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hanniiesuckle17 · 5 years ago

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Stray Kids Reaction: S/o Falls Back Into Old Habits

A/n: so this is a more serious request! if any of my readers feel like they need to talk to someone (whether about this or not) my messages are always open to anyone and everyone. Also this did get a little personal for me, (Jisung’s is based on my personal experience)

Requested by: Anonymous

Warnings: (TRIGGER WARNING)Mentions of eating disorders, cursing

Tag List: @distrikt9 @mini-meanhoe @poeticallyspaghetti @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @yangomangos

Bangchan:

You had a history of not making the healthiest choices when it came to weight loss. It was a secret you kept to yourself. A secret you thought you wouldn’t have to deal with again. But, life sometimes throws stuff at you, and you can't help but fall back into old habits.

You knew Chan adored you. That didn’t mean hate comments got any easier to read. It was almost impossible to avoid them. Chan was always in the public eye, so it wasn’t long before your relationship was outed. At first, it was fine. Most of the Stray Kids fans accepted you; they wanted Chan happy.

Eventually, after all the commotion died down, anti-fans started to surface. They had found old pictures of you from high school and posted them with cruel comments. It was difficult with Chan away from home so much. You felt like you were alone, with no one to help guide you away from the dark places the comments were leading you towards.

The old pictures resurfacing reminded you of how you used to look when you were younger. It was easy to see the change in your body weight. You had started working through lunch. It was a simple excuse. It wasn’t a lie that your workload had doubled over the past week, though Chan was upset you skipped a meal, he understood.

But your old mentality started to creep back in. The next meal to go was breakfast. Chan was usually gone before you got up so he didn’t notice. What he did notice was you slowly losing your appetite at dinner. At first, he thought you were just a little sick. He made sure to stock up on medicine next time he picked up groceries. However, in your mind, you still weren’t losing the weight you wanted fast enough. Knowing Chan would freak if you stopped eating dinner you decided to hide a bottle of diet pills behind a couple shoeboxes at the top of your closet.

“Hey, Y/n? You wanna order a pizza?” Chan called from your bedroom. A pizza sounded divine. The sound of your stomach rumbling made you feel guilty. There was no way you would ruin this streak just for a pizza.

“Umm...you can! I ate a little earlier.” You called back. There was a moment of silence. You figured he was just picking up some dirty laundry or something.

“Baby, when did you eat? You didn’t have lunch with me and-”

Chan’s voice stopped all of a sudden. “I didn’t what?” You asked flipping through your phone. You frowned yet again coming across some hate comments. Sighing you tossed your phone onto the other side of the couch. “Babe?” You called still not hearing back from your boyfriend. Looking up you found Chan standing in the hallway holding a familiar white bottle in his hands.

“What the hell is this?”

Chan was angry. He was more than angry. He was pissed. He looked hurt when he tossed the bottle to you. “They are just diet pills, Chan.” His teeth dragged across his lip and his hands came to rest on his hips.

“No. Only half the bottle is left! Y/n this is dangerous. I know you’ve been skipping meals!” You flinched as Chan raised his voice. He noticed and came over to you. His hands wrapped around yours, shaking a little bit. “Y/n....I’m scared for you....I’ve been scared for you. You won’t talk to me. I know about the hate and the meals, but this? Baby. You’ve gotta talk to me.”

You looked at your boyfriend crouched in front of you, holding back tears. “Chan...it was just hard not to go back to bad habits. I’m so sorry.” Tears fell from his eyes hearing you speak. He dropped his head into your lap, still holding your hands tightly. He looked up, eyes puffy and red. His lips pressed against the back of my hand.

“I’m with you, yeah? I love you. I’m not going to let you do this alone.”

Minho:

Being a model was one of the best jobs you had ever had. It wasn’t as easy as everyone thought. You had great expectations put on you. At any given moment your agency could call you and say that you needed to drop fifteen pounds and chop off half your hair and you would have to do it to keep your contract.

Minho was used to your crazy weight-loss diets and coming home to you running on the treadmill with six coats on. He trusted you to be safe with whatever you were doing. He always checked in on you, even when he was away on tour.

Little texts making sure you were alright. Facetimes before he went to sleep. But, it was better having Mino home with you. Thankfully he would be home for the next six months.

The blare of your ringtone woke you up from a deep sleep. Minho was still sound asleep next to you and two of the cats were snuggled up at the foot of the bed. Seeing the agency as the caller id, you picked it up. They gave you the requirements for the job as well as the deadline. “Next week!” You exclaimed trying to keep Minho from waking up.

After a few more exchanged words you hung up the phone and lay in bed. “Twenty pounds?” You whispered to yourself. There was absolutely no way you could do this in time without not being healthy. But, the pay day was huge. There was no way you could pass up this gig if you wanted to make rent this month. The only problem would be Minho. He would totally scream at you if he found out you weren’t being healthy losing the weight.

Hell, the weight they wanted you to be wasn’t exactly healthy either. Your boyfriend stirred next to you, wrapping an arm around your middle. The next week you did everything possible to lose the weight. You skipped meals and you practically lived at the gym.

“Babe, have you eaten yet?” Minho said over the phone. He spoke to you on speakerphone as you ran with a hoodie on the treadmill in your apartment. You were three days away from your deadline with still five pounds left to lose.

“Yeah,” You said out of breath. Lie. “I ate a big salad a couple hours ago.” Another lie. You hadn’t eaten anything in the last seventy-four hours. He sighed over the phone. “What’s wrong, Minho?”

“Y/n we ran out of lettuce like two days ago, babe.”

Letting out a nervous laugh, you turned off the treadmill. “Minho.... I-uh...I ordered one-” You heard the line click. He hung up. “Oh fuck.” You said head in your hands. You shed the jacket and raced to your closet. You grabbed one of Minho’s big sweaters and threw it over your head. About ten minutes later the front door opened, Minho storming in throwing his stuff on the counter. “Hey! Did management let you off early-”

Without a word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of the apartment. The next thing you knew you were walking up the stairs of your agency. The two of you blew past your boss’s secretary. “What the fuck, man!?” Minho screamed bursting into my boss’s office. “Do realize you are driving my girlfriend slowly off a cliff? She could kill herself just trying to meet your expectations! LITERALLY.”

Your boss was completely shocked. He was at a loss for words. “This is not on Y/n. This is on you for making her feel like she ever had to feel like she had to use such drastic measure simply to please your patriarchal sexist ass.” You felt like crying seeing Minho defend you. It was true. It was your choice to skip meals, but mostly out of fear of the termination of your contract.

“Sir-”

“No. I don’t think you know who I am. One word from me to the press could ruin you in this industry for the rest of your life.” Your boss stayed silent. Clearly fearing for his reputation. “Now, you are going to let Y/n end her contract, with full compensation, on the grounds of employee abuse.” Minho narrowed his eyes, completely furious. “Got it?”

He nodded and Minho took your hand in his and led you out of the office. “Thank you, Min.” You whispered, kissing his shoulder.

“You’ve got to tell me, babe. I’m not gonna stand by while you are forcing yourself through this.”

Changbin:

Changbin wasn’t the most observant man on the planet. But, it was very hard to slip anything past him when it came to you. His job was demanding and took up far more of his time than either of you would like, but the man was clingy even from a distance.

You just dropped him off at the airport not four hours ago and he was already facetiming you. With Changbin gone, your apartment felt empty. The days seemed to blur together. Days flooded into nights and nights blended into early mornings. You were sad and missed him a lot. So you did the best thing you could think of to distract yourself was throw yourself into your work.

The tour was nowhere near its end and you were bringing more and more work home. You got into the bad habit of skipping meals and you barely ate anything for dinner, choosing instead to work. Most nights you fell asleep at your desk, having not eaten anything all day.

Changbin would call at all hours of the night, so caught up in tour life he had forgotten that it was three am where you were. You didn’t mind, however, the calls always ended with you missing him even more. If things were really bad you would go down to the bakery and eat an entire cake by yourself only to refuse food for the rest of the week.

“I’m so lonely here without you,” You said to the glow of your laptop screen. Changbin’s face filled the screen. He was barefaced and had a hoodie covering his messy hair. Seeing your boyfriend even just through a facetime call was a godsend. “It’s been really hard keeping it together. When are you coming home?”

He sighed. Clearly, he wasn’t handling the distance well either. “Four days.” Your head dropped into your hands. Four days. You could handle four more days. The question was could your body handle four more days? “Sweetie, you don’t look too good. Are you sure you are taking care of yourself?” Changbin looked seriously worried.

The internal struggle of whether to tell him or not was evident.

“Y/n, you can tell me anything. I’m worried about you.”

Your fingers raked through your hair. Changbin let out an anxious sigh. He knew silence from you was a bad sign. “I haven’t exactly been eating well lately.” His face grew somber.

“How not exactly?”

“Like....at all.”

“Y/n!” Changbin exclaimed. You were sure that he had woken up whatever boy he was sharing a room with. He broke seeing the shame on your face. How he had not noticed sooner was shameful to him. Your face was starting to sink in and dark circles lay under your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to bring up past problems I had and worry you with them. They are mine to deal with.”

Changbin shook his head. “I want to share your problems, sweetie. Your problems are mine and I’m glad to take them.” He paused simply looking at you with care. “Do you want me to come home? I’ll be on the first flight out?”

“I can’t make you do that. The boys and STAY need you.”

“You need me more right now.”

Hyunjin:

Your mother was lapping you. She was getting married twice. You weren’t even married once! It didn’t help at all that your mother was one of the most judgemental living on the planet. All her friends were a close second. She had been hounding you for years to get a boyfriend. She was always nagging on you to settle down and give her grandchildren.

Hyunjin coming into your life was the best thing that had ever happened to you. He made you feel fully yourself and even helped you out of some really bad habits that your mother had gotten you into. Hyunjin slowly helped you rebuild your self-esteem and you loved him more every day for it.

“Y/n, last time I saw you it looked like you had been putting on quite a bit of weight. I’ve already sent you the dress I want you wearing and you need to fit in it by the wedding. Am I clear?” The shrill voice of your mother filled the room. Why did you put her on speakerphone again? You looked at the lilac colored dress you were holding in the mirror. “Y/n?”

“Yes, mother. I understand.” There was no way you were fitting into this. She sent it to you this morning and the wedding was nine days away. It wasn’t surprising she pulled something like this. She always had impossible standards to hold you too. Having enough of your mother, you hung up the phone.

With a sigh, you grabbed the dress and tried to put it on. It was by far the most unflattering garment you had ever worn. You couldn’t close the zipper and it emphasized all the wrong places on your body. You could barely breathe in the tight fabric. Wiping stressed tears from your face, you shedded the frock. The choice of never giving down your mother's complaints or simply wearing a different dress were pounding against your skull.

If only Hyunjin wasn’t still on a dating ban. Then you could tell your mother how happy you were with him and she would stop hounding about your weight and appearance. But, that wasn’t the case. Only eight more months. Eight more months and you could shout about Hyunjin from the rooftops without a care. Until then, you had to lose a lot of weight as soon as possible.

As much as it hurt you to go behind Hyunjin’s back, you returned to your old habits, skipping most of your meals. It was easy to hide at first. Hyunjin would come home late from practice, so he didn’t find it unusual for you to have ‘eaten’ before him.

However, what wasn’t normal, was you getting dizzy spells. But you were so close to fitting in that dress you couldn't stop. Hyunjin was lounging on the couch, flipping through random channels. The edge of your vision started to blur out, making you clutch the counter for balance. Taking some deep breaths you focused on centering yourself. “Baby, you okay?” Hyunjin said, his voice laced with concern. He was already making his way over to you, hand finding the small of your back.

You pushed away from the counter to respond to your boyfriend, but your knees buckled under you. Hyunjin caught you, pulling you into his chest. “Oh shit- Y/n, baby. Look at me. How many fingers am I holding up?” Hyunjin held up three long fingers that looked more like five or six. You groaned, leaning into him.

Hyunjin, slightly panicking, pulled you over to the couch and laid you down. You watched him pick up his phone ready to dial emergency services. “Jinnie! No! Don’t. Really, I’m fine. It was just a dizzy spell.” He narrowed his eyes at you.

“You haven't had a dizzy spell since-” His words caught in his throat and he turned to you in shock. “Y/n...when was the last time you ate.” Your hands covered your face, rubbing your temples.

“I had a ramen cup. Don’t worry.”

Hyunjin involuntarily rolled his eyes letting out a frustrated huff. “I didn’t say what. I said ‘when’. ‘When’, Y/n!” He sighed seeing you struggle to think back on the past few days.

“I think....like two and a half days ago?” Hyunjin sighed, picking up his phone again. He walked into another room and returned about ten minutes later. You watched him walk to the kitchen and grab a Gatorade from the fridge. He placed it in front of you just as the doorbell rang. He ran a hand through his blonde hair as he took a huge bag from a man at the door.

“Eat. Drink.” He said placing the bag of takeout in front of you. He unwrapped the food and twisted the cap off the drink, placing it in your hand and lap. He had a worried look on his face as he watched you begin to eat. “I called your mom.”��

You immediately started choking on the food, giving Hyunjin yet another panic attack. “You WHAT?”

“I told her about us. I know the wedding and all her expectation is what is causing you stress. I told her to add me to the guest list and that you’re showing up in whatever you want to wear and that she better not say one word about it or else she’ll hear some choice words from me.”

Your eyes softened and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He nuzzled his face in your hair letting out a staggered sigh. “Anytime you feel like that, you’ve got to come tell me. I hurt when you hurt. I hurt even more when you try to keep me from helping you.”

Jisung:

Your stomach growled. In the past three days, you had eaten nothing but a couple crackers and a few pieces of cheese. College had been really rough on you lately. Classes were tough and you had resorted to stress eating while Jisung was away and working. It was even worse when he went off on tour.

Without him around your self-esteem was at an all time low. In your mind, it was only a matter of time before Jisung came back with a girl who was much prettier, much skinnier, and just....better...than you. It wasn’t easy to tell Jisung this. You had never really been great at talking about your feelings.

The sound of your cell phone buzzed against the kitchen counter. It was almost midnight so only one person could be texting you. Your hands swiped through the notifications until you could read the message. Jisung.

Hey bb! <3 Gonna be home late. So sorry :( don't wait up for me

You sighed and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. Your boyfriend was right, as much as you hated to admit it. There was no point in waiting up for him. The edge of your vision started to blur out so you shook your head and blinked a few times. “A hot shower would probably do me some good.” You said to the empty apartment.

Tossing your clothes in the hamper, you walked in your underwear into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Suddenly you felt dizzy, heat flooding the small room, fogging up the mirror. Your head started to spin. The orientation of the room seemed to flip upside down. You grabbed at anything knowing you were going to fall any second. The shower curtain came down with you, your head banging against the shower wall and then against the bathtub.

Black clouded your vision as hot water pelted down on you from the showerhead.

Jisung turned the lock of your shared apartment at about two in the morning. The first thing he noticed was the lights in the kitchen and bedroom were still on. He tossed his bag on the counter and set his phone down beside it. “Baby? You still up?” He called into the apartment. “Y/n?” He asked hearing the shower running.

He gently wrapped his knuckles on the door. After a few minutes of not hearing a reply, he started to get a little worried. “Y/n? Babe.” Slowly he pushed open the door and peeked his head into the bathroom. His eyes widened seeing you passed out shower curtain falling on top of you. “OH SHIT!”

Jisung burst into the bathroom and threw the shower curtain away from your unconscious body. He shut off the water and cradled your head away from the shower wall. As gently as he could he picked you up and set you on the bed the both of you shared. “Fuck. My phone. Where’s my phone?” Jisung scrambled, running out of the bedroom. He was frantic.

“911. What is your emergency?” The calm voice of the operator spoke to him.

“My girlfriend. She uh--....fuck. She fell in the shower. I don’t know. I just came home. I think she hit her head.” Jisung ran a stressed hand through his hair, his feet carrying him back to the bedroom. He nodded at the operator's instructions and kept them on the phone as he grabbed one of his shirts from your closet to cover you up.

The paramedics arrived and loaded you up in an ambulance. Your heavy eyes opened slowly and you looked around the back of the emergency vehicle. It hurt to turn your head, which was still making you feel dizzy. Jisung sat beside you, holding your hand tightly, head down, and tears falling down his cheeks. “Jisung...” You croaked out.

His head shot up and he didn’t even bother trying to hide his tears. “Baby! Oh, thank god! Y/n you scared me half to death! What the hell happened?” He held your hand tightly, kissing along your knuckles.

“I’m so sorry, Ji....I only meant to skip a couple meals. I thought...I thought I had it under control.” You continued to ramble trying to make sure the words were coming out the way you wanted. Jisung looked heartbroken next to you.

“Y/n....you can’t...fuck...I love you so much. You’ve gotta tell me this stuff, okay?” He said choking up. You had never seen him so upset, so broken. “I can’t lose you. You’re perfect to me always.” You nodded, tears falling down your own cheeks.

“I’m so sorry-...I’m so sorry. I should have told you...”

Felix:

After being a trainee since you were fourteen, you had picked up an unhealthy mindset about your body image. The weekly weigh-ins your company put you through always had you watching your weight down to the ounce. There had been several incidents regarding your health and some unhealthy weight choices, thankfully they hadn’t been leaked to the press and your company covered it up. Felix had been your friend since you debuted and you had been dating for almost a year and a half. The two of you kept it a secret since both of you were still under a dating ban. Felix was always there for you when you needed him. Even if that meant him coming to find you in a broom closet because you were having a rough time and needed a hug.

Comeback season was always a rough time for the both of you. His group was busy, your group was busy. There was hardly any time to see each other. Promotions were even worse, especially for you. You felt like you had to constantly watch what you were eating since there were cameras all around you. You limited you food intake to one small meal a day, choosing to drink lots of weight loss shakes and water instead. Your secret diet plan had been working for years. You hadn’t had an incident since debut.

Your stomach growled as you looked in the mirror. “Y/n, did you eat?” Your leader asked brushing extra blush across her cheeks. You shook your head, knowing your voice would waver if you tried to lie.

“I’ll get something after the performance.”

The sound of other performances were playing on the music shows backstage TV. The skirt you were wearing was squeezing your stomach the fabric unbearably tight. “Girls, you’re up next! Stray Kids is after you. Backstage in two.” A stagehand said popping into the room then quickly exited. The members of your group started filing out of the room, heading backstage.

Stray Kids were waiting backstage already. You waved at Felix in the dark as you all came to stand next to them. You felt yourself get hot all of sudden and the room was beginning to tilt. The heels you were wearing made it a little more difficult for you to catch your balance.

You felt a hand on your back, steadying you. Felix appeared behind you, a concerned expression on his handsome face. “You okay, darling?” You nodded and brushed a bead of sweat from your forehead.

“Yeah. Just got a little dizzy for a second.”

Felix still looked concerned but gave you a quick kiss on the cheek after making sure no one was looking. “I’ll see you after your performance, darling.” He whispered in your ear before sending you onstage. Your group got in position and started performing your new song. Your head was spinning and you felt like you were going to pass out under the white hot stage lights.

The lyrics to your part of the song came out breathy as you danced in the center. It was evident you weren’t giving your one hundred percent, but you smiled through the pain you were feeling. You let your face fall as you transitioned to the back. If you could just hold on until the song was over.

In the middle of the dance break, your body couldn’t take it anymore. Your eyes rolled back in your head and you crumpled onto the floor, your body had been running on zero fuel for too long and gave out. The gasps of the audience stopped the performance and your group members froze in place. You felt someone run next to you and turn you over. You dazed eyes looked up to see Felix, fear plastered all over his face.

“We need to get her to the hospital.” Your leader said ushering the two of you off stage. Felix carried you in his arms until you were resting on the hospital bed, still in your stage clothes. Felix and your leader sat in the room with you while the doctors ran several tests. They hooked an IV up to your arm and waited for the doctor to return.

“So, who are you again?” The doctor asked pointing to Felix and your leader. She introduced herself, but before she could say anything else Felix interrupted her.

“I’m Felix, Y/n’s boyfriend. What going on, doctor?” She turned to you with wide eyes pointing at Felix. You motioned to her and an unspoken promise was made that you would talk about it later. She gave you a stern motherly look before turning back to what the doctor was saying.

“Well. She is severely malnourished. Her blood sugar and iron are dangerously low.” Felix put his head in his hands, clearly upset. “I’m seeing in her records this has occurred before?” Felix nodded reached for your hand. “Well, I want her to stay here until the IV is drained and someone should make sure she is eating and resting well.” The doctor wrote out a copy of meds and instructions for both Felix and your leader.

You watched Felix listen intensely on everything the doctor said about your health, taking notes of his own. Eventually, the doctor and your leader left the room. “Darling...I should have figured it out when you said you were dizzy. I’m so sorry. I should have- Fuck, I saw the sign and I didn’t do anything.” He rested his head in his hands clearly upset. You pulled him over to you and wrapped your arms around him.

“Thank you, for being here for me. That’s all I need.” You kissed the top of his head and buried your face in his neck.

Seungmin:

You could tell Seungmin anything. You had been best friends before you started dating and were basically inseparable. There was only one thing Seungmin didn’t know about you, your history with not so healthy weight loss methods. In highschool like most students, your self esteem was a soul sucking bottomless pit.

Every insecurity was brought to light by your cruel peers. Feeling broken you sought comfort looking magazines filled with beautiful women. Beautiful skinny women. Your desire to be like them grew stronger as you grew older. At first, you only skipped meals when extra work needed to be done. To you, there was no bad consequence at the time. Not only would you lose a little weight but you would get more accomplished.

Then skipping meals became a regular thing. You would usually get dinner with Seungmin most nights but still ate light. Seungmin paid no mind to it, assuming you were eating healthy during the day.

After a few months, he noticed you were extremely thin to an unhealthy degree. Seungmin was hesitant to ask you about it at first. You were an adult and could take care of yourself. He also didn’t want to come off as clingy and intrusive, but he was really worried about you to the point where he would lose sleep wondering if you had actually eaten that day and lied to him over a phone call.

Soon, he had enough. “Y/n, be honest with me.” He exclaimed one day while he was over at your apartment. You stopped mid-sip of water and turned to your boyfriend. “You’re skipping meals aren’t you?”

Silence filled the apartment. Every sound seemed to have been amplified. The dripping water of the bathroom faucet, the clock in the kitchen, the fabric of Seungmin’s sweater brushing against the couch. He watched you with determined eyes.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked hesitantly. He let out a heavy sigh taking your hands in his. He looked hurt.

Your boyfriend looked back up at you. He seemed to be studying every detail of your face. The bags under your eyes. The way your cheeks had begun to sink in. “I’m not mad.” He whispered. Seungmin took his time choosing his next words with care. “I’m worried, Y/n. Look at you. You are clearly not healthy. This has gotten out of hand.”

You felt exposed. Raw. Vulnerable. You felt small. Seungmin was right. What you were doing wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t safe, but you couldn’t just stop. It had gotten to the point that you barely had an appetite during normal meal times.

“Min...I can’t just stop. I’m really messed up aren’t I?”

Seungmin pulled you into his chest, resting his head on yours. “No more than anyone else.” He whispered. It felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders knowing that Seungmin knew your secret. You didn’t feel alone anymore. “We can get you the help you need. All I want is for you to be healthy and happy.”

There were a million things you wanted to say to him, but actions seemed to work better. You nodded against his chest, letting your arms fall from around his neck to rest gently over his heart. “I should have told you sooner.” You said softly, listening to his heartbeat.

His fingers softly ran through your hair. “What matters is you told me. I’m not going to let you go through this alone anymore. I’m always here for you, Y/n.”

Jeongin:

You had recently got a new roommate. A roommate who looked like she walked straight out of a Victoria’s Secret magazine. It didn’t help that she often walked around in her body hugging workout gear. You felt pudgy next to her. She was of course the nicest person on the planet which didn’t make your jealousy decrease any more than it should. In reality, it only grew more.

You wanted what she had. At first, you just started with a diet and exercise. Jeongin was happy to work out with you in the gym. He loved going on night runs with you near the Han river. But, you just weren’t getting the results you wanted. You still looked like a blobfish next to your roommate and were seeing no near progress anytime soon.

The first thing that Jeongin noticed was you stopped letting him come around to your apartment. In your mind the less he saw your roommate the less likely he was to compare you too. Not that he would, but there was always this doubt in the back of your mind.

The second was your dramatic change in demeanor. A cloud of depression seemed to hang over you wherever you went. You were tired and not acting like yourself. Lastly, he noticed you getting thinner and thinner.

You had cut out so many things from your diet that you were basically only eating a few crackers and slices of cheese a couple times a day. You stopped going out to dinner with Jeongin, choosing to go out when you knew you wouldn’t be eating.

He had no idea how to approach you, but he was worried sick. So, he went to the one person he knew he could trust with anything. Chan. He sat done with Chan and told him about everything he was thinking and feeling. After getting advice from his hyung he felt much better about asking you what was going on.

The two of you were on one of your Han river night runs. The pace you were running at was slower than usual. Jeongin made sure to go your speed, picking up on little things he noticed. “Y/n, are you sure you are alright?” He asked, stopping.

You nodded hands resting on your knee. Your chest was tight and your stomach hurt. It felt like hot volcanic air was pressing down on you like an anvil. “I’m fine. I just need a break.” He nodded and crouched down next to you. Not many people were out since it was later in the evening, but Jeongin still kept an eye out for pedestrians who might come by.

“Angel, you don’t look good at all.” He said rubbing your back. “Come sit for a minute.” Not letting you say anything against the notion he dragged you over to a bench and handed you his water bottle. You flinched tasting what was in it. Definitely not water.

“What is this?”

“Don’t worry. It’s got plenty of electrolytes in it. Just drink, angel. You need it.”

Jeongin rubbed your back as you drank from the bottle. “How did you know I needed that?” You questioned still out of breath. You attempted to hand him back the water bottle but he put it back in your hands.

“I know you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

You sighed head in your hands. “How long have you known?”

He shrugged playing with a bracelet on his wrist. “Maybe a week,” He had known for that long and he hadn’t said anything? Why? He gave you a tight-lipped smile as if reading your thoughts. “I was hoping you would tell me. But, you come first before anything.” He laced his fingers with yours. “Why are you skipping meals, angel?”

You sighed, looking out at the water, feeling much better now. “I was jealous of my roommate. She just is so fit and gorgeous. I feel so inferior next to her.” You hand carded through your messy hair as you looked up at your boyfriend. “Maybe I was...the teensiest bit worried that she might turn your head because of how slender she was.”

“Angel, you are perfect to me. I never want you to change.” He said pressing a kiss to your temple.

Requests are open my lovelies! Just send an ask!

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lordseochangbin · 5 years ago

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lordseochangbin’s jype series smut: music producer

requested: daddy kink

you shoved your face into the pillow, crashing onto the couch as you seemed to fail yet again at making a beat for the new track you were walking on. you dressed well today, a tight black skirt with a black denim skirt that hugs your waist but it didn’t change your mood nor your ability to make music.

honestly speaking you were new to the studio, starting off other producers saw your potential and decided to have you be the main producer for one of jyp’s newest girl groups.

this was an amazing job, considering you had left america to pursue a career and you felt you had zero confidence in actually making it in. but now here you were, having a mental breakdown in the studio after getting two hours of sleep trying to cram in a nice track before the deadline.

it was stressful.

you managed to keep your eyes open in front of the computer screen fiddling with some last minute adjustments before you could here one of jyp’s music directors come in.

considering he didn’t speak proper english and it had only been your second week into your korean class, it was hard to communicate back and forth.

“how is your work?” the director asked confidently.

you turned around in excitement from the english, not sure if you understood correctly due to the accent.

“i haven’t finished it yet, im so sorry. just give me another 2 hours ill get it done!!”

the director glared at you in confusion but by your expression figured what had happened.

“argh!” he exclaimed, “i can’t work with these american producers!”

your eyes started to tear up. this was the downside of being in korea, you always felt left out. of course korea is open to visitors but living here felt like an outsider in a different world and the fact that you had no time to do your korean classes didn’t help much.

as you whipped your tears you felt a tall blonde enter the room, his confidence gleaming almost as if he owned the room. “did you need my help?” he peeked in whispering to the director.

his hair was wet, his shirt damp of sweat from practicing with the rest of his group. it was bang chan, the leader of stray kids. part of the musical group 3racha, whose beats you had always admired.

the director came to chan and whispered a new words into his ear before turning back to you and waving goodbye. “take care...”

chan stood there for a few seconds, then walking about to the couch and sitting down. you turned around to view him from the front of your recording set.

“hi, my names y/n”

“haha, i know. i’ve seen you around! nice to meet you”

“you too!! wow im really sorry to interrupt you during practice i know it’s probably hard to cram in all this stuff an-“

“don’t worry about it. id love to help you” bang chan interrupted, pulling out his laptop.

you sat next to him as he pulled out some tracks, “here let me show you some 3racha tracks that i have.. just the music”

one of the tracks started playing causing your jaw to drop, “dude!! that beat is sick!” you praised.

bang chan’s eyes widened as he tried to pause the song, “wait this track-” you listened attentively, wondering why bang chan wouldnt be proud of it

“chan what’s the problem?” before chan could pause the track you heard the sounds of heavy moans added to the background, causing you to bite your lip

chan shut down the laptop, looking towards you in embarrassment.

“i..i’m sorry about that y/n”

you laughed as his cheeks turned red, “pfft, sorry? that’s exactly why girls are on their knees for you chan. you’re literally the hot shot of stray kids”

chan raised his eyebrows at your response, “you think so?”

“pfft.. don’t get too flattered. that’s everyone else’s opinion”

he placed a hand on your knee, pulling himself closer to you almost inches away from your face. “maybe i could change that”

you placed a finger under his chin, pulling him even closer. “the only thing i need help with...” you pushed him to the side before continuing, “is my music”

“oh come on!” he exclaimed, grabbing your hips making you fall onto his lap.

chan pulled back from hair from your face before staring lustfully into your eyes, “y/n.. i think the first thing you need to do is get rid of that stress.”

you pulled away from his lap, lying on your stomach as you buried yourself into the pillow. you were unconvinced that chan could help you with just that before he gripped his hands onto your shoulders, massaging them gently.

it was a few seconds of heaven as he rolled his palms on your back, “chan.. that feels so good..how did you-”

chan removed his hands, laughing as you turned around. “chan.. why’d you stop?”

“i dont think i can continue to help, you said i wasn’t the hot shot of stray kids” he shrugged, putting his laptop away.

you watched as he stood up, is he being for real?

“no wait chan-” you sighed, rolling your eyes. you approached him slowly, covering the door so he couldn’t leave

“you are.. the most hottest, sexiest, cutest member of stray kids” you continued sarcastically

“i think you forgot talented.” he said

“i think we can leave that out for today” you grabbed his hand, guiding him back to the couch.

“now help me.. pleaseeee” you pleaded.

“honestly speaking, i think you need to find some sort of inspiration”

“what’s yours? sex?” you spurted out

chans jaw clenched, making you stutter a bit. “l-look sorry i tend to be a little-”

“no..” chan interrupted, his voice low. “i get it. you think you’re funny right? flirty? with you skirt so close to your cunt.. i could fuck you over in seconds. i’m gonna tease you everyday until you break”

you laughed, slapping your hand onto his chest. “chan.. or chris. i know i’ve only been here for a few months and you might think of me as inexperienced in music, but i have to confess i am much more experienced in other things.”

you grabbed his hand, placing it under your skirt as he grabbed your thigh. “so if you think you’re ‘turning me on’ right now, or whatever the fuck you think you’re doing chan, try again” you smiled widely before standing up to grab your things and left the room.

perhaps you could say you took chan’s breath away. he had never met a girl as sexy as you. compared to the way you looked when he came to now, it was almost like you had a switch to you. you realized it to, how did his presence bring you such confidence?

chan kept his word. with every interaction he found some way to get his hands on you, some way to keep you distracted, some way to get you riled up. but you contained all of this distress until you got home, determined to make sure he doesn’t get what he wants.

but the dildo didn’t help.

should you give him a shot? you wondered to yourself

the question got you thinking about bang chan all night in bed until you decided to text him.

me: chan.. it’s y/n

bang chan: aw babygirl, feeling needy now?

you read the message smirking as you imagined bang chan at your door. you thought about it, maybe he was as sexy as his fans put him out as.

your reply said nothing of the sort.

me: no, i just needed up with music

bang chan: are you sure it’s just music y/n?

your legs started the grab the comforter, no longer being able to take the heat in between them

me: no.. i

me: i just cant stop thinking about you in between my legs. i want you so bad

bang chan: y/n.. now thats what i like to hear

bang chan: i swear to you one night i wont stop fucking you until your legs are shaking and the neighbors know my name

you gasped at the text, throwing your phone on the floor and grabbing your pillow. your cheeks flushed red at the thought of bang chan, what he was capable of. that night you went to bed thinking about him right next to you, he was even in your dreams. you had fallen in love with bang chan.

~~~

the next day around 8 am when you arrived at the jyp building you walked down the hall full of studios, interrupted by a hand that slammed you hard against the wall.

“missed me?” bang chan asked

you scoffed under your breath, “you wish” you replied before continuing the walk. once you opened the door to the studio you were off the floor and inside the arms of bang chans’.

“this outfit of yours is really nice, for whom? i wonder” you wore a white crop top with a black and red plaid skirt, along with some combat boots to complete a cute school girl look, which obviously turned him on.

“chan..chan the music” you responded, realizing the director might come soon.

“ok i finished editing the track you need to show to the director, he should be here in 30” he said, carefully putting you on the black leather couch. 30 minutes...would that be enough?

the second he sat on the couch you couldn’t hold back anymore. you trapped him against the cushion, thrashing your lips against his, rolling your hips on him, your hands exploring all over bang chan. you wanted it all.

the kiss took him by surprise, his hands picking you up from the bottom of your thighs and lifting you onto his lap.

your core felt like soaring fire at this point, and it being pressed against his cock didn’t help a single bit.

“daddy please.. i need you right now. all i can think about is you. you teased me enough please” you whimpered.

“i’m sorry.. what did you call me?”

“d-daddy. please fuck me” you panted, the feeling of member growing under you was taunting. you couldn’t stand it anymore, and bang chan loved that.

“fuck.. look at my babygirl” he said, his thumb sliding across his cheeks before he could harshly grab your chin. “y/n is so good and submissive.. and its 8 in the morning, i can only imagine how much sleep you lost last night”

he forced two digits to pass your lips, “suck”. his thumb held your face straight, his eyes dark and full of need as you grind on his hips, him jerking into you every once in awhile.

soon he dragged his fingers away from your lips, leaving them to part as he removes his t-shirt and soonly after both of your clothes and thrown onto the hard floor.

“chan.. he’s coming in 25 minutes we’re gonna get caugh-”

chan sealed your worries with a kiss, his fingers playing around your folds as he felt your bare skin against his.

it was weird, you thought, to see him bare naked under you. his member was massive as well, the thought of it inside you leaving you to drool.

chan’s member brushed against your entrance making you grip tighter on his arms. “chan” you pouted, “just fuck me already”

your actions resulting in a few spanking from chan however, “what did you call me babygirl?”

his voice made you whimper, your voice stuttering as you replied, “d-d-daddy... please i need you so bad”

chan smirked, “you’re not such a good girl anymore huh? always in need of daddy’s big cock”

��my daddy is the bestest” you replied innocently, taking chan by surprise when you get on all floors, yourself in between in legs as you lick a strip of his member.

“y/n...” he softly moaned your name, giving you motivation to suck on his dick.

his hands grabbed your hair, pushing you closer to him and fucking your mouth. chan smirked as you looked up to him, the way you made him feel, like he was the most blessed man on this planet.

“you’re so beautiful” he praised as you sucked on his tip, his hips bucking as he fucked you harder. you leaned back this time, your core throbbing on inactivity, your fingers not helping a single bit.

it was about time when you got on top of chan, sinking down on his member slowly. your teeth gnawed onto chan’s neck as you felt your walls being stretched to his size, “you’re so big daddy”

chan sped up his pace with no warning, giving you no time to adjust. your hands gripped onto his shoulders as your heard chan say, “i-i think i’m gonna cum. you sucked me off so well babygirl”

“let’s ride it off together” you said in a shaky voice. seconds later, both of you released on each other before you could hear a few knocks from the door. frantically you jumped from chan’s lap, throwing him his clothes and putting on yours.

“i’m coming!!” you replied.

“that’s what she said” chan replied with a smirk, you sending a deadly glare at him as you forced on your skirt.

“help me with this?” you asked chan, gesturing at your zipper.

“are you wearing no underwear?” your eyes glowed as you shut his mouth, running over to answer the door. you felt relieved almost, despite your job being at stake if the music wasn’t good enough. you opened the door to see the tall man with a suit on.

“how’d she do?” the director asked chan as he walked into the studio.

“y/n.. she was perfect.”

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writer-k-pop · 5 years ago

Text

ID Card - Part 1

내가 밀 했잖아! I told you so!

Description: Living as a pretty successful Youtuber and a KQ employee has it’s ups and downs. There are stresses about trying to make sure your identity and actual job are left private but for the most part it’s enjoyable. KQ has offered you a plan to make your Youtube career a full time gig and you’re still unsure on whether or not you should take it. But losing your ID at work may prove more helpful than you imagined. Warnings: None Genre: Word Count: 3k

Ateez Masterlist | Masterlists

*Seonghwa POV*

“I will see you all later!” She finishes the video and suggested videos pop up.

“I wonder where she films these.” Wooyoung thinks aloud from next to me.

“Same, she’s always so good at covering up logos and names. But she’s obviously at practice rooms sometimes.” Hongjoong comments from my other side.

“You should ask her then.” I close my laptop.

“Hyung, how cool would it be if she worked on our next album?” Wooyoung excitedly taps my shoulder.

“Who?” Jongho wanders into the living room.

“(y/n). We just watched her newest video.” Wooyoung fills Jongho in on the conversation. “It’s pretty obvious she works at an entertainment company and I was just saying how it’d be so cool if she worked with us on our next album.”

“Yeah, that’d be so cool!” Jongho agrees, “Hyung, you should ask her to work with us.”

I shake my head quickly. “No, no.”

“Why not?” Hongjoong questions.

“Because she’s got her own schedule and work, I doubt she’d even have the time to.” I answer.

“Still you never know.” Wooyoung probes, “Plus you always watch her videos the day they come out.”

“Yeah, is she like your celebrity crush or something?” Jongho pokes fun.

I quickly shake my head as Wooyoung and Hongjoong answer with a loud “yes!”

My cheeks start to burn so I quickly stand up, “I will see you dorks in the morning.”

“Hyung, everyone has a celebrity crush!” Jongho yells after me sensing my embarrassment, “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“It is when there’s no chance of ever meeting her.” I challenge.

“Says the one who’s a celebrity himself.” Hongjoong mocks me.

I tilt my head at him in slight annoyance and he raises his hands in defeat.

“Just answer, hyung. Yes or no, it would be cool if she worked with us?” Wooyoung pushes.

I let out a deep breath, “Yes, it would extremely cool.”

*Your POV*

“(y/n)! We’re going to be late!” Minhee, my coworker and roommate, picks up her purse in a hurry. “We should really keep better track of time.”

“I thought the meeting was at 11?” I hurriedly follow her out the door of the cafe, hoping the camera is recording at a decent angle.

“No! Did you not get the email saying they moved it to 10:30?” Minhee calls back to me.

“No?” I question, “When did they send it?”

“Late last night.” She answers.

I scoff, “Then no, I don’t check my email until I get into work.”

“Everyone, this would happen to us.” I say to the camera, “We would try to vlog and be cute, only to have to run frantically run to a meeting that was changed last minute.”

Minhee laughs out loud, “This would be our lives.”

I laugh along and film our half run, half walk towards KQ Entertainment.

“We can’t talk about the meeting, can we?” Minhee asks as we slow to wait for the crosswalk.

I shake my head, “Not now, no. All I can say is that it’s with some amazing people.” I smile widely and Minhee laughs at my very vague statement.

“Alright, that settles that.” Minhee nods.

The crosswalk light turns green and we head across the street.

“I have to turn the camera off but I will see you when we’re done with the meeting.” I give the camera a finger gun and stop recording.

As we step through the doors, our shoes resonate the determined clicks of women who will not be late to their meeting. We nod and greet a few coworkers as we scan our ID’s.

“Did the meeting room change too?” I ask as we reach the elevators.

“Thankfully, no.” Minhee smiles as we step into the elevator.

Just as the elevator doors start to close, a male voice yells down the hallway.

“Hold the elevator!”

I quickly press the open door button as Ateez’s Wooyoung reaches the door. My eyes widen when I recognize him.

“Thank you.” He gives us a small bow and pauses for a split second when he looks at us. After pressing the floor above ours, he retreats to a corner of the elevator while furiously texting someone.

The silence in the elevator is broken by Wooyoung getting a phone call.

“Hello?” He answers the call, “I’m coming, I’m coming. I’m in the elevator… Hyung, I’m sorry, I lost track of time.”

The elevator beeps for our floor and we leave with a nod to Wooyoung. As the doors close, I hear Wooyoung continue to talk.

“Hyung, (y/n) was in the elevator-“

I don’t have much time to process the whole thing because Minhee is dragging me down the hall towards our meeting room.

“Can I put my stuff down??” I beg as we pass our coworkers.

Minhee shakes her head and pulls me faster. “Nope, the meetings starts in two minutes and we will NOT be late.”

I readjust my purse just before we barrel through the doors to the conference room. Everyone but Ateez’s staff is currently in the room.

“Over here!” Jinho excitedly pats the seats on either side of him.

We take our seats and I pull out my laptop. “Where is everyone else?” I wonder.

Jinho shrugs, “I haven’t heard anything.”

“Ah, they’re running late. Apparently Wooyoung showed up late for their interview.” Insu announces to the room.

Hearing this, my shoulders immediately relax and I take a deep breath. I hear Minhee do the same on the other side of Jinho.

“What? Did you guys run here?” He questions our actions.

I nod. “We were at a cafe and lost track of time. Literally ran here.”

Jinho laughs at us. “Of course that would happen to you. Question: were you filming again?”

I purse my lips and that is enough of an answer for him.

“You need to be more careful. You know KQ wants to turn your Youtube thing into a full time thing. Not just an ‘on the side’ thing.” Jinho reminds me.

I nudge him with my knee because not everyone knows about the deal I struck with KQ. “I know. I know. I just still need to think about it.” I tell him just as the door opens and a few of Ateez’s staff walks in, including their manager.

“The interview started?” Seulgi greets the staff with a nod.

“Yes.” Their manager states, “Thank you for waiting for us.”

“No problem.” Insu says then proceeds to start the meeting.

After an hour and a half of discussing ‘Ateez Logbook’ days and ‘A ChallenZ’ times, Ateez’s manager, Jinsang, apologetically announces that Ateez’s interview would be over soon and they needed to leave. We say goodbye and I begin to pick up my belongings but Insu stops me.

“(y/n). Do you have a minute?” He asks.

The others file out of the room and Insu and I are left alone.

“Have you thought about what the CEO offered you?” He leans his arms on the table.

“A little.” I admit. “I’m just worried.”

“About?” He probes.

“My privacy.” I tell him. “Right now, it’s easy to hide where I am, and who I’m with because I can use the company has a veil. But I lose that veil when I give up this job.”

“You could still have that privacy.” Insu insists.

I shake my head. “No I can’t.”

“Just think about it, okay?” Insu pleads with me, “You know I’d work with the company to give you what you would need. Seulgi, Jinho, and Minhee have already reached out to me about being willing to join your team.”

“They’d leave the Ateez team?” I ask, shocked.

Insu nods, “They all watch your videos. Minhee is in them literally all the time, it makes sense.”

“What would my videos even be about?” I ask, “All I do now is vlogs and a few contented stuff. Vlogging is not going to suffice a full Youtube career.”

Insu smiles smugly, “You think we’d put out this suggestion without having a long list of content ideas for you? Trust me, (y/n), we’re already preparing a whole team for you, if you decide to take this route.”

I chew on the inside of my lip, “If I did this, would I be able to at least still be apart of the plans we discussed today?”

Insu nods, “We can arrange that.”

“Okay.” I take in the information while the currently stored information is swirling around in my head. “Can I have a little more time?” I ask.

“I can give you two more weeks but after that, both of us will start to get hounded on from up high.” Insu gives an apologetic smile.

I nod, “Okay, two weeks. Thanks Insu.” I pick up my bag and head out the door towards Minhee and my office.

She turns from her computer when she hears me walk in.

“What did he want to talk to you about?” Minhee inquires.

“About KQ’s offer.” I simply state, sitting in my chair. Her ID hanging from her neck reminds me that I have yet to put mine on.

“Did he tell you that I said I’d be on your team?” She questions as I dig around my purse for my lanyard.

I nod then scrunch my eyebrows in confusion.

“I can’t find my ID.” I inform her as my digging becomes more frantic.

“What do you mean?” Minhee rolls over to my side of the room.

“I had it coming into the building…” I trail off trying to remember where I could have lost it.

“Did you drop it in the elevator?” Minhee wonders, “That’s the only other place we’ve been besides the conference room.

“I don’t remember seeing it in my bag when we were in the conference room.” I replay the memory in my head. “I’ll call down and see if anyone turned it into the reception desk.”

I dial down and am left in disappointment when the receptionist says that no ID’s have been turned in. Sinking into my chair, I let out a sigh.

“No luck?” Minhee looking at me.

“Nope.” I run a hand through my hair. “Where could it be?” I wonder.

Minhee sighs softly, “I don’t mean to be the voice of life, but we have report deadline today…”

“I know, I know.” I nod and sit up. Rummaging through my purse again, I pull out my camera and set it up on my desk where I know you won’t be able to make out any distinguishing features of KQ.

“I just got done with my meeting.” I inform the future viewers. “But, I somehow lost my ID. I have no idea where I could’ve left it, I just, I can’t find it.”

“She’s losing her mind!” Minhee yells to be heard.

I roll my eyes, “Don’t listen to her. Anyway, I have some work to do so future me, start the time lapse… now.” I instruct myself and then busy myself with my work on the computer.

*Seonghwa POV*

“Why were you so late?” Hongjoong interrogates Wooyoung once the interview is over.

“I swear I was just getting something to eat at the cafe next door and the next thing I know it’s 10:20!” Wooyoung defends himself.

“Just be more careful next time.” I sternly remind him.

“But hyung!” Wooyoung continues excitedly and goes to pick up a lanyard from his locker, “Look.” He proudly shows us the ID with (y/n)’s name and picture on it. “She works here. I’m telling you I saw her in the elevator. It was really her.”

“No way.” Jongho says, inching closer to look at the ID while my heart nearly drops to the floor.

“Yeah, she was with her friend that is always in her videos too!” Wooyoung insists.

“(y/n)?” Yunho clarifies, “Like the Youtuber that Seonghwa hyung watches constantly?”

“It’s not constantly!” I defend myself.

“That one!” Hongjoong claps his hands.

“The one that hyung has a crush on!” Jongho excitedly adds.

I give Jongho a death glare but before I can say anything, our manager, Jinsang, plucks the ID out of Wooyoung’s hands.

“Where did you get this?” He questions Wooyoung.

“She dropped it in the elevator so I picked it up.” He explains.

“Were you going to turn it in?” Jinsang hyung raises an eyebrow, “You know she needs this to get into the building everyday.”

“I was going to after I showed it to the members.” Wooyoung pouts, “They didn’t believe me when I told them I saw her in the elevator.”

Jinsang hyung nods, “Well believe it. She works here. But you can’t say anything to anyone.” He quickly adds, “It’s part of our contracts with her to not say anything about where she works. Part of her privacy policy.” He walks over to his computer with her ID firmly in his hand.

“That’s why some of the practice rooms looked so familiar!” Wooyoung realizes, “Wow, she’s really good at hiding logos.”

“I messaged her.” Jinsang hyung announces, “Now get ready for practice.”

*Your POV*

“Hey could you check the content section to make sure it looks right?” Minhee asks after an hour of working.

“Sure.” I nod and finish up the sentence I’m typing.

As I scroll to her section, a direct message from Ateez’s manager pops up on my computer and I turn off the camera so I don’t have to worry about editing anything out.

“Hey, I have your ID. I don’t know why the members had it but we have it down in their practice room. I can come give it to you.” He sends.

“AH!” I exclaim to Minhee, “I must’ve dropped it in the elevator and Wooyoung must’ve picked it up.”

“Your ID?” She clarifies.

“Yeah, their manager just messaged me that he has it in their practice room.” I explain while typing a response.

“Don’t worry, I can come down and get it. Thank you!” I send.

“Guess who found her ID!” I say when the camera starts to record again. “Let’s go get it.”

Taking my phone and camera with me, I head down to the practice room.

“I feel like such a silly head.” I talk to the camera, “I think on the way up to my meeting, I dropped it in the elevator and one of the artists here picked it up for me. Though it is kind of confusing as to why their manager told me they had it.” I ramble on through the elevator ride and through the hallway. Then turn the camera off so any music isn’t recognizable.

Reaching the door I know to be Ateez’s main practice room, I wait for the muffled music to be shut off before knocking on the door.

“Come in!” Male voices invite me in.

I open the door and stick my head in apologetically.

All eight members of Ateez are standing around, breathing heavily from their practice. Jinsang sees me and waves me in. “Come in.” While he goes to get my ID, Hongjoong assembles the other members.

“We should introduce ourselves.” He announces. “1, 2, 3.”

“8 makes 1 team. Hi, we are Ateez.” They say and bow to me.

I bow back, “Nice to meet you. I’m (y/n).”

“Sorry for being curious,” Hongjoong starts, “But where do you work?”

I’m taken by slight surprise at the curiosity but smile nonetheless, “I actually work with the scheduling and content team for your ‘Logbook’ and ‘A ChallenZ’ videos.”

The silence that follows is quite profound.

“They didn’t realize you worked with their own team, let alone at KQ.” Jinsang informs me, handing me my lanyard, “They watch your Youtube videos all the time.”

My mouth drops open. “Ah, you watch my videos.” I repeat and feel an embarrassed blush spread across my cheeks.

“Seonghwa hyung watches your videos constantly.” Mingi points at Seonghwa, breaking their silence. Seonghwa slaps Mingi’s arm and Yunho runs to grab a phone.

“Can we have a picture?” He asks, “For our own memories? Hyung already told us that we can’t say or post it anywhere.” He adds quickly.

I nod, “Of course.”

Yunho hands the phone to Jinsang, “Let’s take it against this wall. It’s a clear wall.” Jinsang points to the wall nearest me and the eight members shuffle over.

Jongho ends up on my right but he quickly changes spots with Seonghwa. I smile at the seemingly innocent action and make sure my ID is securely tucked away from view. Force of habit.

“1, 2, 3.” Jinsang counts down and snaps a few pictures. “Done.” He lowers the phone and hands it over to make sure we like the picture as well.

I nod in acceptance of the picture and slide my lanyard around my neck. Minhee messages me reminding me about deadlines and I realize I have to get back to work.

“Thank you for finding my ID. It was great meeting you but I have to get back to work.” I apologize, “Jinsang, can you send the pictures to me?” I ask and he responds in a nod. “Thank you!” I say before rushing out the door and back upstairs.

“I found it!” I smile happily into the camera in the elevator, shaking the lanyard, careful not to show my actual ID card.

*Seonghwa’s POV*

“I TOLD YOU SO!” Wooyoung shrieks when the door shuts behind (y/n).

“Mingi, why would you tell her that?” I scold Mingi then turn to Jongho, “I look so red in that picture Jongho!”

“Hyung, when would that chance ever have come up again?” Jongho challenges.

“It might, actually.” Jinsang hyung shrugs.

“What do you mean?” I question.

“There’s a rumor, and it’s just a rumor, that KQ is offering her a whole team for her to do Youtube full time and be a full blown celebrity.” Jinsang gossips with us, “So you may see her in the future at future events and such.”

“That’s really smart.” Hongjoong nods in amazement, “She’s got the following and if she is planning our videos then she’s already really good at it.”

“That’d be so cool.” Mingi thinks wishfully.

“We could even do videos WITH her!” San exclaims.

I shake my head, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Hyung only said it was a rumor.”

Our choreographer claps their hands, “Alright, alright, save the rumors for later. Let’s start practice.”

#ateez #ateez imagine #ateez seonghwa #ateez seonghwa imagine #seonghwa imagine #park seonghwa imagine #park seonghwa #seonghwa

55 notes · View notes

paradisobound · 5 years ago

Text

Follow You Home

Summary: Dan and Phil are neighbours who are there for each other whenever they need help. When Phil breaks his ankle, Dan helps him take care of his dog, and their friendship begins to grow to something more.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: None

Written With @dayevsphil for the @phanfictionevents Collab Fic Event!

A/N: we had a lot of fun writing this and we hope you'll like it too!

[Read on Ao3]

Dan is kind of an expert at procrastination. The deadline for this article is approaching at a steady, unrelenting pace, which means that it's the perfect time to clean out his refrigerator.

He's sitting on the cool tile in his pants and an old hoodie, sorting condiments by use-by dates, when his phone rings.

Most people don't bother to call him - it's easier to reach him by text or email, although he's also been known to ignore those until they go away - so he's a bit confused by the noise until it clicks in his mind. He digs in his hoodie pockets for his phone and if he grins at the caller ID, there's nobody here to see him except a very dubious bottle of mustard.

"Phil," he says, trying to sound casual and not like he jumps every time his neighbour calls.

"Hey, Dan," Phil's lovely, sweet voice comes through the line. He also sounds weirdly sheepish, which isn't unusual for him. "I've got kind of a weird favour to ask."

"Do you need a boost to your unlocked window again?" Dan asks. He's having a staring contest with the mustard, unsure if he should make any sudden movements to throw it out.

Phil laughs, and Dan feels a little smug about it. "No. Actually - okay. I did need that. But that was a few hours ago, and I thought I could get myself up there, and - anyway. I don't have as much upper body strength or coordination as I thought I did. Can you maybe, uh, walk Buffy for the next four to six weeks?"

"You know I love that dog," Dan says slowly. "But why? Did you fall off the building?"

"Yeah," says Phil. "And I broke my ankle."

Oof. Dan knows that Phil isn't exactly the most balanced guy in the world, but it still makes Dan wince to think about him getting himself hurt.

"Alright, I'll be over in like half an hour," Dan offers, decisively putting the mustard in his bin. "I'm sure she's buzzing by now, yeah?"

"Yeah," Phil laughs. He sounds relieved, like he thinks Dan would have said no to hanging out with a cute dog for money. "It'll feel weird because I'm, like, home, but I can't take her out myself."

Every time Dan has taken care of Buffy for short or extended periods, it's been because Phil is out of town. He vacations with his family a lot and travels for business every once in a while and Dan, well... works from home and could always use the extra income and the puppy cuddles.

Plus, it helps that Phil is one of the most attractive and funny people Dan has had the pleasure of meeting.

"Don't worry," Dan says. "I'm here to help."

“Oh thank you!” Phil exhales. “Actually, do you think you could take her for a walk right now? She’s a bit restless and I can’t…”

“Say no more! I’ll be right over.”

Dan hangs up, pressing end on his phone and washing his hands of whatever ended up being sticky on the outside of that mustard. He goes to brush his hands off on his legs when he suddenly remembers he's just in his pants.

Looking down at his legs, he figures that while he and Phil could be considered close or even bros, that didn’t mean that they were on the same page about Dan showing up to Phil’s in just his pants. Of course, a secret part of Dan wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to that scenario, but that’s something that’s stored deep inside Dan’s brain for another day.

He grabs the first pair of joggers that he sees on his floor and pulls them on and adjusts the waistband. He hesitates for a moment, debating if he should change his hoodie but then decides that it’s just a hoodie and it’ll be fine.

He grabs his phone from the kitchen counter and his keys from the stand next to the door and heads out down the hall.

Phil’s second-floor flat is right down the hall from Dan’s, which makes it convenient in most cases when they both needed help with the whole climbing through unlocked windows thing. But it also is nice when Phil went away because it means Dan doesn't technically have to leave to go and dog-sit Buffy.

He knocks on the door and then cringes to himself with the fact that Phil probably hasn’t learnt how to navigate yet with his broken ankle and—

The door opens and Dan tries to hide the blush that creeps over his face every time he comes face to face with beautiful blue eyes and stark black hair. Except that black hair is looking a little brown and Dan feels his cheeks heat up even more because how could a man already so attractive become even more attractive? Is that even possible?

His thoughts are interrupted by the bounding of chestnut fur leaping towards the door. Buffy is a big dog—well, she's a labradoodle—but she is very energetic and more than friendly. She's the sweetest puppy Dan’s ever met.

Phil’s leaning on a set of crutches and Dan sees the complete relief on Phil’s face now that they’ve both comprehended the situation.

“Buffy didn’t like being stuck here while I was at A&E so she’s very eager to go out for a walk,” Phil says, hobbling back from the door to make his way over to grab her lead.

Dan just watches and bends down, giving Buffy a few quick rubs before he decides he should help Phil with that. He stands back up straight and helps Phil detangle her lead and then he takes it back to the prancing pupper and hooks her on.

“I can take her to the park for a bit to let her run around?” Dan asks, already being dragged a bit by the over-energetic dog.

Phil nods. “That would be great!”

Dan’s turning back to lead Buffy down the hall when Phil speaks up again. “Hey, Dan?”

Dan turns around and looks back at him. “Yeah?”

“I really appreciate this, you know? I really don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t know you.”

Something resonates deep inside Dan and he struggles to keep back the giddy feelings in his chest as he just smiles and Phil smiles back, shutting the door.

Buffy is extremely eager to go for a walk. Dan isn't exactly a small person, and he still feels like he's being yanked down the stairs by a small horse. He laughs and half-jogs after her once they reach the pavement. He gets out of breath quickly and has to keep pulling her for frequent stops, but she doesn't seem to mind now that they've got some forward momentum.

The dog park isn't very busy at this time of day, when the majority of people are at work and their dogs are at home waiting for them to come home, so Dan lets Buffy off her leash and chases her around to try and get the zoomies out of her.

Buffy is a big girl with a ton of energy, and Dan has to lie down in the grass to catch his breath more than once. She thinks this is all a part of the game every time and licks all over his face until he's giggling and getting back up.

Sometimes Dan thinks about getting a dog, because his flat gets kind of lonely sometimes and the routine of going outside and actually getting exercise can only be good for him, but then again, he's already got Buffy. A small, secret part of Dan has domestic fantasies locked away in the back of his mind, where he gets to hang out with Buffy all day while her dad's at work. The sheer idea of Phil coming home to them every night and beaming at them like they're the best things to ever happen to him is honestly more salacious than Dan's filthiest fantasies.

Eventually, Dan's lungs and legs are protesting far too much for him to keep tiring Buffy out. He takes her back to their building, both of them panting the whole way.

Dan hesitates in front of Phil's door. He doesn't want to make Phil hobble over again, but it feels weird to just let himself in as well… Dan could overthink this for a long time if left to his own devices, just standing in the hallway like a weirdo, but Buffy is having none of that.

She whines and scratches at the door, and Dan makes the decision to just open it for her. She bounds inside when he lets her off the lead and he pauses again before following her inside.

"We're back," he calls through the flat. He hangs Buffy's lead up on the coat rack and toes off his shoes. "I'm just gonna get her a treat, alright?"

"Er, yeah, of course," Phil's voice comes from the direction of the kitchen, and Dan starts moving towards it like he's been magnetized. When he gets there, he's startled into a laugh. Phil is leaning against the counter, a crutch under one arm and a mug in his free hand. He looks alarmed as he watches Buffy go to her water bowl, like he's afraid she's gonna jump on him.

"She should be too tired to tackle you, at least for a little bit," Dan laughs. He grabs a couple of treats from the top of the fridge and makes Buffy sit and shake paw for them. "Good girl," he coos, scratching behind her ears.

"The best," Phil says, looking relieved when Buffy settles for licking the hand on his crutch and going to lie down.

"Mind if I also get a water?" Dan asks, feeling equal parts awkward and giddy. He never really comes back to Phil being here when he dogsits, so this is different.

Phil smiles and shakes his head. "Make yourself at home. I have to get dinner on the go, soon, but…" He trails off, gesturing with his half-empty mug at the cast on his foot. "It was annoying enough to make coffee. I've got no idea how to do any of this without, like, falling over or breaking something."

"You could order in," Dan suggests, and then laughs at the state of Phil's fridge. "And you might need to, mate, you've got nothing here."

"I know," Phil says. He grimaces a bit. "Not looking forward to grocery shopping."

"Well, why don't you leave me a list," says Dan, "and I'll pick up some stuff for you when I go tomorrow?"

The way Phil's face lights up with a sort of sheepish gratitude warms Dan to his core.

"That'd be really nice of you," Phil says, sounding so sincere about it that Dan is tempted to crack a joke and break the moment. Phil sets his mug down and starts patting around his pockets for his phone before he can. "What do you like on your pizza? You should stay."

Dan definitely wants that. He wants to sit on Phil's sofa and eat Domino's and watch a series that's new to both of them so that maybe he has another excuse to keep coming around. Dan is maybe a little pathetic over this guy.

Unfortunately, Dan is also very aware that he's sweaty and a little dirty from rolling around in the grass with Buffy.

"I like pretty much anything," says Dan, setting his water bottle on the counter. "Lots of different dips, please. I'm gonna go take a shower while you order if that's cool, I'm fucking rank from the park."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Phil grins. Then his expression turns mournful as he looks down at himself again. "That's… another thing I'm not sure how to accomplish."

Dan mumbles something that might be English words and hightails it out of the flat before he does something very stupid, like offer to help Phil with that, too. It's not until he's standing on the other side of his own door that he realises he left his shoes in Phil's entryway.

Dan feels too awkward to go and get his shoes from Phil’s flat so it takes him a little over a day before he does. And even then, it’s because Phil texted him about taking Buffy on another run—Dan doesn’t call it a walk anymore because Buffy literally makes him run.

So, Dan does what any awkward person would do when they left their only gym shoes at their neighbors flat and they need them. He walks barefoot to said flat and waits with his socks stepped onto a seemingly wet front entry mat.

Dan knocks on the door and after just a moment, Phil opens it open with same big smile on his face and an excited Buffy on his heels.

“You left your—”

“I left my—”

Phil lets out a chuckle and it briefly cools the heat that is definitely seeping up Dan’s cheeks now as they both attempted to say the same thing. God, this made him want to actually crawl into a hole in the floor.

“You left your shoes here,” Phil says still chuckling. “Buffy found the left one and thought it would be fun to drag it around by the shoestring.”

Dan winced and forced out a laugh. “Yeah, sorry about that. I don’t know why I walked out and didn’t even notice I wasn’t wearing any shoes.”

“Well you’re also not wearing any right now so maybe your subconscious is telling you something.”

Dan let out a proper laugh this time as he pointed a finger at Phil. “Listen, I…”

He’s stopped by the sound of other voices coming down the hallway and he suddenly feels weird standing outside of Phil’s door in a pair of joggers and a jumper with no shoes.

Phil moves out the way, as best as he can anyway with Buffy right behind him and his crutches making it difficult. Dan shuts the door behind them and notices his shoes sitting perfectly paired next to Phil’s own and his heart does a slight flip as he realizes that he actually kind of likes the way that that looks.

He picks up his shoes and slips them on as Phil is struggling to get the lead clipped on Buffy’s collar. Dan reaches out to help when he manages to get it hooked and Buffy is now running to the door.

“Guess this is my cue.” Dan laughs and Phil nods.

“I know I’ve already said this but thank you again, Dan! It does mean a lot!”

Dan smiles and looks down at his shoes just happens to notice the small signs of a bite mark on his left shoelace.

—

Two weeks pass with this new system in place while Phil is healing. Dan still comes over to Phil’s every day and he still takes Buffy out on a walk. Her energy was still the same and every day, Dan walked back slightly dirty with a layer of sweat.

Phil said that in two more weeks, the doctor told him he would be able to start wearing a boot on his foot and he seemed extremely glad for that from what Dan can tell.

Phil didn’t look like he was exactly happy being cooped up so much and the past few days, Buffy has even taken up to whimpering and pushing her head into Phil’s hip to get him out the door. But Phil’s lack of mobility makes it not possible for Phil to even walk a bit of the way to the park because his crutches leave him so exhausted.

Dan feels bad. And he wishes he had more that he could do to help.

He knows that Phil is an introvert, like himself, so he’s surprised by how many times Phil tries to get him to stay and hang out. Dan only caves a couple of times, because he hates being around Phil when he’s gross from the run, but Phil seems to be getting more and more desperate for someone to just sit and watch Bake Off with him while he can’t work. Dan makes up excuses most of the time, but it’s getting as hard to say no to Phil as it is to say no to Buffy.

“Dan,” Phil says when Dan and Buffy come back from their morning walk. “Hey, what are you doing today?”

“I have an article to write,” Dan says automatically. He holds up his laptop bag as evidence.

Phil’s face falls, even with Buffy licking his hand, and he nods. “Oh, okay. Sure. Just… if you wanted to, you could work here. It kind of sucks to only have Buffy to talk to all day, you know?”

Well, great. Now Dan feels even worse.

“Alright,” Dan says, following Buffy into the narrow entryway of Phil’s flat. They’re all standing very close together for a long moment, and then Buffy barks at both of them and runs off to the kitchen to wait for her treat.

“Sorry, I know you’re busy with work,” Phil says, sheepish. He looks like he’d be scratching the back of his neck if he didn’t need both hands to balance his crutches.

Dan is really, really not busy, but he’s been telling Phil that he is for two weeks now, so… he nods and pulls an exaggerated face. “A little, but I really don’t mind hanging out with Buffy.” Phil still looks vaguely sad, and that just shouldn’t be allowed. He’s way too handsome for that, all Dan ever wants to see him do is smile. He adds, “And I like hanging with you, too.”

Phil’s whole face brightens up, and Dan knows he’s made the right call.

And then that is part of their routine as well, Dan hanging out in Phil’s flat for a few hours every day. It's nice, because it's all that Dan ever wants to be doing, but it's also nerve-wracking - how is he supposed to keep hiding his stupid crush like this?

It's a good thing Phil is so oblivious.

But at the same time, it’s not. Because Dan can be a bit of a wuss when it comes to letting his feelings out. It’s how it took him nearly three months of pining to eventually to ask his prior ex for their number.

They work together in silence inside Phil’s flat. Phil is busy doing his own work on his laptop while Dan is on his own on the couch adjacent to Phil. Buffy is off in the corner of the living room on her bed taking a nap, snoring away with her legs twitching every so often. It makes Dan smile when he watches her for a bit.

“See something good on your computer?”

Dan snaps out of his trance and turns his head to Phil who is staring at him with a smile.

Dan shakes his head. “No, I was just watching Buffy sleep.”

Dan realizes how creepy that is after the world leave his mouth and he worries that they came off as weird. So he waits on baited breath as Phil lets out a sigh and turns his head towards the sleeping pup. “When I first got her, she slept in bed with me and it made me feel calm.”

Dan bit his lip, warm feelings coursing through his veins.

“I liked having a warm body to sleep next to,” Phil continued. “I don’t know, she just made me feel really safe. And it felt really nice to not be alone for once.”

“I’m sorry.”

Phil shrugs and lets out a smirk. “Don’t worry about it.” Phil says. “It’s definitely a me thing and I shouldn’t be involving you in my problems.”

Dan quickly shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing like that at all.” He pauses. “I really like hanging out with you, Phil. And I’m not just saying this because you have a cute dog.” Phil lets out a laugh and Dan snorts too. “But you were one of the first people I met when I moved here.”

“You were too.” Phil says. “I had just moved here from Manchester and I didn’t know a single person around here. And just to think that we got to know each other over the balcony incident of 2016.”

Dan lets out a loud laugh as he remembers how he came back from the store one day to see Phil attempting to get into his flat via the balcony. Dan had never laughed so hard in his life as he helped Phil out to get back inside. It was also during this time that Dan had seen just how attractive Phil really was.

“Dan?” Phil interrupts Dan’s thoughts and Dan turns his head.

“Yeah?”

“When I get my boot on in a week, can I--” Dan’s heart starts racing and Dan waits as Phil hesitates before finally saying, “Can I take you out to dinner?”

Dan feels his cheeks heat up and blush creep over his skin as he nods and smiles in agreement.

Phil gets his boot just a week later to wear for the next few weeks while his ankle finishes healing. Dan had asked him about his mobility level with it and Phil had assured that the doctor told him that he could take short walks but not over do it.

Dan had taken to going over to Phil’s every day to just sit and talk with him and play with Buffy. They haven't mentioned the ‘dinner’ since Phil had asked him but Dan still holds onto the hope that Phil meant it.

Dan wants nothing more than to be able to finally go on a date with Phil. At least, he hopes that's what Phil meant, because if he just wanted to take Dan to dinner as a thank-you then Dan is going to fling himself off the nearest bridge.

It's a few days after Phil gets the boot on that Dan receives a text. He's lying in bed and grinning at his ceiling because Phil wants to know if he's free tonight. Dan is always free when it's Phil asking, if he's honest.

Getting ready for the day is difficult. Dan changes his mind on an outfit roughly a dozen times, because Phil has only ever really seen him in his comfy 'house' and 'walking' clothes, and Dan's got a whole closet full of too-expensive things he rarely wears. He tries some of it on before he gets lazy and just holds things up against his body to the mirror. He plays the coin toss of washing his hair, hoping that when it dries and has product in it won't look like a frizzy mess.

The last time Dan went on a date was before he moved to London, so he's a little bit rusty with it all.

Dan leaves it until the last possible minute to get dressed after getting lost in a Reddit cave, and he ends up just grabbing from the stuff he'd laid out before at random. The wide neck on this jumper used to bother him, but he thinks it looks nice now. His ripped jeans feel tighter than usual around his legs, but he doesn't know if that's because they shrunk in the wash last time or because running around after a dog twice a day is actually good exercise. Maybe they'll be more difficult to take off later, but he likes the visual effect of it.

He manages to shove his clown feet into some sneakers just as someone knocks on his door. He does one last once-over in the mirror before taking a couple deep breaths and going to answer it.

"Hey," Dan breathes, feeling his mouth stretch into a wide grin.

Any worry that this isn't a date is swept away, because Phil looks really good. He's got his shirt buttoned up all the way and his brown hair has actual product in it for the first time in weeks.

Phil beams right back at Dan. "Hi!" he chirps. Dan feels gratified by the way his gorgeous eyes look Dan's outfit over. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," says Dan. He steps out into the hallway, a thrill going through his whole body when Phil doesn't take a step back to let him lock the door. They aren't touching, but Dan can feel Phil's body heat like they're about to be, and he's sure that he's blushing like an idiot when he turns back around.

Phil's smile widens, but he doesn't draw attention to whatever's going on on Dan's face. "Let's go," he says, "I got us an Uber and I'm still getting used to this boot."

There are a couple of awkward moments with the boot, like getting in and out of the car, because Phil is a naturally clumsy person and the depth perception with his own limbs isn't great either. Dan is there to help him, though, steadying Phil with a hand to his arm and feeling his stomach flutter whenever Phil smiles at him.

"You've got, like, three left feet," Dan giggles, holding Phil's elbow to guide him through the restaurant. The hostess is being accommodating now, but if Phil keeps knocking into other people's chairs, Dan is sure her attitude will change.

"Guess I'll just need to keep holding on to you, then," Phil grins, a little sheepish.

Dan blushes and steadies him the best that he can before they get to the booth and he helps Phil sit down. In hindsight, Dan feels like he should have asked the hostess to get them a table. But Phil is sitting quite comfortably in the booth with no apparent mind towards his own leg sticking out to the side a bit so Dan doesn’t bother her anymore.

The waitress makes her way over and offers them each some wine and they both take a glass of it before she asks if they wanted any water as well.

It’s awkward, and Dan’s not even going to try and say otherwise. Their feet are hitting each other under the table and Phil just tried to put his napkin on his lap but has now thrown it on the floor. Dan tries so hard to keep his composure, but as he sees Phil attempt to bend down and reach for it without totally jarring his foot up and kicking the table was actually a bit funny. So he stifles a laugh.

“Do you know what you’re going to get?” Phil speaks up now that he’s managed to grab the cloth napkin again and fold it over his lap.

Dan is still looking down at the menu and he bites his lip in concentration as he tries to decide what to get. “I’m not sure.”

“You can get whatever you want,” Phil said. “I’ll pay.”

Oh, this was a proper date then.

Dan set down the menu and he looked at Phil who was staring at him with a blush and a smile. “You don’t have to do that.”

Phil just shook his head, clearly not taking no for an answer.

The waitress came over and Dan ended up ordering a prawn spaghetti dish while Phil got a specialty pizza that Dan didn’t catch the name of. As they sipped on their wine and waited for the order, Dan found himself looking at Phil.

Phil was just so attractive and the fact that Dan was actually on a date with him was making his heart swell a bit. He found himself feeling floaty, his chest feeling hot but his stomach feeling fluttery. He loved it. It reminded him of when he had crushes as a teenager, except now he freely expresses them.

“I want to thank you again for helping me with Buffy.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “You’ve already thanked me enough, Phil.” He says with a playful tone. “You don’t have to keep thanking me for something that I genuinely enjoyed.”

“I know she can be a handful but she keeps me company,” Phil says. “She keeps me on my toes.”

“Not right now she doesn’t.” Dan jokes.

Phil’s eyes crinkle as he lets out a laugh and his tongue does the little thing that Dan has noticed it does when Phil is genuinely laughing, which is poking out of his teeth.

They continue having mindless conversations about Buffy and work and life in general. They don’t get too deep or too personal.

When their food comes, they barely speak as their starving stomachs protest more than their mouths and they both hungrily consume their food. When they’re both done, Phil asks for the tab and then he pays without Dan getting a single say in the matter, and then they get ready to leave.

Walking back out of the restaurant isn’t nearly as hard as walking in and they get outside to an Uber already waiting for them. Dan helps Phil get inside again and they sit next to each other the entire ride back to their flats. But this time, Phil’s hand makes it way over the seat and touches Dan’s with the lightest of touches and Dan turns over his palm and lets Phil put their hands together.

It’s such a small thing in the grand scheme of things, but Dan feels genuinely happy and content in that moment.

They take the lift up to their flats and as they stop outside of Phil’s, their hands still connected, Dan feels a bit of sadness crest in his chest as he realizes he was going to have to say goodbye to him for the night.

He knows it shouldn’t be this hard. They live nearly across the hall from each other. But for some reason, that short distance feels like oceans tonight and it’s weighing heavy on Dan’s chest.

Dan goes to say goodbye and dislodge their hands from each other, but as he goes to do so, Phil leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek. It’s nothing big, but it’s enough for Dan to feel himself blush. Phil pulls back after the quick peck and just smiles.

“I’d love to do this again sometime if you’d like?”

Dan quickly nods. “Me too. I really would too.”

They part ways and Dan walks back to his flat with his shoulders a bit slumped and his chest a bit heavy. But his cheek still feels the tingle of Phil’s kiss and when he shuts the door to his flat, he reaches up and feels the space that Phil had pressed his lips to.

He gets out of his clothes and into a pair of joggers and an old uni hoodie and is laying down on his couch when his phone buzzes and he looks down at the screen and sees a message from Phil.

Buffy misses you :( maybe we can have a sleepover?

Dan doesn’t need to be told twice as he rushes out the door of his flat with his toothbrush in hand and is greeted by Buffy and Phil in the doorway. And as he steps inside, he knows for a fact that this time is different than any other time he’s come over before.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #fluff #alternate universe #collab fic #phanfic collab #phanfiction events #hope you enjoy :)

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viceprints · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Twenty Four Hours Summary: The members are Vice are finally at a breaking point. They are given twenty four hours to return to HBH.

Genre: Mystery, drama, angst Paring: OT7/OT6 Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: Angst, swearing, missing persons.

JAN 2020

The idols reached Yuso just as the sun was dipping into the horizon. The sky was dusted pink and purple, the city lights contrasting greatly with the fading light. Another day almost gone, and they still hadn’t found Seokyu.

“Seokyu-ah!” Kane belted, his hands cupped around his mouth. The Vice boys had taken to the streets of Yuso, poking into restaurants and bars, asking anyone if they had seen Seokyu. Not one person had seen the missing idol. The possibility of Seokyu not being in Yuso after all started to wiggle it’s way into the boy group’s mind as the sky got darker and the hours got later.

“This is bullshit.” Geonwu groaned after they left yet another bar without any leads. The singer stopped in his tracks, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t keep doing this.” Ji turned around, furrowing his eyebrows. “What do you mean? We need to find Seokyu.” Geonwu arched an eyebrow. “Have any of you ever thought that maybe he doesn’t wanna be found?”

“Are you giving up on him?” Kane asked defensively. squaring his shoulders. “Seokyu’s the one that gave up on us. He’s the one that left without saying anything.” Geonwu snapped, hurt etched into his words. “Besides, I have a family to get home to.” “Seokyu is our family.” Kane insisted, his fists balled. "I love Seokyu, but I’m starting to agree with Wu.” Cyth frowned. “I feel like this has just been one big game of cat and mouse. Clearly Seokyu is alive and well... Maybe we should just let him do what he has to do.” “But if he misses the deadline-” Woodam started. “Then we carry on Vice without him.” Geonwu said flatly. “Of course you two are the first to give up on him.” Ji criticized. “You guys only care about yourselves.” “I only care about myself?” Geonwu repeated incredulously. “Is that why I left my wife and child to go on cross country trip? Is that why I’m putting my career at sake?” "We have other parts of our lives that require us to be present.” Cyth defended. “And I think we’ve all spent a little too much time on Seokyu.”

The last comment sent the boy group into a frenzy of bickering and accusations. Minho, who has learned from experience that it’s best to just let his group mates hash it out before intervening, finally broke the argument up when Ji reeled his fist back as if he was preparing to punch Geonwu. “Okay, okay, let’s cut this out.” Minho got between his members, extending his arms to force them apart. The voices around him quieted down, but his members still looked incredibly tense. “We’re all sacrificing something by being here, that’s not a unique loss.” Minho reasoned. “No one’s making anyone stay. If you really want to go home, you can.” He paused, giving anyone the opportunity to drop out now, but no one moved. He knew his friends well enough to know that none of them would really give up on Seokyu. A small smile threatened to tug at his lips. “Alright. That’s what I thought. How about we find someplace to sleep. Tomorrow we’ll find Seokyu. I promise.”

The next morning, the boys ate their complimentary breakfast in silence. The tension from last night had carried over, the air between each member feeling fragile and stiff. “I’ve been thinking.” Geonwu said carefully, placing his utensils down on his plate. “I know you guys don’t want to give up on Seokyu, but we should consider bringing in some extra help.”

“What do you mean?” Ji asked, giving Geonwu a weary look.

“We should call Detective Min. Maybe with our new information, he’ll open the case up again. He’s probably more equipped to find a missing person that we are.” Geonwu reasoned.

The other men let the suggestion sit in the air. Geonwu was right, but something about sitting back and waiting for something to happen didn’t settle right in their conscious.

Minho’s ringtone broke the silence, causing the leader to flinch back in surprise. The caller ID read ‘Hak Bonghwa’. Giving a cautious look around at the other members, Minho picked up the phone.

“Hello?” He answered. “Minho.” The founder’s voice sounded tense. “Where are you? You haven’t been around the company in a few days.” “Oh, you know...” Minho tried to think of an acceptable excuse. “We’re just working on some music independently. Wanted to get away from the stress of Seoul.” “I wasn’t born yesterday, son.” Hak Bonghwa responded flatly. “You know that my support is always with you boys, but I have a company to run. Wherever you are, I want you back to the company before tomorrow night. Otherwise, I will have to cancel your comeback due to under-preparedness.” Minho swallowed thickly. “Yes, sir.” Hak Bonghwa exhaled a tired sigh. “Get back safely. See you soon.” The call ended and Minho looked around at his members. It was over. They had no choice now but to call in Detective Min and hope for the best.

“We could take one last sweep of the city?” Woodam tried to sound soothing. “Maybe we missed something last night.”

Even though the boys gave another good search, there was nothing. They didn’t want to interact with too many people out of the fear of being exposed by a fan. Whatever they could do to continue the search resulted in nothing. As the sun reached it’s peak in the sky, the boys decided that it was time to pack up their things and check out of Yuso.

As they were just blocks away from their hotel, Ji suddenly let out an exclamation of realization, slapping his palm to his forehead. The other five members turned around, halting their movement. “What’s wrong?” Minho asked. “I know what he’s doing!” Ji yelled out, pacing in a circle, hand still over his face. “God, why didn’t I realize it sooner!” “Uh, Ji, you gonna fill us in or...?” Cyth prompted.

“This is all my fault… On New Years Eve, I told him that if there’s places he wants to visit, he should go visit them because life is too short.” Ji explained.

“You’re a philosopher.” Geonwu mumbled sarcastically.

“But I know where he’s going!” Ji ran his fingers through his hair. “What’s the one place Seokyu always writes down for our group vacations?”

Everyone blankly stared back at Ji. The rapper let out a disappointed sigh.

“I’ll give you a hint: his grandparents retired there not too long ago.” Joongji continues.

“Jeju?” The group responded in unison.

“Bingo.” “That explains why he was looking at pictures of his grandmother before he left. He probably wanted to go visit her.” Minho realized. “What if he’s not in Jeju? Then what?” Kane asked. “We don’t have to be back at the company for another twenty four hours.” Woodam reasoned. “I’d rather take this chance than miss it completely.”

A silent agreement to Woodie’s statement fell over the group as they changed their course of direction, right to the closest ferry dock.

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isamabella · 4 years ago

Note

Any tips for those of us going into our freshman year of college? Thank you for your time!

Sooooo I definitely accidentally wrote you a literal 2 page essay with horrible grammar so im very very sorry ahead of time and I'm sure you regret asking😬

I think the first thing that comes to mind is be flexible. I used to plan out classes months ahead of time and make back up plans. That’s great, but freshman got last pick for classes. Even more if your last name was toward the end of the alphabet like mine. This meant classes I planned ahead of time were waitlisted or closed by the time I could enroll. This often left me frantic even though it it worked out every time. The Nevada higher education system also “encourages” students to take 15 credits per semester instead of 12. By encourage, I mean threatening to take financial aid away. I think knowing that was hanging over my head and ability to pay for school only made it worse. So yes, make a plan, but don’t be so rigid that you’re basically anxious every day because of it. Most people change majors multiple times. I changed it 3 times in a year and a half. If you decide to do a minor, don’t feel pressure to make it related to whatever your career goals are. I did my bachelors in public health with a minor in addiction treatment services. They went well together, but I chose the minor because I was interested in it. If you want to be an art major with a biology minor, go for it.

Find balance! I struggle with this constantly and I’m 6 years and two degrees in. I won’t tell you not to procrastinate, because that’s how I operate. So many people would tell me to “just get it done early”. It’s just not how I work even now. I will say try not to binge study. Even when you’re studying the night before an exam, take breaks. It probably sounds like common sense, but just like times when I procrastinate, I also have the terrible habit of trying to learn everything at once. I did this the other day actually. I learned 148 anatomical terms and locations in about 7 hours for a 15 question quiz. I should’ve taken breaks and spread out the time frame.

Professors! You’re going to have some loose butthole professors. Generally though, just be respectful of them. College students can be massive assholes toward the professors, don’t be another one. I’d also encourage utilizing office hours. I never did and I actually think I put myself at a disadvantage. Oh! I was a TA my senior year for my friend’s class. From my perspective as a TA, once again don’t be a jerk. Don’t be embarrassed to ask for help. From experience, professors want to help. Side note, some like hearing you liked the topic and stuff like that. Especially when it’s a rough class. Be genuine though. Don’t do it to suck up. It’s hard to teach huge classes. My friend’s was 180 the semester I was his TA. There were a couple times when he just said he was done teaching for the day, because of how terrible some of the students were being in class. Most professors are trying their best. Remember that. They’re human too.

Kind of odd, but please know how to write an email! One of my many roommates I’ve had over the years took the class I TA’d with her friend. Her friend emailed me asking about the midterm. The problem was that her email didn't have her actual name, there was no general greeting like “hey”, there was no signature, AND no subject line. So I didn’t answer it. She ended up asking me when she was at my apartment one night why I didn't answer. You won’t get an answer if you don’t do the bare minimum of writing a decent email.

Know your student ID number. You may or may not need it, but know it or have it on your phone in case.

For the love of god, if you need a question answered for a class, check the syllabus multiple times before emailing. Kind of related, I work at one of my school’s offices, and the idea of researching applies here too. I can’t tell you how many times students ask why they got kicked out of classes or why they didn’t graduate. It usually comes down to whether they actually paid their fees. Sometimes they don’t even declare a program! They don’t look at their school account regularly where they would see all this info. One graduate student actually told me they didn’t know why the school was threatening to kick them out of classes. What happened is that they enrolled in a class after school started and didn’t pay for it. They thought they did by magic I guess, because even though they thought they paid it, they also said they didn’t make an actual payment. PLEASE DON’T BE THAT STUDENT. Know how to register for classes, be aware of enrollment deadlines, and tuition deadlines too. On that note, MEET WITH YOUR ADVISOR BEFORE YOU ENROLL EACH SEMESTER. They’re there to help you! My undergrad advisor switched my curriculum to the newer one my junior year so I didn’t have to take an extra class.

Don’t be afraid to try out new things. I was always afraid to go into theatre or participate in other clubs. I regret that so much to this day. For me, it wasn’t even about making friends. It was about gaining new experiences and exploring what I liked. So if your school does a club fair- virtual or otherwise- go for it and try something out. You don’t have to commit, but it’s worth a try!

Know your resources! That professor I’m friends with? He talks to students about addiction, suicide, sexual assault, and just life in general. Before working with him as a part of two student organizations, I didn’t know how to help myself or others in situations like I mentioned earlier. School wasn’t very good about putting out those resources, because colleges in general don't want to admit these are issues students deal with. My school has counseling, $5 therapy by the grad students getting licensed, and a school psychiatrist. I’d recommend knowing how to get in touch with all your school’s mental health resources. Remember, you don’t have to be in crisis to go to therapy.

BIGGEST LESSON:

You’ll be studying and doing homework a lot, so really try enjoy everything else. I’m a huge introvert so I basically have about 1 really good friend from school and he was my professor (the one I TA’d for). I love him to death, but I wish I wasn’t so worried about what others thought (and still think) about me. I don’t drink or use drugs so it was really hard finding people that didn’t pressure or question my decisions about it. Find your people. If they’re not right for you, don’t be afraid to let them go. That’s probably the biggest piece of advice I would give myself 5 years ago. The good times aren’t worth it if your friends cause you to feel bad during the rest of the time. I can honestly say the “friend” group I had for most of undergrad was the root of my sudden depressive episodes, disordered eating behaviors, constant anger that I internalized, and engaging in behaviors that I didn’t know were considered to be on the suicidal ideation scale. It was an endless cycle. They weren't bad people, but they were bad for me. I think it took years to finally come to terms with it, because prior to college, I never had problems with friends and I was never involved in drama so I had no clue how I was supposed to handle all the problems. The cherry on top was that I lived with these people so I couldn’t just leave. In retrospect, I think those friendships were borderline emotionally and mental abusive. The constant walking on eggshells because of the hot and cold environment was a lot. Know your worth and enjoy your college time!

Sorry for the novel, but there was just so much to write about. If there’s something specific, let me know and I’ll try and help. :)

@archetypal-archivist

#ask

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timehealsfanfictionbka · 5 years ago

Text

Time Heals.....Chapter Thirty- Seven Pt. 1

Robyn felt different. She couldn’t really pinpoint why but she just knew something was different. She still hadn’t given Chris a clear answer on whether she was willing to try this relationship thing but he had been on his best behavior regardless. She had never taken the time to realize how much Chris’s life dominated their conversations. How much time she spent counseling and reassuring him. Hell, the first time he decided to call her when he moved back to Texas was for reassurance about his new job. She wasn’t going to pretend that she didn’t know why; when it came to Chris, that was the only time she felt like he needed or wanted her. The feeling of love never really transferred well beyond being his sounding board. Now things were a bit different, when he asked about her day, he didn’t speed past her saying it was ok to start talking about himself, he actually asked follow up questions, was a bit more persistent in actually caring what her day was about. It had only been a few weeks so she wasn’t jumping for joy just yet but the fact he’s even trying she’d give him a bit of credit for. Now she was waiting for it to be consistent; the first time he feels impatient with her would really tell the true story. He could just be waiting her out, hoping that she’d back down and just be the way he wants. She thought about it but the feeling never sat right with her, putting her trust him had never been easy and considering their most recent history with Tiana and such, it was becoming even harder. She told him about how his lack of effort with Tiana came off to Tiana but she never went deeper into the impression of him that it gave to her. She felt like she was back in high school again, watching him run through Shelly, Mercedes, Carmen etc.; a bunch of girls giving their all for him to give them nothing but a Coke and a smile, just to up and leave when he got ready. He was a girl-magnet and they all seemed ready to fall at his feet; unfortunately, she was one of them. Chris did whatever and she forgave him. His overprotectiveness stalled her teenage love life meanwhile he had girlfriend after girlfriend and yet she never said a word. He just had this undeniable aura that drew you in and held you hostage but it felt so good you never felt like it was a hostage situation until you actually wanted to be free. Trying to free yourself of Chris’s charm was more of you fighting yourself than him, which is more difficult than people could imagine. It took him breaking her heart to break his hold on her and a part of her wasn’t sure she was strong enough to get back into the ring with him. She wanted to trust him but she saw what happened once you do trust him and it just doesn’t seem worth it yet.

“Liz, can you hold my calls for the next hour? I need some peace after those meeting this morning,” Robyn said through the intercom to her secretary.

“Yes Robyn. Are you ordering lunch soon?”

“Yes, I’ll take care of it though. Are you going out for lunch?”

“Just to the cafeteria.”

“Take an extra hour when you go.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“No problem.”

Robyn pulled her hair back into a ponytail then pressed the button that dropped the motorized curtain over her office door. She went to her closet and pulled out a blanket and a travel pillow before moving over to her couch. She had been in meetings since she got to her office and it was going on 12:30 in the afternoon. Nothing she hated more than the day before budget deadlines.

Chris frowned as her phone rang repeatedly before sending him to voicemail.

“She might be in a meeting,” he murmured to himself as he walked into her office building. He stopped at the service desk to sign in. The security guard reviewed his ID as he signed in before directing him to the elevators. Chris nodded his head in thanks as he pressed the up button on the elevator. It stopped on the tenth floor and Chris walked over to Liz’s desk, “Hi Liz, is she in?”

“She’s in but taking a long lunch. Do you want me to check if she’s available for you.”

“If you can. I don’t want to disturb her.”

“No problem.”

Chris waited as Liz knocked on the office door. A few moments passed before it opened and Robyn stood in the doorway, “Hey you. Something wrong?”

“No, I had something for you but if you’re busy it can wait.”

“No, it’s fine.I was just taking a break. Come in.”

Robyn stepped back as Chris walked into her office. She looked at the clock then at Liz, “you can go to lunch now if you want. No rush if you want to wait until 1 like usual.”

“I gotta finish up the memo from your meeting earlier so I’ll leave at one.”

“Ok.”

Robyn went inside and closed her office door.

Chris was leaning against her desk as Robyn went back to her couch, “you ok, Babe?”

“I’m ok. Tired. Been in meetings since 7:30 this morning up until about 15 minutes ago.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve came at another-”

Robyn waved him off as she interjected, “it’s fine. I like seeing you. What’d you need to talk to me about?”

“I actually wanted to give you these,” Chris replied as he held an envelope in his hand, “I didn’t want to assume you’d want to go together but I figured I’d ask.”

Robyn leaned forward to take the envelope, “What is it?”

“Just something I thought you might like to go to.”

“Have a seat. You standing is making me feel awkward.”

Chris chuckled and sat down in the chair next to her couch as Robyn opened the envelope, “So what you think?”

“I think you’re more multifaceted than I assumed. A museum?”

“It’s a grand opening and my boss is apart of the committee and gave me tickets to the opening gala.”

“I think your boss likes you.”

“She’s a beautiful woman but God no.”

Robyn laughed, “at least you didn’t try and play it off like she wasn’t attractive.”

“We’ve been getting along so well, no need to ruin that over something so trivial. So what you think?”

“You really wanna bring me around your big wig supervisors?”

“There’s nobody else that I’d want by my side than you.”

Robyn smiled, “flirting with me already.”

“I’m always flirting with you.”

“Ok, Mr. Charming. What’s the attire?”

“Black tie. Formal. Along those lines.”

“It's next weekend.”

“Yea.”

‘Chris, how long have you had these tickets?”

“Honestly? A few weeks. So much happened so fast and I didn’t want you to feel like I was trying to rush you or anything then I was trying to find the right time to ask and now here we are.”

“Come here,” Robyn patted a spot next to her on the couch and Chris moved to sit beside her, “you seem so nervous.”

“This is a big step considering our uncertain status.”

“Uncertain status?”

“We haven’t exactly established that we’re in a relationship, just dating.”

“Dating is a clear status, it indicated exclusivity. I’m not seeing anybody else.”

“Neither am I, it’s just- I don’t know, dating doesn’t sound that permanent.”

“What it sounds like doesn’t matter as what it exactly is. It feels permanent to me, what would make it feel more permanent to you?”

“Not sure. I think I’m just scared about you changing your mind.”

“You haven’t given me a reason to change my mind so why would I?”

“I don’t know. This is new to me.”

“Sadly enough, I know. I watched you run through girl after girl with no problems as a teenager; ain’t never had to work this hard before.”

“I can take hard work, I just never felt this unsure about anything.”

“That happens when there are real consequences to your actions, it just means you’ve become more self-aware of what you say and do.”

“I definitely have.”

“You’re growing, Chris and once you get to be the complete man that you wish to be, you won’t even remember how uncomfortable it was getting there.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. So you got a color in mind?”

“I’m partial to Black.”

“Black I can do. So what you doing after this?”

“Nothing. I had a half day and decided to take advantage of it.”

“You wanna spend my lunch time with me? I ain't gonna do anything but take a long nap but-”

“I could use a nap.”

“Think this couch can hold both of us.”

“We might have to squeeze together a little bit but it should work.”

Robyn giggled, “you lay down first because you’re bigger than me.”

Chris tugged off his jacket and tossed onto the nearby chair before lying down on the couch. Robyn put the envelope with the tickets on her desk before returning to lay down next to Chris on the couch. She shifted a few times before Chris tugged her on top of him and pulled the blanket over them, “baring too much movement from you, we should be good and keep this PG13.”

Robyn laughed, “you don’t get hard that easy.”

“With you, nothing is a guarantee.”

“Oh. Ok.”

Robyn sighed as she wrapped her arms around him as far as they would go and Chris did the same to her, “I didn’t realize how much I needed this but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Whenever you want me. I’m just a phone call away, you know?”

“I know.”

Chris kissed her temple as he smoothed his hands along her back, “I love you, Robyn.”

“I love you too, VA.”

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

“Wait Mommy, if you’re going on a date with Daddy, where are we going?” Erica asked as they sat with Robyn at the kitchen table. They had just finished dinner and Robyn wanted to let the girls know that she wouldn’t be home this weekend.”

“Well, Mama Joyce said she would watch you until me and your dad gets home from the gala. Chris is gonna pick you up and bring you to his house Sunday morning since it’ll be late by the time we get back.”

“You’re spending the night at Daddy’s house again?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Ooooooo,” Erin said with an arch of her brow, “we’re not getting any more siblings, are we?”

“No, that’s a big jump from a simple date, Ms. Erin.”

“I mean it can happen right?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You want us to have another baby?”

“Yea. Daddy needs a son.”

“Well what about me?”

“Well it’d be your son too.”

Robyn chuckled, “I knew I should’ve left that part out.”

“It’s ok. Seriously, we’re really happy you and Daddy are working things out,” Erica interjected, “you both seem a lot happier.”

“I don’t want you to get your hopes up for anything, we’re just seeing how things play out for right now.”

“That’s better than nothing so we’ll take it.”

Robyn smiled as Erica leaned into her arm, “y’all have been really waiting for this to happen, huh?”

“Well once Daddy got divorced, we figured it wouldn’t be a horrible idea if you and him decided to go out.”

“Would you have said anything if we had never told you?”

“Not to you and Daddy but yea.”

“Wait a minute, who else are y’all spoken to about me and your Daddy dating?”

“Mama Joyce and Mama Fenty mainly.”

“You told your Mama Fenty?”

“Yea, she said she was gonna wait until you called and told her before she said anything since she didn’t want us to get in trouble for telling.”

“So if those two know that means the entire family knows.”

“Pretty much.”

Robyn shook her head, “so much for taking it slow and private.”

“Mommy, if you and Daddy get married, are you gonna actually change your last name this time?”

“I don’t know. We’d have to talk about that if it happens.”

“Why didn’t you change your name to Daddy Michael’s last name?”

“Because of you, y’all had my last name so I figured it’d be easier for legal purposes to just keep my maiden name.”

“Oh.”

“Besides it seemed weird for you both to have the last name Fenty while me and Michael had a different last name.”

“Well are you gonna change our names now?”

“Speaking of that, your Dad was wondering if you were opposed to taking his last name. He’s in the process of getting your birth certificates updated and figured he’d kill two birds with one stone so to speak.”

“So our last names would be Brown?”

“Yup.”

“That’s fine with me. Erin?”

“I’m fine with it.”

“Good. I’ll let him know that. As for this whole date night thing, I know y’all will be fine at Mama Joyce’s house but just in case you need either of us.”

“Mommy, we can handle this. I know you haven’t been on a lot of dates in a long time before it’s no different than when we visit Mama Joyce any other time.”

“That is true.”

“Are you excited?”

“I am. A little nervous too.”

“Why?”

“As you said I haven’t done this a lot.”

“Did you date a lot when you were younger?”

“Not really.”

“Was Daddy your first boyfriend?”

“No but I didn’t have many.”

“Did Daddy date a lot?”

Robyn chuckled, “A lot might not be descriptive enough. Let’s just say your Daddy had a lot of girls falling all over themselves for him.”

“Well he is cute.”

“Your Dad is very cute.”

“Glad you think so.”

Robyn turned around at the sound of Chris’s voice, “what are you doing here?”

Erin and Erica ran over to hug him and Chris grabbed them tight.

“That’s quite a hello.”

Robyn tilted her head and Chris laughed, “Hi Christopher. What are you doing here?”

“Hi Robyn. I came to see my girls. Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Nope, just after dinner conversation.”

“Nice, can I join?”

“Sure, if you have something relevant to contribute.”

“I think I can manage that.”

“Daddy, are you staying the night?” Erin asked.

“No, I just wanted to see you guys. I missed you this week.”

“We missed you too, Daddy.” Erica replied, “we were talking about your date tomorrow. Are you ready?”

“As ready as I can be but this isn’t something totally new to me and your mom.”

“It’s not. This isn’t your first date?”

“No. Why would you-” Chris looked over at Robyn and she was shaking her head, “your mom never told you about our other dates?”

“Other dates? How many?”

“Like two or three. You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t tell them. We were still in the building stages technically,” Robyn interjected

“Wow Mommy and I thought we talked about everything,” Erica replied.

Robyn shook her head as she grabbed Erica’s hand, “when I felt it was necessary then we would’ve talked about it. Things weren’t serious yet. No need to take it personal.”

“So are they serious now?”

“I told you about this date, didn’t I?”

“Do you love each other?”

“Erica, maybe-” Chris started to talk but Robyn interrupted, “yes, we love each other but relationships are to be built on a lot more than that. We don’t want to get too far ahead of ourselves, ok?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“You girls go get ready for bed, we’ll be up in a minute to say goodnight.”

“Ok.”

They each hugged their parents before leaving out of the kitchen. Robyn turned to Chris and leaned into one of her hands, “I thought you weren’t gonna make it over here tonight.”

“I told you that I would try.”

“That you did. How are you?”

“I’m great. How are you?”

“I’m ok.”

“Something wrong?”

“The girls asked if we were gonna have another baby.”

“Oh.”

“Yea and they asked if we get married if I was changing my last name.”

“Oh. They were getting kind of deep once you told them about our date.”

“Uh yea. Oh they are ok with changing their last names.”

“That’s great. I can send the paperwork into my attorney tomorrow then.”

“You mad at me?”

“About what?”

“Me not telling them about our previous dates.”

“Not mad. A little hurt but I understand.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, I just didn’t want to say something and things go left, that’s all.”

“I understand besides I’ve been known to jump the gun a little bit anyway so it was probably best they didn’t know until we were both ready.”

“That was my logic, it really wasn’t personal.”

“I know. It’s fine.”

“You really drove over here to see them for five minutes?”

“Them and you. Five minutes is better than no minutes.”

“True but you could’ve Facetimed us or something.”

“Not the same.”

“Close enough.”

“Close but no cigar.”

“And what exactly do you get out of a face to face that you don’t get from a Facetime call?”

Chris arched his brow, “You really wanna know because I can show you better than I can tell you?”

“I’m asking you, aren’t I?”

“Come here.”

Robyn got up and walked over to Chris, who pulled her into his lap. She wrapped her arm around his neck as he settled his hand over her waist.

“For starters, I definitely can’t hold you through Facetime.”

“True.”

“And I definitely can’t kiss you either.”

“True but you haven’t done that yet.”

“I’m getting there.”

Robyn traced her fingertip along one of his earlobes, “you smell good.”

“Thank you. You using my lines on me?”

“It’s not a line when it's the truth.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Are you my man?”

“Yes.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

“Oh, so that’s how we feeling this evening.”

“Something like that. Can I have my kiss now?”

“You can take it whenever you want.”

“Don’t tempt me, I might surprise you.”

Chris’s brow went up and Robyn laughed. She leaned and pecked his lips three separate times before pulling back and running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, “you spending the night?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I would like you to but it’s up to you.”

“Considering I have my clothes for tomorrow already in my car, I will take you up on that offer. Couch or your room?”

“We can sleep in the same bed. We can’t really get into too much trouble especially with the girls here.”

“You really don’t want to find out how much trouble we can get into, I have my ways.”

“We’re not there yet.”

“I know, just saying I can get us there whenever you’re ready.”

“Maybe we should change the subject. This is supposed to stay PG13 and we have a date tomorrow.”

“Does the date have to be PG13?”

“Might change it to NG17 depending on the night.”

“I like my odds then.”

Robyn chuckled, “you plan this?”

“Nope. I really did just come to see you guys then go home. My clothes are only in the car because I picked them up from the dry cleaners earlier.”

“Oh ok.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you. I’d tell you if I didn’t.”

“Ok. Ready to say goodnight?”

“Yea. You wanna tell them you’re staying or no?”

“We can tell them, they’ll find out in the morning anyway.”

Robyn got up and took Chris’s hand before they upstairs to the Twins bedroom. Erin and Erica were each sitting on their respective beds as Chris and Robyn walked into the room.

“Everybody brush their teeth and everything?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Erica and Erin replied simultaneously.

“Y’all are holding hands, is Daddy staying the night?” Erica asked.

“Yes, he is so he’ll be here in the morning.”

“Can we sleep with you guys then?” Erin asked.

Robyn looked at Chris, “what you think?”

“It’s fine with me.”

“Then come on you two.”

“Yes!” Erica exclaimed.

Robyn and Chris laughed as they left the room with both girls following behind them. Erin and Erica climbed into Robyn’s bed as Robyn went to her closet. She dug around for a few minutes before handing Chris some basketball shorts and a t-shirt, “clearly you’ve been here a lot if I got your clothes in my closet.”

“More like you’ve been in my closet a lot and keep forgetting to return what you borrow.”

“Whatever.”

Chris left into the bathroom as Robyn moved to climb in the side of the bed beside Erica, “y’all were waiting up just to see if he was staying, weren’t you?”

“Yea. We like when we’re all together, right Erin?”

“Yup. It’s always better when Daddy’s here too.”

“I’m glad you love having him around. Ok, Erica scoot over a little bit more.”

Erica moved closer to her sister just as Chris came out of the bathroom. He looked at the three women in the bed, “Robyn, we gotta get you a bigger bed.”

Robyn laughed, “nah, we just have giant kids.”

“That too. Alright girls move over so Daddy can have some room.”

Erin and Erica both moved to the right side of the bed and shock covered Robyn’s face as Chris climbed in the bed behind her, “What are you doing?”

“Getting comfortable.”

Chris turned off the light as he spooned Robyn’s body, “Goodnight Ladies.”

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

Robyn tossed her duffle bag onto Chris’s bed before plopping down the loveseat across from it, “you ever plan on back into your master bedroom?”

“I have to redecorate it since I finally gutted the room.”

“Gutted? You got rid of everything?”

“Yea. All the walls have been primed in white and there’s no furniture left.”

“Wow. I thought you were just gonna a get new bed or something.”

“That was the plan but by the time I finished cleaning everything up, I just decided to start over from scratch.”

“Oh. You got anybody coming to look over it, I can recommend an interior designer?”

“Nah, not yet. I was thinking about doing it myself but I’m not the best at picking colors and stuff.”

“Oh, it’s easy.”

“You wanna help me?”

Robyn shrugged her shoulders, “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s better than a no. We got some time we have to get dressed, what you want to do?”

“Nap.”

“You’ve been sleeping a lot lately.”

“I’ve been working late a lot lately.”

“At the office or-“

“At home. I only work late at the office if I have someone to watch the girls.”

“What’s going on?”

“Two big construction project bids were won, now we gotta work like hell to meet the requirements. I advised against taking on two big projects at once but no one wanted to listen to me so now I have to juggle the budget to make it feasible and considering we can’t back out because it’ll be a major loss, I’ve been running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to find money.”

“Wow.”

“Yea, so it’s been stressful.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I could’ve helped you out.”

“There wasn’t really much for you to do but I appreciate the offer.”

“Now you know I could’ve brought the girls to my house so you wouldn’t have to keep bringing work home. I know how much you don’t like having to do that.”

“I know but its part of what I signed up for unfortunately, besides it’s not that big of a deal. I’ll figure it out, I always do.”

“You don’t have to do it by yourself, you know?”

“I know and I’m not doing it by myself. This is everyday shit. It is what it is.”

Chris sighed, “well then you definitely need to take a nap. I’ll set an alarm to wake you up. What time?”

“What time we leaving?”

“Seven.”

“You can set it for five then. That’ll give me enough time to shower and do my hair.”

“Alright.”

Chris moved Robyn’s bag onto the floor beside the bed and pulled back the covers, “you go ahead and rest, I’ll give you some peace and quiet.”

“You’re welcome to stay with me, if you want.”

“I’ll come back later. I need to do something first.”

“Ok.”

Robyn walked over and kissed him, “see you in a few hours.”

She climbed into the bed and pulled the covers up to her neck. Chris winked at her before closing the curtains and turning off the lights, “have a good nap, Babe.”

“Thank you.”

Chris left out the room, cracking the door behind him.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Robyn reached around in the dark without opening her eyes to turn off the alarm. She groaned as her hand couldn’t find it to turn it off. She sat up and stared right into Chris’s face. He smiled as he turned off the alarm using his phone, “Hey you.”

“How long you’ve been sitting there?”

“Like two minutes. Ready to get up?”

“I guess,” she said with a yawn.

“The shower is on. Towels and stuff are sitting on top of the toilet cover. Your garment bag and stuff is hanging up on the outside of the closet. You need anything else?”

“Nope, that should be all.”

“Alright. See you in a little bit.”

“Thanks VA.”

“No problem, Baby.”

Chris hummed lowly to the music coming from his phone as he lined up the nape of his neck. He pulled one of his curls and frowned as it bounced back, “might be time to cut my hair.”

“I hope not. I love your hair.”

Chris turned around and smiled at Robyn as she stood in the doorway of the hall bathroom, “that’s the only reason why I haven’t cut it but it’s getting a bit long.”

Robyn shrugged as she reached up to twirl a curl around her finger, “you look cute with curls though.”

“I probably won’t cut it off completely, just shorter.”

“Eh, that’s ok, I guess.”

Chris chuckled, “you ready?”

“I’m not even dressed. I’m definitely not wearing a robe.”

“Oh, I thought maybe you had your dress on under the robe, that’s all.”

“No. I need your help putting it on.”

“Oh, just give me a few minutes.”

“Don’t rush on my account, we got some time.”

“I was finished anyway.”

Chris turned off his clippers and washed his hands, “let’s get you into this dress.”

Robyn turned and Chris followed her down the hall to his bedroom. She sat down on the bed as Chris opened the garment bag and carefully removed it from around her dress.

“Wow, this is beautiful,” Chris murmured.

“Thank you. I gotta be around your people, guess I should pull out all the stops.”

“You can pull them out at anytime if they look like this.”

Robyn giggled, “alright let's get this done.”

Robyn stood up and dropped the robe onto the bed. Chris’s eyebrow raised at her undergarments or lack thereof, “you should really warn me before you stand topless in my bedroom.”

Robyn scoffed, “I’ve been naked in front of you already, don’t be so dramatic.”

“I’m not. I just wasn’t expecting you to be wearing so little.”

“I have on nipple covers and underwear, definitely more than so little.”

“Whatever you say.”

Chris took the velvet hanger out the dress and moved to place it over Robyn’s hair. It slid over her easily, the hem stopping right at her calves. Robyn shifted her leg, opening the slit that went from calf to mid-thigh. The fabric conformed to her body as if she was sewn into it as Chris zipped up the back of the dress. The sharp v in the bodice accentuated her medium breasts as the corset-like boning accentuated her smaller waist. Chris stepped back as she bent down to slide on her pumps. Robyn ran her hands over her straightened hair before turning to Chris, “what do you think?”

“You look incredible.”

“Thank you.”

“A part of me wants to show you off but another part of me wants to keep you in the house to myself.”

Robyn chuckled, “now that’s a compliment I like to hear. How about we do both? We shut the party down then have our own private party when we get back.”

“You wanna make this a short night?”

“Yea, I think I have an idea for something a bit more fun than hobnobbing with the rich.”

“Hmm…you’ve already made plans?”

“I’ve made some calls to some friends. I think it’s something you might like if I remember your old hobbies correctly.”

“Now you have me intrigued.”

Robyn smiled, “good. First, let’s get to this party. Did I leave my coat in your car?”

“Yea, it’s on the back of the passenger seat.”

“Ok cool. You ready to go?”

“After you.”

Chris held open the door and Robyn walked out of the bedroom with Chris right behind her.

#chrianna #timehealsfanfiction

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a-splash-of-stucky · 6 years ago

Text

missing you

Read this on AO3 Square Filled: Marathon Sex Ship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers Rating: E Major Tags: Daddy Kink, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Dom!Steve, Orgasm Denial Word Count: 2317 Summary:

“You be a good boy and not come til’ I get back, okay?”

Created for @mcukinkbingo

Notes: This is probably the last Kink Bingo fic that I’m writing this year, as uni is really starting to get busy. Fear not - I will write more Stucky smut in future, just not anytime soon :)

p.s. - i’m on a roll today, this is the third and final instalment of my birthday fic-bonanza :D

Stucky Masterlist

Bucky’s phone starts ringing just as he’s getting out of the bathroom.

He curses loudly; the darn thing’s hooked up to his charger, which is on the other side of the room.

He performs an impressive leap (okay, more of a disappointing belly-flop, let’s be honest, now) across his queen-sized bed to retrieve it, causing the towel wrapped around his waist to fall off in the process. There’s only one person it could be at this hour, so doesn’t bother checking the caller ID before he swipes right to answer.

“Hello?” he says breathlessly.

“Hey, sweetheart,” says Steve, voice soft and tender.

It’s amazing how two words have the power to change his day entirely.

Just like that, Bucky feels a million pounds lighter, the crushing burden of his worries melting off his shoulders into some inconsequential puddle on the floor. The tension and anxiety that has kept him wound up tight all day bleeds out of every muscle, and he sinks deeper into the mattress. Bucky pushes away all thoughts of his impending deadlines and upcoming tests, allowing all of his attention to be devoted to Steve.

“Hi,” Bucky answers, feeling like a lovesick sixteen-year-old. He twists onto his back and shimmies up the bed until he’s slouching against the headboard, then tucks a couple of pillows under his back to make himself more comfortable.

Steve chuckles, a low and throaty sound in Bucky’s ear. “How’ve you been, baby?” he asks.

Bucky hums noncommittally. He really wishes he could tuck his face against Steve’s neck and forget about everything else, even for a minute.

“Okay, I guess,” he answers, after a pause. “The usual stuff. Classes, library, went to the lab to work on my group project.”

Steve hums. “When did you get home?”

“Um…like twenty minutes ago?” Bucky says, eyes darting to the clock on his bedside table to check. “Yeah, about that, um…I just had a shower, and I’ll grab dinner in a bit.”

Bucky pauses, chewing on his bottom lip. The words are banging on the back of his teeth, poised and ready to leap out.

“I—” he cuts himself off before he can finish the sentence.

“What is it, Buck?” Steve asks gently.

Bucky exhales slowly, his eyes sliding shut as he collects his nerves. “I miss you, Daddy,” he breathes.

It’s a new...thing in their relationship, a dynamic that they haven’t fully explored. Bucky loves calling Steve that, and Steve goes all schmoopy whenever they start experimenting, but the words still feel a little foreign in Bucky’s mouth.

On the other end of the line, Steve inhales sharply, before making a sympathetic noise in his throat. “I know, sweetheart, I know,” he murmurs, voice taking on that sweet, caring tone that it always has when they get like this.

“It’s only for one more week,” Steve reminds him. “Just seven more days, baby boy.”

Bucky whines in frustration. Steve’s been working at the Stark Industries’ London office for the past two weeks, supervising the beta-tests for a major tech launch that’s scheduled to take place at the start of next year. This is the longest that they’ve been apart in the nine months that he and Steve have been together.

“I know,” Bucky huffs. “S’just hard without you.”

Steve sighs. “I know it is – and I miss you too, baby. So much.”

Bucky catches his bottom lip between his teeth, hearing the hidden meaning behind Steve’s words. “What d’you miss, Daddy?” he asks playfully.

Steve huffs out a laugh. “I miss cuddling you,” he says sincerely, “I miss waking up next to you, I miss coming home to you everyday, I miss cooking together, I miss the sex—god, the sex!”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of Bucky’s throat. “I knew you’d say that,” he chuckles.

Steve snorts. “Baby boy, when I come home, we’re not leaving the house for a solid two days.”

“Only two?” Bucky asks, feigning shock.

“Maybe three.”

Bucky shakes his head in fond amusement. “What’re we gonna do, Daddy?”

Steve hums thoughtfully. “Want me to tell you, Buck? Want me to give you something to look forward to?”

“Please,” Bucky breathes, voice borderline whimpering.

“Well, when I get home — heh, I’m probably gonna be too tired to do much, honestly. Maybe we can order in?” Steve suggests, laughing wryly.

“Sure,” Bucky says agreeably. He makes a mental note to have dinner ready for when Steve gets back next Thursday — no way in hell he’s gonna subject his man to crappy takeout on his first night back. He’ll see if he can swap his afternoon lab session with someone from the morning slot, so that he can get home in time to cook something up.

Steve makes a quiet thinking noise. “I’ll take a nice, long shower when I get back, and you’re gonna join me.”

Bucky shivers, a small smile creeping onto his lips. “Like…d’you mean a shower shower, or…a playtime shower?”

“Did you not hear the part about me being tired when I get back, little boy?” Steve asks, his words stern but his voice playful.

“I did, I did,” Bucky says quickly, his smile growing wider. “Sorry, Daddy.”

“S’okay, baby boy. But, in answer to your question – I’ll take a proper shower, though I’m not saying no to some kissing and snuggling.”

“M’kay, I like that,” Bucky murmurs.

“But,” Steve says dramatically, “Once I’ve gotten a good night’s sleep? Mm, I’m gonna ravish you, baby boy, you can count on that.”

Bucky groans, cock twitching with interest. “How, Daddy?” he asks breathily, as the pleasurable warmth of arousal spreads through his body.

“Gonna wake you up with kisses,” Steve promises, “Everywhere, baby, til’ you’re squirming and hard and begging me to touch you.”

“Daddy,” Bucky whimpers. Between his legs, he feels his dick starting to fatten.

“There’s a store here, near my hotel,” Steve says abruptly. “I went in and got you some presents.”

“Like?”

“A new collar,” Steve replies.

Bucky moans, his cock swelling to full hardness at the mere thought. He loves his collar, the one that they keep at the back of Steve’s closet — it’s a thick and black and made of leather, with a silver buckle at the front.

But a new one? Oh, that’s a present that Bucky is very excited to play with.

Steve laughs softly, amused. “Also got you this,” he says. On the other end of the line, Bucky hears the sound of plastic rustling, then the click of a button, followed by a powerful buzzing noise. His brows pull together in confusion.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Can’t tell you,” Steve says, as the buzzing cuts off. “But I’m pretty sure you’ll like it.”

Bucky shivers in anticipation.

“So, where were we? Oh – yes, kissing you until you’re a begging mess, and maybe I’ll collar you after, give you some breakfast while you’re still hard.”

A shiver runs down Bucky’s spine as he imagines the scene. Maybe Steve’ll have him kneel between his thighs like a good boy. Maybe Steve’ll feed him little segments of fruit with his fingers, or spoonfuls of yoghurt. Maybe they’ll share a glass of water.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Steve chuckles, probably picking up Bucky’s harsh inhale. “Well, once we’ve both got some food in us, I think I’ll make you suck my cock.”

“Please—yes, Daddy,” Bucky whispers, “I wan’ it so bad.”

“I know, baby boy,” Steve croons, “You’d just sit there and take it, wouldn’t you? Let me use your mouth how I wanna — you’ll make me come, won’t you?”

Bucky nods, before he realises that Steve can’t see him. “Uh-huh,” he says, “I wanna make you feel good, Daddy.”

“You always do, sweetheart,” Steve replies.

Bucky squirms, his heart swelling with love at Steve’s fond, lovestruck tone. His dick is hanging thick and heavy between his legs, but he ignores it, in favour of focusing on what Steve is saying.

“Then…I think I’ll eat you out, baby,” Steve muses, “Bend you over the sofa, make you come with just my tongue licking into you.”

“I wan’ that,” Bucky pleads.

“I know you do, baby boy — you’d be crying with how badly you want it, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes.

“And once you’ve come on my tongue, I’d flip you over and take your pretty little cock in my mouth—”

Said pretty cock twitches at the thought. Bucky moans loudly, eager to voice his approval of his Daddy’s ideas.

“—You’d be so sensitive, wouldn’t you, baby? I’d make you come like that, and then I’d slick my fingers up and get ‘em in you, get your hole all loose and ready for my cock.”

Bucky whines, a blurt of pre-come dripping out of his dick from excitement.

“I’d make you come on my fingers,” Steve continues, “You won’t be gettin’ my dick until you come for me again, baby boy.”

“I’ll come for you, Daddy,” Bucky promises. “I’d be so wet for you.”

“Mmm, y’always are,” Steve rumbles, “And when you’re covered in come and sweat, I’d roll you onto your belly and get inside you—”

“Daddy,” Bucky moans, eyes fluttering shut as his resolve finally breaks; he curls his free hand around the base of his cock.

“Yeah, you’re thinkin’ about that, huh?” Steve rasps, “Thinkin’ ‘bout my cock all thick and hard inside you, splittin’ you open. I’d fuck you right, baby boy. Make you come so hard, make you feel so good.”

Bucky whimpers, tossing his head back as he strokes his fist over his dick, smearing his pre-come around to ease the glide. Slick, squelching noises fill the air; he doesn’t doubt that Steve can hear him on the other end of the line.

“So many things I wanna do to you, Buck, you got no idea,” Steve says, half to himself. “We’re gonna play with your new toys—”

“Yes, yes!” Bucky says enthusiastically.

“I wanna fuck you in the bed, I wanna take you in the shower, in the kitchen, in the living room,” Steve growls, voice low and gravelly. “I wanna fill you with my come, Buck – til’ it’s dripping down your legs—”

“Fuck,” Bucky bites out. He twists his thumb over the head of his shaft, teasing the sensitive ridge.

“Gonna fuck you til’ you’re gaping open, baby, til’ that pink lil’ hole can’t close up anymore,” Steve growls, “Fuck—I won’t even need to prep you, by the end – I could just slip into you, you’d be so wet and open for me.”

“Daddy—oh,” Bucky whimpers.

“You’re gonna be so sore when you go to class on Monday,” Steve tells him, “Your hole, your jaw, all your muscles – I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby, I promise.”

“Daddy—Daddy,” Bucky chants breathlessly.

“Are you touchin’ yourself, Buck?” Steve asks suddenly.

“Yeah—” Bucky answers, desperately gulping down a breath of air as his pleasure soars to a new level.

“Yeah? Got a hand on your cock—d’you feel good, baby?”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky pants breathlessly, “Wish it was you.”

Steve clucks his tongue. “Me too, baby—but you’re gonna be a good boy for me, right?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Bucky says immediately, even as his entire body is vibrating with pleasure, even though it’s becoming increasingly harder to listen to what Steve’s saying.

“Then be a good boy for me and stop,” Steve orders.

Bucky whines in frustration. “Daddy, please, I—”

“Now, little boy,” Steve says sternly, voice brooking no argument.

With great reluctance, Bucky takes his hand off his dick. The temptation to keep going is strong, so he fists his fingers in the sheets to stop himself from doing just that. He’s breathing harshly, skin slick with sweat and chest heaving with exertion. His dick is hard and aching, the tip slick with pre-come.

“You stopped, baby?”

“Yeah,” Bucky pants.

“Good boy,” Steve praises. Bucky ducks his head and smiles to himself, pleased to have made his Daddy proud.

“Now, listen – I want you to be a good boy for me and not come until I get back, okay? You can touch yourself however you like, but I don’t want you to come, got it?”

“But—”

“Who do you belong to?” Steve interrupts.

Oh fuck.

Bucky swallows around the sudden dryness in his throat. “You,” he whispers, eyelids slipping half-shut. He gnaws on his bottom lip as a haze of content settles over his mind.

“That’s right, little boy. And that means I know what’s best for you, right?”

“Uh-huh—yes, Daddy.”

“Right. So you be a good boy and not come til’ I get back, okay? Promise it’ll be worth it,” Steve says gently.

“Okay, Daddy,” Bucky says. He’d agree to anything Steve suggested, at this point.

“Okay, baby boy,” Steve murmurs. “I want you to put some clothes on — some boxers and one of my shirts, maybe?”

Bucky hums to signal his agreement.

“Yeah? And then I want you to go and get something to eat, okay? Do you need to work tonight, or can you sleep early?”

“Probably need to do some studying before I can turn in,” Bucky admits, with a sigh.

“Okay, do that — but I want you in bed before 11. Send me a picture as proof,” he adds.

Bucky’s lips twitch into a smile. “Yes, Daddy,” he says quietly.

“Good boy,” Steve praises, “You listen to me so well, don’t you? I gotta go now, but I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Love you.”

“Love you too,” Bucky murmurs, before pulling his phone away from his ear and hitting the red end call button.

His dick is still half-hard against his thigh, but his arousal has mellowed down significantly, and he’s content to ignore his cock for now. His Daddy’s given him a list of things to do and Bucky’s fully intends to be a good boy and listen to him.

One more week, he tells himself.

#mcukinkbingo #mcu kink bingo #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky fanfiction #stucky fanfic #steve x bucky #starbuck #wintershield #stucky smut #my writing

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bloomingednae · 7 years ago

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*inhales* *covers eye’s with hands * okakuri #11

You got it! Took more of a ‘slice of life’ moment/take on this, I hope you enjoy!

OTP Prompt Requests: OkaKuri Edition, “Hurt”

“And of all the things that I wanted to say fade to black,Are replaced by my memories come flooding back.” ~ “Together Alone” - Miles Away & Marcus James (song insp: x )

“She’s as sturdy and independent as she can make herself, but, you of all people, know that isn’t the case. She needs you.“

04:00.

His bedside clock blared the obnoxious numbers in front of his face as he turned to look. It was early, he knew; he didn’t have class until much later, and sleeping would be wise, but…

Turning over onto his back side to face the ceiling, he brought his arm across his forehead and sighed.

She was mad at him. Or more precisely, they had gotten into an argument.

Typical small arguments like the occasional teasing and jabs were the usual norm; however, he knew the moment he stepped over the line the moment he spoke harmful words to her. The minute it left his mouth as he was on a video chat call with her, he saw her expression change; first darkened, and then angry.

He’s seen her fair share of angry moments; for the most part, he was on 40% of that, but never were they any serious than the typical annoyances she threw at him.

This time, however, her expression was different; sullen, fiery, and much more sharp. The anger that swept her expression quickly took hold of her and the conversation, and before he knew it, she had hung up and never bothered to call back.

That was over a week ago, and still no contact from her since then.

As he stared at the ceiling, he reached over for his cell phone that was off to the side, without so much as to look. Instinctively, he tapped the phone screen and it came to life, blaring the time again, this time at 04:03.

He scrolled through his contacts and as he came upon the recipient, he tapped on the number without giving a second thought and placed the phone against his ear.

Within a matter of three rings, the phone picked up, slight surprise in her voice.

“Okabe-san? Why are you calling me-”

“Hiyajo-san. I just have one question to ask you; is Kurisu near you?”

Hesitation at first, and then he heard her slightly shift the phone on her ear as she sighed.

“She was. We’re on lunch break right now. I walked away when I saw your name on the caller ID,” she responded, sounding already exasperated. “Okabe-san, you called the wrong person.”

“I know.”

More shifting. He could practically see Maho shaking her head at his logic.

“You’re both idiots, you know that?”

Okabe braced himself, but not for that comment. He spoke, unsure of the turn in circumstances.

“What?”

A sigh, and then a frustrated voice. “Look, I don’t have much time because she’s probably wondering why I’m away for so long. But all I have to say is, just call her already.”

This time, it was Okabe’s turn to sigh. “I have-”

“Not enough,” Maho replied coolly. “You know Kurisu; she doesn’t express herself true feelings very much and when she does, it’s all in jumble speech.”

Okabe almost snorted. That was an understatement of the century. He, of all people, would know.

He could hear Maho sigh again. “Look, I don’t know what happened, but all I know is that it’s enough to affect her at work. She’s spacing out half the time, presented the wrong material to me and the professor yesterday, and she didn’t even finish the report that was due today. Granted, me and the professor are usually lenient with deadlines unless it’s for a conference or publication date, but this is Kurisu we’re talking about…”

Okabe was taken aback at this thought. Kurisu, struggling at work? With research and papers? That’s not the experiment-loving girl he always knew.

“In any case,” Maho’s voice broke through his train of thought, “I’m not here to tell you guys what you should and shouldn’t do because…w-well, this isn’t my relationship!”

He face palmed to himself. She had a point. Asking Maho was like Kurisu asking Daru on how he is.

Okabe paused and thought for a moment, then shook his head with an expression of indifference. No, not quite. But that’s the best metaphor he could go through at the moment.

“Okabe-san.”

The seriousness in Maho’s voice caught him off guard as he began to listen again.

“Just talk to her. Keep trying. Kurisu is stubborn, prideful, and extremely hard to pin down when it comes to more…deep emotions. She won’t open to anyone unless she really knows you. There are two layers to her; Makise Kurisu, and Kurisu. She herself knows that she hides herself from the world, and she’ll continue to do just that because rationally, she doesn’t need to open to anyone, she thinks.”

“But,” Maho continued, in quicker voice he noticed, “she opened up to you. She found something worth opening up for, something worth sharing her love of everything, from her research to her own opinions of you. And once she’s found it, she’s stubborn enough to never let go.”

“You’re different, Okabe-san,” Maho said. “She may be mad at you, but it’s not like she doesn’t want to hear from you. I’m sure it can get annoying to deal with her confusing emotions…hell, even I would know…”

Maho mumbled underneath her breath before clearing her throat. She paused for a bit and as she spoke again, Okabe could almost hear her slightly smiling.

“She’s as sturdy and independent as she can make herself, but, you of all people, know that isn’t the case. She needs you. She really does.”

“So,” she said as she wrapped up, “talk to her. She’s hurt over what you said, that much she told me, but I can’t get anything else out of her.”

He suddenly heard her phone become static for a split moment, before he heard hurried footsteps. Maho returned to the phone a few minutes later, breathing.

“Crap, she found me. I’m leaving now because I swear if I get in trouble-”

Okabe shook his head. Kurisu was still instilling fear in people even overseas.

“Y-yeah…wait, Hiyajo-san.”

“Hm? Make it quick.”

“…thank you.”

There was a slight pause on her end before she gradually spoke, honesty in her voice.

“Any time, Okabe-san.”

The faint sound of a ‘click’ was heard as she hung up the phone, and Okabe vaguely wondered if Kurisu caught on to her conversation.

As he lay facing up towards the ceiling, he began to recall aspects of their conversation. True that he is with Kurisu, but everything else that Maho said…they were facts he always knew, but never actually realized.

She was stubborn, frustrating, and sometimes downright insufferable with her remarks and prideful comments, but in all, he could never stay mad at her for so long.

And yet, in a flurry of emotions, he said something that caused her pain.

He clenched his fist. He didn’t jump through multiple worldlines just to hurt her again.

The image of her came to his mind, her tsundere and loving sides; everything that made her completely confusing and intriguing all at once. She was unpredictable and never constant; like an ever-lasting experiment, she was a wonder in his eyes and a love that he could never explain, only feel.

It was at that moment that he couldn’t stand it anymore. As he grabbed his phone again, he pulled up their Rine chat; hesitation at first, but he quickly typed in a message before he could stop himself again.

“Kurisu…can we talk when you’re free?”

#steins;gate #steins gate #okakuri #blooming drabbles s;g

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autoirishlitdiscourses · 3 years ago

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Discourse of Monday, 13 September 2021

I still need to explore ideas more collaboratively. All but two students of my guesses seems quite right to me for any further action to be sure to do this, and below 103 to drop into the main characters is constructed does to women and his weird foreshortened female figures, many of the Discussion Section Guidelines handout, there are no specific formatting or topical or length requirements for this paper, just sending me an email letting me know if you want to do so for purposes of satisfying the technical requirements on papers are penalized by one line because I have been exhausted in order to be taken as Irish is kind of plans for your section. I just sent you about. For one thing, and want to do to do more than five sections results in automatic course failure. Which, given the context of being paid to serve as mnemonic aids and that things are good I think that that's quite likely enjoy Hannah Arendt's book On the one in your work pay off in relation to this, then, but keep in mind what I hope you're feeling okay and getting at least one text by a character referred to only as the source you're using based on my Tumblr blog that are not, I think that your paper is well-written in a lot of fun. You substituted shadow for shadows in line 1582. Which texts I have myself occasionally noticed that I could give you some breathing room this week tomorrow! If you have any questions, OK? Great! And then give an amazing job. You picked a selection from the first section; c you have any other questions, OK? Of course, so if you want and take a look at the beginning of the group and what one can conclude from it, is to add additional material new ways of seeing people as masses. If you have questions about the poem's sense of rhyme, too, though, you get 90. But you really punch through to being more successful would be to have one specific suggestion: think about this during our first section; b write an A-range grade on the final, writing very short IDs, and then I'll get you a five-minute warning by holding up the appropriate time if you do an excellent opportunity to demonstrate mercy, I think that, I think that there's a larger point of analysis is a specific ethical theory about sex. I'm mean but in large part because it's good preparation for what will be paying attention to these questions, OK? I am absolutely not necessary to receive many emails waiting on replies to take a stand, and that there have been. There are also some textual problems that I get for going short, more specific idea of his own experience as a whole. I suspect means that he will be paying attention to these rules: people who see you then! Expressing a different direction.

As it is or is she operating in an in-depth manner and provided a good selection that you tell him you want to try the waters with discussion a bit nervous, which is already enough to juxtapose particular texts could be executed a bit jarring. Yeah, I think that choosing a smaller number of things well here. Full of his travel on the final. Thank you for doing such a strong recitation. Great!

Unless you have earned 97. Both of these have held off on making a specific format the question fully. An A paper goes beyond the length requirement. There are of course, you might compare it with him, ultimately, what do you think that dropping the class which can be found online at. I haven't seen the final and with food I can't promise to do what the relationship of Yeats poem to music and is willing to do so just let me know if you want to take so long to get this to be aggressive or confrontational, and moderate their responses and discussion of a warm summery evenin'; sittin' with your discussion on Francie's mother commits suicide; I think that you'll need to be set against each other with more rigor. Hi! Let me know as soon as possible you'll get that, as well as 1922, of course that it curved back to you. Let me know if you need to do what the professor has decided to outsource our campus email to earlier this year. He says that you have also pointed out, but because excellent papers avoid presuppositions, specify exactly what you call broad history and how it accomplishes what it would be for him. The last two weeks was due to nervousness and/or analyzing the material, and has children, and your language and thought about this in half if you want details. PAPERS RETURNED AFTER THE FINAL EXAM—You've done a lot of students—or if I can. Again, I'm happy to hear, but someone from the Latin phrase. I think that there are potentially productive move, but does perhaps suggest that you look at the heart of what you're doing all right. Quite frankly, the Riverside is a good reason why the IRA's treatment of his lecture pace rather than the fact that the overall goal is to say is simply a straight numerical calculation that was fair to the original deadline was. There are two primary classes of things that would be most helpful at this point. Eavan Boland, What We Lost Eavan Boland, What We Lost 5 p. There is a terrible thing: The study of 'Ulysses' is, specifically, to me.

You really did write a good choice. I think that there are some ways, you've done a lot of work that you want to keep bubbling in the front of the telltale signs that you've got a really good paper here in important ways. A weighting factor/, you were reciting. —Or if his ancestors are only other Nigerian emigrants? You picked a good job of dealing with the class 5% of the play.

Hi! Research Papers, Seventh Edition; there are a number of points. So I hope you had thought closely about how you might note that my comments can be in my 6 o'clock section, since we follow Bloom and other Heaney poems that will be on campus instead of seven on the paper just barely push you down to thanking the previous group had done was inappropriate. Have a good weekend, and I hope you had to say that you could do a solid job of tracing developments in Irish literature 30% of course and scratch and claw for every single one of your material you emphasize I think that you need 94% on the final. It may take me a couple of days to grade is worth 100%, 11 students had 97% or above. She twentythree. However, if your dorm forces you to follow up with an A-range grades, discussed in the Ulysses lectures which, given the facts of Yeats's Under Ben Bulben The Stare's Nest to the section as a hard selection. Having someone else may beat you to next week! I'll see you in the quarter when we talked after section, but students who wanted classes for which I suspect that these can both be there on time. See you this week, believe it is necessary, but my assumption is that the paper requires a fair reading to my office hours due to recall. Answer: a bridewell is a lot of ways in which you can carry yourself, it currently reads like a reasonable guess is that I disagree with, and responded in a lot of things that interest you to recite and discuss can be here is some meaningful reason why the comparison is worthwhile to make sure that there are a real improvement over her midterm score, wasn't enough to look for cues that this is how you did well here, and you make sure that you're going to be more specific about your evaluative criteria, which requires you to achieve even greater clarity about your paper as coming in yesterday I'll get right back to you with issues that came up effectively to larger-scale point in her blue book to the deadline for you—part of a rather difficult passage, but should I hope your summer has been posted to the connections between the Irish are preeminent in a comparable phenomenon, and Dexter here. This is not caught up with it in my box when you've done a strong job! Certainly! If you have missed for purposes of education? That's fine and I suspect that that area is ultimately where your readings were excellent and opened up possibilities for why this second reaction might occur, and have an A-territory with 1 point out of 500 total for the week preceding the section Twitter stream that will facilitate discussion.

Just for the final! You have lots of good plays: thanks to! You are absolutely capable of doing this in case of emergency, please let me know. You Should Avoid 'How-to' Guides Like This One By the way that there are possibly many good ways to the Ulysses lectures which, given Ulysses, with anyone other than the rules. Another small note: Your paper is due. The Stolen Child Yeats, The Stare's Nest again so that it could, loved them, paying for their recitation plan in case people don't jump on this assignment. Some theories: Robert Berry's/Ulysses/is that my office SH 2432E, provided that you understand why I've marked some places. Things Are For Young People via HuffPostBiz Welcome to the group up well for you, based on attendance I won't post them unless you manage to apply it well to the novel for your listeners. I felt like your writing, in love with Rosalind, writes a letter grade; e. By defining your key terms more explicitly and say exactly what you want any changes made I will take this topic, and you did a good reading of a necessary biographical connection for the quarter; b it's OK in unusual circumstances, you basically need to confirm that no one else at all by Patrick Kavanagh, I think that your basic idea is sound and may not, will be worth a total B-. If you've read and interpret as a TA, I think you overlooked people in the English Department's grad student office space, and I enjoyed it a strong, gun-toting, fast-drawing, stereotypically Southern masculine characters survive and prosper under the impression that I need to participate actively in the way that is entitled Samuel Beckett: The Clancy Brothers and the Stars I just finished replying to the longest possible stretch of time and managed to respond to everyone's first proposal before I get to what other people to specific parts of Ben Bulben you're reciting? A-scale course concerns and themes of the text in question. I'll try hard to pull your participation grade that you need any advice, OK? You are perfectly capable of doing even better. But you really want to go to bed late tonight, the two A-range paper grades discussed in the attendance/participation calculation. At the same way my first year in a few things that would then be reciting as soon as possible from the book. You should turn into a more luggage than you have any questions that will help you to write a paper, but if there was a large number of ways; I think, might have heard about. You are all small things that you be an outline of your plans by Friday. Grade: B After restriction for MLA conformance: B—I think that pinning down what the standard essay structure instead of panicking and answering them yourself. Have a good job with it, and your grade as if the first place, and then ask them to larger concerns. Beyond that, to recite this week to read.

You handled your material you emphasize if the first line of thought, that I think that this will hurt your grade. Of course! I think that it's likely it is, an interesting contemporary poet. Ultimately, what this actually means is that they are actually rather disappointing, though I still say that I didn't anticipate at the last week in which you are of course texts this may very well here, and what you'll want to do more grading someone asked in lecture, you want to switch to taking the safe position instead of copying it and would give you some thoughts. Don't forget to bring in other components.

I remember myself how hard you've been kind of a text, although it could be. Picking a selection from one of your adult life. You were clearly a bit more breathing room this week is the question, and thinking about mothers in Irish culture, although if you have not held your grade: A police officer. I'll look forward to your workload, but I'll have your copy of the deeper structures. However, the irruption. Another, non-aligned in the class more, though. Discussion notes for week 4. As you point out, and how they pay off a number of fingers at the appropriate number of ways. Section Materials for English 150, so I can't be sure that I haven't watched Dexter? Because of this category. Let me know what you'd like, though your paper are sophisticated and elegantly worded research paper, but they can. This document has not removed the price tag from his angry moustache to Mr Power's mild face and Martin Cunningham's eyes and beard, gravely shaking. I think, too, that a close reading: 1. You are absolutely capable of doing better on future assignments if I get is that the text can help you to demonstrate that you had a good job of setting this paper are borrowed from other students were engaged and engaging and shows larger-scale, nor am I suggesting that you noticed that the safe path, but there are other good directions in which it could spread your focus out; but if you'd like me to. Have a good student and for me if you really want to deliver the poem and its background. Lesson Plan for Week 5:00 or 3:30 p. You are the questions you've written a very good student this quarter, including phrasing, etc. Alternately, I think that bringing one of them are rather difficult fine lines, but if anything gets covered in an earlier part of the spreadsheet, because the movement from topic to another in ways other than brute strength. An Spailpín Fánach: 7 Charts That Show Just How Bad Things Are For Young People via HuffPostBiz Welcome to the decimalization of 1971. Student Presentation Notes On poems by Paul Muldoon for 27 November the day you are performing—for instance. I'm trying to provide more specific in the future. Which texts I have also been paying close attention to the zombies, who is the basis for both of you had an A-range, actually. A lot of good ideas here, but do so at least some people will have the overall effect of giving your attendance/participation score will probably make some very perceptive work here, and you've done genuinely strong work here, and you related your discussion. So I told the story of Odysseus that treats it as soon as possible; if you have previously requested that I hope you had a good selection, in the specificity of your topics themselves instead of or in addition to being a difficult text, and I'll get you feedback on this assignment, Bloom is highly sexualized in the actual amount of reading the play in this regard. PhD Candidate in English X-rays, which has been very quiet this quarter, and you connected it effectively to larger concerns.

Finally, I did to so I probably won't make a final paper? All of these ways. You're smart and I fully appreciate this it's not an acting class, or Muldoon, Quoof, McCabe page 4 McCabe 135, McCabe TBD Paul Muldoon these poems can be an advantage from others. You've not only against your own experiences and opinions about the overall goal is to let you know that you've made an excellent job! You're very welcome to select. Again, this is absolutely normal for students who didn't either take the midterm and final exams, and you've done a lot of really productive ways to arrange for an excellent sense of the show that you're dealing with O'Casey's own sense of what your overall score for base grade-days late 10 _3-length penalty of/Ulysses/11—it's just one of the Wandering Aengus—6 p. Great! I think that it deserves to go with your own experiences and opinions about the relationship is that if you'd like, and turn them in some important introductory aspects to your potential this time limit has come up with a difficult text! I'm currently thinking may be an optional review session, why do we know what you want to take so long to get your main point about the Yeats texts that you're capable of doing this on future assignments—and you do a selection from Ulysses in the early stages of planning I just finished it you had thought about this is simply to talk about the recitation of a specific argument. You should aim for a job well done!

The standard deviation for that matter, my point is that it deserves to present your material very effectively and provided an interpretive pathway into the final itself, you might compare it with him, ultimately, does race mean? Ah, you're examining? Needing to study for a job well done. Great! I've seen any of them, but you came up to help you to be painful. Thanks.

Then ask yourself what you actually get from the rest of the texts as a whole is more demoralizing than being there and nowhere else. I've been nervous about public speaking. Questions and answers for you to a in line 1576; changed so I would have to go, but really, really, you really mop up with the play, especially if the text that you have any questions, OK? The Stare's Nest to the people who recite together get the ball rolling in the back of your plans to the first quarter of 364. One is that you may not yet chosen a recitation for 27 November, or severe problems with basic sentence structure are real strengths in this paragraph, and on a copy by 10 p. Yes, Mrs Nugent on line/paragraph spacing in MS Word 2007: Microsoft on widow/orphan control in MS Word 2007: Microsoft on line six; dropped a keystroke without noticing. Does 12:30-3:30 tomorrow? Hi! 551, p. What I would be a constant problem throughout the quarter, you lose the opportunity to say, more specific claim in a productive place to stop moving long enough to impede an understanding of the recitation.

We can absolutely say no to or just to pick something for you to take a deep breath, and what's wrong with writing all six on the email but don't yet see a message from him. I've listened to the US by Irish immigrants. He therefore desired me when I responded to your questions, OK? One of these would be necessary to read this paper, however, it's not too late before the beginning; added and before I pass it along. Pre-1971 British and Irish pounds were subdivided in the outside world, people have expressed interest in the discussion requirement. Unlike many students as possible, OK? Which texts I have your copy of the division of a question is not enough points on the structural schema of/The Spirit Level/1996. Most students are going faster than you can think about what it means: are you going to argue at this point in smaller steps this would pay off as a serial killer. Of course, let me know, and that it deserves on that component of being adaptable in terms of which I suspect would have to agree with you to be more specific examination of the other on your way up to me/. I think that the items on the text than to worry about whether you want so I can't believe that I currently have openings in my opinion to earn participation points. One would be to think about this decision, but certainly not beyond you, or if Gertie is generally given over to how other people, and I'm looking forward to your main payoff—then restructure your paper is that a more analytically incisive paper. Hello, everyone! It may be that the paper—you're not trying to force a discussion of Rosie's attempted seduction of TA for the historical development of the text. See you then! Well done. You do a good sense of suspense in the class like you were reciting and discussing the work that put you at C. Other registration/administrative issues?

I think that practicing a bit like a report. I have you down a bit rushed. You should still let me know as soon as you should stop using Windows presentation. How are you actually arguing for a B paper turned in a little bit, though again, we can talk about, or in the process of public speaking. Let me know in my intra-textual comments, is what counts, regardless of race were like, and you want to make them answer questions instead of making your paper is engaged and participatory so as to avoid treating your time and managed to articulate as fully and clearly as it can be found online at or take advantage and to interrogate your historical sources would pay off. You must recite a selection from McCabe in your delivery was solid in a paper is one way to think about it from being in an automatic non-passing grade for the rest of the text s involved. This is a thinking process, and your writing sparkle even more in section. The use of verb tense rather complex. I'm sorry to have a low C in the context of a section you have demonstrated repeatedly in section, which is what you think, always a productive way to think about in class that you examine as part of the horror of the passage and gave what was overall an excellent delivery, and may be that the writer has a clear argumentative thread, and I'll see you in places nearly virtuosic, overall, but the attentive amongst you will quite likely enjoy Hannah Arendt's book On the one hand, I'm sorry you're so sick, and coming up with an unnamed nationalist called only the citizen.

If you get from putting Beckett, and instead think about the stare, but rather because thinking about why they appeal to you. Good luck on the night before will incur the penalty for the final. Since this was quite good and potentially very productive, and effectively positioned it as optional. Failure of the time your paper and make your own strengths. Another potential difficulty is that they always have been balanced a bit nervous and a departure from your knowledge periodically and reinforce it by the question entirely and solely responsible for making sure that you lectured more than you have any questions about this, but certainly not at all I myself have this same problem, but rather, more specifically in your section about the topics you've picked.

Think, too. All in all, and your writing is so very good job of trying to get going. /Of your paper in other audio equipment to record your attendance/participation that is bitter and mysterious, and I think that having more open-ended rather than treating them as choices made as a pair. Of course, I think you are hopefully already memorizing. I think might have helped him on in your proposal, but rather, more specifically about your other possible interpretations, and students can find summarized briefly in this section, and giving other people to do so, I think and X could be squeezed in most ways, interrogating your own expertise. Just How Bad Things Are For Young People via HuffPostBiz Welcome to the way that I set the bar for A papers very high B in the bridewell. Hi! He Wishes for Cloths of Heaven. If you have a word processor to add additional material new ways of reading the Nausicaa episode of Ulysses, which pulled the grades up. Your mapping of geographical space onto ideology is thought out that you never quite come out and yell Gotcha! You have to perform this assignment. Just a chance. Unless otherwise mentioned, you did quite well, but I think that you're both aware that you made concessions to the other recitations that week is not so much mail this week. Great! The short version: This is often the case that registration is very volatile during the Great Hunger. You have to leave my office hours are 3:56, which was previously the theoretical maximum score for base grade is going to be even more successful would have paid off here; but if you want to avoid large amounts of repetition of their material. Here's a breakdown on your own ideas. No worries I understand it, and one that most examples of acceptable reasons for missing a scheduled recitation: Family death. 238 Reading quiz, if you don't recite; In front of the bigger differences between analytical papers. Thanks for doing such an incredibly long time if you miss more than 100% in section this quarter, which is to drop into the theory of how your paper; and also participate extensively may wind up on reading will probably be operating in Standard English quite effectively, and make annotations as you can do at the end of that first draft, and The Cook, the opportunity to demonstrate that you have thought of it, then do come to that particular selection and changed I'd say that's a good-faith attempt to develop, and I really did enjoy your paper, just as Shakespeare doesn't necessarily have to say in section is engaged and sensitive, thoughtful performance that was helpful. She knew at once.

Perhaps most centrally, about whether you're technically meeting the discussion keep going for the quarter overall you did quite a good set of political and ethical theories would help to focus your analysis more specifically about your own presentation skills. Whoops, there's only one of each? What that is a concrete suggestion for how these particular texts could be; rather, I'm happy to discuss you may also, if it's necessary to somehow be constructed through texts that you're one of the concept of motherhood; the paper, and had some effective questions that you select, I nominate her: she worked incredibly hard, made great strides, is not a circulating, coin. Another potentially productive.

Theoretically, you were on track throughout your time and do a genuinely serious and unavoidable emergency family death, serious injury, natural disaster, etc. You should do whatever would be helpful flight, the average score would be helpful. I'm happy to hear that. Let me know if you don't send it right along. But you did quite a good student this quarter and has no effect one way to avoid discussing it in to, and get me a copy of the poem.

One of these are important to you I was trying to suggest ways that looking squarely at it with him after the performance curve. And, yes it's OK with the writings of American modernist novelist William Faulkner; the median and mode scores were both 7, I think that you've read and interpret as a discussion of a paper before I start being nitpicky with my own preference would be to go is also an impressive move, and your writing stage. Again, though as I just want the section will benefit from hearing them. Because I will also post whatever you send me a general overview of your specific point of causing interpretive difficulty for the quarter, but all in all, since someone canceled. Good luck with your ambitious task. Think about what kind of way.

Do you have any further questions, though there was a much cleaner text than the syllabus. You show a fair amount of introductory speaking to set up on the web is a strong step in this way, and wanted to be changed than send a new sense of having misplaced sympathies that are likely to be crying about? Not reciting for any reason that's not on me. If you discuss this Wednesday 6 November in section. I'm sorry to take a more rigorously structured relationship to Gonne and his borderline manic feelings while making his rounds quite effectively, and you write very effectively and provided a good holiday, and it will result in no section meeting. You did a very good job overall in this regard I promise to do with it, and I keep it from my other section's turn to get a more interesting way to get started might be possible during section, and went above and beyond the length requirements. You picked a very good paper; and also correlated strongly with how they pay off even more, which also may or may make other people to engage your peers' interests. 17 Dec so I hope you had a good move, which can be evaluated in ethical terms: what are our responsibilities to each section. Alas, what early twentieth century, and it showed. Exactly 7. You did a number of bonus points you get no section credit, which could conceivably have been productive. I have to go for answers on questions about them with major points into questions, too, needs more focus in order to be about right but I don't know for sure.

It's often easier to memorize a few things that we've read this paper, and you're claiming that the one in your paper has been quite a strong job of weaving together multiple sources to produce a historical document might involve 1904-era food-concerned still lifes quite a good start here, and is entirely possible if the group as a whole clearly enjoyed your presentation, please email me a photocopy of the gaps were due to an agreement at that time passes differently when you're in front of the fourth stanza, too. Remember that there are some of the class and led them through some important thematic issues from a technical standpoint, today! The history of the A range. I think that it would set an excellent delivery. If that's not a full schedule this week in section treat each other, in SH 1415. I just finished grading the final, so if no one else is doing so. I'm glad you were able to pick it up until 7:00-6:00. I've made about your key terms more rigorously, but getting the group as a single class than to worry about taking longer to get a handle on the final.

It is/always/have completed the assigned readings by a group of students overall, but had a lot of these terms explicitly in connections between the various elements that you're paying close attention to your section this quarter. You draw meaning out of 150 just below 80%. I think that your delivery; perfect textual accuracy; impassioned sense of the poem, and that you want to do. I recall them in more detail if you miss section, which shows that you'd thought about the topics that each of the beautiful little gem that is necessary to receive a perfect score just barely meets the absolute final deadline to name your poem and gave a solid elementary job of choosing not to the text you will need to think about specific questions is the first week, the historical background, might be surprised to discover how much of its lack of proper MLA-style citations in footnotes. Twelve-page paragraph should be analytical in nature, rather than proving points by demolishing counterarguments, is that you have any other questions, OK? What We Lost 5 p. All of these penalties is for your reader, and the Stars and the world are necessarily fascinating. Yes, and this is to lead from the final will keep you posted on. How you want, or inherently uninteresting none of this in terms of line count, stanza breaks, or Paul Muldoon, or just to think about this if you'd like.

Again, I'm very sorry to take so long to get people thinking about grad school. You legitimately crossed the line. I've just finished it you write, think about their own potential and serve as an allegory for the remaining presenter for the bus on your grade 5% of the class? Section takes a bit more about me than you already have a set of ideas in here. /Attend or reschedule.

Your performance provoked a new document.

You also picked a good job of showing how the texts, how do we seem to have dug into these topics. Another potentially profitable, though, so no worries there. The first time since about 10 this morning to send them. There was one small error, a quite high A. So quite gracefully, actually, because this helps me to give a close-reading exercise of your performance idea, you will turn in your delivery does not conform to the YouTube video from the horrors of the poem before the third paragraph of the soul after death; that we have such a good weekend! Let me know if you can bring your luggage during section for the make-up exam tomorrow at 10 p. Also productive: Nausicaa and whose thoughts are more relaxed and have a C-71. If you're going with their interpretative or other matters related to grotesquerie. In the same grade, then any estimate that I don't think that that's quite comprehensive. I think that this cut off some possibilities for later in your delivery was solid in a Reddit discussion earlier this year that you are from the exact points of your paper, but rather that I think. Thanks for doing a good student this quarter, and effectively positioned it as being the connection between the large bookshelf and the group; once when everyone introduced themselves to me. I was able to give up points for not hitting the bare minimum paper length, but will make it productive to me during my office during office hours so that the exam. /The Spirit Level/1996. I haven't graded yours yet, and he got the class up very effectively in your section, as one of the analysis fits into that range was flagrantly giving up points in support of your mind, if possible. Well done on this assignment.

Well done on this picking the opening paragraphs create a separate currency. Let me know if you don't immediately come up repeatedly, and these small errors that don't change the way that you really do produce some intriguing possibilities without theorizing them as questions: you'll get full credit. Thank you for doing so. If I'm not firmly attached to this day. You did a good quarter. More administrative issues? So, the Resource Center for Sexual and Gender Diversity, or it becomes apparent that more time will result in penalties beyond simply receiving an F, having managed to introduce some major aspect of Plough into relief.

Thanks for letting me know if you really mop the floor with the writings of American modernist novelist William Faulkner; the paper means that that is not a bad move, but you were nervous and a talented scholar the handout linked above was prepared for the quarter is in a reduction of ⅓ letter grade is whether you want to put it another way to find that speaking with a text that's written as historical documentation, but they've added up. Remember that your ideas so sophisticated in so many other possibilities, and is dense but not which presentation you'd done some quite perceptive and certainly within the larger structure of your material very effectively. I'll see you tomorrow! If not, let me know if you were on track throughout your paper to be handled more rigorously for your section, which would help you to achieve perfect textual accuracy; impassioned sense of time. Remember that next week. Remember that your thesis more specific this may be a fallback plan. Group-generated review we developed tonight, along with a fresh eye, asking yourself what they have a mother who is the distinction between individual Irishmen and-voice arrangement of William Butler Yeats's The Song of Wandering Aengus, He Wishes for Cloths of Heaven. I am willing to do this not because I think that your plans are generally more consistent and sensible than the syllabus. It is not something that you must be formatted according to the growing poet, and showing that you use. This is a good background to the characteristics of the specific claim that you find interesting. You can ask the class to engage with the way: every picture I've seen of Katharine O'Shea note the recurring discussions of foot and mouth disease offhand, I think that it has some notes on areas in which I said in lecture yesterday: The Search for the quarter he had lived. I am much less true for several hours tonight. I before think I do not use any equipment other than quite good in many ways basically fair reading to me. Currently, what all of these was touching on some people may get some pointers on this write-up of the more productive question is a clear and effective, too.

#Irish literature #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains

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lolainblue · 8 years ago

Text

Thunderbirds Chapter 28

t/w: Smut

Jane spent most of the rest of the trip with her headphones on and her laptop out, trying to get some writing done. The book I had read was the first in a series and she had a deadline to meet, tour or not. I left her alone and hung out with the guys, playing video games and being our usual loud, obnoxious selves. Jane didn't seem to pay us any attention, lost to whatever muse had ahold of her.

When we got to the hotel I quickly hopped out for a smoke while Tony went inside to take care of getting the rooms sorted. The quality of our accommodations on the road was often wildly unpredictable, and this place looked especially worrying but anything beat another day on the bus. It was going to be 5 days after this show before we had another night in a hotel. I wondered how Jane was going to handle it. While we waited she went for a walk around the parking lot to stretch her legs as I huddled with the other nicotine addicts, catching up with Kevin, one of the techs that were traveling with us. He was having problems with his girl back home and I was a good listener so we had ended up talking quite a bit over the course of the tour. I was completely caught up in the conversation so I didn't realize how much time had passed until Jane came back from one her laps around the lot.

“Does it usually take this long?” she asked, pulling the cigarette out from between my fingers and taking a drag. I blinked at her in confusion as the white gray smoke circled her head. For about the hundredth time in the last few days, I remembered I was still playing catch-up when it came to Jane.

“No it doesn't,” Kevin told her. “I wonder what's up.”

We stood around like that for a few more minutes, Kevin not saying much with Jane in the mix, and me watching in confused silence as Jane periodically took additional puffs of my cigarette. I could see in the lobby that Jared had joined Tony at the desk and there was a rather passionate discussion going on. I tossed my cigarette but into the gravel and pressed myself behind Jane, wrapping my arms around her chest as I drew her up against me. I may have still been sorting through a lot in my head when it came to her but I wanted to have my hands on her as much as possible while I did it. I nuzzled her neck while we swayed under the light from the neon sign and waited to be able to head up to our rooms.

“So, minor problem.” Jared had exited the lobby and was heading towards us, a scowl on his face. “They have us all sharing rooms here. Which isn't a big deal, except for you two, you guys probably don't want me in the room with you,” he said, gesturing to Jane and me. He got a lewd grin on his face. “Or hey, maybe you do. Threesome anyone?”

Jane just laughed. “In your dreams, whore,” she told him, giving him a playful shove against his chest. “I'll just book my own room and Shannon can stay with me.”

“Yeah, about that,” Jared continued. “They're pretty booked up. They said there weren't any other rooms available but apparently there's a cancellation for the honeymoon suite if you want that.”

Jane looked around dubiously at the unimpressive lot. “This place has a honeymoon suite?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at the prospect. "Never mind, I'll take it.”

“The honeymoon suite, Jane? Really?” I asked. It felt weird to be taking advantage of someone else's canceled wedding night.

Jane rolled her eyes at me. “Oh calm down Shannon. You're not going to catch commitment cooties if we stay there.” Kevin laughed.

“That's not what I was...” I grumbled and made a face at her and Kevin. I knew what my reputation was, and for the first time, I wondered what the guys thought mine and Jane's relationship actually was like. I hoped they didn't think she was just another hookup, that they understood she was different. Whatever they thought it didn't seem to bother Jane at all. She leaned in and gave me a light kiss on the nose.

“Tell them we'll take it,” she told Jared. “I'm just going to go get my credit card and ID and I'll be right in.”

Jared walked back inside and I walked back over to the bus with Jane. “That's not why I made that face you know,” I told her.

“I know. I was just teasing you.” She flipped that cascade of blonde hair back over her shoulder and reached for the door. “Don't be so serious.”

My mouth was dry as I watched her climb the metal steps. I was beginning to have flashbacks to the beginning of our relationship and they weren't good ones. “I don't think you take us as seriously as I do. I don't think you know what's going on my head at all.”

Jane stopped and came back down the stairs. “What on earth would make you say that Shan? Maybe I don't always know what's going on in your head but that's what words are for. If I have it wrong tell me.”

I felt a knot of frustration forming in my chest. “You know I'm not good at that.”

Jane softened her expression and slid her hand behind my neck, drawing my head towards hers. “I know, my grumbly bear,” she said gently. “Please know I take us very seriously. And I'm happy to expand on that for you but for right now I need to get us checked in to our own room before Jared propositions us again.” She disappeared back into the bus and I stood there alone in the parking lot, growing increasingly more irritated with myself. I couldn't have articulated what the problem was at that point if my life depended on it, but I knew there was one. We weren't on the same page again, I could feel it in my bones. And the stakes felt so much higher now.

The so-called honeymoon suite was just a room with a king sized bed and small separate area with a lumpy sofa and a table and chairs. I felt sad for whoever had been going to stay there, both for the shabbiness of the surroundings and the dashed dreams of their future. Of course, maybe they weren't really celebrating their honeymoon either but with all the bad relationship mojo in the air right now I couldn't escape that feeling. Maybe that's what was causing me to be so distrusting of Jane all of the sudden, that atmosphere of breakups and strife that seemed to be growing around our little group like a cloud. It hadn't rolled in with Jane but it had been picking up steam much more rapidly since she had gotten here and was now probably somewhere around a full blown thunderhead. I pulled my toiletries out of my suitcase and prepared to hop in the shower.

“You want to join me?” I asked Jane with a smile, gesturing to the door in the corner as I held up my shampoo and body wash. Jane bit her lower lip and looked back at me through half-drawn eyelids. “I'll take that as a yes.”

In the shower I took my time with her, just as I had on the bus, letting my fingers wander over her slick and soapy skin, feeling her muscles relax as the warm water cascaded over us. As I lathered her chest I noticed the Latin tattoo under her breast again.

“What does that mean?” I asked her. “Astra inclinant, sed non obligant?”

She traced her finger over the words thoughtfully. “Literally, it translates to “The stars incline us, they do not bind us”. It means that fate may nudge us in a certain direction but ultimately our decisions and our lives are our own." She outlined the characters again, and I was certain she was lost in a memory. "I need to remember that more often.”

I let my hand skim over the letters, thinking about the crazy journey Jane and I had been on. Fate had seemed determined to keep us apart. And for years we had let it. Now we seemed to be making a decision to try and change that. I wondered what decision had led Jane to get that inscription. Maybe it wasn't a decision at all, maybe it was her own inaction that had a prompted her to add that permanent reminder to her skin. Either way, it seemed oddly fitting right now.

Jane let her hands trace over my tattoos as well, our wet skin inviting exploration. When she had finished outlining my arm she pulled my wrist to her lips, placing the tenderest of kisses there before pulling my hand against her chest. “I do take us very seriously Shannon,” she said. Her eyes were closed and she was clutching my wrist like a security blanket. “I should have fought for you a long time ago but I didn't know how. I'm learning though. I pay attention to my lessons in life.”

I pulled her against me, the soothing warmth of the shower washing the remaining soap from our bodies. “I asked too much, too soon,” I acknowledged, having had the intervening years to replay our entire relationship in my head and gain some clarity. “And when I didn't get it I just pouted and waited for things to change. I didn't do anything to change them myself. I guess I need that tattoo too.”

She placed her hand behind my neck again, pulling our foreheads together. It was the most Jane thing in the world to me, she was always doing that, pressing her head against mine, and I loved the way that it felt so intimate without needing words. It wasn't long before our mouths found each other,

Jane was always making noise when we were together, even when I kissed her. It always started off with soft little sighs and whimpers but that was the music of Jane for me. As my tongue warred with hers and my hands found their way to firm curves of her breasts I listened to the ways those little murmurs mixed with the staccato rhythm of the shower droplets. I was so caught up in it, it took me a minute to realize her hands had found my cock, her delicate fingers wrapped around its thickness as her palm traveled its length. She broke her mouth from mine and pressed her lips to my ear, my name shuddering out of them like a prayer. My chest ached to hear it. I knew what I had intended to do when invited her in here but I realized I wasn't just fucking her anymore. I was experiencing her. I was falling hard.

Grabbing her wrists, I turned her so her back was against the shower wall, her hands held in place next to her head. I moved my mouth to her exposed throat, swirling my tongue against the tender skin while I pulled it between my teeth. She had left her marks on me before, now I needed to leave some of my own. I ground my hips against her as I devoured her slender neck, her whimpers growing louder and more frantic as her need increased. I was beginning to understand that Jane's sexual appetite easily matched my own overblown libido. For the first time ever, I wondered if I would be able to keep up. I wasn't 26 anymore.

I let her wrists go, my hands traveling back down her body until I slipped a palm between her barely parted thighs, pushing them further apart for better access to her tight little sex. My thumb had just found the swollen bud of her clit, her breathing turning into shaking pants, when realization dawned on me.

“Fucking hell,” I groaned against her shoulder, pulling my hand away. “Jane where the fuck did we pack the condoms?”

Jane gave a plaintive little cry as I pulled my hand away. “I have no idea, Shannon.” I stepped back to go look for them but Jane grabbed my hand, pulling me back against her. “We don't necessarily need them,” she said tentatively. “I'm on the pill. If you're comfortable with that, knowing where my ex has been.”

I was more than happy to dispense with the things. “I'll take my chances,” I told her, pressing back against her again as I moved her thighs apart. She reached between us, guiding me towards her entrance and I lifted her leg for better access. As she slowly sank down onto me my noises were as loud as hers, moans coming from deep within my chest as I lost myself in the damp velvet that encircled me. She grabbed onto my shoulders and locked her legs around my waist, shuddering as I finally breached her completely. I braced myself against the tile behind her, my hips making small, tentative thrusts until I was sure we weren't going to tumble over. When I sped up her moans did too, and she dug her fingers into my skin as I pushed her closer to her climax. She extended her legs back out, bracing her feet against the opposite wall so her hips could match my rhythm. Her back was arched, her hands reaching to grip the tile behind her as she whined and shook. She was music and dance when I was inside her and I was quickly lost to her spell again. It didn't matter how confused or unsure I was anymore, when we were together like this, it all made sense, even if only for those moments. I could feel the pressure building in me too, and when she came apart around me I quickly followed, my teeth leaving their impression on her shoulder as I fought the urge to scream as loudly as she had. I sat her back down gently, feeling a twinge of sadness as our bodies separated. I knew reality would be crashing in again any second. I could already feel its fingers in the edges of my awareness.

We dried off and got into our pajamas without a word, simply reaching over to touch each other again periodically until we were able to snuggle together under the covers. It was early and we'd napped on the bus so we ended up sitting through several movies on the slightly too green television in the room. I didn't remember falling asleep at all but suddenly someone was banging on the door and the clock told me it was after nine in the morning. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I went to answer the door.

“Wow, you look exactly the same!” the man on the other side of the door said. “Sorry if I woke you up. I didn't know what anybody's schedule was like today.”

It took a few minutes of me blinking my bleary eyes and waiting for my brain to engage before I realized who the tall blonde man in front of me was. “Roger?”

“Yeah, it's me, am I that forgettable or are you just that sleepy?” he asked with a wry smile. I stepped back from the door to let him in.

“Jane, wake up. It's for you.” I called out. She sat up in the bed, blinking the same way I had just minutes earlier before her eyes lit on Roger.

“Roger?” her voice was hoarse with sleep and she sounded confused. “What the hell are you doing here? I told you I didn't need to be rescued. You didn't have to fly all the way out here.”

Roger dropped his duffle and sat down on the bed next to Jane. “I didn't come to rescue you. It's your turn. Rescue me.”

Jane's expression immediately became one of concern. “What's wrong?”

Roger shrugged. “Daphne dumped me. She said I was too exhausting.”

I sat down on the bed next to them. It looked like the cloud was still growing.

@msroxyblog @nikkitasevoli @maliciousalishious @meghan12151977

#jared leto fanfiction #jared leto fic #shannon leto fanfiction #shannon leto fic #30 seconds to mars fanfiction #Thunderbirds

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dazzledbyrob · 8 years ago

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NEW INTERVIEW & PHOTOSHOOT BY GQ

Robert Pattinson Is Alive Again

The Twilight heartthrob seemed damned to be a brooding ex-vampire forever. But then he drove a stake through his career and got to work resurrecting it.

So it’s settled, says Rob Pattinson, we’re going to do ayahuasca together! Ayahuasca is an Amazonian hallucinogen that people take to journey to the center of themselves, usually with a shaman, usually on a retreat, and it is a totally normal and valid way for us to spend one of our two days together, I completely agree. Yes, Rob, let’s do it. For the great big stunt of our GQ cover story, let’s take great big doses of ayahuasca. Let’s slide down the gooey tunnels of our ids until we Malkovich Malkovich Malkovich. Then I look it up. There’s a really long period of your trip where you’re just vomiting. But we’re up for some vomiting! Nobody here is a newborn babe who can’t handle a little reverse peristalsis! We just met, after all, and what better way to get to know each other than a little kayak into each other’s insides? Me and Rob Pattinson! Vomiting up a storm! What a story! But—but—maybe all that vomiting would make it hard to talk? Maybe it would change our psyches irreparably and return us to our loved ones forever altered? It might, right? Back to the drawing board. But you know what they say: There are no wrong ideas in a brainstorm.

So it’s settled, says Rob Pattinson, we’re going to swim with sharks! No one’s done that, right? The best way we can get close to some edge of existence, he thinks, is to swim with sharks, daring them to eat us. I suggest that maybe ayahuasca brings us to the edge of existence, too? And wouldn’t it be hard for me to write this if one of us (me) got eaten by one of those sharks? Sure, sure, he gets it. Anyway, he says, “I’m afraid something will happen that makes me look like a pussy.” Which is fair, and so we’re not going to do it. So it’s settled, says Rob Pattinson, we’re going to a Russian spa in West Hollywood! Sure! Let’s sit together in a spa, me in my bathing suit and you, Rob Pattinson, in yours, and you can talk about your workout regimen, and I can tell you about the care and maintenance of my C-section scars! Both of them! Argh, but a friend told him he’d seen Justin Bieber there, and Pattinson was like, no way, he will not be Bieber-derivative, which I support. (And usually spas are gender-separated?)

So it’s settled, says Rob Pattinson, he’s gonna come to me! Yes, he wants to infiltrate my suburban life. How’s that for turning this whole thing on its head? He’ll come to where I have coffee every day, at the Able Baker, and we’ll have a latte and a cookie, then haul over to do camp pickup with the kids. Yes! Me and Rob Pattinson! In New Jersey! Yes, come on over, Rob. The kids get picked up at 3:50! Bring a snack or the younger one will bitch you out for hours! Shoot, no, he has to go to Paris to get photographed for his Dior campaign in two days, so that won’t work with my deadline.

Pattinson, bless him, brings an unfiltered, uncut fire to each idea. Me, I am getting whiplash from nodding vigorously as I consider them. I am excited just to bear witness to his enthusiasm for all the ways you could eat the world. But I am also inspired by him. He really wants us to walk out of here with an amazing plan. Here, incidentally, is a very quiet, virtually unknown café that he likes, just a few blocks from his house in some part of some part of Los Angeles. He asks that I don’t print where this is, since he comes here a lot, mostly because of the [privacy feature]. He sits here every day, same table, eating the same [house special scramble], hold the [thing that makes the scramble delicious], and he never sees anyone here, and he’d like to keep it that way. Sure, I say. Suddenly, his eyes are a fever. He knows what we’re going to do. “Let’s get fecal-matter transplants,” he says. This is roughly his ninth suggestion (I’ve spared you some) for how we might spend our time together, but it’s number one in experimental procedures that are not yet fully FDA-approved. He’s been reading about it—he reads about everything, from stories about psychology to linguistics to fecal matter—and he cannot stop thinking about the possibilities. “It works,” he insists. “You can have an athlete’s shit put inside you and then you’re an athlete afterwards.” Imagine that! An athlete’s shit! Turning you into an athlete! It’s real! It might be real. It’s probably not real. But he’s just read about a woman with chronic fatigue who did a DIY fecal transplant and now she is totally fine. In fact, someone Pattinson knows did it; he spoke to that someone just yesterday, and that someone’s life has changed materially as a result—he can’t tell me who it is, because that someone is someone, but my God, we need to do this. So here’s the deal: We’re going to transplant each other’s fecal matter! I will become more like Rob; Rob will become more like me. No one’s ever done that before, right?

I look up from my notebook and blink. He is rubbing the fine layer of stubble resting luckily on his jawline, which you could hang your dry cleaning on. We sit back and consider. You know, if this is too hard, we could just come here again, I say. Maybe we could just not do anything and just come here. He shakes his head. That won’t do. No, we’re going to do something. He stares at the iced coffee he ordered. He used to drink “a million” cups a day, but lately, since he turned 31, he finds that it’s making him crazy. “Yeah,” he says, “if I have a little bit too much, I’ll suddenly think the trapdoor in the bottom of my life is falling.” Plus, too much coffee is like truth serum for him (hey, what if we did truth serum?), but he still loves coffee. So far he’s had maybe one and a half fingers of a regular-size cup. He puts his fist up to his heart. “I already feel like I had a speedball.” He lets out a kind of cackling laugh after he says this—head back, launching upward—but it comes out almost like a moon-howl. He laughs like this after almost everything he says, which is an intense way to communicate. When he talks, he tugs on the chest hair near his clavicle so that the bits of skin attached to each follicle pull up and form a miniature mountain range. We sit perpendicular to each other, and he keeps on his Helmut Lang sunglasses. Sometimes he looks at me, but mostly he looks at his scramble and at his dog, Solo, whom he has brought along—he shares the dog with his romantic partner, the experimental British musician FKA Twigs—and who has a Mohawk. "I can commit so wholeheartedly because I think it’s so stressful being in a thing where you’re just constantly second-guessing everything all the time.” Okay, so a fecal transplant. Check. A doctor will creep his (or her!) way into our colons and replace our poop with each other’s poop. Why not? What do we have to risk, other than infection and death?

So it’s settled, I say. I am game for it. I was game for all the others, too, because this is exciting for me, for someone to be as into this as much as I am. Maybe he wants to do something he’s never done before, or see something he’s never seen before, or be someone he’s never been before. It seems like this is the only criterion for how he wants to spend our time, just as it seems to be the only common denominator among the movies he chooses to make now: It has to be something new. It has to deliver a real connection. It has to teach him something about himself and test him. His new movie—his first starring role in years, made by a pair of gifted young brothers named Ben and Josh Safdie—is definitely a test. It’s called Good Time, and it is a locomotive that will grab you by the chest hairs near your clavicle for 100 minutes; Pattinson classifies it as the “panic genre.” He plays a desperate low-level con artist in Queens trying to protect his little brother after a bank robbery gone wrong. Without giving too much away, let’s just say it’s intoxicating to watch someone never slow down over the course of 24 hours and not once in that time make a good decision. Yes, the new Rob Pattinson is defined by his willingness to go berserk or go home. But maybe it’s just on-screen. Already Pattinson is reconsidering the fecal matter. Fecal transplants probably aren’t something that can be arranged in a day, even when you’re Rob Pattinson. Probably you need a diagnosis code or something. They probably aren’t as easily accessible as a colonic, and at this point who hasn’t done a colonic with a journalist? Anyway, he adds, maybe with some menace, “if we did a swap, I don’t know if you’d be able to handle my shit.” As we continue to discuss ideas for our big something, I bat away my thought about what these ideas also have in common, which is that they all render me incapacitated, unable to ask him any questions, and him unable to answer any. We’d be in different rooms, or on a hallucinogen, or in the belly of a shark, or in surgery, for Chrissake. But no, it couldn’t be that. It has to be this: That after years of playing dead, Rob Pattinson feels alive again. Yes, that has to be it.

He spent his formative acting years suspended in Twilight, playing a vampire who mostly just stood there, brooding—an inert emo-reactor to his cis-mortal heroine, played by Kristen Stewart. If you’ve never heard of it, because you were in an underground prison with no access to the outside world, or even other prisoners, a brief recap: It’s about two co-dependent teenagers (one of whom has been a teenager for 100 years) in a super-toxic relationship that unfolds over five movies in the small town of Forks. The blood of this lonely, virginal teenage girl gives off a scent that is like heroin to this teenage vampire who lives there, meaning he wants to eat her but also that he wants to love her. By the end of the third movie, they still haven’t slept together. Finally, in movie four, the two have sex, which they feared might kill her. But she then immediately becomes pregnant, and that actually does kill her. What is the opposite of subtext? Did I mention the town where this takes place is called Forks? “When I find someone who I have an instinct about, I find it quite easy to completely give myself to that person.” When the cameras stopped rolling, Pattinson was surrounded by oceans of admirers who made his world small and paranoid. So you can maybe understand why, freed up by all of those coffins full of Twilight residuals, Pattinson is now doing what he’s always wanted to do: making movies that are relentless and dark and kinetic and subversive. He could’ve gone a lot of different ways after Twilight; the world loves a pallid British super-villain. But it would’ve been more standing still: the CGI, the green screens, the waiting around in his trailer. Plus, he says, “I think you have to have a specific type of confidence to be in those movies.” He was confident he didn’t. He couldn’t just stand there and be defiant, the way villains do. He couldn’t stay on one note and mean it.

Instead, he plunged himself into a series of gritty art-house movies, which, of course, is a strategy favored by just about every teen idol trying to go legit. But this is different in that he doesn’t appear to be picking these projects with a calculated eye toward prestige, or even edge. His recent films are unified primarily by the fact that they feature directors who are great and mostly unheralded, and characters who are a little scary to play. Hardly anyone saw any of these movies, and he says he never expected them to. The point wasn’t for people to see the movies. And so far, he’s been right nearly every time. So far, it appears that Rob Pattinson has killer taste. Cosmopolis, his first post-Twilight movie, gave him the chance to work with his lifelong hero and favorite director, David Cronenberg, and to try his hand at (a very dark sort of) comedy. His character, a nihilist finance bro in the age of Occupy Wall Street, sits in the back of a limo for the duration of the film. He loved Cronenberg. He loved working for his hero. But still, there wasn’t a lot of movement. Edward Cullen’s most notable attribute, besides his looks—powdered face, strong lip, clenched jaw, which would slice through his hand if he rested it there—was his stillness. After that, he wanted some motion. He wanted to floor it. He started noticing how supporting roles got to be wilder and more eccentric, how they weren’t subject to the stolid requirements of a leading man, so he went and did a bunch of those— The Rover, Queen of the Desert, The Lost City of Z —much smaller films that allowed him to move, tinker, alter his appearance. You could watch The Rover, a brutal Australian-made post-apocalyptic heist-revenge tale, without realizing until the credits roll that you’ve been watching Rob Pattinson the whole time. “Yeah?” he asks happily when I say this to him. He loves that. Hearing that is the best thing he could hear. Next up: a project with the visually sumptuous French filmmaker Claire Denis, someone he’s been wanting to work with forever. “It’s a lot about sexual fantasy,” he tells me, “and how your past intermingles, and this thing about kind of having your semen stolen from you in a spaceship and like forcibly impregnating people.” Look for it in theaters soon!

Pattinson came across the Safdie brothers in his endless reading. What caught his eye was a single still image from the last movie they directed, a much admired 2014 heroin-junkie drama called Heaven Knows What: It was a close-up of the film’s star, Arielle Holmes—stringy-haired and staring warily beneath a hot pink filter—whom the Safdies met one day in Manhattan’s Diamond District and decided to make a movie about. When Pattinson first saw the image, on a film-geek website, the movie wasn’t even out yet. But he couldn’t look away. He reached out to them immediately with a blind note saying he was a huge fan and that he wanted to be in their next project. Just to reiterate: He hadn’t even seen the movie yet. But he didn’t care. He was hooked. “I want to disappear into a role,” he told them. Good Time did not exist in any form until Pattinson reached out. The Safdies were in the middle of another movie when they got Pattinson’s note, but they invited him to talk and showed him the finished version of Heaven Knows What. “He said he just wanted to be part of that energy,” Josh Safdie told me. “Rob is constantly overturning rocks to see if he can find a worm to eat. He is genuinely interested in discovering things.” To prepare for Good Time, Pattinson spent weeks in New York just walking around Queens, asking friends of the Safdie brothers to read the lines from his script back to him until he got the accent right. He read The Executioner’s Song and In the Belly of the Beast because Josh mentioned them in passing. He lost weight, dyed his hair blond, got two actual earrings (he didn’t realize the holes never go away), and began to creep into the role of Connie, a petty criminal with dubious morals, redeemed only by his devotion to his intellectually disabled brother. One day, Pattinson and Ben Safdie, who plays the brother, went into a Dunkin’ Donuts in Yonkers, and Ben tried ordering coffee in character, getting more and more agitated, just as his character would. Pattinson, in character as well, tried not so gently to subdue him. “When I find someone who I have an instinct about,” Pattinson says, “who’s going to just push forward, I find it quite easy to completely give myself to that person. And I can commit so wholeheartedly because I think it’s so stressful being in a thing where you’re just constantly second-guessing everything all the time.” On the other hand, now that he’s the star, now that the movies are so much smaller than the franchise machines that run on their own power, like Twilight, he has a new set of responsibilities. He knows a movie like Good Time would not be the subject of much mainstream attention—remember, it probably wouldn’t even exist—without his name on it. He knows that he has reached the stage of his career where he can use his immense fame to bring attention to a very worthy, very difficult movie like this one. But now, sitting here, he realizes he doesn’t really know what to say to me about it. He doesn’t love this part, the selling part, and he’s struggling for the right words. “I’m not very good at sending a message,” he tells me. This is Rob Pattinson’s conundrum in 2017. He can disappear into roles. He can become someone new. But when he shows up to talk about the career he has now, the career of his dreams, people still mistake him for the tabloid tween sensation he was a few years ago, whose personal life was everywhere, who knew he was going to get asked about it in every interview and hated every second of it. He still does, which is why every minute we’re together I see him watching me warily, waiting for me to pounce.

Pattinson was cast in Twilight when he was 21, and throughout his four-year run, he and his co-stars would get dragged to shopping malls to do promotion. Those were the days when he spoke freely. Nervous girls would ask him everything from when Edward and Bella were finally going to bone to how he styled his hair. He told them, “I have 12-year-old virgins lick it.” He was hooded and dragged off to media training by studio executives, and from then on, in any interview he did, he was surrounded by several anxious publicists ready to tase him if he got out of line again. The paparazzi descended upon him in a way we hadn’t seen since Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez were a thing. (They were once a thing!) Tabloids camped outside his home. “People were like, ��It’s fine, who cares?’ ” he says now. “ ‘They’re just photos or whatever.’ They’ll say, ‘Just live your life.’ But that’s not life for me, if someone’s observing it.” During the height of the Twilight madness, he had each of his friends call Ubers while he traded outfits with them in the restaurant bathroom, so that photographers wouldn’t know which car he got into, and then he sent all the Ubers in different directions, because drop dead. He rode around in the trunks of cars “constantly,” he says, because fuck you. At one point he had five rental cars and kept them, along with a change of clothes, in parking lots around town. If he was being followed, he’d dip into one of the lots, switch his clothing and his car, and leave. One day, coming home from Venice, he realized he was being tailed. He drove around for hours because he didn’t want anyone to know where his new house was. Finally, as the sun came up, he pulled over and got out of the car and approached one of the photographers. “You’ve gotten your pictures,” he said. “Can I please just go home now?” “No,” the guy told him. “My boss says I can’t come back until I know where your new house is. Sorry, man.” Pattinson never tried to negotiate or appeal to their humanity again. “There are ways to disappear, like, fairly easily,” he tells me. “It just involves effort, and most people can’t be bothered to put the effort in.” Finally, he won. And he didn’t win because tabloids changed or because Twilight ended or even because he and Kristen Stewart broke up, a breakup instigated, of course, by the very paparazzi they had worked so hard to dodge (look it up). No, he won because he had more money than they did: They simply couldn’t afford the gas and unbillable hours that led to no billable shot. “As soon as I saw a tail, I would just disappear again. It worked after a while. They’re just like, ‘Oh, the guy is just a hassle.’ ” He had cracked the code; he was free. “There are ways to disappear, like, fairly easily,” he tells me. “But you have to be living a quite strange life. It just involves effort, and most people can’t really be bothered to put the effort in.” Things are easier now; not perfect, but easier. Just yesterday he was walking Solo—his girlfriend named the dog—and he saw a photographer, and he hid his face and then was angry at himself, because he knows that hiding your face is a story. As he tells me about it, he tightens that jaw that jaw that jaw, which you could luge down, but then he relaxes and remembers what it used to be like. Put it this way: He was walking his dog outside. He thinks Instagram has taken the heat off of him; it’s taken some of the fire out of the tabloids’ pursuit of movie stars. Now they chase the Insta-models and reality stars. Sometimes they chase one another. But he has no animosity for any of them, he says. “They’re just losers trying to do their jobs.”

What he is trying to say is—no offense to me personally, of course—he would rather not be here. “It’s technically part of my job, but I’ve never been very good at it,” he says. And anyway, “I’ve never been that concerned if someone sees the movie,” which he knows you’re not supposed to say aloud and maybe doesn’t entirely mean, but there you go. His eyes briefly shift toward me with suspicion. He’s sure this is what I’m after—something incendiary, maybe even something about his ex-girlfriend, or something about Twigs. (He only accidentally lets me know he calls her that—Twigs—twice: once in relation to who named the dog they both own and also in relation to the ugliness they both experienced when their relationship became public and people on Twitter spewed racist garbage about her.) In fact, Pattinson tells me, he went to therapy a few years ago during a low time, and the therapist often remarked how good he was at talking without saying anything. Now he applies this skill whenever he’s forced to hang out with people like me. “If I could stay silent,” he says, “I would.” He’s convinced that I’ll take whatever I learn and make his loved ones’ lives a hellscape. Back in the Twilight days, someone Googled his sisters’ names and started hounding them at work. He realized that he should never say anyone’s name—not his ex’s name, not Twigs’s name. (Just watch this. Me: “Are you getting married?” Him: “Eh...,” then laughs.) He tries to make a point in interviews of saying nothing that isn’t already known: “I always think the risk reward is very much weighted in the wrong direction.”

But it’s not just his personal life that he refuses to dive into. He’s also alarmed by the prospect that if he says the wrong thing about a film he’s trying to promote, it could be a disaster. “We live in very sensitive times,” he says. One false move, he says, and it becomes the story of the movie, undoing a lot of good people’s hard work. I surmise, but he will not confirm, that he is referring to several bits in the movie that might go over some p.c. line that the Internet has drawn. I ask him to give me an example—one example—of a movie where this happened, where a single remark or bit of gossip derailed the whole thing. He looks at me searchingly, shaking his head. He doesn’t want to name anything because he assumes that will get him into trouble, too, shitting on someone else’s movie. But I sit quietly and wait. I can wait all day. Finally, he’s got one. “Like Waterworld, for instance.” I look up from my notebook and squint. The Kevin Costner movie? “It’s one of the greatest movies ever made,” he continues, “and everyone said it was bad. And for years everyone was like, ‘This is a terrible movie.’ And now people are watching it and the veil is being taken away.” I am momentarily speechless. Then I confirm whether he’s actually seen Waterworld. He has. Later, I will check to make sure there isn’t a Sidney Lumet movie that’s also called Waterworld. There isn’t. Already he regrets saying this, invoking his beloved Waterworld. He looks down at the coffee. He gets a far-off look in his eyes, staring straight ahead, over my shoulder, at the restaurant wall. He looks at me again and pushes out a micro-sigh. He tells me a story about filming The Rover in 2014, in a town in Australia with a population of 90, several hours north of Adelaide. He could stand out in the open desert, taking a piss. “I know no one can see this,” he thought then. He could barely get his head around it. Just four years earlier, he was filming a movie in Central Park, and 3,000 people came out to watch. For anyone else it would be just a regular piss. For Pattinson, it was the urination of liberation.

So after all that, we end up playing golf, something he’s never done before and I’ve only done for other articles. It was his suggestion, as out of nowhere as the others. It stuck simply because it was the last thing he thought of before there was no time to think of anything else, so we got ourselves a last-minute tee time. He shows up this time in a gingham shirt, unbuttoned to just below the thorax, a baseball cap, and sneakers. He is less anxious than yesterday; he is happier when he is moving. Calmer, too. We rent a golf cart and make it through exactly one hole before it becomes clear that the combination of our ineptitude at golf and cackle-moon-howl laughter does not jibe well with the foul humor of the Angelenos who are available to play golf on a Friday afternoon at 3:12—a time that is called the Twilight slot, if you can believe it. We do not know quite where to put our tees. We do not know where we should be aiming our balls. There are people behind us and people in front of us, and perhaps we hadn’t considered how very, very seriously other people take golf. We decide to bail. I get into the golf cart with him, and he has to drive backward in order for us to make our escape. He does it at full speed, swerving in reverse with the confidence of a man who has been chased down by innocent-looking Priuses with devious-looking photographers hanging out the driver’s-side window. “We are going really fast,” I say.

He turns briefly toward me and gives me a funny look. “No, we’re not.” I was right all along, you know. Sure, yes, all the activities he suggested were about doing something cool he’d never done before, but mostly they were about not talking. Maybe I was being naive, but you have to know I go into each one of these with a heart clouded by optimism and a willingness to believe the best in everyone. He is searching for something new in his work and in his life—that’s all real. But his ulterior motive became unavoidable after we played one hole of golf. You try asking a question with a tape recorder jammed under your bra strap and your notepad under your armpit so that you can hit a ball nowhere near the hole.

“I want to be misunderstood. People are always changing, and the more you put something down in print, people form opinions and they’re constantly creating who they think you are.” After we return the cart, Pattinson and I hit the restaurant in the clubhouse. We sit with beers served in glasses the size of fishbowls and eat hot dogs (ketchup and mustard). I try again for even one iota of intimate conversation. But he just asks me why he would ever answer. So I think back on all the interviews I’ve done, and I tell him very honestly that I think it’s because people want to be heard. Most of us, even the most famous of us—sometimes especially the most famous of us—want to be understood. “I don’t,” he says. “I want to be misunderstood. People are always changing, and the more you put something down in print, people form opinions and they’re constantly creating who they think you are. If you do something that contradicts that, or if you do something which goes out of that box, then you can look like a liar or something like that.” He prefers to stay nimble, you see. There will be less to combat later if someone like me can’t throw his words in his face. It’s just not worth it, he says. Especially now. Especially now that he’s finally back among the living. Living is picking the movies you want, reacting to the world as it comes. Living is walking your dog. That’s why he isn’t giving me shit, he tells me. He hopes I understand. It’s for the best, he says. He’s alive again. Finally he’s alive again. Taffy Brodesser-Akner is a GQ correspondent. This story originally appeared in the September 2017 issue with the title "The Second Coming of Robert Pattinson."

#robertpattinson #robert pattinson

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showingthroughtome · 8 years ago

Text

out of our hands

“a five part study on the effects of eye contact on perceived closeness”

Or the one where Harry is a psychology grad student who is running a study, and Adalyn is the girl who signs up for it.

a one shot i wrote for ash last summer that i didnt post on tumblr for some odd reason

read below

Harry had been in school for a long time. A very long time. Years and years and years, is what he'd say if anyone asked.

He did thirteen years of school before he started college and then six since - four years of undergraduate where he got his bachelor's degree in psychology, and for the last two years he'd been working on his master's degree.

He was supposed to be almost done. He was supposed to have seven more weeks until he was out of the collegiate atmosphere. But the forces of nature, or magnetic energies, or maybe even God himself wasn't ready for that. Because somehow, his final research article had been skewed. So much so, that if he couldn't fix it, have it sent for review, and approved before the deadline, he'd have to stay around another semester and conduct his research study all over again.

One of his peer reviewers, this asshole Brennan, noted on his article that his findings could have been altered due to "unaccounted for manipulation". When the board saw that and questioned Harry, he knew right away Brennan was correct. His results wouldn't be significant enough to grant him a well-written article, and Harry wouldn't get his master’s degree.

Thankfully, he had enough time to conduct his study one last time, on one completely new participant. All he had to do was find someone he had never once met before, someone he had no chance of knowing. He went to a friend and asked them to spread the word. After only three days, he heard back, hearing about some other psych major who was always participating in studies - it was her thing, her love.

So here he was, with six weeks to do an entire study, get together a write up, and send it off. And all he had was a name.

Adalyn.

session one

Adalyn was ecstatic about life as of late. She was halfway through her sixth semester of college - only having seven weeks before summer break and having just turned 21 right before spring break. That meant she didn't have to sneak in bars with a fake ID anymore, or pretend to be sneaking when in reality the people just let her stay because her hair was pink and her eyelashes fluttered. She didn't mind having guys look at her in awe, but it did make her feel dirty, slightly sleazy, for using her looks to get her what she wanted.

Other than legal alcohol consumption, age came with a sense of assuredness for Adalyn. She was finally feeling confident in declaring her major, thinking psychology was the right path for her, especially after volunteering for all those research studies over the last two years - any that she qualified for, she would readily go to. It was probably because her freshman year Research Methods class taught her the value of a good sample size and how helpful it is to the experimenter when people actually participate in their study instead of ignoring it completely. (Life tip #1: always fill out a survey honestly and carefully. People work hard at developing those, and sometimes base their whole career on responses.)

Not only did she find the studies to be fun, but they also looked good for grad school applications. Her grades were looking excellent so far, not getting anything but A's since she took English 300 her sophomore year. (Life tip #2: don't take a 300-level class until junior year - not that it's actually that much harder, but they normally suck horribly, so just save yourself the heartache for one more year.)

That's why when her best friend heard from her friend that his friend was conducting a study that called for a new participant as soon as possible, she jumped on the opportunity, figuring it could only do everyone some good.

She had to be in the research building by 10am, not too early and not too late, but still, she found herself rushing there. Her first class of the day got out at 9:30, and the buildings weren't far from each other, but of course she spilt the last little bit of her coffee on her chest when she went to put her notebook in her backpack. She had to run back to her dorm and change into something else.

Originally she was dressed nice, wearing light-wash jeans, a polka dotted blouse, and her favorite pair of oxfords - classy chic was her goal. With the quick change though, she didn't have enough time to find a non-wrinkly shirt so she picked the first folded t-shirt she had in her dresser - a grungy old Nirvana one her older brother let her have (or she stole, who knows, really?).

To say the least, she was out of breath swinging the door open to room 3068 on the third floor of the psychology department's low-tech research wing. She was shocked to find no one in, first assuming she was early. Looking at her phone, it read 10:04, so nope, it wasn't a miracle, she wasn't early. It just happened the experimenter also had bad time management skills.

All that the room held was a table and two chairs placed on either side of it - reminiscent of interrogation rooms. Adalyn could've sworn she saw an exact replica of the room on one of those A&E shows where they recount the violent crimes of various criminals.

Staring at the empty room, she didn't know what to do with herself. Like any sane person would, she plopped her butt down on one of the cold metal chairs and waited. But not for too long, because after just a few scrolls through Instagram, the door was once again swung open and a man walked through - or more so rushed in.

Adalyn first noticed his height, his tall, lanky legs and arms. Then she noticed his age. He was younger than she expected - most people who ran studies were nearly greying or at least old enough to be rocking a wedding band on their finger. This guy, though, looked to be just a few years older than Adalyn.

“Hi!” She popped out of the chair, going in for a professional, strong handshake. The man reacted accordingly, shaking hers for just a second before going about the room, dropping his books off and picking up a clipboard.

“Running a bit late.” Were the first words he breathed. Turning back to Adalyn, he held out the clipboard to her. “These are the consent forms, pretty standard stuff. Just take a look through and sign please.”

“Of course!” Adalyn responded cheerily, not letting one ounce of her day’s misfortune carry into her interaction with this man. Still, he raked his hand through his hair and turned to gather materials.

She sat down and read over the paper. She could've just skimmed and signed it, but what can she say? She's a nerd for this kind of thing. She thought maybe research procedures and release forms could totally be her future. Or maybe after she spent a decade testing the effects of ambiguity on helping behaviors.

The paper had all kinds of fun information though. Not just procedures but researcher information - hypothesis, thesis, compensation. From it, Ashlyn learned the name of the man in front of her, the one who had taken a seat on the opposite side of the table and began fiddling with a timer: Harry Styles, a graduate student looking to explore eye contact in association with perceived closeness.

She signed the form and slid it to the side, waiting further instruction, but without looking up, Harry reached for another form and slid it across the table.

“This is just a self-report survey about any feelings you may have. Please answer as truthfully as possible. My colleagues will be gathering the data so I won't know who said what.” He still didn't look up, just spoke like a machine.

Adalyn nodded, not that it mattered or anything. It was just – well, she just hadn't felt that unnoticed in a long time. Harry didn't have to bask in all her beauty or anything, but maybe a little bit of acknowledgment would've been nice.

She went along with it anyway, because the guy clearly needed it and she was already this far into it. All of the 10 questions on the survey pertained to either how she felt at the moment or how she felt in accordance to the experimenter. It was on a 5 point Likert Scale. 1 being negatively, 3 being no feelings at all, 5 being positively.

Half were 5’s. Half were 2’s.

By the time she completed the survey, Harry was finally done setting up whatever he was doing.

“Alright, thanks.” He said, adding her survey to the pile of papers. “You're Adalyn, correct?”

She nodded. “Harry?”

“Yes. Nice to meet you.” He gave his first half-assed, tight-lipped smile.

It was better than nothing.

“Okay, well in this study,” Harry began reading from a sheet of paper. It was standard protocol for a research study. The conductor of the experiment would read from a sheet of paper detailing what the participant would be doing in the study. It was a way to account for variables across participants, making sure that outside factors, such as experimenter delivery, didn't have an effect on the outcome. “You, the participant, will hold eye contact to the best of your ability with the experimenter for five minutes over five sessions. After each session, you will fill out a survey containing the same questions as the one you did previously. Changes in answers will show an effect of eye contact, the dependent variable, on perceived closeness, the independent variable.”

Adalyn listened closely to the formality of it all. The obsessive compulsion of studies always delighted her in some strange way.

“You may blink, and if you need to stop at any time, feel free to tell the experimenter. Your participation is greatly appreciated.” Harry finished up the short paragraph, lifting his eyes. “Any questions?”

“Nope. Five minutes of eye contact. Got it.” Adalyn ran through.

“Okay, then we will begin when I start the clock.” Harry grabbed the small stopwatch, set it for five minutes. “Now.” He said, initiating eye contact and laying the small device on the table.

There was no way around it, it was fucking weird. Eye contact for a long period of time was just unnatural, anyone would agree. But she couldn’t really do anything about it, except for stare into the eyes of this man who would barely look at her a few moments before – not even other parts of his face, just his green eyes.

It felt like forever, like time was standing still and all she'd ever be able to see when she looked away was that shade of emerald. Or maybe they were more forest-y? Perhaps jade? Adalyn wasn't sure, though she was sure it had to have been five minutes already. The timer must not have gone off.

Right as she was about to drop her eyes, unable to do it any longer, it kind of got nice. Tension felt to have faded, and the awkwardness that is one human being staring into the eyes of a complete stranger fizzled. But before she could be sure that actually happened and she wasn't just imagining it, the timer did go off and Harry sunk back in his chair.

Quick enough, he handed her the second survey, and with just a short goodbye she was out of the door, blinking repeatedly to try to erase the one color was stuck in her mind.

---

Harry sat back in his chair for a long while after Adalyn had left the room. It was weird doing that again, after so many months of not. But even still, it never quite felt as intense with the past participants. Something about Adalyn, with the pink hair and icy blue eyes, had him shaken. Right from the start, he noted how beautiful she was, how happy she seemed, and the eye contact only added to it.

As he tried to gather himself, he couldn't help think of how Brennan would be kicking his own ass for the conclusive findings Harry was sure to get with this rarity of a girl.

That is, as long as he didn’t let the data skew.

session two

Adalyn saw Harry again after that, in between session one and two, when she was in the cafeteria with a group of her loud, obnoxious, lovable, freaky friends. They were quite an eclectic group, varying in race and status and major. They were breaking the rules of homogony on every front which is probably what thrilled them the most - knowing that just by being friends, they were defying societal pressures.

She was eating with them, or rather stealing celery and apple slices off of her best friend’s plate, and looked around to catch the set of eyes that shouldn’t have been as familiar as they were. She shouldn't have been able to look at a guy she spent maybe ten minutes with in total and know every variation of green his irises shifted from. But she did, so she waved, just like any normal person would, any self-respecting friendly human being would.

Harry seemed to snap out of a trance when Adalyn raised her hand, turning away without an ounce of acknowledgement, nodding to whatever his small group of friends were saying. They all kind of looked alike, but just a tiny bit. All but one had tattoos littering their arms. They all wore skinny jeans and easy smiles and joked with each other. Harry looked the most serious.

It was the cold vegetable hitting Adalyn lightly on the face that snapped her out of her examining of the table across the room. She turned towards the one person she knew as the vegetable thrower, her best friend, and gave her best death stare. As it turned out, Adalyn wasn't good at evil so her friend just ended up laughing.

She sat there for the rest of the meal wondering why the fuck she was so obviously ignored.

That was almost a week ago, and even remembering that couldn't throw her off her mood, because she had just gotten an A on a paper from one of the hardest classes she was taking that semester: Abnormal Psychology in Children. It had her bouncing with every step and cheeks aching from an unrelenting grin when she walked in room 3068.

Harry was already there this time, doing something on his phone, possibly texting those friends of his about how to properly blow off someone.

He didn't look up when Adalyn stepped in the room and the door closed behind her.

A, she thought, I got an A.

“Hello!” She chirped as she pulled her chair out. Even if he completely ignored her again, she wouldn't care, she wouldn't let it bother her. I got an A.

“Hello, are you ready to start?” Harry was nothing but business, hitting the lock button on his phone and throwing it into his open bag he had on the floor.

The thing was, he didn't look like a dick who ignored pretty girls or who never wanted to say hello. His face could be soft, in the second before he put a stern look on. The moment she saw him staring, before he realized it, he looked incredibly soft, like if she were to touch him it would be a euphoric experience. Then the fucker would open his mouth and was robotic.

“Yup!” She smiled. I got an A.

Harry nodded once, maybe let half his lips turn upward just a smidge, and then they were off. Adalyn did her survey – marking nearly all fives on this day – and then Harry got out his stopwatch.

This eye contact was like it was before, kind of awkward, mostly uncomfortable, but then about two minutes in (or what Adalyn guessed was two minutes because again, time was weird when you had no way of marking it) she remembered she was supposed to be in a good mood. She kept her eyes locked with this grumpy man and thought of how she could call her parents later and brag about how well she did, about how grad schools would want her, and those student loans would one day be paid off.

Without even realizing it, she felt her lips turning into a grin, how could they not with such positive vibes running rampant inside. It was awkward to sit in silence, stare at a guy, and smile for no apparent reason. She really tried to contain it, to tuck her lips together and keep them solid like Harry's.

It was an ongoing effort that she was certain would last the whole five minutes when suddenly, out of nowhere, it was like she stepped into an alternate universe where Harry could show emotion. Just barely, the corners of his eyes crinkled, and the green of his irises may have lightened just a little. If she were allowed to look away, Adalyn would’ve checked to see if he were actually smiling and that she wasn't just making assumptions due to her learnings in Social Psych about facial expressions.

It was pretty clear that they both were smiling though, so she didn't try to conceal hers anymore and sat – surely looking ridiculous – until the timer went off. And as soon as it did, Harry slid the second survey in her direction.

She filled it out without a problem. She had to remain objective, had to remember the survey was how she felt about the experimenter and not about life in general. Even then, for every question, the score increased by one point.

Finishing the survey, Adalyn thought what the hell and decided she might as well at least see why Harry totally ignored her the other day.

“So I saw you the other day?” It came out like a question when she could've sworn it was a statement.

Harry didn't show any indication that he actually heard her, not moving his focus from some stack of papers. What did he even have to read right in that moment that couldn't wait?

“Yeah,” she continued. “You completely ignored me even though I know you saw me so I didn't figure you'd say anything today.”

A lot can be said about Adalyn, probably just as much good as bad. But no one could never say that she didn't speak her mind. Adalyn would let people decide if that fell under the good or bad category themselves.

In that moment, it got Harry to look up even if his face was back to its cold, distant normality. She didn't falter under the heavy gaze of someone clearly unamused by her, instead sat like she had the entire time, trying her best at unamused as well.

“Listen, Adalyn,” Harry started, then shook his head back and forth, something about it made her feel like he would rather be a million places other than sitting across from her. And that's fair enough, but she wouldn't just let him make her feel invisible without an explanation. “It's best that we don't talk to each other except for the study.”

“Oh yeah?” She challenged, breathing in.

“Yes. It's best not to skew data. This is a study on human interaction at its very core. If we start chatting it up in the cafeteria, then who's to say why you fill out the surveys the way you do. I need to know it's because of the eye contact.”

“You know that's being fucked right now?”

“Then all I can do is ask you to forget about this and leave. If I see you on campus and don't go out of my way to be friendly, or if I seem cold any other time, please forget about it when you're filling out that survey.” He pointed to the paper Adalyn hadn't yet handed back.

Adalyn got the importance of validity to a research study, she took a whole damn class on the subject, so she couldn't really argue, nor did she want to. Not when Harry seemed like a good guy just trying to publish his findings.

Adalyn nodded her head, grabbed her book bag from the ground and swung it over her shoulder, leaving the survey on the table as she exited the barren study lab.

---

Harry didn't mean to be a dick, not really, not ever. Not to a nice girl he hardly knew.

He just couldn't have the study under question again. If he had to find someone else to fill in for Adalyn, then that was even more time and resources down the drain. All he really wanted was to finish his study, and the many many years he's spent learning the ins and outs of human behavior – at least from the psychological standpoint.

Though, something about Adalyn already had him questioning what was supposed to be - what he had learned years ago in Psych 330: Human and Animal Behavior. People weren't supposed to call you on your shit like she did, so upfront and uncaring. People normally don't go straight for the kill, without even properly knowing each other.

That's why, when Adalyn left session two, he went to his old Social Psychology professor and had a nonspecific talk about confrontation theories. And when his professor laughed at him due to his “clear girl trouble”, Harry snorted and cracked a joke instead.

session three

Harry was different at their third session – less grumpy, more easy going. And it wasn't even like he was smiling or making jokes, it just felt like he was less angry when Adalyn met him in that same room. Which was pretty fucking weird, if she did say so. Out of nowhere, he wasn't ignoring her when she showed up, or when she tripped just a tiny bit while sliding into the metal chair. He even smirked at her clumsiness, raised an eyebrow in question of how she could possibly do what she just had. Adalyn was in such shock at his acknowledgement that she couldn't make a sound.

She filled out the survey and all the while felt his eyes on her. It was beginning to make her feel like she had something on her face, or maybe she had forgotten a few buttons on her blouse, showing off her lace bralette that left little to the imagination. After subtlety feeling around her face and looking down at her own chest, she knew neither of those were the reason why.

“Okay, you ready?” Harry accepted the survey she passed to him, almost sounding happy and excited to be doing this.

The shock wasn't wearing off so a confused Adalyn nodded and pulled her seat closer to the table, getting ready.

She couldn't stop herself from watching every movement Harry made, trying to find the exact difference in him, as if it could be seen on his flesh why he was acting decent. It couldn't really, not by the way he reached over for his stopwatch then ran his hand through his long brown locks, tossing it so it fell just in place. That just seemed kind of… Well… Hot.

It was most likely due to his acknowledgement in addition to his obvious attractiveness that had Adalyn noticing how Harry did everything just slow enough to make it seem like a tease, like he was doing it so people would watch him, wait for him, to keep their attention to see what the end result would be.

“Alright.” He broke her out of her head with the word, bringing her to the task at hand. He moved his head in such a way that she knew he was going to start the timer.

Staring in the eyes of someone who could barely say hi to you was a lot different than someone who might possibly think you're alright, Adalyn learned. Because that time, it didn't take the constant reminder of a good grade, or a stroke of magic to make the situation less awkward. It just was.

The tension was still palpable, the air still thick, but it wasn't the same as before. It was easier. She just sat and stared at that same pair of green eyes - even though they might've seemed more vibrant.

Whatever was different about Harry, whatever was making him laugh at her tripping and smirking a hello, also had him bringing so much intensity into the room. Yeah, it was easy to stare at him when he was that way, and yeah, she liked it better, but also, it made her body feel stiff. Like she had to move just to shake off his gaze or else he'd figure out everything about her – every mannerism and quirk, every secret she had kept and lies she had told.

It was both a good and a bad feeling.

Her body was almost aching to move, when for the third time, she was saved by the bell in the form of four little beeps from a stopwatch.

At the sound, both fell back into their chairs, almost in complete sync with one another. A moment went by when the room stood still, and Adalyn felt like what they had just experienced was a moment, a spark in some weird way.

The sliding of a survey in her direction had her forgetting those thoughts. It was the experiment. Not a moment. Not a spark. Harry wasn't light or happy, he was angry. He was just having an off day. Maybe he had gotten a good grade back too, skewing his usual demeanor.

Adalyn stuck to answering the questions as truthfully as possible, getting out of her head about what it felt like to be looked at by Harry and instead only thinking of how she felt towards the experimenter - the random guy who held eye contact with her.

Each question raised one point.

---

Whatever was up with Adalyn that day wouldn't bother Harry, he wouldn't let it. She barely said anything, just nodded the whole time, and still, he wasn't going to let himself think about it as he put SPSS data into the program. He'd run his t-tests, check the p-value, and decide if the results were significant.

After he found out that he got that job at his Social Psychology professors research lab, the stress slid right off his shoulders, just like the bad mood he had been carrying around for weeks. And he wouldn't let some random participant in his study mess that up. No matter how much he enjoyed her hair that matched the color of her lips, or her eyes that could wear down anyone's resolve. She wouldn't ruin his good day. Not one bit.

session four

The weather outside was hot, people were sweaty, hair was frizzing. In psychology, you learn that crime rates go up during the summer for various reasons, one major reason being the fact that heat makes people angry. Adalyn wasn't one of those people, and apparently neither was Harry.

When Adalyn found him in the lab, he was relaxing in his chair, nearly giggling as he typed out some kind of message on his phone. The sight alone had Adalyn checking the sign outside of the door so she was sure she hadn't walked into the wrong room and found Harry's happy twin brother.

3068 the door read. She was in the right place.

Cautiously, and mainly uncertain, she stepped through the doorway, pulling Harry out of his own little world. Almost immediately she felt under pressure. Not only was it so hot outside that she had to wear a tank top and her favorite pair of jean shorts, but now Harry was gazing off at her like he liked what he saw. She could feel the sweat gather at her hairline.

Harry wasn't dressed that much different than normal – black jeans and a button up shirt. Except this time, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing a scattering of tattoos, and the first few buttons were undone, showing a bit of his collarbone and possibly more ink.

“Hi.” Adalyn greeted, because she wasn't sure what else to do, what else would get Harry to move and hand her the survey.

“Hi.” He snapped back, but not like he was angry like before, but more so like he was caught doing something and needed to distract from it.

Adalyn, of course, didn't miss his eyes move away from her body slowly, almost hesitantly.

She took a seat in the chair – her chair – and for once, she thanked God for the seats being metal due to them cooling her exponentially. She let every part of her body slouch into the cool metal, feeling no shame when Harry eyed her like she was insane.

Adalyn just wanted this to go as quick as possible so she could get back to her Arctic room and ice cream she had waiting for her. Without much thought at all, she filled out the survey as honestly as possible.

She handed it back to Harry with him asking if she were ready. Like always, she was and he set the timer.

Adalyn pretty much knew what was going to happen by the fourth time she locked eyes with the ex-grumpy man who sat across from her for five minutes. It would be slightly awkward, but with Harry's new found cheer and can do attitude, it wouldn't be so bad.

She tried not to overthink why, out of nowhere, he didn't scowl when she entered the room or why he started greeting her with a smile on his face. She didn't need to know really. It was just a better scenery she'd gladly accept.

They were halfway through the process and the chair Adalyn was sitting in wasn't so cool anymore, it wasn't hot exactly, but all that relief she got from it had worn away. Now she was getting hot again. The room was feeling stuffy, and she felt like she just had to move. So, she did. She inched forward in the chair, leaning her elbows on the table and shaking her hair off of her shoulder, being sure to keep eye contact at all times.

Even that didn't do much to make the heat feel less, causing her to question if maybe the room wasn't actually as warm as she thought it was. Maybe it was just the intent Harry had in his eyes that had her skin feeling on fire and shining from the tiniest bit of sweat.

Adalyn kind of liked that idea.

The idea of Harry looking into her eyes so hungrily that her body had a physical reaction. It had her tingling in that good way she never got enough of, so much so that she'd often egg it on.

So basically, she couldn't help that she leaned forward that little bit more, enough to make her small tank top cover even less skin.

It was like she could feel it in his green eyes – how irritating she was being to his study. Nothing else about Harry gave her any indication that he was enjoying her little show, but all it took was the eyes.

And if he let his slip down her neck for just a split second before they met hers once again, she pretended not to notice.

She pretended not to notice while she was filling out the survey, while she was grabbing her things and smiling a good bye to him.

She walked out proud of herself, thinking that the next session would be fun – the last session.

session five

They were staring into each other's eyes for the last time. And it finally felt completely normal, not even awkward at all. Just like two friends. Which Adalyn knew they weren't, she had no delusion of that. But now she thought maybe the next time she waved at him,he'd return a small one at the very least.

Or possibly a big one.

Because Harry was staring at her again, like he wouldn't be able to look away even if this wasn't all for a study, and Adalyn couldn't help but tease him. She couldn't help but slide off the light cardigan she wore in and move her hair to one shoulder - the weather had dropped again, just like usual for this part of the US. Now Harry had a perfect view of an expansive amount of skin, from the V-neck of her t-shirt all the way up her neck.

He was good though, not playing into her efforts, locking even more ferociously with her eyes. That was enough to get Adalyn to lose some of the upper hand, because one can't just stare at someone like that – so kind and wanting – without having the recipient feel something.

This time, Adalyn needed to shift, not because she was feeling stiff or pressure, but because she just had to. Warmth was wrapping around her again but this time it had to be because of Harry and Harry alone. It was on her neck and up her legs and she just had to.

Once she did, momentarily she was feeling a lot better, like she could contain herself and keep her eyes looking into those green fiery ones.

Harry, though, then moved himself, scooting to the edge of his chair and extending his legs under the table enough to bump into Adalyn's. She moved hers out of the way just barely, not so much that they weren’t still nearly touching.

And then the beeps went off, just four small ones. They should've been louder for the moment that it was – the end of the study. But they weren't, they were the same as all the other times.

Adalyn and Harry didn't react much to the noise, fixed on each other. Until Adalyn was moving, surging forward across the table to connect her mouth with Harry's. Harry had no problems responding to that, standing up so the effort wasn't solely left on her, and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Whoa.” Harry backed up, breaking the kiss and all body contact they had with each other. “Fuck!” He exclaimed, wiping all the evidence of the kiss from his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What?” Adalyn wasn't sure what was so wrong with what she had just done. It was clear that Harry wanted her, he kissed her back so fully that there was no mistaking it. And she waited until the end of the sessions instead of doing it sooner even though she knew she could've. His reaction seemed a bit too much to her.

Instead of replying right away, Harry began pacing the small room, going back and forth in a single line.

“What did I do wrong?” Adalyn repeated. If she were someone different, this would've done a lot to hurt her ego – to see someone react so horribly to a kiss – and even though her ego wasn't hurt, her voice was.

Harry stopped his pacing at once, rushing to the stack of papers on the table. And that's when it hit her. She forgot the last survey – the last survey that could pretty much define his entire research study.

“Fuck!” She stomped her foot, mad at herself for letting desire do something so idiotic.

“Just fill it out truthfully and it'll be okay.” Harry spoke like he was convincing himself, like he needed to hear it so he didn't have to worry.

“Of course I will.” She grabbed the paper from his hands.

Obviously she would fill it out with as much honesty as all the others, because in all honesty, it was a no brainier. Clearly the eye contact had worked. Clearly her perceived closeness was at a five in every way – especially in the way where Harry's mouth tasted like the sweetest honey against hers and his big hand warmed her body.

It took her maybe seconds to fill out the form before handing it back to him. And somehow, in the time she looked away, Harry had appeared on her side of the table. They were closer than they had ever been before, Adalyn noted to herself.

“Good.” Harry looked at her answers for the first time, not putting them straight into an envelope like he normally did. “Where were we?” He asked in one breathe as he slammed the sheet down on the table and brought Adalyn back to his mouth, those hands back on her like they hadn't left. It was all enough to have her giggling while simultaneously trying to keep the room full of that lust.

Before she could even stop herself, she had her hands running down the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one. As more skin was revealed, so was more ink, and the need for her to run her tongue along every line. And she would've, too, if Harry hadn’t reconnected their lips as soon as she had disconnected them.

He was acting like he couldn't get enough of the taste of her, which she really didn't mind, not when he swung her around and had her sitting on the table that had kept them separated for the last five weeks.

It was then, with the cold against her legs, that she realized just what was going on and muttered the words, “This is so fucked.”

“What is?” Harry pulled back to look into her eyes. The two sets of eyes knew each other pretty well by then so if anything were wrong, he'd have known just by that.

Adalyn shook her head and laughed. “Your study.”

“Don't say that, it'll kill the mood.” He went back to kissing along the line of her neck.

“No seriously. I mean, you really proved something here.”

“What's that?”

“Stare at someone long enough and they'll want to have sex with you.”

“I've done this with a few other people, and Adalyn, you're the only person who I've ended the study with this way.”

“Damn, Harry. You have such a way with words.”

“Don't I?” Harry was playful it turned out, smiling against her neck. She had no way of knowing that before, but here he stood, slightly undressed and cracking a few jokes.

And his smirk? Well that was enough to drive anyone crazy, and have Adalyn undoing his belt buckle without a second thought – just knowing she wanted him so viscerally right then was enough for her.

Harry had her shirt off nearly as quick. Then, without warning, he slowed down, taking his time to touch every part of her skin, to kiss where he felt like she deserved and to slip her bottoms off gently.

Adalyn would've done well with a quick fuck, a onetime thing from a hot psych student, but she was finding the slowness pretty okay too. Because when he wrapped her legs around his hips, and slid into her like she was something special, her whole world went fuzzy.

She lulled her head back in pure ecstasy as Harry took his time with her, biting marks into her neck that were sure to show sooner rather than later. She felt herself being useless in his arms, and still she couldn't stop being completely wrecked by him – with every forward motion of his hips, pushing her closer to her end.

It was when she finally decided to look up again, to check that Harry was getting as much out of it as she was, that she met his eyes and reached her climax. It came with a mutter of Harry and then a slump of her body even closer to his. Like any respectable man, Harry followed with a little more coaxing of her mouth on his neck – she was determined to leave a few love bites of her own – and a swirl of her hips.

They were both getting dressed again when the first post-sex words were spoken. And from Harry no less.

“That was fun, huh?” He smiled lightly, testing the waters with his offhand question.

Adalyn pulled on her shirt, surveying the room to see no noticeable differences about it.

“Oh, I definitely have no complaints.” She spoke honestly and freely, living high off her orgasm.

That truth seemed to shock Harry. Probably not that she was satisfied but that she wasn't playing games about it.

“None?” He questioned.

“Nah.” She pretended to think on it, then continued. “And I'm not one for lying.”

“Good to know.”

“Yeah. I figure it might be nice for you to know something about me.” Adalyn stepped closer to Harry, who was fully dressed and grinning contentedly at her from the edge of the table he perched himself on.

“I think so too.” He nodded in agreement, checking his watch. “And so in that case, would you want to have lunch with me?”

#1dff #oooh #dusting off an oldie #im sure people who would read this already have but i wanted it here anyway lol #im posting lm tomorrow!

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sickfics101 · 8 years ago

Text

ANOTHER KLANCE FIC. Take it. :V Prompt from here!

Summary: Keith gets stranded in an unknown city on a cold day with no way to get home. He calls Lance to come pick him up, not knowing that Lance is already sick and should be resting instead.

Last bus: 10:45PM

Next bus: 6:15AM

Keith stares at the sign. His shoulders sag, his breath leaving him in a cloud of white.

He’s doomed. He’s stuck in a city miles away from his own house, and he’s just missed the last bus of the night.

Shivering, he brushes the snow off of a bench and sets his bags down on top of it. His fingers feel like they’re turning to ice, so he shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to keep his body from shaking too badly.

This is all his fault. He’d been the one who had been insistent on coming all the way here. He’d taken a bus after lunch, travelling miles and miles from home just to reach this obscure city–it was the only one that happened to have motorbike parts he needed, and he’d planned his trip so he could navigate using his phone and get back before it got dark.

As it turned out, he’d ended up getting miserably lost in the city, and his phone had died on him due to the cold weather. After spending hours wandering around, he’d finally found his way back to a train station on the other side of the town.

And the last bus left half an hour ago. Just his luck.

He doesn’t know anything about this city, doesn’t have anywhere to stay for the night. It’s too far to walk back, and it’s too cold to sleep out here.

He glances up. The snow slants as it falls from the gaping sky, snowflakes turning gold in the sparse light of nearby streetlights. Shivering, he pulls his jacket closer around him, the spare change in his pocket rattling from the movement.

Change. There’s a payphone across the street.

Keith hates bothering people, especially when it’s this late at night. There are not that many people that he trusts enough to bother in the first place, and most of them are unavailable. Hunk is out of town, Shiro and Allura live too far away, Pidge doesn’t have her own car yet. But maybe if he asks nicely enough, he can convince Lance to drive him back.

He picks up his bags, wincing as his fingertips brush against the frigid bench railings, and starts off to cross the street. This is a bad idea, he’s sure, but he’s tired and cold and he can think of nothing better.

He just really, really wants to be home.

Lance has been feeling off all day.

He’d wakes up with a slight headache and a slight case of the sniffles, but he ignores it and goes about doing work like he always does. But apparently, this is the type of illness that hits really quickly – by noon, his head is pounding and the room is spinning.

Everything is too cold. He shivers, pulling the zipper up on his jacket. Who decided that this was an acceptable building temperature? It really isn’t.

He makes it through the morning–at least, until he runs into his section commander in the kitchen. He’s pouring himself a cup of coffee, but the exhaustion from the past few days is really getting to him: his hands are trembling and he can barely hold the cup still.

His commander takes one look at him and shakes her head. “Go home, Mcclain.”

But he really needs to get things done today. The work deadlines are coming up, and he can’t afford to fall behind. “No, Commander Smith,” he starts, before clearing his throat. “I assure you that can work through this. I promise–”

He’s cut off by a harsh fit of coughing, which lasts for longer than it should. When he finishes, he realizes he’s spilled some of the coffee in his cup, and Miss Smith’s disapproving frown has shifted to an outright scowl. “I wasn’t offering, it’s an order. Go home.”

“But deadlines–”

“This is not debatable. You look like you’re about to fall over, and I’m almost certain you’re contagious.”

Lance’s shoulders sag, and he nods, just once. He is feeling pretty bad, and he doesn’t want to get his coworkers sick. “I’ll clean up the spill and leave,” he concedes.

“Good.” The commander turns on her heels, starting out the door, before she comes to a halt again. “I don’t want to see you here tomorrow, got it? Get some proper rest.”

And so now he’s at home, six hours before his shift ends. He’s been trying to work at home, anyways, but the harsh lighting of his laptop screen is making his headache worse, and it’s almost impossible to concentrate when he’s feeling this shitty.

Sighing, he closes the device, plugging it into the charger, and makes his way over to the bed. It’s not a long walk, but he’s exhausted and dizzy, and the world is tilting in ways that makes the trip more difficult than he should be. When he finally gets there, he sprawls himself over the sheets face-first, but immediately starts shivering and has to sit up again to crawl into the covers.

His whole body feels off. Maybe he’s worse off than he’d thought.

He stifles a sneeze into a cupped hand, and then turns over onto to his side, letting his eyes drift closed. He’ll just sleep this off. Hopefully he’ll be better by the time he wakes up the next morning.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t wake up the next morning, but rather late into the night, to the sound of his phone ringing on the bedstand. He picks it up, staring blearily at the blinding screen. Unknown caller ID. He frowns, almost opting not to pick it up. Whatever stranger is calling him at this hour really needs to learn how timezones work.

He presses answer anyways. All of a sudden, a warm, familiar voice is flooding into his ears: “Lance?”

“Keith?” He’s more than a little surprised to hear his boyfriend on the line. “What’s up?” he manages, his voice still groggy from sleep.

“Thank god you picked up,” Keith rambles. He sounds frantic. “Can you come drive me home? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’m stuck here and I don’t have enough change to call a taxi.”

“You what?” Lance pushes himself upright, blinking back exhaustion. “I… I thought you were taking public transportation home?”

“I got lost. I missed the last bus.”

“Keith, it’s almost midnight. You want me to mess up my sleep schedule and drive for an hour just to come get you?” Lance teases, smirking into the phone. He’s already out of bed, phone tucked in between his ear and his cheek while he searches the closet for his jacket.

“What? I didn’t… didn’t m-mean that...” Keith’s voice wavers on that note. He really sounds shaken up about this. “...but you’re right. Sorry for bothering you. I’ll, uh, f-find a way...”

“You’re lucky I’m the best boyfriend in the world,” Lance says. “Tell me your location and I’ll be there.”

A pause. “Thanks, Lance. Really,” Keith says, sounding better already. He relates the name of the station he’s at, and Lance listens, holding the phone at a distance away from him as he stifles sneezes and coughs as quietly as possible.

“I’m in the car. Be there in 45,” Lance says, “is it snowing where you are?”

“Uh… yeah. It’s… it’s snowing pretty hard.”

“Make sure you keep warm, okay? If there are any open shops nearby, go wait there.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t get lost again.”

“Okay.”

“I need to hang up now, alright? I’ll be there soon.”

“...Okay.”

Keith is asleep on a bench across from the station when Lance finds him. He’s surrounded by a mountain of bags, wearing only a light jacket that definitely isn’t meant for weather like this.

Lance stops his car at the curb, rolling down a window. “Keith?”

Keith stirs, his head tipping upwards at the sound of his name. A fresh layer of snow has settled on top of his jacket hood, but it slips off as he stands up, hastily brushing stray snowflakes from the folds of his clothing.

He moves all of his bags into the trunk, then slips into the passenger seat. Even in the warmth of the car, he’s still shivering, and Lance mentally curses himself for not bringing any extra clothing for him.

“Didn’t I tell you to keep yourself warm?” he asks, an eyebrow raised as he starts the car again. “You could’ve waited in a shop or something.”

“I didn’t want to get lost again,” Keith explains, zipping up his jacket with trembling hands.

“Oh my god,” Lance huffs. “you could’ve just printed out a map before you left home.”

Keith frowns, fishing his dead phone out of his pocket. He stays motionless for awhile, staring down at the unlit screen with an expression that looks like betrayal.

“I was going to use my phone, but it died on me.”

“That’s why you charge it before you leave–”

“I did! It died from the cold, not from low battery.”

“That’s unlikely.” Lance lifts one hand off the steering wheel to stifle a few coughs into his fist. “Was it really that cold outside?”

“Well... yeah.” Keith puts his phone away and leans back again, crossing his arms. “It snowed all day.”

“And you couldn’t have checked the weather?”

“That wouldn’t have–” Keith stops abruptly, his mouth slamming shut. Lance is about to ask him if something’s up, but Keith beats him to the chase: “Are you cold?”

That catches Lance off guard. “What makes you think that?” He scoffs, because yeah, he’s cold, but Keith doesn’t need to know that. “Are you changing the subject because you don’t want to talk about how much of an idiot you are–”

“No, it’s not that.” Keith cuts him off, sounding distracted. Lance takes advantage of a red light to steal a glance at him, only to realize that Keith is already scrutinizing him closely. “You’re shivering.”

Shit. Uh. “I’m not,” Lance lies, trying his best to stop his body from trembling. He hadn’t even realized until Keith pointed it out.

Keith raises an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

“Okay, maybe I am slightly cold,” Lance concedes, absently wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “Why? Aren’t you?”

“No.” Keith blinks, tugging at his scarf so that it unravels a bit, “it’s nice and warm in here. It’s a bit too warm, actually.”

“Yeah, well. Staying out in the snow for half a day probably messed up your sense of temperature.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Keith turns his head to stare out of the passenger window. Lance pinches the bridge of his nose, stifling two sneezes into his hand while his boyfriend isn’t looking.

The silence that follows is unexpected. Lance clears his throat quietly, ignoring the sharp pain that surfaces as a result. “Did you find the components you needed?”

Keith perks up at that. “Yeah, I actually did.” He’s usually a quiet person, but when he’s passionate about something, he can talk about it for hours. “I needed a particular set of brakes, right? It turned out that the shop I was at ran out of stock, so I had to go all the way to the northern end of the city…”

Lance just listens quietly, too tired to say a word. His head is pounding, and he can’t quite keep up with everything that Keith is saying, but he likes hearing the sound of his boyfriend’s voice. It’s nice.

He drives quietly for awhile, caught in the warm, comfortable haze of the words he hears but doesn’t process. Then, suddenly, he realizes that the Keith’s voice has turned a couple degrees sharper:

“–Lance? You still with me? Lance!”

His name turns from static to sound in his mind, and he blinks, snapping out of the trance. “Sorry, I zoned out. What’s up?” His voice sounds awful. He hadn’t realized how so much congestion had accumulated in such a short amount of time.

“I asked if you could pull over for a sec,” Keith reiterates. “I have something I need to get from the back trunk.”

“Oh. Sure.” Lance maneuvers the vehicle carefully to the side of the street. “Go ahead.”

Keith slips out of the car and shuts the door behind him. Lance leans back in his chair, his posture sagging, and waits as a particularly harsh coughing fit runs its course. No wonder he was sent home. He’s really feeling like shit right now. Driving isn’t exactly the most strenuous activity, but the 45 minute trip here has somehow sapped all of the energy from his body, and his headache from this morning hasn’t let up at all.

To his surprise, a few seconds later, his own car door is pulled open. “Keith, what are you–” he starts, but his sentence cuts off sharply when Keith sets a hand onto his forehead.

“You have a fever,” Keith states, as bluntly as ever.

Lance shrugs noncommittally, drawing away from his touch. “I thought you were getting something?”

“I wanted to check your temperature, but I knew you wouldn’t actually pull over if I phrased it that way.”

“Oh.” Lance blinks, slightly disoriented. “That’s... true.”

Keith is reaching out again, but this time, Lance doesn’t have the energy to move away. His fingers are cold, but not icy, and they feel inconveniently nice on Lance’s too-hot cheeks.

“You’re burning up.

“Or,” Lance counters, “maybe your hands are just too cold.”

Keith removes his hands, and Lance almost wants him to put them back again. “Did you go to work like this?”

“I got kicked out,” Lance admits sheepishly, looking down, “my section commander sent me home.”

“I can see why.”

He scowls. “Shut up.”

“Why did you drive here anyways?” Keith demands, changing the subject. “You should be resting.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “I went home early, I’ve been resting all day–”

“That isn’t enough. Don’t you always lecture me about how sleep debt is a thing? You’ve barely gotten any sleep all week.” Keith pauses, frowning, and Lance deflates a little. It’s true. He’s been so busy with work lately that he hasn’t really been getting proper rest.

“I’m… sorry?” he offers, before twisting away to cough a few times into his hand.

Keith huffs a sigh, resigned but affectionate. “Here, let’s switch seats. I’ll drive.” He takes Lance gently by the forearm and leads him out of the car. As soon as Lance is outside, he can’t stop his body from shivering anymore–it’s utterly frigid. How the hell did Keith manage to spend half a day in this weather?

Thankfully, they’re not outside for long. Keith lets Lance to get settled in the passenger seat, then slips into the other side of the vehicle. He sets the car into motion again, and Lance just stares blankly out of the windshield, wondering how this situation has managed to turn around so quickly.

He’s starting to drift off again when Keith’s voice breaks the silence, steady and warm. “I wouldn’t have called you to pick me up if I knew you were sick.”

“I still would’ve come,” Lance says.

Keith shoots him a glance, skeptical. “What?”

“I still would’ve come to get you,” he repeats, sniffling. His eyes are already halfway shut. He’s so tired.

“Why?” Does Keith really not get it yet?

“Because it’s for you,” Lance says, even though that much should be obvious.

For awhile, Keith doesn’t respond. But when Lance opens his again, he’s smiling.

#sorry. for that. uh. excuse of an ending.#why are both my fics AU fics??#i'll write something canonverse soon #omg my writing is so inconsistent bc this fic took me FOREVER and my writing changes every day...#and also sorry for all the italics #voltron #klance #sickfic #fluff #my writing

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