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hanjizung · 3 years ago

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♡ What Love Is ♡

Han Jisung x Reader.

Word count: 10K

♡ Warnings ♡: Smut; non idol AU, DILF!Jisung, older Jisung, OC (kid), possession kink, marking kink, oral (f), overstimulation, begging, masturbation, shower sex, exhibitionism, fingering, creampie, aftercare.

A/N: Finally the second part to Modern Vintage is here. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, and please let me know what you think of it! ♡

Summer coming closer could mean many things; families spent more time together since children weren’t going to school anymore, couples had more dates and groups of friends went to eat from time to time to catch up. Overall, most places were fuller during summer, especially beaches since the sun was incredibly hot. You knew some people loved to go out in summer, maybe to travel or to visit some relatives.

Even knowing how summer as a customer was, working in the coffee shop during the season was another experience, some days it was too empty, then on the weekends too full and some days you didn’t even have enough time to eat. Adding to the stress of working during this season, but luckily, summer was just about to end and since you decided to take summer classes to fasten your graduation and get your degree sooner, you were almost completely over which meant that you would be able find a better place to work and help Jisung pay the bills.

A smile appeared on your face when you thought of him. The two of you had been together for almost a little over a year now; he stopped working in the coffee shop with you after his best friends from college offered him an opportunity to work with them as a producer in their company, that had been a month after the weekend the two of you spent without Jisu, both of them showed up at his night job, (which you learned, he worked at a nightclub as a DJ and he was really awesome at it) asking him to take a moment and go with them for a talk. The next morning you found him drinking coffee in the kitchen, still thinking of accepting or declining, smiling and kissing you when you encouraged him to take the offer.

Since then, he told Minho and Felix about it, and they congratulated him and told him that he would still get the employee discounts whenever he stopped by to visit them (and you, of course.) The Lee brothers, more than being your bosses, they treated the two of you like good friends and worried about you like they were family. You still remember Felix’s face when he saw you kissing Jisung goodbye while Jisu hugged her dad tightly, a grin on Felix’s lips that made him look like a mischievous cat.

“Didn’t I tell you it would be only a matter of time?” he said, startling both Jisung and you, making you turn to look at him laughing, a slight blush coloring your cheeks.

“Felix, you knew we would end up together since he brought Jisu here” you objected, rolling your eyes playfully. “What kind of witchcraft did you do, hmm? Tell me your secret!” you joked, getting closer to him and hugging him lovingly. He hugged you back and patted your hair as if you were Jisu.

“I have eyes, Y/N. I could see the both of you drooling for each other when you worked the same hours” he explained, his brows raised as he turned from you to Jisung, who just like you had his face painted with a blush.

“Oh” Jisung said, scratching the back of his head with his free arm and laughing awkwardly. “I mean, you’re not wrong, Lix. I liked Y/N since the very first time I saw her mess up a drink” your boyfriend said, winking at you.

“Are you saying that messing drinks is the way to get to your heart, Sungie?” you asked, acting as serious as you could, “because if that’s the case, I won’t let you be in the kitchen when I’m teaching Jeongin how to do the difficult ones” you finished, making both of the men in front of you laugh.

“Ah, he doesn’t mess up as much though, I admit Jisung used to be messier than him. Jeongin’s a good boy, he learns quickly like you, Y/N. I’m glad that we hired him, I feel like the place is fuller since he’s been here” Felix said, crossing his arms over his chest and caressing his invisible beard as he looked at Jeongin who was writing down an order.

He noticed the four pairs of eyes on him and waved to where you were awkwardly. Minho had announced not too long ago that since the coffee shop had been doing better than before now you were short staffed, and since he was planning on giving you a little vacation he made the decision of hiring someone else to help, and that's how you ended up meeting sweet Jeongin, whose cute face contributed to more daily customers as well as Felix's delicious baked desserts.

Since you were the last person hired, it was your job to teach him everything you knew. He had been there for just three weeks now, and he was a little shy just like you were when you first started working there, but as days passed he joined the talented chefs that you had for bosses and started teasing you and Jisung every now and then.

The coffee shop never closed, it was open all the seven days of the week, but when Jisung was offered a new spot with his good friends, you decided to throw a party to celebrate, inviting the Lee's and Jeongin, and of course, Jisu's uncles; Chan and Changbin. You also took the opportunity to invite your ex roommate, who happened to visit you at work and the one who you would constantly text when something interesting happened. Jisung said that since the party would be the first time you'd be meeting his best friends, and since he already knew your roommate that you should invite your best friend from college, so after calling him and asking him if he was free he accepted.

The big important day came, and Jisung dressed with his nicest clothes, putting on that one cologne he knew you loved so much. The party would happen at your department, so when he was ready he announced that he would be rushing to get the missing food before all your guests appeared, leaving you and Jisu to finish getting ready.

You helped her get ready first, dressing her with a beautiful navy blue dress that she adored since the moment she saw it, then you did her hair and told her to draw something to everyone coming to the party while you got ready as well.

When you walked out of the room fully dressed, Jisung and Jeongin's back were turned at you. They were talking on the couch, a movie was playing on the turned on television as they talked without paying any attention to the screen, but the conversation soon died when your boyfriend stood up after hearing footsteps behind him. He stared at you, his mouth hanging and a quiet wow leaving his lips as he moved quickly to embrace you and kiss you, ready to whisper how beautiful you looked and how lucky he was to have you.

"Woah, you look so pretty! You look like a queen, queen Y/N!" Jisu exclaimed, joining her dad and running to hug your legs. Jeongin saw the whole scene, chuckling.

"You look amazing, Y/N. Honestly, if you and Jisung weren't together I would be inviting you for a drink as soon as I saw you" he joked, raising one of his eyebrows making you laugh.

"Guess that's too bad for you then, Jeonginnie, she's all mine" Jisung said, pressing a kiss on your cheek and then leaving your side to sit on the couch again.

Jisu left you to go sit on her dad's lap, and when you were just to sit on the other couch your phone rang, your best friend's photo showing on the screen as you smiled apologetic at the two men in front of you and you walked away to answer.

"Hi, Y/N. I'm in the building, what floor is it?" his voice greeted you. He was always like this, going straight to the point.

"The fifth floor, the door number is 190" you told him, hearing through the line how he walked into the elevator and pressed the buttons. "See you soon" you told each other before hanging up.

You were excited to see him, it wasn't everyday that the two of you got to be at a nice event or even to a party like this, he wasn't a party guy much, and you always went out with your beloved roommate, Chunghee.

You walked to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and when you were coming back to the living room you heard knocking on the door. Smiling and placing your glass down, you walked excitedly to it and opened with a big smile on your lips, already knowing who it was.

"Seungmin!" you exclaimed, throwing your arms around him carefully and hugging him tightly. He responded to the hug politely, patting your back two times and then separating his arms from you, a little shy since it was the first time he was in the presence of your boyfriend. You moved away from him to let him step inside, taking his hand in yours and closing the door behind you.

"Jisung, Jisu, Jeongin, I present to you my best friend! Seungmin, you already met Jeongin, and this…" you left Seungmin's side to stand behind Jisung who still had Jisu in his lap, they looked at your friend with the same eyes full of curiosity "... Is my family" you finished, smiling at him, your head tilted to the side as you locked eyes with Jisung for a brief moment before returning your eyes to your best friend.

"It's nice to meet you in person and not just thought pictures" Seungmin greeted, a timid smile on his lips that gained a chuckle from Jisung who responded that it was nice to see him as well, and so you proceeded to sit with Seungmin by your side and start a small conversation with him.

The room fell silent for a few seconds, the TV working as background noise only until a knock on your door and voices sounding from behind it let you know that Felix and Minho had finally arrived. Jisu opened the door, rushing to get there first and throw herself at the first pair of legs that would be in front of her, making Minho laugh as he struggled to hold a box of something in his hands without it falling. Felix rushed to help his brother by freeing him from the kid's grip, taking Jisu in his arms and squishing her playfully.

"Hey, welcome!" Jisung greeted, standing up from the couch along with Jeongin to help the two men with the things they were carrying; a cake and something that looked like it was probably ice cream. One of Felix's new experiments, possibly, but you figured that if he had brought it on that special day, it would be an advanced approved recipe.

"We're so happy to be here, I can't wait to meet Jisung's new bosses. Are they here yet? Are they more handsome than us? Y/N?" Felix asked, lifting Jisu in the air dramatically, making her giggle and turning to you when he was saying the last part, his accusative eyes scanning you.

"They haven't arrived yet, we'll meet them at the same time, Lix" you laughed, standing up yourself and hugging Minho first, then him. He smiled at you, and then noticed Seungmin who was still sitting where you were, his extroverted self wasted no time and he made his way there, dragging you along with him.

"Hello, we haven't been introduced yet, I think? If you've heard nice things about a Lee Felix then that's me, but if all you've heard of him are complaints, then it's not me anymore" he joked, presenting his hand to your best friend who laughed politely at his joke.

"Kim Seungmin, Y/N's friend" he shook Felix's hand and then patted Jisu’s head since she was still in Felix’s arms, offering both of them shy smile along with it. It was so heartwarming to have all your friends and family interacting with each other.

A phone going off distracted you and everyone in the room turned to meet the owner who simply smiled shyly, turning his back and answering. You could hear Jisung’s voice through the introductions of the people who were currently in your house. You watched all of them with a fond smile, but the sudden sensation of an arm wrapping around your waist scared you a little bit, making you turn your face to find your beloved boyfriend who placed a kiss on your cheek, whispering to you that he would be leaving shortly to get his friends.

You nodded and sat next to Minho on the couch, he was on his phone until he noticed you, straightening his back and smiling briefly at you. He asked how you were doing and how you were feeling about Jisung’s new path, you said that you felt happy for him and that your current concern was that you wanted to graduate to help; your conversation with him finished rather quickly, as the door opened and two strange men walked in through the door, the subject of your conversation with Minho staying behind them and closing the door.

“Everyone, they are my friends and now coworkers, Chan and Changbin,” Jisung announced, taking advantage of the silence that reigned on your little home to present his best friends, a intimidating looking man almost his height with a deadly gaze and a slightly taller one, blond guy who was smiling openly and showing his dimples.

Jisung stepped forward, a big smile on his face as his hand took yours and pulled you in front of his friends. You weren’t sure why, but your face started feeling a bit hot and you were a little afraid that if you tried to speak, you would stutter instead of speaking properly. To you it almost felt like you were meeting his parents, your nerves getting the best of you.

“Guys this is Y/N, you already know her a little from what I’ve told you” he laughed, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment, his cheeks also a rosy color just like yours were.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” the blond one said, offering you his hand for you to take. You did, extending your shaky hand to him and shaking it, then doing the same with Changbin.

Your ray of sunshine boyfriend must’ve felt the awkwardness you were irradiating, since he wasted no time in coming to your rescue and started presenting everyone else to them, except Jisu who left Felix to hug Changbin and tell him to pick her up so she could kiss his cheek. While he was busy with introductions, Seungmin approached you quietly, looking at you with a soft smile.

“You okay?” he asked, bumping your shoulder with his own. You looked at him with questioning eyes that only made him chuckle at you. “You looked like you were very nervous,” he explained.

Closing your eyes, you sighed. “I was! It felt like a meteor hit me, but instead of a space rock, it was reality” you whispered-screamed, looking at your friend with big eyes that soon turned soft when your gaze fell on them. “They seem really nice, though. I’m glad to know that Jisung wasn’t all alone before I met him, you know?”

“You really do love him, Y/N. I’m glad he makes you this happy” Seungmin smiled at you, his voice full of honesty that made you feel like you had the key to happiness in that exact moment.

The rest of the evening passed faster than you would like to admit; your little home was full with the chattering noises from your guests and chill music playing in the background. The dinner went good too, the table was full and it was like a Christmas dinner or similar, the table full and laughter being a constant proof of the nice atmosphere. Any sign of the existing awkward silence created when Chan and Changbin appeared was long gone now, and you learned a little more about them and how they met with Jisung just like they learned how the two of you ended up together, a story told with additions from almost everyone saying that they always knew how hard you were pining for each other.

Chan started telling how he happened to meet both of his friends; he explained that he met Changbin one night at a party, Chan was the dj and Changbin reached to him to ask him how he managed a cut between two song without it being so obvious (Changbin laughed, exclaiming that even if Chan taught him how to do it, he remembered how the first time he heard it he was shocked.)

Then, both of them usually hung out by the library where Chan mentored Changbin, and one day they saw Jisung with a guitar practicing and decided to ask him what he was doing. Since that day, the three of them started getting curious about song producing, and so they decided to give it a try, being that and their first demo songs the start of a beautiful blooming friendship that lead to where they are now.

When Chan mentioned their demo songs, you gave Jisung a side eye that clearly translated to him as ‘you’re gonna have to show me those songs’, a look that didn’t Changbin must’ve also caught since he said that those songs weren’t too good and that ‘it was better for everyone to not listen to them’, now making everyone want to listen to them more.

Later, Felix went to your fridge to take the ice cream he had brought and started serving it to everyone with your help. Little Jisu was over the moon because she was finally going to try one of the secret recipes of ice creams that she saw Felix perfecting at the coffee shop, and so more memories were talked upon all of you, not only about the trio of friends, but also about Seungmin and you being childhood friends, then the Lee brothers motivated by Chan’s story decided to tell how they knew they wanted to open the coffee shop. Jeongin opened up too, talking about how he had a lot of doubt joining his current career, but saying that he knew everything would eventually pay off. The evening contributed to you getting to know everyone a little more.

Almost at 10, Jisu was sleepily sitting on Changbin’s lap, you were surprised to see how much she stayed by his side and how the man didn’t seem to mind being with her, it was a little funny too because he seemed to be so tough on the outside, but really all he allowed to see in the few hours he spent in your house he was a softy, and Jisu really knew how to bring that side out of him. When you noticed the little bubbly girl was asleep, you stood up and walked to where he was, but when he realized that Jisu was comfortably dreaming, he stopped you.

“I’ll take her to her room, where is it?” he asked. You smiled at him as a thanks and guided him there, leaving the noisy living room to Jisu’s dark and silent bedroom.

You turned on the light for Changbin who was right behind you, and you watched him tuck her in the bed so carefully, like he had done it before. Curiosity got the best of you and you decided to ask him.

“Have you put her to bed before?” your voice came a little quiet, careful to not wake Jisu. Changbin hummed, looking at the sleeping angel in front of him and nodded.

“Yeah, when her mom left, Chan and I were all Jisung had, but we couldn’t help him often, and then we were called with an offer in America and we left.” You listened to him while he was staring at Jisu, your mind imagining these three men trying to take care of a baby, sweet scenarios playing in your head of them learning how to change a diaper and getting scared whenever she cried. “Let’s go back,” his voice brought you down to earth, and he waited for you to step out before turning off the light and closing the door behind him, like a gentleman.

Seeing you walking out of Jisu’s room, your boyfriend watched as you approached the living room with a smile on his face, and when you were close enough he opened his arms for you to take a seat on his lap. You happily did what he desired, kissing his cheek when he wrapped his arms around you. No one in the room was looking at you, too busy paying attention to a horror story Minho was saying from when he was in college to mind the two of you.

Jeongin was sitting by the table, a piece of cake in front of him that he was eating until he was interrupted thanks to a notification on his phone. When he grabbed it, he saw the hour and he stood up.

“I didn’t know it was this late, I should be leaving, my roommate texted me saying he’s worried” he explained, being the center of attention. On the other couch, Seungmin stretched and stood up as well.

“I can take you home if you want,” Seungmin said, looking in his pocket for his car keys while he waited for Jeongin’s answer. The younger one nodded and added that it would be nice of him to drop him by his apartment.

“Thank you guys for coming, have a good night” you told them when they waved goodbye to everyone.

“Thanks for receiving us. Congratulations on your new job, Jisung” Seungmin spoke again, shaking Jisung’s hand while Jeongin hugged you and thanked you as well.

After them, Felix yawned and Minho teased him, saying that he was just like Jisu, to which Felix laughed and said that he could be right. They made their way to the front door and said their goodbyes to the rest of you, and that resulted in just you and the producers. Jisung offered to drive them to their new shared apartment.

That’s how you found yourself in the co-pilot's seat with Chan and Changbin sitting in the back giving directions to Jisung who was driving. It reminded you of the first time you got in the car with him and took care of Jisu, then you smiled when your memory replayed all the times you sat there talking with Jisung and admiring him while he drove, he always looked for your hand or rested his on your thigh during red lights.

While Chan was giving directions to Jisung, Changbin chatted a little with you, telling you that he wasn’t too excited to go to his new house because there was a pure mess of boxes and half unpacked stuff everywhere except for their beds.

“I forgot how much I disliked moving,” Chan sighed, eyes closed as he paid close attention to the window. Changbin agreed with him.

Once you were finally there, you saw them coming out of the car. You took Jisung’s hand and with a look you told him to stay there. “We should help them, Sung,” you said. He nodded, knowing that you would be worried if you didn’t voice your kind offer to help your new friends.

“Chan, Changbin, would you like some help unpacking?” Jisung said, helping you out of the car. They were standing nearby, waiting for you two to leave and being surprised when Jisung hurried to open your door.

“Nah, it’s okay. You should go back home, though, it’s pretty late,” Changbin answered after exchanging a quick look with Chan who looked at his phone, probably to check the hour.

“We got this, don’t worry. Thanks for driving us,” Chan contributed, watching Jisung walking slowly to the driver’s seat again. “See you on Monday, Jisung, and see you later Y/N, it was very nice to meet you” he smiled.

“Alright, but make sure to call us if you need anything. See you on Monday” and with that, Jisung started the car and you left. You had no idea when on the way back you fell asleep, but the next time you opened your eyes, the car was slowing down and you could recognize the familiarity of your building’s parking.

“We’re home, baby, wake up” Jisung’s sweet voice called you. You blinked one, two times before sighing and taking off the security belt, stepping out of the car and stretching. You waited for him to do the same and walk together to your department.

“Your friends are really nice, I’m happy you’re gonna work with them. Are you excited?” you asked once in the elevator, looking at him.

“Yeah, I’m excited. It’s been so long since we made a song together or shared ideas for lyrics,” he said, smiling at you and hugging you, pressing a kiss on your face. You closed your eyes, accepting it without saying anything and just enjoying the moment. It was small moments like this when you were glad to start working at the coffee shop.

The elevator stopped at your floor, and the two of you made your way to your comfy apartment. You sighed, knowing that you would have to clean and put away everything that was on the table. When the door opened you finally took off the heels you opted to wear for the occasion, sighing in satisfaction when your feet touched the cold ground. Jisung only looked at you with a soft smile on his face, and he walked up behind you, passing one of his arms under your knees and picking you up bridal style.

“Sungie! What are you doing?” you squealed, acting quickly and holding onto him, afraid that you would fall. Your boyfriend didn’t answer you, instead he smirked at you and kept walking to your room. Once in there, he somehow managed to turn on the light before letting you gently on the bed.

Hovering above you, you were able to see the lust in his eyes before he closed them and finally kissed your lips passionately. Your hands, still on his neck, pulled him even closer to you. You sighed on the kiss, moving one of your hands to his chest and the other tangling in his hair. Jisung took this as an invitation to straddle you, supporting himself with one arm and caressing your face with the other hand.

Soon, the intensity of the kiss ended when he separated to breathe again, pressing kisses on your chin and then travelling down your throat.

“This dress looks so good on you, honey, but I prefer how you look without it. I’ve been thinking about it all day, taking it off you. I’m so lucky that I’m the only one to get to see you like this” he whispered, his voice husky, making you shiver.

It wasn’t the first time he attacked you like this; it was mostly on special occasions, and usually he asked someone to take care of Jisu, the other times you two had sex it was very late into the night and rather quickly to avoid the exposure to accidents, so him suddenly acting guided by his instincs and fucking you like it was only the two of you in the whole world was one of the last ways you imagined today would end.

“W-wait, Jisung, close the door first” you warned him, pushing him off you. He quickly nodded, making his way to the door and closing it, also locking it and then, he walked slowly towards you who was now sitting on the bed, looking at him with needy eyes.

His hands went to his belt, slowly undoing it making you bite your lip. He took it off and let it rest at the feet of the bed, now taking his shirt and starting to pull it up until he was in front of you, finally taking that piece of clothing off from his body. Your legs hung open, allowing him to stand between them as one of your hands played with the hem of his pants, you looked at him through your lashes and he placed one hand on your head, patting you dearly before it went down to cup your face and he bended to kiss you, this time more sweetly than before.

He pushed you gently so you would be on your back, he kissed the exposed skin on your neck, being careful to not leave any hickies since he knew how much you struggled to cover them when you had to go out, he was always mindful of you, unless he wanted to show off that you belonged to him, then he would mark up your neck so prettily for everyone to see.

He kneeled on the floor, his nose on your thigh sensually caressing you all the way to your right knee, his hands hiking up the skirt of your beautiful dress and then resting now on your hips, exposing your undergarment. Then, one of his hands moved to hold the back of your thigh to put your leg on his shoulder.

Since the moment he kneeled down on the floor, your mind played images of the countless times Jisung's face was hidden between your legs making you crazy, allowing you to see stars when his magical tongue brought you over the edge. It was inevitable to contain yourself, your pussy getting wet since he started pressing kisses on your legs, torturing preparing you for the orgasm he would soon bring you.

A sigh escaped your lips as you let yourself enjoy the moment, he was holding your other leg open with his hand, allowing him full entrance to your now ruined panties. You were lucky you decided to match the pretty dress with your favorite set of lingerie. He hummed in approval when he saw your wetness.

He had you whimpering lowly, you knew you had to keep quiet but as time passed and Jisung decided to admire and tease you instead of doing something to you, you were starting to grow a little impatient.

"Babe…" you cried out, looking at him with pleading eyes "I need you," but he didn't seem like he wanted to pay attention to your cries.

"You need me? Why, baby? What do you need me for?" he answered, his deep voice making you close your eyes and his words provoking a slight blush on your face.

"I'm so wet for you, please…" you said. It was an obvious answer since he could see the mess he made of you. "Want you to eat me out, please…"

His fingers passed through your needy sex, making you sigh one more time. He grunted, but instead of moving your delicate panties to the side, his face got closer and he pressed a sweet kiss on your mound. When he was done teasing you, he moved away and finally started taking off that piece of lingerie, removing your leg from his shoulder and placing it there again once he had freed you from it.

His lips came in contact with your throbbing cunt, making you groan in satisfaction when his tongue skillfully, dragging it from the center of your wetness, taking a sweet moment to taste you and then going for his objective, his arms around your legs to keep you in place for him to torture you oh so deliciously.

You cursed, eyes closed as you permitted him to pleasure you like he knew you adored, your hand pushing him towards you as an encouragement to keep doing what he was doing, and he never stopped. Your hole throbbed, his tongue went up and down, he sucked and teased with his teeth as well, the sensations overwhelming you but becoming more and more intense, Jisung could clearly hear how you were coming apart and losing your mind from the silent posture you wanted to maintain, but he just loved your moans and heavy breathing when he flicked his tongue a certain way, and how you pulled his hair and you tried to arch your back. You were so beautiful, and to him there was nothing better than to see you like this, so flustered and sensitive from how hard he was going to make you cum.

Feeling how you started to shake, one of your hands flew to your mouth when you knew that you wouldn't be able to resist any more of the sweet torment you were a prisoner for, and suddenly, white hot pleasure numbed you and all you could do was lay there, pulling his hair locks and shaking slightly. Jisung never stopped his attack on you, the overstimulation caused by his tongue provoking a few tears from escaping the corners of your eyes, it felt like something new, like you had unblocked a new level of extasis.

Your high finally ended, and just when Jisung heard you breathing again he slowed down. You hadn't realized he put a hand on top of the one over your mouth to help quiet your cries, but you were certainly thankful that he'd done it, because if he hadn't, your neighbors would think he was ending your life or torturing a poor animal, or even worse, you would have a little girl banging on the door thinking you were hurt or something.

"You taste so good, my love, and you were so good to me too, enjoying how I played with your clit" he murmured, wiping his chin from your essence and standing up from the floor, looking at you with those lusty eyes you'd gotten to know so well, "but I still want you to come on my cock too. Look at me, look at the effect you have on me, Y/N…"

Your hand left his hair to clean your sweaty forehead, you tried your best to look at him when he ordered you to, his pants with an obviously painful erection, your eyes not failing to notice a dark spot that could be seen in the fabric.

Jisung undid the button and unzipped his pants, then slipped a hand under his dark boxers to pump himself, grunting from the touch of his hand against his dick, it was a majestic view you had only seen one time in the shower when he was horny but didn't wanted to wake you up.

It had been after a stressful night at the club full of young college students, he went straight to the shower after arriving home and the sound of the water hitting the tiles of the bathroom woke you up. You had sneaked to the bathroom, curious of the complaining noises Jisung made, and there you found him, with his eyes closed, a hand against the wall and the other around his dick moving slowly while he bit his lip, the water droplets running through his naked body making him appear like a Greek God. You kept staring at him working on himself maybe a little too much, because he ended up discovering you and then fucking you carefully in the shower. Truly, an incredible experience that even if it had been a little difficult to manage, you felt it was so worth it.

Finally undressing himself, Jisung stood up between your legs again, his hand on your stomach and he bent to kiss your forehead sweetly.

"You ready, baby?" he asked, waiting for any signal that could mean a positive or negative from you. One of his hands looked for yours to intertwine your fingers. You nodded, swallowing as you thought how good it was to have him filling you, and second later, he did just that. He stretched you as he entered you slowly, his hand squeezing yours next to your head while his other supported his weight, a quiet moan coming from his lips.

"Oh shit, Jisung! Fuck, you feel so good, please" your broken voice managed to speak.

You waited for him to move, but he asked you instead if you trusted him, and simple as that he shifted and now he was standing, your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, his hands on your eyes as he walked somewhere, the destination being your tiny balcony. You thought he wouldn't dare step outside, but he did and the cold air hit you, and not only that, but Jisung also pressed you against the cold glass door of the balcony.

"You better keep quiet, dove, or you'll get us discovered" he warned, proceeding to fuck you slowly as the moonlight illuminated you.

Two mornings after, you showered and got ready to eat breakfast. Jisu was already awake watching some cartoons as her dad hummed while he finished cooking her lunch. "Good morning," you said, going to kiss Jisung's lips and sitting to drink coffee.

"Hey, sweetheart. How do you feel?" Jisung corresponded to your greeting, giving you a quick wink before turning his back to the almost completed food.

"I'm okay, not too tired. Thanks for the coffee, babe. Are you ready for work?" you asked him. He laughed, but he admitted that he was actually nervous since it was something he was very passionate about, it made you happy to see him following his dreams.

When you were done with breakfast, the three of you went to the car, you would drop Jisung first at his friend's company, and then you would leave Jisu at the kindergarten, and you would go to your classes as usual.

"Have a nice first day, Sungie. Love you, I'll see you at home"

"Goodbye, daddy!"

"Thanks, beautiful. Behave well, princess. Love you both" and after you left him, you drove to Jisu's school.

She was always happy to go, she always talked about how her teacher was so pretty and smart, and you couldn't blame her. He was very charming, you would admit, and not only was he nice to the children he teached, but he also cared for the parents too and let everyone know that they could count on him, he was such a lovely spirit, you thought it was a shame Jisung hadn't met him yet, since it was you always dropping Jisu and then going to college while Jisung stayed home and slept after the long and tiresome club nights.

Turning off the car, you got out of the car and opened Jisu's door, helping her out and then walking hand in hand as she excitedly told you that she couldn't wait to see her favorite teacher in the whole world.

"Good morning, Y/N, Jisu" his smooth voice reached your ears when you arrived at the classroom. More kids and parents were saying their goodbyes, luckily Jisu always showed that she was brave and never spent too long hugging you goodbye, too eager to go play with the others kids to mind if you stayed too long after or not.

"Hey, good morning, teacher. How was your weekend?" you asked him, trying to be polite and show that you were a friend for him if he needed to talk just like he was for everyone else.

"Oh, Y/N, I've told you you can just call me Hyunjin, and my weekend was good, thanks for asking. How was yours?" he asked back, looking at your slightly colored cheeks with an adorable eye smile as he reminded you once again to call him by his name.

"My weekend was also nice, thank you, Hyunjin. How-" you were about to say something more, but your alarm that indicated you should better be leaving for your class rang. "Oh, I'm sorry, it seems like I should be leaving for class! See you later."

The professor nodded in understanding, and you turned and left, careful with your steps to not trip and fall to the ground. When you successfully got into your car, you breathed in and exhaled, preparing yourself for the rest of the day.

That was how your new routine was created; first, Jisung woke up and made breakfast, then you dropped him at work and took Jisu to school and you went to college and once you were done with classes you picked up Jisu and went to work at the coffee shop where you would meet with Jisung and the three of you would get home, some weekends still going on trips and enjoying as much time together as you could.

A few months into the new routine, when you were dropping Jisu at school Hyunjin asked you to stay a little more, explaining that there was an upcoming school trip and he was asking you to go as a supervisor. You thanked him, saying that you would try your best to accompany him and the class as well, and sooner than you had expected, the day arrived and Jisung and you were more than ready to go to the aquarium with a lot of other kids and few parents.

The trip was fun, if you had to admit. Seeing all the fish swimming and getting to know more about them was very interesting, and many kids agreed with you when you said that mermaids were very lucky to live underwater with many beautiful species.

Later, Hyunjin announced that it was time for lunch, so everyone had a break to sit down and eat. You were sitting with Jisung next to you, he was drinking from a juice box when Hyunjin approached you and sat with the two of you, addressing you and ignoring the man next to you.

"You're incredibly good with kids, Y/N, and it really shows. They seem to like you a lot" he said, placing a hand on your shoulder, his eyebrows raised as he spoke.

"Well, thank you. I like being with kids, actually, I've always wanted a big family" you shyly responded, looking at Jisung through the corner of your eye. You thought he would react somehow, but he was too focused looking at the kids who were playing near you.

"Well, you're still young and you seem pretty put together to be a single mother… If you look further you might find someone you could share your life with and get married" Hyunjin mumbled, turning from you to look at his class running around the cafeteria.

"Single mother?" you repeated, eyebrows furrowed as you repeated his words on your head again.

"What? Since when are you a single mother?" Jisung's voice reached your ears, making both you and Hyunjin turn to him. "I thought… I thought I was her father?" his voice cracked, making you open your eyes wide in confusion.

"Aren't you her uncle?" Hyunjin asked, finally acknowledging his presence.

"No, Jisung is Jisu's dad. I'm… I'm not a single mother, I'm Jisung's girlfriend, not… Jisu's biological mother" you explained to the teacher in a quiet voice to not get any attention from the other adults near you.

"You're her dad? I'm so sorry, I always saw Y/N leaving Jisu and picking her up, I thought… I thought you and her were all by yourselves. I…" Hyunjin's hand flew to cover his mouth, he seemed so ashamed from his quick assumptions that his face started picking a pink tone. "I wanted to invite you to a date, Y/N. You're a fantastic parental figure to Jisu and– and you're so beautiful, too… I have a big crush on you, I'm sorry…"

You wanted to answer to his apologetic words, but you were too shocked to say anything, not knowing what words would be appropriate to speak so you turned to Jisung to see what he had to say in regards to this situation instead.

"Look, I can't blame you for liking her. She really is magnificent and I'll never get to comprehend how lucky I am for being by her side. I'm sorry, Hyunjin, but I'm sure one day you'll find someone like Y/N you can love" the sincerity and affection carried on his words made you look down and stare at his hand that had moved moments before to hold yours, you already knew but you loved him and how sweet he was.

Hyunjin smiled at your boyfriend and then cleared his throat, "thank you for saying that. You two make a lovely couple, but… if you ever get to break up, you know where I work, Y/N" he winked, moving to stand up and walk away to get the class's attention and continue the tour.

Neither of you spoke a word about Hyunjin's misinterpretation of your civil state after the trip. Sure, it had shocked you at first, but you brushed it off as something not that important. What you didn't know was how badly those words were torturing Jisung's brain. He stayed up most of the night that day, an arm around your shoulders as you peacefully slept on his chest, his head running wild with thoughts about you and how much you changed his life.

That's how he finally gathered the courage to talk to Chan and Changbin about marriage; he knew he loved you, he knew you were a highlight of his life along with Jisu and he was a witness to how much you and she liked each other. He couldn't ask for anything more, and besides, maybe having a ring on your finger would help you stop getting flirted with when you already shared a life with him, because after all, you were young and full of life, many people approached you and asked you for a drink at college or they also asked for your number at work, and the idea of getting married to you excited him more than it scared him, so why not propose to you?

His friends supported his choice, Chan and Changbin had gotten to know you a little more and you got along with them together, they supported you and Jisung and they also offered to babysit Jisu to give you private time together. They were very considerate, and not only that but they could feel how much Jisung adored you in every lyric of any song inspired by you.

So a few months later, one tranquil Friday evening after work when his friends dropped him off at the coffee shop that was nearly empty (except for the owners, Jeongin, Chan, Changbin and for some reason Seungmin too) you were surprised by his cautious behavior.

Jisu was sitting on Changbin's lap when Jisung took your hand and made you walk to the middle of the place, clearing his throat nervously while still holding your hand, making eye contact with you when he started speaking:

"Y/N, this is where we met a long time ago, and this is where everything began that day when I asked you if you could do me a favor. It was the start of our story together, and after spending many days and nights with you I'm more than certain that I love you. I loved you that day, and I will still love you tomorrow, so would you marry me?" He finally ended his speech with a knee on the floor, Jisu next to him handing him a small velvet box that he opened, revealing a beautiful ring inside.

You were more than surprised now, staring at his kneeled form with teary eyes, a hand covering your mouth as you simply nodded in response to his question, and then he placed the ring on your finger, kissing your hand and then standing up to kiss you sweetly, making your heart melt.

"Thank you, Y/N. I love you so much" and after that, everyone rushed to congratulate you two, creating beautiful memories for you.

That Friday, Jisu clung to her uncle Changbin's neck and waved goodbye at you and your now fiancé, saying that she couldn't wait to go to the fair the next day with him, making you laugh and kiss her forehead goodbye, thanking Changbin (and Chan too) for taking care of her and taking her places.

When you arrived home with Jisung that night, you couldn't help but smile like you did when he kissed you the first time, it was a satisfactory feeling, to know that he loved you as much as to ask you to be a permanent part of his life. You were clingy to him, which also made his heart flutter when you pecked his lips or giggled when he touched you gently, but behind the closed door of the apartment he wasted no time and kissed you hungrily, like a caveman trying the most delicious thing in the world.

You breathed in, corresponding to his rude kiss, your hands on his face and his resting on your waist.

"You have no idea how happy it makes me to know you're gonna be only mine, sweetheart. Just mine," he whispered, his breath against your cheek when he separated from your lips to tell you that. He had pressed you against the door as soon as he locked it, attacking your lips like it was his only mission and then going down your neck, leaving a warm trace of kisses burning your skin.

This time, he paid no mind to the 'no marks' unspoken rule he had given himself, sucking on your neck with the sole intention of leaving evidence of the passionate night the two of you would be having to celebrate your engagement, and you couldn't complain. He had given you the ring you thought you would get in a few more years, you might as well show that you're already taken to anyone who crossed your way, it turned you on a little more, if you had to be brutally honest. Seeing Jisung being possessive of you always made you feel like you were one of his priorities, and also showed you that he had no intention in leaving you alone any time soon.

Moving your head to the side to allow him more access to your neck, his hands started taking your jeans off and were now running through your belly under your shirt, touching everything he could as he kept marking you.

"You're only mine now, baby" he growled, separating from you to take off your shirt and look at your almost naked figure, his eyes with a heavy lusty shadow on them.

"... Just yours" you repeated, closing your eyes and taking his face to kiss him with the same passion he did when the door closed behind you.

Your hands rested on his chest, fingers trying to unbutton his shirt, successfully failing at completing the task when he separated from you, placing one of his hands on top of both of yours and pinning them above your head, resting against the cold door while his other hand slipped through your panties.

He groaned when he felt your growing wetness, he found your clit instantly and rubbed it, making you sigh in satisfaction until his hand went down further and he inserted two fingers inside you, this time dragging a gasp from your lips when your walls felt the introduction of his digits. It felt nice, but you knew his cock would feel better inside you, you loved how he filled you.

Pumping his fingers slowly, you started moaning, letting yourself enjoy his treatment. His mouth left kisses on your clavicle, then your chest and when you least expected it, he was pulling your bra down with his teeth and sucking on one of your nipples, his fingers never stopped their work on you causing you to become a wet, moaning mess with twitching legs until you finally came, crying out Jisung's name when your high hit you.

He kept pumping his fingers, having discovered that you did actually like when he overstimulated you once and since then doing it from time to time, this being one of them, and when you blinked your orgadm away, the pulled them from you, loosening his grip on your wrists and licking his fingers clean from your juices as he hummed.

You thought he would be done, you thought he would like to go to bed and fuck you until you screamed his mess in the comfort of your king size bed, but apparently Jisung had other plans in mind, as he undressed his shirt and threw it to the floor with your clothes and pulled you by the arm to the back of the couch, turning you and pushing your back so you were bending over it, his knee between your legs separating them and keeping you from closing them. He started taking your underwear off, his fascinated lusty eyes appreciating how wet you were, practically dripping.

"I wish you could see yourself, you look so lovely, all ready to take me after I made you cum with my fingers. I bet I can make you cum like that again, would you like that?" He asked.

You gulped, "N-no, I want your cock, please fuck me with your cock!"

"My needy baby, so cute. It's 'kay, I'll make you cum around me sweetheart" he responded while his hands caressed your ass lovingly until you couldn't feel them anymore. Soon, you heard him pull his zipper down, anticipating what was yet to come.

"Are you ready, angel?" He asked, pressing the tip of his cock against your throbbing entrance. You nodded, and he started pushing himself inside your velvety walls, stretching you.

With a growl, his hands held you in place by your hips, making sure you wouldn't move from the position he had you in as he started pulling out, ready to repeat the process, meanwhile you were holding a pillow for dear life as your breath got caught in your throat as you waited for him to set up a pace with his hips.

Jisung started slowly, enjoying how you felt around him and loving the way you took him in, looking at how he disappeared which caused him to moan. You, on the other hand, had to resist the urgency of moving. You remember telling Jisung that you wanted him to bruise your cervix, saying that you wouldn't mind new things to which he agreed quickly.

Maybe that was why he had started more than the usual missionary, you were thankful that he kept it in mind, and now surprising you by taking you on the couch, in front of the turned off TV where you could see your blurry reflection getting wrecked from behind by him, it felt incredible.

"You feel so good, I'm so glad your pussy is just mine" he moaned, stopping for a brief second to take your right leg and rest it on the couch to hit a deeper spot inside you, making you start tearing up from pleasure.

"A-all yours" you cried out, inevitably clenching around him when you repeated what he said. You saw his cocku smile through the black mirror that was the TV.

"Ah, J-Jisung, harder!" you demanded with a whine when he found your g spot, the detonator to your best orgasms.

The sudden sting from his hand landing on your butt cheek shocked you, making you moan. "Where are your manners, baby? I thought you were my good angel" he said, starting to slow down the speed that had increased since he started thrusting.

"Please, go hard-harder" you corrected yourself, and once he heard the magic word he instantly did what you had asked of him, provoking you to moan each time he reached where you wanted him, and soon you were clenching around him, legs shaking and walls hugging him tightly causing him to near his climax as well.

It took a few more thrusts for him to find his release, but when he did you felt him filling your insides with his warm seed, a sexy groan coming from his chest and his fingers leaving a bruise on your hips from holding you too hard.

Pulling out from you, he pushed his fingers inside your pussy to keep his cum from hitting the ground, then he carefully pushed you on the couch and walked around it to cuddle with you in his arms.

"I love you" he told you, his hand petting your hair innocently (as if he hadn't fucked your lungs out 5 minute ago).

"I know," you answered, kissing his chest and tightening your arm around his torso in a half hug.

"Let's stay like this for a few minutes and then we can bathe, okay?" you hummed in agreement, enjoying the comfortable silence between the two of you until any of you felt gross enough to want to get cleaned.

You didn't know how much time had passed, but when you realized Jisung wasn't with you any more you stood up looking for him, only to find him filling the tub, a few aromatic candles lighted up, a delicious smell reaching your nostrils. You saw the bathtub was almost all full, so you decided to surprise Jisung by wrapping your arms around his back.

"Let's get cleaned up, what do you say, sweetie?" He said, removing your arms from him and stepping into the warm water, opening his arms for you.

You rolled your eyes, but copied him anyway and rested your back in his chest. The water relaxed your muscles, the candle's scent helped you feel almost like in heaven, and Jisung arm made you know you were safe. Everything was so sweet, until you felt something else poking your lower back.

With a raised eyebrow, you faced your partner with a silent explanation only to find him staring at the love bites on your neck, but you opted for not commenting anything about it.

"You know… I really love you and I'm happy that you accepted to be a part of my life," he said, his deep voice and serious tone getting your attention, so you faced him to hear all he had to say.

"I remember you told Hyunjin that you wanted a big family, and… I know Jisu wouldn't mind having a sibling. I believe now would be a good time to have a baby of our own, but only if you agree with me, honey" he smiled, kissing your shoulder.

"Are you serious?" you asked him after processing his words in your head. He nodded, his hand playing with yours as he waited for you to say something else.

"I would love to, Sungie. I already consider you and Jisu as my family, hell, I feel happy when she tells her friend I'm her mom. So yes, if you're really sure, I want to do it. Let's have a baby" you smiled excitedly, moving to kiss his lips sweetly.

"Then we should keep practicing, shouldn't we?" He joked, winking at you after you ended the kiss. You hit him playfully, giggling at his question.

From joking about it, you two ended up having sex on the tub and staying there until the water got cold and the candles lighted out, and yet, when you were cuddling in bed ready to sleep, you couldn't stop smiling. It had been a fantastic day and even better night and early morning.

Next morning when Jisung saw you walking to the kitchen with his shirt on, he kissed your lips and greeted you with a "good morning, future Mrs. Han," a plate of pancakes in front of you.

"I'm so lucky to have you" you told him, to which he replied with "I'm so lucky to be loved by you."

And you decided that this was pure happiness, you didn't have anything to worry, and you loved your family and your friends a lot, you were almost done with college and starting to plan a wedding. Maybe you weren't rich, but you had everything you wanted and maybe a little more.

After all, engraved in the ring Jisung gave you, it said "for my soul mate", so you had him, for as long as time lasted, and he had you, the missing piece of the puzzle of his life.

You complemented each other, and comprehended each other. What you two had could be considered 'true love', and you were thankful to the universe for placing this single dad in your life, showing you what happiness, and what love was.

"I can't wait to marry you" you sighed, daydreaming about how you wanted the wedding to be.

"And I cannot wait to call you mine legally" he responded, kissing your cheek.

"I've always been yours"

"That's good, because you'll always be mine in the future as well. No quitting now, babe!"

#skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #han jisung x you #han x y/n #han x reader #han smut #han x you #han jisung smut #mine #original content #part 2 #scheduled post

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mustardcustardworks · 4 years ago

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Ok listen. Zuko and Sokka are both awkward with physical touch as a love language, IN THE BEGINNING. We know Zuko struggles with physical affection from years of neglect and abuse, but with Ty Lee and Iroh (although Iroh recognizes it and distances himself for the comfort of his nephew) being outwardly affectionate people who just hug at any given moment, Zuko gradually become a bit more used to people touching him unprompted. He's still reluctant about it by the time he joins the gaang, and when Sokka just offers him a high-five for the first time on the boiling rock his brain short-circuits because "we just escaped the literal death that is my sister and you want to touch me right now?" so he just kind of stands there until Sokka hesitantly and awkwardly draws his hand back. More zukka love language splurge under the cut

That's because he prefers spending quality time with people. In doing that, even in complete silence, you could enjoy the company of someone for so much longer. It could be the simplest task of walking through the palace gardens and saying nothing other that pointing out and commenting on random foliage, and that would be Zuko's favorite experience with that person ever. The awkwardness is clouded by a task or contemplative silence, no need for compliments or touch or emotions, just enjoying company.

Sokka on the other hand, LOVES physical touch. Ever since he was a kid. He always tackled his sister and wrestled with his dad and the other men in the tribe, cuddling with his mom and Katara in polar-bear dog hides on nights that were especially cold. He would always compliment people with a touch to the shoulder or initiate any sort of physical contact because that's just who he his. But when his dad and the men left and his mom was gone, the people that he loved to touch the most disappeared. That just left Katara, but he started growing more distant with her the more they grew up and she assumed a motherly parental role and could talk back and make her own decisions and voice her opinions. There were nights where they wouldn't even speak or communicate at all, sometimes for days on end. On these circumstances he would show his affection by doing what he did best, caring for others and being protective and providing, through acts of service. He would silently show up with game that he knew was Katara's favorite because it was the easiest for her to cook, or traded his boomerang sharpening kit for sacks of sea-prunes that shocked his sister and made her gape at the goods he brought home. He would also preform these acts of service to anyone else in his village as the quote-on-quote "residing chief," doing chores for gran-gran and the other elders while they took their naps, taking the children out for adventures so the adults could spend time doing work without distractions. Through this Sokka felt that he was doing the best he could for his tribe, by providing them with things that they needed, but never asked for.

(This is borderline gift-giving as well, which will help further down.

So when these stupid assholes finally get opportunities to have physical touch with one another, even before "shit I got these feelings", its insanely awkward. Neither of them have any recent experience with touch because a: they're in the middle of a fucking war. B: touch has memories of what could have been (Zuko with Mai, Sokka with his parents and the tribe). And c: they so desperately want to reach out and touch because they remember how good it felt.

But Sokka still completes his acts of service, trying to figure out how to make tea because it reminds Zuko of Iroh. Zuko just casually invites Sokka to sit on the cliff of the air temple when neither of them can sleep and they just sit and talk about anything. Some nights they don't but it doesn't make it different, just allows them to enjoy the company of each other even more (if possible). Sokka is the first one to break, softly reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind Zuko's ear when they're sitting on the grass gazing up at the stars near their campsite. Zuko freezes for a moment when Sokka's fingers linger on his scar, but he visibly relaxes when he realizes that no, its fine, its just Sokka. This is nice. This is at the point where they both realize they have feelings that might not be so platonic, but it doesn't seem foreign or unwelcome, so they let it come as it does. Zuko will sometimes reach out for Sokka's hand when something upsetting happens or a battle is set to begin, or even just casually where they're both just standing and listening to someone, or around the dinner circle enjoying what Katara had prepared. Sokka even came up behind Zuko as he was enjoying a tea (prepared by Sokka, obviously) and just hugs him from behind and presses his chin on Zuko's shoulder. Its still not unwelcome. Zuko doesn't say anything and neither does Sokka, and its a complicated tightrope of what is okay and what is too much, but they let it be.

Fast forward 'til Firelord days and they snuggle under the covers of the bed, Zuko getting to spend time with Sokka as they breath in each others scents and are silent, even though each of them are awake, and Sokka gets to complete an act of service by wrapping his hands around Zuko's waist and being protective and comforting of who he loves. Zuko enjoys every single kind gesture Sokka does, accepting each gift with smiles and gratitude, making his stomach flutter in warmth. Whereas Sokka appreciates the time that Zuko spends with him. He knows words don't come as easy as they do to Zuko as the do to him, so when he still continues to make the effort, it makes him know he is loved. Sokka doesn't hesitate to express his words of adoration, but sometimes they aren't needed. Touch, time, and service is all that they really need, and it works for them.

It's always worked for them when you think about it.

#i saw this as a bleekay post and i had to talk abt it #Zukka #zuko x sokka #sokka x zuko #love langauges #zukka love langauges #that was a lot #WOOOO #zukka splurge #zukka rant #avatar the last airbender #atla #zuko #sokka #Katara #ty lee #iroh #zukka interpretations

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snarky-badger · 3 years ago

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Snapshots 4/5

Grievous Fuckery part 4! This time with Smut! Lmao.

Snarling, Grievous closed a hand around the thug's throat and shook him violently, vaguely aware that two of his Magna droid bodyguards had moved to flank him, electrostaffs held up in warning to the marauder's companions. "What did you do with her?!"

The thug clawed at the metallic hand that was cutting off his airway. ".....d-desert...! W-we dropped h-her.....-hrk!- ...desert!"

Bright yellow eyes narrowed in anger and worry. Being dropped into the deserts of Tattooine was a death sentence. Daytime temperatures were known to reach deadly levels. Dehydration could occur in less than an hour, death in two. Any person who ventured into the deserts unprepared was, more often than not, either found dead, or never found at all. And that was only if the vicious tribes of Sand People didn't come upon them first.

And his taisilee had been dumped into the heart of it.

"Give me the coordinates of her last known location, and, perhaps, I'll rethink my decision to have you all killed."

His shuttle touched down three klicks east of the coordinates the marauder leader had provided, throwing up clouds of sand as it settled in the lee of a rocky outcropping. The ship's sensors were on maximum, struggling to find any life signs amongst the dunes. Topographical maps didn't encourage hope. While they had landed near a series of rocky mountains and outcroppings, the surface temperatures were well above dangerous levels. Dry gusts of sand laden wind were doing a good job of stripping the shuttle's outer hull of it's markings - Grievous didn't want to think about what it could do to unprotected skin.

He left two of his Magna droids at the shuttle, with orders to continue scanning for any signs of life. The other two flanked him as he descended the ramp, his rarely used white cloak billowing out behind him. The heat meant little to him, and even less to the Magna droids. The sand, however, was a different matter. Sand could damage sensitive joints, and in his case, irritate his still organic eyes.

But there was no telling how long the winds would last, or even how much time he had before an inevitable sand storm hit. He had to find Kyra. He only hoped he wasn't too late.

"You two, spread out," he growled to his two guards. "Search the outer ridges. Kyra wouldn't have strayed far from the shelter of the rocks. If she's here, the scanners may have difficulty finding her signal because of interference."

Grievous spun away as he finished speaking, his own sensors stretched to their limits as he sprinted towards a small canyon, stabilizers struggling to compensate for the shifting sand under his feet. Scans had shown a series of caves lining the shallow canyon's walls, the perfect shelter from the overwhelming heat and biting sands.

It was only when his talons hit stone that he stopped, his cloak whipping around him as he let his gaze cut across his new surroundings. Dark shadows dotted the sides of the canyon, outcroppings and shelves of stone making the walls look sharp and unforgiving. The wind buffeted his back, the sensation of sand grating across the back of his skull making him wish his cloak came with a hood.

He was just about to pick his way down to the canyon floor when something caught his gaze, his eyes narrowing as he walked over to crouch in front of a smooth boulder. There, etched into the reddish stone, was a rough copy of the emblem that was on the grey cloak he usually wore.

She had been here! Maybe, was still here.

"Kyra?!" His voice echoed through the canyon, even as he haphazardly jumped from outcropping to outcropping, darting from cave to cave. "Answer me! Kyra!"

Through the echoes of his calls, Grievous caught the telltale howls of hunting Sand People, the sound pulling a snarl from him as he rose his gaze to eye the horizon warily. Knowing time was short, he sped up his search, chemsensors and scanners tuned as high as they would go as he searched for the slightest sign of her, keen eyes cutting across his surroundings for any other possible etchings.

He was halfway through scouring the north side of the gorge when the calls from the Sand People turned into a completely different sort of feral cry. They had found prey. And judging by the sound of blasters, armed prey.

Curious, the cyborg climbed up onto the ridge, keeping low to hide his profile. Using the rough terrain as cover, he darted from boulder to boulder, slowing once he got within visual sight of the fire-fight. Five Sand People were taking cover behind a dune, only reappearing to take shots at a hidden opponent. Grievous narrowed his eyes at the second dune, catching sight of a barrel of a crude blaster before a very familiar glint of fire-red hair sent a shiver of recognition through him. "KYRA!"

She ducked as a shot grazed her cheek, rolling onto her back as she wiped sweat and dirt out of her eyes. The tribe of Sand People had been hunting her for days, having spotted her when she had headed into the canyon hoping to find shelter. While the caves there had given her an advantage - there were mazes of interconnected tunnels in the deepest caves - something had prickled her Force senses, drawing her out of her shelter.

It had been a stupid move. Kyra knew the Tribe had been watching her. She knew they were waiting for an opportunity to catch her. And despite that, she had let her Force instincts draw her out. Even now, while she was dodging blasts, her Force sense was still niggling at her. Though, considering that she had barely slept, and had gone without food for four days, and without water for two, it was possible that she was hallucinating.

With a tired sigh, Kyra rolled back onto her stomach and dared to poke her head over the top of the dune again, her index finger lightly tapping the trigger of her stolen blaster. A shocked gasp left her seconds later when she spied a familliar burnished white form moving amongst the Sand People, four lightsabers whirling with deadly precision.

Grievous dispatched the five tribe members in as many seconds, kicking the final body in disgust before he resettled his lightsabers into the hidden pouches in his cloak and turned towards the sound of shifting sands. Seeing Kyra rushing towards him, Grievous spun and loped down the lee of the dune, heedless of the unstable terrain as he ran over to her.

He reached her just as she stumbled, not slowing as he scooped her into his four arms, taloned feet digging deep into the sand to slow their momentum as he nuzzled his mask into her hair. "Taisilee."

Kyra wrapped shaking arms around him, curling her fingers around bits of his back armor. "I knew you'd find me," she whispered, hearing his low purr/growl as he brushed the lower part of his mask against her forehead, then against her cheek, his upper right hand rising to brush tears from her skin. "I knew you'd come."

"Always," he growled, his voice a low husky rumble. "Always, my taisilee."

Concerned at the pained tint to her scent, Grievous leaned back and really looked at her, a shocked curse leaving him when he saw the horrible sunburn that covered every inch of exposed skin. The marauders had stripped her of everything except a thin tank top and her pants and boots. She looked exhausted, dirty and dehydrated, with little cuts, bruises and scrapes marring her badly sunburned, and sand-grated skin. That she had managed to survive for a week without adequate coverings or water was nothing short of a miracle.

With a protective rumble, he shifted his hold on her, then sent a silent message to his guards, requesting a pick-up. "My shuttle is on it's way," he told her, meeting her gaze. "I made sure to stock some supplies for you."

She leaned into him, feeling him tighten his hold on her. "They took the lightsaber you gave me," she admitted softly, wincing a little when he tensed, a low snarl leaving his vocalizer. "I'm sorry."

Grievous jerked, surprise pushing thoughts of killing the entire lot of marauders from the forefront of his mind. "And why, my taisilee, are you apologizing for something that isn't your fault?"

"....feels like my fault," she murmured sourly.

"Kyra, I saw the state of those thugs. I know you fought them." When she frowned, he ducked his head and gently brushed the lower part of his mask against her chapped lips. "They drugged you, my taisilee. I found the darts they shot you with and had the contents analyzed. With the amount they gave you, you shouldn't have been able to move, never mind fight like you did. You killed three, and wounded seven before the drugs took effect. It was a lost battle that you were forced to fight, my taisilee, and even so, you still fought to the last. It is very..... attractive."

She shivered at the lust in his voice and eyes, blushing when he chuckled and pressed his forehead to hers. Deciding that two could play that game, Kyra lightly brushed a hand across his chest, using a bit of her waning energy to send a teasing thrum into him.

Another chuckle rumbled out of him. "When I get you home, I may just pay you back for that," he purred, snickering when the redness on her face and neck darkened. "All this time, and I can still make you blush, my taisilee."

She passed out the moment Grievous gently set her down on a medical berth, and it took him several tries before he managed to pry her iron grip off of him. Once he was free, he busied himself with carefully slicing away her filthy clothing, tossing it into a waste compartment as he did so. Only then did he do his best to clean the dirt and grime off of her, scowling at the raw, and badly sunburned state of the skin on her face, arms, upper chest and shoulders. Every inch of skin that had been left unprotected to the elements was damaged, and by the sound of the soft whimper that left her, extremely sensitive. The rest of her body was decorated with sporadic bruises, and once he tugged her boots off, he found that she was sporting a badly sprained ankle.

The little first aid supplies he had weren't going to be enough to treat her raw and sunburned skin, and Grievous smothered a growl at the realization. Disgusted at his lack of insight, he settled for dosing her with painkillers and setting up an intravenous drip of saline to combat dehydration. Her body absorbed the water at a frightening rate, making him set up a second bag of the liquid, this time adding a liberal dose of vitamins and minerals that would help boost her recovery.

At the end of his medical knowledge, Grievous sighed and undid the clasp of his cloak, draping the material over her to hide her nakedness. Even though there were only droids on the shuttle, he wasn't about to let anyone other than himself see her without clothing. She was his. And he wasn't above admitting his possessiveness.

The medical scanners gave a warning chirp, and he spun to stare at the readout, hands clenching into fists. Her body temperature was dangerously high. Only one degree higher, and there would be a very serious chance of brain damage.

Cursing, he yanked his cloak off of her, talons shaking as he started to reach for her, only to hesitate mere centimeters from her skin. There was nothing on the shuttle he could use to lower her temperature. And if it edged just one degree higher.....

He whirled and barrelled out of the small room, storming up to the bridge, where two of his Magna droids were piloting the shuttle, eyes narrowing when he realized that they were barely out of the planet's atmosphere. "Why aren't we in hyperspace yet?! We need to get to my Citadel!"

One of the Droids turned crimson optics onto him. "We had to circumnavigate a sandstorm. We'll be in hyperspace momentarily."

"Re-route energy from the shields and weapons," he ordered, giving the console a quick glance. "Push the hyperdrive engines to maximum."

The second guard visibly stiffened before glancing at him. "Lady Kyra?"

Grievous didn't know if he liked the fact that his bodyguards had picked up how much Kyra meant to him. "She requires urgent medical attention," he answered gruffly, barely able to hold back a growl when the droid nodded and turned back to the controls. "Advise me when we land."

He burst out of the shuttle before the ramp had fully lowered, clutching a still unconscious Kyra to himself as he darted into his Citadel and headed for the medical ward, bellowing for his Doctor as he ran.

The medical droid looked rather annoyed at being yelled at, until it spotted Kyra in his Master's arms. Whatever snarky remark it was preparing to give was wisely put aside as it stepped aside to avoid being run over. "Where did you find her?"

"Tatooine's badlands," Grievous answered, pushing past the Doctor and rushing into the cleaning area he usually used to wash the dirt, grime and blood off of himself after a battle. The cloak he had wrapped around her sailed out of the room, landing on the droids head and blocking it's view as the cyborg activated the water jets and lowered the temperature to as cold as he could stand.

It worried him to no end when Kyra didn't even twitch as he angled her under the freezing spray.

The Doctor knew better than to even think about looking at a disrobed Kyra, so it turned it's back to them, scanners running. "How long has her temperature been at such a level?"

"Exactly twenty-one minutes. I administered two intravenous saline drips, a single dose of painkillers, and a vitamin cocktail as soon as I got her onto the shuttle," Grievous told it, grimacing as the cold water seeped into his joints. But he pushed his discomfort aside and kept Kyra's body under the jets, tilting her face against his shoulder to keep her from accidentally inhaling any water. "She lost consciousness as soon as I brought her onboard. I haven't been able to wake her."

"....it has been documented that some Sith and Jedi can enter a sort of healing trance when they are wounded. She may have fallen into such a trance as soon as she found herself safe enough to do so. By doing so, she may have kept her temperature from rising any higher."

He mulled that over for a second. "What are the chances that she contracted brain damage?"

"Statistically? Twenty-five point two percent. However, my scans show an increase in brain activity, and there is a significant rise in theta waves."

"Theta waves? That's not Force related, is it?"

"Unknown. I do not have other scans to compare with. Though her body temperature has dropped oh-point-seven degrees since you arrived. I estimate that another ten minutes under the cold water will bring her core temperature back to a safe level."

Grievous felt some of the tension leave his frame at the information and slumped a little under the stream of water, holding back a curse as the frigid spray hit him in the face. Hissing, he shook his head, blinking the cold water away as he returned his attention to the woman in his arms, frowning down at her worriedly as he split his arms into four.

Three arms cradled her while he rose the fourth to her face, lightly brushing her soaked hair aside and panicking a little when his talons got caught in her tangled locks. With a dismayed growl, he carefully extracted his fingers, then cast his gaze around the cleaning area, grumbling when he couldn't find anything that was safe enough to use on delicate human skin.

"Here, sir."

Blinking, the cyborg glanced towards the medical droid, quirking a hidden brow when he saw the liquid soap container being held out to him. Grunting, he snatched it out of the Doctor's grip, re-adusting his hold on Kyra until his upper hands were free, his lowers keeping her cradled against him.

He spent the following ten minutes washing out her hair and gently scrubbing dirt off of her skin, taking great delight in running his upper hands through the fiery locks once he had worked out all of the tangles and knots.

And when his Doctor announced that Kyra's core temperature was only one degree above normal, he fairly launched himself out of the spray of water, nearly taking out the medical droid in the process.

A distinct lack of towels had him grabbing his cape once again, giving it a rough shake before he wrapped it around her, snarling at the droid in warning when it moved the edge of the cloak aside to look at her sunburn. "Don't even think about putting her in a bacta tank."

"But--"

"No."

The droid let out something very close to an exasperated sigh. "Then I'll prepare a bacta-infused salve for her burns."

"Good." He carefully reintegrated his arms back into two, then held Kyra tighter against him. "Is she stable enough for me to bring her to our room?"

"For the moment. Though I suggest you bring a portable medical scanner with you."

Could have mentioned that before I reintegrated my arms. Stupid droid. With a growl, Grievous split his left arm into two, snatched up the offered scanner, then stalked out of the medical bay, trying very hard to ignore the urge to behead the droid with a lightsaber.

Slowly, being careful of her sunburned back and shoulders, Grievous lay her down on their bed, pausing to brush her hair out of her face before he turned to fetch a roll of elastic bandage from her things. Once he had found one, he moved to the end of the bed and started to wrap her sprained ankle, plasteel talons glaringly white against the dark bruise.

When he had it wrapped to his satisfaction, he returned to her side, stretching out beside her and lightly brushing the fingers of his right hand across her cheek. Now that there was no audience, and thus no reason to hold back any longer, he gingerly slid his arms around her and gently rearranged her onto her side, curling his raptorine body around her as he tucked her as close as possible.

He murmured her name, one hand stroking her cheek as he stared at her face, practically willing her to wake up. "Please, taisilee," he whispered, brushing his curled fingers across her skin. "Please. Wake up."

Moving silently, Grievous slid into the steam filled bathroom, barely managing to hold back a predatory growl as he edged towards the enclosed shower, and the woman within. Her soft humming hid the low click of his plasteel talons opening the shower door, and he struck, cackling at her shriek of laughter as he wrapped his arms around her and pushed her further under the stream of warm water.

"You--!" Laughing, Kyra smacked him on the shoulder, knowing full well that the hit wouldn't harm him in the least. "Don't scare me like that!"

He chuckled, holding her to him with one arm while he playfully flicked her wet bangs out of her eyes with his free hand. "Where's the fun in that, my taisilee?" he teased, gently pushing her back against the tiled wall before he ducked his head and nuzzled his masked face against her neck. "Mm. Besides, I thought I'd help you clean up."

"Oh, is that your reason for pouncing on me?"

"I never need a reason to pounce on you," he retorted playfully, chuckling as he lifted her and carefully interspersed himself between her thighs, groaning happily when she tightened her legs around him, her knees snug against his sides. The stream of water poured over his back, the warmth seeping into his armor and joints as he used his body to keep the droplets from blinding Kyra. He shifted his stance a little to better support her, taloned feet finding purchase on the slick tiles. His hands dropped to massage her buttocks as he closed his eyes to focus on the sensations the sensors across his body was bombarding him with. "Ohh, taisilee...."

Smiling, Kyra wound her arms around his shoulders, placing a kiss on his mask just over his vocalizer and sending a little thrum of energy into him. His eyes shot open, a low growl leaving him as he met her sapphire gaze before his arms split into four, two continuing to support her while he rose the other two to frame her face with his hands.

Purring, he pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes again when she lightly stroked one of the sensors on either side of his head. "I want you," he growled, skimming his hands over her shoulders and frowning when he felt her tense, her breath leaving her in a pained hiss.

"Sorry," Kyra grimaced, dropping her eyes from his worried golden gaze. "My shoulders are still a little sensitive. I didn't mean to ruin the moment."

He rumbled and shook his head. "You've ruined nothing," he murmured, brushing her wet hair back so he could study her sunburned skin. "I can wait the few minutes it will take to treat your burns." At her curious look, he chuckled and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her chest flush with his and shivering as the sensors in his armor sang with pleasure. "I have a new batch of the bacta-infused salve for your burns. All this changes is that I'll treat your skin earlier than I had planned."

"Oh, really?" A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "And what else did you plan?"

Another chuckle left him. "Oh, this and that," he said evasively, snickering at the pout she gave him. Her fingers stroked the hidden seams in his chest armor, her touch activating rarely online cybernetic sensors and pulling a deep moan from him. Groaning, he nuzzled his face into her neck, his upper hands moving to knead her breasts. "Mmm. Shower's over."

Taking her breathy moan as agreement, Grievous shifted his lower arms and held her more securely against him, bringing her with him as he carefully stepped out of the enclosed shower. He paused only long enough to shut off the water and snatch up a couple of towels before he carried her out of the attached suite and into the bedroom.

It was only when he was standing at the end of the bed that he gently set her on her feet, brushing his mask against her lips before he knelt in front of her. He locked his arms back into two, glancing up at her playfully as he started to dry her off, starting at her ankles and slowly working his way up her body. He caressed and nuzzled spots of soft skin as he worked, delighting in the growing scent of arousal he picked up from her.

A purr rumbled out of him when she skimmed her hands over his shoulders, and up his neck to his masked face, sending little eddys of power dancing across his sensors.

"Keep your hands to yourself, taisilee, else I won't be able to hold back long enough to treat your sunburns," he chastised her, shivering when she smirked and leaned down to place a kiss on his cheek. "I'll tie you down if you don't listen."

"I'll get loose," she sing-songed, meeting his burning gaze when he surged to his feet and advanced on her, gently pushing her backwards until she bumped into the edge of the bed.

Unable to think of any restraints that wouldn't cause her harm, Grievous effortlessly tore the towel into strips, chuckling at her shocked look. "I did warn you," he teased, laughing when she tried to make a run for the bathroom. He lunged after her, cackling at her startled yelp as he slung her over his shoulder and carried her back to the bed, treated to a lovely view of the curve of her thigh when she tried to struggle free.

"I didn't think you were serious!" she protested, hands scrambling at his back armor as she tried to push herself upright.

"And who's fault is that?" he mused, snickering as he dropped her onto the bed and pounced on her before she could make another run for it. Crouching over her, Grievous deftly caught her hands and wrapped a strip of the torn towel around her wrists, leaning down to brush the lower part of his mask against her lips before he gripped her hips and flipped her onto her stomach.

"Oof!" Kyra tossed her head to get her hair out of the way and glared at Grievous over her left shoulder as he straddled her hips. The cyborg looked entirely too pleased with himself, eyes shining as he met her gaze and gave her an lecherous look, his hands already starting to caress her bare back. Grumbling, she focused on her bindings, giving an annoyed curse when she didn't recognize the type of knot. "This is massively unfair."

He chuckled and reached out to carefully move her damp and curling hair off her partially healed sunburned shoulders. "Behave, and maybe I'll let you go when I'm finished treating your burns," he offered, playfully trailing his plasteel talons down her spine and growling softly as he watched goosebumps break out over her skin.

Moving gingerly to avoid hurting her, Grievous braced himself and reached over the edge of the bed, picking up the jar of salve he had set there earlier before he resettled himself on his knees, still straddling Kyra's hips. The salve, he had discovered, had little to no scent, which, to him, was a boon. He had never understood why some humans obscured their scents with perfumes and chemicals. Certainly, he was glad that Kyra didn't use such things; he liked her natural scent.

"That stuff doesn't stink does it?" Kyra asked curiously, further endearing herself to him without even knowing it.

"No," he assured her, rubbing a hand down her back to calm her when she cast a wary look over her shoulder. "I would not have approved of it otherwise. You know how much I like your scent, taisilee. I'm not about to put some horrid smelling concoction on you. Now, lie still. I don't want your hair getting in the way."

She sighed and lay her cheek on her arm. "I really should cut it."

"Don't you dare," he scolded as he opened the jar and scooped some of the salve onto two fingers. Setting the jar to the side, he reached out to run his free hand through her hair, the locks curling around his digits. "I like your hair, too."

An amused chuckle left her. "Yeah, but you're biased."

He growled happily. "When it comes to you, my taisilee? Always. Now brace yourself, this is rather cool."

"You haven't actually touched my shoulders, have you?" she murmured wryly, shivering when Grievous rubbed the cold salve across her burned skin. The relief was almost instant. The heat and tightness vanished, the aching tension in her muscles easing. Even the painful over-sensitivity calmed, turning his gentle massage into something pleasurable instead of something she needed to endure for her own well being.

The blissful sigh that left her made him purr as he worked the bacta infused cream into her skin, feeling her relax under him. Every patch of skin that radiated heat, he covered with a thin layer of salve, lightly massaging her neck and shoulders. He used the opportunity to explore her back and sides, finding which spots made her bite back laughter and wiggle in an attempt to get away and which pulled pleased moans from her.

Only when he had treated every inch of burned skin did he fully indulge himself, splitting his arms into four and bracing himself on knees and lower arms as he leaned over her, growling as he nuzzled the nape of her neck. His upper hands slid up her sides and under her, to cup her breasts, his growl deepening to a guttural purr when she gasped out his name and arched her back, giving him better access to the side of her throat.

He rubbed his mask into her hair, drinking in her scent. "I have something I want to try," he rasped, shifting his weight back onto his knees so he could free his lower arms, hands brushing over the small of her back before he wrapped his left lower arm around her waist and tilted her pelvis up against his. His right slid around her, fingers finding her core, a low growl rumbling out of him when she mewled and rocked her hips into his hand. "But I want you to promise me that if you feel the slightest bit uneasy, that you'll tell me."

She moaned as he slid a finger into her, his uppermost hands still kneading her breasts as he pressed his chest against her back. "G-Grievous...."

"Promise me, taisilee," he purred into her ear, trying hard to hold himself back, despite how wet and hot her core felt around his finger. He could already feel an echo of her own pleasure starting to warm his innards, her thoughts brushing against his, building the odd loop of pleasure that let her bring him through his own completion.

"I promise!" she said breathlessly, hearing his low chuckle as he slid a second finger into her, slowly pumping his hand against her.

"Good. Now let me feel." Growling, he quickened his caresses, gripping her breasts as he pushed her down into the bed again, grinding his hips against her buttocks to push her pleasure higher, shivering when an echo of what she felt rippled through him. "I want to feel you, taisilee. Now."

Kyra gasped, struggling to reach out with her Force powers, brushing her thoughts against his and shuddering at the want and lust he openly sent to her. "Grievous!"

He hissed in pleasure and closed his eyes, fingers sliding deeper. "Yesss. Now."

A cry left her as her orgasm crashed through her, dimly aware of Grievous' arms tightening around her as her climax echoed into him. He snarled, a shudder wracking him before he moaned and hugged her, gasping for breath.

She was still trying to catch her breath when his comforting weight vanished, listening as he darted over to a small trunk and rifled through it. "Grievous?"

"One moment, taisilee."

Dazed, and with little aftershocks still going though her, she blew her bangs out of her eyes and tried to see what he was doing. That effort was thwarted when he caught sight of her and rushed over to toss a blanket over her head. "Hey!" She struggled to free her head, pausing when she heard a click followed by his low moan of pleasure. "What are you--?"

"J-Just a moment."

Frowning at the odd tone of his voice, Kyra used a bit of power to Force Push the blanket off of her, gasping when Grievous suddenly flipped her onto her back and stretched out on top of her, his eyes fairly glowing with excitement. "What was that all about?"

"I'll show you. But first," he playfully brushed his mask over her lips, all four hands exploring her body. "Eyes closed."

She blinked, but when he didn't elaborate, sighed and closed her eyes, shivering when he gently coaxed her legs open. She was still sensitive, unable to hold back a gasp when he leaned down to nuzzle her abdomen, sliding two fingers into her, going right for her g-spot.

"I wish I could taste you," he growled against her skin, breathing in lungfuls of her scent and purring in pleasure. "Even this won't fully make up for it."

"What--?" Kyra cut herself off with a moan when he grasped her hips with his lower hands, his uppers returning to her breasts. Instinct had her rolling her hips towards him, a startled cry leaving her when he chuckled and copied the motion, something long and hard sliding into her, stretching her.

Her eyes shot open, locking onto Grievous' burning gaze as he held himself above her, fairly trembling as he stared down at her, eyes wide. Unable to help the blush that spread over her cheeks, Kyra glanced down at their linked bodies before looking up at him again. "You didn't."

"Best technology available, after myself of course," he purred, bracing himself on his upper arms as he leaned down to nuzzle her. "It's connected into my neural net. And, oh, it feels so real, like I remember.... And you, ohhh taisilee, you feel incredible." He gently moved his hips against hers, growling at the sensations that shot through his body as his new 'member' was caressed by her core. ".....want you. So beautiful. Want to take you...."

Kyra gasped, automatically moving to meet his thrusts as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up until she was straddling him. Talons tore through the bindings on her wrists, letting her grip his shoulders for stability while he nuzzled his face against her cheek, panting heavily. She clung to him, crying out when he put a hand to the small of her back and changed the angle of his entry, hitting the spot inside her that nearly tipped her over the edge.

He growl/hissed and closed a fist in her hair, watching her face as he canted his hips to hers, shouting when she caught his gaze and smirked, tightening her muscles around him. It felt so real. As if his cock was flesh and blood instead of carefully crafted plasteel and circuitry. And, oh, the embarrassment of getting it made was worth it. It was perfect. Kyra was perfect. And his. Wholly his.

A snarl left him. "Mine," he hissed, tightening three arms around her, the fourth still gripping her hair. "Mine."

"Yours," Kyra echoed breathlessly, hearing his growl as he snapped his pelvis to hers, going even deeper into her. "G-Grievous! Please!"

He leaned further back onto his knees, legs slightly spread, lower hands going to her hips to pull her onto his thrusts, groaning when he felt her curl her legs around him. She was clinging to him, mewling his name as she leaned her forehead on his shoulder. He felt the familiar sensation of her Force abilities brush against his thoughts, and welcomed it, a shudder wracking him when he felt the echoes of her own pleasure.

Half a dozen more thrusts and Kyra cried out, arching her back as her inner muscles spasmed around him. The feeling sent shock waves through him, a strangled howl ripping it's way out of his throat as his 'attachment' sent overwhelming sensations into his neural net. He convulsed against her, eyes clenched shut at the long-missed sensations of true - if artificial - physical, completion.

Gasping, his breath coming in rasping pants, Grievous rose a shaking hand to brush his fingers across Kyra's cheek, meeting her warm gaze when she rose her head to look at him. "Taisilee."

She smiled weakly, still shivering as little aftershocks washed through her. "....I love you, too," she whispered, placing a kiss on his mask, just under his left eye and gasping when he pressed a hand on the small of her back and smoothly rocked his pelvis against hers. He growled and cupped her face in his upper hands, locking gazes with her as he started moving within her again, his lower hands holding her hips, encouraging her to meet his movements.

"You've given me back what I lost," he murmured, golden eyes staring into sapphire. "I accepted the changes to myself, but I trapped myself in the process. I lost everything. All I had was my rage, and my hate." Purring raggedly, Grievous pressed his forehead to hers, keeping up his slow thrusts into her. "You showed me that I wasn't just what I had become. That I didn't have to.... to limit myself. That I could have more. So, so much more." He punctuated the last word with a strong slide within her, rubbing up against the spot in her that made her gasp, her eyes darkening.

"You never treated me as anything but Kaleesh, never a cyborg, never a droid. You've given me everything I thought out of my reach. Friendship, a mate. That you'd let me touch you, let me find pleasure again..... trust me enough to even touch your thoughts to mine...." He slid his upper hands into her hair, gathering the wild locks into his fists and brushing the lower part of his mask across her lips. "I will never let you go, my taisilee. Never."

She shivered when he growled, expressive reptilian eyes fairly glowing as he pushed her down into the blankets, his hips churning against her, the new angle meaning that every deep thrust brushed her g-spot. He stretched out over her, hissing when she wrapped her legs around him again, letting him drive himself into her. Gasping for breath and mumbling Kaleesh endearments, Grievous locked his arms back into two and grasped her hands, pinning her arms above her head.

Her inner muscles fluttered around his cock, the sensation pulling a deep growl from him as he stared down at her, watching her as he drove her closer and closer to climax. She bit her lower lip as she met his gaze, sapphire eyes glittering, even as she brushed her fingers against his, sending a wave of energy dancing up his arms and across his chest. The pulse went straight to his innards, the pleasure echoing through him in an ever-growing shockwave until it was too much to endure.

He arched his back, roaring as his climax ripped through him, hips jerking against hers, dimly aware of her own cry of pleasure as her core spasmed around him. A long, drawn-out moan left him at the sensation, his heart hammering in it's protective gutsack.

Stunned by the overwhelming pleasure, Grievous slumped on top of her, face buried in her hair as he wheezed, struggling to regain his breath. Limbs twitched with aftershocks, each little movement accompanied with a small flash of bliss. Kyra was trembling under him, gasping, warm breath tickling the right sensor on the side of his head. Still dazed, he regained enough coordination to release her hands, sliding his palms down the length of her arms and across her shoulders in calming strokes.

After a few long minutes, he gently pulled himself out of her, murmuring endearments at her soft moan. Knowing he wouldn't be able to rest while it was tied into his neural network, he carefully reached down and, with a hiss at the pleasure his own touch caused, unlocked and slid the plate the sex-tool was attached to out of the thin groove of his pelvic armor.

He reached back to set the alloy tool on the bed behind him, grimacing when he set it down only for it to roll off and thunk to the floor. Kyra shook against him then, burying her face against his chest, and he glanced down at her, chuckling when he found that she was struggling not to laugh. "You won't be laughing if it's damaged," he teased, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her close.

Kyra snickered. "We made do before you got it," she smiled, placing a kiss on his chest. "Not that I'm complaining."

"No," he purred, brushing a hand across her shoulders and up to stroke her hair. "No complaints." He gently slid his free hand between them, palm pressing against her abdomen. "Did I hurt you?"

She reached up to press the fingers of her right hand to his mask, just over his vocalizer. "You didn't hurt me. Trust me, with how close our thoughts were, you would have known. You're not the only one who lost control for a moment there."

He gave a pleased, very male, growl and nuzzled her cheek, wrapping his arms around her to pull her into the curve of his body. "Good." Purring gutterally, Grievous curled his raptorine body around her, tugging a fur up over her bare back and shoulders to help keep her warm.

tbc

#grievous fuckery #general grievous #snarky is writing #grievous x oc #star wars #fanfiction #fanfic #help me obi wan kenobi i wrote grievous smut

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yuthoe · 4 years ago

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Day 6: Muse (MONSTA X: Lee Minhyuk)

REPOST BC IT DIDN'T SHOW UP IN THE TAGS LAST TIME

i was wondering when i'd finally miss a day of this challenge HAHAHA, but here it iiiisssss! today's prompt is

Day 6: Artist & Model

from this prompts list. i cheated a bit, using a short story i submitted to a creative writing class in college, but i edited quite a bit of it (in the original, the guy is bound and the artist is a woman) bc i wanted to make the reader as gender neutral as i could.

this story is kinda my baby, but at the same time im tired of looking at it by myself and letting it rot unseen in my college files lol. it's probably still horrible tho, even if i did get a relatively high grade for that class HAHAHAHA. i'm putting all of it under the cut bc we going RIGHT TO IT

PAIRING: Lee Minhyuk x reader. GENRE: smut (bc there's bondage and ~feelings~), fic. WARNINGS: bondage, ropes, gagging, mild suggestiveness. WORD COUNT: 1,501.

---

Minhyuk loops the rope one last time around your wrists, the white cotton startlingly bright against your skin. The series of crisscrosses start from your elbows down, secured with a small knot you can easily pull on if you want to unravel the whole thing. Your arms are pulled back behind you, looking almost suspended in movement; the rope gives no leeway, no space to move even an inch.

“How is it?” Minhyuk asks, moving on all fours on the bed to check for any signs of discomfort on his friend’s face. It’s almost a relief to be looking away from the ropes, if he’s being honest. If he weren’t so worried about this being your first time with bondage, he’d probably just sit there and stare at the intersecting lines and patterns the ropes make, the way they dig into the plush of your arms. “Are you good?” he asks again, swallowing.

You shift and squirm, the sheets rustling underneath you as you adjust your position. You open and close your hands, move your shoulders to try and dislodge the ropes, but they won’t budge. While Minhyuk was securing you in the bond, you didn’t feel a pull at all—he was very gentle, and you were even worried the ties would be a little loose.

Obviously, that isn’t the case now, as here you are—donning shorts and a tank top, a gag in your mouth, and your arms securely tied at your back.

Your eyes meet Minhyuk’s and you nod, impressed and a little scared that your friend group’s resident funny man is the kinkiest person you know because, with the way the ropes are tied, the way he walked you through the whole process… it’s like he’s done it before, and multiple times.

But while the sudden realization is scary, it is also very, very hot, so you’re not complaining.

“All right, just stay like that,” Minhyuk says, and you watch him hop off the bed and scurry to the corner of the room to drag the broken-in armchair across the floor. He shifts it this way and that, just out of your field of vision, miniscule adjustments that he insists helps him sketch better. It isn’t the first time you’ve modeled for your partner, so this is all familiar territory.

The ropes and the cloth between your teeth are new, though.

You inhale deeply. Exhale. You try to make yourself comfortable in the pose Minhyuk directed you into, sitting with one leg tucked underneath the other like a mermaid. You’re definitely gonna be sore later.

The springs squeak in the armchair, and you see Minhyuk tucking himself into the seat while flipping to an empty page on his sketchbook. You ground yourself on the familiar sight; he really is pretty, with the sharp jaw and piercing eyes. Sometimes you wonder what it would be like to have any artistic talents, so you could draw him too. Alas, the best you can do to replicate his image is a stick man.

“You still good, Y/N?” he asks, and without waiting for an answer, starts sketching. You hear the faint scratches of the pencil on paper, some light and long, some quick and short with a fuller sound.

It’s quiet, as Minhyuk is always quiet when he draws. He told you once that the silence is calming, the sounds of nature and graphite on paper helping him concentrate. You don’t know how long it’s been since he started sketching—your phone is on the desk at the opposite wall, and the clock’s batteries have run out.

The rhythmic scratching of Minhyuk’s sketching overtakes your senses, makes you doze off. You only notice when you start drooping forward, and you have to stop yourself from plummeting face-first into the mattress.

You shake your head, shift slightly to wake yourself up, and—oh.

Shivers wrack your body. Your arms, stiff with disuse, tingle as the ropes dig into your flesh, and you tense as if trying to break free of the bonds. You feel the resistance of the rope and try to breathe in deeply, keeping the oxygen in your lungs before breathing out slowly. Your back curves forward as you exhale and you struggle keeping in the moan that threatens to erupt from the feel of the rope.

Minhyuk notices the movement and pauses his sketching, moving his canvas out of the way to peek at you. “You okay there, Y/N?”

You take in another deep breath and nod frantically, still facing the direction of the desk, still sitting there how he wants, obedient and pliant.

The next thing you know, the hair that’s fallen into your face is brushed away, and you lift your head to meet Minhyuk’s concerned face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

A shaky nod.

“Really?”

Another nod, more resolved.

“We can stop if you want.”

You shake your head.

Minhyuk purses his lips, weighing whether or not to continue, and you feel a little guilty for worrying him, but you’re overwhelmed!

Finally he sighs. “Think you can wait like, five minutes? I’m almost done, babe.”

You let out a muffled “mhm”.

As soon as Minhyuk steps off the bed, you take another deep breath to compose yourself.

God, his fingers in your hair felt nice. Has it really been that long since you had any physical contact? It took everything in you to not lean into his touch, to not let out a sound, to not disobey him and keep still.

You close your eyes and crack your stiff neck, trying to relax once again. You will your breathing to slow and your body to move back into position, long enough for Minhyuk to finish the sketch. But with each second that passes, with each scratch of graphite that reaches your ears, it gets harder and harder to keep composed.

You can feel yourself sweat, and your thighs are shaking and tired from keeping your position. The rope restricting you feels tighter, its fibers digging into your skin—or is that just your imagination? Has it been five minutes or five hours? You’re not sure.

You take another breath—Is Minhyuk done yet?

The bed dips and you open your eyes. Minhyuk’s dark brown eyes look back at you, satisfied and grateful.

“You were really good, baby, thank you,” he says softly. A hand cups the back of your head and the other pulls down the cloth gag, leaving it to hang around your neck. Minhyuk leans forward and quickly kisses you on the lips.

“Can I get out of these now?” you said, voice hoarse and scratchy from disuse. You try swallowing spit, but it only makes your mouth drier.

Minhyuk snorts. “The sketch looks great, thanks for asking,” he jokes and rolls his eyes. “No joke, though, you look really beautiful like this.” He slowly, gently lifts you up, giving your aching thighs a reprieve and settling you on his lap. You feel his warm hands rub and massage your tender flesh as he smiles at you. “Kinda wanna just have my way with you right now.”

You whine, “You’re killing me here!” and he just answers with a laugh. You squirm, trying to loosen the ropes, but your muscles are jelly. You’re still wound up from being in the ropes too long; you just want to get out of them and hold him again, press kisses into his face and run your hands through his silky hair.

Minhyuk isn’t helping either—his hands are everywhere, squeezing at your waist, running over your still trapped arms, cradling your neck, slipping under your shirt. His lips are at your neck, pressing kisses up your jaw and your ears, further amplifying your need to just touch with your own two hands.

Is this what the girls feel like in all those pornos? The heat, the haze, the feeling of feeling everything and nothing at the same time?

“Man, you knew what you were doing when you asked me to model for you,” you say, voice catching on a moan as he lightly nips at your ear.

Minhyuk chuckles and pulls away, smooths a thumb across your lip. You tremble in his hold. “So…? Wanna have a go? We can just try it out, but if you want to stop in the middle, we’ll stop.”

Would you even want to, though? In the event that you say yes and play out a scene, would you really, voluntarily choose to stop?

Do you want to get out of these ropes? Yes. But do you also want to see what Minhyuk is going to do with you in these ropes?

… Also yes.

There isn’t a doubt right now that you’re really, really absurdly curious as to what Minhyuk has planned for you.

You take a deep, shaky breath and lick your lips, anticipation clear in your eyes. “Okay,” you say, letting him take the reins. But still, you press closer and give him a kiss as you whisper, “I’m all yours.”

#kdiarynet #monsta x smut #monsta x minhyuk #minhyuk #lee minhyuk #monsta x minhyuk scenario #monsta x minhyuk imagine #minhyuk scenario #minhyuk imagine #monsta x scenario #monsta x imagine #fic: mine #fic: minhyuk #fic: spicy #theme: may trope mayhem 2021

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writersindigestion · 4 years ago

Text

taken | edward nygma x reader

“beware of the snakes.”

reader gender: female

word count: 2464

warnings: drugs, violence, suicidal ideation, abuse

notes: i mean, y’all wanted him back, didn’t ya?

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE

Vaguely, she remembered someone handing her a doggy bag, and being driven to the precinct, where she was promptly handcuffed to a cot. She was vastly unimpressed with this treatment, and made it a point to everyone who so much as walked into the med bay. “What the fuck is this? Shouldn’t I be at, I don’t know… A real hospital?” [Y/N] inquired unhappily, rattling her cuffs around - just to annoy her caretakers, of course.

Unfortunately, Dr. Thompkins was the one watching over her, for the most part, and she was very close to smacking her patient for being so insufferable.“You’re under 48-hour suicide watch. They brought you here, because they thought this was the best place to keep you safe, as well as the people around you,” Lee explained, peeling off a pair of thick, plastic gloves with practiced monotony.

[Y/N] tried to cross her arms, but was restricted by the metal cuffs. A discontented scowl made its across her face, she settled again for making as much noise as physically possible with her restraints. “Yeah, yeah - I get it,” She deadpanned, staring blankly ahead of her, “Aren’t they better prepared to deal with suicidal patients at, I don’t know… A real hospital?”

Lee wasn’t pleased, “The order came from a higher authority - I had nothing to do with it. Evidently, my medical opinion doesn’t matter.” She scrutinized her patient for a moment. “How are you feeling?”

The detained woman stopped rattling just long enough to think past her own indignance. A higher authority? It was obvious who that was, regardless of how vague the title. What did he gain from her being at the precinct? What did she lose by being at the precinct? “What higher authority? Why do they want me here?” She was starting to sound like a paranoid addict - which, she was, but that didn’t mean she had to admit it. “I’m terrible. Thank you for asking. How are you? Why am I here?”

Dr. Thompkins’ face grew more serious, and she pulled a stool up next to the bed. “I’m just fine, [Y/N],” She replied, her brow knotted tightly together, “It’s not really my place to question orders - I do it anyways, but that doesn’t mean I get answers.” The doctor gazed over the other woman, observing her anxious, unfocused expression and jittery movements. She was suicidal - that much seemed obvious, but what was going on beneath, if anything? “You are here, because you seemed very intent on killing yourself not even a few hours ago, to the point where you were fighting the cops and were tased. You are here, because we need to watch over you, and make sure you are safe. Do you understand, or are you worried about something else?”

[Y/N] gritted her teeth at the inquisition, goosebumps rising along her limbs. What did he want? What was his plan? What did he gain from this? She shouldn’t say anything. It wasn’t secure here - or anywhere, really. She shouldn’t say anything. She should say nothing. Not anything, not anything, nothing. Words flew from her lips before she could stop them, “Something else.”

Lee leaned closer to her patient, resting a careful, tender hand on top of the other woman’s. Clearly, there was something wrong, and her charge did not feel safe enough to say what that was. She gripped lightly, trying to draw her attention. “The door is closed - are you afraid of someone seeing you? Or is it something else?”

A short silence. “Something else.”

“The handcuffs are in place to keep you here, so we can watch you, and to help make sure you won’t hurt yourself,” She explained, “Are they too tight? Or is it something else?”

“Something else.”

The doctor searched for more things that could be wrong, running over the situation in her head. She blinked, her eyes catching sight of a small pendant around [Y/N]’s neck - a tiny, no-nonsense heart that rested easily near her sternum. Extending from another cord was a shiny cross. Briefly, she checked the area for burns from the earlier tasing. “... Is it your girlfriend? She tried to see you, but we couldn’t get clearance. We sent Chrysanthemum home, and will be calling periodically to check on her. Is that worrying you? Or is it something else?”

The patient’s fingers curled into a fist, her nails digging into her palms. “... Yes.”

“I can try to get her clearance again, if you want to see her. It will probably go through if I make a case for you. Is that what you want?”

Her answer was immediate, “No. Keep her away.”

Dr. Thompkins was obviously troubled with her vehement demand, and tried once again to wrap her mind around it. What higher authority? Why do they want me here? “Is someone trying to hurt you? Is someone trying to hurt Chryss?”

[YN]’s tongue wrestled with itself, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the thing that was screaming at her temporal lobe. She wanted to tell her. It would be so easy. Who would it put in danger? Her lover? Her doctor? Her old coworkers? Herself, least importantly?

Lee didn’t need a response. She pulled her phone from her pocket, swiftly selecting a number and waiting to hear the series of rings - or better yet, an actual reply. No one would pick up.

She called three times to find no answer.

A door opened to their right, an alert-looking officer striding in. “Dr. Thompkins,” He called, an urgent look on his face, “They need you out there. I was sent in to watch the patient.”

The medical professional glanced between her coworker and her charge, concern creating valleys across her smooth face. She leaned in towards the other woman, giving her hand a squeeze. “I’ll be right back. Yell if you need anything.”

[Y/N]’s heart dropped, a renewed sense of dread washing over her like a tidal wave. As Lee rose from her seat to leave the room, she made a grab for her arm, but the cuffs ceased her movements. She nearly whimpered to see the door swing closed behind the doctor. Her attention redirected to the nameless man she was placed in the care of, a snarl painting itself onto her visage. “Don’t you fucking try anything, cocksucker.”

The man’s mind was adrift with conflict, with confusion, but he had been given orders, and it was his duty as a cop to fulfill them. His face steeled, and he crossed the room to her side, smothering a scream with his palm as he fumbled with a syringe. He tried to keep quiet, tried to keep his trap shut, but it wasn’t in his nature to cause distress in an otherwise harmless person. “I’m really sorry about this,” The officer stuttered, his hand making its way towards the meaty part of her thigh, where he inserted the needle

She did not immediately quiet, like he’d seen in movies and tv, but his ‘superiors’ had warned him about this. He simply kept his hand pressed to her mouth, his free arm stopping her from struggling too much. After only about a minute and a half, he felt the woman in his grasp slowly decompress, and fall lax. The man removed his hands from her personage, taking a step back to observe. It was incredibly unnerving - her eyes were open, though half lidded, and it was easy to pretend she was awake.

Except she still was, barely.

A gurgle rose up from [Y/N]’s throat, and her head lolled to the side, lips parted just slightly. The cop panicked, reaching forward to cover her mouth again. Briefly, he felt her fingers start to curl around his wrist, and he relented.

[Y/N] was fading fast, and had she the mental capacity to feel afraid, she would, but the strongest part of her knew that something had to be done. She had things she needed to say, topics she needed to address - there was a very, very tiny allotment of seconds in which to speak. Operating her tongue had been getting increasingly hard over the past few months, but never before had she been so thoroughly tranquilized that she literally couldn’t talk. Finally, with her mouth stuffed full of rubik's cubes, and her muscles full of cotton balls, she managed to slur out, “He’s gonna hurt me.”

The officer almost screamed himself, hearing the words that she had to say. He panicked four times over, trying to shake the woman awake. A door opened behind them, and his voice lowered to a frantic whisper, “Who? Who?” But she was too far gone this time, her eyes glazed over to meet the figure that entered into the room.

[Y/N] woke up probably twelve hours later, her body wrapped in slimey, icy tendrils and her hair wrenched back. She screamed, squirming away from the tentacles that swarmed her figure, but they only pulled her tighter.

The foreign limbs were scaly and had the strength of 1,000 men, tugging her deeper into their coils with every passing second - no matter how hard she struggled. And they grasped around her throat, coveting every fragile, raspy breath that she tried to draw.

Minutes passed by, though they seemed like hours, and she couldn’t help but feel that her life should have ended several moments before. She was choking, she was unable to breathe, but she still lived, she still struggled. It was just another nightmare that she couldn’t wake from.

Except she was awake - sort of.

Eventually, it occurred to her that someone was speaking - a nearby voice, a cruel, smooth tone. She knew who it was, but who was it? Her consciousness would not allow her to access that part of her memory. The voice continued, rattling on about things she could not comprehend, and all she could do was listen as the tendrils fell away from her body.

“Are you coherent now? Nod if you understand.”

[Y/N] wasn’t sure what coherent meant, still seeing the tails of snakes in the corners of the room. She nodded anyways, breathing heavily against the soft fabric below her. It didn’t feel like her bed.

The other person hummed, a vague sound of disbelief. “If you could see yourself right now, you’d understand why I doubt your coherency very much. It’ll just be a few minutes now.”

None of their words quite held in her perforated headspace, just as they failed to before. She watched the bodies of reptiles creep about the floorboards, her eyes trailing behind each creature. One of them moved close to the bed, winding up the leg of a rustic-looking chair and across the lap of a long, thin man who sat with his ankle atop the opposite knee. The woman almost cried to see the snake disappear behind his figure, and desperately waited for it to return. They almost felt like friends now. She wondered what its name was.

How strange that something so sinister had become an emblem of consistency in her otherwise tumultuous life?

She ran her tongue around the cottony caverns of her mouth, staring just past Edward onto the ornate wallpaper behind him. Her voice was croaky as she spoke, “Am I allowed to ask why I’m here?”

He’d been reading a newspaper, which he folded carefully and placed on the bedside table. His hands clasped together, a quirky little grin etched onto his cheeks. “You may ask whatever you wish - you’re a guest in the mayor’s house, after all.”

[Y/N] narrowed her eyes, the wallpaper still holding her rapt attention. “Why am I here, then?”

“You’re on suicide watch, and the precinct no longer felt that they could care for you,” Ed started, idly checking his watch, “You should be thankful. This was the best alternative.”

She was quickly becoming annoyed, and made a move to sit up before realizing that she’d been strapped - on her stomach, spread-eagle - to the bed she lay on. This distracted her from his vague explanation, if only briefly. “Does the mayor normally let his guests be held captive by his employees?”

“You misunderstand - you’re technically being hospitalized.”

“Yes, because you are the best ‘medical professional’ to watch over a suicidal woman,” [Y/N] deadpanned, “What do you mean by alternative? Where else would I have gone? A real behavioral center? A real hospital?”

“Well, they did mean to send you to Arkham-”

“Arkham?” The female shrieked, lifting her upper body off the mattress to the best of her ability, “I’m not a fucking criminal, Nygma. They would never send me there. I’m not insane, either, unlike your sorry ass.”

Edward’s face cinched dangerously, and he uncrossed his legs, leaning closer to impose on [Y/N]’s space. “You’d do good to watch where you throw words like that - you just might hurt someone’s feelings,” He warned, “And if I remember correctly - you disrupted public peace, assaulted a police officer, and resisted arrest. This town cares little for the mentally unstable, and they’d think little of you as well.”

“You and I both know that’s not true. I want to see a lawyer. There’s no legal way for you to keep me here,” She rattled, grasping at straws that she knew would only be ripped away from her.

“No self-respecting lawyer in Gotham would represent you against the mayor,” Ed countered, “They think of him as a saint for sheltering a poor, suicidal woman rather than letting her rot in the asylum. They think of him as an advocate.”

Frantically, she looked for an argument - as if her fate wasn’t already sealed. Just as she was about to open her mouth, the head of a snake crawled out of his sleeve, its body extending gracefully to the bed. She was immediately entranced by the movement, watching intently as it moved towards her.

The reptile slithered up to her face, greeting [Y/N] with a familiar smile, and she smiled in return, her lips parting over her teeth. It responded by pushing past her gums, pressing down her throat until she swallowed it whole.

Edward watched in amazement as the woman before him choked and gagged on nothing, a deep chuckle rising up from his chest. “Ketamine is a hell of a drug, isn’t it? A perfectly safe tranquilizer - given that you don’t mind the hallucinations upon waking.” He reached forward to wipe the drool from the side of her cheek, and she visibly cringed away from him.

The female breathed heavily, tears welling up in her sinuses as she tried to recover. “You’re the fucking devil, Edward,” She droned, unable to find the energy needed to curse him out like she really wanted to.

#edward nygma x reader #edward nygma fanfiction #gotham fanfiction #dc fanfiction

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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

Text

HOSTIS, Chapter XIV: Errat, Mistake

Previous Chapter (XIII: Inferno)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): drama, comedy

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“you meet a pair of eyes that you can’t remember the last time you looked at without feeling like love was the only thing you knew”

birds chirping.

the sun that’s squeezing through your lids with the same amount of effort you’d need to squeeze a lime.

the warmth of a blanket.

the scent of a room that you’ve been in before... strangely smells a little like the hospital.

more birds chirping.

the blackness in your eyes behind your lids starts to brighten up, facial nerves struggling to pry open the windows to your soul and the ache in your eyes tells you that you were still tired.

there was a washroom just straight over the horizon of your sight, and the neurons in your head begin to create little bridges to link the familiar picture in your head.

it takes you awhile, but your eyes expand to the size of grapes when the object under your neck shifts, and you realise your face was literally stuck onto someone’s ches--

never in your life did sweat break out on your forehead so quickly, not even when you were doing experiments in school or even meeting new patients.

the sudden stirring and aggressive shifting on the bed wakes him up, and you land on your butt when you roll off the bed, the blanket wrapped around your body like a cocoon.

your face was a tad damp from the bodily contact it’s been in with; the shape of your cheek glaringly printed in pink on his left pectoral muscle.

your hand flies to your face and your brain struggles to piece the thoughts into words.

“oh my god--”

hyunjae rolls over to the side of the bed you fell off from, and he looks down at you with sleepy eyes and messy hair with one arm dangling off the side of the bed.

his bed.

“was it so necessary for you to take my blanket along with you when you fell into the depths of hell?”

the molars in your mouth grind against each other, putting your nerves on an edge from the friction. the warmth the blanket was providing you tells you that there was nothing between the material and your skin besides your lingerie, urging you to hold the blanket around yourself and stand up.

“i’d return it but i’ve got no fucking clue where my clothes are!”

his lids close again, a small smile of resignation lighting up his face for a split second.

“you say that as if there’s an inch of your body that i haven’t seen.”

a yawn.

“or touched.”

with one arm holding the blanket to your chest, you pull a pillow off from the head of his bed and slam it down on him, kicking the space of the mattress that his arm was dangling against.

he groans in frustration, burying his face into the space between his bicep and forearm, receiving every pillow hit like it was a tap on the shoulder.

“lee hyunjae, where are my clothes?”

the pillow gets recklessly thrown onto his back, the muscles on his lower back disappearing under it.

“if it’s not in this room then it’s somewhere in the kitchen inside laundry machine, but i do believe only your top is unavailable. your pants should still be in the study.”

frustrated grunts vibrate throughout your body as you walk off in search of your pants.

the memory sinks in, and you remember how spent you were just by having him inside you for more than half an hour the previous night. everything was such a blur because self-restraint and discipline is an art most humans have yet to master.

you did, but at the expense of your own energy.

the blouse you wore the day before, the one where he was so violent with the beloved ribbon around the neck rim but didn’t break a thread, was soaked and smelt like his detergent in the laundry machine.

the light pouring in from the backdoor glistens off the wetness of the material as you angrily wring it, hurling it back into the machine.

the warmth of the house and the morning light was heating your skin, the reflection off the back door exhibiting the version of you that looked like a whore you don’t even recognise.

here you were, strutting around in his house, with pants you wore the previous day and just a bra.

it was a natural instinct to head for your phone which was in your briefcase, and it was sitting on the sofa nearest to that stupid body-length mirror.

you sneer at the mirror, at your own reflection when you walk past it, and your phone lights up with only one message from your mother.

“wha-- can you please stop walking around in my house without a shirt and a horrible breath? you didn’t even bother to shower? unsightly.”

hyunjae comes down the stairs with wet hair, a blue dress shirt and black pants as his fingers were fiddling with his tie. the fresh scent of soap starts to waft through the air towards you with every step he takes, and yet your half naked reflection was still silently mocking you in that godforsaken mirror right next to you.

“who are you even calling? there’s no one back at your place and it’s not like you’re going home without a top,” he stops right before you and pushes your phone off your line of attention. “there’s a disposable toothbrush near the sink in the master toilet and i’ll see if i have any clothes that are... tight on me.”

show-off.

“and do whatever you need in the washroom best to your ability. i might not be able to fit into whatever i’m lending you but i sure as hell don’t want you dirtying it.”

motherfuc--

“now, get out of my face. you’ve been to my washroom how many times now? do you need a tour or a map? do you need me to get between your legs and--”

“no--” your palms fly up to your ears and you wisp past him, heading for the stairs and doing just as he says before he says anything else that could potentially ruin your morning even more.

the smell of him was so overwhelming in the shower. the shampoo and the body gel that mixed in the molecules and particles in the air was terrible nauseating, yet brought you immense warmth, even if it plainly physical for a moment.

the lukewarm water runs over your eyes, droplets of it wetting the stray hairs at behind your neck while the rest of your hair was tied up into a bun.

yet the only thing you saw when your eyes was shut was him cooking for you.

the way his shirt stuck to his back with sweat.

the way his hair clung to his forehead with immense focus not to under-cook a piece of bacon.

the way his pelvic bone vanishes under the cotton and leather of his belt and pants.

the feeling of your cheek pressed into the left side of his torso.

your eyes open and the tap gets turned off.

the dress shirt he offers you was so large that the base of it spanned to your thighs, almost your knees.

now you don’t just smell like him, you were wearing his clothes.

just what the fuck is happening?

his hair was combed and he looked ready to leave any minute when you return to the living room, shirt looking like pajamas on you over your jeans.

“i look like i’m going to sleep.”

hyunjae leans forward and grabs your arm over the material of the sleeve, pulling you in front of him as you stood between his knees. he was resting on the back of the sofa, so his eyes were easily lined with your collarbone where his little marks incited a little smile from him.

“don’t get too excited, i’m going to cover them up.”

he looks up at your face through his lashes, one of his brows perked on his brow bone when his fingers run down your arm. the contact shoves you out of your comfort zone, which was difficult to understand, but he grits his teeth and holds your wrist where the end of the sleeve was left hanging open.

“will you stop moving--”

he sucks on the teeth on his upper row, releasing a ‘tsk’ sound as he did it. the sleeve starts to fold and pulls on the folded layers to straighten them out.

the other sleeve receives the same treatment, and the lack of rampant hammering in your chest starts to alarm you. the focus he was offering his sleeves on you was so gentle, so undivided, you wonder for a moment if this is how his patients felt, if this was what it felt like to be taken care of.

taken care of by lee hyunjae.

the thoughts flying about in your head drowned your hold on reality so much that you don’t realise he’s done with your sleeves, and he yanks you forward by the rim of your pants instead of the belt hoops.

but that triggers your heart to start jumping again, now that his nose was right under your chin.

yet he doesn’t look up at you, only silently shoving the base of the shirt into your pants and flattening out all the creases sticking out.

he turns over his shoulder and fumbles through your briefcase, and he pulls out the peach colored lipstick you wore the previous day.

“give me tha--”

“no,” he slaps your hand away and holds both your wrists down over your stomach.

the click of the lipstick sounds when the cap comes off, and his brown orbs zoom in on the shape of your mouth as he draws on your lips.

sweat was beginning to make itself known in the heart of your palm, and even on your back that was probably starting to attract the shirt to your skin.

he pulls away with a look of satisfaction and caps on the lipstick, returning it back to your briefcase with his hand still around your wrists.

the shadow of ares looms over you as he stands up and turns you to face the mirror, his hands warm on your shoulders over the material of the dress shirt.

chills run through your body when his face lowers right next to yours on your left, and he locks eyes with you in the mirror.

he’s drawn the lipstick really well, and through the mirror, he starts tucking in bits and pieces of your hair into your bun to make it look neater.

“oh,” he coos into your ear, and his voice sounded so smooth and gentle, you were scared that he’s been possessed.

“my pretty, pretty doll.”

his eyes refuse to leave yours just as screams begin to erupt all around in your head like a sound system when yours are unable to find a way to peel themselves away too. his lips land on your neck where he’s pulled enough material for him to create one fresh mark, the gentle pressure into his mouth causes a strain in your face.

“you can leave the top button open and nobody would be able to see the marks, so i’ve essentially saved you the trouble of coating your neck in make up.”

every muscle in your system fails to recognise a method to relax, even after he’s released you.

“are we going or do you want to be late for work and get yourself fired just after... what? four weeks of work?”

his back turns on you and light floods into the house just as he opens the front door, leaving you with literally no other choice but to pick up your briefcase and tail him.

how do you describe the feeling in your stomach when you sit in silence in the car with someone you hate?

the sky was filled with fluffy clouds and you saw more dogs along the way to the hospital than usual. every now and then the smell of his shirt and the body gel you used on yourself buries itself into your nostrils.

his parking ritual sets itself in stone in your bones, and you start to debate with yourself if he’s doing it without knowing it’s having an effect on you or that this was his normal routine. but before he fixes all the gear, you get the door open.

“where are you--”

“i’m going up first. i don’t want to be seen with you.”

he scoffs and rolls his eyes before looking at you with wide, gleaming eyes.

“you’re learning!”

“ha,” the warmth of the car park engulfs you when you step out, but you bend over a little to look him in the eye through the passenger’s seat. “i guess we’re both learning new things every day.”

the expression on his face falls as you slam the door shut, and you don’t bother looking back over your shoulder as you crossed the road to get to the lift lobby.

you settled in your office with the classical music running in the background, and you see hyunjae’s legs stride the length of your office before he steps into his.

the screen of your computer lights up and an email flies in almost immediately.

from: choi young joon

to: the neuro-research dept

subject: head of research amendments

dear all,

it is my regret to inform you that doctor kim ryuk hoon has been relieved of his duties as of this email thus forth.

doctor min han seok, the senior research doctor will be taking over doctor kim ryuk hoon’s duties as of this email thus forth.

doctor kim ryuk hoon has been with us for 43 years, so if you have the chance to wish him well on his journey into retirement, i’m sure he will greatly appreciate it.

regards,

choi young joon

the shuffle in the next office steals your attention away from the screen, and you watch through the transparent glass below the frosted area as he stands up.

there was a lack of movement, and his feet were so perfectly aligned with each other, it could’ve looked like he was a mannequin in his own office.

but you were aware of what he could be thinking. tons of reasons for doctor kim’s relief was definitely zipping through his head, because there was absolutely no reason for the hospital, or doctor choi, to force him into retirement or relieve him of his duties all of a sudden like this.

none.

the screen was calling out to you again, but hyunjae steals it once more when he finally moves. the glass door of his office swings open, cuing you to get up and follow, not bothering about the music still playing on your stereo.

you find yourself staring at your phone with about an hour left before you needed to go on your rounds, yet you were standing next to hyunjae, waiting for the lift, wanting to go to the north wing.

by the time the both of you arrived at the neuro-research department, doctor kim was gone from his cubicle, with only some larger files left in the space where a doctor min han seok was shifting his belongings to now.

eric was carrying some boxes of stationery when he saw you, and a small, almost pained, smile stretches itself across his lips.

“where’s doctor kim?” hyunjae walks over and whispers to eric directly, though you were sure doctor min wasn’t deaf.

“he... uh--”

“doctor kim made a mistake with the system and he accidentally leaked patient information onto a public database. luckily someone from the IT sector discovered the breach and figured it out quickly,” doctor min butts in without taking his attention away from his new desk.

“but if it was so easily recovered then why was he... what? fired? forced into retirement?” hyunjae looked so defensive, you would’ve mistaken him for doctor kim’s son or something.

“that was doctor kim’s call, not anybody else’s.”

a painful silence.

“the two of you will be free from neuro-research work today, i’ll have mr son help me with settling in and taking over so i’ll see you tomorrow onwards. i do believe you have rounds to go on soon, no?”

hyunjae was leaning on the cubicle partition, so when he pulls away and stands up straight, he looked like he was about to punch someone in the face.

but you remember that he was more professional than he looked, and a polite smile flits across his face for a few seconds for doctor min to see.

“i understand, thank you for taking up the responsibility. i look forward to working with you,” he extends a palm out for doctor min, who shakes it with a look of impress on his face.

he shakes yours too when you offer your hand, and hyunjae turns on his heels to leave with eric flashes you a look of worry.

the rest of the day goes on as per usual with your rounds and patient record-checking, yet every single second you spent not on your rounds or patient record-checking you were thinking about doctor kim.

it was a small error, but doctor choi must’ve decided to use this opportunity to protect doctor kim from living his last days in a hospital. he wasn’t anywhere near death, yet doctor choi must’ve been so dedicated to treating him like a parent that he wanted doctor kim to rest after 43 years in the same hospital.

but how horrid doctor kim must be feeling, to be forced into retirement so much earlier than intended.

how guilty doctor choi must be feeling, to force his mentor out of the hospital despite knowing how much he enjoyed working here.

your rounds ended on time today, and hyunjae wasn’t anywhere to be found when you were back in your office.

finally some time away from this man, ugh.

you search through some hospital database, searching for doctor kim’s information which you prayed it hadn’t been taken down.

voila.

you clock out and head opposite the road to get two servings of your favourite chowder, buying some health products and flowers while waiting for the food to be done.

a cab was hailed, and you decided that this was going to be a routine.

the house the cab stopped at looked somewhat like hyunjae’s, though it was definitely smaller. hyunjae’s house had a porch and a front yard, but doctor kim’s had a whole garden right out the door.

if you didn’t know someone lived here, you would’ve.

the walls of the house was a gentle shade of yellow and the roof was navy blue. every window was lit up and it tells you that he was home.

you pay the cab driver and carefully hold all your items in hand as he drives off. the warmth of the house calls out to you, and you think about what to say when you see doctor kim.

your knuckles meet the wood of the door and you hear some shuffling that gets louder towards it, so you stand back to greet the man who got the door open.

yet you meet a pair of eyes that you can’t remember the last time you looked at without feeling like love was the only thing you knew.

or at least, the definition of love to you at that point of time.

the flowers get a tighter grip and a still, surprised silence falls between the two of you, the name of the face who was taken from your life already in your head, but finding difficulty in escaping through your throat.

your heart stops and your lips part, eyes quivering when those orbs sink into your skin.

with an immense amount of effort and the undying need to finally say something, the words come out sounding like you were wheezing, like you were whispering because you were afraid someone was going to hear you.

“...younghoon?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter XV: Vetus Flamma

#hyunjae #the boyz hyunjae #lee hyunjae #the boyz fanfic #the boyz #timetohajima

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haberdashing · 3 years ago

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open your eyes (i see your eyes are open) (4/?)

Jon, faced with being the last one left in a dying world, sends his memories back in time to someone who might be able to fix things before the worst can happen.

Sasha James, for her part, is very confused.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

on AO3

The visit to Artefact Storage was nice, but just like when she’d been reassigned, Sasha was only too happy to get out of there and head to the Archives, though she knew well enough now that the latter was plenty dangerous in its own right. At least she knew what to expect from the Archives. At least the Archives weren’t literally paying her to test out horrible, unpredictable things...

...no, that was Jon’s job now, wasn’t it? Elias had chosen him, the Web had chosen him, and now he was the Archivist, and he was going to be put through things much worse than anything Artefact Storage had to offer...

Sasha had started this train of thought in the hopes of reassuring herself, but instead, as she entered the Archives, she just felt a little queasy as she thought of what lay in store in Jon’s future.

Or what would lay in store in Jon’s future, anyway. Things wouldn’t be so bad this time around, not if Sasha had a say in it.

Jon was already in the Archives, perched over Tim’s desk as the two spoke about something, and Sasha was struck by the sight of him. He looked so different than he had in his final days before, and not just because his skin was free of scars--his hair was short and much less gray than before, he was still wearing a suit of all things rather than the hodgepodge of outfits he’d rummaged through as his professional mask slipped and his options grew slimmer...

...and, as Jon turned her way, Sasha could see his eyes focus on her, and though his gaze was still dark and meaningful, there wasn’t the same weight to it, the same sense of the universe itself staring back out of those deep eyes.

(She still felt like she was being watched, but that was only to be expected now, wasn’t it?)

“Good to see you, Sasha.” Jon shot her a quick nod. “I was just briefing Tim on his next project--you’re still working on the Hodgson file, correct?”

God, that felt like ages ago, though Jon had only given Sasha that assignment last Thursday. The Hodgson file wasn’t even one of the real ones, just somebody who’d gotten drunk and mistook what was probably a plane for an alien vessel, though Sasha was struggling to recall all the details at the moment. “Right, yeah, I was, er, having trouble looking up the relevant flight patterns, I believe it was? But I’ll keep trying, of course, so-”

Jon looked over Sasha again, and his gaze softened slightly. “Are you feeling alright? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine, I... it’s just, um...” ...hell, she was struggling to come up with an excuse, so why even bother? She wanted to tell Jon about what she’d learned eventually, and perhaps now was as good a time as any. “Actually, could we talk in your office? When you’re done with Tim, I mean, I don’t mean to rush you.”

“I think we’re done here already.” There was a flat tone to Tim’s voice that set Sasha on edge--had he and Jon been arguing, perhaps?

“Oh, yes, we’ve covered pretty much everything I wanted to discuss at this point, so.” Jon rapped twice on Tim’s desk with a slender fist, a gesture Sasha had never seen him use before his promotion but had already encountered several times since. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Sounds like a plan, boss.” Tim’s voice had a bit more energy to it now, and as she walked with Jon to his office, Sasha saw him shoot her a wry grin.

Sasha closed the door behind her and took a seat as Jon got settled.

“What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Well...”

That feeling of being watched that permeated the Institute was making the hairs on the back of Sasha’s neck stand up, and she knew it wasn’t just because Jon was looking at her with an expression somewhere between curious and impatient.

What were the odds that Elias- that Jonah Magnus was watching them right now? Probably not great, really, he did have an actual job besides just spying on his employees, but he certainly could be watching. Was thinking about it that much more likely to make it happen, drawing his attention to her thoughts? God, it was hard to know, wasn’t it? And that was the problem, being caught up with knowing and not knowing...

“Now that you’re the head archivist here, it’s your job to hear when the general public’s encountered something supernatural, right?”

“If it’s in a statement given to us, yes, but those are usually made by liars and the mentally unwell.”

Sasha did her best to drum up a smile. “Good thing this isn’t a statement, then, right?”

It could be a formal statement, probably, but Sasha didn’t want that, not when anybody with access to their archives could read it afterwards, not when there was information she now knew that could prevent the literal end of the world if the right people acted upon it.

A soft sigh, more perfunctory than anything. Jon was trying to play the grump again, but Sasha was pretty sure she could see through it even without everything she now knew about Jon masking his true feelings. “Where are you going with this, Sasha?”

“This weekend, my mind just- just filled with a ton of information suddenly. Info about you, about the other assistants, about the supernatural, about a little bit of everything really. Things I should have no way of knowing, but now I do. I figured you ought to know--could come in handy down the line.”

“Do you have any proof of this?” Jon tilted his head to one side slightly. “Something you shouldn’t know about me, perhaps--and not just from hacking, either?”

Sasha thought about arguing the point about hacking with Jon, but honestly, it was fair enough that she be called on it. Instead, she just nodded and took a deep breath--not that she really needed the extra air for what she was going to say, but because it felt right, and who was she to deny the moment that extra bit of dramatic flair?

“Mister Spider wants more.”

Jon’s face went pale in an instant, his gaze unfocusing as he seemed to look more through Sasha than at her.

“Jon?”

Jon didn’t respond.

“Jon, it’s okay!” Sasha rapped gently on his desk. “It’s just me. It’s not... it’s not that.”

Jon blinked rapidly a few times before shaking his head.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine.” Jon was clearly not fine, as his hands were shaking slightly and his face still didn’t have its full color back, but Sasha wasn’t going to argue the point. “But I- I’ve never told anybody about that, how did you-”

“I told you. Weird supernatural information shoved into my head over the weekend. Simple as that.”

“Right. You- you weren’t making that up, then.”

It wasn’t really a question, but Sasha answered just the same. “Of course not. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Jon looked unconvinced, and Sasha suddenly remembered how when “Antonio Blake”’s statement had appeared, Jon had thought only Tim could be trusted to investigate it, only Tim could be ruled out for having written it as a practical joke on his new boss--that felt like an eternity ago, and yet it hadn’t even happened yet...

“You said you didn’t want to give a formal statement, correct? Was there any other action you expected from me regarding this?”

Sasha shrugged. She still wasn’t sure how much she could share, especially here, in the belly of the beast. Maybe in the tunnels, some time... assuming there still were tunnels, and they weren’t being plagued by worms or Not-Thems or murderous Jurgen Leitners...

“I just wanted you to know about it, mostly. I know a lot about these old archives now, so if you’ve ever got a question, I’m glad to do what I can. Not that I wouldn’t be willing to help anyway, but, you know, if I already know the location and validity of statement number 0051701, or whatever, might as well use it, right?”

Jon squinted a little. “What is statement number 0051701?”

“Oh, it’s...” Sasha let out a soft giggle. “We haven’t gone over it yet, but it’s about an old calliope organ.”

“Kuh-LY-o-pee.” Jon corrected.

“Ka-lee-O-pee.” Sasha repeated, a grin growing on her face. “Though there’s really no one correct pronunciation, or so I’ve heard.”

“...right. Well, thank you for letting me know about all this, I suppose.”

“Of course. You are the boss around here, right?”

“As Tim keeps reminding me, yes.”

Sasha stood back up and cracked open Jon’s office door, but before she left entirely, she added, “Seriously, reach out if you need me- or any of us, really. It’s not healthy to spend too long cooped up in here by yourself.”

“Duly noted.”

As the door closed behind Sasha, she could only hope that she was doing enough, that her offers to help would be taken advantage of when Jon needed it most.

#tma #tma au #tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives au #the magnus archives fic #the magnus archives fanfic #personal #my writing

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babieyangyang10 · 4 years ago

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violent ends (chapter 12)

(chapter 12)

series masterlist

genre: hunger games!au

pairings: huang renjun x oc, na jaemin x oc

warnings: lots of kissing, mentions of killing, description of injuries

previous | next

Athena's POV

It took a while for Jisung's quiet sniffles to fade the night of Chenle's death. By the time Mark and I had made our way back, Jaemin and Jisung had found out the news after they saw his face among the dead in the sky. Honestly, it was almost easier for Jisung to find out that way. I know Mark was in too much pain to tell him. As for me, I don't know how I could bare to look him in those innocent eyes and tell him either. As expected, he took it pretty hard. I mean, he was his best friend. He literally cried so much, that he eventually became exhausted and fell asleep.

I took the first watch, since Mark looked like he needed rest as well. The only other person who was still up was Na Jaemin.

"What are you thinking about?" Just like when we were alone in the first days, his head was resting on my lap.

"Jeno, Renjun, and the District 5 girl are the only ones left other than us." I point out.

Focusing on the positives, he replies, "Okay, well I'm guessing they'll go after her for us, since she's alone. Hopefully, they'll kill each-other. If not, we'll do it."

My voice was in a small whisper, "And then?"

He's silent.

I know District 2 is watching me right now. The same district that attachment is only necessary when it pertains to something you need. Once you have gotten what you've needed, you have to detach yourself. Almost like how a leech sucks enough blood until their fulfilled, then falls off on their own free will.

These people have given me my fill. Mark and Jisung took Jaemin and I in, even after Jaemin was injured. However, now we are both healthy as can be. As they sleep in front of me, what is stopping us from running away or even just killing them? Friends. Something I never had before. I never understood it until now. How it means that even though I'm full, I feel obligated to them too. To give just as much as they gave me.

But they are right. This is what they warned us about. This obligation will keep me captive. Let's say that we do all make it to the end together. Even so, the games will continue until a single victor. It happens every time.

The longest was the 25th games, it lasted for a total of twenty-seven days. This year the Districts had chosen the children of their mayors. Because of growing up wealthy and sheltered, none of the kids knew anything about fighting.

So they didn't. Half of them were wiped out by vicious mutations on the third day, then eventually others by starvation. However, the Gamemakers had a twist this year. Instead of the parachutes sending things to help and aid you, they sent down things like tracker jackers and acidic rain. No longer did the tributes have to survive eachother, but instead the sponsors.

Three weeks later, only two managed to do this: a brother and sister from District 9. Hopeless and broken, they decided to draw straws to see who would survive and win. The brother ended up getting the short one and gave his sister a kiss on the cheek before she stabbed him to death.

This just proves no matter how much you care for the other survivors, the Capitol won't give up until you kill the other.

The long silence was interrupted, "You know you're my priority. Ever since the beginning, only you."

"You know what I'm saying, what I'll do if I need to." Jaemin whispers sincerely, "I know you wouldn't like it, but we promised it would be me and you in the end, right?"

I knew exactly what he was alluding to. It doesn't matter if it's Mark or Jisung, he would kill anyone so we'd survive.

"I know." I speak even through the lump in my throat. There's no point in pretending or acting like things could never possibly come to that. I mean, it's not like the games are a place where you make friends.

Jaemin is sensitive to my discomfort, "Hopefully, it won't come to that, okay?"

All I could do was respond with a nod. Let's hope it doesn't.

It's almost natural the way I once again played with his hair to calm down. I noticed that since we've been separated, time had caused his nearly-black roots to appear, fading nicely into the frosty blonde. His eyes were more sunken in and tired, but still held the same old light as he peered up at me with interest, "You really have no shame, Athena."

"What do you mean?" I tease, playing innocent like I wasn't obviously checking out the beautiful boy just seconds earlier.

Then, in a burst of affection, the boy literally almost tackles me. My elbows brace myself up on the ground, as he leans over me. Alarmed, I turn my head to see the boys fast asleep, a good distance away.

When I look back at Jaemin, I feel my head start to buzz. It's seems like so long since I've been this close to someone. A someone who is somewhere far away in this arena. Someone, who in was in this same position with the night before I came here. In a soft voice, Jaemin's voice brings me back to the present, to him.

"Please."

Not long after I nod, I feel his lips softly brush over mine. Almost as if he's testing the waters. The kiss that follows is soft and delicate, yet brief. It's like I'm a piece of glass, that he is trying his best not to break. When, he backs away to see my reaction, I nearly chase after his lips. He just laughs to himself at the display of eagerness. I move back, so I'm entirely laying on the grass.

I try to be patient, not wanting to overstep our boundaries. However, when he looks down at me with absolute adoration, I didn't stop myself from grabbing his shirt with both my hands. Once I pulled him down into an bruising kiss, I could hear him let out a content sigh.

I get lost and entirely forget where I am. Instead of in an arena, it just feels like we're two young teenagers making out under the stars. It feels normal and completely right. Out of breath, he is now laying on top of me. My mouth is open in awe, while I marvel at the feeling. Relaxing, I could feel Jaemin smiling into my neck. Even in the dark, I know the cameras can see me also smiling like a fool to the sky.

After that, Jaemin decided to take his watch and let me sleep. It was the first peaceful sleep I have had until forever. That was, of course, until a young boy named Park Jisung ruined it.

"We need water!" Beside me was a knocked out, Jaemin. He was leaning against a tree, while my head was leaning against his shoulder.

"Okay, fine. Just shush." I was trying to be wary of Jaemin, who stayed up for both of our watches.

Grabbing my stuff, I say a brief goodbye to Mark. Jisung happily follows me like a little puppy, probably glad to finally get out of the camp again.

The fresh sun illuminates the water of the lake. Birds are singing good morning to one another. I hand my bag to Jisung, as I take out my bottle. The tiny fish quickly swim away as I fill Mark and I's bottles up with water.

I feel a tug on my leather jacket.

"Athena." Jisung was pale, looking behind me.

My head snapped around to automatically meet eyes with Lee Jeno. Across the lake, he had just arrived with Renjun.

I don't waste any time before grabbing Jisung and running into the woods behind me. However, we could only get a small distance before Jisung fell to the ground, clutching his bad leg, "I can't."

"You can. Come on." I tried to hold him up like I did during the forest fire. I could hear the two Careers just around the corner.

"I'll slow you down." Jisung begged, "You gotta go without me."

Not even having it, I grabbed him and sat him down behind a nearby bush. Since the bush was fairly small, I had to go to the only other one across the clearing.

"Let's split up." I hear nearby.

Through a gap in the branches, I see Lee Jeno come around the corner. My heart pounds with each of his steps. Jeno gets closer and closer the bush Jisung is hiding behind. I violently curse in my head as I realized Jisung was carrying my backpack with all of my weapons in it.

I guess we're gonna have to do this a different way.

I dart out of my bush and begin running in the opposite direction of camp. That way, Jisung could hopefully make it back undetected to get help.

I don't look back at all. I just keep running until I get back to the lake. Before I can change direction, I feel someone jump on me.

Crashing down, the side of my head collides with a large boulder. At first, it's completely numb and I'm able to push the tall boy off of me.

However, once I push myself up, I start to see black and fall back to the ground.

"Hey, I got her!" Jeno yelled out to Renjun.

"We've been looking for you, pretty girl." His arms have mine completely pinned to the dirt. The more I struggle against him, the more the white dots fill up my vision.

Renjun's POV

When I run towards Jeno's voice, I eventually found the two of them.

Jeno was holding the small girl. Lee Athena's face was as white as a sheet. Blood was pouring out of her head, falling in thick drops down the side of her face. I couldn't even tell if she was even conscious at this point.

She was completely limp as the boy sat her up on her knees, "Why don't you finish her off?"

"Look who came to join us." He cooed, grabbing her hair to make her look up at me.

Her half-lidded eyes recognized me right away. Although, there wasn't any signs of fear or sadness for what she knew was about to happen to her. She almost looked like she was challenging me. You wouldn't.

Would I?

"Do it." Jeno urged me. Her chin was tilted back by his hold on her hair, neck entirely on display. My hand was tightly wrapped around the familiar blade in my hands.

I tried to quickly come up with an excuse for my next actions in my head. I mean it would have to happen eventually. At least, it would be somewhat quick.

Then, I did it.

#nct dream smut #nct smut #nct au #nct #nct dream imagines #nct dream #renjun #jaemin #jeno #haechan #jisung

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jjonyangdan · 5 years ago

Note

A short and fluffy friends to lovers scenario with keonhee Pls 💖

[ oneus / lee keonhee ] ; fluff | friends to lovers + college au | 1.7k words

↪ he takes you out on a picnic day in the spring and it leads to the unexpected disclosure of hidden feelings for one another.

↪ a/n: thank you for requesting! i hope this meet your expectations? 💚

“This is probably one of the best ideas you’ve come up with yet.”

Spread out on the grassy floor is a snowy-white blanket pinned down by a straw basket and the bottoms of two individuals to prevent it from being dragged away by the currents of the calm wind. Strewn before them are various food items ranging from simple snacks, fruit and sandwiches as well as small cartons of different flavoured milk in order to quench their throats. They sit underneath a towering, blossoming cherry-blossom tree that every so often sprinkles them with its petals as the sunlight slants through its gaps as if asking if it could join the activity as well.

“Huh? What do you mean by that?” Keonhee responds, bemused, before following with an offended scoff. There’s a halfhearted grumble in his tone as he shoots you a look of playful disbelief. He sorts out the placement of the items before him and adds, “My ideas are always the best, just like this one, so I have no idea what you’re going on about. I think I should be given more credit, don’t you think?” Pride douses his voice, satisfied hums vibrating past his curved lips and floating in the air.

“Mhm. Definitely. That’s why I complimented you before,” you return with a smile dancing on your lips before bending forward to pick up a chocolate-chip cookie. Tearing it open from its plastic wrap, you instantly sink your teeth into its dough and break out into an even wider grin as its flavour pervades your senses. “Thank you, Keonhee. And you even included my favourites here! You’re seriously the best~” As you send adulations his way, you also throw your arms around his lean stature, draping your limbs over his shoulders and resting your weight affectionately on him.

“Yah, (Name), you’re heavy!” he whines, but nonetheless doesn’t move to peel you away from him. “And of course. This is all for you.” The last part is uttered in a soft whisper that escapes your ears.

There’s a soft smile decorating his features at the sight of you nestled against him, one that’s loving but with a frail edge to it that you’re unable to detect with your eyes closed and your head buried into his side. However you can hear him mumble, content phrases about how well everything was panning out, as you sense his movement and listen to the rustle of clothing that is probably him reaching out for a snack himself to nibble on.

Your chest is tickled by a lightness, eyes peeking open to see that he has his head is incredibly near yours. Time seems to freeze for you in that moment, as you shakily pursue his movements with your eyes. It seems his intention is to share a bite of the cookie you’re holding in your other hand that’s hanging between you both. Red brushes your cheeks and you struggle to formulate a collected reaction.

“Y-yah! You’re getting crumbs on me, Keonhee!” you complain, peeling yourself away from him. You allow him to take custody of what remains of the treat, dusting your attire down to rid yourself of the miniscule particles. “You could have just asked if you wanted some or just reached out for another one.” You ruffle your hair as if it’d help cool the heat warming your cheeks. “It’s not even that far, your long limbs could easily reach it!”

“Well, it’s difficult when you’re holding me down like that,” he just as defensively counters with a dash of childishness to his voice. Even so there’s a smile prominent in his voice as he softly adds, “and plus, you looked comfortable. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

As much you want to retaliate with: ‘and you think just suddenly placing your head near mine like that where I can practically feel your breath fanning my cheeks and inhale your faint cologne wouldn’t agitate me in any shape or form?!’, you restrain the urge to do so and deeply exhale. He most likely wouldn’t even understand where you were coming from. These types of interactions were common between you, even if it did make your heart want to burst out of its cage. And you sometimes can’t help but wonder, did he at least remotely feel the same as you? You couldn’t be the only one, right?

Keonhee reaches past you for a drink, fingers curling around a carton and piercing a straw into the designated slot as he takes a long, peaceful sip. You watch him doing so, a faraway look glossing your eyes as you drown in the deep sea of your thoughts. He takes notice, staring back at you curiously. “Do you want some?” His question is faintly muffled by the straw he’s chewing on before he offers the drink to you with a tilt to his head, misinterpreting your stance.

Snapping out of your trance, you sigh before mumbling the standard phrase of gratitude before accepting the carton. As the sweetness of the beverage contacts your papillae on your tongue, you realise something and your (e/c) hues blink quizzically. You steal a glance at him and then back at the drink, repeating this back and forth a couple of times. This eventually catches his attention, as he helps himself to another biscuit.

“What’s wrong? You’re all jittery.”

“I...”

“Hm?”

“Y-your lips…”

“My what?”

Your cheeks still burn as your mind keeps framing the particular scene in your memory. An indirect kiss—yours and Keonhee’s lips sharing the same straw. Usually you’re not one to fret over such details, but ever since you’ve been aware of him everything within you has changed. You’re more sensitive to every little thing he does and it’s annoying, but also joyous—very bittersweet.

“You look like a tomato right now!” he points out.

“Tell me something I don’t know…” you mutter in response, fanning yourself.

He tilts his head. “...Are you perhaps thinking about us sharing the same straw?” Your face grows hotter at his guess and he notices, knowing for certain he’s hit the bullseye. “Really? I never thought you’d be the type to worry about stuff like this,” he remarks. His lips soon tug up into a teasing smirk as he raises a brow at you. “We’ve always shared drinks and food together. Why be bashful about it now?”

You’re quick to defend yourself, an exasperated look crossing your features, “it’s called being in love, Keonhee! Everything to do with that person starts to—” A pause of silence falls between you like a curtain. Your expression freezes in horror, mouth agape. Did you just? No way. You didn’t just inadvertently confess to him, did you?

“Starts to what?” His playful grin widens as he shifts closer to you. “You’re in love with me?”

“I-I…” you stammer, thoughts muddled in your head and impairing your ability to articulate anything.

He giggles, looking at you fondly. “You’re cute.”

“What did you say…?” You blink, staring up at him. As your heart skips in your chest, you feel a sensation caressing your hand and look down to see he has covered it with his larger one.

“Do you remember that I told you I also had something to tell you today?” he dodges your question with one of his own. He has the softest eyes and most tender smile right now, and all of it is on display for your eyes to appreciate.

“H-huh? Yeah, I do.” You nod, briefly recalling the conversation you had on the phone with him. He had called you to see if you were available to join him on a day to the local park where the cherry blossoms were in full bloom, located near your college campus. In addition to wanting to show you the fully bloomed flowers, he had stated he also needed to tell you something important but wouldn’t offer any hints despite your pleas. “Why so suddenly?”

“I like you.” It’s blunt and void of any doubt. He’s very much serious, his eyes peering deeply into your own as his cheeks are painted a shade of shyness and his lips are curled into a soft smile.

“You what…?” All you can manage to respond with is a dumbfounded expression. You take a moment to question your ears, brain and sanity. Did you hear him correctly? Your ears weren’t deceiving you, right? He really did just tell you he liked you back?

“You’re seriously making me repeat myself?” he whines, bashful, but is nevertheless smiling as he reiterates his confession though he knows you must’ve heard him already. “I like you, (Name). Please go out with me.”

“For how long...?”

“A while now. I just struggled to find the right moment.”

“I... I still can’t believe it…”

“Huh? Why not?”

“I don’t know… it’s just…” you trail off, unable to explain your thoughts.

Then there’s a sensation tickling your forehead. It takes a minute to register, but you’re definitely sure he blessed your head with a brief yet sweet kiss.

“How’s that? Can you believe it now?” he asks, smiling endearingly at you.

“Mhm. Maybe a kiss on the lips would do the trick,” you suggest, a mischievous glint in your eye as the confidence within you crawls to the surface.

“Ooo. How assertive of you.” He laughs gently and leans in closer, hand hovering near your shoulder. “You haven’t given me an answer though,” he pouts and sends you a puppy-like stare, “I might grant you your wish depending on what you say~”

You roll your eyes, but smile giddily at him. “I like you as well, Keonhee. A lot. I’d love to go out with you.” Drawing closer, the distance between you is further diminished, your faces are inches apart. “Can I have that kiss now?”

“I didn’t know you could be so needy,” he teases, a whisper against your mouth. “But you’re still cute like this.”

Slowly he closes the remaining space, lips moving smoothly against yours as your eyes flutter shut. His hand behind you grips your shoulder tenderly, his other hand that remains atop yours drawing soothing circles on the back of your palm. As you both pull away from the sweet connection, he rests his forehead against yours, your eyes reflecting the same attraction you both hold for each other. You can feel the smiles that blooms on your features and underneath the warm weather and pink petals, share another kiss as you mark the beginning of the development of your relationship amid the season of awakening.

#oneus #oneus scenarios #oneus imagines #oneus keonhee #lee keonhee #keonhee scenarios #keonhee imagines #keonhee fluff #oneus fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fluff

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linebreaker · 5 years ago

Text

Starlight

Also on AO3.

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“So, this is it,” Crowley said, gesturing with a wide sweep of his arm as the flat door snicked shut behind them. The latch was firmly reconnected and he hinges undamaged.

Thanks for that, Adam Young, he thought with a lift of his eyebrow. I hope you also cleaned up the mess-that-was-Ligur in my sitting room.

The corner of Aziraphale’s mouth tilted up. “You know I’ve been to your flat before?” His face was smudged with dirt, his hair in disarray, and he looked soft and beautifully relieved. Crowley’s heart gave a squeeze.

“Have you?” he asked faintly, trying to recall.

Aziraphale hummed an affirmation, but folded his hands behind his back and started a slow self-guided tour. Crowley watched him retreat, then he removed his glasses and carefully tucked them into an inner pocket of his jacket. Running a thumb along his lapel found singed edges there, small curls of thread and fabric yielding beneath his fingers. A glance in the nearby mirror confirmed a smoky face and hair, but he had neither the energy nor the inclination to miracle himself clean at the moment. He followed after Aziraphale.

Crowley found him in his sitting room, examining his extravagant chair. The angel was running a finger over the ornate crest at the top, expression curious. He looked over as Crowley entered.

“I’d actually managed to forget about this monstrosity,” he said with a smirk.

“Rude,” Crowley uttered half-heartedly.

“You have dramatic tastes, my dear.”

“Well, I take that as a compliment,” Crowley said, his voice gone all haughty with mock disdain.

Aziraphale huffed out a laugh, ducking his head briefly. When he looked back up, his eyes were bright and his smile was curling like a small, secret thing across his face. “I would expect nothing less.”

Crowley’s heart throbbed.

He scoffed, then made his way over to his sun room. Relief suffused his chest as he stepped through the rotating door and stood in the warm air, surrounded by his plants. Drawing in a deep breath, he was able to smell the damp potting soil, the fertilizer, and the subtle electric charge of fear.

He bared his teeth in a grin. “Hello, dearies! Hope no one’s been misbehaving while I’ve been gone.”

The plants all rippled with apprehension.

“Oh, leave them be!” Aziraphale called through the doorway. His footsteps told Crowley that he was moving in his direction.

“Ngh. He’s no fun,” Crowley told the nearby mammy croton conspiratorially. Its glossy, variegated leaves trembled once, then went still.

Crowley heard Aziraphale join him in the room and glanced over his shoulder. There was a planter of hanging epipremnum aureum in the windowsill, and the angel had one of its bright green tendrils twined around his finger like a tiny snake. “They’re all looking quite lovely,” he said. “What’s this one called again?”

“Devil’s ivy.”

Aziraphale laughed and gave the leaves a gentle stroke before disentangling himself. He turned back to Crowley with a smile. “Of course.”

Crowley regarded him across the short distance, tension thrumming beneath his skin like static electricity. Aziraphale just watched him, his edges made soft in the low light.

“When were you here last?” Crowley finally asked, genuinely befuddled.

“Oh, I’d say it was back in . . .” Aziraphale trailed off as he considered, clasping his hands before him. His forehead wrinkled and his foot tapped an erratic pattern on Crowley’s stone floor. “Well, um—Oh! It must have been around 1990, I believe? Tim Berners-Lee.”

The fog in Crowley’s mind cleared somewhat, his mouth turning up in a grin. “Right! The world wide web. I think we both took credit for that, didn’t we?”

“Indeed, we did,” Aziraphale said with a fond smile.

“Why don’t I remember that better? It wasn’t that long ago.”

“Ah, that was probably to do with the bottles of 1975 Vintage Port that we celebrated with,” Aziraphale admitted, his smile a little sheepish.

“Oh, yeah.”

They lapsed into silence. Crowley let himself drift on not-so-distant memories—the caramel-sweet tang of the port and Aziraphale’s too-kind smile. The soft rustle of his plants was all around him. His angel was here, warm and real and alive. The Armageddon had, somehow, slipped by them.

He felt safe.

Crowley wasn’t sure how long he stood there before Aziraphale’s gentle voice broke through his reverie. He sounded hesitant as he said, “You seemed rather upset.”

“Hm? Uh, well,” he said, stammering a little. “I can’t really remember, but I thought we had been celebrating. Sorry if I was a bit maudlin at the time. I think Tiananmen Square stuck with me longer than—”

Aziraphale hastily interrupted him, flapping his hands at him. “No, no, my dear. I, um—Well, I meant earlier today. In the bar.”

Crowley blinked. “Oh.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale clasped his hands together and twiddled his thumbs against one another. “I was just—um. Just curious, I suppose.”

They stared at one another. Crowley could feel his heart pounding in his throat and he swallowed compulsively. “Yeah. I was a little upset.” He tilted his head and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’d lost my best friend.”

Aziraphale gave him a wobbly smile and said in a hushed voice, “You didn’t lose me, dear.” Crowley’s stomach flipped.

There was an anxious energy clattering along his ribs and squeezing the air from his lungs. “I—uh,” he stammered, his throat clicking as he gulped. His voice sounded faint and raspy, even to his own ears. “I thought the—the fire in your bookshop. I thought it was Infernal. I thought you . . .”

I thought you were gone for good.

The smile slipped from Aziraphale’s face, horror creeping into his eyes. “Oh, my dear—”

“Do you know that I helped create the stars?” Crowley asked suddenly and Aziraphale blinked. “I can’t remember if I ever told you that?”

“No,” he said faintly. A lovely little crease formed between his brows.

“Yeah. Back when I was an angel, I helped to create galaxies—formed them in my hands.” Crowley’s fingers twitched in muscle memory, recalling the millennia he’d spent holding the beating hearts of stars between his palms. Through the dark window behind Aziraphale, the night sky called to him.

Aziraphale’s face was puzzled, but he said in a small voice, “You did a beautiful job.” A tiny smile pulled at Crowley’s mouth, warmth suffusing him.

“You know, I can feel it,” he murmured, glancing away, “when a star I created dies. It sort of—um.”

Aziraphale remained silent as he struggled to come up with the words to describe the feeling—the weight of his chest caving in, collapsing in on itself, the darkness rushing in to fill the void where light had once been.

“The sky will eat them up or—or snuff them out and they’re just gone forever and I—I get this ringing in my ears and this sort of hollow feeling right here—” He pressed his palm against the center of his chest. “—and I can’t breathe and . . . It’s just this crushing loneliness. Like the universe is pulling the stardust out of my bones.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale and said, “That’s what it felt like, sitting in your bookshop today. Like I’d lost one of my stars.”

The angel’s breath came shuddering out of him, his mouth hanging open and eyes wide. “Oh,” he murmured, his fingers curling loosely against the front of his waistcoat.

Oh.

The silence that followed was excruciating. Crowley wished the floor would open up and swallow him. His whole body was burning in mortification, skin prickling.

“Yeah. Oh,” he muttered. He folded his arms and looked away, shoulders hunched up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, angel, I’m just gonna go drown myself in the bathtub—”

A hand gripped his elbow then, tight enough to hurt. Startled, Crowley turned to find that Aziraphale had crossed the short distance between them. He was close enough for Crowley to see the painter’s strokes of hazel in the otherwise blue-gray canvases of his eyes. They reminded him of far-off nebulas.

“My dear,” Aziraphale whispered, awed and exultant. Then he leaned in and kissed him.

It was uncoordinated and brief, a gentle slide of lips against his, but Crowley’s heart lit up like a newborn star, light pouring out from between the spaces in his ribs. Six-thousand years of friendship and affection and desire flared in his chest, igniting the gently burning hope that was there. He felt warm and bright. For a brief moment, he felt angelic.

Aziraphale eventually pulled back, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth and bumping their noses together. Crowley swayed forward, his center of gravity shot.

He let out a breathless, “Oh,” and Aziraphale huffed a laugh, warmth radiating from his eyes.

“Yes. Oh.”

Crowley brought his hands up to grip at Aziraphale’s coat, grounding himself. His fingers shook as they curled into the lapels, dark smudges of soot staining the fabric there. “Not too fast for you?” he asked, his heart thundering.

Aziraphale’s hands were a comforting weight as they came up and settled over his own, his thumbs stroking across Crowley’s knuckles. Pleasant little jolts were running up and down his arms at the sensation. Aziraphale leaned in, pressing their foreheads together.

“Let’s just set our own pace,” he murmured, his words soft and bright like the future stretching out before them. Like starlight.

#good omens #good omens fic #fic #ficlet #fanfiction #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #my fic

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markrees · 6 years ago

Text

Sunflower - Mark Lee

Mark is sweet. And gentle. And comfortable to be around with when he isn’t causing you to almost hyperventilate.

category: au!college Mark / i live for college student mark ;; f l u f f / shy mark, flustered mark, sweet mark, mark in general

word count: 11.5K sorry

warnings: none, just a lot of fluff really.

a/n: this took me weeks to finish :( i hope you like it!

Everything seemed to happen in a whizzing blur because right now you were still unable to fully comprehend what had just happened. One second you were walking to your next class, traipsing along the grey concrete of your university campus and the next second you found yourself on the ground, a painful sensation shooting up your right arm as you scrunch up your face in agony. You absentmindedly stare at the cast being applied carefully to the affected arm from the impact of your fall, eyeing the doctor’s fluid movements as he expertly does his task with major ease. To your left, you feel eyes burning holes on the side of your face, shifting his stare between your side view and your broken arm.

Mark Lee, also known as the cute boy in your advanced anatomy and physiology classes always hidden behind the rims of his round glasses, black hair and in the comfort of his hoodies, was standing just at the edge of your hospital bed watching you and the doctor quietly. Mark Lee, also known as the very person responsible for your dazed-like state resulting from the effects of the pain medications you had received earlier to manage your misery.

“The cast will have to stay on for six weeks,” the doctor says, snapping you out of your hazy thoughts as he finishes up. “You have to keep it dry at all costs but if you feel something isn’t right or if it’s too tight, come back to us straight away so we can fix it.”

You absentmindedly nod and examine your new arm and its new weight. The only thing you can move now were your fingers, left free at the end of the constriction. “Thank you doctor.”

With a smile and a nod, the doctor steps out of your cubicle, leaving you and Mark in silence. Oblivious to you, Mark had been paying much more attention to everything the doctor had said given the fact that he was more in tune with his surroundings while you were in a dizzy state. You’d momentarily forgotten Mark was there with you and you nearly flinch when you hear him speak.

“I’m really sorry, this is all my fault,” he says, guilt dripping from his voice and steps closer so that he can lean on the edge of your bed beside you.

You shake your head weakly, offering a small smile in hopes of reassuring him. “No, it’s alright. It’s no one’s fault. It was an accident.”

Mark rubs the nape of his neck as he stares into the wall opposite the two of you, replaying the earlier events and how he had knocked you off of your feet when he lost his balance on his bicycle.

“I shouldn’t have been cycling there in the first place, so really, it was my fault. You’d still have a perfectly working arm by now if I didn’t wake up late and wasn’t late for class.”

You laugh at his words and fiddle with the material of your cast. It was the first time you felt so light for the day and Mark eases at the sound of your laugh, loosening up his tense shoulders because of the guilt that had been eating him alive.

“It’s okay, really. It doesn’t hurt anymore so I should be okay,” you say and turn your head slightly to your left only to be met by a still guilty looking Mark. You raise your left hand and pat him gently on the back. “Mark, it’s fine. My arm is okay. I’m alive.”

He tears his eyes off the wall and cranes his neck slightly to look at you, a small smile forming on his lips as an appreciation of your consolation. “Is there at least anything I can do to make it a bit better?”

“Mark you really don’t have to—“

“I insist Y/N.”

You grow silent for a while, blinking at him.

“Anything at all. Don’t be shy. It’s the least I could possibly do,” Mark adds, determined to make it up to you.

You come to a conclusion that no matter how much you assure him you were alright, he would never not be guilty because honestly if you were in his shoes, you’d probably be basking yourself in utter guilt right now. So you decide to make it easier for him knowing what he’s feeling right now won’t vanish in a glimpse just from your words alone.

“Okay,” you finally say. You shift your gaze to your broken arm, an idea finally popping in your mind.

“Y-you can—” you start and you feel your chest tighten slightly when you catch Mark staring intently at you, silently prodding you to continue with warmth radiating from his big brown orbs.

“Bring me home?”

—

Week one.

Having a broken arm was more inconvenient than you had initially thought and to make matters worse, it was your dominant hand that just had to snap in two. Blowing a raspberry, you walk into your first lecture of the week ever since the incident, your face scrunching involuntarily as you recall how much of a struggle it was to get ready for university this morning. You walk along the large lecture hall and find your usual seat in the middle of the room that you had always opted to sit on; not to close to be noticed by the professor and not too far to be unable to see anything clearly. It isn’t long before the hall gets filled with bustling students, a lot of them clinging onto paper cups of hot beverages to keep them fuelled for the long day ahead.

You catch sight of the professor emerging from the door and takes his place on the podium to the right corner. With much struggle, you manage to take out your usual materials for class, mainly your anatomy and physiology notebook and your favourite black pen that somehow managed to make early lectures more bearable. The professor begins to speak coherently with the slides displayed on the huge screen and when you’re about to reach for your pen, realisation hits like a truck. You couldn’t write. And you groan in frustration upon the reminder, earning a few looks from the students not too far away from you. Luckily, it wasn’t loud enough for the professor to hear who continued to switch from one slide to another. You let out a sigh as quietly as you could, trying your best to hide your disappointment. So you sit back instead and attempt to listen to everything the professor taught, absorbing as much as your brain allowed so that maybe, you could type up your own notes later. It felt weird not to be writing because it was always something you did in every class. There’s anxiety bubbling up in your chest when your thoughts inadvertently fly to the remaining classes of the day— how were you going to survive?

You end up missing half the things said in your anatomy class because you were too focused on worrying about how the next six weeks would pan out. So when the professor dismisses your class, you rise from your seat with another groan, stuffing your untouched belongings into your bag with a huff. This day was not looking bright and it was only the first class. You can only imagine how difficult it would be to mentally prepare yourself for the rest of the day.

When you exit the hall to make your way to the next one, you stop in the middle of your tracks when your names echoes in between the walls of the building.

“Y/N!”

You turn around and find Mark lightly jogging up to you. He’s wearing yet another hoodie with black jeans and glasses sitting snugly on the bridge of his nose. You smile at him when he reaches you soon after, unknowingly forgetting about how horrible your day was unraveling.

“How’s the arm?” He asks, securing one of the straps of his backpack on his shoulder.

You raise your right arm and wave it slightly in front of him. “Still broken, I think.”

Mark chuckles at your reply and you find yourself smiling along. “Yeah about that I’m really sorry.”

“Mark I was joking. And it’s fine, I promise,” you say.

He purses his lips and nod in defeat. “But still,” he starts and stops himself from apologising again. “Anyways, here.”

You look down and see pages in his hands being extended out to you. You glance back up at him. “What are those?”

He prods you to take them from his hands and you do so, scanning through the handwriting sprawled everywhere on the first page. From the corner of your eye, you see Mark rub the nape of his neck again, a bashful smile playing on his lips.

“Well since uh.. I figured you can’t write because of your arm,” Mark says and you pick up on how shy he’s suddenly become. “So I took notes for you from today’s class.”

You scan the remaining pages and true enough, Mark had taken down everything that was discussed in the class earlier, even drawing mini diagrams with labels here and there and you smile when you see him add his own little notes and reminders on the sides of the pages in a different coloured pen. Mark’s writing wasn’t the neatest and you know it’s because of how fast paced the anatomy lectures usually were and how much of a struggle it was to actually keep up with the professor’s words. But what impresses you is that he’s managed to write everything down in such a short span of time, something you couldn’t do, always missing a few important bits.

You couldn’t help but feel a weight lifted off of your shoulder.

“I know it might not be as good as the notes you usually take but—“

You didn’t realise how happy a bunch of pages put together made you until you find yourself jumping up to envelop your arms around Mark’s neck. Maybe it was the fact that you were so convinced you’d have a horrible day ahead and the fact that Mark had come to rescue you from a fraction of your misery without him knowing but right now, you were just happy and you wanted to hang on to the positive things to help you through the long classes waiting for you. It was a small gesture from Mark. But to you, it was more than enough.

“Oh my goodness this is perfect. Thank you so much. You didn’t have to—“ You stop midway when you realise the position you had gotten yourself into and immediately peel yourself off of Mark who didn’t get the chance to fully comprehend the actions you had just exhibited.

You find him blinking rapidly behind his glasses when you step away from him. You feel heat creep up on your cheeks along with the embarrassment taking over every cell of your body and before he could open his mouth to say something, you cut him off.

“I will study these notes well! Thank you!” You say with a smile, “I’ll see you around then Mark!” You continue quickly and turn on your heels to walk away before he could notice your face that by now is probably as red as a tomato.

Week two.

After a week of adjusting, you were slowly getting used to using one good arm and compromising with the other. Basic tasks such as washing the dishes, taking a shower and brushing your teeth was still a challenge but everyday seemed to get easier. Instead of writing notes physically during lectures, you found it easier to type as you listened, given that your fingers were functioning just fine. Though it felt weird not to be using your favourite pens and turning the pages of your notebook and staring at the bright screen for hours, you felt calmer knowing you kept track of everything you had to study.

The only physical notes you had from the previous week was Mark’s. And there were times you’d discover yourself staring at the pages a little longer, studying not the material, but every stroke that he produced on the page. You had found fascination in the way he wrote his words and even though you’ve studied his material countless of times, you couldn’t help but revise all the information squashed into the reams over and over again. You’re convinced you’ve memorised the nitty gritty of how the human kidneys worked at this stage.

You don’t see Mark after that encounter. After all, you only have once class together and it only occurred once a week. But you’re surprised with how much you’ve been thinking about him. It isn’t until today that you see him again, walking up the stairs of the lecture hall, scanning the room for a seat until he stops just by the row you always sat yourself in. You were early today and so you took comfort in the emptiness and silence of the hall that was yet to be filled with students you really didn’t know. You catch his eyes just as he stands by the edge of the row of empty seats and smiles at you then before scooting himself inside until he’s standing over the seat next to yours.

“Hey,” he greets. “Is this seat taken?”

You glance down at the chair and then back up at Mark, shaking your head lightly. “No, it’s not.”

He smiles at your response and proceeds to sit on the empty chair, placing his backpack just underneath the table.

You blink a couple of times, quite taken aback that the person you’ve just been thinking about (and all week) is sitting right next to you. He’s wearing another hoodie today, a red one, and his dark brown hair is falling just on top of his glasses. You don’t remember ever sitting next to Mark, your memories of him only ever consisting of the boy who sat near the back, in the corner beside another student whom you didn’t know the name of.

There’s silence echoing in the huge hall and you try to rack your brain for things to talk about. Mark seems to be thinking the exact same thing because you both speak at the same time when a topic comes to mind.

“How are—“

“The notes—“

You both chuckle shortly after and Mark gestures for you to speak first. He’s smiling and you notice little sparkles in his eyes. You give yourself a moment to come back to your world after being momentarily lost in the way that his nose crinkled whenever he laughed.

“The notes from last week,” you start. “They were really good. I studied well, thank you.”

The smile on Mark’s lips widen. “Yeah? I was actually worried they didn’t make any sense. I’ve already broken your arm, I don’t want you failing this module too.”

You let out a hearty laugh and you don’t see the way Mark watches you with contentment. “No no. They were actually better than the notes I usually write. So I’m pretty sure no one’s failing anytime soon.”

Mark nods in satisfaction and he pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he leans forward to rest his clasped hands on the table.

“Well then, leave today’s class up to me,” he announces, watching students come in the lecture hall at the bottom of the room.

You stare at his side profile and tilt your head a little to the side. “It’s okay Mark, I can type my notes today,” you reply and tap your laptop sitting on the table.

Mark glances at the device for a second before shrugging. “No. You relax. I got this.”

“Mark, really it’s okay. You don’t have to—“

He turns to you then and he catches you off guard slightly when he leans forward towards your direction. He’s smiling at you, never breaking eye contact.

“I don’t have to. I’m doing it because I want to.”

Week three.

You can’t focus. And you’re not paying attention to the things you should be. You didn’t even know what the topic of today’s lecture was. The professor’s words seem to drown out of your head completely because you’re staring at the figure beside you writing notes down profusely. You watch Mark repeat his cycle; craning his head towards the front where the lecturer stood before dipping his head down again. There’s a set of pages for you and a set for him and it was only then that you realised how hard he had to work because now he was writing not just for himself but for you too. And no matter how many times you’ve fought to take your eyes off of him, you can’t. And you didn’t know why.

It’s only when Mark looks up some time after and turn his head to you that you’re forced to look away. But when you do, you’re sure he still caught you staring. You feel Mark’s eyes linger on you for a while and you wonder if there was anything on your face for him to do so. When he does resume to focusing his attention to the lecture, you exhale a breath you weren’t aware you were holding.

Lectures were always long but today felt painfully longer than usual. And you think it’s because of the fact that everything being taught didn’t seem to implant themselves in your brain. You couldn’t be more relieved when you see the word conclusion appear on the wide screen indicating the end of anatomy and physiology that felt like centuries later.

“Are you not tired?” You ask Mark curiously as you get up from your seat and prepare to leave.

“Mhm?” Mark hums in response, stuffing his belongings into his backpack. “I got eight hours of sleep last night so I’m good.”

You smile to yourself at his words and follow him when he begins to make his way out of the hall. “Well that’s good. But I meant like, taking down two sets of notes? You were literally on fire in there.”

Mark chuckles as he holds the door open for you, allowing you to exit first with him following closely behind. “No, not really. I’m okay.”

You raise a questioning brow. “Sure?”

Mark nods, “Very sure.”

You feel yourself flinch when Mark’s fingertips graze your shoulder lightly, tugging at the only strap of your backpack that clung onto you before finally letting it fall into his fingers and into his grip, swinging it over his free shoulder.

You blink at him before frowning, noticing the burning sensation of where his fingers were. “What are you doing?”

Mark only smiles sheepishly at you. “Walking you to your next class. Lead the way?”

You try to hide the smile that’s desperate to form on your lips as well as the heat climbing up on your cheeks as you stand your ground.

“Mark my legs are fine to walk. It’s my arm that’s broken, remember?” You say, waving your cast-wrapped arm.

“I know that,” Mark simply replies, amused.

You didn’t want Mark to walk you to wherever your next class was because you feel you’ve had enough of him for the day. Enough of distractions.

You’re reaching out for your bag as you insist, “So you don’t have to walk me anywhere—“

You don’t finish your sentence when he swerves his shoulder away, leaving your arms hanging midair. He smiles at you again and he shrugs when he does. “Just let me.”

“But why? There’s really no need—”

“Because I want to.”

So here you were, weaving in and out of the sea of students in the corridors as you reach for your destination, Mark walking right beside you. You hadn’t spoken to him since, not really knowing what to say when he was so insistent and didn’t want to take a no for an answer. And because you were at a loss for words. He doesn’t speak either. But continues to smile instead.

When you do reach a door similar to the one you had walked into for your first class but on the other end of the building, Mark doesn’t hand you your backpack. He takes it upon himself to move closer to you to put it on your shoulder, taking the time to ensure it sat there snugly. And all you could do was watch.

He steps back a second after and rummages in his own bag to retrieve something. His hands emerges then with the notes he had taken earlier and extends them out to you. “Notes for this week. I hope they don’t disappoint.”

You smile at him gratefully before reaching your good arm out to take them from him. “I’m sure they won’t. Thanks.”

Mark zips his bag closed and swings it over his shoulder. “I better get to class. I’ll see you around?”

You nod. “Of course.”

He’s about to turn on his heels to walk away when he abruptly stops and turns back to you again. “Oh— I almost forgot. Do you like coffee?”

It takes you a moment to answer, taken aback by the random question. “Uh, I think I like hot chocolate better.”

Mark nods firmly then and waves a hand before walking away for real this time. You blink at his retreating figure and when he turns a corner and disappears completely, your eyes fall to the pages in your hand. You raise it closer to your vision when you find a small green sticky note stuck to the corner of the first page. And for the first time ever, you feel your pulse skip a beat.

“Study hard! But not too hard!”

Week four.

You never thought you’d see the day come where you would be excited for a Monday. You hated Mondays, truly. Mondays were long and tiring and you were always exhausted by the time the day finished and there would still be four days left of the week to hustle and bustle. But today was different because you were stepping on campus grounds with a smile on your face, not a frown, but a smile. The sun is shining so bright overhead and you can’t help but feel yet another bubble of happiness explode in your chest. You find it weird to be feeling this way at half eight in the morning because you would usually be walking into the building with a huff, contemplating and questioning your life decisions.

And you’re startled when you find Mark standing just by the door of the lecture hall you both shared every start of the week, because the way that your heart picks up its pace doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Mark is kicking at the floor lightly, glueing his eyes to the motions of his limbs and you stop dead in your tracks to just observe him for a while without his knowledge.

When Mark looks up to see you, he smiles like he usually does and you struggle to keep your insides calm because if you were being honest, he looked absolutely breathtaking. There’s something different about him today and when you let your eyes follow his movements as he walks towards you, that’s when you realise that for the first time he wasn’t hidden in his usual comfortable hoodies. Today, he’s wearing a white shirt half tucked into the material of his light blue jeans and finishing the look with a pair of clean white converse. His hair bounces with every step he takes and when your eyes fall onto his face, you can see his brown orbs radiate clearly under the stream of the sunlight in the absence of his glasses.

“Good morning,” he greets. “For you.”

It takes you a few seconds to fully register his words and when you finally do, you see a cup enveloped in his hand being offered to you.

“What’s this?” You ask confusedly, shifting your gaze from the cup to his face.

Mark smiles and forces the cup onto your left hand before leaning in slightly to tug at the strap of your bag just like how he did last week. Growing uncomfortable by the way your heart was hammering against your rib cage, you swiftly lower your shoulder so that Mark can take the object from you easier because you knew that the longer his fingers grazed your shoulder, the longer you were going to feel the knots in your stomach. You train your eyes to the floor just as Mark places your bag onto the opposite shoulder his own bag sat on.

“Hot chocolate,” Mark says, bringing your attention to the warm beverage now wrapped beneath your fingers. “Let’s get to class?”

So that’s why you were elated to face your Monday; you get to sit beside Mark and watch him diligently scribble perfect notes as he spares glances at you here and there accompanied with a small smile, as if to silently let you know that he was paying attention to you too. And contrary to last week, you didn’t even look away whenever he caught you already looking at him. You wanted to, but you simply couldn’t. And the way he takes the time to smile at you every now and then makes you feel it’s okay to do so, that it was okay to fixate your gaze on him while continued on with his task.

Your thumb fiddles with the cup of the hot chocolate that rests on your lap, thinking to yourself the possibility of falling for this boy. Because you could feel it. In between the hushed whispers in class, the unnecessary crinkle of his nose whenever you said a lousy joke and in the way your breath hitches whenever he got too close. You catch yourself falling in awe because four weeks wasn’t even that long to be harbouring feelings for someone you recalled to be a stranger who blended in well in the background just like you. But that’s when you realise that Mark never blended amongst the crowd like you. To you he was always a conscious presence, a presence you felt compelled towards but never really got the opportunity to uncover. And you think it’s because of his quiet demeanour that shielded many things underneath the comfort of his oversized hoodies that leaves you wondering and pondering what he could possibly be like.

You smile because you discover it for yourself. You get to experience what he’s really like. Mark is sweet. And gentle. And comfortable to be around with when he isn’t causing you to almost hyperventilate.

“Why are you smiling?” Mark asks in a whisper, leaning slightly towards you as the professor’s voice continues to boom throughout the hall.

You shake your head silently with a shrug of your shoulders. “Just because.”

Mark continues to stare at you (your lips), his pen in his hand and ponders for a few seconds.

“I like it.”

Your eyes widen slightly and you don’t get the chance to throw him a questioning look because he’s already turned away to resume on catching the professor’s words on paper.

Once the hour is up, Mark is walking you to your next class again, allowing his memory lead the way through the corridors. You traipse along with him, the now half empty beverage being the only thing you were carrying as he refused not to carry your belongings for you earlier. You drown into small conversation with him, relishing in the feeling of being calm for the first time since meeting Mark today. You laugh at something he says, your hearty laugh echoing in his ears that encourage him to laugh with you. He places your bag on your shoulder again, just like how he did last week when you both reach the familiar entrance of another hall.

“I put the notes in your bag,” Mark says as he runs a hand through his hair when it gets caught in his eyes. “Enjoy class.”

You smile gratefully at him though feeling sad on the inside with the thought of not seeing him anymore until next week. “Thanks. I really appreciate it. I’ll see you next Monday then?”

Mark is rocking on his toes and he averts his eyes from yours, training his gaze to the ground for a second or two before looking up at you again. He rests his hand on the strap of his bag while the other flies a hand to the nape of his neck, a gesture that reminds you of the very first day he wrote your material for you.

“Actually, I wanted to ask if you’re free this Friday?” Mark asks, a shy smile eminent on his lips.

You can’t help but smile at the sight, an inkling of hope sparking in you that he might be feeling the same way you did. Not wanting to assume so soon, you muster up the courage to clarify his intentions.

“Friday?”

Mark drops his hand from his neck and opts to stuff into the pocket of his jeans instead, his little bashful gestures tugging at your heartstrings.

“Yeah. There’s a café that recently opened nearby and I wanted to ask if you’d like to come and check it out with me? I heard they make really nice hot chocolates,” he explains and you take note of the tint of rose spreading across his cheeks.

You pretend to think about his proposal, not wanting to sound so eager when in reality, you’ve already made up your mind even before he even got to ask.

“I finish at six that day, is that okay?” You say after a while, feeling giddy and excited at the thought of spending your Friday evening with the cute boy in the white shirt.

Mark’s face lightens up and the grip on your cup involuntarily tightens because of how happy he looked with your reply.

“Of course. That’s great,” he says, grinning.

You fumble at each other’s phone then to exchange numbers with the promise of Mark texting you before he walks away to get to his own class. You enter your lecture hall not too long after and settle in your seat. When you come across the sight of Mark’s familiar handwriting on the pages that are neatly tucked away in your book, you curiously take it out of your bag and examine the newly jotted notes, growing more and more accustomed to your routine with him.

You don’t fail to notice yet another green sticky note plastered on the corner of the first page and you feel yourself completely crumble altogether.

“You have a really pretty smile.”

—

You’re huffing and puffing when you feel your legs grow weaker by the second. There’s a burning sensation coating your lungs but you don’t stop running. It was approaching thirty minutes past six and you were late. The thought of Mark waiting for you sent guilt running up your spine. You finally round a corner and find him waiting patiently outside the said café. He’s wearing a dark grey sweater today, hair slightly tousled because of the wind that had just blown, staring out into the street in front of him.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry I’m late,” you say in between your heavy breaths once you reach him, your approaching figure catching his attention. You’re leaning slightly forward and clutching your chest with your broken arm to catch your breath.

As if on instinct, Mark takes the book you’re holding on to so tightly in your hand that you had failed to stuff in your bag after rushing to get here when your last class ended later than usual. He proceeds to take your bag from you too, something that felt too natural now.

Mark only smiles at you when he takes your belongings and holds them as if they were his. “It’s alright. No worries. I didn’t wait much.”

You let out a huge breath. “How long have you been waiting?”

Thirty minutes. Mark shrugs his shoulders, “I just got here.”

Not buying his lie, you walk past him and enter the café first, the bell signalling customers had arrived. “Okay, I’m paying.”

Mark frowns just behind you. “No. I asked you to come. I’m paying.”

“Yes but I was late so I’m making up for it,” you retorted and find a table by the corner. You slip into the seat as Mark settles on the seat opposite you.

“Y/N—“

“Mark, I’m paying.”

Sighing dejectedly, Mark slumps his shoulders in defeat. You smile victoriously and take the time to appreciate the coziness of the place you had just entered. Dark wooden walls enclosed the area, round tables spread generously throughout the space with little light bulbs hanging from the ceiling, emitting a mellow glow of yellow all around. There’s soft jazz music playing in the background and you’re immediately enthralled with how warm it makes you feel on the inside. You weren’t one to opt for cafés usually but this one was definitely on the top of your non-existent list.

“I like it here already,” you perk up, attracting Mark’s attention who had been focused on the small menu set on the table.

Mark smiles in content. “Yeah? I’m glad.”

A few minutes of deciding after, Mark rises and walks to the counter to order and you take this opportunity to fix yourself up, patting your hair down from the frantic running earlier. It isn’t too long before you see Mark emerging to reach for his seat again. When he sits in front you, you recognise the way he isn’t wearing his glasses again and you’re reminded by the shining of his eyes. You feel conscious under his stare because he’s leaning on the table, resting on his crossed arms and you try to shy away from it by looking elsewhere.

“Rough day today?” He asks, concerned.

You momentarily close your eyes and release a sigh before opening them again. “Very. Today felt so long.”

“Yeah?” Mark asks as if to confirm, a habit of his you found somehow captivating. “Tell me about it.”

So you do. You ramble on about how each class seemed to dragged on forever and how your merciless professors are piling up work on top of work with no hesitation. You vent out all your frustrations because the stress was getting to you. But you don’t tell him about the excitement of meeting him that kept you moving forward to survive the horrible day. He didn’t need to know that one.

“Oh— I’m sorry, that must have been so boring to listen to,” you cut yourself off in the middle of another sentence when you start talking about the frustration of working in a group with students who weren’t as dedicated on putting in work as much as you were.

You expect to find Mark dozing off at your ramblings, but instead, you find him in the same position he was earlier, leant forward, smiling at you and nodding to every word that left your mouth.

“No it’s not. Keep talking,” he assures. You’re oblivious as to how he finds fascination in your voice.

You’re about to protest when the waitress comes to deliver what Mark had ordered earlier. She carefully sets two hot chocolates in front you followed by slices of blueberry and chocolate cheesecakes. You thank the waitress along with Mark and that’s when you notice she’s unmoving in her spot, taking a good look at Mark. She looks about your age, long black hair tied loosely past her shoulders. Mark is slower to notice her attention and you feel queasy when there’s an unfamiliar feeling forming in your gut.

You see Mark shift in his seat uncomfortably when he thanks the waitress again. She mumbles a quick welcome before walking away, cheeks tinted. You smile in amusement when Mark regains his composure, tugging at his sweater.

“I think she likes you,” you point out, stirring your hot chocolate with the small spoon.

Mark chuckles lightly and shakes his head as he follows what you’re doing. “Nah, probably not.”

“Her stare says otherwise,” you prod, surprised by the way your tone sounded rigid.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mark dismisses and looks at you as he wraps his slender fingers around his mug, nodding his head at your mug . “Try it and see if it lives up to your expectations.”

You divert you eyes to your hot chocolate before lifting the mug and letting your tastebuds become coated with the warm liquid. It brings you waves of calm and you savour the sweet taste, forgetting about the eventful day that sent you to unimaginable stress. When you let the mug down in its original place on the table, you hum in contentment.

“Okay that’s really good,” you say, using your tongue to remove the excess that had managed to stay on your top lip.

Mark follows suit and takes his first sip, agreeing with you when he gets a taste. You lose yourselves into your conversations then, swapping your cakes with each other in between so that you can both challenge who had the better cake. You learn about Mark’s family and his love for instruments and anything that had to do with music; something he said no one really knew about. He learns about you in return and your family that lives miles away in England. You tell him how much you miss them, especially your little brother who’s just three years of age and Mark empathises with you when he tells you his family lives in Canada. Both of you jump from one topic to another, discovering more similarities than you would’ve thought and challenging each other’s views on certain subjects that required a lot more thought. Regardless, every single conversation is smooth flowing and there’s an abundance of laughs in between transitions. You grow to like the crinkling of Mark’s nose when he laughs while Mark on the other hand, revels in how light your laugh makes him feel. And even though the place is filled with the distant chatters of other people sipping on their coffee, both of you take no notice of them, heavily engaged into whatever you were talking about.

You feel a newly uncovered connection with Mark and you wonder if he felt the same way.

It’s a little past nine when you both call it a night and rise from the table you both had grown comfortable in. You walk towards the counter with the intent to pay only to be notified that everything has been paid for already. You turn to raise a questioning brow at Mark who only smiles sheepishly at you.

“I told you I’d pay,” you say once you exit the cozy café.

“No. I asked you to come so it’s only right that I pay,” Mark defends. “Besides, it’s an excuse for me to see you again. You can treat me next time.”

You grow silent at his reply and internally surrender when his words sends your heart in a frenzy. Mark walks you to your apartment situated ten minutes away from where your university was. It’s as if you two never the left the café because you’re still laughing during your conversations even at the cringeworthy puns Mark makes every chance he got. You can’t remember the last time you’ve laughed this much, only ever basking in the feeling of longing you had for your family back home. You weren’t the type to make friends either, hence spending the majority of your time by yourself. However being with Mark felt like a breath of fresh air. He made interacting feel easier which was a surprise to you because it’s always been something you’ve struggled with.

You reach your apartment building just as you finish chuckling at something he said. He hands you your book and the bag he had claimed before leaving the café earlier.

“Thanks for today, I had a lot of fun,” you say genuinely, adjusting your bag with your good hand.

Stuffing his hands into the pocket of his jeans, Mark smiles with a nod. “Me too. I’ll see you Monday?”

You nod carefully and you take this as your queue to head inside but the way Mark is smiling at you endearingly, eyes forming crescent moons screams at your insides to do something else. All the rationality in your system seem to fly out the window when you’re taking a step towards him, leaning on your toes to reach up and plant a quick kiss on his cheek. You’re embarrassed by your actions but not as embarrassed as Mark who’s blushing like mad and training his eyes to the ground in vain attempts of hiding the heat that’s spreading across his face.

“See you on Monday,” you say with a satisfied smile.

—

Week five.

Five weeks with a cast around your arm and you were living completely fine with it. Tasks didn’t bother you anymore, applying your own know-how’s on how to handle such chores. The only thing bothered you was when the skin under the hard material itched so bad you could literally only writhe your fingers in hopes of consoling yourself until you realise it doesn’t work and silently hope for the discomfort to end instead. Mark texts you right after you part from him that Friday night. Even thought it was a mere good night, sleep well it was more than enough for you to grin like an idiot as you reread the message over and over again. You furtively dread seeing him today as the sun rises, indicating another start to your work after burying yourself in work during the weekend, never leaving your room, because you remember that risky kiss you had impulsively planted on his cheek. You prepare yourself for the worst; Mark avoiding you and hiding himself because of what you did. But mentally argue with yourself; he texted you that night so that might mean you didn’t scare him away completely. Regardless, you silently wish you hadn’t been so irrational and let your emotions take over.

You walk in the building, half hoping to see Mark wait for you by the door you entered together for the past few weeks now. And you know you’re in deep trouble because you’re already expecting to see him first thing on a Monday morning; an unconscious confirmation of your desire to spend at least an hour with him.

You pick up the way your muscles relax unintentionally when you catch sight of him already looking towards your direction with his usual smile. He’s wearing his glasses today and the sight of his round specs make you realise you kind of missed them. When you reach him, he extends out the familiar cup of hot chocolate in his hand and extends his other free hand in place for your bag. You roll your eyes playfully, butterflies reeling in your stomach as you trade.

“I really don’t understand why you have to carry my bag. I’m perfectly able for that task,” you say when you’re hopping along the stairs of the hall, careful enough not to spill your beverage.

Mark chuckles behind you and follows you carefully as you shuffle into your usual row. “And I don’t understand why you protest so much. I told you before, I’m doing it because I want to.”

You sit yourself on the chair after you unfold it from its original state and give Mark an inquiring look. Mark follows suit and settles both of your bags below where he usually places them. “Why? Do you not like me doing it?”

You purse your lips as you try not to melt. He’s genuine with his question, feeling worried you might have developed a distaste for his actions. You shake your head, wondering if you wanted to be one hundred percent transparent so early in the day. But Mark is asking you with his eyes and you feel the urge to show an eighth of how you’ve been feeling.

“It’s not that,” you start. “It’s just I don’t want to get used to it and this,” you say as you raise the hot chocolate within his view. He glances at it and shifts his gaze onto you almost immediately, encouraging you to continue with a nod. “My cast comes off in a week Mark, and I don’t want myself to expect you doing these still when it does because I’m slowly growing used to all of this.”

Mark blinks a couple of times and you’re instantly regretting being so honest. You take a sip from your cup to comfort yourself in the sweet taste and to distract yourself from the words you had just let go of. You avoid Mark’s eyes which you can’t read at the moment.

“You really think I’m doing all of this because of your cast?”

You snap your head towards his direction. “Aren’t you? And because of guilt maybe?”

He stays silent after and you take the opportunity to emphasise your opinion.

“I’ve already told you it’s okay. My broken arm wasn’t anybody’s fault and that there’s nothing to be sorry for—“

“I know that. And I took your word for it,” Mark interrupts, his eyebrows furrowing in the middle, an expression you’ve never seen on him before. “Which is why I kept telling you that I’m not doing it out of anything— not out of guilt, not out of obligation. But because I simply want to.” Mark inhales a breath and runs a hand through his hair.

“And I’m going to keep doing it for you, your arm broken or not.”

And that’s it. You finally melt. And the the crescent of his smiling eyes with the emergence of his chiseled cheekbones when he smiles doesn’t help the butterflies in your stomach calm their whimsical wings, tickling you ever so lightly.

Mark doesn’t speak anymore as the class begins and you’re left alone with your haywire thoughts. And you grow even more embarrassed for the rest of the day when you read your note for the day, presenting itself in the usual green sticky note attached to your notes.

“You look really cute when you’re flustered.”

In the middle of the week, you find yourself seated on a bench overlooking the wide green football pitch as you skim over Mark’s notes, revising the topic you hadn’t paid much attention to during the actual lecture. It’s one in the afternoon which meant that you had an hour for lunch so here you were, finding solace in the silence under the shade of a tree to protect yourself from the sun. You trace your fingers under the ink as you read every bullet point, occasionally looking up to stare into the distance to mentally repeat what you’ve just read to check how immersed you were in your study.

You feel your phone vibrate just beside you and you reach for it, eyes unwavering from the page. You read one more sentence before switching your attention to your phone. Mark’s name displays on the screen, indicating a new message from him.

Did you have lunch yet?

Your thumbs tap on your device in a fluid manner hitting the send button not too long after to tell him no and that you weren’t feeling hungry. You don’t get a reply within the time frame that Mark usually replies in and so you set your phone back on the bench, eyes travelling to your notes once again. A few minutes later, a pair of shoes appears just in front of you and slowly, you peel your eyes away from Mark’s handwriting to see who your company was.

Mark is smiling down at you just as he leans down slightly to settle a brown paper bag just on the unoccupied space of the bench beside you. You smile in return, happy at the sight of him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask curiously when he stands back up.

Mark is rocking back and forwards on his toes again. “I was walking by and I saw you. Figured I’d say hi.”

“Well, hello,” you answer playfully.

Mark grins bashfully, running a hand through his hair. “I actually have class now so I have to go.”

“So you came to actually say bye,” you tease, a playful eyebrow raised as you cross your arms across your chest.

“Trust me I don’t want to say bye but I have to get this degree,” he says, playing along with you.

You chuckle and he mirrors your actions. “Alright,” you say and wave a hand. He turns on his heels then and leave you alone again in your silence. When he’s no longer in view, your eyes fall to the brown bag he had placed before you earlier. You pick it up and rip the familiar green sticky note off of the thin material of the bag, finding Mark’s writing etched on it.

“Please don’t skip your meals ㅠ ㅠ Studying is good but not when you’re missing food.”

You smile to yourself and find a sandwich hidden inside the bag with a bottle of orange juice. A chuckle escapes your mouth when you pick up yet another sticky note that’s plastered on the sandwich.

“This isn’t much but it’ll do for now. We’ll get proper food this Friday. If you’re up for it.”

Mark was sweet. As always.

—

It’s Friday. And you’re walking alongside Mark along the streets of the city, allowing your eyes wander all around the buildings you happen to pass by as you savour the taste of the vanilla ice cream sitting perfectly on your cone. Mark upheld his suggestion in taking you out for dinner once again and after losing yet another debate on who pays for the meal, you suggested to buy him ice cream instead, insisting until he finally caved in and gave you what you wanted. There’s a smile playing on your lips when you see Mark indulge in his watermelon flavoured ice cream. He wasn’t carrying your usual backpack today. Instead, he slung your small handbag across his shoulders and let it rest slightly above his hip.

“So where would you like to go next week?” Mark suddenly asks after licking his dessert.

“Next week?” You ask inquisitively.

Mark nods, eyes ahead. “Is there anything you’re craving?”

You narrow your eyes at his side view, not really sure if you wanted to ask the question burning in your mind for the longest time. But you decide against it and decide to go along with his suggestions instead.

“Not that I can think of, no,” you simply reply.

Mark purses his lips in thought. “Hm. How about burgers? Pizza? Pasta?”

You take another lick off your ice cream as you consider the variety of food mentioned. “Burgers sound good.”

Mark nods proudly, biting into his cone. “Burgers it is then. I’ll look for good places around.”

You chuckle when he gets some ice cream on his nose and you don’t for one second hesitate to reach out and wipe it away with the tissue in your free hand. He merely watches your moves and blink right after you succeed in wiping his face clean. “Is this food hunt a weekly thing now?”

You don’t notice Mark stiffen and regain his composure as he trails his eyes ahead, obviously taken aback by your touch because as far as he could remember, he’d always been the one on the giving end, except for that one kiss you had given him. He clears his throat then and proceeds on focusing on his dessert to distract himself from the warmth spreading across his cheeks.

“It could be. If you want,” he says.

You nudge his side playfully, “It could be if you’d let me pay.”

Mark quirks a smile. “I let you pay earlier didn’t I?”

You roll your eyes playfully at him, causing him to emit another chuckle. “That was dessert. I mean like a proper meal.”

Mark takes a step closer to you unknowingly. “I’m the one asking you out on dates. So it’s on me.”

Your head whizzes towards his direction and an eyebrow shoots up immediately. There were times you’d wonder if the last Friday and today were considered as dates. But you never dwelled on it and opted to treat them as two friends hanging out and checking out cozy places but now that Mark has said it himself, a new set of questions seeped into your mind.

“Dates?”

Munching on the last bit of his cone, Mark nods with a smile, slightly amused at your incredulous face. He stuffs his hand in his pocket and meet your eyes. “Dates. What have you been thinking all this time?”

You continue to blink at him, unmoving, not realising you’ve stopped walking, people weaving around you. Mark stops with you and waits for your reply.

“I- I don’t know,” you say truthfully. “I thought we were just grabbing food together.”

Mark chuckles lowly and lifts a hand to rub the nape of his neck, a shy smile forming on his lips. “I’m sorry. I was wrong on my part. I didn’t make myself clear enough, did I?”

Your mouth is now hanging slightly open.

“Okay,” Mark says when he sees you still confused. “I want to take you out on a date next week. Let’s get some burgers?”

You finally snap out of your trance when a stranger’s shoulder bumps into yours, making you lose your balance slightly. Mark is quick to reach out to you and grab a hold of your arms to stabilise you, his touch sending surges of electricity through the fabric of your sweater.

You try to laugh off your embarrassing faces just now as you begin to walk ahead, wiping your hand that had been dripped on by your melting ice cream. “We’re not even dating,” you say in a light tone in attempts to hide the erratic beating of your heart.

Mark walks until he’s beside you, close enough that his shoulder touches with yours.

“Yeah? Maybe we should start dating then.”

—

Week six.

Mark’s words eat at you the whole weekend that passes and it isn’t helping that he’s smiling at you more often now, his nose crinkling and his eyes disappearing. Nevertheless, you can’t shrug off the light weight settling in your chest whenever he momentarily shifts his eyes from the notes he’s writing to you only for his lips to curl upwards into a small smile. There’s another hot chocolate sitting at your desk and you feel it tastes even sweeter today. When Mark brings you to your next class, his gaze lingers on you a little longer and you’re tempted to cower away so that he doesn’t see you becoming flustered because his eyes spoke too much and it was enough to terrify you; you feel yourself losing to him. His notes are in your hands and the small green in the corner catches your eye immediately. He doesn’t leave though, staring at you, silently encouraging you to read what he had written for you today.

Go on a date with me?

And when you look back up at him, he’s just smiling, hands buried deep within his pockets and balancing his weight back and forth his toes.

Lunch times were no longer spent on your own because Mark made an effort to cross from his building which was all the way on the other end of the campus to yours just so he could eat with and talk to you. It’s Thursday and you’re watching him curiously as he twiddles with the marker in between his fingers, twirling it skilfully, another habit of his you had picked up whenever he paused from writing. Your casted arm is laid on the table just below him. He had asked you earlier if he could write on it since it would be coming off this weekend and you agreed without hesitation, giddy at the thought of having a part of Mark with you.

When you happen to glance at the time on your phone, you reluctantly take your arm off of the table, Mark following your every move.

“I’ve class. I have to go,” you say simply as you gather your things. “Still can’t decide what to write?”

Mark shakes his head and gets up from his chair when you do, stuffing the last of your things into your bag and grabbing it to swing on his shoulder but just as he’s about to do so, you grab his arm and stop and him.

“You stay here. I can walk to class on my own,” you assure him.

“Are we going to do this again? I want—“

You halt his words with a firm nod of your head, your lips quirking up into a smile. “I know that.” A soft chuckle leaves your lips as you reach out and plant a pink sticky note on his forehead.

Mark stares at you on confusion, his face adorable.

“I’ll see you this Friday then?” You say with a wink before walking away to leave.

Mark watches you before raising his hand to pluck the sticky note off his forehead.

I would love to go on date with you.

—

Mark surprises you once again when he holds out a bouquet of fresh sunflowers to you hiding behind a bashful smile shielded with the crescent moon of his eyes and cheekbones as prominent as ever. There’s heat creeping up on your cheeks as you take the flowers from him.

“Sunflowers?” You ask curiously, taking in the beauty of each one. The sight of the bright yellow alone is enough to make you happy from the inside.

Mark smiles shyly and runs a hand through his hair. “Umm,” he starts, obviously hesitating. You take your eyes away from the flowers and encourage him to continue with a nod of your head and a smile on your lips. “It’s going to sound so cheesy but... you remind me of sunflowers, that’s why.”

You can’t help the smile on your face from reaching one ear to the other, melting slowly by his sheepish confession. “It’s not cheesy, Mark. It’s sweet.”

Mark grins, his eyes smiling along.

“And thank you, I love them.”

And just like the previous Fridays, you block the whole world out as you and Mark talk about life, memories, people and the world. You get a better understanding of Mark and you let yourself open up to him knowing it was exactly that he wanted you to do. And it feels light. It feels weightless. Exposing your worries, concerns and dreams with Mark doesn’t feel hard to do because you feel your secrets are safe with him. You feel safe with him. Every word that leaves your mouth registers in Mark’s mind without missing a syllable and he makes a vow never to forget a single one because if anything, you sharing everything that was kept under your façade was all he’s ever wanted you to do. So that you don’t have to carry the burden alone. So that you didn’t feel alone. And Mark does his best to make you feel like you aren’t, in the way he responds to you, in the way he never takes his eyes off of you and in the way he reaches out to wrap your hand under his when the words get caught in your throat.

Mark doesn’t let go of your hand the whole walk home. You expected to feel your heart jump right out of your chest the moment he took your hand in his and effortlessly intertwine his fingers in between yours, but instead, the moment felt all too natural, and you felt calm, comfortable even. Mark feels warm and you instinctively lean closer to him when a gush of wind blows and you’re oblivious to the way he smiles above you when you do.

“Today was something else,” you mumble when you reach a familiar building.

Mark smiles at you, not ready to let go of your hand just yet, your bouquet of flowers nestling in his other arm, “Yeah. It was.”

Mark is rubbing circles with his thumb on the back of your hand and you momentarily wish that you could stay like this for a little longer. “Thank you for today. It was the best first date I could ever ask for.”

“Yeah? I’m glad. I had an amazing time too,” Mark replies, cheekbones evident on his chiselled face. “I always do, with you.”

You frown at him as an attempt to mask your frustration away. This boy was definitely something. “Right. Well, I should get going. Thank you for bringing me home.”

Mark nods but his hand remains unmoving in yours and you’re chuckling when you feel him give your hand a squeeze. Instead of prying his hold off you, you close the gap between the both of you and lean on your toes to plant a soft peck on his cheek. When you pull away with a smile, his grip on your hand loosen then and you take this opportunity to take your hand away along with the sunflowers. He’s blinking at you, taken aback by your actions just like the very first time you boldly kissed him.

“Good night, Mark,” you mumble bashfully and turn on your heels to walk away. It isn’t long before he’s calling your name again.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Would it be okay.. If I go to the hospital with you tomorrow?”

You smile gives your answer away even before you could utter a reply.

“I’d love that.”

—

“You never got to write on my cast,” you point out as you exit the hospital. You’re flailing your right arm around slightly, trying to get used to the sensation you didn’t feel for six weeks.

You feel Mark shrug beside you, “That’s okay. I still have plenty of sticky notes left.”

This makes you laugh and you shake your head at him. “Whatever you say.”

It isn’t long before Mark finds your right hand and laces it with his left. “It feels nice to be holding this hand.”

You raise a playful brow. “So my left one isn’t as nice?”

Mark chuckles and gives your hand a squeeze. “I’m just saying I’m going to be doing this much more often.”

You challenge him, scooting closer, “Because?”

Mark doesn’t respond, caught in between your playful question. The sun is shining up so high in the sky and there are no clouds present to intervene with the bright light. There’s a bubble of happiness bursting in his chest and he smiles ahead, growing all too familiar with the sensation.

“I guess this is the part where I confess, right?”

You whip your head towards him in a heartbeat. “What?”

Mark is trying not to notice your furrowed eyebrows as he continues to stare ahead. “You know, I think it was a good thing I broke your arm.”

You blink at him, confused. “What?”

Mark cranes his neck towards you to look at you. “Because it finally gave me a reason to talk to you.”

“Okay I’m confused,” you say defeated, halting in your steps and unlatching your hand from his. You cross your arms across your chest and wait for him to explain.

Mark chuckles at your actions and you could almost guess what he’s about to do next when you see a bashful smile playing on his lips; stuffing one hand into the pocket of his jeans and the other flies up to rub the nape of his neck.

“Okay, here goes nothing,” Mark starts. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you Y/N ever since... Probably ever since the first time I saw you walk through our anatomy and physiology lectures which was what? Like the start of this year right? And I know I should have just manned up and talked to you right there and then but I couldn’t bring myself to. I think I got scared and.. nervous.”

He pauses as he laughs awkwardly, recalling all the times he’d watch you carefully sit down in your favourite seat of the lecture hall.

“I was really really curious about you, not in a creepy way, trust me. I just really wanted to know you but I didn’t know how. It just so happened that I was late for class one day and ended up knocking you down with my bike.”

“So breaking my arm was a ploy to talk to me?”

“Y/N that’s not what I meant, I—“

You laugh at his reaction, heart fluttering at his cute confession. Mark still looks flustered and he’s averting his eyes everywhere but you and you find him even more endearing then. That’s when you take a step closer and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Well then, I thank you for being late to class that day,” you whisper. “The past six weeks have been the easiest for me despite the broken arm.” You smile to yourself when you feel Mark’s arms wrap around your waist. “And I guess this is the part I confess too? I like you too, Mark.”

Mark doesn’t say anything. Instead, he tightens his arms around you and buries his head into the crook of your neck.

—

Week seven.

Over the week, your texts and calls with Mark become more frequent and he no longer waits until Friday to take you out on dates, managing to squeeze in picnic dates in between free periods and staying back after lectures to study together in the library. If Mark was sweet before the confession, he was even sweeter after telling you how he felt about you.

I really really like you.

You look really pretty today.

Well— you always do.

But yeah, I can’t believe you like me too?

Like wow.

You give Mark an incredulous look when your eyes fall onto the set of green sticky notes he had plastered on your book in a span of two minutes. How could you even manage to study when he was being like this? Mark only smiles at you innocently before training his eyes onto his book again. Shaking your head in disapproval (even though you adored each one of his quick notes), you resume on typing your half finished essay. Not even ten minutes into your work, you feel Mark scurry to write another note on his small pad. Ten seconds later, he sticks it right on the screen of your laptop, right where you can see it straight away.

Scratch that. You’re beautiful. I hope you know that.

—

“I remember that one time, I dropped my pencil case in the middle of the corridor and you picked it up for me as you were passing by,” Mark says, adjusting your bag on his shoulder. “And even then, I couldn’t say anything to you.”

You laugh and play with the stem of the sunflower in your hand, one that Mark had given you after meeting you when your lectures ended. “But why? Am I that intimidating?”

“No,” Mark says. “I told you, I was just always so nervous around you.”

You laugh playfully and nudge his shoulder. “Are you still nervous now?”

Mark smiles and stops for a moment, “You have no idea.”

You sigh exasperatedly turning your whole body to face him. “Mark you’re making me flustered. Stop that,” finally expressing a fraction of how he really made you feel.

“Stop what?” Mark teases.

“That thing you do. I don’t know what it’s called,” you say with hand motions. “Did you know you have a way with words?”

Mark shakes his head, feigning innocence, enjoying the sight of the pink shade on your cheeks. “That’s a first. But maybe because I’m with you?”

You close your eyes briefly to collect yourself because right now you were absolutely melting and it didn’t look like Mark was going to stop anytime soon. “You’re enjoying this too much aren’t you?”

Mark shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him as you hold the sunflower in front of him. This was the fourth sunflower of the week and although you loved every single one, you couldn’t help but be curious.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why sunflowers? I know you said they remind you of me, but I want to know how.”

Mark shifts his gaze on the yellow flower before fixating his gaze on you, eyes smiling.

“Sunflowers make me happy whenever I see them. And that’s exactly how I feel when I see you,” Mark replies straightforwardly, as if it was the one thing he was most sure about in the whole world.

You silently regret asking because you weren’t prepared for what he was actually about to say. You should know by now; Mark always always had a way with his words.

“Cheesy right?” Mark chuckles, mentally reprimanding himself for being so smitten by you to the point where this side of him shows involuntarily.

You shake your head, giving him a smile.

“It’s not cheesy, Mark. It’s sweet.”

4K notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 6 years ago

Text

The Edge of Thirty - Part 7

Summary: Everyone seems to be getting married, having babies, or “growing up.” Except Y/N. Suddenly at almost thirty, reality seems to be crashing down on her – and hard. Nothing seemed as daunting as turning thirty…until she met Gwilym Lee anyway.

A/N: Hiya! Thanks for reading and supporting this story. I hope you enjoy! Please note there are a lot of up and downs in this chapter and more to come! Also, if tags aren’t working please let me know, or if I’ve accidentally forgotten to add (my b)! Taglists are open! xx

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: language, angst (?)

MASTERLIST

“You…what?” Y/N was stunned by his words as they hung in the air, heavy and thick with the anticipation of response. She had heard them loud and clear, but for some reason couldn’t process them. It had been long, so long, almost in an other lifetime, that she had last heard those very same words. Gwil opened and closed his mouth wordlessly a few times, unsure if he should repeat the words. A concerned look crossed his features as she stared at him, “you’re in love with me?”

“Yes,” he confessed and he felt like he was in church, a sinner professing all his dark secrets to the priest, “I-I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ve gone and fucked everything up.”

“I’m…no,” she shook her head fervently, wishing she could get him to see it was her and not him that was the issue. She dabbed at her already puffy, red eyes. There was a moment of tense silence, so thick you could have cut it with a knife. She finally brought her eyes to his, “it’s not your fault. It’s me as always. You shouldn’t love me. You can’t love me.”

“You don’t choose the people you love, Y/N. That’s not how life works. That’s not how any of this works,” he let out a long, shaky breath. How he wished she could herself through his eyes. She had so much to offer, but for whatever reason she refused to see it, “it just happens. I don’t know what possessed me to go to sit at that bar that night, I’m glad I did. Because I met you - completely by accident, but I know it was meant to be.”

“You know nothing,” she said quietly, her voice cracking as the words spilled out of her mouth. He looked taken aback but her short response, his own ocean eyes looking they were about to spill over with tears, “you don’t the terrible person I am. You don’t love me. I think you should go home now.”

“How can you know how I feel? You’re acting like a child, Y/N! Just listen to people for once. So, what now?” he asked, taking a step back, her reaction hitting him hard. He was usually in check of his emotions, but was suddenly more volatile today. He hadn’t been to lose his temper like that, but even he couldn’t help it sometimes. She bit down on her lip, almost drawing blood as she stared at him, “is this the end? You’re just going to throw everything away now?”

“Gwil - I don’t know what you want me to say right now,” she reluctantly opened the door further, indicating that it was okay for him to come in. She wasn’t in the right state of mind at the moment by any means, but she didn’t need to cause a scene either.

“I want you to say no. I want you to tell me not to walk away,” there was a slight desperation in his voice, as he held up his hands in exasperation, “I want you to tell me that you want me and this hasn’t been some sort of joke to you.”

“This was never a joke, Gwilym!” she immediately jumped onto the defensive, tried to keeping her voice down and not incur the wrath of her tired neighbors, “my feelings for you are genuine and I’ve promised you that.”

“Then why won’t you let me in?” he seemed a bit calmer now, running a hand throw his brown locks as his nostrils flared. She looked between him and the door, jerking her head inside. He let out a breathy half laugh, “that’s not what I meant. I meant it metaphorically.”

“I’ve asked you to be patient with me,” she insisted quietly, feeling more like a child getting scolded than anything else. She flicked her eyes to his, and he seemed to be suffering from an internal dilemma.

“And I have been, and will continue to be,” he insisted. You didn’t move and he took a step back at your nonverbal answer, “but you need to start opening up more to me. I don’t care about your past, Y/N. You can tell me whatever, and I’m not going anywhere. But what you’re doing now, it isn’t working for me.”

“Gwil-”

“I-I’m not saying that you have to say you love me,” he let out a long breath, “but I’m also not going to stick around if you keep pushing away and acting like a scared little girl every time something happens or someone shows you the slightest bit of affection.”

“Please,” she almost whispered, taking a step into the hallway. This was not what she had wanted at all - she wanted to him to stay. But it was still incredibly hard to just completely open up to him, “please don’t walk away.”

“I love you, Y/N, I do. But I’m not going to stick around while you close yourself off to me,” he replied sadly, “maybe I just need to leave for a while. Maybe you do need to…grow up a little bit. Maybe this isn’t going to work.”

“Gwil,” she called out to him as he started to walk away, a worn and tired expression on his gestures, “don’t walk away! If you do then don’t ever bother coming back!”

He stopped for a moment, his shoulders tensed and it appeared he’d turn around and come back. But he didn’t. He kept walking down the hall, in complete silence, disappearing into the elevator without another word.

Y/N stared after him wordlessly, wishing she’d have a dash of courage and sprint after him, even if she had to chase him out of the building and track him down. But she didn’t. She remained rooted in her spot, staring down the hall for long after he had been gone, tears trickling silently down her checks and falling soundlessly to the floor. She knew immediately that she had fucked up. She’d let the best thing that happened to her walk away without so much as a struggle.

The next several days were spent in a alcohol induced stupor, as Y/N downed copious amounts of anything and everything she could find in her cabinets. Her phone had remained on do not disturb, and she hadn’t done much besides getting up to get a few bites of food here and there, to be chased down with a cocktail. She hadn’t showered or changed, knowing she was a dirty, smelly, mess, but at that point what did it matter?

Her friendship with Ben was over, her career was all but down the drain, and she had chased Gwil away and told him never to come back. She found no point to much of anything, so she remained steadfast in bed, watching Netflix between her naps.

“Y/N?” a soft voice next to her startled her awake, as she rubbed the bleariness from her eyes, trying to figure what was going on. Turning her head, she looked towards the doorway and saw a figure in her doorway. Her head was pounding with the onset of a hangover as she looked as she tired to figure out who it was.

He walked closer to her, dismayed at the sight of her. She looked half out of it, hair messy and bedraggled, as she shielded her eyes from the sun that filtered into the room. She narrowed her eyes and slowly recognized the figure as Ben. He leaned down and kneeled next to her bed, reaching out a hand and running it over her cheek gently.

“What are you doing here Ben?” she croaked out, her throat dry and parched from the the burning alcohol. She hadn’t said so much as a word out loud since her self induced state of shut in. He gave her a pained look as he opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off, “you hate me, why bother? How did you even get in?”

“We have copies of each other’s keys, love, or have you already forgotten that?” he asked quietly, pulling out the small metal piece from his pocket, twisting it between his fingers before shoving it away. She closed her eyes and groaned, pulling the covers over head, praying he’d take the hint and leave, “Y/N, I don’t hate you. I could never hate, ever, hate you.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” she sighed from underneath the covers. Ben lifted a gentle hand and pulled the covers back, all but forcing her to look at him. His expression was so soft and gentle, it almost broke her heart and brought on a wave of emotion, “Ben-”

“Shh,” he commanded quietly, “we can talk later but firstly, you’re getting out of bed and showering. You look, and smell, full offense intended, like death.”

“I haven’t been up too much lately,” she admitted with a sigh, trying to drown out the slowly increasing pounding in her head. Ben’s eyes swept the room and he took in all the empty bottles and glasses that had contained liquor. He let out a sigh before meeting her eyes, “yes, yes, I know what it looks like. It was exactly what it looked like.”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that’s not a good idea to live off of liquor and instant ramen?” he took her hand and slowly hoisted her out of the bed, helping to steady her as she swayed on her feet. Clinging onto him, she murmured a word of thanks as he pulled her along in the direction of the bathroom. He was muttering under his breath about the mess, but she was too worn out to care.

“Slow down Benny,” she pleaded, feeling woozy from her impending hangover combined with the lack of food. She was glad that her neighbors had agreed to keep Deacon for a few more days - she would have been ashamed to have him with her, “I’m not feeling super great.”

“Self inflicted damage doesn’t get you an out,” he grabbed a towel from the linen closet and shoved it at her, “it’s time to pull yourself together and sober up. No more alcohol induced exile for you, love, it’s time to reenter the world of the living.”

“Must I?” she groaned as he flicked on the bathroom light and ushered her inside, turning on shower and turning it to scalding, just like she liked. The adamant expression on his face, combined with a cocked eyebrow, suggested that he was dead serious and there was no point in arguing with her. She started to strip and he exited the room, closing the door almost completely to give her some privacy, “what about clean clothes?”

“I’ll bring you some,” he called back to her, “just worry about showering and make sure you get every inch clean. Otherwise I’ll keep you in there and do the job myself, and I won’t be as kind.”

“That’s weird, Ben!” she rebutted as she stepped into the stream of hot water. It almost burnt, the hot water hitting her skin in a sharp contrast to the coldness that she felt. It was almost hard to keep her balance as she closed her eyes and started to shampoo her hair. This hangover was going to be killer, but hopefully it would be the last one she’d experience for a while.

“Clean clothes,” Ben announced as he came back inside, dropping the items onto the counter. He paused for a moment, shifting his weight awkwardly between his feet, “hey - are you going to be okay?”

“Who’s asking? Ben or Dr. Jones?” she called back, massaging her scalped thoroughly before starting to rinse her locks, scrubbing away all the bad memories of the last several days.

“Ben,” he replied quietly, clutching onto the door frame. A light smile was on his face; at least he knew she wasn’t completely gone with the sass she was giving him.

“I’ll be okay,” she replied, starting to condition her tangled mop of hair, “as far as taking a shower goes anyway. Otherwise, who knows. A-are you going to stick around?”

“I’ll be here for you,” he replied in a soft tone before exiting the bathroom and closing the door. He meant it both literally and metaphorically, much as he always had. They had been best friends for years and it would take a lot more than a few silly spats to break them apart. Gazing around her apartment, he let out a low breath before deciding to start cleaning up. It was the least he could do, or so he figured.

“Hey, look at you, finally resembling a person again,” Ben smiled as Y/N emerged from the bathroom, shaking out her damp hair, trying to comb through the last of the remaining knots. She suck out her tongue at him before plopping onto the opposite side of the couch. Even though she’d never admit, she felt much better than she had, it really was amazing what something as simple as a shower could do, “how are you feeling?”

“Physically? Like shit. Mentally? Also like shit,” she confessed, sinking lower onto the couch and grabbing the blanket off of the back of it to wrap around her body. Ben gave her a look, somewhere between pity and annoyance as she just shrugged her shoulders, “look, I know this is largely my own fault, so if you want to make a this a whole thing, please don’t.”

“I wasn’t going to say those words,” he admitted, even though he did want to partially yell out those words, “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You’ve been avoiding all of us for days, I know your phone is either on do not disturb or dead. A-and we didn’t exactly part on the best terms. I hate fighting with you, I hate leaving things on a bad note.”

“You shouldn’t have thrown me under the bus like that,” she said simply, reaching for the mug of tea he had set out for her, sipping on the hot liquid. As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. The corners of Ben’s mouth turned downwards into a frown, and his eyes shift downwards. She stretched out her leg and nudged him gently, “look I didn’t mean it like that...it’s just...how else was that supposed to seem to me?”

“I realize now that it all appears very bad, and like I wanted to put you on the line, but that was never my intention, love. You should know, after all these years, that I would never do that to you. What reason would I have for doing so?” he mused out loud, and she realized he was right. Hanging her head, she gave him a nod, clutching the warm mug of tea tighter to her chest in order to adsorb its warmth. She’d never do anything to bring him warm, so why did she so easily think he’d do that to her.

“I guess I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat like that,” she admitted, replaying the horrible scenes in her mind, “it was just a lot and I was angry, and then that jackass mentioned your name and I guess I just flipped. That’s probably what he wanted...I should have known. I walked right into his little trap.”

“It’ll be okay, Y/N, I didn’t tell him about what happened,” he explained, “and I would never. What happened stays between you and I-”

“And that student that was in your room! He’s probably gone and told everyone,” she groaned, anxiously running a hand through her hair, “I’ll be dead just because of that.”

“I’ve already had a talk with him,” Ben explained and she let out a long sigh of relief, “he’s okay, I trust him. You’ll be okay, Y/N.”

“Thank God,” she said quietly, “I’m sorry Ben, I’m so sorry...but can you explain to me exactly what you told Crickle? I just want to know, and that way if he asks I’ll know how to respond.”

“I was working late one afternoon, finishing some reports,” he began with a heavy sigh, “he came into my office and, well, you know how he gets. He all but forced me to stay as he started to go on and on about you.”

“What did he say?” she asked as she leaned forward, rapt with attention and hanging onto Ben’s every word, “as if I didn’t already know.”

“Just what you’d expect. Talking about how he’d heard from other teachers they saw you out and that some parents had seen you, and I quote, out on the town. He basically asked me what I thought about all of it,” he explained and Y/N could feel herself starting to grow angry again. Who was this one old man to judge her and try to conform her to his ideal image of a young woman? She wished she could go and smack his smug little face in, but controlled herself.

“So he was basically trying to tell you how much he hated me?” she rolled her eyes as Ben nodded, a sad smile tugging on his features.

“Bingo,” he confirmed, “I told him that I was your best friend, I trust you with my life, and what you do outside of work in way affects your work and has nothing to do with anything. And that I know how much your students adore you, because they do. That you’re an amazing teacher and person.”

“Y-you told him all of that?” she asked quietly, feeling tears start to prick at the back of her eyes. Naturally Ben had told Crickle all that. He was the one that was an amazing person, not her.

“I did,” he confirmed, a bobbing his head as she lunged herself across the couch, throwing her arms him, almost crushing him in her embrace. He was taken aback for a few moments before squeezing her back, resting his head in the crook of her neck, “if only you’d calm down sometimes and take a breath before reacting. This whole situation might have been avoided.”

“Oh,” she all but squeaked out, pulling back from, looking at his sage eyes. He wasn’t aware of the full story just yet, “there’s a little more to…all of this.”

“Ooh, love, what’s gone and happened now with Gwil?” he immediately asked, and she glared at him for a moment before they burst into a fit of giggles. She wondered how she could ever actually be mad at him; he knew her inside out, almost more than she knew herself.

“Ben, sometimes I wish you weren’t so brilliant, but other times I’m so thankful for it,” she jokingly pouted at him before playing with the edge of the blanket, where a few frayed strands poke out, “we go into a fight. I basically…not basically, actually, told him to leave and not come back.”

“What in the hell possessed you to do that!?” he was shocked, but a part of him wasn’t surprised. He knew this was hard for her, it was hard for her to open up to him at times still. But he had hoped that their talk would have shown Y/N that it was okay to let Gwil in. He knew she was in deep for him.

“He came over that night, after our little fiasco and I was already mostly drunk and he told me he was in love with me and I couldn’t handle anything,” she put her face in her hands as she replayed the scene in her mind. It had been a complete disaster, and the look on Gwil’s face had been enough to almost completely break her heart. She shouldn’t have let him go.

“He what!?” Ben almost yelled out as Y/N nodded slowly, taking a long sip of her tea. He was surprised, but not shocked in the slightest. The way things had been going with them, he knew it would reach a crescendo at some. And so it had, with him just simply confessing his love to her, “what did you say? Did you tell him you love him back?”

“I didn’t say anything!” she flailed her hands to demonstrate her point, almost spilling tea everywhere, “I panicked and told him he knows nothing! I pulled an Ygritte and basically made him Jon Snow!”

“You just…rejected him with a Game of Thrones quote?” Ben couldn’t lie it was a little funny, but the expression on her face suggested otherwise, “sorry, love, but it’s a little funny.”

“Yeah, well, the look on face suggested otherwise. He seemed so torn up, I regretted everything as soon as I said it,” she set the mug down and ran a hand over her face, “I just…no one’s said that to me in so long. And it just took me by complete surprise. I was already emotional, drunk, and then this. I know he meant well, and I know he meant it…”

“And?” Ben asked softly, causing her to look at him in question. He chuckled fondly – sometimes she was so oblivious about the obvious, “how do you feel about him?”

“I-I’ve never thought about it really,” she confessed, trying to assess her own thoughts on Gwil. Sure, he was the complete package: handsome, smart, kind, funny, and caring beyond measure. Simply put, he was amazing, and deep down she knew she had quickly fallen for him. Even at this point, trying to imagine a life without him involved was hard.

She yearned to have a future with him. Waking up to him in the mornings, kissing him till he woke up, feeling his arms draped her around her waist. To find him in the kitchen making dinner after a long day while he sang along to whatever was on Spotify, offering her a glass of wine as soon as she walked through the door. To have hold her when she was having a bad day, to whisper comforting so gently in her ear.

But she was wanted to give that all back to him too. She wanted to take care of him as much as he took care of her. She wanted to bring him breakfast in bed on a lazy Sunday morning. She wanted to be the one he turned to when there was no one else. She wanted to be everything he needed.

But the idea that she might not be was terrifying.

“Do you see a future with him? I know it’s a ways off, but what about marriage and a family? Could you see that with Gwilym?” Ben asked and her eyes immediately widened, “he’s made it pretty clear that that is his endgame.”

“Yes,” she blurted out before she even had time to fully process what she had just said. But it wasn’t a lie…it was true. She wanted a future with him, “I do…I want to be with him. I think I might…”

“Be in love with him?” Ben nudged her knee gently, and she nodded, trying to calm the fluttering in her stomach. It was her nervous and excited all at once. She loved him. She loved Gwilym Lee. He reached over and put his hand under her chin, tilted your face up so she was forced to look at him, “it’s okay to be scared, love. But you need to tell him. That’s the only way he’s ever going to know.”

“It’s too late, Ben, I fucked everything up with him,” she gave him a small, sad half smile, “besides, why would he take me back at this point?”

“Because he loves you,” he stated simply, “don’t you think Tessa and I ever have arguments and say things we regret? Because we do…no relationship is perfect. But it works because we love each other. You don’t turn away from the one you truly love.”

“What should I do?” she asked quietly, closing her eyes and wishing there was an easy solution. In reality there was - go to him and apologize and try to set things right. But it was much easier said than done. Ben smirked as he raised an eyebrow at her, “ugh, Ben, get that stupid look off of your face. I know, I know.”

“Go to him and apologize,” he stated and gave him a look of disdain. He was right but he didn’t have to be so smug about everything, “and don’t even think about mouthing off to me. You want to get him back and keep him? Go to him and be honest with him, completely honest.”

“What if it all blows up in my face?” she couldn’t imagine the feel of rejection. It would be too much to bear, especially from him.

“It won’t-“

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m a doctor and you should just trust me.”

“I don’t think it works like that.”

“It does. Trust me. And have some faith in him and yourself.”

“Okay,” she said, exhaling a long breath that she hadn’t realized she had been holding in, “I’ll go to him. Tell him I love him and that I’m a fucking fool, but I’m trying. And hopefully he won’t turn me away.”

“Atta girl,” he gave her a hand a quick squeeze, “he loves you. Nothing will go wrong.”

“Promise?” she asked meekly, stretching out her hand and extending her pinkie.

“Promise,” he hooked his finger around hers, squeezing it reassuringly and giving her a smile. At least she always had Ben.

Y/N heart felt like her heart was going to burst through her chest as she waited in front of Gwil’s door. Her stomach was nauseous, and she wasn’t sure if she was going to faint or throw up. Either was not a pleasant choice and she hoped it would the feeling would pass. Raising her hand, she paused just before knocking, contemplating just running away. But she didn’t. She was done running away from him, turning him away just because she was scared. It was time to conquer her fears.

Finally rapping her knuckles against the door, she waited with bated breath for him to answer. She heard him shuffling from inside the apartment, followed by the sound of his familiar footsteps, the medium sure-footed tread. He unlocked the door achingly slowly, pulling it open at a snail’s pace.

“Y/N?” he asked, surprised to find her standing on his doorstep, looking at him nervously as she held out a single flower in her hand. He looked as handsome as ever, and it almost wasn’t fair – how did he always manage to look so fine? His jaw was littered with more stubble than she had seen before, his hair not as coiffed, and even underneath his glasses she could see the dark circles, “w-what are you doing here?”

“I-I love you,” she stammered out, awaiting his reaction, whether it was good or bad, “and I wanted to apologize for all the things I’ve said and done. I shouldn’t have pushed you away, I should have opened and listened to you. I don’t want to lose you, Gwilym Lee, but I understand if it’s too late. But I just…had to tell you. I had to apologize at least.”

“Y/N,” he repeated quietly, his face going through a range of emotions as he tried to process what she revealed to him. It was eating her up inside; she hadn’t been quite sure of what his response would be, but she was hoping for a little more than this.

“Gwil,” she stuck out the flower to him and he gently took it from her, turning it over in his fingers, “I’m so sorry. If nothing else, just please forgive me.”

He remained silent for a few moments, seeming unsure of how to respond. But when he finally flicked his eyes up to hers, there was only a few seconds that passed before he crashed his lips onto hers and wrapped his arms around her, gripping her waist tightly. He kissed her feverishly for a few moments, which she eagerly reciprocated, before pulling back and resting his forehead against hers, “I love you, Y/N.”

“And I love you.”

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xoruffitup · 5 years ago

Text

AITAF’s 11th Annual Broadway Show

It’s surreal that this was my second year attending and I’m sitting here typing up a second recap! It hardly feels like a whole year has passed since last November, as the time has been so full of Adam and SW-related joy. After last night’s show, Sarah (the same friend I adventured to TIFF with) and I reflected that following/loving Adam has brought us so many extraordinary experiences we would never have sought out otherwise. Attending military-oriented events and creating stronger ties with the veterans and service members in each of our lives, traveling to Toronto (and shortly to London!!) together, and cultivating the most unlikely and incredible friendships. It’s been an eye-opening, whirlwind year of new and wonderful experiences - chief among which was sitting in a theatre largely full of military personnel and having each of my preconceived stereotypes challenged.

The group I gathered with outside the American Airlines theatre was even bigger than last year. We had my friends Sarah and MP ( @reylonly), my dad who usually abhors the “veteran” label and yet - to his own surprise - confessed to being deeply moved by last year’s show, a retired Army nurse and her husband, a cousin I hadn’t seen in ages who’s currently enlisted, and her two friends from the army. Our sizable group was first to queue up outside the theatre, with more than plenty to talk and catch up about while we waited.

(Fun/Amusing Fact: That enlisted cousin I hadn’t seen in ages? We reconnected ahead of this show when she messaged me on Facebook: “Hi! I heard from X family member that you like Adam Driver. I’ve attended AITAF performances before and I’ll be going to their NYC event, if you’d like to come as one of my guests?” Yes, that is my rep spreading through the family and you bet I’m proud. :’’))

We thought we had an idea what to expect from last year, but this year’s show surprised and took us off guard in almost every way.

After entering the theatre and passing right by Joanne (looking hella fierce in a fitted tweed suit), we headed up to the reception. Here came a surprise I was personally AMPED about!! While MP, Sarah, and I waited to go in the photo booth they had, we saw Scott Burns and Daniel Jones come into the reception area! I explained a bit in my TIFF recap post about how The Report (aside from being just a stellar film) really engaged me personally because not only do I have a human rights-related job, but the Executive Director of my non-profit is also renowned for being one of the first high-ranking whistleblowers against the CIA torture program when he previously worked in the Department of Defense. His name is Alberto Mora and after I heard Scott Burns namecheck him in several interviews, I talked to Alberto about his involvement in the film. From that conversation with Alberto came the idea to arrange a staff screening of the film, given its relevance to our nonprofit’s mission. In addition to seeing the film at TIFF, I also had the chance through work to attend the DC premiere of the film last week, attended by human rights advocates, House Representatives, and Senators (most depicted in the film - including Diane Feinstein herself!) who were all clearly riveted by the film and the discussion with Scott Burns and Dan Jones that followed. SO (sorry for this digression but I’M STILL SO EXCITED BY THIS) when I saw Dan Jones mingling, I practically started vibrating with everything I wanted to say to him.

After psyching myself up and angsting with MP for a minute (“But it’s gotta be the right time - I don’t want to interrupt him!”) I went over and introduced myself to Dan Jones, saying I’d been at the DC premiere of the film last week and how powerful the evening had been. Long story short - omg what a chill and approachable guy to talk to! I explained quickly that I work with Alberto and I’ve been looking into arranging a screening, to which Dan said he’d “absolutely love” to help with! He told me how to contact him and holy shiiiit now this definitely has to happen!!

So after that reception highlight, we ate a little more cheese and fancy crackers before heading downstairs to the theater and our seats. And there we needed to hold onto our hats and strain to remain chill, because like some Adam-related VIP guest list, we brushed shoulders with Noah Baumbach and Laura Dern as we entered the theater! WHATTT!! It certainly made my heart glad to see so many of these high-profile collaborators of Adam’s supporting him and taking an interest in his non-profit work. And just to see that they’re all friends even off set!

This year’s choice of play, A Raisin In The Sun, immediately set a much different tone than last year’s True West. While last year included a cast of only 4, with Adam and Michael Shannon lifting the majority of the performance as the brothers-at-odds Lee and Austin; this year included a cast of 9 almost exclusively African American actors, who would share the stage in a rotating balance. But before anything else... the show began with AITAF’s Director giving a rundown of their recent and upcoming programming, before she introduced Adam to speak. Annnnd out onto the stage he strode in a black suit and tie (pushing the boundaries of fashion for real) looking so striking and handsome my brain and heart jumped into an overdrive race with each other alsdfjslfjalsdfj :’)))) (Yes, the first moment when I see him in person still makes my heart fly up into my throat.) Most of the audience tried to leap to their feet to give him a standing ovation, before Adam quickly made some slightly panicked abortive hand gestures and everyone sat back down. We were seated so close to the stage that that proximity was really the best kind of intense <3333

First of all, I want to assure everyone that our bb does look like he’s gained some weight back. I think his face looked a bit more filled out than at TIFF (and boy did he fill out that suit just right). Adam recognized all of the active service people and veterans in the audience, thanked the actors and AITAF staff for making the evening possible, and gave his background speech on AITAF’s purpose, journey, and mission. He also spoke a bit about the play that was selected this year, quickly adding “I’ll let the play speak for itself rather than butchering it with my interpretation.” Everyone laughed and my heart was only barely beating under the adoration because at the same time I was getting such a good look at just how big he is, being so close... Not only the height, but the shoulders in the suit and the giant hands that fly around when he’s talking, then he stuffed his hands into his pockets for part of his speech and that just made him look taller and more attractive and alsdkfjalskdjf sir you should really take my health into consideration a little bit!!! ;___;

Fangirl feels meltdowns aside, there were a lot of other beautiful things happening on that stage. It was stirring to listen to Adam introduce the cast (and pronounce all of their names correctly, thank you) with all the deference this play deserves and a cast to do it full justice. In a setting where the audience was largely comprised of a military demographic that is often considered to embody more conservative values, it was poignant to see Adam using his platform in AITAF to push the narratives further and confront the audience directly - not with what separates people, but to draw out the humanity that makes us all so very alike. That is, after all, AITAF’s guiding mission.

Skipping ahead for a quick moment - one of the actors in the talk-back after the performance brought up how difficult it had been to fund this play when it was first produced in 1959 because investors feared it was “too black” and wouldn’t resonate with audiences. Last night was the most blatant demonstration of how close-minded such fears were, as the almost three-hour long reading kept the audience entirely enthralled, caught up in the humor and the heartbreak and the enduring human spirit that keeps the Younger family’s pride and love for each other in tact; then followed by audience members standing up to share deeply personal and candid accounts of how they saw their own struggles with searching for identity and purpose between military-civilian spheres, and their own experiences of trauma reflected in these complex, lively characters.

As much as I so enjoyed internally flipped my shit completely getting to hear Adam speak in person at the beginning, it made me more proud than ever to love him as I do when I watched him step back and pass the stage and spotlight to an insanely talented cast of color. AITAF is a force and space that aims for all voices to be heard, and Adam appeared only just enough to underscore and enable that last night.

I hope I’ve already made the point that the cast were simply phenomenal. This year’s performance felt completely different than last year’s in terms of the energy and mood. Last year, Adam and Michael Shannon filled two hours with simmering frustration and aggression that grows increasingly outrageous until it culminates in violence. Adam and Michael moved freely around the stage a lot. I’ll never forget Adam doing handstands, collapsing to his knees right at the front of the stage and his lush long hair falling everywhere (UGH <3), Adam yelling about toast and stealing TVs, barking like a coyote, and finally choking Michael in the final scene. This year, the 9-person-strong cast barely moved from behind their script stands, and yet the emotional impact they delivered was simply stunning. The immediacy of this reading-style performance is just incomparable. I do see a lot of theatre and really enjoy the medium, but watching actors like last night’s cast put on a performance that’s completely uninhibited - completely instinctive and raw - was simply unforgettable. It cuts straight to the emotional core and deepest layer of meaning within the material and the characters. There is nothing between the audience and the existence of these characters’ lives, and the actors lost themselves in the roles completely. It was simply breathtaking to watch, and I couldn’t be more grateful for the opportunity to witness it. Falling in to the Adam bandwagon truly enriched my life in ways I could never have expected

While on the topic of things I couldn’t have expected: Chief among them would be (to be painfully honest) voluntarily attending an event geared for military audiences - and even less enjoying and feeling moved by every second of it. I should probably clarify that although my Dad is a National Guard vet, he rarely speaks about the experience because he was drafted straight out of high school. The memories aren’t easy for him when he knows how close he could have been to being sent to Vietnam; alongside (he admitted to me for the first time following last year’s AITAF show) some amount of guilt towards the friends who were sent and lost their lives. My Dad has never embraced the veteran identity - he felt neither a right nor an affinity to it - and a military settings isn’t one I ever pictured myself feeling comfortable in. And yet, a single AITAF performance was enough to achieve their goal in my heart of building bridges and highlighting commonalities between military and civilian spheres. The military identify is multifaceted, and attending last year’s performance was enough for my Dad to unlock some new acceptance or understanding of that aspect of his own identity. It seemed to let him think of that period in his life in ways beyond antipathy or guilt. It was at least enough for him to open up and speak more candidly to me about his experience than ever before.

This year’s Q&A was moving, deeply personal, and at times painful. And yet there was truly no better showcase for how a shared experience of theatre can serve to knock down all barriers that might have existed between people when they entered that theatre only hours before.

Highlights:

A man who recently ended his service spoke about how much he connected to the character of Walter Lee in the play. Like Walter, he too feels restless and unfulfilled in his (civilian) job, always feeling like he should be striking out for something more meaningful, something bigger, and never feeling right in his current place. For the audience member, this resonated with his own struggle to find meaning in his civilian life as he navigates the transition of leaving the military. This moved the actor who played Walter Lee (Colman Domingo, who had been TERRIFIC - I mean full-on crying several times throughout the reading) to speak about the personal inspirations and experiences he brought to embodying the character for this setting. Namely, trying to support his veteran older brother’s struggle with drug addiction. As Colman spoke candidly about how the experience with his brother had seeped into his performance, at least two other cast members dabbed tears from their eyes.

The most emotionally difficult and yet moving moment shared throughout the whole theater. A man in the balcony asked for advice on finishing a play that he began writing as a means of trying to process and work through unresolved trauma he experienced in combat zones while deployed. He explained with something of a despairing tremble in his voice that he’s reached a point where he feels emotionally blocked - where confronting the memories of comrades dying in his arms simply freezes him and he can’t seem to move any further. The theater was silent as he had to pause speaking for a moment, audibly overcome for a moment in the effort of speaking and sharing this aloud. Since the speaker was up in the balcony too far back for me to see, I was watching the cast and AITAF team on stage. Being so close, I thought I saw something visibly pass over Adam’s face. Later that evening, the cousin I just reconnected with at this event was the one to bring it up unprompted when she asked, “Did you see his eyes when the man was talking about his struggle to write?” So yes, it’s confirmed, I wasn’t imagining that Adam visibly choked up for a moment listening to this audience member. After the commenter was able to finish speaking, a few cast members responded. Adam, after being silent for most of the Q&A, then held his hand out for a mic and spoke up, telling the audience member something like, “In a way, you’re already doing it. You’re already writing. You’re already processing. I don’t think anyone knows what they’re setting out to write or how it will take shape until they do. But you’re already doing the hardest part.” Then, in a touching moment of connection, another audience member spoke up about a veteran writing group he’s involved with whose members seek to do exactly the same thing. The safe space the questioner was so dearly seeking did, in fact, already exist, and the people were there in that theatre to help guide him towards it.

I didn’t think anything could have equaled my experience at AITAF’s 10th Anniversary show last year - and yet, last night was every bit as powerful of a performance, followed by a Q&A discussion in which audience members bared revelatory vulnerabilities and saw their own struggles through the eyes of others. My group went to a late dinner afterwards, where we continued discussing the performance, the dialogues thereafter, AITAF’s work in general, and (my favorite) gendered attitudes and embedded patriarchal norms within military settings and how AITAF challenges these norms even while being forced to work within them.

It was an evening of connections of all types - between people, experiences, and insights. I can’t laud AITAF enough for enabling such valuable and productive exchange, and I hope to experience much more of their work in the future.

(And if performed with a showcase or even a side of Adam, that would be even better! <3)

Thanks so much for reading! : ))

#Adam Driver #AITAF #Arts In The Armed Forces #Broadway #driverdaily

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rainbows-fanfics · 6 years ago

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Can you do a Louistine/Clouis fanfiction where Clem is hurt/ haven’t slept in a while and is sleep deprived and doesn’t tell anyone and Louis finds out and help her? Please I love Louistine and there are barely any Oneshots about them :,)

I wrote this along with an idea I’ve always wanted to do(even though it’s been done before). Sorry for how long it took to get to your request, anon! But thank you so much for the prompt! I’m having difficulties getting enough Clouis inspiration right now…

Louis’ P.O.V.

I like to think of code names for situations I don’t know what to do in. It gives me a sense of validation with the impression that if I name something, I clearly know what I’m doing. Even though I really don’t. Like when we were expecting that raider attack - I didn’t tell anyone, but that was secretly operation ’Impending Deaths’. I named that one last-minute when we were all fearing for our lives that night.

Right now, I had another code name, as I was faced with another situation I had absolutely no idea what to do in. It may not be as life-threatening as Operation Impending Deaths was, but it was keeping me on edge and, for moments at a time, I just couldn’t think straight. I hated coming off as too desperate at times, but right now I was missing something. Well, not someTHING, but someONE.

It was operation ‘Finding Clementine’.

It feels like I’ve been searching for hours when, really, I know it’s only been 10 minutes. What originally was a quick trip to ask whether she’d want carrots or potatoes in her stew tonight turned into a mission. I couldn’t find her in her room, in the dorms, in the courtyard, and in a rushed attempt, not even the greenhouse. I was tempted to search in the roads or the forest but after asking everyone, they reported Clem hasn’t left the school. To their knowledge, at least.

It was a good sign when I found A.J. with Tenn on lookout. He told me she left to take care of something. Where? He didn’t know. So here I am now - pathetically searching every inch inside of these walls calling out her name trying to find her. The mission was growing more serious the longer I went on.

I finally came to the basement and shut my eyes for a moment, remembering the mess that happened in here. I opened them again and pulled on the doors slowly, finding the darkness past the steps a little intimidating as I called out her name for the 200th time.

“Clementine? Are…you in here?”

…

Snap!

I jumped back in surprise when I heard what sounded like a rubber band snapping come from inside. I began to climb down the steps and took a weary look around. There was light down here, but it was past the boiler and the shelves. I gripped my weapon behind me as I slowly followed the trail, shivering when I saw the pool of blood I passed. I didn’t like coming down to the basement for this exact reason. This shit was always scary.

“Ugh…fuck…”

I felt literal music come to my ears when I heard Clem’s voice. Even if it sounded agitated, it did wonders to my heart as I discarded Chairles and rushed to find her. I found she was leaning against the wall messing with her arm, her eyebrows drawn together and her lips curled into a snarl of disgust. When she saw me come, she hid her arms behind her back and changed her expression into a surprise one.

“Oh, Louis. I didn’t see you there.”

“I’ve been looking for you. Why are you down here?”

She fluttered her eyelashes as she looked around, moving her other arm to a random box and tapping it. I noticed she didn’t have an immediate response, as if she hadn’t been expecting the question. She drew her eyes back to me and shrugged lightly, tapping her fingers against it and watching as the dust came off.

“I was just…looking for something. I, uh, found it.”

“Well, what’d you find?”

“…”

“A ruler.”

“…What’d you need a ruler for?”

“A.J.” I gave her a dumbfounded look. “For his drawing. He needed to make a straight line.”

“Okay, 1. You’re a terrible liar, 2. I’ve seen the kid draw, he doesn’t worry about those types of things, and 3. There’s no ruler around you in sight.”

“Look, I- agh! Shit…”

I hunched down by reflex when she took a sharp intake of breath, baring her teeth and swearing with a hiss. She slowly removed her arm from her back and clutched the spot I found her messing with earlier. I got closer to her until she held up her hand when I was only a few inches away. I turned my head to the side and found a nasty wound she had on the inside of her arm. I could see the blood and forming infection of the scrape.

“Damn! That shit looks horrible.”

“Thanks, Louis, I didn’t know.” She retorted sarcastically.

I brushed past her hand and grabbed her arm for myself, feeling her try to draw back as I tightened my grip. Just looking at her laceration caused me to breathe through my teeth. I wondered when the hell this happened - when she was out last time or if this came from the struggle of the raiders. It looked fresh, but that was all I noticed before she pulled it away.

“I was trying to patch it up. Using some supplies I got from inside.” She looked at it and frowned. “Using one hand without a table is a lot more difficult than I thought…”

“Why didn’t you ask for help? Ruby and Tenn are great at this.”

“It’s just a little cut. I didn’t want to worry or burden anyone.” She attempted to treat it again. “Besides, I’ve had worse.”

“Uh, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get help when you need it. Willy scraped his arm on the concrete one time and Ruby helped him with no problem.” I took her arm again and grabbed the bandages she was attempting to use. “At least let me wrap it for you.”

“That’s fine, I guess. I already put some stuff on it.”

Without fighting me again, Clementine allowed me to bandage it for her. While I did this, I couldn’t help but think. If she didn’t want to bother ‘anyone’ with this, then that meant she didn’t want to bother me, either. But it could really matter less to me what injury she has - she could have a paper cut and I’d still find something for it. It bothered me that she didn’t know this.

“Look, I get that you’re a badass and you can handle things, and a minor cut is not the end of the world-” I cut the end of the bandage. “-but just know that I’m here for you for anything. Not just to listen, but if there’s something you ever need, I can deliver. I’m not as good with medical stuff, but I’ll still try.”

She sighed with relief and returned her arm. “Thanks, Louis. It’s not a big deal. If it was, believe me, you’d have known.”

“Even the slightest thing such as a mud puddle in my Princess’ way is a serious situation.” I quipped. “I’d sacrifice my coat for you, you know.”

“Like you haven’t already.” She rolled up her sleeve and shook her head. A troubled look overcame her features. “Actually…there’s something else you can help me with. And don’t laugh when I tell you what it is.”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” I leaned back and crossed my arms in amusement.

“Can you cut my hair?”

“…”

“What?”

“Say that again?”

“Can you cut my hair?” Her tone turned stern. “I have to keep it short and it’s long again. I’d do it myself, but then it’d be lopsided. And I don’t want to hear the millions of questions A.J.’s going to ask me about my cut if he does it.”

“Well, yeah. I can do that. There should be a pair somewhere in the dorms - I think Ruby owns a pair. I’m sure she’ll let you borrow it.”

“Really? That’s great. I was going to use my knife, but that works a lot better.”

“…Just like she would’ve helped you with your abrasion there…”

“I don’t want to hear it, Prince Charming.”

———————————————

A pair of scissors in my hand and a couple minutes later, we’re now in Clem’s room. She grabbed the chair from the desk and slid it over to the middle of the room. When she takes a seat, my eyes widen when her hands come to her hair. I’ve seen her without her hat before, but I haven’t witnessed her without pigtails. My jaw naturally drops when she pulls them out and her hair falls down to her shoulders.

It was amazing, to say at the least. I grabbed it in my hands and felt its texture between my fingers. I separated a few strands of her brown hair. It reminded me of mine, but hers is a lot softer. The longer I take trailing my hands over it, the more I become mesmerized with Clementine’s hair. I forget all about the scissors in my hand and what she’s asked me to do. I take a step back and admire how it looks on her again. Then I went to feeling it again.

“Are you done with…whatever you’re doing?” She snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, right. Right.” I started clipping away. “Your hair looks…cute.”

She turned to glare daggers at me. I corrected myself weakly. “I meant it looks pretty. On you.”

She rollee her eyes before returning her head back to its former position. As I cut the ends of her hair, I noticed how tense and silent it is between us. I’ve only went to get my hair trimmed a few times before. Whenever I went, the stylists talked to me about random things. Should I do that now? Or bask in this rich, awkward silence?

“Gotta’ admit, I’m a little attached to your long hair now.” I pause. “…Why do you cut it?”

“Lee told me to keep my hair short. So walkers can’t grab onto it and get me.” She moves her head down to stare at her lap. “I had it long when I was a kid, and people have grabbed me by it before.”

“That makes sense. The pigtails make it harder to grab.” I snip at her sides. “Who, uh, gave you those bands?”

“…”

“..?”

“Lily.”

“Oh.”

The awkwardness resumes as things grow quiet again, no noises besides my cutting. It’s taking a lot longer than I presumed it would. These small scissors let me cut only a little bit at best. Was this really all we had? I could swear I’ve seen a bigger pair around before…

“So, uh, what do you do with…your hair?”

“Me?” I’m surprised at the question. “I grow it out. Keep it in dreads for the same reason. My hair does what it wants, really.”

“Ah.”

“…Is there any way specific you want me to cut it? I get you want it short, but didn’t people used to, uh, style their hair?”

“You can do whatever. I keep my bangs to the side, anyway. No one really notices since I’m wearing my hat all the time.”

“-Or to hide the horrible haircut your boyfriend is about to give you?”

“You can’t be any worse than Javier was.” She tittered. “I never saw it, but I could feel my hair was uneven and cut too short and too long at parts.”

I focus and look at my job so far. It’s exactly as she described. I begin to fix it, chuckling nervously as I do so. I think she notices because I hear her giggle again. I trim her hair until it reaches just at the start of the back of her neck. I take a step back and move her head straight so I can tell if it looks okay. Okay being mediocre, that is.

“Well, alright. I think we’re done here. And, um, don’t kill me if you don’t like it, okay?”

I watch with anticipation as she runs her hand through her hair and grab at certain parts. She feels around her neck where it once was before standing up from the chair. She brushes her bangs to the side and turns around to me slowly. I end up gawking at what I see - a Clementine with freshly-cut short hair surrounded by complimenting rays of sunshine behind her back. Her golden eyes glow as she looks up at me and smiles, making my heart thud against my chest as we both stand there.

“How does it look?” She asked.

I revel in the uncertainty of her voice. She appears very timid with this, as if my opinion would make or break the way she feels about her hair. When I realize I’m taking too long to answer and her smile starts to drop, I take a step forward and look at her with half lidded eyes.

“You look beautiful.” I tell her.

“R-Really?” Her eyes widen. I swear I see a blush on the ends of her cheeks.

“Would I really lie about my girlfriend’s appearance?” I ask her. “Well, yes, if you were covered in walker guts and you asked me how you smell. I’d reply, ’you smell just like lavender and dandelions, darlin’. And then I think you’d punch me.”

She laughs and nudges my arm. “Come on! I’m serious! You…really think I’m beautiful?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my girlfriend. And…you look amazing.” My breath is hot as I say this. “As for my job on your hair? Well, I’m naturally gifted. So that was a given.”

She smiles and pokes around her head. “Well, everything’s about even and I’m not bald anywhere. So I’d say you did a good job, too.” She stops and the frown drops, but when she gazes up at me, it grows back and her eyebrows raise slightly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Clem, I…you shouldn’t be afraid to ask me for help with this…stuff. Not just for cutting your hair and letting know how beautiful you are, but I’m here to support you. You know. Like you do with me.”

“Are you telling me you want a haircut, too?” She puts a hand on her hip coyly.

“We’ll see how much I trust you before I let you lift a hand on my precious dreadlocks.”

I brush my hands along them and close my eyes for effect. When I hear Clementine laughing in the background, both my chest and heart swells. She takes the bands and puts her hair in pigtails again, returning her hat in its place right over it. But even after all of that’s done, I still can’t get the image of her with her hair down out of my head.

She really is beautiful.

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