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sundaysundaes · 4 years ago

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Before Our Story Began

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff | 7.4k | College AU Summary: The popular new kid at your campus has this habit of raising his eyebrows when he flirts and you just realized that maybe you have a kink for it.

It has the same setting as my previous Mark Lee X Reader’s stories (Our First Time and Drunk Antics) but if you’re not into Mark (I’m not judging but what is wrong with you) you can just skip those two because this story can be read separately.

Before dating the socially-awkward, yet utterly adorable Mark Lee, you have had your fair share of relationships that are now reduced into the form of awkward friendships. Your last boyfriend was Lee Donghyuck—who also publicly known as Haechan—and that fact does not sit well with Mark, because well, they were the best of friends. They still are, but it feels like they’re walking on thin ice whenever you’re in the picture so you try your best to stay away from your ex just to make sure everything is all right with the three of you.

Which is quite weird, knowing how close you were with Haechan before.

It was weird in the beginning, but fate really did play a major role in your relationship. You were in your second year of college and you’d managed to pull yourself together by that time, though you hadn’t really made any real friends yet. You weren’t aware of Mark’s existence either at that point, though he probably had with him being your long-time secret admirer after all. You were too busy trying to adapt to the new college and dormitory life, as well as trying to keep your grades up, that you could barely spend some time socializing with people. Project partners and study buddies were really as far as you could go with the term of friendship during your first year.

Your relationship didn’t exactly start as friends with Lee Donghyuck. Even though he had made tons of friends since his orientation days in college, you were certainly not one of them. You didn’t even know he existed in your world, and neither did he. Younger than both you and Mark, Haechan shone like the sun almost in every aspect of his life and unlike you, people had surely noticed that because he was academically smart, physically good-looking, very social and adventurously funny. It didn’t take long before he became popular at your campus. So popular, in fact, that you heard chatters of his name when you walked down the campus’ hallway with your textbooks in your arms. You had only known his name but not his face, so you didn’t really feel nervous or overly excited like any other girls would’ve probably had when you accidentally sat next to him during public speaking class and saw that he had a silly note stuck on his back, pressed against his black hoodie.

“Hey,” you called, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough so the people around you wouldn’t notice. “You’ve got something on your back.”

The boy was young, and he had the smoothest golden skin you’d ever seen on a boy. You would probably kill to have his perfect sun-kissed skin. He had slightly chubby cheeks and a mop of dark brown hair with bangs falling over his eyes. He was slouching forward in his seat with his arms draped over his table, staring lifelessly at the board. His lower lip was jutting out in boredom and slight annoyance, reminding you of a five-year-old boy missing his favorite cartoon. He threw a glance to the side, looking at you with big, chocolate brown eyes, and his eyebrows raised in question.

“What?” He asked and you pointed to the back of his hoodie with your pen.

“I won’t judge if it’s the kind of thing you’re into,” you said, “but I don’t think placing a note behind your back with the words Spank Me, Mama, written on it is the best way to actually, you know, get it.”

He blushed and he blushed so hard that it made you think huh, he’s kinda cute, but you buried the thought right away. You had promised yourself to focus better that year. Falling head over heels for a fellow student on the first day of your new term was not the right way to do it.

“Right, thanks.” He struggled with the note, reaching behind his back as if his skin was on fire. You were about to help when he finally snatched the paper and read the words under his breath, eyes widening in shock.

“I assume that’s not your handwriting?” You were amused but tried your best not to tease him so much.

He did this pout that actually kind of fit his face, probably because he still had that baby face going on. Most of the guys you knew would look immensely disgusting if they pulled that kind of pout. Take your brother, Johnny, for example. Even the thought of him doing that already made you feel like punching your fist against a wall.

“I would weep myself to sleep if my handwriting was this bad,” he grumbled and you smiled secretly to yourself. He turned to you, an awkward grin painting his face. “Sorry, my friends are assholes. Do you happen to know a swamp nearby where I can dump dead bodies without being found out?”

You nod. “I know a place but it’s no longer free, though. They charge you, like, ten thousand won per body. Which is why I’m broke.”

His timid grin grew into a bright smile, probably feeling quite elated that somebody shared the same type of dumb humor as him. “I’m Lee Donghyuck.” He sneaked a hand under a table and you took it for a handshake, answering him with your name. “Thanks for saving my life.”

“Most welcome. You can save me back later when I have the words spank me, daddy, glued to my back.”

“So your friends are assholes too?”

“It’s what people have in common these days, I suppose.”

But when your professor spoke louder to make sure he didn’t any other noise in the room except his own, you had to cut your conversation short and only threw small grins at him every now and then.

When the class ended, you both parted ways with nothing more than a small wave of a hand and a casual, “Well, I guess, I’ll see you later.” You thought it would be too weird to get even friendlier than that, and he probably did too. You admitted that he was cute, but not cute enough for you to ditch your next class and make out with him in the nearest parking lot. You thought you were going to see him again soon anyway, probably the next week when the same class started.

And you were right, but you wished you weren’t because Donghyuck came back to your class the following week looking like a full-course meal.

Donghyuck probably had his hair cut short somewhere on the weekend and it looked absolutely fucking perfect on his head. His bangs were no longer hiding his eyes, and it was clear to you then that Donghyuck with his forehead seen, combined with those thick beautiful eyebrows and mesmerizing round eyes, were really something to behold.

He didn’t notice you were already in the class when he walked in, with his bag slinging on one shoulder. Some rowdy boys were shouting at the back of the room, “Haechan-ah, over here! Saved you a seat!” And Donghyuck grinned at them, waving his hand before he walked toward their seats and you thought Lee Donghyuck is Haechan?! That Haechan?! And mentally slapped yourself on the face when the flashback hit you. You had the chance to talk to one of the most popular boys in school and you talked about swamp and dead bodies.

Absolutely fucking perfect.

After you managed to collect yourself, you couldn’t hold back this urge to sneak a few glances to the back of the class, trying to catch a glimpse of that beautiful forehead of his—which you realized by then that you had some kind of a kink for it—without having him notice you.

But he did. He did notice every time you tried to secretly stare and he reciprocated each time with a smile, raising one of his eyebrows almost dangerously seductive at you and you thought goddamn if that wasn’t the sexiest thing I’ve seen in my twenty years of living I don’t know what is.

You offered your best effort to stay fucking calm despite everything that had been going on in your head, waving one hand at him with a small—hopefully not creepy—smile on your face. You immediately turned around right after, swallowing your breath, and tried not to vomit because your stomach felt like it was about to lurch out of your mouth. It wasn’t really an unpleasant feeling; it was just kind of new to you and you loathed the way your heart was slamming against your ribcages.

Okay, you mentally calmed yourself, get a hold of yourself. No need to panic. He’s just another cute boy, with a cute haircut, and a cute smirk, and a cute forehead and—

You really didn’t like where it was going.

When the class ended—and you didn’t learn a thing about it—you shoved your iPad back into your bag and let out the loudest sigh you had ever made in your sorry life.

“Bad day?”

Haechan’s voice was next to your ear and though you only jerked slightly on the outside, most of your soul had actually gone to heaven—or hell, from all those dirty thoughts you had about him during the last two hours of that lecture.

“Yeah,” you cooly replied. Thank God, your voice didn’t betray you. “My swamp is full again. I have to start looking for a new place.”

AM I SERIOUSLY TALKING ABOUT ANOTHER FUCKING SWAMP—

But Haechan was laughing about it, not too much but the amusement on his face was genuine. “It’s cute that you remember our previous conversation.”

“It’s cute that you do too.”

“Well, actually, that’s what I’ve been thinking about for the last week,” he told you with a smirk on his face. You dared to bet on your life that he was flirting with you and you were about to scream out of joy but you reminded yourself to play it cool.

“I don’t think it’s a conversation worth remembering,” you commented nonchalantly.

“Not if I had it with anyone else.”

You almost fell from your seat. “On second thought, it was a pretty interesting conversation, what with the—”

“Noona.” He suddenly leaned close, laying one hand on your desk to prop his weight. There was that smirk again—the one with his eyebrow raised. “I’m trying to flirt with you and ask you out on a date, if you haven’t noticed.”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears at that point. You had thought about it—about him asking you out—but your imagination did not do justice on how smooth and confident or how goddamn attractive he looked in real life. “Oh.”

“Oh.” He imitated, smirking a bit wider and you were dazed with how bright he shone. “So, can I take you out for lunch? Not anywhere close to swamps full of dead bodies, I swear.” Then after a small pause, he added, “Unless, that’s what you’re into.”

“Shut up,” you retorted, standing up and gathering all your belongings into your arms. “You’re paying.”

He laughed softly to himself, trailing after you with a cheeky grin on his face. “This swamp thing could be our thing, though.”

“Shut up.”

***

Haechan was not one to take it slow, you remember, which is way different from how Mark does things with you.

It wasn’t like Haechan was overly aggressive—as far as boys go, he was pretty normal about the whole dating and sex thing—but he really just head straight to the point whenever he had something in mind, whether it was by a sudden change of topic in your conversation, or acting it out directly with his body.

While Mark tends to plan things, Haechan just did everything out on a whim. You could be talking about science fiction movies at a cafe at one point, and ended up with having your clothes soaked with water by the next few hours because he suddenly felt like the day was too hot and jumping into the campus pool fully clothed was a good idea. You weren’t sure why you’d said yes to all of that when you just barely knew him but Haechan could be very persuasive. So dangerously so, that you would probably say yes to anything.

It was on your third date when he suddenly bent his head down and cut you in the middle of your sentence with a kiss. It was only a small peck, a quick pressing of his plump lips against yours, but it still managed to literally stop you from breathing for a good couple of seconds.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling away with his eyes still staring at your lips. “I was… distracted.”

You knew it was lust in his eyes and you were familiar with yourself enough to know that you usually preferred to have your first kiss after you knew the guy for a certain amount of time. But Haechan—the way he sometimes stared at your lips for a millisecond while you were talking, or hugged you for a few seconds too long before you parted ways—really made you feel special. Made you feel… wanted. And it had been a long time since someone made you feel that way.

So it really didn’t come too much of a surprise that when he dipped his head down to kiss you again, you responded with as much passion as he emitted. You didn’t care that both of you were still standing in the middle of your co-ed dorm’s hallway, though it was empty from how late it was. You had your fingers tangled in his hair as you tiptoed and leaned your entire weight to his body, making him inhale sharply and curl his fingers around the fabric of your dress.

“Again,” he breathed when you pulled away for a split second and immediately brought you back to him again. Haechan had one arm around your waist and another one holding your face, angling your head to the side so he could kiss you deeper.

Haechan was a good kisser—so frighteningly so that it made you feel conscious of how inexperienced you were compared to him. And with the way his hands were moving around your body, you could tell that things were going a bit too fast.

“Haechan—”

The hand that you laid on his chest to give you both some space, was brought over your head as he pressed your body against the door of your room. He kissed you harder, almost knocking your head against the wooden surface, and you could taste the flavor of the lollipop he had on his way back to your dorm. His scent was intoxicating in the best way possible, numbing your mind from thinking how this could probably end up in a bad decision.

“Haechan-ah, wait,” you gasped against his mouth, and when he did, pulling away from you for a few inches to catch his own breath, you noticed that even if you managed to stop him, you probably wouldn’t sound very convincing.

It was really fortunate that although Haechan was a man of passion, he still had the patience to make your consent his priority. “Too fast?” He asked, warm breath fanning against your lips and you really wanted to just close those few inches between you and be smothered with his kisses again.

So you did, and you could feel him smirking into the kiss. The way he slipped his tongue between your mouth made your knees buckle underneath your weight so you clutched onto him as if you were hanging to dear life. Haechan formed this low grunt at the back of his throat that made your skin tingle in delight, knowing that you had that kind of effect on him.

But really, something still didn’t feel right.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, noticing how you fidgeted uncomfortably under his touch. He looked like stopping at this point would be the last thing he wanted to do but he still gave you the space you needed.

You nodded your head slowly at his question. Haechan looked like he had to put his best effort to gain control of his body and move away from you, and you could totally relate at that point, actually. You weren’t really sure why did you even stop him before. It just felt like the right thing to do but at the same time, it was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Haechannie—"

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step away from you and releasing you from his hold. You were surprised by the fact that you almost fell down to the floor when he wasn’t holding you.

“No, don’t be—it was, umm,” You cleared your throat. The collar of your knitted sweater suddenly felt too tight. “It was good.”

“Good?” Haechan asked, smirking as he raised an eyebrow and you thought fuck there’s that look again and you cursed inwardly a few more times for feeling so whipped for his little, seductive eyebrow raise. “I thought that was more than good, Noona.”

“Probably for you,” you wanted to tease but you could hear your voice crack at the end.

“Oh, really?”

And he kissed you again because he never wanted to lose his game. He knew he already had you wrapped under his fingers; he just wanted to make you succumb to him. To have you say how amazing his touches really felt on your skin because he was just that kind of a guy.

And he was winning. Your reaction was exactly the way he wanted you to be, arching your back under his touch, pressing your chest against his, tongue darting out to taste the inside of his mouth better and longer.

“No, wait, timeout.” You pushed him away again and you noticed that his hair was a mess from the work of your fingers and weirdly enough, it only made him ten thousand times hotter.

“Noona, you’re torturing me.” He whined against your shoulder, playfully biting the skin over your clothes. “Do you want me to stop or not?”

Haechan had the habit of whining when things didn’t go his way. It was immature and it would probably look childishly annoying on someone else, but it only made him that much more adorable. Still annoying most of the time, but always adorable.

“I’m sorry.” You were torn between feeling bad or laughing about it because my God, look at that pout. “Maybe a five-minute break? I could make you some coffee. My roommate is away for the weekend.”

He sighed, the pout on his lips grew even more apparent. “You’re inviting me to your room? At this hour? After this?”

“I’m not going to have sex with you tonight, Lee Donghyuck, just to be clear.”

“Which is the more reason why you shouldn’t be inviting me over then!”

You laughed because his voice was becoming quite high-pitched. “Are you so incapable of using your brain instead of your dick?”

“Noonaaaaa~” He threw his head back in exasperation, which gave you the chance to ogle at the column of his throat. “Seriously, is torturing guys at the end of a date your sick hobby or something?”

“Look, if you stay over, we can still make-out.” You throw a smirk at him, unlocked your door and pushed it wide open. “And I make the most amazing coffee, trust me.”

“Fine,” he exhaled, walking into your room with a suppressed smile on his face. “And I’m only here for coffee, nothing more. Making-out with you is just a bonus.” And you found yourself giggling like a child as he cradled you into his arms and pushed you down to your bed because you both knew, it was the other way around.

***

About a month later, a similar situation happened again and there was no getting out of it.

It started with Haechan coming over to your room on a Sunday afternoon. Your roommate was staying over at her boyfriend’s place again for the weekend, so you had the room to yourself for the entire day. Haechan came unplanned and he’d brought his MacBook with him because, “I know myself well enough that I’d end up playing Overwatch instead of working on my assignment, so could you please be a responsible adult and force me to do my work even if I start crying at your feet?”

Haechan was always the dramatic one in your relationship but you nodded your head and let him in. You brought over some snacks and made him coffee like usual—which he always replied with, “Noona, I don’t want to sound like an ungrateful boyfriend but this coffee tastes like shi—” but was always finished with a pillow smacked to his face, a form of your courtesy.

You were working on your own papers too, sitting on the carpeted floor with your back pressed against the foot of your bed and a MacBook resting on your lap. Your textbooks were sprawled all over the place, and Haechan was lying down on your bed, head falling over the edge. He was looking at his phone, his thumb running up and down the screen.

“Noona?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m bored.”

“Aren’t you supposed to work on your assignment?”

“Finished it already.”

You threw a look over your shoulder, glancing to see him lounging on your bed as if it was his own. Haechan already had his MacBook closed, and was looking at you upside down with a completely bored look on his face. You knew he was smart, but you didn’t know he was that smart when he really put his mind to it.

“Well, that was fast,” you commented.

“No, you’re just doing it painfully slow.”

“Well, sorry for not being as smart as you,” you mumbled, even though you weren’t really annoyed about it. Haechan huffed and walked closer, sitting closely right behind you, and trapping you between his legs.

“You’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met, though,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist. “What are you working on exactly?”

“I don’t even know, honestly,” you sighed, leaning against his chest, dropping your head on his shoulder. “You wanna order some take-out?”

“Can I eat you for dinner instead?”

“Was that a sex joke, Lee Donghyuck?”

“Could be, if you’re interested.” You could see him wiggling his eyebrows from his reflection on your standing mirror. Both of you looked adorable, if you could say so yourself, wearing a matching white shirt (though not on purpose) and enjoying each other’s warmth with Haechan’s arms wrapped protectively around your figure. You sighed as you admired the sight of Haechan’s features in the mirror.

“Have I told you how sexy you look with your hair pushed back like this?” You asked, reaching out to touch some of his strands and he followed your gaze, looking at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Huh.” He seemed surprised. “It’s the first time you said that actually. What else do you think is sexy about me?”

“Promise you won’t get cocky about it if I tell you?”

“Can’t. You know how I am.”

You sighed but you succumbed to his wish. He praised you from time to time, it was only fair for you to do the same. “The way you dance.”

“You saw me dance?”

“Hm-hmm.”

“When?”

“That time when we went to Jaemin’s party. You were dancing to Billy Jean.”

“You saw that?!” He was flustered, scarlet painting his cheeks and ears. “That was—I thought you were in the bathroom!”

“Well, I was going to but then I saw you and kinda had to stop and stare for a little. You dance more with your hips than with your hands, do you know that? It was kinda hot.”

And just like that, the flabbergasted look on his face was immediately replaced with that Godforsaken cocky smirk again. “Were you turned on back then because of me?”

“A little. Or maybe I just really had to pee.”

“You should’ve said something, you know.”

“And then what? Have sex with you in Jaemin’s room? No freaking way.”

“We could’ve used my car. My hips could do so much more than just dancing, you know.”

“You’re disgusting.” You elbowed him slightly on the stomach to stop him from giggling, before you focused back on your MacBook. “Now, shoo, my boy. Mommy’s gotta work.”

Haechan had his chin on one of your shoulders. “But Noona~”

“I’m studying.”

“I’m bored~” He whined like the baby that he was, nuzzling his nose against the crook of your neck and you flinched slightly when his breath tickled your skin. “Can we make-out? Please pretty pleaseeeee~”

“Give me half an hour to finish this real quick—”

“Noonaaaaaaa~”

“What?” You were trapped between laughing and acting annoyed about it. “I seriously need to study. Didn’t you tell me to be a responsible adult for today?”

“You could also be a responsible adult by making-out with me though.” He chuckled to himself. “We could do adult things if you—”

“No,” you firmly stated though your smile kept on appearing on your face. You pushed a palm against his cheek, playfully shoving him away. “Now, go away, Dongsookie, I really have to study.”

“Fine,” he exhaled loudly against your shoulder and you could practically feel his pout growing on his face. He didn’t let you go, though. He kind of just sat there behind you, still circling his arms around your waist as he lazily stared at the words you were typing on the keyboard. You had trouble concentrating with the way you could feel every time he took in a breath from how close his chest was pressed against your spine but eventually you got the hang of it.

You were already working on your third page when Haechan suddenly had his lips on the side of your neck, lazily suckling on the skin until you could no longer ignore him.

“Haechannie.”

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m playing a game,” he murmured against your skin, licking at the soft skin before he nibbled at it with his teeth. “It’s called how fast can I distract my girlfriend from working over a stupid assignment instead of spending time with me.”

“But I am spending time with you, though.”

“You know what I mean.”

And you had to bite your lip because he had a certain kind of pressure on his words that made your skin tingle in anticipation. His lips were soft but scorching hot as he drew bruises on your skin and it felt so good and dangerous at the same time. It was like standing on a bridge made of glass, both exciting and terrifying.

“You know what I think is sexy about you?” He quietly asked, one hand running down your body, slipping under your shirt and hovering dangerously close to your bra. “The way you say my name when we kiss,” he continued, adding a soft moan when he latched his lips around your earlobe.

You shivered, feeling heat growing on your cheeks. “Haechannie—”

“Yes, like that,” he chuckled, his voice suddenly became deeper. “You’re so sexy, you’re driving me insane.”

You tried your best to ignore him, you really did. But the second he had his warm mouth against your lips, his fingers grabbing your face almost forcefully to turn towards him, you just lost it and you found yourself crawling into his lap, tangling your legs around his waist and moaning against his mouth as he was against yours.

“Noona,” he sighed when you kissed down his neck, as if your every touch was a gift that he craved more and more. He shuddered slightly when you had your hand under his shirt and as if you just pushed the wrong button, he suddenly picked you up by the waist, shoved your textbooks away with one swipe of the back of his hand, and laid you down on the carpeted floor in one swift motion.

“If you keep doing that,” he breathed out heavily, eyes glazed as he stared at your kiss swollen lips. “I won’t be able to stop, even if you beg me to.”

You weren’t sure what came over you but you found yourself hooking your fingers around his necklace and brought his face down, whispering, “Then don’t stop,” directly against his lips.

It was all rush and passion and Haechan was not wasting even a second away before he began to undress you, removing each clothing very easily and you secretly wondered just how many times had he done this before from how smooth he unclasped your bra with one flick of his finger.

He pulled his shirt over his head, his silver necklace hanging loosely around his neck. “Tell me if I’m being too fast,” he said, before he climbed on top of you, throwing the piece of clothing away without a care. Your heart jumped at the sight of him, knowing how this could lead to something more but couldn’t really stop him. Not with the way he had his hands reaching down from the valley of your breasts, down to your stomach, his fingers brushing above the hem of your jeans.

His kiss was always breathtaking, to say the least, but it was a bit different this time because it felt like he was losing control of himself. His kiss was almost forceful, his teeth roughly nibbling at your lower lip before he moved down your chin and found his place in the crook of your neck again. His hand was on your chest, cupping you fully with his palm and let out this sexy groan when he felt you gasping his name against his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re just doing that on purpose now, aren’t you?” He hissed, eyes clouded with lust. He peppered kisses down your chest, lips hovering above your nipple when he said, “You’re being cruel, Noona.” You were tugging at his dark locks when he placed it between his lips, sucking at the sensitive spot, and you tried to hold back your moan but failing every time.

Haechan was giggling to himself, his tongue flicking around the bud. “The way you’re reacting to me is so cute. I didn’t know you were this sensitive.” He ran his tongue across his lower lip, staring at you like he wanted to ravish every part of you, which he probably did. “You’re so goddamn cute.”

“Haechannie.”

“Yeah?”

“I won’t be needing that kind of commentary ever again in the future, thanks,” you uttered, trying your best to focus on his touch and not his words because Haechan could be annoyingly talkative sometimes.

He chuckled again, moving along to land a few kisses on your stomach. “If you’re that sensitive here, how sensitive will you be if I touch you right over…” He trailed a finger down from your belly button to the edge of your underwear. His eyes twinkled gleefully before he rubbed your clit over your underwear. “…here?”

You gave your best strength to stay sane but Haechan’s giggle over your reaction only tortured you even further. “Stop playing around,” you hissed under your breath, pretty sure that you were blushing from ear to ear.

“Playing?” Haechan grinned tauntingly, “I’m being pretty serious, though.” He spread your legs, kissing the inner part of your trembling thigh before he hovered dangerously close to the point you could feel his breath down there. You couldn’t help but gulp in anticipation and Haechan knew that. He knew how much you wanted him to take off your underwear and eat you out like it’s his last meal.

But of course, being the little fucking devil that he was, Haechan only threw you his usual smirk and said, “You know I’d do anything for you, right, Noona? You just gotta beg for it.”

“No way.”

“Otherwise, I wouldn’t know.” He faked a pout. “I’m younger than you, you know. I need you to teach me these things.”

You reciprocated by kicking him right on his abs because as desperate as you were, there was no way in hell you were going to grovel at his feet, begging for him to please you. “All right, all right, I’m sorry, geez!” Haechan said, laughing as he successfully dodged two of your first kicks. Soon after, he grabbed your moving legs, carefully placed them on his sides and ran his hands slowly from your legs to your thighs. He took a long glance at your body, sighing like it was some kind of beautiful torture for him to take. “You don’t even realize how hot you are, do you?” He leaned closer and grabbed you by your chin, locking both of your gazes together. “Do you even know how hard I am right now because of you?”

It was a rhetorical question, clearly, because you could definitely tell how hard and hot he was pressing against you, even if his jeans and your underwear were still on the way.

“God, just—” you gasped when he slipped a knee between your legs, pressing it against your core. “Just stop being a fucking tease and fuck me already, Donghyuck.”

And he grinned against your skin. “Fucking finally.” You heard him say under his breath, before he carried you in his arms and moved you to the bed. It felt somewhat scary, how fast he was being, because you had only experienced sex once and it was the painfully awkward kind of sex with your high school boyfriend and you didn’t really have the chance to practice it with anyone else while it seemed to you, at this point, was clearly not the case for him.

Haechan had his eyes on you, all half-lidded with lust and passion, as he unbuckled the belt of his jeans and you had to gulp at the sight. He didn’t really have six-pack abs like Jaehyun—considering your boyfriend was quite an athlete during his senior days—but his shoulders were broad, his chest was toned, his stomach was lean and his skin, as it glistened slightly with sweat, was just absolutely breathtaking.

“Enjoying the view?” He asked, and you knew how he’d always been cocky in his entire life, but he’d never been this cocky. “You’re practically drooling.”

“I am not,” you retorted but you lacked confidence. Haechan grabbed a condom from the pocket of his jeans before he climbed back into the bed with his jeans unbuttoned.

“Why do you already have a condom with you?”

“Because I came prepared.”

“I thought you said you wanted to study.”

“Among other things,” he grinned against your lips and shushed down your next protest. “I will be studying your body, if you give me the chance.”

“That was so lame.” But even your insult couldn’t mask how nervous you sounded, especially when Haechan was settling himself between your legs again, fingers hooking around your underwear.

“Final chance if you want me to stop, Noona,” he said though it felt like it was almost impossible for him to stop. “I’m serious. After this, I won’t stop even if you cry.”

You swallowed your breath, heart thrumming loud against your chest. “Just do whatever you want,” you answered, almost too quiet for even your ears to hear but Haechan’s eyes gleamed in anticipation.

“That’s my girl,” he said, grabbing your thighs and spreading your legs apart before he leaned in to taste your mouth again. “I’ll be gentle, don’t worry.”

You realized you were holding your breath when Haechan wrapped the condom around his length and he had his eyes on you before he pushed in, asking with an unexpected low voice of his, “Ready?”

But he did not wait for an answer and you found yourself hissing when he pushed in, slowly at first and suddenly all at once. You twisted your fingers against the bed sheet, biting your lower lip because it hurt trying to adjust to his size and Haechan was a little bit lost in his own thoughts, muttering, “Fuck, you’re so tight,” under his breath, slightly throwing his head back out of pleasure. “Noona, you’re so fucking tight. Do you know that?”

He leaned closer to you, chest pressing against your breasts as he mouthed against the skin of your shoulder and slowly began to move his hips. “You all right?” He asked, making eye contact after a while and you shakily nodded your head, though the pain was still there. “Then I’ll move faster.”

You almost hit your head against your headboard when he suddenly picked up the pace, thrusting into you hard and deep; it knocked the breath out of your lungs. “Haecha—” you could barely speak at that point, arms clutching tight to his back, nails raking against his spine.

“Fuck,” he uttered between heavy breaths as he sat on his knees, holding both of your legs in the air, almost splitting your body in half and pushed deeper. “How the fuck do you feel this good, I—” he ended his sentence short, kissing your ankle instead, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wanna keep you—you’re so pretty like this, Noona—so fucking pretty—”

Haechan was always good with his words but at that time, he was making incoherent noises at the back of his throat, jumping from one sentence to another as if he was thinking about several things at once and he was running out of time.

“Haechan, wait—s-slow down—” You placed a hand on his shoulder, tears forming in your eyes. “You’re moving too fast—It hurts—”

Haechan was unfocused, but the last two words that slipped from your mouth brought him back to reality. He stopped almost immediately, looking at you with eyes searching your face. “Does it hurt?” He asked and you nodded, your body shaking a little bit. His gaze softened, cupping your cheek in his hand before he slowly pulled out of you. “I’m sorry, come here.” He cradled you into his arms, sitting down on the bed and helped you climb into his lap. “Maybe if we do it this way,” he said, wiping a tear from your eye with his thumb, “You’ll feel better?”

You could feel him twitching below you, the tip of his cock pressing against your folds. Haechan stayed true to his promise, he wasn’t going to stop even if you cried and that’s fine because you didn’t want him to.

“Take your time,” Haechan said, smiling gently in a way that was so not him that it made you feel weird. You could tell that he was trying to keep himself calm and composed even when all he wanted to do was to fuck you senselessly.

He pushed inside again, but let you take control of the pace this time. You slid down slowly, wincing slightly at the friction but it no longer hurt as much. Haechan was staring at you the entire time, unconsciously licking his lower lip when you slowly began to bounce on his lap.

“Kiss me,” he demanded and you did, sharing his breath and his moans, and tangling your hands in his hair. When he felt your body relaxing against him, he grabbed you by the waist and suddenly thrust forward, making you gasp and clenched your legs together.

“Fuck,” he moaned under his breath, hissing at how perfect you felt around him. “Noona, you can be mad at me as much as you want after this but for now let me just—” he groaned, furrowing his eyebrows at the feeling of him sliding in and out of you. “Just let me fuck you the way I want.”

And you found yourself thrown back to the bed with him thrusting into you deep and raw, faster and much more forceful than before. His nails were sinking into your skin from how hard he was holding you by your hips, keeping you still as he rocked his hips forward as hard and as fast as he liked. Expletives were falling from his lips between his low grunts and breathy moans and you couldn’t help but sob a little at how strong he was going. It felt painfully amazing, and you knew your body wasn’t making any sense, and it surprised you when your orgasm hit you like a wave, just a few seconds before he reached his. You honestly never thought that something so painful could also bring this much pleasure and you wanted to be mad at him but you couldn’t even find the energy to keep yourself up.

You fell down to the bed with Haechan toppling on top of you almost immediately, chest heaving fast as he tried to bring back some air into his lungs.

“Holy fucking hell,” he said, breathing heavily at the juncture of your neck. “That was so good. This is probably the first time I—”

“Haechannie.”

“Oh right, shit!” He immediately jumped away, giving you some space and gently placed his palm on the side of your face, checking your condition. “Are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere? Noona, I’m so sor—Yah!“

You pinched him by the nose, glowering at him with the little strength you have left and you didn’t let go even if he was tapping frantically against the back of your hand, asking for time-outs before you broke his bones.

Well, he said you could be mad at him all you want. It was time for him to face your wrath and it was not going to be pretty.

***

It wasn’t long until your name became a famous topic to discuss around the hallway too and it felt weird yet exciting at the same time, because it was true. You were dating Lee Haechan. And no matter how many times you had to convince yourself that it wasn’t solely your imagination, it still felt unreal.

Because Haechan was shining like the sun, and you couldn’t really shine as bright.

It suddenly felt like high school all over again when you’d once dated the Prom King, Jung Jaehyun, where people always talked behind your back, making comments about your face, or your body, or your attitude and how every aspect of your life did not fit the legendary high school prince that was Jung Jaehyun. It had gotten so much into your head that you had to break up with him, and hating yourself for over a year on how weak you’d become.

Dating Haechan was similar but different in the way he treated you. Jaehyun was too kind, not really saying anything back to anyone who said awful things about you and instead, just told you to not pay any mind about it. Haechan was much braver in saying the things that came to mind, so whenever he heard people talking trash about you, he would come up to them with words laced with venom. It was kind of childish, the way he got worked up rather easily, and even more childish when he continued to pout and fume about it even after a whole day had passed.

“Seriously, I said I’m fine,” you once said to him, entering his Hyundai after he opened the door for you.

“Well, I’m pissed off,” he said, unconsciously closing the door a bit too hard, making you flinch slightly. He walked to the other side of the car, sinking to his seat behind the wheel and exhaled loudly.

“Haechannie.”

“What?” His tone was still a bit harsh, but you knew he didn’t mean to shout at you.

“Thank you for defending me,” you softly said, reaching out for his hand. “But at this point, you’re gonna be mad with literally everyone and anger does not look pretty on you.”

“But aren’t you pissed, though? They literally have no business whatsoever to—”

“I know.” You squeezed his hand. “Look if it gets worse, we can always plan out something. There’s this perfect swamp I know outside of town.”

And Haechan couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he was right, that swamp thing could really be your thing. “You and your stupid swamp,” he muttered, shaking his head in amusement as he grabbed your face for a kiss. “Can we have sex at your place today?”

You sighed. It was always like this when it came to him. “Sure, why not.”

Because certainly, you weren’t complaining.

***

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donutloverxo · 5 years ago

Text

A week

Summary - You want a puppy. Ransom doesn't. You make a deal so you both get what you want.

Warnings - smut, anal, butt plugs, mean ransom

Pairing - Ransom Drysdale x reader

Word count - 1.9k

Masterlist

You cooed at the k-nines jumping up to kiss your face. You had always had a special spot for dogs but your busy job and hectic life never allowed you the leisure to ever have one of your own.

You stroked the German Shepherd under his chin as he wagged his tail, so excited to see you again. His brother launched at Ransom, biting and tugging at the helm of his long tan coat. “Hey! quit it” He scolded the poor pup shrugging it off.

You had to really strain yourself from laughing at the sight. He started at you, scowling at your amazement “You know what they say. Animals can judge your a persons true nature. Whether you’re good or bad” You squinted playfully at him. Although you knew if Ransom put the teensiest of effort in being friendly the dogs would like him just as they do you.

“I’ll show you just how bad I am” You yelped as he jerked you forward by grabbing your the curve of your waist, pulling you into him as the dogs barked at him.

“Ransom behave yourself!” Linda yelled approaching you both at the door “Honestly how do you put up with him” she despondently shook her head. She had always been nice-ish to you. Telling you she sees a lot of herself and Richard in you and Ransom, as you had a high powered job. Ransom definitely didn’t take too kindly to being compared to his father. Throwing vicious insults at her, blaming her for his fathers wandering eye, even if she sort of deserved it you felt bad for her.

As if to rebel against her, ever the teenager, Ransom bit your neck and gave it a suckle in front of her as she gasped at his insolence. You tried to push him away but he was too strong.

She said something along the lines of ‘you’re hopeless' and then left you both alone.

Compared to most Thrombey dinners this one was surprisingly tame. You made Ransom promise to be on his best behavior, and he did a pretty good job. So as a way to thank him you blew him on the ride home.

You choked around his dick as he thrusted his hips up with reckless abandon. You could only hope he was concentrating on the drive as you felt him spill in your mouth.

“Fuck” he cursed catching his breathe as you slipped his softening cock out of your mouth “See that’s a better use of your mouth” He chuckled at your frown “Be a good girl and tuck me back in” He ordered and you gave his cock a kiss, putting it back in his pants.

He seemed to be relaxed and elated as id he was in his post orgasmic bliss. You had to strike while the irons hot. “Ransom” You gushed giving him a sweet smile “how do you feel about... getting a puppy?”

He scoffed incredulously “Absolutely not” He spit tutting the T.

You knew he wouldn’t agree right away. “What if I let you put it in my ass?” He had tried multiple times to let him fuck your ass. Letting his tongue wander while he was eating you out, pressing his thumb into your bum while he was railing into you from behind, smacking and biting your bum. You couldn’t see the appeal of it. With how big Ransom was, to the point where you struggled to fit him in your mouth, it would probably hurt a lot, but you’d be willing to do it for a cute puppy.

“No. There’s a perfectly nice tight cunt right next to it I can use” You’d cringe at his crude words but by now you had gotten too used to them. “I’m not sharing you with a dog. You already work, even though you don’t need to”

You sighed at that smoothing your hair, having had this exact conversation with him multiple times. You’re not quitting your job. You’d be lying if you said his passive aggressive comments didn’t hurt you. “Whatever. I wanna go home”

“We are going home” He deadpanned.

“No I wanna go to my apartment” even though you weren’t sure if you had the keys to it. You hadn’t even been to your apartment in weeks, probably months. You stared out the window refusing to look at him.

“What? That’s it? You don’t get your way and now you’re throwing a fit? You’re such brat” He smirked thinking of ways he could fuck the brattiness out of you

“That’s amazing coming from you” You gave him a humorless chuckle “I’m just really tired okay? And – I think some distance would be good for now” You tried to reason with him.

“Let’s make a deal. So we can both get what we want” He proposed.

“I’m listening” You looked back at him.

“You let me do whatever I want to you for a month. And then we can go get your stupid puppy” He parked the car in his driveway.

“What do you mean whatever you want to me?” You couldn’t help but think the worst.

“Would you hold your horses? I’m not that perverted” You could argue with that.

“One week” You countered.

“I have to put up with a dirty dog for just a week?” he scoffed again

“It’ll be fun and special” you flutter your eyelashes at him hoping it’ll do the trick.

“Fine” He grumbled.

“Let’s shake on it” You offered your hand hoping he’ll shake it but before you knew it he was out of the car. He opened your door hauling you over his shoulder. “Ransom!” You squealed being taken by surprise.

“Let’s start right now yeah?” he harshly smacked your ass carrying you up the stairs to his bedroom. He dropped you on the bed, in a not so graceful way. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long” He smirked digging out what looked like a blue tube from one of the drawers.

“Is that a... “

“It’s a butt plug. We gotta get you ready babe” He said stroking the plug, feeling the silicony smoothness under his fingers.

“You’re not putting that in me if you’ve probablyput it in other girls” you puffed. “I didn’t want cooties, no thank you”

“Relax. I ordered it online. Now” he paused making you wait for it “let’s get down to business” before you could protest he crashed his lips upon yours, nipping and tugging on your lips.

You moaned into his mouth as his calloused fingers worked on your zipper taking your dress and panties off. If nothing else he was really good at undressing you. You felt his fingers teasing your folds, barely touching you. “Ransom please” you whimpered. You couldn’t really take any teasing not tonight. Or ever really. The little shit was too good at it.

You yelped as he unceremoniously flipped you onto your stomach, perching your ass up by putting a pillow under your hips.

He gave your ass a loud smack. You chastised him to be more gentle. “take off your stupid pinkie ring If you’re going to spank me. It really chaffs me”

He gently (well gently for him) pushed your head in the pillow muffling your voice. “I get to do whatever I want with you. Remember?” you didn’t have to look at him to know that he was probably evilly grinning at your helpless state.

You gasped as you felt his warm tongue lick a stripe up your folds, suckling on your clit. He drew patterns on it with the tip of his tongue. He was being too gentle, it made you fear the impending storm even more so. “Oh” you said as you felt his tongue on your pluckered hole. It was strange, not nearly as pleasurable as it was on your clit, but good in a different way. “Oh god” your breathe hitched as you felt him push two fingers in your bum. He dragged them in and out of you while sucking on your clit. “What the fuck?!” You exclaimed as you felt a cold substance on your ass.

“It’s just lube” He muttered pressing the plug in your hole. The plug invaded your ass. You were still getting used to it, wiggling a bit to see how it hits in different angles. “Looks so pretty babe” You cursed at the way your heart fluttered at his praise.

He pushed his throbbing hard cock in your weeping channel. His cock was so big, no matter how many times, and how hard he fucked you, the delicious burn when he enters you is probably the best part for you. Next to cumming around it of course. His pace escalated, encouraged by your moans and whines. And how you tried so hard to suppress them. He grabbed your hips pushing you into the pillow under you as he set a steady pace giving short shallow thrusts. “Harder Ransom” You pleaded fisting the sheets in your hands. Needing something to hold onto. You knew he loved it when you said that.

And then, suddenly he pulled out of you, leaving you feeling so empty. You clenched around nothing, your pussy missing the weight and warmth of him. “Ransom?” You called out looking behind to see what’s going on. You gasped as he pulled the plug out of your ass, making you feeling even more empty.

He pushed your cheeks apart before gathering your slick with his dick, coating it around your pluckered hole. He languidly pushed his tip in, holding still when he was halfway in as he heard you hiss.

The lube, his fingers and your slick did help but it was still painful. You powered through the pain, he was too big, the burn of the stretch was painful, you hoped it would get better.

“It’ll feel good in a bit” he said pulling his cock halfway out of you and slowing thrusting it into you.

You moaned as your body got accustomed to his size. His thrusts sending shivers up your spine. He pressed his fingers on your clit, pushing them inside your weeping channel. You couldn’t stop the cry that escaped your mouth. It was too good. His fingers in your pussy and his cock in your ass, you didn’t know what you should focus on or which one felt better. “I wanna cum. Please! I’ve been so good” You begged pathetically.

“I get to decide when you cum” He said curling his fingers inside you as you whimpered into your pillow. “Fine I’ll go easy this time. You can cum babe. Go ahead cum on my fingers. While I –“ he snapped his hips harshly against your ass pushing into the deepest parts of you “fuck your ass”

With the green light from him, you felt stars cloud your vision as he stroked and pinched your clit. You came undone screaming into your pillow, gushing on his fingers.

“Fuck!” He screamed pulling out of you stroking his cock as spurts of cum landed on your back.

“You did so good baby. We’re going to have so much fun” You heard him say as you felt a warm cloth between your thighs and ass cheeks cleaning you up. You hummed sleepily. Wondering how the week was going to go. It would be interesting if anything.

Taggies - @patzammit @onetwo3000 @peaceinourtime82 @stargazingfangirl18 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @navybrat817 @what-just-happened-bro @thehumanistsdiary @cheeseburgersstuff @captain-a-rogerss @marvelousell @evnscvll @lilbabycee @mrspeacem1nusone @maynay43 @leaning-howto-be-myselfx3

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Super cute divider by @whimsicalrogers 💮 gif belongs to @beardedchrisevans

Please do not steal or repost my fics. Reblogs are welcome.

This is set in the morning loving universe. But can be read as a stand alone as well. I feel my hatred for Ransom seeps into my fics for him. Maybe we should make a part two to see if you get your puppy and to find out what kind of troubles you get into 👀

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombey imagine #ransom thrombey fanfic #ransom thrombey #ransom x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x reader #ransom drysdale x you #steve rogers x reader

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dynamics-of-an-asteroid · 5 years ago

Note

Dont suppose you have a copy of the interview you could share?

For you, dear anon~

His Dark Materials: Andrew Scott on life after Fleabag and Sherlock

We’ve loved him as both Fleabag’s Hot Priest and Sherlock’s menacing Moriarty. Now, he’s back on our screens in the new series of His Dark Materials. Polly Vernon talks to our TV crush

Andrew Scott is mortified. The actor – formerly Moriarty to Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock, then the Hot Priest of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s Fleabag, imminently Colonel John Parry in the BBC’s adaptation of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials – arrives at the photographic studio, bang on the appointed hour, in a fawn cashmere cardigan with a fine gold chain around his neck, bemoaning “this terrible, terrible eye infection, which is making me so self-conscious. I’m so sorry. It isn’t that you’ve massively upset me before we’ve even started. It’s so annoying. But anyway…”

Scott, 44, is small, vivid, wiry and garrulously Irish, with a face that is not handsome so much as mesmerising, intense, sharply boned, symmetrical, startlingly expressive. Sequences of emotions so subtle and complicated that I can’t begin to identify or keep up with them ruffle his brow from moment to moment. And, yup, the whole thing is rather disrupted by his left eye. This is no light kiss of conjunctivitis. It’s a swollen, red, perma-weeping situation that engulfs the whole socket. Scott turns his face two thirds on to me, so the infection is largely hidden, which would probably help if we weren’t sitting in a brightly lit hair and make-up room with a massive, inescapable mirror fixed to one wall. “Oh God,” Scott says every time he catches sight of his reflection.

Stress?

“Let’s be honest,” he says. “Let’s not skirt around the issue. It’s being overworked and…” Scott’s eye begins weeping. “Oh my goodness. I am so sorry. Really, really very sorry.”

Wanna wear my sunglasses, I ask, holding them out to him.

“That would be a bit more weird, wouldn’t it? I actually did think about that in the taxi, but I thought that would be some sort of weird and screwed Invisible Man-type thing. I mean, it couldn’t be worse. And then we have to go and get our photograph taken. It’ll be one of those pictures where, you know, those creepy pictures… Of people crying?”

That’s what Photoshop’s for, I say.

“Anyway. Let’s just ignore it.”

I wonder if it’s particularly hard to walk around with an eye infection at a point in time where you’re not merely famous, as Scott is – a star of stage, screen and Bond film, winner of multiple awards, including, as of barely two weeks ago, a Best Actor Olivier for Present Laughter at the Old Vic – but specifically famous for being sexy.

In 2019, Andrew Scott became synonymous with, well, sex. While playing a character technically known as the Priest, whom the general public instantly renamed the Hot Priest, the spiritual support turned transgressive love interest of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s supremely popular Fleabag, Scott became a cypher for the nation’s more exotic desires. A deliciously contentious pin-up. Ground zero on an earnest social media debate about whether the Priest’s relationship with Fleabag should be considered abusive, power imbalanced, “problematic”. And that was just for starters.

The Priest’s sexual iconography extended far beyond the limits of the show, becoming the subject of internet memes and real-life merchandise (visit online retailer Etsy for your £12 Hot Priest mug emblazoned with an illustration of Scott in priest’s robes, alongside the word “kneel”, a reference to a pivotal moment between the show’s lead characters, which takes place in a confession box, the climax of which, assuming you haven’t already seen it, you could probably take a stab at). There was an unprecedented upsurge in young worshippers, and women started bombarding social media “influencer” the Rev Chris Lee of west London with nude photographs. There was much foetid fan fiction.

To be publicly defined by so much sex, as Scott still is, a year and a half after Fleabag concluded, and then to be encumbered by something as visibly unsexy as an eye infection, I can see how that might make a chap self-conscious.

Scott isn’t here to rake up all that old Hot Priest stuff, mind. He’s here to talk about the second series of His Dark Materials, a lush, expensive fantasy drama based on the Philip Pullman books, jewel in the crown of the BBC’s autumn schedule. The series was filmed through 2019 and the beginning of 2020 and had all but wrapped before lockdown. Good timing, as it turned out, because the extensive post-production processes, unlike shooting, could be completed in isolation.

Scott’s Colonel John Parry is an explorer, the missing father of the central character, 14-year-old Will Parry. He’s a man who slipped into a parallel universe some years earlier, acquired a “daemon” – an exterior animal-formed expression of his soul, a female osprey called Sayan Kötör, voiced with public-pleasing symmetry by Phoebe Waller-Bridge – and never found a way back to “our” world and his son. I speak as a fan of the books, which you might describe as a darker, existential response to Harry Potter, although honestly? They’re better than that. The show is great, a deft, rewarding interpretation, and Scott is an exciting prospect as Parry.

Did he jump at the part?

“I did, actually. It was definitely something I was into. We were doing a play and it seemed like a fun thing to do.” Scott is one of those who slips into the third person when speaking about himself in a professional capacity.

Had he read the books?

“Yeah,” he says. “I think they’re extraordinary. The truth, but told on a slant. I love the way Pullman tells children about spirituality or religion in such an extraordinary, intelligent way. He doesn’t speak down to them. He talks to children’s souls.”

Given that Pullman effectively kills off God through the course of the books and Scott’s a lapsed Irish Catholic who has suffered his share of shame on account of the church’s grip on his homeland (more on which shortly), I’d imagine Pullman’s books talked to Scott’s adult soul too.

Presumably, he didn’t have to audition. Presumably, he never has to. Too famous for auditions?

“No,” he says. “Although I’ve always thought auditioning is a pretty good thing to do.”

Why?

“Because you’re able to understand, ‘Oh, this is the vibe here.’ You think, when you’re an actor, you don’t have much choice, but I’ve always felt like auditioning is a good opportunity for you to go, ‘Oh well, I don’t much like you either. I think you’re dreadful!’ ”

I don’t care that you didn’t give me that part?

“Yeah.” Scott becomes playfully, theatrically defiant. “I don’t care!” He flicks aside an imaginary rejection with a churlish hand.

Will John Parry and His Dark Materials be enough to eliminate all residual overtones of Hot Priest sexiness from Scott? Maybe. He is a fine actor, no question, entirely transformed from role to role. I saw him play Paul, a narcissistic, fame-addled touring rock star, at the Royal Court in 2014 in Simon Stephens’ Birdland, back when his deeply sinister Moriarty weighed almost as heavily on Scott’s reputation as the Hot Priest does now. I’d watched him become someone else entirely on stage. “Oh, you saw that?” Scott says, pleased.

I quote, “Am I cancer?” at him, his defining line from the play, as evidence.

“Oh Jesus. Oh f***ing hell. Oh my. I’d forgotten that line. ‘Am I cancer?’ ”

The Hot Priest association hasn’t left him yet, which is why I find myself asking what it’s like to be the very definition of sexiness.

“You get invited to more parties.”

Better parties?

“Yeah.”

Better than during his Moriarty phase?

“Definitely.”

It must be fun to find yourself le dernier cri in sexy, according to the whole nation.

“Yeah, that’s fun,” he says. “I didn’t really like being associated with scary. It’s not what I’m interested in being, in life, being intimidating to people. It’s not part of my nature, whereas being sexy to people…”

That is part of his nature?

“Well, they’re very different things.”

They’re both about having power over people.

“I suppose they are, yes.”

So did Scott, bored of scaring people, say to Phoebe Waller-Bridge, writer and star of Fleabag and a long-term friend (they met in 2009 while starring in Roaring Trade at the Soho Theatre), “Write a role for me that will make everyone think I’m just really, really sexy now”?

“That’s such a good belt. Are they two ‘Gs’?”

“Exactly.”

——————————

Andrew Scott is not the easiest interview. He’s utterly charming. Really, just a delight. In between prostrating himself for the offence of his eye and apologising for not turning up the first time we were scheduled to meet (ten days earlier; a delayed Covid test result meant he couldn’t make it), he ensures I have a good time in his company. He is playful. He makes me laugh. His every utterance is delivered as a grand performance. (“Shhhh! Just… Shhhh!” he implores, placing a finger against his lips while expressing frustrations over the mindless jabber of social media, and he does it so powerfully, he compels me to be quiet, breathlessly to await delivery of his next line.) He finds elegant ways to flatter me. He laughs at my jokes and is terribly taken with my belt.

Yeah. For Gucci.

“Oh. Ha ha! I thought it was the Golden Globes. I love the Golden Globes. Ha ha!”

And of course, he’s Irish. Clichédly, melodiously Irish, which makes everything sound softer and jollier than it might otherwise.

As for the actual business of being interviewed, of answering straight questions with straight answers, finishing off sentences, offering more than a slip-slide of vagaries punctuated by vigorous hand gestures, none of which translates into print? He’d rather not.

He tells me, as he’s told other journalists before, this is because he’s interested in navigating the line between “privacy and secrecy”, then says he’s aware he’s sometimes “got away with secrecy under the guise and respectability of privacy”, as if signalling potential incoming slipperiness, which means I prepare to throw every trick in the book at him.

First up: amateur psychology.

Might Andrew Scott’s gayness be at the heart of his reluctance to speak more freely? Perhaps. This is no scoop. He’s been out for almost as long as he’s been famous. “I mean, as a civilian, I was quite young [when I came out], you know? But then, as a celebrity…”

He tails off, allows me to fill in the blanks. This is another of his evasion tactics. I can’t very well quote Scott on the presumptions I make about things he never quite says.

He had to have another coming out?

“Yes. And I have another one coming up.”

He has another coming out coming up?

“Yeah.”

So that will be, what? Tier 3 gayness?

“Tier 3, yeah.”

Scott grew up in Ireland at a time when it wasn’t legal to be gay, which could certainly seed an enduring reluctance towards carefree openness in a person. He invokes the concept of shame more regularly than the average interviewee. He was born in Dublin in 1976 to Nora, an art teacher, and Jim, who worked at an employment agency. He has one older sister, Sarah, and a younger one, Hannah.

He was shy, so started attending a children’s drama course.

Did that help?

“Yeah. Acting to me is not pretending to be someone else. It’s more like, this is who I actually am. The lie that tells the truth,” he says. I am none the wiser. He was clearly talented. He went from adverts to his first starring role in a film aged 17 (Korea, directed by Cathal Black), won a bursary to art school but took a place at Trinity College Dublin to study drama instead, and ditched that six months in to join Dublin’s Abbey Theatre. He’s been gainfully employed in the field ever since.

How Catholic was his upbringing?

“Well, there were Catholic priests in my life,” he says. “None of whom I wanted to have sex with.”

Does it amuse Scott to know he inspired a mass fetishising of priestly ranks? That in 2019, the Hot Priest would make, “Can you have sex with a Catholic priest?” one of the most googled terms of the year?

“Absolutely f***ing mental,” he says.

Homosexuality wasn’t legalised in Ireland until 1993, when Scott was 16.

“I always think, if I’d had a boyfriend then, which I definitely did not…”

No?

“No.”

He knew he was gay, though?

“No. No, no, no, no!”

Was he suppressing it or not thinking about it?

“I would say suppressing. Definitely suppressing. I don’t believe people just don’t think about it.”

An upbeat, cheesy jazz remix of something or other starts playing outside the room.

“Oooh, this is the soundtrack for this bit of the interview,” says Scott. He wiggles his shoulders to the music.

I switch to strict dominatrix interviewer mode. Focus, I say. You were about to tell me something good.

“Oh, shit, was I? OK. I think what’s really insidious is that people don’t ask you about sex or… People wouldn’t say, ‘Are you gay or are you [straight]?’ And the lack of directness is very damaging. They just didn’t go there.”

Does he think his family, friends, the people closest to him knew then that he was gay?

“No,” he says. “I don’t think they did know. Or maybe they have a suspicion, but they think, I want to be respectful, so I’m not going to ask about that. Then [when you do come out], people say, ‘Oh, I’m glad.’ You know? If you do talk about it. So I suppose what I feel now is, talking about sex or sexuality is important. Really important.”

Having said that, “There’s still getting rid of the shame. In a situation like this, 10 or 15 years ago, I would have been…” He fakes shock, horror. “Oh no! Polly’s just asked me about [he switches to a whisper] that.”

Scott will talk about his sex life only notionally. No specifics. For 15 years, between 2001 and 2016, he was in a relationship with the actor turned screenwriter Stephen Beresford (Scott starred in Beresford’s 2014 film Pride). Ever since, he’s refused to answer questions about his romantic life.

And he’s not going to talk about it now, I presume.

“No.”

What if we talk about it opaquely?

“OK.”

Where does he see himself, domestically, in an ideal world? Married with kids whom he’ll, I dunno, adopt or have via surrogacy?

“I like it. It’s bold. Am I going to adopt or…?”

Get a surrogate?

“I definitely think that’s something I would be open to.”

Great, I say, with blatant sarcasm. Thanks. How specific.

“Ha! I’m sorry. OK. Have I got any children at the moment? No. How can I… [explain]? OK. I was with a friend of mine in Dublin…”

His partner?

“No, no, no. Not my partner. Ah ha. I see what you were…”

Teasing. Yes.

“Ha! Yes. So, I was with a friend in Dublin and we were walking around and he was looking at apartments and I was like, ‘What about this place here?’ You know? And he said, ‘No,’ and I said, ‘Why not?’ and he said, ‘I don’t live a heteronormative life, so I don’t want a heteronormative house.’ ”

What’s a heteronormative house?

“Two up, two down thing. He goes, ‘I can live in a loft or a weird space. I don’t need those things.’ He was so proud of it. He really owned it. I think where a lot of one’s pain comes from is when you go, ‘I should want that.’ And so, to answer your question opaquely, I have kids I adore. I love children, genuinely, and I had a very happy childhood. But I also feel, if I don’t have kids, that’s all right. I think I would’ve attached a lot of shame beforehand, with not living a particularly heteronormative life… Even with being gay, there’s a sort of way of being gay that’s acceptable. And I don’t feel that any more.”

He feels you can be unacceptably gay?

“Exactly. Exactly!”

I ask when shame shifted for him and Scott says it was when Ireland voted overwhelmingly in favour of same-sex marriage in the 2015 referendum, which felt, he says, “like acceptance, genuinely. And I remember going out to this gay bar in Dublin and this girl came up to me, this cool Dublin girl, and she said, ‘What are you doing here? You need to go down to, I don’t know, blah, blah, this bar in some park.’ She was saying, ‘This isn’t the right gay bar for you. This is some shit gig,’ when the fact I’m in a gay bar in Ireland [at all] is a miracle to me, and then some person with a half-shaved head is telling me, ‘No, you need to go somewhere cooler.’ ”

His left eye starts weeping again.

“I’m so happy about that,” he says. “Even though I’m crying.”

I ask Scott if he has a game plan when picking roles, if he plots his course from Sherlock villain to Bond quasi-villain (he played Max Denbigh in Spectre) to sex icon, and, if so, what next? “No. Jesus, no,” he says.

We talk about the totalitarianism of social media, which he isn’t on, and share a mutual despair over it. “I thought it was something one would associate with the right, but actually, now it’s [the left] that is very ‘you’re this’ or ‘you’re that’. I find that quite frightening. It actually makes me feel ferocious.”

Is he not worried about being cancelled, of somehow saying the “wrong” thing, according to Twitter sensitivities, then having a thousand voices mobilised against him, demanding his firing, in the style of JK Rowling?

“I’m not,” he says. “I refuse to be. A very intelligent person I was talking to recently was writing a book and he said, ‘I’m going to get a sensitivity expert to have a look. I don’t want to get cancelled.’ I found that frightening.”

Is he rich? “Rich is the absence of worry about money,” he says. He can’t remember the last time he worried about money.

That must be nice.

“Of course it f***ing is. I think it’s a miracle. I really do. I was working in a French theatre in London for nothing – none of us was working for anything – and I remember the artistic director of the theatre talking about the fact we weren’t earning any money as some sort of virtue. I remember feeling really annoyed about that, like this isn’t good.”

This leads to an inevitable conversation about how the arts are suffering with Covid, including a segue down the Fatima route, the much shared government advert that depicted a young ballerina and suggested she retrain in something called cyber. “Her name’s not even Fatima,” Scott rails. “I think she’s called Desire’e. From New York.”

I mean to ask him about his experience of filming The Pursuit of Love with Lily James and Dominic West, stars of their own recent off-screen micro-scandal in Rome, just in case he lets any scurrilous insight slip, but our time’s up and it’s not as if Scott has much form on offering up scurrilous insight anyway.

Still, I feel grateful to him for meeting me halfway on the other stuff. And so I say goodbye to Andrew Scott, the UK’s foremost gay heterosexual lapsed Catholic faux-priest lust icon with a troublesome eye infection.

#''Tier 3 gayness'' is peak comedy #I'm not sure if I should put this in the tag but y'all can reblog if you need it on yours #long post #andrew scott

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bijvoorbeeldja · 5 years ago

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Swimmer!Sander Epilogue

by request of @frencheliott, a Swimmer Sander epilogue! It gets cheesy reallllll fast. Buckle up.

............

Robbe was so nervous he could not sit still.

He sat anxiously biting his nails as his legs bounced rapidly, making resonant vibrations through the row he was sitting in. He tried to calm his nerves and steady his breathing, but as soon as he let out a deep exhale, his limbs would get antsy again, resuming their shaking. If he hadn’t been in the stands, staring at the ginormous pool from yards away, you’d have thought Robbe was competing in the Olympics himself, instead of his boyfriend.

Sander had been training to represent Belgium in the Olympics nearly his whole life, and it made Robbe nauseous to think that his years of hard work all came down to only a few minutes. He was so proud of all the work that Sander had done to get here, so he didn’t think he’d be able to bear it if he left the arena without a medal around his neck.

The past two years had been especially demanding for Sander — and for Robbe. Sander had doubled-up on training, meaning that the two saw each other less and less. But Robbe didn’t complain. He desperately wanted Sander to reach his goals, to receive the reward for all of his hard work. And so he’d come to his practices and meets between his university classes, studied up on the necessary nutrition demands for Sander’s training and kept their fridge stocked with the right foods, and massaged his tired muscles after long practices. Robbe would wait up for him to come after he traveled for competitions, welcoming him home with a warm bath, a hot meal, and lots of I’ve-missed-you kisses. He’d hold him in bed after a training setback or a loss at a meet.

More than once, while they were lying in bed together at night, Sander’s eyes heavy with exhaustion, Robbe would feel dampness on their pillows, only to find Sander crying.

“I just don’t know if this is all worth it,” Sander would weep, not bothering to wipe the tears from his eyes. “I’m so tired and I miss you and I don’t know if I can do this.”

Robbe pulled Sander closer, snuggling into his chest. His heart ached to see how hard Sander was working, how much stress he was putting on his body and mind. But he knew Sander.

“I know, Sander,” Robbe would say gently. “I know this is all so hard right now. But you are working so hard and soon, all of that hard work and effort and struggle will be worth it. You are doing so well. Don’t give up now. I’m here for you.”

Then, Robbe’s calm, soothing voice would stop Sander’s tears and he’d fall asleep, his breath even and deep. Robbe knew it was hard on Sander. It had been hard on him, too. He’d been trying to be the best support system to Sander, while juggling a full course load of university classes and regular visits to check on his mom, who had slowly been getting better the past year or two.

Robbe wanted to be a good caretaker, and he shouldered the responsibility without malice or resentment. He felt such deep love for the people in his life, and their happiness and well-being was his happiness and well-being.

But he had to admit, at times, it was tiring. He’d stay up late into the night, using a weak table lamp to do his homework at the kitchen table so he wouldn’t disturb Sander’s all-too-crucial sleep. He’d sometimes forget a meal and only remember to feed himself when his violent stomach rumbles would interrupt his studying. He felt so much second-hand anxiety at Sander’s meets and training sessions that he’d had to start visiting his therapist regularly again. He’d ached for the loss of the free time he and Sander had had when they first started dating two years ago, the long, uninterrupted Sundays they’d spent exploring each other in bed or going out to their favorite bar. Most days, Sander was too exhausted for sex, and too busy for dates. But Robbe wouldn’t complain. Even with all the heavy load, which only intensified when Sander qualified for the Olympics, Robbe was happier than he’d ever been. His life was good.

…..

The announcer overhead interrupted Robbe’s reverie, pulling him back to the present in a fresh wave of anxiety. Sander’s first race was starting soon and he strained through the crowds on the deck surrounding the pool to find his love.

Because the excessive chlorine had begun turning Sander’s bleached hair green, he’d returned to his natural brunette hair last year, making it harder for Robbe to find him in a crowd. But with his naturally tan skin and sculpted body, Robbe was still as smitten as ever. He’d never get over the way Sander laughed, or the gentle, yet passionate ways he’d touch Robbe in quiet moments. He had found the love of his life, the man of his dreams, and no amount of trial or difficulty or nervousness would keep him from standing right by his side for the rest of his life.

Robbe finally spotted Sander near one of the lanes, adjusting his swim cap, gaze laser-focused as he conversed with his coach. He tapped the arm of the woman next to him — Sander’s mom — and pointed out her son. She smiled at Robbe and grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly. They watched as Sander nodded at his coach’s words, shaking out his arms and legs, getting loose. Robbe watched him briefly look up to the crowds, scanning as if trying to find Robbe amidst the hundreds of thousands of people.

Robbe willed Sander’s eyes to find him, but his gaze scanned over the crowd futilely before returning to his coach’s attention.

I’m here, Robbe repeated in his mind, hoping Sander would feel the energy he was directing towards him. You can do this.

Finally, another announcement was made and a shrill alarm sounded, signaling that the race’s start was mere moments away. Robbe wrung his hands as he watched Sander roll his shoulders and neck, stretching one last time. Sander’s coach whispered one last time in his ear before slapping him on the shoulders and retreating to his spot behind him on the sidelines.

Sander mounted the block, his muscles taut and gaze intense. Robbe held his breath. The sounding signal started and Robbe’s heart nearly stopped as he watched Sander dive into the water.

……

Sander had won. Sander had won.

No matter how many times he repeated it in his mind, it still seemed surreal.

Sander had come in first place for Belgium in the 800 m freestyle and third place in the 200 m backstroke, earning himself medals that were tangible, well-deserved rewards for so many years of hard work.

Robbe had cried, his voice hoarse and sore from screaming as he watched Sander reach the finish line, emerging from the water breathless and triumphant. Robbe jumped up and down, the feeling rushing through him electric and euphoric. He threw his arms around Sander’s parents, squeezing them tightly in a group hug. Everyone was crying.

The tears didn’t stop as Sander was led to the pool’s edges to do interviews, smiling widely as he commented on his wins and shook water from his hair. The camera men had even found Sander’s parents and Robbe for a moment, highlighting them cheering as celebrations for Belgium ensued. Robbe had blushed, embarrassed at the attention, but blew a kiss he knew Sander could see on the large TV screens around the arena. They continued to sob together during the award ceremony, holding each other tightly as they watched an official place the medals around Sander’s neck. He stood beaming, smiling so wide he was practically glowing.

After the race, Robbe watched as Sander retreated to the locker rooms. Robbe and Sander’s parents followed the crowds spilling out of the arena, retreating to their hotel. Sander had hours of interviews and post-race physical therapy before he could meet up with Robbe and his family, so Robbe celebrated with Sander’s parents for a while, excitedly talking nonstop, feeling light and exhilarated by the day’s events. It made Robbe tear up at how proud Sander’s parents were of him — he felt so lucky to be able to join with them in their shared love for him.

Finally, Sander’s parents grew tired, the day’s anxiety and resulting excitement taking their toll. They retreated to their hotel room, giving Robbe tight hugs and making him promise to send Sander their way once they’d had their time together.

“And Robbe,” Sander’s mom had said, stopping before she retreated to her room. “Thank you.”

“Thank you? For what?” Robbe asked, confused.

She smiled, a genuine gratefulness lighting up her face.

“You are, by far, the best thing that has happened to Sander,” she said gently. “He would not have gotten here, accomplished what he has, without you. I know the last few years couldn’t have been easy on you two — what with his training and lifestyle — but you have completely changed his life. He is so lucky to have you. Thank you for loving him. Know that we love you, too, almost as much as he does.” She smiled again.

Robbe blushed at her words, giving her hand one last squeeze. “I love him so much, Mrs. Driesen. And you two, of course.” Robbe blinked away tears as he watched them go.

….

Robbe was so tired, he felt like even his bones were weary, but he was not going to fall asleep until he had Sander in his arms. An hour before, he’d gotten a text from him:

Sander: So sorry. The interviews took longer than I thought. But I’ve got my stuff and I am heading for you ASAP!

Robbe had smiled, so excited to hold his love. But thinking of Sander’s parents, he texted back:

Robbe: I cannot WAIT to see you, my champion. I am counting the seconds. Stop by and see your parents before you get here — they are so proud of you and want to see you, too. I can be patient. ;-)

So Robbe waited, impatiently pacing his hotel room as he replayed Sander’s wins in his mind, a smile never leaving his face.

Another hour passed, then a knock. Robbe rushed to the door, whipping it open. With fluffy hair and tired eyes, there stood his boyfriend, medals around his neck, dark circles around his eyes but smiling wide. Robbe didn’t wait for Sander to enter, or even speak, instead immediately throwing his arms around Sander.

Sander chuckled, but only softly before squeezing Robbe back tightly, then pulling back slightly to pepper him with a shower of kisses.

“Sander!” Robbe squealed out between kisses. “You did it! You medaled! I am so proud of you I can barely stand it!” He squeezed Sander again, tucking himself into Sander’s chest.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Robbe,” Sander said, whispering into Robbe’s hair. “I can’t believe we’re here.” Tears spilled out of Robbe’s eyes and Sander lifted him gently by the waist, carrying him to the bed. Laying him down gently, Sander hovered over him, crawling between his limbs. Leaving a soft trail of kisses along Robbe’s jaw, he stopped at his ear and whispered.

“I love you so much, Robbe.”

……

Robbe didn’t want to push Sander, he knew how intense and exhausting the day had been — in every way. But when Sander began kissing him urgently, with an intense need, Robbe couldn’t help but whimper, melting into Sander’s touches. At the sound, Sander pulled back, looking into Robbe’s eyes, a brief look of shame crossing his face.

“What is it?” Robbe asked, eyes fluttering open. “Are you okay?”

Sander stroked a thumb along Robbe’s cheek, tears welling in his eyes.

“I am so sorry, Robbe,” Sander said, looking down, the pooled-up tears finally spilling out. Robbe immediately sat up, reaching out for Sander’s arm.

“What’s wrong, Sander?” Robbe looked concerned, searching Sander’s face for an explanation. “It’s okay, we don’t have to--”

Sander grabbed Robbe’s hand, holding it in his.

“I am so happy to have made it here, to have competed and won,” Sander said, words tumbling out in near-sobs. “But I have put you through so much these past few years and I—” he choked, stopping to wipe at his eyes.

“Sander, don’t—” Robbe said, caressing Sander’s cheek, wet with tears. “You didn’t put me through anything. I am so proud of you, and I love you. I would do anything to help you reach your dreams. To make you happy.”

“Stop it, Robbe,” Sander said, looking down and shaking his head. “I know the last two years have been so hard for you. They’ve been tough for me, but even tougher for you. And I can see that...I’ve denied you so much, that I’ve...neglected you.”

“Neglected me?” Robbe said, scoffing. “You’ve been preparing for this moment — a huge, important moment. And it paid off! Your success is my success, okay? I’m so happy.”

Robbe laid back down on the bed, pulling Sander on top of him. “I’m so happy,” he repeated.

Feeling the genuine love in Robbe’s eyes, Sander surged forward, meeting Robbe in a fierce kiss.

…..

Robbe awoke stiff and groggy, but the happiest he’d ever been. He was sure the last 24 hours had been some fantastic dream, and now he had to wake and face reality. But when he looked over and Sander was sleeping like an angel beside him, his breathing deep and peaceful, he felt like the happiness would burst out of him.

Sander was supposed to be staying at the hotel designated for athletes across the city, but feeling generous after his wins, his coach had covered for him, allowing him to spend the night wrapped up in Robbe’s embrace. After they had desperately kissed, their eager touches turning into the most passionate and pleasurable of love-making, they both fell asleep in bliss, waking in the middle of the night to do it all again, so desperate for each other’s touch after so much time apart.

Now, Sander was stirring, his eyes fluttering open and smiling when he felt Robbe’s gaze on him.

“Good morning, my champion,” Robbe said, snuggling back into him and stroking his cheek with a thumb. “How are you feeling today?”

Sander growled, tackling Robbe onto his back and diving down to nip at the skin of his neck, making Robbe squirm in a fit of giggles.

He pulled back only slightly, brushing his nose with Robbe’s.

“Should I order food?” Sander asked, following it with a kiss to Robbe’s lips. “I am starving.”

“Me, too,” Robbe said, biting his lip. “Starving.” Sander raised his eyebrows, the corners of his lips lifting in a smile before running a hand up Robbe’s thigh.

“Well, in that case,” Sander said. “I can’t have my boy going hungry, can I?”

….

The sat facing each other on the bed, shirtless, feeding each other bites of breakfast as they laughed and Sander recounting every second of his races to Robbe, who listened enraptured.

“You really did it, Sander,” Robbe said, leaning over to give him a kiss. “You are an Olympic medalist! Gosh, how hot is it that I’m dating an Olympic medalist?! Wow.”

Sander laughed at this, but only for a second before jumping off the bed to rifle through his bag.

Concealing something in his fist, he returned to the bed, smiling wide.

“What?” Robbe asked, taking a sip of juice. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“I don’t know, I’m happy,” Sander said, shrugging. “And I like hearing you call me hot.”

Robbe laughed. “Well, it’s true,” Robbe said. “Anyone would love to have an Olympic medalist in their bed. Especially one as sexy as you.”

“Well,” Sander said, sitting up and clearing his throat. “Would they like to be married to one?”

Robbe choked on his last bite, a laugh turning into a cough. “What?”

“I said,” Sander said, shifting to his knees on the bed, his voice serious. “Would anyone like to be married to such a person?”

Robbe’s mouth dropped open as Sander opened his palm, revealing a silver band.

“Sander….” Robbe said, his breath becoming rapid, shallow. “What are you—”

“Robbe IJzermans,” Sander said, a face-consuming smile lighting up his face. “I am so in love with you. I bought this ring a year after our first swimming lesson. I’ve wanted to ask you this every day after. Will you marry me?”

“Sander,” Robbe gasped, tears welling in his eyes. “You want to marry me?”

“More than anything.”

“Well, then give me that ring!” Robbe said, laughing as the tears fell. “Of course I will marry you.”

In just a few hours, Sander had to be back with his teammates, with his coach, back in the world of chlorine and interviews and ceremonies. But for now, the two wept together, smiling and kissing through wet eyelashes. And in that moment, Robbe had never been so grateful for that tall, blonde boy who had offered to teach him to swim.

#wtfock #wtfock fanfic #swimmer sander #sobbe fanfic #DO YOU HAVE CAVITIES FROM THE SWEETNESS?#epilogue #two fics in one day? WHO AM I

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babiedeku · 5 years ago

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coffee date?

“It’s gym class and we’re playing volleyball and you spike really well and you manage to hit the ball square in my face and I think I’m bleeding and you’re apologizing profusely and it’s okay but you’re really cute so I guess I’ll take you up on that offer for coffee” AU.

this is my first time to write for nishinoya and a haikyuu character in general (im sorry in advanced if they seem ooc) i hope i did good (i accept constructive criticism btw!) but here’s the lil thing i whipped up! i hope you guys enjoy! - marianne

list of cute aus

requests are open

Summer training for both the girls and boys volleyball clubs were not uncommon, and joint practices and training were something that both teams looked forward to each year, because it meant going head to head with people that they normally don’t have matches against and it meant getting to hone and sharpen their skills, maybe even picking one or two new ones up.

“Time to practice your spikes!” Coach Ukai yelled.

A resounding chorus of affirmations echoed throughout the gym as both teams gathered on one side of the net, leaving Nishinoya and the libero for the girl’s team on the other side to practice receiving the spikes.

“Bring it on!” Nishinoya yelled out with a massive grin on his face, getting in position.

Nishinoya was enjoying this joint training, and this is the one thing that drives him to be able to get through the academic year. Not only does he get to improve his skills as a player and get to spend more time with his teammates, but he also gets to bask in the wonderful and lovely presence of girls.

He, along with Tanaka, are very much into girls, but not to the point where they are considered as perverts and stalkers, Nishinoya would never disrespect anyone, let alone any girl, like that, no, their longing of having someone by their side to share their affections with and take care of them and vice versa merely fuels their love for admiring girls.

Receiving spikes from the girls team, Nishinoya was having a field day as adrenaline and excitement ran through his veins, he got to show off his skills a little and play at the same time.

You, on the other hand, were nervous. Having recently joined the volleyball club in your second year, this was your first time getting to participate in the joint practices for both clubs. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your seniors and juniors, and the mere fact that there were also boys watching was not doing your nerves any good.

“Ah, you’re nervous, (Y/N)!” Yui said quietly, a small smile on her lips.

Nodding, as you bounced the ball onto the hardwood floors to try and busy your mind. “Yeah, but it’s all good though, we get to improve together anyways, right?” You offered her a smile, it reflected how nervous you were, but it was still a smile, and Yui was more than happy to see you trying to psych yourself up.

The team captain then gave you a slight shove up to the white line where everyone was practicing their spikes. “Then show ‘em what you got, Ace!”

Right, you thought to yourself, I’m the ace of this team spiking shouldn’t be so hard.

Taking a deep breath to calm your raging nerves, you bounced the ball and smiled inwardly, the ball had a nice heft to it and fit snugly against your palm. Bringing your eyes up to look across the court, immediately zeroing in on the boys’ libero as he stood waiting for the ball.

You exhaled slowly, twirling the ball in your hands.

Kiyoko blew the whistle, and your body went into autopilot.

You tossed the ball into the air, adrenaline was already coursing through your body as you ran after it, jumping into the air you could clearly see the other side of the court and everyone that stood there, and without any further hesitation you slammed your palm into the ball.

Nishinoya took one look at you and was absolutely smitten.

Your eyes gleamed with a fiery burning passion behind them when he met your gaze the moment you jumped up to spike, you were smiling adorably, too, just genuinely happy to be able to play, and oh lord, your form midair was gorgeous you almost jump as high as Hinata, but what really caught his attention was how strong your spike was, you sent the ball down with a resounding sound.

Kiyoko-san who? All he could see was you and how amazing an amazing spiker you were.

He couldn’t even tear his eyes from the ball, it was beautifully aimed where the middle blockers would be, but the force behind the spike would immediately have it break past their hands and have the other players scrambling to keep it in air.

Stepping forward to receive the ball, he noted that it was close than he had expected, but before he could even comprehend what was about to happen, his vision went black.

“Nishinoya!” The boys’ team captain, Daichi, exclaimed, their entire team rushing to help the poor boy in any way they can.

Running to where they were, and pushing past the people to be able to get a better look at the libero who you just whacked in the face with the ball. “N-Nishinoya? Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I-”

Nishinoya was still sprawled on the ground, his head being cushioned by the jacket that Coach Ukai had discarded, and he was pretty sure his nose was broken and that there was blood streaming down his face, but still managed to smile. “S’okay, it happens!”

You were apologizing profusely to everyone about everything, about disrupting practice, potentially giving someone a concussion, having a bad aim -

Wait.

A bad aim?

You think you have a bad aim?

But before Nishinoya could even think about opening his mouth, Sugawara spoke up, offering you a gentle smile to help you relax. “It’s not your fault he got hit in the face, (Y/N), he’s just too distracted around girls. And that spike was amazing what are you even going on about? That would have destroyed us in an actual match!”

Blushing at the praise that you received, you couldn’t help but smile at their Vice Captain. “Thank you, Suga-san. But I still feel bad, is it okay if I were the one to tend to Nishinoya-san?”

At the mention of his name, the boy perked up visibly. You’re going to take care of him? Today just might be the day that he dies a happy man.

“I think I hit my head pretty hard, too, Cap.” Tanaka whined, wanting to be taken care of as well.

Ennoshita smiled warmly, but delivered a harsh whack to the back of the boy’s head. “Let’s just continue training, yeah?”

Both teams dispersed, leaving you to help Nishinoya onto the bench in the farthest corner of the gym to be able to help patch him up and stop the bleeding of his broken nose.

Nishinoya was silent, unable to find the words to even say to you as to took care of him. He isn’t sure if the ball to his face also gave him a possible concussion, but he was practically floating on cloud nine having such a pretty and talented girl fuss over him.

He took note that you had freed your hair from the ponytail it was in earlier, your long locks framing your face beautifully and it smelled so good and looked so soft, and your cheeks were still flushed from Suga-san’s praises earlier, and oh god your skin was so soft. You were so pretty Nishinoya could weep.

“I really am sorry,” You said quietly, breaking the silence, the guilt finally setting in as you finally realize the gravity of the situation, gently wiped the blood on his face. “I got carried away I guess, but I really didn’t mean to -”

Nishinoya grabbed your wrist that was wiping at his face, he could take a hundred balls to his face and walk away like nothing happened, but he won’t tolerate you belittling your amazing ass spike just because you hit someone in the face.

“Stop, apologizing. That spike? Was amazing! I mean it hurt like hell, but you were amazing!” He was suddenly bursting with energy, as he recalled how you spiked the ball, his brown eyes sparkling with such excitement. “You’re the ace I’m guessing?”

Smiling at the libero in front of you, you couldn’t help but feel so touched at his praises because he said it with such sincerity and reverence that left no room for arguments.

“Still doesn’t change how bad and sorry I am for hitting you in the face like,” You said sheepishly, peeking up at him through your lashes. “How about I make it up to you? I can take out!”

“Like on a-a date?”

Laughing a little at how Nishinoya blushed at the thought of going out on a date with you, you found it adorable. “I’ll take that as a yes then, we can go to that coffee shop down the road after training. Though, in the meantime, I’ll call Takeda-san over to realign your nose.”

With that said, you gave him one last smile before making your way to the bench where their coach and advisor sat.

Nishinoya sat there, with the dopiest look on his face and an adorable blush adorning his cheeks, thanking every possible deity there was for getting hit in the face with a volleyball.

#nishinoya yū #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya yuu #nishinoya yuu x reader #haikyuu!!#nishinoya yuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagines

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doyouever-daydream · 5 years ago

Text

Story of Boy Meets Girl

A/N Here I am writing the date I wish I’d have with Spencer Reid but instead I am at home, writing fanfiction for our entertainment, be safe, dear humans!

I wrote this while listening to the When Harry Met Sally score and the (500) days of Summer soundtrack, that’s how I came up with the title, hehe. Also I am a plant nerd (but there might be some mistakes) and for this fic I downloaded a book about the USBG and saw a 20 minute tour on youtube (which is a great thing to do while on quarantine) and I fell in love and now I wanna go so bad, so if you also like plants hmu and I’ll share the links.

First oneshot for my BAU does Blind Dates series for the prompt blind date for my @cmbingo card

Summary: Both, Spencer and (y/n) have no expectations for their blind date, but their mutual friend Penelope seems to think they can be good together so they’ll just have to find out while they visit the U.S. Botanic Garden.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Femal reader

Warnings: None.

Word count: 2183.

My other nonsense

Penelope was out shopping with her friend y/n, they had met in a hand embroidery class a few months ago, (y/n) was a salvation for Penelope, she was still adjusting to her new job, and her best friends (and boyfriend) were extremely busy fighting bad guys so having her made Penelope feel less lonely. (y/n) on her part wasn’t very social, she got along with her coworkers and most of her close friends were back in her hometown, so for her, Penelope also was a gift from her lucky stars.

“What’s got you smiling so big Penelope?” (y/n) asked while they were at a vintage dress store.

“Luke’s coming home from a case today, they wrapped the case sooner than they thought” She showed the text message to her friend.

“That’s great, hopefully he won’t get another case during the weekend”

“I hope so, I really want to spend some days with him without stressing about his safety and the rest of my friend’s safety as well” Penelope sighed, the team have been away many days in some difficult cases that had her nerves on the edge.

“You will, I’m sure you’ll have a great weekend together.” (y/n) smiled at her.

“What about you, huh? What are your plans for the weekend? Any hot date?” (y/n) laughed.

“Ha! No, just me, my plants and comfort food” She sighed.

“Hey, you’re young, you have more than enough time to find someone” Penelope knew she had been struggling with her personal life. Or rather the lack of it.

“Can you call my mom and tell her that too? She has baby fever, or grandchildren fever, I don’t even know how to call it.” She placed of her hands in her face getting anxious just thinking about it.

“What about you? Do you pressure yourself to be in a relationship? To have kids?” Penelope carefully asked.

“Well… I did before, all my friends getting married and me just being the single one, I felt like I needed someone but then I just let it go, and that’s the way it’s been my whole life, everyone with their boyfriends, girlfriends and me, the independent woman that moved half across the country from her family and friends to work in a place that I loved”

“I understand, trust me, I completely understand the need to find someone just so you stop being the single friend but sometimes you just gotta let it happen.”

“I know, I know but I can’t even remember the last date I had!”

That’s when Penelope had an idea.

“How would you feel about a blind date?” (y/n) looked at her with an amused face.

“You know me, I’m too shy and awkward to go on blind dates”

“Let me try, I can be a really good matchmaker, please?” (y/n) thought about it, Penelope had been playing with an idea in the back of her mind for a few weeks, she even talked to Luke about and he supported the idea so she thought she might go through it.

The next thing (y/n) knew, was that she had a date for Saturday with one of Penelope’s friends, she was too nervous, but Penelope and even Luke reassured her that she’d be fine.

“Uhm, excuse me, are you (y/n) (y/l/n)?” A tall guy with light brown hair asked her.

“Yeah, you must be Spencer, Spencer Reid” Both of them had shy smiles on their faces, hoping their mutual friend was right and they could have a nice day.

“Shall we go in?” He signaled to the entrance of the United States Botanic Garden.

Once they started to walk through the gardens of the USBG, they realized they hadn’t talked at all.

“You chose a beautiful place, (y/n)” Spencer said while he looked around and put his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“Thank you, have you been here before?” She asked in a low voice, feeling really awkward.

“Just once, many years ago, I brought my mom” He remembered fondly that one time her mom had visited him and the only thing she wanted to do was visit the USBG.

“That’s amazing, I want to bring my mom here but she haven’t visited me” She was feeling more relaxed.

“Oh, where does she live?”

“California, she lives there with my dad, and well, all my family and friends are there” Spencer could see the sadness in her eyes.

“How long it’s been since you moved?”

“A year and I’ve seen them, I fly for Christmas and Thanksgiving but I’m not the most social and outgoing person so it’s been a little tough on me” She confessed and he smiled sympathetically.

“I understand, I don’t have many friends beside my team, and Penelope, she changed her job but yeah, it’s just them” He awkwardly explained.

“Introvert life, I get it” So far (y/n) was feeling more at ease with this nice and good looking stranger. “I think that’s why Penelope came up with this idea”

“Yeah, maybe that was it” He looked at her and smiled, and suddenly his mind went blank, he didn’t know what to talk about so he did one of the things he did best: telling facts “The story about this place is quite interesting, the first idea for its creation goes back as far as 1796, botanical studies started to be more prominent during the eighteenth century but the creation of it officially started in 1820…”

Spencer started to quote almost the entirety of a book he had read about the U.S. Botanic Garden, and as they walked through it and (y/n) listened fascinated by the way he talked. Once or twice she had made her own comments about what she knew and soon enough they were comfortable with each other.

Once they entered the Tropic exhibit, (y/n)’s face lit up, Spencer noticed that and stopped talking for a second.

“This is my favorite part of the whole place, I love seeing all kinds of greens and their contrast, also here they have calatheas which are my one of my favorites” Spencer smiled as he listened to her.

“Ah, calatheas, some people refer to them as a family of plants when in reality they are…” He was interrupted by an overly excited (y/n).

“A genus of plants, they belong to the Marantaceae family, sorry, it’s just I really love this exhibit” She blushed.

“Oh, don’t worry, do you come often then?” She looked even more embarrassed, Spencer was not sure why.

“Uh, actually I work here” (y/n) confessed as she bit her lip.

“Really? Oh, wow, I never asked what you did, and what it is that you do?” He was pleasantly surprised.

“I have a degree in Botany, I moved all the way from California to work here, today’s my day off obviously, but I always thought it would be nice to have a date here, it’s a place I know like the back of my hand and here I could have something to talk about” She was worried Spencer would think she was pathetic for wanting to have a date at her workplace instead he was worried he had been talking too much.

“Oh God, you love this place, you work here and I just told you things that you probably already knew, I am so sorry” It was his turn to blush.

“Don’t worry, I enjoyed listening to you, I knew some things but not all of them, and I just really liked knowing there is someone else that knows the history of this place, it was really nice” Being the awkward person she was, her face was now as red as a tomato.

Spencer only smiled at her and decided to look carefully at the plants, something (y/n) was grateful for, as she tried to regain her normal color.

“Come on, let’s go up to my favorite spot” Once they were there, Spencer understood why she liked that specific spot.

They looked down from the mezzanine and could see the beauty of the whole exhibit.

“What do you think?” She asked with a small smile.

“It’s beautiful, I don’t think I came up here before” He felt happy as to how the day was turning out, not only the whole place was a delight but the company of (y/n) was wonderful “Add some weeping angels statues and it would be even better”

“Oh, and maybe a TARDIS” He turned to look at her, he was shocked she had caught the reference.

“Do you watch Doctor Who?” (y/n) looked at him and then back to the scene below them.

“No, I don’t” Spencer’s smile faded just a little, she was still great and he was hopeful they could go out again.

“Penelope does and she talks about it so much, once she did an embroidered TARDIS, and that’s why I got the reference” She played with the fabric of her blouse.

“I am really glad that Penelope thought about this” He said looking at her.

“Yeah, me too” She nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“Would you like to have coffee?” He dared to ask.

“Sure, when?” She replied while looking at him in awe, she couldn’t believe the date had gone far better than she had expected.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders and looked around “What about now?”

“Yeah, let’s go”

Once they were at the coffee and had ordered, they sat down close to a window.

“So what do you do at your job?” Spencer asked while sipping on his coffee.

“I am a part of the conservation team, but the past few months I’ve been more focused on coordinating activities and the creation of programs for visitors, and I love it, it’s different from what I thought I would do but I enjoy doing that” She held her mug tightly and Spencer sensed there was more to it.

“Was that the position you originally wanted?”

“No, I wanted to work with plants and only plants, but then the opportunity presented and I took it and loved it but my family thinks that I moved across the country for a job that’s not entirely related to my degree, and it’s pretty much a desk job which is not true, but I can’t seem to make them change their minds” (y/n) looked sad.

“Are you close with them?”

“Very, moving here was by far the hardest decision I’ve ever made and I don’t regret it, but it’s been tough” She looked out the window and Spencer looked at her empathetically.

“I imagine this has been difficult but I’m sure you’re doing an amazing job, I’ll try to go more often and participate in the programs, I’m curious as what you and the USBG has to offer” (y/n) smiled and took a sip of her coffee.

“Thank you, Spencer, but enough about me, I don’t know much about you, I know you’re a profiler but I am unsure as to what a profiler does, care to elaborate on that?”

Spencer nodded as he went on to what his job was about and (y/n) listened with amazement in her eyes, she knew the BAU chased down bad guys but she didn’t know exactly how they did it.

The stayed there, both of them drinking cup after cup of coffee, and talking about everything and anything, by the end of the afternoon, they both felt as if the had met each other for a lifetime.

They both walk back to the metro station together and Spencer is feeling unsure as to how he could suggest seeing each other again but (y/n) beats him to it.

“Spencer, I really, really enjoyed today, thank you for coming”

“Of course, I also had a great time today”

“Should we do this again?” She bit her lip hopeful he would agree.

“Go the US Botanic Garden?”

“Oh, not necessarily, I meant go out, I could use some company and I enjoyed yours”

“Ok, yeah, yeah, I would love to see you again” He’s smile was so big his eyes squinted and she felt her heart beat faster.

“Ok, you got my number, right?”

“Yeah, I saved it when you texted me” He pulled out his phone and held it up as if to prove he wasn’t lying.

“Have a good night” She smiled and waved at him, both of them had to take the metro in different directions so she started walking towards the opposite of him.

“You too, (y/n)!” If anyone looked at Spencer they could see the heart eyes he had while seeing the girl walking away from him.

As he was ready to start his way home, he felt a tap on his shoulder and as soon as he turned around he received a hug from (y/n).

“Bye, text me when you’re home” She whispered in his ear and pulled away to start her way once again.

He stood there watching her walk away, being unable to move, remembering to call Penelope the minute he got home to thank her a million times for setting them up.

#cmbingo20 #cmbingo #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfic #spencer reid x reader

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whatsseobb · 5 years ago

Text

Something Old, Something New (Crystal x Gigi Fanfic) - Chapter 9

AO3 Link

[A/N: I just love this Gigi look so much I had to include it here. ^_^]

Synopsis: Crystal finds an enchanting jewelry box from the antique shop. Day by day, she discovers different journal entries hidden inside the box. Where is it coming from? What exactly is the music box? Most importantly, who is G?

Chapter Nine - Your Smile

The teenage girl found herself confounded at the information she just read. Gigi. 1959. Gigi. 1959. Those were the thoughts that echoed in her mind as she stared at her laptop screen. How is that even possible? She read the whole article, looking at the pictures of newspaper articles about the art contest. She also saw some pictures during the competition, even a picture of the winner. Her hands scrambled its way through her desk, looking at the letter and the photograph that Gigi sent her.

“Smith Memorial Art Contest had been held every fall for almost a decade in honor of Doctor Charles Smith. It was mostly dominated by men for the first few years of the competition. However, a female student from the small county of St. Clair, Illinois broke the record in 1959.”

Crystal spent the night thinking of the possibility of Gigi living her life back in the 50’s. Questions consumed her mind that she forgot to congratulate the girl or greet her good night. She woke up feeling tired, dark circles under her eyes.

School and her school works weren’t able to help distract her from the revelation she just discovered the night before. It hadn’t left her mind since the last evening. She sat by her desk, staring at the picture of Gigi beside the drawing she made of them few weeks prior. Suddenly, the jewelry box started playing music, telling her that the other girl sent her a letter which she decided to read the next morning.

The letter from Gigi suddenly felt surreal. The thoughts of the other girl coming from a different era remained unbelievable for her. It didn’t feel right, but it wasn’t wrong either.

She found herself lost in her thoughts as she stared at the drawing of them on the side of her mirror. Slowly, things started to patch together, as if like slowly completing a puzzle. Gigi’s handwriting, her choice of words or clothes or the way she sent her those old photographs. It never occurred to her why she did not ask her of her phone number or anyway she can contact her online but it all made sense. She couldn’t. It was because she was from a different time than Crystal.

The next afternoon, Crystal found herself walking towards the thrift shop that her friend Jackie owned. She was greeted with a welcoming smile from the owner.

“Miss Crystal, how are you?” Jackie spoke as she put some trinkets on the shelves. “There is a new batch of sweaters that arrived yesterday. It’s just back there.”

“Do you still have that painting?” The teenager walked over the art section, scanning the place for the art piece that she had her eyes on the last time she went to the store.

“Which one? There are a lot of paintings there.”

“The portrait of a girl. It’s this smiling girl.”

It took her a few minutes before she spotted the painting. A big smile flashed on her face as she recognized the portrait that Gigi painted. Her fingers slightly stroked the edges, running her thumb on the signature on the lower corner of the artwork. It definitely was Gigi’s work.

Crystal left the shop feeling triumphant and excited as she take home the portrait that Gigi made. The memory of that dream when she met the scarlet-haired girl, the one when the other girl showed her a sketch of the two of them together. However, the reality of them being separated by time haunted her as she made her way home.

Her hands dropped on her side, the teenager walked on a field of green grass, her fingers touching the flowers surrounding her. She continued her stroll until she arrived on a clearing, a small lake at the end of her view. There, she saw a young lady, sitting down while reading a thin booklet. She moved closer towards the picnic area when she saw the same portrait she just bought from Jackie’s thrift shop.

“Finally.” The young lady let out a soft sigh as she put down her book before standing up and wrapping her arms around Crystal. “You made me worry. I am glad you are here now. I missed you.”

Crystal remained quiet as she sat down beside Gigi, looking inside the picnic basket as she tried to distract herself from looking at the other girl.

“Are you all right? Is something wrong, Crys?” Gigi’s soft voice echoed in Crystal’s ears. She looked up at the girl and gave her a small smile.

“No no. I’m fine. Congratulations on winning, by the way. I’m sorry I was just busy with school works so I had no time to send you a letter. I got caught up with everything.” The teenager tried to liven up her voice but she knew what she said was a lie. In fact, she was trying to avoid Gigi after the information she learned.

“Oh, no problem and thank you! I brought it here with me today. I was planning on giving it to you in reality. I just didn’t know how. Maybe you can send me your address and I’ll gift it to you!”

“No need.”

“What do you mean? I want to give it to you as a gift.” A hint of disappointment was heard from Gigi’s voice as her sweet smile turned into a frown.

“I… I actually just bought the painting. Your painting.” Crystal whispered in a low voice, not expecting Gigi to actually hear it.

“Bought it? But it’s not for sale… and how?”

Crystal picked up the frame and a faint smile crept on her face as she stared at Gigi’s artwork. “You did really incredible on this one, Geege. I love it very much.”

As if what she heard earlier was nothing, Gigi’s frown slowly shaped into one of her honey-dipped smiles. She was fascinated and thankful that Crystal loved her work. “Thank you. It’s actually you, in that painting. Your smile is my happiness.”

The corner of Crystal’s lips formed a bigger smile then dropped after hearing Gigi’s words. The young lady must’ve noticed the change in her mood. She put her hand on top of Crystal’s hand which the teenager pulled away in an instant.

“Crys, darling, what’s wrong?”

Silence filled the area as the teenager slowly put down the painting. She turned to look at the lake in front of them, staring at the vast horizon. It was getting a bit dark but they both didn’t mind. They were focused on just the two of them, sitting there by the lake.

“Everything. Everything’s wrong.”

The look of confusion painted on Gigi’s face as she took Crystal’s hand once more. She caressed it softly, trying to comfort the other girl. “W-what do you mean?” Her voice slightly cracked as she gazed at her.

“I think we should stop from here.”

“Stop? Crystal, I am deeply confused with everything you are telling me right now.”

“We can’t go on anymore. We have to stop this delusion. We have to stop writing to each other. We have to… end this.” Crystal’s voice broke off as she shared her sentiments to the scarlet-haired girl in front of her.

“W-what do you mean? Why? How can we stop now?”

“I don’t know. I just know that we should cut ties.”

“No. I can’t not be with you.”

Crystal covered her face in frustration as she faced the other girl. “But you have to. We can’t go on like this.”

“But I like you.”

The sudden confession from Gigi caught the teenager by surprise. She did not know what to feel as the hearing someone liked her that way especially that it was Gigi. For the first time, Crystal wanted to wake up from her dreams. She could not believe what the scarlet-haired girl had uttered and the fact that she didn’t want to tell her the truth face to face made it more difficult for her.

“No. I’m sorry, Geege.” She took a deep breathe before she continued. “We… we can’t be together.”

“What do you mean? I know it’s the 50’s and people would frown upon us. However, we don’t have to listen to them. We can be together. We’ll fight… for us.” The young lady took Crystal’s hand with her both hands but the other removed it from her grip right away.

“Do… do you not like to be with me, Crystal? I thought our date the other time went well. I thought you would have feelings for me too.”

“That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

The teenager picked up the portrait and the corner of her lips showed a small, sad smile. Her eyes darted on Gigi who was wiping her tears.

“Thank you for bringing this here and wanting to give this to me. But I saw it from a thrift shop, the same place I bought your jewelry box from. And I bought it.” She took another deep breath before continuing. “We can’t be together. You said it’s the 50’s but no, it’s not. It’s 2019 already. We are years apart. We can’t be together.”

Crystal saw Gigi’s lips moving as if saying something but everything slowly became blurry. She was hearing no sounds, except the sound of someone weeping. As she touched her own cheeks, she noticed them being wet. When she opened her eyes, she was back in her room, tears flowing down her face. She looked around and saw the portrait that the other girl painted of her. A slight pain was felt on her chest as she felt more sadness inside. It reminded her of last night’s dream.

#rpdr fanfiction #crygi #crystal x gigi #gigi x crystal #crystal methyd #gigi goode #crygi fanfiction #jackie cox #lesbian au #rpdr s12 #fantasy #letters #SOSN Crygi

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canyouhearthelight · 5 years ago

Text

The Miys, Ch. 72

This chapter is another one that fought back. There ended up being about 300 words that hit the cutting room floor so that I am satisfied with where this ends and how it transitions into events to come.

Please, don’t forget to submit your suggestion for naming the colony! I’m really excited to see your ideas, and you still have over a month to submit.

Later that week, I was in my office with Tyche, running through some personnel files. ��For once, there were no pending projects that we were working on, no major staffing changes. Instead, we were trying to familiarize ourselves with the rest of the people on the ship. Despite being over a year into our journey, we really only knew about twenty people well and were familiar with maybe a hundred or so each. Since we were responsible for any staffing decisions along with managing projects and events, it had frequently left us in a position where we were scrambling for files rather than having specific people come to mind.

I flicked away my datapad with a groan, leaning back to stretch. “How am I so behind on this?”

“You’ve been busy,” Tyche pointed out before sighing. “And you were one of the last people brought onto the Ark, on top of that.”

“Wait, what?” I surged forward to lean on my desk. “I mean, I knew we left Earth not long after I came on board, but I thought we all arrived around the same time.” Honestly, I had never thought about it.

Tyche shook her head slowly. “Soph. It took over a year to bring everyone on board. When Noah says they brought everyone that showed no detriment to humanity’s existence, they meant everyone.”

“But they only found ten thousand people.” I started chewing my lip. In the time we had been in space, I always assumed that it was due to capacity restrictions.

“And we can carry up to a million if needed,” she responded to both my spoke and unspoken thoughts. “Hang on, let me see if Simon is in class. He was actually there, so it’s literally no one on board except Noah who can explain this better.” After some poking at her datapad, she found what she was looking for. “Okay, he just got out of one class and has an hour break.” Before I could even stop her, she was hailing him. “Simon, I need you to come to Sophia’s office. It’s urgent. I’ll feed you. Chicken pot pie sound good?”

“Yeah, that works. I’m seven minutes away,” his voice responded with a worried tone. “Everything okay?”

“It’s a non-emergency, but I would like it handled as quickly as possible, preferably by you.” My eyebrows shot up at her last comment. Simon had never been her favorite person, so the fact that she would prefer he explain this instead of Noah was intriguing. As I made my way to the conference table, she grabbed three lunches from the console along with one pitcher of water and one of the tomato-orange sangria we had both fallen in love with.

By the time she was seated, Simon was coming through the door, slightly out of breath. “Okay, I’m here. What’s up? Hi, Sophia.”

Tyche pointed firmly at the empty seat. “Simon, how long have I been on board the Ark?”

His face scrunched up. “Terran time? Uh… let’s see. Subjective Terran time, it’s January 2045, so… Almost three years, why?”

I choked on the bite of pastry in my mouth. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve only been on the ship for a year and a half.”

“Two in March, actually,” Simon corrected gently. “But yeah, it took about two years to get everyone we could off of Earth. It wasn’t as many as we hoped, but… Just over ten thousand was enough.”

“I told her, maximum capacity for the Ark was intended to be one million.”

He chewed thoughtfully before swallowing and nodding. “Yeah, that was the original goal. When the Ark was being refitted, it was intended to have quarters that were essentially four beds and a small shared space with a food console, a mess hall on every other deck, and med bays on every deck. That was it, that was the entire ship. No libraries, no labs, purely the most efficient possible use of space to carry as many humans as possible to a new world.” His voice got quiet as he continued. “Miys thought it would take a few months, Terran-subjective time, to load the ship up. I mean, global population was at ten billion when we originally left Earth. It wasn’t an unreasonable estimate.”

Thundering silence filled the room, and my appetite abandoned me. When I pushed my meal way, Tyche pushed it back with a knowing look. I poked the dish with a fork a few times before addressing the elephant in the room. “But instead it took two years, and only ten thousand people made the cut?”

“Yeah…” He leaned back and took a drink of his water. I could see him trying to find the words he needed. “There’s no nice way to say this,” he admitted. “Keep in mind, I only experienced a year on the trip out and the trip back. I had no way of knowing how much time actually passed on Earth.”

Somehow, I actually did keep forgetting that.

He continued, running a hand over his short-cropped hair. “By the time we got back, the entire population was just over ten million. Ninety-percent casualties. Of the people left, there were nearly none under the age of fifteen. Everyone brought on board has their own stories of what it was like in the After, but believe me, you do not want the whole picture. The ‘nice’ version is that nearly any illness or injury was pretty much fatal, people were starving, and it was violent. And that’s the nice version.” He shook his head vigorously.

I knew that gesture. He was shaking away memories.

“Miys had determined that the bare minimum for a sustainable colony of humans was ten thousand, with a solid repopulation plan in place, but didn’t think that number would ever be needed. We expected to have strict criteria to narrow it down to a million, and instead we scoured the globe for as many as we could find, and I begged for that magical number that showed we wouldn’t be extinct.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me this sooner?” I asked softly. I could feel my brain overloading with panic before the defense mechanism kicked in and shunted it to the side. It’s over, you can’t change it, don’t dwell on it. I would weep later, in private. Eventually, anyway.

“Because you care, Sophia,” he sighed. “It would hurt you. Just knowing that anyone not on the ship was being left to die hurt you. What was I supposed to expect when you found out how many already had?”

I scrunched my face to concede his point. “Fair enough. I know it’s not anything I can change, but I can see why no one told me this while we were still in orbit.” I poked at my now-cold lunch. “So I’m one of the last people to board, we have the same number of people now that we did an hour ago, and now I know why we have more resources than we need for the trip.”

“Barring repairs,” Tyche interjected.

“Right, barring repairs apparently.”

“So… You aren’t mad?” Simon asked quietly.

I shook my head. “No, Simon, I’m not mad. Do I wish I knew sooner? Yeah. But with everything else that has happened in the last year, I honestly can’t imagine when it should have been brought up. The only reason it even came up today is because Tyche and I were trying to get more familiar with the people on the ship. One thing led to another, and…” I made a vague gesture to indicate ‘and here we are’.

“And chicken pot pie with sangria,” he mused.

“Hard conversations are easier with comfort food,” I explained. “Family secret.”

“Obviously worked on you,” Tyche muttered wryly, pointing at his plate. Sure enough, it was scraped clean.

“So, Simon. How are classes going?” I asked, trying to change the topic so I could wait to process things until later.

<< Prev Masterlist Next >>

#the miys #humans are weird #science fiction #found family #original fiction #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #aliens #apocalypse

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nlights37 · 5 years ago

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12, 18 and 20 please!

@aenarsnow gets FIRSTIES which means I answer with extra love, of course:)

Let’s GET IT

12. How do you deal with self-doubts?

Well, I get ‘em a lot, just like everyone else, your standard, run-of-the-mill ‘”This is shit, why am I wasting my time on this, it’s crap, I’ve used the same adjective like 15 times now and also how many ways can I actually describe eyes I should be doing productive things instead of writing fanfic people are gonna hate it anyway, half the people that used to read my shit ghost me at this point ughhhhh this fandom suuuuuucccckkkkkkssss and so do I!!!”

Inevitably, at that point, I email whatever I’m working on to @noordinarylines, who has explicitly good taste, and who I KNOW will be honest with me if she doesn’t like something or doesn’t quite thinking something is working.

Then she reads it an emails me back and tells me I killed her in a good way and how dare I leave her hanging there, where is the rest, hurry the fuck up because it’s crazy mean to cliffhang her like that.

That usually gets my head right. :) There are a handful of people that I interact with that are some real, genuine, ride or die people (mostly because I am horrible at things like chatting regularly, etc - like I will genuinely completely fuck up my IRL day if I allow myself to get sucked into things like chats because I get tunnel vision and forget everything else, my full blown inattentive-type adult ADD in full effect). But there are some real ones out here, and they know who they are, and if I think an idea is maybe worth a shot but I wanna bounce it off someone, or I want another set of eyes on something because I’ve stared at it so long I genuinely cannot tell if it’s any good, I reach out to them, and they set me straight.

Once I post something, tbh, I just let it ride, because it’s out there, and the people whose opinion I care about the most have already told me what they think, so I’m pretty satisfied with that. If other people don’t like it they can suck my ass at that point, because I ain’t changing SHIT hahahahaha.

18. What’s your revision or rewriting process like?

Well, here’s the thing about me. I write it as it comes, and a lot of time I can feel when I’m writing it if it just isn’t fucking working. I will backtrack then and there and start over. For me, if I’m in the groove and it’s really rocking along I go with it. There’s a flow to it, and then suddenly it’s been 5 hours and you’re like ‘IT’S GOLD, JERRY! GOLD!”

If it’s like pulling teeth to write it I stop and come back to it later. With a husband, three kids, ‘virtual learning’ and quarantine, my time to write is limited, so I try to make the most of it. I run scenes for fics in my head a LOT, while I’m in the shower, or doing dishes, or folding clothes, so that by the time I get a chance to write I’ve made my mind up on exactly how it will go and I don’t have to sit there and look at a blinking cursor.

I don’t typically use a beta, not because I don’t think I need one (my frantic spotting of every damn mistake I made AFTER I post can attest to that) but more because once I’m done with something, I’m done, and I wanna post it. I just get too excited to wait, you know, like a damn puppy who pees in excitement when someone knocks at the door. I just wanna SHARE IT!

So, the tldr: I do a lot of revision in my head before I sit down to write. I don’t usually rewrite because the minute something stops flowing I scrap it :)

20. Post a snippet of a WIP you’re working on.

Here’s a sneak peek of what @noordinarylines and I have been cooking up for the second story in the Remember the Time universe:

There was something soothing, Daenerys had found, about the line where the sea met the sky, the view afforded from her council chamber one that seemed the best suited for calming her ever-frazzled nerves.

It had been five days since she had taken her tumble on the far end of the island, five days full of the most piercing grief she’d ever experienced, which was truly remarkable. Her losses, ‘til now, had been great and agonizing, but she could not shake the forlorn mood that had fallen over her since she’d found herself ripped away from what she was now classifying as a sweet, indulgent fantasy, borne of the trauma of her injury, nothing more.

And yet…

Tucked up the sleeve of her coat, always with her, was a rolled scrap of parchment, upon which she’d documented every single aspect of that lovely hallucination that she could remember. She knew she ought to squirrel it away somewhere safer, hide it from view, leave it behind so she might stop dwelling on these imaginary losses, but she could not.

It had become a talisman, of sorts, something that gave her comfort, just the scrape of it against her skin when she moved her arm as she walked.

She would be mortified, of course, if it were discovered. She was half-terrified it would slip free, and be found by another, her deepest longings read aloud. But for now, it eased the walk from her chambers to whatever task lay ahead, and so she kept it. “Your Grace?”

Daenerys turned from the wide, carved windows in her council chamber, to find Tyrion lingering, watching her with marked curiosity.

Quirking a brow, she did not answer, merely waited. Her Hand came closer, his fingers trailing down the Riverlands on the painted table as he approached. “Are you certain you are well?”

“I’m faring well, Tyrion.” She managed a tight smile, coming to stand at the head of the table, her eyes travelling over the surface rather than meeting the scrutiny in his. “A few lingering headaches, that’s all.”

“Hmmm.” Tyrion took another drink, then plucked a carved piece from the table, turning it over in his hands. When she peeked up, however, he was still staring at her. “As you say. Perhaps there is something else that troubles you?”

Dany smoothed her suddenly damp palms down the front of her coat, and kissed her teeth. “I think we shall all rest easier once we receive word from Casterly Rock, that your plan has succeeded.” It was enough to shift his focus, and there was a measure of truth in it; Missandei had been beside herself with worry over Grey Worm, and she reminded herself to ask her dear friend just what, precisely, had occurred between them.

Tyrion affected a confident air, and tucked away his wineskin, clasping his hands behind his pace and beginning to pace. “Yes, a victory is just what we need right now. And I have every confidence that we will prevail.” He kept moving, rounding the table, stopping by the depiction of the Northern Kingdom and plucking the wolf from the surface. His eyes met hers, and she froze. “How are things with our openly-rebellious friend? Have relations,” he paused, smirking, “thawed, perhaps, now that you have given him access to the mines?”

She wondered, at the keen tone of his voice, what it was he was truly asking beneath the rather mundane question. In truth, she had been avoiding Jon Snow, these past few days, at least as much as she could. The daytime hours were no issue; he was busy down in the mines, and she had seen several carts of the dragonglass he’d been so desperate for, so it seemed his search had been successful.

It was harder once the sun had departed, for they had taken to dining in the main hall, all of Dragonstone’s occupants, and though she tried desperately not to look at him, there were several times at every meal that she couldn’t quite resist. One night, in particular, he’d been seated beside her, had asked in his low, rumbling voice if her wound pained her, had inquired with a gentleness that had broken her heart anew.

When she’d told him she was well, and not to worry, that she had survived far worse, he had frowned fiercely, as though such a notion troubled him greatly, and it had taken all her strength not to kiss him then and there.

She had resisted the urge, and made cordial, cool conversation with him as necessary, but by the time she’d returned to her chambers she had thrown herself onto her bed and wept. She was tired of this, tired of weeping, of missing a life that hadn’t even existed, had not been hers to begin with.

Thank you for the ask, good sir!!!

#writer asks #ask game #jonerys #jon x daenerys #fanfic questions #I should be ASHAMED of my process #but I can't do it any other way #remember the time Part 2 sneak peek

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years ago

Text

Wicked, part three (DT royal AU)

Summary: Grayson and Y/N have been separated for the first time in their marriage and it leads them both down a path of discovering feelings they didn’t know existed.

Warnings: swearing, SMUT, angst, fluff

Word count: 5160

WICKED - SERIES MASTERLIST

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Lady Mareen seemed to be losing her mind as she paced the room, her heels clicking only aggravating the princess who simply sat at the foot of the bed that was likely the place she conceived. Likely? Sometimes their insatiable desires couldn't wait for the bed, involving walls that weren't necessarily inside their bedroom, other times bathrooms and twice before the fireplace. She remembered every place he had touched her at, but she remembered the places when she was the one desperate enough to approach him first a lot clearer.

''You're not having his child.“

Those words have brought the princess out of her daydream, the one where she imagined telling the king of the baby they would soon welcome into their lives.

''What is that nonsense leaving your mouth?!“ Y/N resumed her regality, standing tall as she glared at the lady whom she thought as her only ally in this castle aside from the few carefully placed spies.

''I assumed –'', Lady Mareen tried to defend, utterly confused by the change of heart her princess had and so suddenly, too! She expected the young woman to weep, to scream, to ask for a way to get rid of the unborn before she showed, she definitely didn't think the princess would actually revel in joy.

''You need to stop assuming things that are none of your business. Assuming gets you killed.“ Y/N practically growled, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she lifts her chin up proudly.

''This wasn't planned, you're aware of it as much as I am. I was on the pill for ten days before he first touched me and yet this happened. Nonetheless, a dragon is growing in my belly and I shall do no such thing as murder one of our own. We're a rarity nowadays and this child will inherit two thrones that I plan to unite as one eventually. This child will be your sovereign! Remember that!“ Y/N dismissed the shaken woman, aware she had been sharp with her. Once the door closed, Y/N fell to her knees and opened her bag. Trembling hands found the instructions she had skimmed before starting her therapy, trying to find the cause of their failure.

''Need to take at the same time for at least 21 days...what?!“ She nearly shrieked, finding the mistake is hers alone. How could she have been so stupid?! Not only did she not use it long enough when they first had sex, but she wasn't taking them at the same time either. She'd take them whenever she had some time away from Grayson which was usually at dinner, but other times she'd use them whenever he fell asleep after the act.

Shaking her head, Y/N picked herself up and walked over to the grand-view window with a special couch set in front, the one Grayson had placed when he noticed she loved to curl up against the window and just watch the ocean. It was yet another reason why she no longer minded the growing fetus inside her. Grayson seemed to be caring and sweet, someone who was a far cry from the hateful man she's dreamed him up to be. She couldn't be certain still and her efforts to find his secrets haven't stopped, but she took it all with a grain of salt, even her father's letters about a possible attack on Dracovia and the constant questioning on when she'd do the deed.

Her father...Would he tell her he's proud or disgusted with her for fraternizing with the enemy? Would he hate her and her baby? She wasn't too keen on the baby being a half-blood either, but her line would continue and the royal blood of ancient dragon ancestors would be preserved although diluted. She'd love this child regardless, Y/N decided as her small hand fell onto her stomach. Although her stomach was never flat, she wasn't showing either.

She wondered if Grayson would be happy about the notion or if he'd hate being a father. After all, the two rarely talked about much and all their conversations would come down to asking one another of their well being and he'd always ask if she needed something. She needed to get to know him, the real him and she would. She promised herself she'd use the time she has and finally choose the side she's on after she sees his heart for what it is.

Meanwhile, Grayson had wanted to see his wife. Very eager he set himself on a path toward their shared bedroom, praying he'd find her waiting for him. Ethan had a different idea.

''Bro, wait!“ Running after Grayson, Ethan didn't falter as he had important news to deliver. Stopping before the impatient king, the prince raised an eyebrow almost immediately when he saw exactly what his brother's problem is.

''Sporting a hard-on? Very royal!“ Ethan snickered, watching his brother's eyes darken. ''Going to see that pretty dragon of yours, huh? Bet she's always willing!“

Rolling his eyes, Grayson clicked his tongue in hopes of reserving his anger and channeling it into a much-needed session with his darling. He had never been as needy as he is now, feeling as if he is supposed to be by her side right now – as if she needed him too.

''I thought I warned you about your foul tongue, E. Watch your mouth before I have to punch it.“ Grayson threatened, receiving nothing but an amused chuckle.

''What's the worst thing that could happen, huh? It's just us talking about it and you know I'm dying to know if the carpet matches the drapes.“ Ethan whispered the last bit, pushing Grayson further toward the edge.

''I don't want her to hear and think that I'm a crude savage who will expose her privacy to the world.“

''Or she'll close the tap and put you on a sex ban? Damn, you're whipped.“ Ethan exclaimed, rubbing his scruff covered chin in thought.

''Let's just say it's much warmer when she's in my bed and if I haven't broken the streak in three months, I don't plan on breaking it tonight.“ Grayson winked, unaware of what Ethan had already realized. Ethan was forgetting to tell his brother the reason why he stopped him in the first place, but he definitely didn't forget to tell him what must be true.

''Three months and your dragon bride didn't bleed once? Or do you go for it regardless, huh?“ Ethan raised an eyebrow suggestively, hoping his brother would catch on and once he noticed those eyes widen in realization, Ethan nodded slowly with a self-satisfied smirk. There's a reason he won the wits and knowledge trials and Grayson didn't.

''You really think she might be?“ Grayson spoke out of breath, his heart skipping three beats at a time. It was hard to tell the last time he saw any hope, true hope for Astros and Dracovia to be as one, but now? If she was pregnant? That was everything for both kingdoms and them personally.

''Carrying baby dragon eggs? Sure is!“ Ethan grinned, all too happy with the knowledge that an heir would soon come and he'd be free to court her himself. He wanted nothing more than a taste and Grayson would share as every good brother would...or so he hoped.

''Fuck, I gotta go check on her! We have to see a doctor too!“ Grayson couldn't contain his excitement, his hands tangling in his hair as he pulled at it uncontrollably. His eyes filled with tears and his lips spread into a wide grin and while his legs were shaking, his mind was racing.

''Oh, wait!“ Ethan grabbed him in the nick of time, pulling him back and away as a confused expression settled on Grayson's previously gleeful face.

''We gotta go settle a rebellion. Some of our people decided to go ahead and attack Dracovia without their king's seal of approval and they've got some pretty heavy armory with them.“ Ethan whispered, unaware they weren't alone anymore. Drawn by the loud voices, lady Mareen had hidden behind a pillar with eyes wide and lips shut. She had to be quiet, to bring this information to her princess and hope she can make sense of what she heard.

''What the fuck do they think they're doing?! We're not attacking Dracovia! Especially now!“ Grayson shook his head as he began to walk away with Ethan, grabbing the first servant he found.

''Tell my wife I'll be away on official business for a while. I'll try and call as soon as I can.“ Grayson ordered, moving along as he swore under his breath, his fingers already dialing his commander in chief to quell this rebellion before there's a war to fight because of their stupidity. After all, how could he ever tell his pregnant wife that his people tried to start a war? How would he worry her now when she's most vulnerable? It is hard enough to know she is alone and he can't even see her and tell her of his happiness, to know he would be going to sleep alone in an empty bed.

There had never been a time where he didn't hate the crown on his head as much as he did now. He had watched Y/N walk around the gardens with her crown often, the grace she held it with and the natural strength that would ooze from her as she spoke to everyone who dared to engage in a conversation with her. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. It certainly weighed on Grayson, even on the best of days. But for Y/N? She wore the crown like a feather on her head, gracefully and with dignity. Grayson envied her.

As Grayson set off for war, Y/N was startled by her lady.

''There's a rebellion and they are trying to attack Dracovia. Your husband left to stop them.“ Mareen spoke in one breath, nearly fainting as she leaned back against a wall, entire body shaking. A servant came straight after, not giving time for the princess to speak as shock overtook her as well.

''I'm sorry to disturb you, your highness.“ The servant curtsied, waiting for permission to speak.

''It's fine. Do you have some news for me?“ Y/N tried to hold it together as her face felt like fire and her blood felt like ice. How can she remain calm when her kingdom is in peril and her husband is too? He's off to fight in a war against his own men to protect her kingdom and whether or not she'd like to admit it, Y/N feared for his safety. Keeping him alive now was both a matter of state and heart. If he shall die, so shall she. She doesn't have the crown matrimonial to keep her safe and her child would likely be killed before it's even born by the contenders for the throne. Ethan might spare her, but the baby? The baby would be why Ethan could never take the throne peacefully and she didn't know him well enough to trust they would be safe.

''The King requested me to tell you he's leaving on some urgent business and he'll contact you when he can.“

Nodding, Y/N waved the servant off as she felt herself growing weaker. She sat back on the couch the very moment she and Lady Mareen were left alone, her heart constricting tightly in her chest as the thought of what might happen pained her greatly.

''What am I supposed to do? What if he never returns?“ Y/N's voice trembled. She was shaken, down to her core. Had someone told her she'd care so much a year ago...three months ago, she'd have laughed in their face, but now? She was absolutely devastated and all she could wish for is a moment alone with him – not to touch for pleasure, but to speak from the heart.

Could she ever do that? She didn't even know if she loved him, but she did care. Her aching heart was hard to ignore, so there had to be some feelings involved.

''I hate to ask, but have your grown fond of the king?“ Mareen questioned, never aware of the lines she's crossing and Y/N was too tired to let her know.

''I'm fond of my child and my life. Whatever happens to him could bring about my imminent death...yours too, if you forgot. What happens to me will happen to you, as well.“ Y/N reminded her through cloudy eyes, trying to cover up the real reason why it hurts her so much.

The first night away was horrible. She missed his muscular arm that she dreamt was wrapped around her as much as she missed the smell of him. Her room was filled with flowers, but their scent wasn’t what she sought, but the safety and warmth of his ocean breeze spring-like perfume.

Y/N wondered what is wrong with her. What sort of woman was she that she pined for the caresses of a man she despised?

She missed him when he was gone, but it was only now that she realized how much he meant to her.

Love, lust and passion. Grayson was all three and more. It was impossible to reconcile in her mind, but the truth couldn’t be denied. She had allowed herself to fall and he was no longer there to catch her.

Barely asleep, she spent the night tossing and turning and wishing he would call. She rarely used phones back home, but ever since she came here, Grayson had insisted she has one beside her at all times. It was never used, but she craved to use it now. She’d call him if her pride wasn’t stopping her, if her mind didn’t remind her she might put him in danger by doing so as well. She didn’t want to risk either – not his safety and not her pride.

The next day dragged on and while she convinced herself it would be a good time to go through his things back in the office, she spent most her time drowsy and lightheaded as she read through the documents. Soon realizing the valuable documents weren’t just lying around his office, Y/N retreated to their room and watched the ocean from her king’s couch. It wasn’t long before night took over and she fell into a pattern of restless dreams of Grayson’s demise or worse, of him turning on her and their child.

By the fourth day of missing him, Y/N was tired of the insomnia that haunted her at night and fatigue that took over by day. She was tired of the hole inside her chest and the coldness of the empty bed. Finally, she was ready to try and use what dragons did in the olden times. Magic in her blood might be a far cry from what it was at the dawn of time, but if her mother could perform simple rituals, she decided she could too.

She sent Lady Mareen for ingredients before ushering her out for the ritual. She ordered no one to bother her, the ritual couldn’t be interrupted.

Natural rose quartz Chunk set North, amethyst cluster set West and a clear quartz set East, a circle of orange candles around and burning sage in the center. It was a base for every spell intended to get in touch with the dragon ancestors for guidance. Every royal born in the Dracovian castle had a ritual held in their honor to see what kind of a ruler they’d grow to be. Most had gotten the natural green or brown dragon as a patron, but she had gotten a silver – the same as the first Dracovian Queen – a sign of change, power and a potential for either greatness or complete ruin.

Pushing every thought out of her mind, Y/N drew in a deep breath. She waited for a sign, for some way of connecting to the dragons but no one spoke to her. Refusing to give up, she put all her willpower to test.

‘’I am a dragon as are you, I demand to see what the future holds for me.” She spoke authoritatively, gripping her knees tightly with her fingers before images started to flash before her eyes – a tower, crown on her head, a newborn son, kissing the hard wood of Grayson’s coffin as her tears soaked the material before the procession continued.

Gasping, Y/N kicked the burning sage into the fireplace as she pulled back in her anguish. She could hardly breathe as the images replayed in her head over and over again, terrorizing her as she slowly lost consciousness.

‘’Ask and you shall receive’’, being the last she hears before darkness takes over.

Grayson felt, more than saw, her presence as he entered the room. He turned slowly, his breath held. Her hair looked darker in the candlelight, its rich color gleaming against the green velvet of fresh sheets of the bed she leaned against. He could hardly speak. The nearness of her, the quiet room, the candlelight were even more than his dreams. She stared at him then slowly untied the belt of her robe and it glided languidly over her smooth skin, falling to her feet.

His gaze roamed over her as if he is unable to fully comprehend her beauty. Only when he looked back at her eyes did he see she was troubled. Was that expression fear? As if he would reject her? The possibility struck him as so humorous he nearly laughed out loud.

"Grayson," she whispered.

She had barely finished the syllable when she was in his arms, being carried to their bed, his lips already fastened to hers.

“You didn’t call.” She whispered against his lips, all too prepared for the way his hands roamed her body now.

Y/N was afraid of herself as well as of him. He could sense it as he kissed her. He'd waited a long time for her to come to him and now it seems she was more than ready to meet him without his own needs starting their lover’s dance. He was gone for a week, terrified that once he returned to her he’d find their bed was no longer welcoming for him. He expected all the work he’d put into their relationship to be washed away. He expected anything but to find her with her arms wide open. But even now, as he held her, he felt no great sense of triumph.

"That’s not why you’re sad. What is it, my darling dragon? What’s on your mind?"

His concern for her made her want to cry. How could she tell him of her pain? How could she tell him of the vision where he’d meet his end? She wasn’t the one to kill him, that much she knew. Had she been the one, she wouldn’t have cried over his closed casket. Someone had intervened with their love, a love she was having a hard time denying and she wanted to draw blood until the traitor was found.

When he carried her to the bed and the candlelight danced over her body, her breasts rising with each breath, he forgot all thoughts of anything but the nearness of her. His clothes were hastily thrown aside and he gently eased himself down beside her. He wanted to savor his skin touching hers, inch by slow inch.

When the torture was more than he could handle, he grabbed her to him fiercely. "Y/N, I have missed you."

She lifted her face to his to be kissed instead of a response. They had been apart too long to proceed slowly. Their need for each other was urgent. Y/N grabbed a handful of flesh and muscle on Grayson's back. He gasped and laughed throatily at her haste. When her hands clawed at him again, he grasped both hands in one of his and held them over her head. She struggled to free herself, but he was too strong. When he entered her, she gasped, then thrust her hips up to meet his.

He released her hands and she pulled him closer and closer to her. They made love quickly, almost harshly, before they found the sweet release they longed for. Grayson collapsed on top of her, their bodies still joined as one.

They must have dozed off, but sometime during the night Y/N was wakened by Grayson's slow rhythmic movement. Half-sleep, only half-aroused, she began to answer him with lazy sensual movements of her own. Minute by minute, her mind became deeply lost to the feelings of her body. She didn't know what she wanted, but she was not content with her position. She was not aware of Grayson's distress as she pushed him to the side, her hips never leaving his. Once he was on his back, she could finally rule him.

Grayson lost no time in wonder. His hands slid up her stomach to her breasts, her head arched back and her throat, so smooth set him aflame. He clutched at her hips, both of them lost to their rising passion as Grayson thrusted up to meet her hips, his thumb on her sensitive bud making sure she gets her release at the same time as he does. Once their dance was done, Y/N all but collapsed on Grayson’s chest and he held her close to him, her hair wrapping itself around their sweat-soaked bodies, encasing them in a silk cocoon. Neither one mentioned what ran through their minds: of the possible baby growing inside her.

‘’Mind if I ask you something?” Grayson spoke timidly, afraid she’ll find his curiosity unwanted. He promised himself to learn more about her and he had every intention of keeping that promise.

‘’Only if you tell me why you’ve come back with a cut on your cheek and several bruises on your body.” She countered easily, always ready to spar with him. He could never understand how easily she shifts between a passionate, loving fire in bed and a cold iceberg that would ignore him during the day. He’d always let her have the day to herself before, hoping she’d come to him on her own accord. But she never did. From breakfast to dinner, Grayson would only see her walking around, being kind to all – a true delight to talk to. She would set his soul alight whenever she’d glance his way, regardless if he was fully clothed in his official royal outfits or if he was just sunbathing in his briefs. Grayson craved her love, her attention and her approval most of all.

‘’Some of my people wanted to start a war and I didn’t let them. By marrying you, I’ve promised Dracovia peace and I plan to keep it.” Grayson’s solemn response had brought a flame to her cheeks. She couldn’t deny that his words had softened her, but she had to let him know what had gnawed on her.

“By marrying me, you married a country. You married a woman who’d be a queen and a queen is her country. If you ever do something to harm Dracovia and its people, it would be as if you’re harming me. I could never forgive that.” She traced circles on his chest as she shyly looked away, never quite as open and vulnerable with him as now.

“I’ll protect Dracovia with my life then. But if something happens to Astros or me, make sure you’re gone on the first ship. Don’t trust anyone.” Grayson’s words scared her. Had there been reason for him to foreshadow what she had seen happen in the near future? She shook her head as her eyebrows creased.

“I’ll protect you. If the day comes where Astros fights and your life and crown is on the line, I will protect you.” She promised, her eyes never leaving his. He wondered what happened to the girl whom he heard swear an oath to kill him on their wedding night. Whatever it may be, he was happy with the woman in his arms.

“You wanted to ask me a question?” She reminded him sweetly, smiling up at him as he chuckled in surprise.

“I wanted to ask about Dracovia. I don’t know much about the traditions and the origin and I don’t want to be a fool if you ever take me home to meet your father.” Grayson smirked as she raised both her eyebrows at the curiosity and preposition.

“Well…Dracovia is believed to be as old as time and at least twice as large than it is today – it’s rumored Astros was once a part of Dracovia. At a time where magic was real and dragons roamed the earth, humanity was growing and they were fearful of the majestic beasts. Soon, humans began to hunt dragons, kill them. Dragon keepers realized their beasts would soon be extinct, creating a powerful spell no one had ever tried before – to turn a dragon into a human.” Grayson gasped, surprised at this turn in her story and she slapped his chest playfully.

“You think this is silly, don’t you?” Biting her lower lip, Grayson shook his head.

“I find it fascinating. Tell me more.”

Reluctant, she continued. “Some dragons turned to humans easily, others weren’t as lucky. Once human, the dragons mated and started their own bloodline. At first, there were hundreds of them - some mixing with the Dragon keepers, others choosing to mate only amongst themselves. They built an empire using the gold they acquired over time because all dragons loved shiny things.” Y/N giggled, shifting so she can lay on her side and still have her leg wrapped around Grayson’s waist.

“With gold and the few remaining dragons on their side, the human dragons continued their line but have soon realized they are cursed – they would keep a part of their dragon temper, they could hardly reproduce as the magic in their blood lessened with each generation. Realizing that mating with regular humans only speeds up the dilution of their magical blood, dragons forbade for anyone to marry a non-dragon descendant by placing a death mark on their human lovers or sending them off to…well, today’s Astros. Eventually, every human that mated with a dragon descent would die. So we stopped doing that centuries ago and have only married Dracovian people who would get a dragon patron at birth.” She explained, running a line down the middle of his torso, noticing his confusion and slight fear.

“Patron?”

“Every Dracovian baby has a ritual performed in the honor of their birth. Once the ritual is performed, if the baby has a dragon patron – sort of a spirit guide, a test of magical blood still within, something that can predict how great the baby’s life will be, only then are they allowed to marry a dragon descent. It’s a rarity nowadays, but for a royal it’s still very important.” Y/N heard her husband hum lowly, his interest peaked.

“What is your patron?” Grayson smiled as she gave him a quick glance, clearly deciding if she should share that part of her soul with him. For some, their patron was sacred – a window into their soul.

“A silver dragon. Only the first Dracovian Queen had ever gotten a silver dragon as a patron. It brings about change and great potential for either good or evil.” Grayson nodded as he pursed his lips. It described her perfectly.

“Thank you for telling me.” He placed a tender kiss to her forehead, his heart full. He watched as she rolled away from him and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Grayson couldn’t stop himself from asking, too panicked to pretend to be at ease as she stood before a window – entirely naked as the moonlight bathes her skin.

Absentmindedly, her hand found its place on her lower abdomen and Grayson knew – he knew she was pregnant and for some reason he didn’t quite understand, she didn’t share the news with him just yet.

Walking up to her, he observed her curves and a few stray bruises on her hips. It was a clear sign of their insatiable desire for one another, every single bruise meant he was dying to hold her closer, tighter. Standing aside, he noticed the hauntingly sad, yet still beautiful look in her longing eyes. She stared at the ocean as if she could see Dracovia on the horizon.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” Grayson’s worry carried in his voice, evidently not trying to hide his care for her at all. He wouldn’t bother hiding it in front of anyone for this silver dragon won his heart and she was a constant in his mind.

“I’m scared.” She admitted in a faint whisper, her hand firmly set against her belly as if to protect the unborn from the danger that’s lurking - danger Grayson didn’t know existed.

“Of me?” His voice trembled as he dared to ask, terrified she might confirm it.

“No.” She smiled sadly, turning her head to meet his heavy gaze. “I feel a storm on the horizon. When the storms are raging on, no dragon can fly for long. We are creatures of fire and ice, but wind and water can destroy us easily. They destroy warriors as well.” Stepping closer to him, she placed a hand on each of his shoulders.

“Grayson, do you have anything to share with me?” She asked kindly, hoping he’d tell her the truth of what he hinted in the bed. She wanted to help him, but if he couldn’t be honest with her, neither could she. She was ready to trust him with her life, all she needed was a little trust in return.

“No.” His response is quick and short, disappointing in ways he’ll never know. Had he spoke to her honestly, she’d have proclaimed her love for him and told him of the unborn baby in her belly. Had he been honest, she’d have told him of unimaginably advanced technology Dracovia had to offer to protect Astros without being asked. She would have given him the world, possibly changed his future, but he lied to her face and her gaze hardened.

“Do you have anything to share with me?” Grayson retorted, hoping she’d tell him something – anything. She at least owed him the news of their baby.

“No.” She repeated his answer in an even voice, one that held so many secrets and yet not a single answer. Trying to pass by him, she found herself pulled back into his arms, his face close to hers.

“I have one thing to admit. I cannot hide this any longer.” Grayson let out a shaky breath as her merciless glare pierced through him. There was surely a better time to tell her, but he had to do something to melt the iceberg she’d become in a matter of seconds. And so he spoke.

“I love you.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Tags: @graysavant @yaren-ates @beinscorpio @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @accalialionheart @peacedolantwins @heyits-claire @graydolan12 @gia-kerks @justordinaryjen @dopedoodes @sunshinedolantwins @pitreshawn @melodiesforari

#grayson dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan royal au #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan series #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan fluff #ethan dolan #king!Grayson

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bensakindofmagic · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter Eighteen

A/N: look at how fucking soft he is in this pic, i'm weeping, imagine opening facetime and seeing that face

Warnings: none, just fluff

w/c: 3.1k+

Chapter Eighteen

Filming was tough. The light was sparse in Scotland at that time of year, so everything had to be ready to go the second the sun came up in order to maximise productivity. It was cold and windy, and often raining, and if it weren’t for a delightful cast and crew you would have been thoroughly miserable. You weren’t nearly so close with them as the Borhap boys, but they kept you in decent spirits. The real hardship, however, was being away from Ben. For as long as you’d known each other you hadn’t spent more than two days apart — even when you were barely on speaking terms you still saw him everyday. Your colleagues noticed how often you were on your phone during breaks (and you were sure there were some people who resented what they perceived to be anti-social behaviour), but it was because every time you looked Ben had sent you a dozen messages: pictures of Frankie, a link to a video that he thought you’d find funny, news articles that he thought would interest you, pictures he found on the internet, but more often than not just a message to say he missed you. You guessed that the separation was probably harder for Ben, given that he was the remaining party. You left for a new environment that he had never been in, and while you ached for him often, work kept you busy and there were plenty of people round to distract you. Ben was left with a hole where you used to be, an empty place on the sofa or at the table, and a sudden lack of company (though you noticed on social media that he was suddenly spending a lot more time meeting up with old friends, which made you happy). But at certain moments, like when you were standing in the pouring rain and shivering as the sunlight began to dwindle, you were desperate for him to wrap his strong arms around you and carry you to bed, where he would proceed to hold you tightly until all the chill had been chased from your bones. You felt a buzz in your pocket, somewhere in the great depths of your coat. It was a message from Ben asking when you were due to wrap for the day.

Y/N: about 5.30pm. can’t wait to have a shower i’m freezing my bollocks off

Ben: You don’t have any bollocks

Y/N: well not anymore obviously!!

Ben: Facetime at 6?

Y/N: better make it 6.30, it’s going to take a while to warm me up

Ben: Wish I was there to help ;)

You were relieved when the director declared that there wasn’t enough light and you’d have to wrap it up for the day. Performing your duties as swiftly and efficiently as possible, you raced back to your hotel room and peeled off layers of clothing that had seemingly frozen onto your skin and jumped in the shower. You stood under the water for a long while, letting it hit your head and trickle down your body, warming you up little by little. You thought back to times when Ben would be in that shower with you, and your whole body would feel as thought it was on fire, though it had nothing to do with the scalding water. But the smile that adorned your face at the memory was melancholic, and soon you longed to be out of the shower and on your laptop to talk to him. You made a cup of tea, put on your fluffiest pyjamas, and sat down on the bed to call Ben just in time. His name popped up on your screen with a now familiar ringtone.

“Hey, Benny!” you delighted as you saw his face on your screen, as close as he could feel in the present circumstances.

“Hi gorgeous!” he smiled brightly and held Frankie up to the screen to wave hello with her little paw, “I’ve missed you.”

“What, since we facetimed last night and texted two hours ago?”

“Yes. I’ve missed your cuddles.”

You sighed, you’d missed his too. The long distance would have been okay if it weren’t for how much you ached to hold each other. Day-to-day, Ben expressed most of his affection through touch and you could see more and more how tough he was finding being denied that.

“I was thinking about you in the shower today,” you mused.

He smirked, “Is that so? What were you doing while you were thinking about me?”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, “That’s not really what I meant,” — though the question was certainly warranted, Ben didn’t need to know the answer just yet — “I was thinking about how much I miss you holding me. Not to get too soppy or anything.”

“Well you know how soppy I am, love,” he assured. That made you smile.

“I just miss touching you — not in a sexy way! Although that too — it’s the feel of you, you know?”

He nodded, reassuring you that he knew exactly what you meant. It hadn’t even been a month and you were both struggling more than you cared to admit. You’d missed your first Valentine’s Day together, and even though Ben had sent you flowers and you’d had a long and eventful video chat, part of you felt like you were missing out. You’d spent much of the early part of your relationship hiding it from those around you, and though you had those three precious weeks to be unashamedly in love, you now felt bitterly as though you would miss the best part of the honeymoon phase.

“So tell me about your day, love.”

You related all the gossip that the day had brought, jokes shared with your colleagues, how someone had to go running off through the highlands chasing a false beard that had been torn off by the wind. He laughed in all the right places and asked all the right questions. He, in turn, told you that he’d gone to the gym (which he’d been doing more often since you’d been gone), and met with a director for lunch to talk over a possible job. He was excited about it: you could see how much he wanted it, despite trying to convince you (as much as himself) that it was early days and he wasn’t getting his hopes up. He remarked how’d he’d sneezed five times in a row which he was sure was some kind of record — you laughed but noticed how he looked a little paler than usual and how he kept sniffing, and predicted that he was about to get a cold.

You accepted the call to receive an image of Ben wrapped in a duvet cocoon with a steaming mug in hand and tissues strewn about the place.

“How’re you doing, darling?” you cooed.

“I’m sick.” His nose, red and sore, was clearly blocked. He was pale and clammy, and his hair, damp with sweat, hung limply over his forehead.

“Mm, I can see that.”

“See? I told you I couldn’t cope without you!” he whined.

“It’s just a cold, Benny, you’ll live. Just drink lots of fluids and get plenty of sleep, okay?”

He frowned, looking remarkably like a toddler who’d just been denied an ice cream, “I was looking for sympathy, not instructions.”

You laughed and soothed him as best you could. As much as you opted for the ‘tough love’ approach, you wished you could be there to make him cups of hot water with honey and lemon, and bring him a new box of tissues when he finished the last one, and cuddle on the sofa with him watching old Disney movies. You wanted to stroke his hair and tuck him into bed.

Apparently he wanted the same because after chatting for a little while, when his eyelids started to droop and his head got heavy, he quietly asked, “Will you sing for me?”

“Sing? What do you want me to sing for?”

He shrugged, an embarrassed smile lacing his lips, “I’ve missed it. You sing all the time when you’re here, the place feels empty without it. I’ve been playing music a lot but it’s not the same.”

You chuckled, and went quiet. You allowed the silence to seep into your soul, to expand inside you and push all the noise for your mind. In its place a melody began softly and it danced off your lips.

‘Looking out on the morning rain, I used to feel uninspired,

And when I knew I’d have to face another day, Lord it made me feel so tired.

Before the day I met you, life was so unkind.

Your love was the key to my peace of mind.’

The tiredness abated from Ben’s face, instantly soothed. Frown lines evaporated and his skin was left velvety smooth. His eyes fluttered closed, calmed. Even in the slightly pixellated image of him on your computer screen you could see how he ached for you, and how your voice helped to soothe that pain.

‘When my soul was in the lost-and-found, you came along to claim it.

I didn't know just what was wrong with me till your kiss helped me name it.

Now I'm no longer doubtful of what I'm living for,

’Cause if I make you happy I don't need to do more.’

It seemed the more Ben was dulcified, the more your own agony grew. The softness of him was intoxicating, and it exposed how much he needed you. Guilt flared in you at not being there to look after him, and your own selfish desire to be near him added a sharp longing to your cocktail of grief.

‘Oh, baby, what you've done to me,

You make me feel so good inside.

And I just want to be close to you,

You make me feel so alive.’

His head got heavy, his shoulders relaxed as he leaned back on the sofa, and slowly you saw sleep settling weightily over his features. You indulged yourself by watching him for a few moments, chest rising and falling steadily as he began to snore, but soon the pang in your chest became too intense to bear. You whispered, “I love you,” into the boundless space between you before ending the call and quickly opening a new window on your laptop.

———

Ben had been feeling particularly sorry for himself. He never coped very well when he was ill (being a frequent sufferer of man flu), but this was worse than usual. For starters, he didn’t get sick very often anymore so when he did it felt all the worse, and he hadn’t been this unwell in a while, and to top it all off, Y/N wasn’t there to look after him. Every morning he’d wake up in an empty bed, hardly able to breathe and feeling like his whole face had been plugged up. He’d drag himself to the kitchen, cocooned in his duvet, get himself some hot water and a piece of toast because that was all he could bring himself to make, before collapsing on the sofa, drifting in and out of sleep, some crappy movie on in the background, and ordering food when he couldn’t be bothered to get it himself. He was pretty sure that you would have been horrified had you seen the state of him — he didn’t like to look in the mirror because it frightened him how much he looked like a ghost of himself — but really he just wanted you there to look after him. He kept finding himself daydreaming about you, whispering soothing words to him as he slept, holding him close against your body. Sometimes he got so lost in his imagination that he could almost feel the touch of you, and for a moment convinced himself that you were there, that you would sit down next to him any second with two cups of tea and some sassy remark. To be honest, he had been like that most of the time you’d been away; he had felt the void of you more acutely than he had anticipated. But this constant state of semi-waking delirium had amplified it. So when he heard a knock at the door, thinking that he must have ordered take-away and forgotten but opened it to find you there with an armful of groceries and a grin, he assumed he was dreaming.

He sighed melancholically, “Y/N.”

“Oh Benny, are you okay?”

Your tone didn’t seem right. You never sounded worried in his imagination, only gentle and calm. His heart started to beat faster.

In a voice that sounded far away, like he was underwater, he heard you say, “Darling, let’s get you into bed. You don’t look good.”

“Wait, you’re really here?”

“Of course I’m here,” you said, ushering yourself inside and laying your things down before placing your palm against his forehead. He closed his eyes, falling gratefully into your touch. Your hand felt cool against his burning skin, and he almost collapsed with relief to have you beside him again. He could see you were worried, your movements suddenly infected with a slightly frenetic urgency, but all he felt was elation. He let you shepherd him into bed without resistance, and drank eagerly from the glass of chilled water you placed in his hands.

You tucked him under the covers, and knelt beside the bed, stroking your fingers with the most delicate touch over his cheek. It made him shiver. His eyelids slipped closed and he felt the heaviness of the past few days evaporate into weightlessness. In those few hazy moments before sleep overtook him, still sceptical of the veracity of his own senses, he mumbled, “Will you still be here when I wake up?”

You smiled tenderly, “Of course I will, love. I’m going to look after you,”

You knew Ben was pretty unwell but hadn’t anticipated quite the extent of it. He seemed to be delirious, and the glassy look in his eyes made you wonder if he ever knew you were there. He was burning up when you tested his temperature, so you got him some water and sent him to bed. It broke your heart a little to shut him off in the bedroom as soon as you had reunited with him after missing him so deeply, but it broke your heart more to see him so sick, reduced to a shadow of himself. You kept yourself busy while he slept, walking Frankie, cleaning the apartment which had unsurprisingly fallen into a state of neglect, and getting a stew on to be ready by the time he woke. Your mind wandered back to him often, the thought of him curled up under the covers like a child. It took all your strength not to climb in next to him and cuddle him until he felt better. But you knew that would do nothing for his fever.

He woke up a few hours later and trudged back into the kitchen where you were sat quietly entertaining yourself on your phone. He’d thrown a hoodie on, pulled up over his head with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Hi gorgeous,” you beamed, standing to meet him. He looked better already; his eyes were less puffy and some of the colour was returning to his face.

“Hey,” he said hoarsely, “I wasn’t sure you’d be here when I woke up. I thought I’d dreamt you.”

You opened your arms and he shuffled gratefully into them, letting his head fall against your shoulder. He exhaled, relaxed, while your fingertips trailed gently across the back of his neck.

“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere until you’re better.”

He pulled back to meet your eyes, searching them for the truth, “Really? Won’t you have to go back soon?”

“They’ll just have to cope without me, because clearly you can’t.”

He shook his head before burying it in your neck again.

“Come on, I’ve made dinner.”

Ben ate hungrily, glad of a proper, hearty meal. You sat at the table for hours, surreptitiously filling up Ben’s glass to make sure he was drinking plenty of water, revelling in being in each other’s company again. It was bittersweet. Despite your assurance that you’d stay as long as he needed, you both knew that come Monday — Tuesday at the latest — you’d have to head back to Scotland. But for the moment you talked and laughed, and nursed Ben back to health. You decided to go back to your own apartment overnight to make sure Ben got a good night’s rest, as well as reduce the risk of you getting his cold. He made you promise him that you’d come back first thing in the morning, which of course you readily did. And when you did return, already making breakfast by the time Ben surfaced, he was looking healthier still.

“‘Morning cherub,” you cooed. “How’re you feeling today?”

“All the better for seeing you,” he smiled and hugged you from behind. You kissed his cheek and he detached himself, allowing you to hand him a hot mug of honey and lemon.

By the end of the weekend Ben was almost completely better. He had even managed to go out for a walk with you and Frankie. He could speak properly again, without his ‘m’s turning into ‘b’s, and his spirits where infinitely raised — until he saw your packed bag, ready to go again, as you sat side-by-side on the sofa.

“When’s your flight?” he sighed, disconsolate.

“First thing in the morning, taxi’s picking me up at 6.”

His shoulders slumped. “You can’t go yet, I’m still sick,” and he coughed lamely, pouting like a toddler.

“Considering you’re a professional actor, that was thoroughly unconvincing,” you deadpanned and swiped your thumb over his cheek. “I’ll come visit again soon.”

“I don’t want you to come visit,” he lamented, leaning into your hand, “I want you to come home.”

“What do you mean, love?” you faltered, frowning.

He sidled closer to you, resting a hand on your knee. He was quiet, eyes fixed on your lap, but when he looked up he was absolutely focused, intent.

“Move in with me.” It wasn’t a question.

You were overwhelmed with green. All you could see was his eyes and the determination in them, their confidence in you. The love and the warmth and the longing made them sparkle.

Your voice was hushed but firm as you replied, “Okay.”

The next thing you knew he was kissing you and your world was revolving. Everything you felt and heard and tasted was him and that was all you wanted for the rest of your life.

taglist: @anikatcmh @queen-turtle-boiii @orchideax @rogerspoison @my5secondsofneverland @mrsmazzello @ixchel-9275 @radiob-l-a-hblah @devin-marie @rogmeddows @mercurycrowley @spaghetittiesbcimgay @valeriecarolinaw @saint-hardy @caborhapch @stephanie-everlasting @coldmuffinpartycloud @drowse13 @shhhs3cret @blind-melon-taylor @ohsososophisticatedd @malfoybaby @littlepanda-love @leezie @shesakillerquueennn @borhapgrande @stfxlou @vangogh-groupie @dep-thx @hardzzellos @imjustboredso (just ask if you want to be added to the tag list! sorry if tumblr won’t let me tag you)

#kind of magic series #ben hardy #ben hardy x female reader #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fluff #bohemian rhapsody #6 underground #queen #benjamin jones

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bakutae · 5 years ago

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Hi! I just want to say thank you for taking time to read this and the many other mashup asks you're going to get, congrats on 100!! I'm a bi girl. I'm short, around 154cm tall and I have long brown hair, hazel eyes. I would consider myself nice (my friends say I'm too nice for my own good lmao) and I have a soft personality. I am really emotional so little things like raising your voice at me can make me sad and even make me cry. However, I would never hesitate to stand up for my +

hey!! i'm so sorry this took so long to be posted 😭😭 you didn't really specify for which fandom you wanted and i went ahead to check your blog and you seemed to have a lot of bts stuff on it so i decided match you up with a bts member!! i hope that's okaay

i match you up with...

kim namjoon

- honestly there isn't much of a reason why i matched you up with him

- it's more of the vibe that i get from you + the information of you that i got that lowkey sounds so creepy IM SORRY

- he's really gentle, wise, soft and i feel like he'll fit you the best hehe (not saying that the other members aren't any of the characteristics there too)

- y'all the emotionally attached duo

- remember when he said 'i just wanna give you all the shoulders when you cry'?

- he actually really does, no matter how busy he might be with work or writing lyrics

- honestly you don't even have to hit him up when you feel upset because he just kinda knows?? like the two of you are so close and share such a deep + close bond that he just has THAT feeling when you're upset (like how in that one episode of barbie life in the dreamhouse ken knew when barbie was in trouble)

- he's really interested in your hobbies and will watch you hard at work painting and will praise you for every single brush stroke ever

- "oh my god that's such a pretty stroke, you're so talented. i've got such a talented girlfriend"

- he admires every single piece of your work and exaggerates how much he loves them, but he actually really mean it and is really sincere about it

- this might sound really weird but i feel that he would rap freestyle when you are playing the guitar and it ends up being really funny most of the time

- his lyrics are really random and can range from talking about chicken wings to talking about how his stomach was hurting and how he needed to use the bathroom

- and to take it a step further sometimes even makes you record it in the studio chose to keep it for memory's sake

- when the both of you are free and the weather is clear and good enough, the two of you would often go to random fields that he finds on google maps and play soccer there

random date headcanon

//playing soccer w him in an unknown area//

- When she told you about his whole 'searching up where we will play soccer randomly' plans, you were already unsure + unsafe and felt that you two shouldn't be doing it

- "it's fun not knowing where you'll end up," he constantly says

- most of the time the places that he searched up are really nice and the two of you make it an official date place for future dates

- however, there was this one time where the two of you ended up in a secluded area and it was getting dark so the entire time you were panicking internally and was about to cry

- in google maps it described that place as a really pretty please with luscious green trees and magnificent flowers all around

- however, when you actually reached that place it was on settling to see that the place was barren and had no flowers, no luscious green trees and was just a plot of land with dead grass

- when you caught sight of that you already had red lights flashing in your head that hold you to not go further

- but after seeing the excited look on namjoon's face, you felt bad for raising your troubles up and potentially making him feel bad

- and so you went along with it

- the two of you continue on to play soccer on the bare soil but eventually the two of you got really tired and took a break halfway to to explore the place

- because you were already scared to begin with, you insisted on him being at least a foot behind/in front of you

- the two of you walk towards an unknown direction and eventually came to a stop when you found yourself in front of a picturesque scenery

- he immediately pulled out his phone to take a picture of it and wanted to post on the official bts twitter for fans

- the view was so beautiful that the both of you completely forgot what you were there for and stayed there the entire time

- it eventually got dark, and the two of you decided to head back

- of course, the two of you got lost

- you were reaally afraid now, and couldn't help but weep quietly in the dark

- he felt really guilty about it and he decided to link your arms with his and walk you through the area like that the entire time

- it made you feel a lot safer and the two of you eventually got out but you really made sure that he never ever used google maps to play soccer anymore

#bts #kim namjoon #bts matchup #kim namjoon headcanons #bts headcanon #kim namjoon matchup #100 follower event matchups

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bethd0456 · 4 years ago

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hellooo lovely! i loved reading your response to my last ask - apparently tumblr is messing up my asks bc a lot of them haven’t been going through :( but let’s hope this one does! i’ve been seeing that you watch cherry magic, and it’s one of my favourite shows at the moment!! 💘 who’s your favourite character? mine is kurosawa personally, i relate so much to him and his gayness. also udon chan, the cutest little cat! what did you think of the last ep, wasn’t it so cute!!! (1/2)

i hope you’re doing well!!! i also wanted to ask what your favourite shows and ships are! i already have a vague idea formulating just by browsing through your blog and over our shared love of cherry magic, but i’d looove to hear your thoughts and your favourites!! wishing you the bestest day! 💘 - your secret santa (2/2)

Hiiiii!!!! I hope life is treating you well!

Omg I'm so glad you enjoyed reading it! I hope you're ready for this MASSIVE answer and you don't get too bored reading this one!

CHERRY MAGIC!!!!!! It instantly became a comfort show for me, as it did for many others!

ADACHIADACHIADACHIADACHI. Adachi is 100% my fave. I never fully understood what a comfort character was. I was like, "yeah! I love Tine also!" But. Adachi is the definition of comfort for me. I see so much of myself in him! Everyone sees him and is like "babie. Must protecc." And honestly? Me too. How can one character be so damn CUTE??!?!? One of my favourite moments is him seeing Kurosawa after the almost-kiss. He just like, sees him, and gets so panicked 🥺 the way his arms just flail about makes me smile like an idiot.

But like, on a deeper level, this drama makes me believe I'm worthy of love. The idea that someone like Kurosawa could be THAT infatuated with you, even though you're an awkward virgin lmao. The point of watching these dramas is to get lost in a story, right? See a situation you want so badly but you know will never realistically happen? The entire premise of the show is just really enticing to me. I am Adachi, Adachi is me. Also, the thing he said in ep6 about not having a clear dream in life? Yeah. I felt that. I'm so envious of people who have passions they work so hard for, it gives them a form of purpose. Like Adachi, sometimes I feel like I'm living in a "daze". I feel like I don't really have any specific passions or skills that I want to develop into a career. Sometimes I just wish I had ambition. Adachi makes me feel so seen and like I'm not the only person who feels like this. The kinds of characters that usually make good protagonists are characters with a clear goal/passion. In most shows this obviously really works, but I can never relate to them personally. It's really special for me to see a character who's similar to me in this way.

Kurosawa is such an amazing character too!!!!! His gay little heart 🥺 on another level, he's just so?? Respectful??? 7. YEARS. 7 years of pining and he holds himself back so well!! He's been waiting for this relationship for so long but is so patient, willing to take things slowly for Adachi. He flirts shamelessly (as he should) but never to the point where Adachi was too uncomfortable.

He cares so much about Adachi :(. But also, even before he liked Adachi, he could tell he was uncomfortable with the drinking thing, so he DOWNED the wine lmao. Clearly he's just a lovely person all round who's really socially aware.

As for other characters:

• Udon my baby!!!! The cutest cat ever!! I love animals sm :(((

• Tsuge's chaotic energy is iconic

• Minato a lovely little dance machine :))

• Rokaku deserves the world, my excitable kiss interruptor :(((

• Fujisaki my love! She's so soft and cute!! Also ace coded how iconic

I ADORED ep8!!! I LIVE for established Adasawa! Adachi coming out to Tsuge :((( I'm so proud of Adachi coming to terms with his feelings and being confident enough to share his relationship with his closest friend. Coming out is not easy and he did so well 🥺

Adachi and Tsuge are so useless bless them 😂 Kurosawa really said "well I guess I have to take these two socially awkward disasters under my wing." Adachi and Tsuge are such a chaotic duo, I love that they can communicate just by touching each other, and omg when Kurosawa said his name Tsuge was "wait maybe I know everything about you already" and if that isn't friendship idk what is

Also Kurosawa making up a poem in his head about Adachi???? Peak romance. Also iconic. I'M A SUCKER FOR HAND HOLDING SCENES SO I DIED. "I like him. I like him. I like him!!" HOW CUTE CAN YOU GET FJKHDSHSKSK

I also got another arm flailing moment when Kurosawa almost got the wrong idea about Adachi and Tsuge!! CAN ADACHI STOP BEING SO CUTE MY HEART CAN'T TAKE IT. How on earth his boyfriend is still alive I have no idea.

There are so many other shows and ships I love. I feel like I'll probably miss some, but here we go. These aren't rankings at all, just like, lists lol.

Show list:

1. 2gether

This show means so much to me. It was the first time I watched a bl week by week and it made it so much more special?? I valued scenes so much more than when I binge shows and they would like, look at each other and I'd have a heart attack. They made the first part of my quarantine bearable bc I always had something to look forward to every Friday. I actually really enjoyed quarantine overall as an introvert (not to be insensitive about the literal deaths the pandemic has caused), but I really enjoyed constantly thinking about how long it was until Friday. I'm massively emotionally attached to all of the characters in this show you have no idea. Every single one. The found family of it all,, the way all of the characters have relationships. Still2gether did a phenomenal job of showcasing all of the unexpected but very welcome dynamics and relationships, platonic and romantic alike. I could blabber about this show for so long I'll spare u for now

2. YYY

Is it well written? No. Did I enjoy it anyway?? You know it! I told you how much I love the found family trope. UGH. THIS FAMILY. Also, seeing the feminine side of the LGBT+ community represented positively warmed my heart. There needs to be more bls that do that! Celebrate femininity!! There's nothing wrong with being camp as fuck! It's so much fun!!! This show made me so happy :))

3. Start up

I'm currently obsessed. It's my first Kdrama and holy shit this is what the hype is about. The budget!! The acting! Top notch. On a sad note I really wish bls got that much funding behind them. My heart aches for a complicated story with fully developed characters and plotlines, that just happens to have a gay main couple/character. Wishful thinking for now at least. Anyways, I'm massively emotionally attached to Halmeoni and Jipyeong. Team Jipyeong all the way (even tho Dalmi's obviously gonna end up with Dosan, and I'm happy for them!). All I need is a happy ending for my darling Jipyeong. Please give him one. Also, if anything happens to Halmeoni I will WEEP.

4. Cherry magic is obviously here but I've ranted about that enough already 😂

5. 3 will be free

I would never have expected gmm to make a series like this! But they went and did THAT. Wild. It was such a healthy representation of a poly relationship. The themes of feminism were so well handled and powerful, the chemistry was off the CHARTS, I was hooked from start to finish! Time for a rewatch? I think so.

6. Feel good

Not an Asian drama, but still gay as FUCK. It's written by my wife Mae Martin who also stars in it, and I have to say, it blew me away. Story time!! My friend irl recommended it to me without saying it was Mae, so I was like "okay sure I'll put it on my to watch list I guess" without much motivation to watch it. But as soon as I found out it was Mae I watched it and I've never looked back lol. Once I finished I sent my friend a splurge of messages about my feelings. The series touches on issues like addiction, sexuality and gender. "I'm not a boy. I'm not even a girl. I'm like a failed version of both." That shit HURT.

There's a scene near the end which has really stayed with me. So Mae's character is a comedian and she does a set making jokes about the stuff that happened in the series and oh my GOD. The way I CRIED. It made me realise that people who make jokes about their experiences are using humour as a coping mechanism and when people say "Haha I have daddy issues isn't it funny" we have to remember to be respectful. It's never okay to make jokes about someone else's trauma. Don't make a big deal of it but just don't be a dick.

Anyways I could go on but would 100% recommend this series!

7. HIStory 2 crossing the line

My first bl! This series is the reason I'm so obsessed with bl lmao. The main couple are so soft :( this little series will always hold a special place in my heart!

8. Sotus

My first gmm series, we've come a long way. I miss Kong and Arthit :(

9. Dark blue kiss

Such a brilliant series. I trust P'Aof (director) with my life. This series touches on issues that are so important and deserve to be talked about so much more in bls. This is what happens when you let LGBT people tell LGBT stories! They do it with such care and love!! One of my favourite lines is "I may like men, but I'll never like your brother." One of my biggest let peeves is "I don't like men, I only like x." Like, I get the business behind it, they don't want to make the character gay to make them available for girls to fantasise about. Which is disgusting. But Mork really said "no. ❤" and I LOVE IT.

10. The shipper

I could go on and on about how underrated I think this series is. This series took over from 2gether on Fridays, and while I didn't think about this series constantly like I did with 2gether, this series made my quarantine brighter. Fridays meant I was gonna laugh at least once and forget about life just for a short while. The humour in this series is so fucking dumb lmao, but I'm here for it.

I've seen people talk about the shipper as a bl but I disagree. I think it's better described as a series with bl aspects. The main themes are friendship, family, dealing with loss, respecting boundaries of people you admire, and one of the main messages is about making sure the people close to you know how much they mean to you. Don't get me wrong, the majority of the series is over the top humour, but by the end of it I was personally really attached to the characters and their feelings. Overall I really enjoyed this series but I don't see anyone properly talk about it :(

11. Gaya sa pelikula

A series made by gay people for gay people. Shows like this are so important. This show really healed my soul with how brilliant the representation was :(( "remember we talked about microagressions" the way that means Vlad is constantly educating Karl about LGBT stuff, UGH. SO GOOD. Also this show has the most realistic representation of a crush I've ever seen lmao, soft Vlad is the best Vlad.

12. My engineer

My happy little Saturday show :( I miss the shit writing, shit acting and soft story of this series so much. I'm so fond of this series, I watched it after the horrible ep12 of 2gether and it really made me happy. I'm looking forward to season 2, but Ramking's novel goes DOWNHILL from here on. I know tricreation wouldn't allow the final chapter's scenes, but the entire story is so problematic and unenjoyable :(. The only valid scene is King's coming out scene but that's literally it. And the collar scene can stay lmao.

13. Oxygen

Another soft saturday series! I love this series so much, all of the couples are so bloody healthy and it makes me so happy. The communication is amazing!! THIS is how you show healthy relationships!!!

14. The gifted

S1 was so amazing!! I loved all of it! The only part of s2 we'll talk about is timegracethird. Time best boy!! Grace a feminist queen! When future Grace said they would be friends for a long time that made me so happy :(( also pangwave canon

15. Until we meet again

So I talked about the healthy relationships in oxygen. But uwma really showed the healthiest relationship ever. DeanPharm are just the softest little humans :( I would die for Pharm. He's the closest I got to a comfort character before Adachi. I just have to PROTECT HIM. My motherly instincts really kick in when I see him lmao.

The storyline of this series is just breathtaking. And the ending? I don't think I've ever cried that much. At all. It was so fucking beautiful 🥺

16. My gear and your gown

I really liked this show! Honestly I don't think I'll ever rewatch it but I definitely enjoyed it. The way Pai just seemed to breathe freely for the first time when his parents accepted his sexuality :(((( my baby :( also purefolk were brilliant

Ship list:

1. Saratine

These two are the definition of romance. They mean the fucking world to me. The fact that their story is apparently gonna be continued in some form makes me so. So. Happy. I cannot begin to describe it. My bet is on a special episode and ugh I'm so EXCITED.

2. Aini

Thonhonchonlatee in general is enjoyable but I don't like Thon at all. It's such a shame bc I was so excited for Khaotung and Podd to be in a series together :((. BUT. Aini have grabbed my heart. I knew they would bc miketap are brilliant, but wow. They're so gay my little babies :( miketap are just so natural and comfortable to watch. I love their chemistry so muuuuuuch

3. Sunmork

Coffee boyfriends :( I miss them so bloody much

4. Ramking

One of my fave ships. As I mentioned, I'm apprehensive about s2, but s1 ramking is such a beautiful story. It's just about 2 boys falling in love, no complications. Plant boy who's afraid of dogs falls in love with quiet boy who loves dogs but is afraid of children. Iconic. Also chemistry outsold, I THINK ABOUT THE KISS CONSTANTLY. When I mentioned the acting is shit in this series (shit is harsh, I mean awkward), I did not mean Perth and Lay in the slightest. They really nailed their roles and I loved it.

5. Professor Layton x Claire

You 100% won't get this reference but I grew up with the Professor Layton games and holy shit do they hold up. They're so amazingly written with beautiful stories and the most lovable characters in the world. Layton's intellect, loving nature and surprising athleticism are admirable. Adachi is the character I relate to most, but if I was gonna choose a character to comfort me irl, Layton's your man. His voice is so comforting by nature. I'm blabbering at this point but the point is him and Claire are the only het pairing that matters.

These are just the ships that I felt should be separate from their shows. I love all of the ships from the shows I mentioned.

Oof this got horrifically long, I haven't had a proper chance to rant about most of these shows so I really let it out lol. I hope you've watched at least some of these shows and I didn't just rant to u about 12 shows you've never heard of 😂

I hope you have a wonderful day love!!!!

#secretsanta'20

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emily-strange · 5 years ago

Text

Growing Pains...

Wow, so I feel like I’ve been working on this forever! Thank you to everyone who’s still interested in this fic :) I hope this chapter doesn’t disappoint!

So here we go! 😁 @strwxberrymilk you asked to be tagged so 😘

Summary: Emmy has been with the gang since she was a little girl. Her mother moved on, leaving her to be raised by Dutch, Hosea and Susan. Arthur and John are her brothers (argue and she will fight you). Becoming a woman is hard when everyone still sees you as a child. Since the Blackwater mess she’s trying to find her feet while dealing with her new feelings for the gangs resident douchebag.

Pairing: Slow burn Micah x female OC.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of blood, mention of past abuse.

Chapter 10

I wake up and John’s already gone. Probably on guard duty. I lie for a minute just staring up at the ceiling of the tent, damp with condensation. It’s muggy today and I already feel clammy and gross. What a wonderful day this will be.

I sit up and notice that the flaps of the tent have been closed and I hear hushed voices on the other side. Obviously, Sean. He isn’t subtle.

I slowly get up, not wanting to make a noise and stand next to the flaps. I’m struggling to hear anything so edge closer….and closer…..when all of a sudden the canvas is pulled back and I’m face to face with said Irishman.

“Fookin’ hell!!” Sean shouts as I scream and jump back, clutching my chest. Sean falls to the floor laughing in a very dramatic fashion, “You tryin’ ta kill me woman?!”.

“Me!? You’re the one lurking outside my tent!” I laugh while finding my footing, “Oh get up you idiot.”

I pull Sean up and he throws his arm around me as I survey the camp. It’s very light on the ground and I feel like that’s because of me.

“So, how’ya feelin’? Stupid question?” Sean asks.

I sigh and lean against his shoulder, “Yeah, stupid question….where is everyone?”

Sean leads me to the camp table and gently pushes me to sit down. He disappears for a moment and returns with some coffee before sitting next to me.

“By everyone I guess ya mean Dutch, Arthur and lovely Hosea?” he asks and I nod, “Well, I think they’re down by the water with John. He came out very…..very…..early this mornin’ and demanded to know, and I quote, ‘what the absolute fook’ is goin’ on.”

I only have energy to nod and take a gulp of lukewarm coffee. I rub my eyes and instantly regret it, they’re so sore.

“Emmeline” I hear and see Susan coming towards me from the beach area.

“Aaand I guess Grimshaw was also there” Sean adds quickly.

Susan approaches and sits elegantly down next to me. She’s calm but I can sense her fury.

“Emmeline my darling, how are you feeling?” she demands and even though her words are nice, she’s always struggled with tone. If I hadn’t known her most of my life, I’d be terrified! But I know she means well.

“Not. Great.” I say quietly and she scoffs.

“Of course not. Awful business, just awful. Believe me I’ve given Dutch an earful. Unacceptable. Knowing that pig’s still out there getting his muddy trotters all over the country. Disgusting…..” Susan trails off and I can just see something in her eyes. Something she isn’t saying.

“Susan. What is it?” I say through gritted teeth. She sighs and her voice softens as she takes my hand.

“I will fight to the death for you my girl. The death. And I am, truly, disgusted. But…”

“But!?” I interrupt.

“But. If this gang is going to survive….we need to stand united. I know you girl better than I know anyone and I can see it in your eyes. You want to run. But I won’t allow it.”

I take a breath and really look at her. I’ve never seen Susan cry. Not even when Bessie died. But now her eyes are glassy and she repeats firmly “I. Won’t. Allow. It.”

Susan squeezes my hand and continues. Quieter but just as strongly, “Focus on those who haven’t wronged you. Me, the girls, John….”

“Me!” Sean chimes in happily, making me laugh. Susan rolls her eyes, “Yes, yes, you Mr MacGuire! Believe me, no one can forget you!”

Sean winks at her and she gives him a small smile before hardening up once again.

“They’re by the water. Do you need me to come with you?” she asks.

“No. I’ll be okay. I have Hosea I suppose….” I start saying and jump when John appears behind me.

“And me. I’ve come ta get ya.” he says while holding out his hand.

Susan squeezes my hand again and leaves the table. I can already hear her shouting at Tilly.

I take John’s hand and stand up, straightening myself out.

“If you need me lady, you know where I’ll be” Sean says.

“Yeah, asleep by the fire” John laughs while he pulls me away towards the beachy part of the campsite.

“Don’t leave me John, okay?” I find myself needing to say to him and he lets go of my hand to put his arm around my shoulders. “Never again Em. Never again.” He whispers.

As we approach the beach, I can see Hosea stood with Dutch and Arthur. Arthur. I feel my heart break a little bit more.

“Emmy. John” Hosea greets and I find myself shrinking into John despite my desperate attempt to appear stronger than I feel, “Should we go sit down?”

“I’m fine standing Hosea” I say crossing my arms. I feel like I need to separate myself from everyone but John. I know if pushed, Hosea will always be with Dutch. Well, what’s best for the gang, I guess. And Arthur. Well, Arthur made his choice a long time ago it seems. Speaking of Arthur, he’s stood with his hands on his hips looking at the ground. His hat shielding his eyes.

“Of course” Hosea smiles sweetly at me, “Now, for this….meeting….to work, everyone needs to say their piece but also, listen. Agreed?”

Everyone nods and Arthur chances a glance at me. I can see the pain he’s feeling. Arthur always held everything in his eyes. He looks exhausted.

“I think Dutch should go first” John chimes in and gets a furious glare from said man.

“Don’t look at him like that” I snap, “Speak.”

I see Dutch take a deep breath, steadying himself. I’ve never spoken to Dutch with such disrespect before and I can tell he hates it. He clears his throat and begins, daring to look me in the eye. He’s unbelievable.

“Emmy” he begins and I can’t help but scoff at him using my nickname. John squeezes my shoulder as a warning. I know he’s on my side but he also wants me to learn the truth, so I need to bite my tongue.

“Emmy” Dutch starts again, “When you came to us….I didn’t….we, didn’t know what kind of a man your pa was. And your mama. We didn’t know.”

“But then you learnt” I interrupt and he nods. Hosea pries my arm from my own hold and takes my hand in his and nods for Dutch to continue.

“Yes. We learnt. We learnt.” He sighs, “That day when we went out with Wayne. We intended to kill him. We had the gun at his head.”

“I had the gun at his head” Arthur croaks and I honestly can’t help the bitter laugh that leaves my mouth.

“He speaks. Hallelujah.” I bite. And Arthur looks like he wants to fall to his knees. I hate myself for wanting to comfort him.

“Yes. Arthur had a gun to his head. And I asked Wayne if he had any words we could give to his daughter…..” and again, I can’t hold myself back.

“The daughter he beat. And abused. The daughter he broke. Over and over again. That daughter?” I ask.

Hosea squeezes my hand and edges closer, sighing my name. “No Hosea, I want us all to be on the same page here. I want us to acknowledge, for once, out loud, what he did.” Tears begin to fall from my eyes but I refuse to recognise them. My body may be weeping but I will not indulge it.

I think I see tears in Dutch’s eyes as he continues, “Yes. Emmy. That daughter….” He nods, “I asked him for any last words and he offered me a lead instead. About a big job. One that would set us up for months. One that would help us take care of you….if we let him live.”

I let go of Hosea’s hand and push myself away from John, rubbing at my eyes.

“I can’t believe this is happening” I mutter and stop to look out at the water as Dutch goes on.

“Arthur wanted to shoot him but, I overruled him. After we let Wayne go, with threat of death if he was ever seen again, I promised Arthur that after the job was done he could track him down if he so chose to.”

I turn back just as Arthur begins to speak. He clears his throat and looks at me. His eyes are so red.

“And I did Emmy. I….I tried. I looked for months but came up short.” Arthur sniffs and looks back at the ground, “I’m sorry. I’m. I failed you twice. I’m sorry”.

“Damn Arthur” John sighs while shaking his head.

I know how under Dutch’s thumb Arthur is, we all do. But, I can’t focus on Arthur right now. One liar at a time.

“So, why didn’t anyone put a bullet in his head in Valentine. Tell me that” I ask, getting us back on track. Once I have everything, then I can start to make sense of it all.

“I was about to. I was. Had my gun in hand…..but…..Emmy we’re in a tight spot….” Dutch starts and I scream, “BECAUSE OF ANOTHER TIP. FROM HIM”.

“Yes. Yes I know. But we need money Emmy. Real money. And, well, Wayne asked to meet us one last time. He said he had a genuine lead he was gonna share with another gang as a peace offering but that he’d give it ta us.” And as he speaks, Dutch gets almost….excited?

“Hosea, what the hell?!” John shouts and Hosea reaches out to grip his shoulder, “Now son, you need to hear Dutch out. You all do. For better or worse we’re in this mess now. We need to get out of it. I am not happy about this. I….frankly I hate myself for it. But we have a responsibility to the rest of the camp. Now, this lead seems legit. I checked it over myself in that cabin.”

And there it is. My dear Hosea. What is it about Dutch that makes all the men ignore their better instincts? Now can I run Susan?

Dutch now addresses a horrified John and an equally horrified Arthur while sparing me the odd glance, “Now, he’s holding the last piece of the puzzle close to his chest until the day of. He wants to know we won’t off him…..” he turns to me “he knows he’s on borrowed time. But when we get that information…” Dutch continues but is cut off when Micah appears on the beach.

He walks towards us from camp, not really looking anyone in the eye. He’s absolutely caked in blood. His moustache is almost entirely red and his clothes (minus his hat which isn’t anywhere to be seen) are stained with bits of….something…..stuck to them.

“Sorry boss” he starts, “but that info won’t be coming anytime soon”.

When Micah reaches us, he doesn’t stop and heads straight for the water. He crouches down and begins to slosh water onto himself.

“Son?” Dutch enquires quietly but he doesn’t answer. He continues to wash his face until I step into the water.

“Micah” I say softly. I know we’ve fallen out but if he’s hurt, I want to know. At the sound of my voice, Micah stops scrubbing and takes a moment before standing to face me. He can obviously see the concern on my face because he gives me a very slight, reassuring smile.

“I’m alright sweetheart” he says very quietly.

“Micah” Dutch tries, this time a lot firmer, “What in God’s name did you do!?”

Everyone’s so quiet.

“Micah” I whisper, drawing his attention back.

“If I’d known….I’d of done it sooner” he says to me. Just to me. It’s like I’m the only one standing here and it’s…..I don’t know what it is. But it isn’t bad.

I can hear Dutch rearing up to shout or complain or whatever Dutch does when someone shits on his cereal and for the first time I couldn’t care less. When I speak, it quietens again.

“Did you make it hurt?” I ask, looking him right in the eye. I’ll know if he’s lying.

Micah smirks and approaches me slowly until we’re face to face.

“Oh, I made it hurt” he says softly to me. And as sick as it may be, I feel giddy. Kind of, excited.

I throw my arms around Micah’s neck and hold on for dear life. I whisper my thank you to him as he pats my back gently, obviously a bit uncomfortable with my form of appreciation. We can work on that.

As I pull back, I can hear everyone behind me start to argue and I just don’t want to be here anymore. I can hear Dutch try to explain his grand plan to John and Arthur who are going between arguing with him and each other. Hosea is trying to calm everyone down but it’s a losing game and if I’m not mistaken, I believe Susan, Uncle and maybe Sadie having appeared to ask what’s happening and why Micah and I are covered in blood.

Screw this.

“Let’s get you cleaned up” I smile, taking Micah’s hand. He nods but loses his smirk before the rest of the group can see. Not that their paying any attention to us now. Too busy shouting.

Micah lets me lead him down the beach in the direction of his little, private campsite.

I can still hear everyone fighting but the sound of my own voice is drowning it out.

And my own voice is telling me, thank God for Micah Bell.

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