's also partial to vanilla, almond and loves the smell of rain. Textures: Knitted wool and smooth glass (or ice, though she tries not to think too much about it), the gentle prick of pine and the grooves in wood and stone. Drinks: Champagne, white wine and mead. She's also discovering some enjoyment of red wine, stay tuned if she gets more extreme!

OTHER DETAILS

Smokes: Rarely. She smoked recreationally after her parents died, a sort of 'dare' from the other ladies in her company, and took it up in secret as a way to release anxiety in the early days of her marriage — away from the prying eyes of her husband. Alaice quit after becoming pregnant with Alyna and hasn't taken it back up due to associating it with those negative experiences. Drinks: Semi-regularly. Much like smoking, she quit entirely when she got pregnant and tends to only partake as a social nicety. She can acknowledge where she was falling into unhealthy patterns when she was married and tries not to go back to those places. Drugs: Not applicable. Mount Issuance: Not applicable. Alaice was fed on the indoctrination by her husband that is not a lady's place to traverse, but that men should come to her. If she is needed for Firelight Business she will be escorted by their couriers, but she has no vehicle of her own. Been Arrested: No. Being a suspect was traumatic enough. Why would she kill her lord husband?

Tagged by: @eriyu — at least for this one! I'm going to try and do one character per tag. Tagging: @thefreelanceangel, @hythlodaes, @piyopikamika, @sealrock, @thevikingwoman & @yloiseconeillants! If you'd like a chance of being tagged, you can like my permanent interaction call here!

#｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea speaks #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 : alaice #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea answers things #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — character answers / memes #look how cute she looks in the screenshot my little BABY #i have so many more to do from the tags #so #i'll be here all day SDFKJGHSDF

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piedpiperart · 10 months

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Phantom of Gotham 17

Chapter 16

“Shoot, we didn’t ask Phantom about Danny,”Dick groaned.

“I asked him a bit, but it uh. It seemed private,”Tim chimed in from where he was sitting at the batcomputer with his pajamas on. They’d changed when they had gotten back, but stuck around to debrief.

“Yeah, what the fuck were you thinking going into some glowing green portal by yourself?” Jason let out, exasperated. Tim just shrugged, not pausing in his typing.

“You could have come with you know,”Tim argued. “He said it was safe, and we just flew to this frozen island to get Frostbite, then flew back.”

“Frozen island? Wait a minute, what was it like in there?” Dick asked, bouncing on his feet with Damian scowling at his side in batman pajamas.

“Well, it’s kind of like… okay, imagine the sky is green, just like the portal. Now imagine you’re floating in the green sky and theres no ground. So theres only sky around you and as you keep moving theres things floating in the sky as you go along, like random doors and floating islands,” Tim explained. “Its really interesting actually, apparently most of the floating islands or doors lead to a ghosts haunt, or territory. Frostbites was huge and he and his people lived in these snowy mountain caves, but their technology was super advanced. I didn’t get a lot of time to ask about it but apparently Frostbite is like the Zone’s doctor.”

“Huh,” Dick murmured, trying to wrap his brain around all of that information. The other bats didn’t seem much better.

Tim sighed. “Just read my report.”

“Creepy ghost zone aside,”Jason shuddered,”What did you mean when you said you talked to Phantom about Danny? And why were you two running around looking for boxes?”

“I asked why Danny had uh.. Autopsy scars, and Phantom said that the Fentons found out about Danny and locked him in their lab. Phantom couldn’t get to him immediately, so they had time to uh, do a few experiments,”Tim gritted out.”But Phantom got him out eventually and they made their way here.”

None of them were happy about that, but it was mostly what they had speculated. Still, confirming what they thought wasn’t a good feeling. Tim could see Jason’s fists clenching and decided on a distraction.

“As for the boxes,”Tim grinned.”On our way back we ran into a ghost who had an obsession with boxes, so I promised to give some to Frostbite for him when we were done.”

Jason didn’t know what to do with that information, so he just elected to ignore it. Dick on the other hand, had many questions. “Why boxes?”

“I was told he is the ruler of all things cardboard and square,”Tim repeated, laughing internally at their faces. “Phantom calls him Boxy.”

“Huh,”Dick said again, and Tim was starting to get concerned. He shrugged, they could just read his report about it.

“Wait, was Boxy the one that had a kid?” Jason said suddenly, and they all grimaced.

-----------------------------------------------

Flying back to the Wayne Manor, Danny could see hardly any snow outside. He knew they’d probably continue school tomorrow, or the next day. Part of him trusted the bats, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to reveal his identity yet. He knew he couldn’t stay there any longer for fear of the Wayne-Bats wanting to find him a place to stay or getting involved more than they were, but Danny didn’t want their civilian sides getting too involved.

He knew that after three portals were opened in one space had a high possibility of alerting GIW or Vlad of his location. If he wanted to avoid them, he couldn’t stay with the Waynes. Danny wasn’t sure if they still had a way of tracking him, but they could definitely track huge power sources like the portals he’d made.

Danny floated down to his room and eyed his bag in the corner. He’d kept it fully packed in case he needed to leave, but he felt bad leaving without a goodbye. Maybe he could write a note? It was for the best, really. He didn’t want his parents or Agent K breaking into the manor or hurting the Waynes. Sure, they could fight the agents no problem, but they might give their identities away. Or worse, Vlad could break into the manor. It would be easy for Vlad to find him if he ended up on any of the Wayne’s social media. Danny was pretty sure the fruitloop jealously stalked Bruce on every social media platform that ever existed.

Maybe that’s how Vlad got the idea to adopt a blue eyed black haired teenager? Danny mused, then shook his head. Then he stopped. Actually, that made some sense. Danny frowned. Okay, so maybe Vlad’s plans weren’t even original. Whatever. Either way, he had to leave.

Yeah, he could write them a note, he thought, ignoring the sad feeling permeating his core.

---------------------------------------

Despite the fact that they had school that morning, Tim hadn’t seen Danny yet. Usually, the boy would be in the kitchen cooking breakfast with Alfred, but not today Part of him wondered if Danny was sleeping still when he caught sight of Alfred’s face and the note laid on the table.

“What’s up Alfred? Where’s Danny?”Tim asked, taking a seat. Uncharacteristically, Alfred frowned and passed him the note gently.

“Master Danny has decided to return to his old place due to the snow letting up,”Alfred informed him, and Tim’s heart dropped. He grasped the note tighter and jerked his gaze to the letters.

Waynes-

Thank you for letting me stay with you all during the blizzard, but now that the snow has let up it’s time for me to leave. Sorry for not staying long enough for a goodbye, but I figured you’d try to convince me to stay, so, yeah. Don’t worry about me though, I’ll be fine. You have my number and I’ll be seeing Tim and Steph at school. Just please don’t call CPS or anything, I promise I’m much better off on my own. Anyways, thanks for letting me stay. It was nice to meet you all.

-Danny 𔓎

p.s. Please don’t call Red Hood to kidnap me again.

Tim let out a breath, reading the note again before putting it on the table. His mind was already racing with plans. Maybe Danny went back to the Pizzaria, so Red Robin could just swing by later. When did Danny even leave? He was sure they would have caught him on the security feed or Alfred would have at least caught him sneaking out.

“I believe Master Danny had left sometime last night,”Alfred said, cutting through his thoughts. “He left the note on his bed, and Master Bruce is unsure how he managed to avoid the cameras on his way.”

“You think Phantom took him?” Tim asked, but frowned. That didn’t make any sense. Maybe Danny just asked Phantom to get him? Was that why Phantom disappeared so quickly after the meeting?

“It seems that way,”Alfred said, pushing a plate of food at him. “Master Jason has since returned home, but has been alerted of the situation. Masters Bruce and Dick are in the cave, and Damian has already left for school in accordance to a field trip.”

“Hm,”Tim frowned. He assumed Jason would be swinging by the Pizzeria to check out Danny’s space. At least he knew he’d be seeing Danny at school, and, the letter was right, he did have Danny’s number. No doubt Damian was mad at Danny for leaving too, but maybe Jason would be able to find him again later and bring him back. Tim resigned himself to try to kidnap Danny to the manor after school.

In the meantime, he pulled out his phone with a frown.

Timkerbell

You better not be sleeping in the Pizzeria again

Snowdan

Me? Pshh, nah, I’d never. What are you talking about.

Timkerbell

I can’t believe you. You didn’t even say goodbye!

Snowdan

I will literally see you at school in an hour

Timkerbell

I can’t believe you’d rather be homeless than stay in a frikin manor. You know we’re rich right? One extra person isn’t a big deal.

Snowdan

You guys said I could leave when the snow stopped.

Timkerbell

Yeah because we thought you’d want to stay! You know that right? Literally everyone misses you. Even Damian.

Snowdan

Okay but I did say I was still gonna leave. Many times.

Timkerbell

Snowdan

Seriously. I don’t want to be a bother. Or have my family show up at your doorstep unannounced.

Timkerbell

Uh. Why would they do that

Snowdan

No reason.

On an unrelated note, if anyone in Blue/Orange jumpsuits or White suits show up at your door don’t let them in.

Timkerbell

Ah. That explains absolutely nothing thanks

Snowdan

Ur welcome. See u in class ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

Tim frowned. So maybe people were still hunting Danny? The jumpsuits were obviously his parents, and the white suits is the Guys in White. Did Danny know that Tim would get the reference? Was it a warning of some sort? Tim rubbed his head, thinking of the impending headache this was gonna cause. Either way, if Danny was subtly warning them he’s still being hunted, then he should know they can handle themselves. And that they can protect him a whole lot better if he actually stayed in the manor.

Sighing, Tim got ready for school and made his way to the car. At least Alfred sent him with some cookies to give Danny. Or bribe him. Tim wasn’t opposed to blackmail.

Chapter 18

#Phantom of Gotham #Danny Phantom #dcxdp #dpxdc

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randomfoggytiger · 8 months

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"Proving" Mulder Knew He Was the Father of Scully's Baby

(Had to get this out before the next part of Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma series; so... here we go~!)

Mulder knew he was the father of Scully's baby before Three Words began; and his reticence had everything to do with his PTSD, guilt, and fear and nothing to do with feeling replaced by his partner's child. His ending monologue in Existence further proves this, concluding Mulder's emotional turbulence: "I think what we feared were the possibilities. The truth we both knew."

But how is that to be proven?

Cutting Out Context to Bait the Mystery

According to the script (uploaded here by @x-files-scripts, thank you~), Scully very casually mentions how far along she is separate from her concerns about (and to) Mulder. Mulder doesn't react to this information at all, meaning whatever his reticence and withdrawal were rooted in had nothing to do with feeling replaced as the father of her child.

Throughout their conversation, Mulder tries to keep Scully from digging deeper into his emotions or trauma, deflecting with humor or emotional separation. Scully finally directly addresses his distance; and (though a bit out-of-order from how it aired), the scene below makes two things very obvious:

SCULLY: Mulder --

MULDER: (cutting her off) -- whatever you're going to say, Scully, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be cold. Or ungrateful to you.

SCULLY: I don't know if you can truly understand what it was like.... And now to get you back....

MULDER manages a smile, finally. But only barely.

MULDER: You act like you're surprised.

Scully manages a chuckle, but she's truly worried about him.

SCULLY: I prayed so many nights. And my prayers were answered, Mulder.

MULDER: In more ways than one.

MULDER looks to Scully's stomach. Which she touches.

SCULLY: Yes.

MULDER: I'm so truly happy for you. I know what it means to you --

SCULLY: Mulder --

MULDER: (cuts her off again) -- but I'm having trouble processing any of this. I don't know why I'm here, or where I fit in anymore. I feel strange. Like this can't be happening.

SCULLY nods. Anything she had wanted to tell him will wait.

SCULLY: That's what I've been saying to myself for the last eight months.

What Scully "had wanted to tell him" had nothing to do with her child's paternity nor was that even a concern because she, as mentioned above, says "the last eight months" effortlessly. (An important note: because they kept no show bible, the writers forgot Mulder was missing three months and buried another three; but the intent behind that line is the same even if there isn't or wasn't a numbers problem to quibble over.)

"The last eight months" comes at the tail end of the conversation without a remark or quip from Mulder's perspective, meaning this wasn't news enough for him to comment on or even react to. Scully's statement bookended their discussion, meaning she wasn't drawing it out longer or forcing information down Mulder's throat that he wasn't ready to process. Since that is the case, both knew the problem wasn't her pregnancy (though it was a stressful factor) but was another, bigger concern.

Devil's advocate: Scully was trying to tell Mulder the baby was his-- Gillian Anderson's expressions debunk this theory, but we'll press on-- and the months referred to was how long Mulder was "gone": in which case, Scully being hugely pregnant would have been a huge tip off for her partner regardless; and Mulder, for as much as he is avoiding the obvious this episode, is not stupid.

By cutting up the script-- taking out important context and removing crucial lines-- the audience is left to speculate on information that what was intended to be understated yet obvious (though unconfirmed until the finale episodes.) Chris Carter and Spotnitz have already stated they'd baited Scully's pregnancy as much as they could (one such interview here, credit to @babygirlmulder1018 for the upload~) while always planning for Mulder to be the father. The problem with their method is that they sacrificed necessary clarity for ambiguity, leaving the actors to scramble or fill in the butchered gaps as much as they could with implied body language. Three Words Mulder's affectionate, though fleeting, glances at Scully's belly or Scully's heightening worry for his well-being are debatable clues, all dependent on the viewer's interpretation (even when rewatched with hindsight.) The key to any good mystery is to have all the puzzle pieces in place so that it makes sense when you go back and see them all line up. Cutting out important clues early just to bait the mystery is foolhardy, especially when those gaps are never filled-in with any answers; and The X-Files show, while built around unsolved or unresolved mysteries, always provided a likely explanation (even if that explanation was later revealed to not be entirely true.) It's a shame that this premediated action thoughtlessly skewed the reading of the scene so badly that it took away from its original intent-- Scully's worries over her partner as he becomes more and more lost in his trauma-- and turned it widely into a "bet he's jealous or feels left behind because Scully moved on without him" interpretation, muddying it for viewers over the decades to come.

It's not the first time a script has been stripped of its original intent to fit the vision of the showrunners (often to the frustration to the various writers, actors, directors, etc.); but there is a marked difference between the tampering done to, for example, David Duchovny's personal ideas and scripts in keeping with the mythos of the show (Cinefantastique: David Duchovny on "The Unnatural" and "Hollywood A.D.") and specifically removing an important piece of dialogue to intentionally blur a scene for "the mystery" without that action serving any goal other than obfuscation... and, ultimately, confusion.

Mulder Himself Proves He Knew

According to the script, Scully's concerns started in her partner's hospital room when Mulder's non-reaction snags her notice twice in a row:

"His reaction is so underwhelming that Scully has to laugh" and

"The doctor has to chuckle, looking to Scully. But Scully isn't humored now. She reads something in Mulder past the humor. And Mulder catches her sensing it. That he is deeply troubled."

"Mulder catches her sensing it" is a crucial piece of information, smoothly setting up the scene at his apartment-- Mulder doesn't ice Scully out (always responding to her pleas with mustered up but equal sympathy and sorrow) but he avoids her eyes as much as possible, not wanting to be read, to be "exposed." THAT is what concerns Scully-- never before in their partnership has he evaded eye contact, likely seeking it more often than any other person on the planet. But Mulder (also likely more than anyone) knows that eyes are the window to the soul; and he doesn't want his bared yet.

The tricky part of the ensuing scenes is not to mistake his avoidance of Scully's detection with his avoidance of the baby. Mulder is avoiding everything equally-- but he will still spare a moment for his partner or his baby here and there before snatching away his focus again, dodging any opportunity that might lead to vulnerability.

At his apartment, Mulder turns aside whenever he can or spreads a plaster-fake grin on his face when in conversation;

but it melts into sincerity after he finally acknowledges the baby in the room. It's not quite happiness, but it is a form of contentment and a little pride (similar to his look on the couch in Empedocles.)

When Scully wants to commit anarchy over Kersh's tyrannical terms, Mulder squashes that impulse flat, sparing a strained but still sincere smile as he directs her attention to the pragmatic fact of her baby.

(It's not until "Agent Who?" comes across Mulder's radar that he starts to stiffen against Scully's reticence. Again, not about the baby.)

The last significant mention of Scully's pregnancy is in her kitchen at her apartment. TLG drop in to do their research... and to refocus Mulder on his impending miracle ("a certain blessed event") and away from his crazy mission. Mulder's amused at first with their commentary (as is Scully), giving an exaggeratedly suspicious, comedic squint (which Scully follows up with a witty repartee on his investigative methods)--

until he figures out his partner's ulterior machinations. (The tensions that trail them both the rest of the episode are because of Scully's interferences and not-- again-- because of the baby.)

Those are the only direct references to the baby in Three Words, although Scully does tag along on his madcap mission with TLG); and Empedocles starts out in the spirit of the kitchen scene above-- Mulder squinting about the pizza man, ribbing Scully lightly, and enjoying getting ribbed in return-- but with the added bonus of some unfiltered, heartfelt moments of a man fully embracing fatherhood.

So why, if the original intent of the struggle of Three Words wasn't about the paternity question, does Mulder still struggle with doubts the rest of the series. Well... what were his paternity doubts?

Paternity Doubts

Mulder knew (logically) that his partner wouldn't run into the arms of another man or through the doors of the nearest IVF clinic just because he was chucked six feet under; but that reassurance gave him nothing to stand firmly on since both of their lives revolved around clones, aliens, and even a little girl that was born (and died) to serve an agenda.

Scully had been used over and over against her consent and was ultimately stripped of her fertility; and even though Mulder once said "never give up on a miracle", the IVF had failed, and there had been months of regular extracurricular activities since without even a thought of a baby on either of their radars. But somehow, the minute he vanishes off the planet, she finds out she's pregnant? The exact same somehow he was abducted and somehow returned and somehow resurrected? It doesn't add up; and Mulder's motto has always been "I want to believe."

"I have the same doubts you do, Scully," he said in the Pilot; and those doubts haunt him in Three Words; and (although they are temporarily set aside during the off-screen conversation Mulder has with his partner before Empedocles) they remain, along with his fears, buried under the surface-- as demonstrated by his opening monologue in Essence: "Is it the product of a union? Or... an answer to prayer-- a true miracle? Or is it a wonder of technology, the intervention of other hands? What do I tell this child about to be born? What do I tell Scully? What do I tell myself?"

Furthermore, the events of Essence and Existence make a bit (only a bit) more sense if those events-- Zeus Genetics, Billy Miles, Lizzie Gill, Krycek, the Super soldiers, and other such nonsense-- are put through another lens: trauma.

The Other, Bigger Concern

If Mulder knew the baby was his, why did he distance himself?

Simply put, PTSD.

Three Words very specifically chooses Mulder's flashbacks as his first scene (post here), providing motive to any future decision he makes. Being torn apart for three months and buried another three before being resurrected on a chance is a lot to grapple with; add in a pregnant partner who is clearly expecting a miraculous baby amidst a set of tragically unmiraculous events and looking to her recently resurrected partner for not only their old relationship but more and you get a PTSD-riddled, paranoid, and very panicked Fox Mulder.

Empedocles begins after the aforementioned off-screen conversation; and quite plainly establishes Mulder in his new paternal role, bringing Scully (and the baby) gifts like he has any other significant moment in their relationship (and also because it's no longer acceptable to bring triumphant caveman hunting trophies back to the domestic den.) This episode not only goes out of its way to give him a first-time "feeling his baby move" scene, but further cements Mulder's role by showing him standing sentry outside of Scully's door, doting on her hand and foot back at her apartment, and including their baby nonverbally in Scully's gratitude speech. These benchmark moments are then followed up by him briefly forgetting his baby in Vienen, not wanting to leave its side in Alone, and cycling back to his paternity worries in Essence-- further proof that his initial distance and on-again-off-again dance is rooted firmly in trauma rearing its ugly head to continually mess up his temporary peace.

That trauma follows him (mostly unacknowledged) the rest of Season 8, coming to a head (and exploding) during the events of Essence and Existence. When his security in Scully's science and himself are completely eroded, Mulder is left blindly grappling for any explanation from any nearest and newest source currently in front of him (handing off Scully to his sworn enemy should have been the tip-off point to both she and Skinner, prompting them to put a stop to his spiraling before doing anything else... but I digress.) His hot-and-cold attitude is back (referring to their child as "your baby") even though his fiercely protective love and interest hasn't faded one bit ("will do anything to protect it.")

Deep down, Mulder always knew (or at least hoped) the baby was his-- "the truth we both know," after all.

So, What Does This Mean?

Probably nothing in the grand scheme of things, but a rippling domino effect in the minutiae. It explains Mulder's distant-then-doting attitude, the manifestation of his PTSD and impending parenthood, and even why he was happy to have Scully firmly glued by his side throughout Three Words (even if he couldn't meet her eyes at times.) Scully's pregnancy was a change for both: almost overnight she needed more from their relationship. However, once she realized how displaced and harried Mulder was, Scully relaxed the pace for both of them (off-screen...), allowing Mulder to finally recover, regroup, and continue on. Once that understanding was reached (again: off-screen), Mulder started to take his journey more gently (upsetting and resettling himself whenever Scully's health scares or his impulsive actions blasted him up, down, and sideways) while Scully refigured how to fit their new normal into the life she built in his absence. Like always, teamwork and their unspoken; and, overall, it makes Season 8's there-and-gone-again MSR bits that much more in-character and enjoyable.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #meta #xf meta #Mulder #S8 #“Proving” Mulder Knew He Was the Father of Scully's Baby #Scully #Deadalive #Three Words #Essence #Existence #Empedocles #x-files #xfiles #the x files #mine #dailytxf #xf30th #analysis

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iamadequate1717 · 6 months

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The Breakups

Stede and Ed have three breakups under their belt right now: Ed initiated two of them, and Stede is currently getting blame for one of those. The finale is releasing tomorrow, so hopefully this turns into a moot point, but I'm defending Stede anyway!

Part 2: The Breakups

Note that Part 1 is here:

This 2x7 breakup is likely to be over in 2x8 (.... I say less than 24 hours to the premier and trying to act like I'm a prophet...), and with rule of three, I'm going to say that's going to be their last one. Any more Will-They-Or-Won't-They would be tedious, especially since at that point, we'd be at about one-third of the series with them "broken up," and they need to start communicating as a couple already, but this oscillation is what makes OFMD unique isn't it?

Their breakups are about them as characters: the first time, Ed leaves with Calico Jack; Ed realizes his devotion to Stede but Stede has his fears confirmed... which rolls into the second breakup (Stede doesn't have those fears resolved early enough, and Ed feels like a discarded plaything), which rolls into the third. They need to address the fears and insecurities together and not spiral out on their own. I'm guessing (and using what HBO has shown us) that Ed gets his assurances early, and hopefully, we can put an end to this internal catastrophizing so they can face the world together.

Love, the emotion, may be easy, just like breathing, but a couple is still two people with different experiences and different needs, but real life relationships take work (...I say as a happy single person...). Romcoms end with the First Kiss, fanfics end with the First Sex, but OFMD seems to be carrying us through the growing pains of the relationship. Happily Ever After isn't a magical state that is achieved once you tell each other that you love the other, but so many pieces of media treat that as the end, but OFMD is treating it as a middle. Often times, it feels like the couple is just playing musical chairs, and if they're a couple when time runs out, they're going to be a couple forever!

In S2 speculation, it was not infrequent that people were imagining that the S2 cliffhanger would be Ed and Stede laying eyes on each other for the first time with a fade to black. That isn't interesting. We don't want these two to run out the clock.

But I want to look at the breakups specifically. Let's look at 2x7. Spanish Jackie lays down the truth to Ed, but he doesn't seem to latch onto the big point: does Stede know that this regular guy, no more pirate, part isn't a phase?

"He said at the academy..." Stede was dealing with other things, and from what he saw, Ed went back to piracy. To be fair also, the Revenge doesn't do much piracy itself, so Stede hasn't seen Ed's dissatisfaction first hand. A lot of audience anger toward Stede is an audience who saw the environment 2x1 and 2x2, who saw Ed in the gravy basket, who saw Ed's bored asides with Izzy. They're treating Stede as a member of the audience rather than as a character within the story. Stede didn't see any of this. Most of his interactions with Ed was cutesy fluff. Stede knows he likes being near Ed, but they haven't spent much time talking about deeper topics.

On what Ed does with the breakup in 2x7, I'm bringing up this line from 2x4, when they briefly spoke like adults:

Ed shutting down the conversation and not letting Stede give explanations isn't fair to Stede, but it continued with the third breakup: in 2x7, Ed leaves Stede with some emotional whiplash. Stede was just having one of the best days of his life and was met with an Ed who refused to explain what was going on. When you look at what just Stede saw, it was utterly baffling! My post on that:

And then Stede insulted Ed's fish, thereby making him History's Greatest Monster, amiright?

Ed basically screams that fishermen and pirates are so different, it would be like if a mermaid and a bird tried to have a marriage. It's a self fulfilling prophecy at that point: cut Stede out completely so they have no chance to grow their lives with room for the romantic relationship. (And really, for those criticizing Stede, how do you respond correctly off the cuff to a random statement like that?)

This is devastating: Stede has completely cut himself out of his old life. He left Barbados for Ed, not for piracy. He laid out his feelings, and he made himself vulnerable to Ed. Just hours after being intimate for the first time, he's coldly told it was a mistake, and his sad face at that statement:

He doesn't run off in tears to have a breakdown like I would! He instead is reasonable with Ed: they can define their relationship however they want, but Ed cuts off any possibility of any relationship.

Stede does not know what's going on. I'm really confused what people who are "so mad!" at Stede here would expect of him, provided they only know what Stede knows in universe. Stede just wants to talk and work on their relationship together. Ed wants to start a new career, and more specifically, a life completely separate from Stede.

No, Stede doesn't respond to that pirate line, but he gave the immediate response to the part he cared about more (and likely replayed the conversation over and over in his head later with improved responses, as we do).

Stede does not run after Ed here, but why would he? He's told the audience directly that he thinks Ed is better off without him.

Lucius tells him, "Maybe the time he spent with you is the best it's ever going to get for him," and again, Stede directly tells the audience that he doesn't believe that.

This is not a man with high self esteem. Remember him being ready to be executed and being told he's the worst pirate captain ever? He thought that was fair.

Ed cuts off their relationship, and Stede thinks he deserves that, that Ed realized he was better off without Stede. So Stede lets him go.

On their breakups, the first one was short (Ed's back the same episode!), but the second happened at a season break so there was more time for fandom speculation. We all saw the theories, and a too common thread was "Will Ed forgive Stede??", and we saw the speculation that Stede should prostrate himself before Ed and beg for forgiveness, no matter how long it took. It simplifies the narrative, but is that the show we're watching and is that fair to Stede?

Stede instantly forgave Ed after choosing Calico Jack over him in front of everyone; the second breakup was longer and they had more time to do the whole negative self talk thing, but Stede still did deserve more grace, didn't he? With Season 2 (and its truncated run time!), we saw the criticisms that Ed forgave Stede too easily, but did he? They're on friendly terms, but there is still a wall.

See Ed's time in the Gravy Basket. The first three episodes were the Soup Show. It symbolized family or warmth or whatever (...I say as a robot who doesn't understand human feelings...), so it's a standout that Ed calling the soup poison is his feelings about accepting that warm domesticity, not something literal about Hornigold. He opened himself up to someone, and all he got was heartbreak and confirmation he was unlovable (and he was too scared to do anything about it).

And this is followed almost immediately by the baller line about a man being brought down in the place where he had definitely chosen Stede for the first time.

In the Gravy Basket, we had the metaphor on the feet (no shoes = death, shoes = life... there is good meta running around, but I'm too lazy to find it). Ed gains one shoe (putting him between life and death) when Stede starts to be led to his body, and Stede brings life to him (shoe shot!).

Stede is an anchor to life at this low point, but that doesn't mean that Ed completely forgives.

In Season 2, we don't have the Gloves as Metaphor with Ed anymore (half gloves when he meets Stede, no gloves at the academy, full gloves when he goes full kraken), but he still has other cues on how his feeling about Stede. We don't have the casual touches of Season 1, and everything feels "off." We're lacking in the tenderness, and Ed still is keeping his distance.

Ed and Stede have held hands this season, but not in a romantic way.

When we get to the romance, Ed doesn't put his hands on Stede's skin/hair like Stede does for him (production stills don't count!). In the third kiss, he pushes Stede's collar up as a barrier.

With what the audience was invited in for their love scene, Stede is visually more exposed and ready, and Ed is more distanced and closed off (that is NOT to say that Ed wasn't into it...).

Everything is close to what it should be, but it's not the perfect expression of love exploding across the screen. Something's off. The audience can pick up on it, and Stede, our autistic king, may subconsciously feeling it, but he is taking a lot of it at face value. (They slept together! They're a couple and an unbroken team now!)

On The Sex, is this the first time that Stede has received (verbal) concerns about his welfare in the series? He was told he was a monster, a plague, a defiler of beautiful things, and he's just been trying to live his life with no one refuting that even in a small way.

Sure, Ed said his fake heads idea didn't suck.

Sure... uh.... Ed said he wasn't a girl?

He gets some affirmation, they do something to help them feel alive almost losing each other, and he's intimate for the first time with the man he loves. Everything is going great! But everything instantly flips 180 degrees a few hours later. He's been holding it together well most of the season, even after thinking that Ed is literally dead, and y'all shouldn't judge him for a few mildly harsh words said without thinking. He feels foolish and used and heartbroken, and his bad day has just begun.

I hope I can get some thoughts up on the last part of 2x7 before the finale, but until then, here's some bonus sad face Stede during their first breakup, where Ed broke up with him in front of everyone! Everyone saw it! ("Never left" psh, likely story.)

How can you not be sad when he's sad??

We'll see what the finale does with them soon. Overall, I'm happy so far with Ed/Stede in Season 2. The rest of it... eh, Lucius/Pete is my happy spot. I'm hoping we get a good Ed/Stede payoff in the finale, and that we get to see more of their growth as a couple in Season 3 (manifesting!). It's rare that a show/movie/book/etc focused on just a romance sticks with the couple after that "finally together!" spot, and I want to see what this writing team does with that settled romance.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #stede bonnet #stede defense #stede did nothing wrong #blackbonnet #gentlebeard

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cuubism · 1 year

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I heard that Silly Rabbit is the shit

unless you're @magnusbae in disguise i don't even know HOW you stumbled on that au or remembered it after all this time 😂 but it is, uh, that's one way to describe it.

watch video for context

this au is nonlinear and random and made up of little vignettes so i suppose i'll post a scene. the only scene i won't, or i suppose shouldn't, post, as buns tells me it must be withheld for humorous gratification, is the actual scene that references that video 😂

please note. this fic is 90% CRACK and not meant to be taken seriously

---

Sculpture Class

“Why am I hearing student rumors about you being in their classes?” Hob demanded, hands on his hips. Dream, lounging on the couch in his office, didn’t deign to get up. “Is there some kind of Dream lookalike on campus I need to be aware of? Or are you just tormenting them again?”

“Tormenting your students is only one of my many activities,” Dream drawled. Hob frowned disapprovingly, which Dream found quite amusing. “But this is not one of those times. Am I not allowed to explore the university?”

“Well, you aren’t actually enrolled here, but I’m sure you’ve found a way around that.”

“Nobody dares to question me.”

Hob shook his head, but the admonishment in the gesture quickly ceded to fondness. “I’m sure they start daydreaming too quickly. What classes are you taking, anyway?”

Dream smiled, pressing his hands together. “For now, that is my secret.”

Hob sighed, but ultimately smiled. “Alright, you. Be all mysterious if you must.”

Dream would. He was no longer such a mystery to Hob as he had been in the past, nor did he want to be. But it was good to hold some things for himself. And it was always fun to keep Hob speculating.

Hob would learn about his newfound human hobbies soon enough, anyway.

-----

Crafting with his hands was… meditative. Dream understood, then, why humans spent time trying to banish their many thoughts and daydreams with stillness and silence – he had become so used to the cacophony that lived within him that it was startling to feel it recede to the background. Startling, and peaceful, a moment of clarity for deep focus and reevaluation.

Dream’s mind, such that he had one in the traditional sense of the concept, was a constant flurry of sounds and images, words and feelings, colors and memories. All thought, all imagination, all dreams, all nightmares touched him and lived within him. Dream was used to this and did not find it disturbing, he supposed it was in the way a longtime city dweller may become used to the incessant traffic, chatter, music, and humanity.

Losing it had been disturbing. Waking in Burgess’s cage to absolute, total silence inside his own mind had been one of the most disturbing things Dream had experienced in the past millennium. The Dreaming had been gone from his awareness, the songs of the dreams, too. The silence, the pure utter silence, a century of it – it was the one time in his long existence that Dream had genuinely feared he might lose his mind the way Delirium had, that he might fall into the slipstream simply for having nothing to latch onto. Ultimately, he’d had to ground himself in the meager physical sensations of his prison to avoid it.

Now, Dream was free again to drift in the Dreaming as he so wished. And the meditation of physical creating was not the horrible silence of having something fundamental ripped out of him. Rather, it was like stepping from the crowded city streets into an empty field for the first time in ages. Still, there were the buzzing insects, and the whispering trees. But the hardest edges of the clamor were distant, a memory.

It was peaceful. Peace was not something Dream experienced often. Strange, to be finding it more and more frequently here in the waking world.

He focused on the clay in his hands. It was a slippery medium – literally and figuratively – liquid and wanting to find its own shape rather than the one Dream had in mind for it. It was already all over his hands and arms, but he didn’t mind. Better to be mired in the creation while creating.

He worked, letting the pleasant haze of focus fill his mind. The art room was surprisingly easy to work in; Dream had expected to be annoyed by the presence of others in his space, but as it turned out, the focus of so many minds on creation built an ideal atmosphere for it.

He put his project together carefully, patiently letting the clay have its fits and disagreements. How fun, to work with something that talked back, in its own language. Dream had really been missing out on physical art; he’d have to keep working on rectifying that.

The day slipped by. By the time Dream had the piece the way he wanted it, night had fallen. He set it aside to dry – this would take a few days, and then it would have to be fired, as well. How thrilling, he thought, to be forced to wait to see his finished work.

He had been indulging himself for a while, and should return to the Dreaming to make sure nothing was awry. Before he did so, he stepped briefly through to Hob’s flat to say hello.

“There you are,” said Hob, sitting at the kitchen table with tea and a book. “I was starting to think you’d wandered off.”

“I wander, but I always return,” said Dream, bending to kiss him.

“I know.”

“But I must go to the Dreaming, I have left it awhile.”

Hob sighed. “I figured as much. Come back soon, hm?”

Dream hummed in response, and Hob tugged him down into a proper kiss, holding him close for several long moments before letting him go.

“I’m so curious what you’ve been up to, but I have a feeling you aren’t going to tell me because you want to be all mysterious,” he said when they parted.

“You feel correctly,” said Dream.

Hob waved him away. “Go on, you. Go be brooding and secretive in your realm so I can miss you more than I do already.”

“You desire to miss me?”

“Well, considering having you here all the time is a losing game, and not something I’d ask of you anyway, I figured I might as well lean into the thrill of missing you and getting you back,” Hob said. He looked up at Dream with a smile that was knowing, fond, tinged with the slightest melancholy. In that look, Dream felt understood, in both his wandering, and his constancy.

“You will have me back,” he said.

“I know, love. Now go on, Lord of Dreams, your royal duties await.”

Dream caressed his cheek, and then vanished.

----

Several days later, he had collected his sculpture, hardened from living clay into permanence. Now that it was complete, he was not certain what he was supposed to do with it. Dreams, once completed, went off to perform their functions, to continue evolving. This was static, completed. Dream was at a bit of a loss.

He took it to Hob’s office. Hob was annotating a book when Dream arrived. Notes for lecture, Dream supposed. Hob looked up to smile at him when he came in, but he seemed engrossed in what he was doing – until his gaze caught on the sculpture in Dream’s hands.

“That’s pretty. Is it a raven?”

“Three, in fact.” They twined in a flurry around each other, a carefully balanced triad that appeared off-kilter but held itself upright nonetheless. Figuring out the weighting of it had been an interesting challenge.

“Where did you get it?”

“I made it.”

Hob looked at the sculpture again more closely. “What, in the Dreaming?”

“No,” said Dream, placing the thing on Hob’s desk. While he was happy with the end result of the work, his interest in it was rapidly waning. Unlike his creations in the Dreaming, this sculpture was not alive, it did not move and think and affect the world around it, and there was little of interest in something so static. Unlike the Dreaming, where he had to focus on crafting the right dream, the right nightmare, had to be cognizant of the end result, here, the interest was solely in the creating. “Out of clay.”

He wandered over to Hob’s bookshelf, pulling out a text he hadn’t seen on the shelf before and flopping down on the couch to page through it. He held a vague awareness of all books that had been written, found them drifting in humanity’s subconscious, but he had hardly read all of them with attention.

Hob had picked up the sculpture and was now staring at it, running a finger along the delicate, glazed wings. “You’re really just going to drop an expert-level sculpture on my desk and go lie on the couch?”

“What else am I to do with it?”

“What--? Where--?” Hob spluttered. Dream really didn’t know what was so perplexing. “Dream!”

Dream just raised an eyebrow at him.

Hob sighed and put the sculpture back down, delicately. He came over and perched on the couch by Dream’s hip, taking Dream’s hand in his own. “Every day a new facet of you,” he murmured. “I guess I just didn’t realize you were an artist.”

“I create dreams.”

“I know, but I didn’t make the connection with human artforms.” Hob smiled at him ruefully. “Doesn’t help that you’ve been hiding these skills all this time.”

“I have not frequently indulged in art in the waking world, in the past,” Dream admitted. “At the time, it did not seem valuable, when there were dreams to create. I have inspired more art than I have made.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have.” Hob nudged him teasingly. “So many times, in centuries past, I’d be wandering in a gallery and find a painting or a sculpture that I’d swear was of you.”

Most of the limited time Dream had spent in the waking world had been around artists. Occasionally, he had deigned to serve as a more direct form of inspiration. “I am certain you were right.”

“Well, those artists might have gotten to paint your portrait, but I got you to take a selfie wearing cat ears, so—”

“Hob Gadling—”

Hob leaned down and cut him off by kissing him, warm and fleeting. “Tell me about your sculpture.”

Dream tugged him down so Hob, too, was lying on the couch, half blanketing his body. He liked the weight of Hob over him, it reminded him that this was the plane of the physical. As did working with the clay.

“It was… a satisfying exercise,” he said.

Hob propped himself up on one elbow to look at him. “Really? That’s what you have to say about your masterpiece?”

“The finished piece is unimportant,” argued Dream. “If I want to create a masterpiece, I will make it of dreams.”

“Alright, so why are you doing it, then?”

Dream thought how best to articulate the many sensations that arose in him when he created – and how it was different with the physical media of this world, in comparison to dreams. “In the Dreaming, I create with my will. I shape the Dreaming to my needs. It is part of me, and it responds. This is not true of material in this world. It is outside of me, and I must learn to communicate with it. I must remember… how it is to be physical.”

Using his hands… it was not that Dream never sculpted by hand in the Dreaming. But guiding thought and fear and whimsy into a being with the gentle touch of his fingers was so different from feeling the earthy weight of the clay resisting his attempts to shape it. Clay was earth, absolute physicality, the opposite of dreaming. And Dream felt electric and brazen daring to mold it.

“I appreciate the unique challenge,” he concluded.

Hob was still looking at him, a fond look having taken over the question in his eyes. He kissed the corner of Dream’s mouth. “You are a wonder,” he sighed.

Then his expression shifted.

“Hang on. Is that the class you’ve been sneaking off to? Sculpture?”

“Beginner sculpture,” Dream told him solemnly.

“BEGINNER--? Jesus Christ. The other students are going to throw you out a window!”

Dream considered the prospect. “That would be amusing.”

“Are you actually following the class?” Hob asked. He still seemed scandalized by the idea of Dream ‘taking’ classes. “Or are you just doing whatever you want?”

Dream tilted his head at him. What do you think?

“Menace,” Hob scolded, fondly. “Why do you even have to go to a class? Couldn’t you, like, steal some clay from someone’s dream?”

“I could. But do not both you and my sister insist on me interacting with humanity more often? I am interacting with humanity.” Or, being in its presence, at any rate. Dream rarely interacted with anyone unless approached first. He would rather stay absorbed in his clay. “Besides, I have found it is good, once in a while, to do things outside of the Dreaming.”

“Ah. So that’s the real homework you’re working on.”

Dream played with Hob’s hair. “Mmm. But it is no hardship.”

Hob took the hint and bent again to kiss him, shifting to lie more fully over him. He cradled Dream’s head in one hand. Dream slipped his hands up under Hob’s shirt. This, too, was a good way to remember physicality.

“If you’re going to insist that you don’t care about that statue,” Hob breathed against his mouth, “then I’m going to keep it.”

“Do as you wish,” said Dream. “I will make another soon.”

“Something even more beautiful, I expect.” Hob bit at his lower lip, then soothed over it with his tongue. “But not as beautiful as you.”

“That was trite.”

“Made you blush, though.”

“Only because you affect me too easily,” said Dream, an admission that Hob looked delighted to have gotten out of him.

“It might be trite, but it’s also true. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen on this earth.”

Dream didn’t know how Hob managed to say such things without it sounding like exaggeration or falsehood, but it did not. “I am not truly on this earth. Or of it. You may have to broaden your parameters.”

Dream was not part of this world. But recently, he had been remembering – or perhaps relearning – that through its creatures, their dreams, their thoughts, their fears and hopes, this world was part of him. He remembered it when he looked at the clay staining his hands. He remembered it when he listened to Hob speak.

“Oh, on the contrary, love—” Hob kissed his jaw and spoke against the skin there— “you must be on this earth because you are the realest part of it. Sometimes I think you are the only true thing I’ve ever known.”

Dream smiled, turning Hob’s face back to him and looking at him from under his lashes. “But that, Hob Gadling, is only because you have always been a dreamer.”

#silly rabbit au #aka #the sugar baby au #and also #maximum CHAOS crack au #and artist dream #which i have a terrible soft spot for #dreamling #dreamling fic #my writing #dream of the endless #hob gadling #ask #anonymous

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crowbawt · 4 months

Text

I really should be sleeping but my anxiety so instead here's a very long disjointed post with thoughts about the Man in the Wall after playing Whispers

Spoilers obviously

So the climax of the quest was us somehow holding back Mr. Big Indifference using a memory of love. And it makes sense, because what is the opposite of Indifference towards others? Caring about them. Which is kind of our (Tenno) entire thing. To Take Away Its Pain, etc. There's also Rell, who was also able to hold back Wally, and how he was alienated by his peers and even Marghulis, and the Orokin society who feared and shunned him and didn't treat him as a fellow human being deserves to be treated. As some of the Red Veil blood scrawls in his quest put it, "What is evil, but indifference?" It works quite well, thematically. But Warframe doesn't really restrict itself to a singular, direct approach to invoking its themes. Shit's got layers. Which leads me to believe there may be other layers here, too. And at this point, I'm really not convinced that Wally is so simple as the cosmic idea of Indifference towards others, or even a personification of fear and other 'dark' aspects of the human condition. I mean, I believe he is partially that, we do get that dialogue from Sythel "The first scholar looked into the Void and felt fear, and that fear took form. That's how all this started." Albrecht also refers to himself as the "Father of fears" in his notes somewhere (I forgor) But... Fear is not Indifference. And the Man in the Wall not only shows great interest in many things (like Albrecht, and our Tenno) but he also shows a great deal of emotion. He is described by Duviri citizens as hungry, greedy, jealous. He has feelings, and he has a great deal of them. A being born of fear and indifference towards others doesn't really describe what we've seen of him very well. What Wally has been shown as time and time again is instead: a mirror. Our reflection. So here's the rhetorical question I'd like to ask: If Albrecht gazed into the grand cosmic mirror of existence, and his first reaction was fear, well... it wasn't really the Void he was afraid of, was it?

...Which probably doesn't seem like a point worth all this build up, considering how during the quest, Albrecht's flaw of showing indifference to others (Loid, specifically) is brought up a few times. Albrecht looked into the Void, his Indifference and fear seeped in, and the result was Wally. Makes perfect sense. To which I say, look at the scrollbar to the side of this post because I have soooooo much more bullshit to spew about my thoughts on this. Anyway. I've seen some theorizing that we're probably going to "defeat" the Man in the Wall by forgiving him or otherwise reaching out and showing him love, similar to the way we helped Umbra. Love will triumph over Indifference. And that makes sense and feels very Warframe and I do think that will happen. Buuuuut I don't think it's the only thing that's going to happen. Because if something is destroyed or undone by love, doesn't that... kind of undermine the message of loving an ugly, broken thing? Doesn't having the ultimate villain be some abstract space monster elder god representing pure un-love kind of jar with the very personal, human focus of Warframe's storylines? I don't think this is a Love vs. Indifference Pokemon typing match-up here, I don't think the Love requiem word is going to defeat the Indifference requiem word like a game of rock paper scissors. That would be too trite. Besides, it's not Wally's Indifference, really. It's Albrecht's.

And I've seen a lot, a lot of speculation that Wally "is" Albrecht, just a very derived evil alternate of him, and maybe Albrecht manages to convert himself into Wally as some kind of self-fulfilling quantum time-loop, becoming the reflection that reached out to his own self. It makes a lot of sense, what with the "We End as We Began" thing, and us encountering doppelganger smiley Albrecht in the quest. It works, thematically. This very well could be the answer and it wouldn't be bad storytelling per se.

However, for reasons I am not sure how to articulate at 3 am, I honestly kiiiiiind of hate it. It is not an ending to this that I'd be personally very satisfied with. Again, this doesn't mean it would be bad story-telling, or that other people wouldn't find it satisfying, it's just me and how I like my eldritch horror to be. So I choose to speculate other possibilities up until the point I am proven wrong, and if I am I promise to not be too annoyingly butthurt about it. Promise. Here's my preferred take: I think the "Great Indifference" name for The Man in the Wall is a massive red herring. I think it relates far more meaningfully to what he actually is if you instead interpret it as "undifferentiated."

As in, the Void is a massive roiling quantum soup of all possible outcomes that could exist, but don't--to us. Specifically, us, as in our unique conscious POV, or "personal timeline" or "Chain of Khra" or quantum observer "cone of light" or whatever you want to call it. We are a 3rd dimensional ant stuck walking down a Mobius strip of cause and effect, and the Void is everything that we can not perceive from our tiny tiny window of specific probability variables. We are unable to "change the frame," as Euleria puts it, and I interpret that as "frame of reference."

While a lot of the differences are more... semantic than anything, Eternalism is not actually just Warframe's funny in-universe stand-in name for the Multiple Worlds Interpretation of Reality. This is a whoooooole another post worth of word vomit I won't get into now but Warframe did not come up with Eternalism it's an actual established thing that they're referencing.

The Void is everything, all at once. And if something is everything, in a way it is also... nothing. No contrast, no ups and downs, no loss, no birth, no death, no questions, and no mysteries to ponder. Joy is the same as sorrow, alive is the same as dead, "change" as a broad concept is impossible. If there is an opposite of human consciousness, of being alive and having lived, that's the closest thing I can think of.

There's a reason why the Void is shown in stark black and white until we put color into it... and in his original logs, Albrecht speaks of "scintillating vapor pouring out of my very skull." Human consciousness, our "light," (and the meaning of Albrecht's name, and the significance of us accidentally offering to let Wally "take our light" in the New War, etc) interacting with and reacting with the raw potential of the Void. It makes sense with the Wall being a bleak brutalist expanse of unmoving bone and dust, too. That could Wally's original, natural state: a solid block of grey, meaningless everything. It would explain his jealousy of us, why he takes our appearance, echoes aspects of our personalities, uses our voices, picks at our memories and experiences. It's why he's fascinated with us. It is the one thing he isn't, the one thing he can not have. Or--at least, couldn't have, before Albrecht's intrusion. This is a side-note, but I find it very interesting that Wally's missing finger seems to have limited him in some way, that now he's constrained by the Chains of Khra, implying that before Albrecht, he was not. Now I'm going to rewind waaay back to the topic of Wally being Albrecht's fear made manifest, and us defeating Wally by showing him love, not violence. Because... I don't think our love is enough to fix things on its own. It isn't us who needs to show him love and understanding. I think it has to be Albrecht.

The syndicate's plotline exploring a group of animals who had consciousness forced upon them, suddenly and violently and without consent, the difficulties they face grappling with it--I think that might echo the origin of the Man in the Wall. Consciousness being forced on not an animal, but the Void. You know the quote, "We are the Universe learning about itself?" Maybe in this case, the universe had a very shitty teacher.

And imagine this consciousness being thrust into the Void, taking form within it as an out-of-control chemical reaction, how might it attempt to communicate with Albrecht, with the first 'other' it ever encountered? Perhaps mirroring his form, speaking in his voice, using an endearing and personal term from his childhood: "Little Bengel?" What if, for those brief seconds, The Man in the Wall was not actively malicious? What if he was reaching towards Albrecht not seeking to trap him in a predatory "deal," but out of a sincere desire for connection? How would if feel then, to have your outstretched hand met with fear, disgust--a rejection so violent that your very fingers are severed by him slamming shut the door, an injury that leaves you weakened. A missing part of yourself, and nothing on your side of the wall to fill that hole with. Well it would make you a little bit bitter, I assume. And if those fingers are then used to perform miracles of science, to serve as the foundation for the triumph of an entire empire... you might feel a bit like you're owed. That bitterness may be compounded by the hypocrisy of it all, because all that you showed Albrecht was his own reflection. You might start to fixate on that hypocrisy, on those human flaws, on the parts of him that he didn't want to see. The reflection that he ran from, but further warped to emphasize what he tries to ignore. His shadow self. And so you haunt him with his shadow, because you want him to be forced to see. To acknowledge those parts of him he wishes he wasn't, but you're everything: you know. You won't let him ignore you, to deny you. You are now a jealous, bitter thing. A hungry ghost. You shove these flaws and bits of self-hatred back in his face because you want to make him look at them. To look in the mirror. ....To look at you. To acknowledge you exist. To see you as a thinking, feeling being. And I do think our Tenno are capable of this. To see the Man in the Wall not as "The Other," but as Another. The opposite of Indifference. I think that will be an important part of our story. But our story is not all of the story. It was not just any memory of love that drove back the Indifference, it was Albrecht's love. Unfortunately, I don't think Albrecht as we know him is capable of this, at least not as he is. He speaks of Wally as a malicious force, a cosmic evil that must be fought and only he is brilliant enough to figure out how. Even now, he refers to his reflection only with terms of disgust and shame. For all his monologues about guilt and his grand designs of martyrdom... he still thinks only in terms of himself. He thinks he understands his own guilt, and Wally delights in demonstrating all the ways that he does not. "If I must be a demon, may I be an honest one." That statement is, itself, dishonest. Albrecht is not a demon. He is human.

And that's what he's so deeply, violently afraid of admitting, the fear the entire Orokin civilization built itself on top of as foundation. I believe that is the fear that manifested in The Man in the Wall. And THAT is the kind of cosmic horror I want to see, while also feeling very Warframe. Crossing my fingers we get something closer to this and not just Albrecht accidentally (or purposely?) becoming an evil quantum demon. There's actually like. A whole other section to this I was going to yammer on about but it's now 4:30 AM and whooopppsssssssss

#well having something to focus on does help anxiety brain so #wild and presumptuous speculation that probably only seems clever to me because of sleep deprivation #giant text wall. man in the text... wall. sorry #sorry for all of this #warframe spoilers #[the man in the wall]#[loreframe predictions]

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andydrysdalerogers · 1 year

Text

Can I Count on Your Love? ~ Chris Evans

Pairings: Chris Evans x F!Reader

Summary: Its been a year since the events of "Can I Count on Your Vote?" and you and Chris have some adult fun. But others decide its time for you two to end and one photo could destroy you both...

Word Count: 6.8k

Song: Adore You by Harry Styles

Warnings: Smut! Angst! Language, jealous, Chris in political mode, P in V, committed relationship, oral (M and F receiving), car sex,

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day everyone. This is a follow up to my other one shot which you can find here.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

Politics is a cat and mouse game. You are either chasing someone to bring them down or you are on the chopping block.

Being the youngest senator made you the easy target, someone that the old guard hated for changing the status quo.

Chris loved how ambitious, tenacious, strong, driven, and beautiful you were. You would both lay for hours in bed, talking about how you both would change the world. Chris had no aspirations to be in office, but you had the ultimate goal in mind: being the first female president. Germany had done it, Great Britain has female prime ministers, so why couldn’t we do it here?

It was especially significant as the press and other political analysts were predicting that you could be the one to pull it off. The ASP chat helped launch your first bill about student debt in Congress, gaining the following of many around the country. It was touted as the first major move toward a potential historical presidential run. Chris said that ASP was doing even better because it was now being legitimized by everyone as a great source of verified information. That was his goal, to have a clean source of information for his fellow citizens.

Speaking of Chris, it's been about a year since you had decided to make it official. Well as official as it could be seen, it was still a secret to most of the world. After the ASP Chat on tuition went viral, a lot of speculation was made on whether the two of you were together due to the intense chemistry seen in the interview. But your teams made sure you were never photographed together; rendezvous were made on the low. Mostly it was you and Chris or your families hanging inside the gates of Chris’s house or your heavily secured apartment in either California or DC. It was tough but you both made it work.

Gearing up for the next session of Congress, you were reviewing your schedule with Steve, your assistant, when your receptionist, Ava, came in with a huge bouquet of roses. There were at least three dozen in different shades of red, white and pink. You smiled, knowing it was probably from Chris. Ava sits them down in the corner of your desk. “There’s a note, ma’am.”

You plucked the little card with a smile as your team waited patiently.

I know your secret.

And a photo floated out of the envelope.

Your smile froze and slowly morphed into fear. “Steve, I need the head of my security detail. Now. Ava, I need Chris and Megan as well.” They scurried from the room as you stared at the little card. You tried to swallow, get your breathing to calm as you noticed you were beginning to hyperventilate. The room began to tunnel as you tried to think of how anyone would know. As the phone began to ring, the room wobbled slightly. You could hear Ava say it was Chris, who was in town for ASP. You picked it up. “Chris?”

“Hey Baby.” When all he heard was a sob, he began to panic. “Baby? YN? YN! Answer me.”

“They saw us,” you whispered.

And the room went black.

A month prior…

“Chris, stop!” You squealed as Chris’s hand drifted higher and higher up the skirt of your dress. You had managed to have a private dinner at little Greek diner in Boston and Chris was driving you back to his house. Well, he was driving and coping a feel up your dress. He was horny, seeing you in his favorite little black dress and heels. He loved that you didn’t wear a lot of makeup either, just that gorgeous red lip that set off your exquisite eyes. Eyes that he saw the first time on stage in the California sun.

“Baby, you can’t wear this dress and not expect me to keep my hands to myself,” Chris said as you batted his hands away.

“You can wait until we get home and then I can let you know what’s underneath this dress,” you said with bite to your lower lip.

Chris groaned as his cock twitched. “Fuck me, sweetheart. I don’t think I can make it.” He saw a darken alley and pulled over.

“What do you think you are doing?” You looked around to see it was so dark you couldn’t see the trees or the road once Chris shut off the lights. Even your security team wasn’t in sight.

“I need to feel you, beautiful. I need to be inside you and I can't wait.” He leaned over and kissed you hard, taking your breath away, distracting you from the fact he took off your seatbelt. His hands, his large, gorgeous hands grip your waist and lower to your ass, lifting you and sliding you onto his lap. You gasp as you feel how hard he is underneath you. He groans at how hot you feel over his erection. “Jesus, baby.”

“Chris,” you moan as he begins to assault your neck, the brush of his beard rubbing your delicate skin just the right way.

Chris raised his hands all the way up your skirt, his nimble fingers on his right finding your heat while his left continued upwards to your breast. He dipped his hand inside your panties to find you hot and wet for him. “Oh honey, all for me,” as he swirled your leaking juices around your lips, just brushing your clit and making you jolt.

“All for you, my love,” you groan as he speeds up his motions, now tweaking your breast, hardening the nub as you begin to grind in his lap.

“Fuck sweetheart, I need to have you,” he whispers in your ear. He pulls his hand from your heat, listening to you whimper from the loss of his fingers. He quickly undoes his belt and his fly as you continue fondling your own breast. He pulls down his jeans and boxers enough to release his long thick cock and pump a few times before he moves your now soaked panties aside and thrust up into your pussy.

“Chris!” The stretch was incredible, the pleasure and pain mixing in a way that you had never felt before. The primal way Chris just rutted up into you was so different but oh so good. He took a hold of your hips to guide you up and down his shaft hard.

“Just like that baby, ride me hard. Let me fuck you senseless,” he growled. It was rough, it was fast. It was everything. The ribbons of pleasure started to ripple in your belly as your core began to grip his cock every time you moved. He sat up a little bit more, changing the angle and he was there. Hitting that spot inside that always made you see stars.

“Baby, I can’t...”

“Let go Senator,” he whispered in your ear. “Let me feel you. Soak me, love.” He thrusted up hard as he pulled you down.

“Chris!” You scream as you blacked out from the immense pleasure. Your head tilted back as Chris pressed his face into your chest as he chased his own end. He could barely move with how tight you had gotten with your own orgasm, and it was enough for him to swear loudly as he came inside you.

It took a minute to come down, Chris kissing your shoulder, neck, forehead until he felt your body start to relax. “Are you ok?”

She smiled but flinched when he moved slightly. “I’m ok. That was intense.”

Chris frowned, worry overcoming. “Did you not like...”

“I loved it, Chris. I like it rough and dirty sometimes. Don’t worry baby. I’m ok.” You kissed his forehead to smooth out the worry lines on his face. “Right now, I’m trying to figure out how to get back in my seat without making more of a mess.” You could feel the wetness that is getting ready to seep out.

That got Chris to chuckle. “Don’t worry baby. Once we get home, the gates close and no one is the wiser.” He kissed you softly this time. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

You got back into your seat as Harry Styles's Adore You started to play as Chris started the car. He took your hand and held it as he drove. He hummed along until he turned to you and sang...

Oh, honey (ah) I'd walk through fire for you Just let me adore you

Present...

“Sweetheart? YN? Can you hear me?”

It was the sweetest voice you knew. The voice of the man you loved. It was the only soothing thing your senses could understand. The rest was painful. Your head was pounding, your body ached, the blood pounding in your ears. After a moment, the soothing voice was now followed but gentle touches in your hair. Finally, your throat felt like it would accept air and allow you to speak. Your eyes fluttered and a groan escaped your mouth.

“Baby? Are you with us?”

The light was harsh in the room. Your office. Was your office always so bright? It took a couple of blinks of your eyes before you could focus and see Ava, Steve, Robert (your head of security) and Chris, who held your head in his lap. “Hi?”

“Hi. How are you feeling?”

“Sore, a little confused. What happened?”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “You fainted while on the phone with me.” He helped you sit up as Ava passed a glass of water. “Baby, what happened?”

You looked at the arrangement of roses and began to cry. “Someone sent me those with a note and a photo.” Robert went to the desk and saw everything on the floor. His eyes widened as he looked back at you.

“Miss YLN, I don’t...”

“How did they get that Robert? You told me we weren’t being followed. We weren’t even seen.”

Chris frowned. “Can I see that?” Robert handed the note and photo over. Chris saw and sucked in his breath. It was clearly a photo of you and him in the car from that night. You were still in Chris’s lap as Chris held you by your neck, kissing you. “Holy fuck.”

“What are we going to do Chris?”

“I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair. He pulled out his phone and messaged Megan about an emergency meeting. “We are going to meet at your house with Robert, Megan and your chief of staff and we are going to figure this out.”

You nod, because it’s the sensible thing to do. But your heart felt fear, your head was on the metaphorical chopping block.

Later that night, both of your teams gathered in your dining room.

Megan looked at the picture and sighed. “Can one of you explain what happened?”

Chris cleared his throat and explained the dinner and pulling over and just having a moment of unadulterated love between himself and you. “We thought we were alone. I mean, I didn’t even see her security team. It was just one moment.”

Rachel, your chief of staff, was taking notes and scoffed. “Yeah, well, that one moment has the potential of going viral.

“Can you even tell it's us?” Chris asked.

Robert looked at the photo. “It’s a blurry photo. It has deniability to it unless the photographer has cooperating evidence of who is in the car. I’m going to sit down with the security team from that night and find out what happened.”

“And I think that we shouldn’t do anything unless there is an obvious threat,” Rachel said. I mean right now it’s someone saying they know but it doesn’t mean it’s someone from the other side. I say we wait it out. Jumping to action may be worse at this point.”

“I agree.” Megan looked at the photo. “Reaction would be bringing a spotlight to you two when it's not needed.”

You didn’t realize you were trembling until Chris took your hand and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. “Baby, what do you think?” When you didn’t answer, Chris placed his hand on your cheek to get you to focus on him. “YN, sweetheart, it's gonna be ok. Do you think this is a good plan?” You looked into the ocean blues that comforted you so many times before. They looked resolute in the decision, and you trusted that. You nodded but still a single tear slipped. “Honey, what is it?”

“I’m scared,” you whispered.

Chris’s heart dropped. He didn’t want his girl to be scared, not his brave warrior girl. He sucked in a breath to steady himself before he said, “Don’t be. I’ll be right by your side. Don’t you worry.” He kissed your forehead before he kissed your lips and kept his forehead against yours, your breaths mixing together as you both tried to keep calm.

A few weeks later, everything seemed to be back to normal. There were no more flowers, no other notes. You and Chris talked every day, just as before. You were on the phone with the governor of California when Rachel ran into the office. Flustered would have been the nice word to use. She looked like she had been tossed by a tornado. “Sorry governor, I have to be on the floor in a few minutes. Send my office the proposal and I’ll see what I can do to get this to the committee. I think you're right; we need to beef up the national parks act, and it should start with Yosemite.

“Thank you, Senator. We’ll see you for the Lunar New Year celebrations?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Have a great day!” You hung up and looked at Rachel. “What’s going on?”

“I’m so sorry Senator, it broke.” She handed over her tablet

“What broke?” You took the tablet and focused on the screen. And there it was, in full color was the photo. With an amazing headline:

DOES THE RISING STAR FRESHMEN SENATOR HAVE A SIDE JOB IN BOSTON? – IS THE HOT SHOT SENATOR FROM CALIFORNIA TRADING FAVORS FOR DONATIONS?

You blanched as you scroll through the article. It was still speculation that it was you but that it was clear from the photo that someone was caught in a compromising position inside of a car. The news site was still looking for more information, but an anonymous source implicated the Senator from California as the woman in the photo.

You could hear the office phones ringing as the screen blurred in your eyes. You read the article title over and over, wishing it would change to anything else, anyone else. Rachel could see you were starting to lose it as she was on the phone with someone.

“I've got to get out of here,” you whispered. It was like your body was now on automatic pilot. You stood up, grabbed your coat and bag and headed out the door. Your security team was trying to stop you, but you made it out the front door of your office to a barrage of flashes. The press was already all over the scandal, shouting questions and taking pictures of what would be a rather stunned face. Security from your office and the Capitol police surrounded you to allow you to walk to your waiting SUV. Rachel had been right behind you, shouting no comment as you walked trance-like. Robert had the door open for you and Rachel before climbing in the front and your usual driver, Edward, took off.

“Senator? Senator, look at me.” You turned your face slowly towards her. “I am going to get you through this. I’m trying to reach Chris or Megan to find out if it leaked from their camp.”

All you could do was nod. Four years of campaigning and working with other bi-partisan members was going down the drain as your phone kept pinging with more and more news outlets reporting the story. It was the ultimate nightmare.

The only solace was the security at your home. Gate controlled, security had called the police to make sure the road was cleared, and cameras were everywhere. But it provided very little comfort. All you wanted was Chris, but he was on set at the moment. Rachel was pacing, calling who she could to pull the story as you sat on your couch, leg bouncing, checking your phone every five minutes. After two hours, a call came to Rachel.

“Yeah. Hi Stacy... Yes, we saw it... No, we haven’t... What do you mean?... That's not what he promised her... What does Megan... oh... well what is she... ok... I’ll tell her. Thanks.” Rachel hung up and sat down next to you. “YNN, that was Stacy, Megan’s assistant at her firm. Umm, she stated that Megan and she talked to Chris, and they aren’t going to be making a statement. Since no one knew you two were in a relationship, there was no need to drag Chris into it.”

“What?” You breathed. “He... he promised to stand by me.”

“I know sweetie but that’s what they have decided.”

Your head spun. You wouldn’t believe that Chris would do this. He didn’t even have the guts to tell you himself. You picked up your phone and sent him a message.

YN: We just spoke to your management firm and know about your decision. I thought we loved each other but I guess I was mistaken. Don’t worry I won’t drag you into this. Goodbye Chris.

You went through your contacts and blocked his number. You did the same on your socials and put your phone down. “Rachel, what is the statement we want to put out?” You put on your game face. Your heartache and tears could come later.

The next day, Rachel called a press conference in front of your office. You chose to be yourself in a sharp black suit with a pink blouse and black heels. It was your confident outfit, and you would need every ounce of it to make the statement you needed to make. The makeup artist touched up your face and then it was time.

“Good morning, let me first address the photo. Yes, I did engage in some intimate acts with someone in a vehicle. To protect their privacy, I will not be naming my partner ever. Second, my security team is launching an investigation into the photo as we know it was not a member of the press who invaded my private moment.” You took a breath, “I should have had better judgement in where I had my intimate relations at and used better judgement overall. The blame for this is on me alone. If my constituents are upset by my actions, I sincerely apologize. I have strived to be an example to everyone and in this case, I wish I wasn’t. The man I was with is no longer in my life and I would like to extend my apologies to him for this transgression. I will be meeting with the chair of the Senate ethics committee for all punishments and/or reprimands that I have earned. Thank you.

You walked away from the media circus and back to the seclusion of your office. As you sat, Rachel came to give you a hug. Now you can mourn. And you did just that.

Chris’s POV

The person you are trying to reach is not accepting calls at this time.

Chris looked at his phone, heartbroken. You had blocked him. Chris watched the press conference playback with mixed emotions. He was so proud of you for standing up and accepting responsibility, but he should have been by your side making his own statement. He looked at the last message he received and called Megan. “What the hell, Megan! Why are we not standing next to her?”

“Chris you are filming, and I hadn’t even had a chance to talk to you before her team advised us that she was going to make a statement.”

“Who did they talk to?”

Megan waited for a beat. “Stacy. Look Chris...”

“Megan, I want her fired. I told you she had been inappropriate with me multiple times and now this. She wanted YN to break up with me because she thought I would go out with her. I am in love with YN, and she just fucked that up!”

“I know Chris, I’m sorry. I’ll fix it.”

“How? She blocked me, she’s angry. She...” he took a breath because his body was vibrating with pain, “she took that bullet for me all alone. Her entire career... she did that for me.”

“Chris, we will fix it okay? Let me handle Stacy.”

“I want to be there Megan. I want to see her face when I say that I am in love with YN. I need YN back, Megan.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll make the arrangements.”

Chris hung up and looked though the pictures on his phone. His perfect girl. Fuck, he was the one who pulled over, but she was the one taking the hit. As he slid through the pictures, one floated by. Her calendar. He sat up straighter and a plan came to his head.

A couple of days later, Chris was back in Boston and sitting in Megan’s conference room. Megan was sitting next to him, both in silence as they waited for the last member of their meeting to arrive. Stacy walked in confidently, a sway in her hips as if she knew Chris would be there and finally ready to declare that he too was also “in feelings” with her. After all, they had softly flirted when he was in the office. They had coffee together. He liked her and this was her moment. She flicked her hair back as she sat across from them. “You wanted to speak to me.”

“Yeah, we had a question. Who gave you the photo of YN in the car?” Megan asked.

Stacy’s smile faltered slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Did you know that all of your emails from your work computer are monitored? Since that last hack, I had IT put in the monitoring service.”

At that Stacy’s smile fell. “What?”

“So, before we send this information to DCPD and congressional security, who gave you the photo?”

Stacy blanched as she looked from Megan to Chris. “Mike, one of the senator’s security guards gave it to me.”

“Interesting. And why did you give it to gossip mags?”

“To break YN and Chris up. She took what I wanted.” Chris scoffed as he stood up and walked to the door. “Chris please! I’m sorry but I thought we had something!”

“When? During the scheduled meetings or when you were helping Megan on the red carpet. I am in love with YN. I hope she presses charges for the invasion of privacy. Megan?”

“Oh, right. You’re fired, for cause. You signed a non-disclosure agreement for our clients and their families which you violated the minute you sent the photo to the magazine. Security is outside to escort you out. Your personal belongings will be searched before they are mailed out to you.”

“No, please...”

“Have a good day Stacy,” as security walked in, and Chris and Megan walked out and headed to her office. “I don’t know about you, but I need a drink.” She headed to her sideboard and poured two glasses of whiskey, handing one to Chris. “Have you been able to get a hold of YN?”

Chris shook his head. “No, she’s blocked me from everything. I got in touch with Rachel, but she said that YN has a ‘no calls allowed’ for me with her team.” Chris took a swallow. “Said YN has been crying a lot in her office.”

“Oh Chris,” Megan frowned.

“This is all my fault Megan. I pulled over and I convinced her.”

“Chris, this wasn’t your fault. You are still human. You are still allowed to have fun. You both weren’t expecting someone you both trusted to violate your privacy. You have every right to be angry. You have every right to be sad that your relationship was broken by jealous people. But you cannot blame yourself. We are going to fix this, and we are going to get your girl back. Are you ready to do anything to show her you love her?”

Chris laughed. “I would do anything to win her back.”

Your POV

It was a few weeks after “picture-gate” and you were getting ready for the Valentine’s Day charity event. An event where you were supposed to make your debut with Chris. Who is now your ex. “Fuck me,” you mumble to yourself. You look in the mirror, seeing a woman who kinda looks like you, if she didn’t have red-rimmed eyes, shallow looking cheeks and a sad look on her face. It had been hell without him. You never realized how much comfort Chris brought to you. How his strong arms held you close to his chest, his heartbeat your lullaby, his voice a song. You missed him desperately, but he didn’t want to stand next to you. It makes you question whether he lied about being with a strong woman.

You shake yourself and inspect your dress. The theme was love, obviously, so you had chosen a red gown, strapless with a sweetheart neckline. It was tight in the bodice until it hit your waist and then flowed out in layers of chiffon. Heels and diamond studs completed the look with soft waves framing your face. You sighed, wishing he had been there to see it, the dress you picked with him in mind. But he would never be there, he wouldn't come back. He made his choices.

As you arrived at the gala, sans date, you thought back to the last few weeks. The person who took the photo was found, Mike, and fired. Mike had been one of your personal guards since you started. Apparently, when questioned, he took the photo to create a scandal because he was obsessed with you and wanted Chris out of the way. Mission accomplished, you guessed, but not in the way he wanted. Charges were filed, restraining orders in place, a press release later, and the scandal died out. Some of the old guards still avoided you but the party and your constituents stood by you. They held support rallies and feminist movements. You were a woman, yes, but you should have been treated like a man. It warmed your heart a bit in the days post Chris.

Arriving alone, you walked the press line, dodging questions that wanted to bring back the scandal and headed into the venue. Your date, who walked in alone as well was waiting. As patient as ever for Rachel, who is never patient. Dinner was lovely, the jazz band playing romantic tunes. You mingled with other donors and attendees, making the most out of the evening. Finally, the special, surprise guest performer was announced.

The host of the evening introduced Grammy award winning artist Harry Styles to the stage. You loved him and sang along. It was quite the performance, Harry doing all of his hits. You sway with the music, a glass of champagne keeping you warm. As Harry ends, Watermelon Sugar, the crowd cheers.

“How is everyone doing?” Harry asks and the crowd cheers in response. Pushing his hair out of his eyes, Harry takes a breath. “So, I got a call from a guy who wanted to let a girl know how much she means to her. See he messed up and asked me to help him tell his girl he adores her. You don’t have to say anything honey, just know he would walk through fire for you and he’s sorry that you had to walk alone. This song is for her.”

You weren’t really paying attention; the words were beautiful, but you didn’t want to be a part of someone else’s declaration of love. As Harry’s Adore You began to play, you felt a tear in your eye. This was the last thing Chris had sung to you.

Walk in your rainbow paradise (paradise) Strawberry lipstick state of mind (state of mind) I get so lost inside your eyes Would you believe it?

You don't have to say you love me You don't have to say nothing You don't have to say you're mine

Honey (ah) I'd walk through fire for you Just let me adore you Oh, honey (ah) I'd walk through fire for you Just let me adore you Like it's the only thing I'll ever do Like it's the only thing I'll ever do

You sway to the music, eyes closed, losing yourself to the music but the crowd starts to part as the spotlight follows a person across the floor. As the last person parts, a gasp runs through the crowd, and you open your eyes.

And Chris is there, in a black tux, holding a single red rose.

You look around to see if he is looking at anyone else but no, it's you. He walks over and takes the champagne glass from your hand. “Chris...”

“Not yet,” he whispers as he pulls you into his arms. He starts to move you across the dance floor.

You're wonder under summer skies (summer skies) Brown skin and lemon over ice Would you believe it?

You don't have to say you love me I just wanna tell you somethin' Lately you've been on my mind

“Chris,” you whisper. “What are you doing?”

“Shh. Baby, just let me adore you.” He spins you around and back taking a hold of you again, the only two people on the dance floor.

I'd walk through fire for you Just let me adore you Oh, honey (ah) I'd walk through fire for you Just let me adore you Like it's the only thing I'll ever do (Ah) I'd walk through fire for you Just let me adore you Oh, honey (ah) Oh, honey I'd walk through fire for you Just let me adore you

oh, honey (Oh) Just let me adore you Like it's the only thing I'll ever do

As the song finishes, he pulls you even closer so your foreheads touch as he sings the last of the lyrics to you. You are trying everything not to sob in front of these people. As the band slows, Chris pulls back slightly. “I didn’t stand next to you. And even though that wasn’t my decision, I still should have made a statement right away. You shouldn’t have done that alone and I am so sorry sweetheart.”

“I just wanted to protect you, Chris.”

“And I just wanted to stand behind my woman.” He swallows, his nerves starting to show a bit. “I had something planned tonight.” He kisses your hand. “We have been together for a while, and it has been the time of my life. I have never been happier. Your dreams are my dreams, and your happiness is mine. I never want to let go. Because I adore you, I’d walk through fire for you.”

He stepped back and knelt to the ground on one knee.

You’re pretty sure you have stopped breathing at this point.

“YNN, I love you so much. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you and all our dreams. Can we take on the world together?” He popped open a little red box holding a stunning princess cut diamond solitaire. “Will you marry me?”

Your face really doesn’t give anything away. It is just a single tear that falls. Chris is starting to think this is a bad idea before he sees the smallest nod, before the biggest smile he has ever seen. It was bigger than when you won your election. “Yes! Yes, Chris yes!” You fall into his arms just as he’s standing. The crowd cheers as he swings you around.

After a moment, he sat you down and took out the ring to slide it onto your finger. You look at it before you look back at your fiancé. He cups your face before he kisses you gently.

And you’re home.

The rest of the night was a blur. The only thing that stood out was the call to your parents. Chris had visited them before flying out to the gala. He sat with your father and explained everything. Your dad was satisfied that his little girl was in good hands and gave his blessing. As you walked out of the venue, the press was relentless in asking about your and Chris’s relationship. Rachel and your security team keep them at bay as Chris keeps his arm around you, your head resting against his chest. He got you into the car and Robert drove you away. “I’ve missed you,” you whisper.

“I am so sorry, baby,” Chris pulls so you are seated in his lap, letting you bury your face into his neck. “Mike, he gave the picture to Stacy. She never told us anything about talking to you until it was too late.” He nuzzled into your hair. “I wanted to be here.” He kisses your head. “I never wanted you to do that alone.”

“I shouldn’t have... I should have...”

“Shh, baby, you had no reason to not believe Stacy. I wish you had waited but I still should have made my own statement.” He sighed as he leaned back on the seat and tightened his grip on you. “But that’s the past. You are my future.”

“I can’t believe you proposed.” You stare down at the diamond on your hand. “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“Well, is that the ring I wanted or that I would say yes?”

He chuckled. “Honey, you don’t think I didn’t noticed when you would ‘airdrop’ hints to my phone when I wasn’t paying attention or when we would see jewelry on vacation?” He picked up your hand and played with the ring. “You are never flashy or over the top, but you always sparkle. So, when I went with my sisters and ma shopping, we saw this one and it just said ‘YN.’”

The tears started to well in your eyes again. He really did know you.

“Oh honey, don’t cry.” He cupped your face and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears.

“I’m sorry, just,” you sniff, “it's been so hard without you. And I, I just can’t believe you got Harry Styles to dedicate a song to me, to us. The last time I heard it...” you trail off.

Chris’s face softened. “Was the last time we were together. I remember.” You pulled up to your townhome, and Chris climbed out, holding out his hand for you. As you walked to the door, he whispered in your ear, “I remember that I owed you a better time as well.” He opened the door and you gasped.

Candles, roses, and champagne were waiting for you in your living room. A gentle fire was on in the fireplace, with pillows and blankets laid out on the floor. As you took it in, Chris stood behind you, kissing your neck and shoulders. “I don’t think I told you how beautiful you looked in this dress.” You moan as he trails his fingers over the top of your dress. He nipped at that spot on your neck as he pulled the zipper down, his thick finger trailing down your spine.

“Chris,” you whimper as goosebumps bloom on your skin, his wet, open mouth kisses setting every nerve on fire.

“I want to worship you, my fiancé,” he growled as he let the dress drop, showing him the red lace strapless bra and matching panties and garter belt, you had on. “Fuck me, is this new?”

“I bought it for you, and I never got the chance to wear it for you,” you replied, blushing.

“You are perfection, my love.” He sat in the chair. “Twirl for me.” Still in your heel clad feet, you stood in front of him, just out of his reach and did a slow spin. He growled at your teasing as he reached for you, and you stepped back. “What do you think you are doing, Mrs. Evans?”

“Who said anything about changing my name?” You giggled as his gaze darkened a little. “I’m a little exposed baby. That jacket and shirt needs to come off.”

Chris stood but never took his eyes off of you as he discarded his jacket, tie and shirt, leaving him in just his suit, pants and shoes. “What now, Senator?”

“Sit,” you ordered, and he followed your direction quickly. You grabbed a pillow and kneeled in front of him, sliding your hands up his legs. He shuddered at your touch, leaning his head back as you undid his pants. You tapped his hip so he could raise them, and you pulled down his pants and boxer briefs so his cock could spring out. You wrapped your hand the best you could around the base and pumped, getting his attention back on you. You looked him straight in the eye as you licked the tip that had a bead of precome on it.

“Fuck, YN,” he mumbled as you took the entire head in your mouth, eyes never leaving yours. You worked him, softly at first and then harder, slowing down again, much to Chris’s frustration. As you took him to the back of your throat again, you felt him twitch and suddenly you were on your back on the floor as Chris settled in between your legs. He got your bra off first, then the garter, nipping at your skin the entire time.

“Baby, I...” You really didn’t know what you were trying to say. Your brain was overloaded with the sensations on your skin. Chris was everywhere, everywhere, all at once and it caused the pressure to build. Finally, it was just your panties and heels, but Chris made no move to remove either. He ran his nose up and down your covered pussy, grazing your clit and getting what he wanted: a wanton moan from your mouth.

“I love that sound, love.” Chris grasped the sides of your panties and slowly slid them down your legs and over the heels. “I want these hooked around my ears,” he said. “But for now,” he spread your legs wide, “they can hold you open.” He kissed right on your mound and then dove in with his tongue, eating like a man starved. His hands held your thighs open, not allowing you to find some sort of relief until he could feel you tremble. “Are you close, gorgeous?”

“I’m gonna cum, Chris, please!”

“Cum, YN! Let me drink you in!” His dirty talk always got to you, and it was enough for you to let go, a silent scream coming from your mouth as the world went dark. Chris didn’t stop, making it last longer. He finally slowed and began to kiss up your body. His cock was throbbing, needing to find its own release but he wouldn’t stop until he was buried in you. Finally, he was on top, brushing a strand of hair away, looking down at his future wife, the future mother of his children. He teased your entrance before slowly pushing in. “Are you still...”

“Never stopped,” you replied breathlessly, answering his unasked question about birth control. He bottomed out and you both groaned in relief to be reunited again. He fits perfectly, molded inside of you.

“God, still tight and warm, like I never left.” Chris pulled out slowly before slamming into you. You cried out with each thrust, finally getting the relief you missed. It was slow and torturous but oh, so good.

“Chris, fuck, harder, please!”

“Oh baby,” he cooed. “We have all night.” He sped up his hips to hit your spot inside over and over, but he felt you tighten, gripping him so hard it was becoming hard to move. “Let go baby. Give it to me again. God, this pussy was made for me, gripping me, strangling my cock. Milk me, my fiancé, cum now!” That was it; you cummed hard around him, triggering his own release, “Fuck YES!”

He finally slowed down but never pulled out. He rolled you over, so you were laid out on top of him, and he wrapped a blanket around you both.

“Happy Valentine’s Day Senator.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, future husband.”

The morning headlines were everything Rachel wanted and more. An election to gear up for and a fairytale wedding for the future President and Hollywood’s leading man.

WITNESSING A FAIRYTALE: DC’S GOLDEN GIRL AND HOLLYWOOD’S GUY NEXT DOOR CONFIRM RELATIONSHIP WITH A PROPOSAL!

A/N: I wish this was America’s next royal family of politics. LOL.

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#andy's hea #andy's shenanigans #Chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans fic #Chris Evans au #asp chris #chris evans story #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans x reader #chris evans x you #Chris Evans being a romantic #happy valentine's day #Valentines day chris #adore you

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