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thatnerdwolfnell · 3 years

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Pocky challenge: MC x Main six

The Pocky game is a party game played withPocky, a Japanese chocolate- or candy-coated biscuit snack. Two participants place the Pockybetween them “Lady and the Tramp” style, and try to be the last to hold onto the biscuit, often resulting in a kiss.

^coppied from google.

Ohohoho. Yes. Thank you. I love you. This would have been done yesterday, but I was a dumb bastard and I ran out of my meds so I was busy feeling like general shit. Sidenote: me and my uni friends used to do this with gummy bears before Covid because we have no shame I guess? Idk.

Pocky game Mc and Main 6

Asra:

He loves it. Even when you kiss him regularly he still loves the thrill and challenge of the game.

He has a bit of a competitive streak so if he has to he will full on kiss you and suck the slimy ass pocky out of your mouth. (I'm sorry for that image)

When he pulls out some strawberry pocky hes already got that cheeky knifecat smirk on his face.

He rattles the box a bit specifically to draw your attention

He gets that dark heavy sparkle in his eyes as he puts the strawberry end between his lips and just looks at you, completely still.

You try to hide your smile, you love when he gets like this.

Asra has a thing for games.

You shift over on the couch enough that you can take the end of end of the pocky in your teeth.

He leans in to take another bite and steadies you with an unexpected hand sliding up from the small of your back.

you raise an eyebrow

The corner of his mouth twitches up into a grin.

he takes a deep breath and holds it as he inches closer. He somehow has nibbling the pocky within millimeters down to a practiced skill and he always holds his breath when he starts getting close. It's a focus thing and probably to keep from moving too much. You can tell he expects to win.

You lace a hand through his hair gently anchoring at the nape of his neck, and bite off most of your end

He blinks in surprise and finally lets out his breath slow enough that it catches in his throat and sends goosebumps down your spine.

His face is so warm next to yours. You can hear his heartbeat, quick and shallow in his chest.

"Gib ub yet?" You ask. There's not much left of the pocky but you know he won't stop.

He grins around the pocky.

The hand on your back slides to your waist. The other skims along your thigh and you gasp slightly.

He doesn't break eye contact. You let out a shaky breath as he nibbles just enough off to keep your lips from touching. If you moved you could easily kiss him.

He plays dirty. He likes teasing you. Waiting for your next move.

You kiss him hard and push him down onto the couch taking the whole last bit of the pocky in your mouth and crunching down.

He tilts his head back and laughs his hair falling back into his face.

"mm I think you cheated" he smirks and leans in to kiss along your jaw

"So did you." You say. You grab another pocky and smooth his hair away from his face before you push off.

Nadia:

Well Nadia isn't really one for party games but she IS one for food. (I think we have a couple different canon scenes I could use as evidence here)

She's never heard of it but she's intrigued.

It's after dinner and you're both still at the table. This isn't something she would ever do in public

"If you wanted me to kiss you, all you had to do was ask...but if you'd rather earn it that can be arranged"

She takes a pocky and gently feeds the end in your mouth.

"If you drop it you'll have to earn my kisses some other way. And I'll be sure to make it a very long night."

She smiles sweetly with just a hint of a smirk and your heart skips a beat.

The way she looks at you with so much reverence, like you're one of her intricate, beautiful machines and she'll take you apart piece by piece just to understand every part.

She starts eating her end and you do the same. She somehow looks elegant with her lips pressed around the pocky and the heat of her breath condensing against the chocolate.

She pauses at the very last bit and let's you close the gap. Her lipstick tastes sweet and floral.

You deepen the kiss and run a hand along her shoulder.

She grabs you by the waist and leans you back against the table in one smooth movement without breaking the kiss.

One hand pins your wrist against the wood above your head while the other is still wrapped around your waist under your back so that it arches slightly.

"I didn't say you could do that, MC." There's amusement in her voice that draws in a low whisper.

She gently caresses down your neck stopping in the middle of your chest. "But I don't want to wait."

She kisses you and you kiss back letting your hands wander through her hair while she presses down over you.

"that's good, love. We should do this more often."

Julian:

He suggests it at the rowdy raven one night. A game he picked up in his pirate days.

"Come on, who's down for a little fun? Make the party more interesting."

Nadia rolls her eyes.

Portia immediately looks at you and pointedly tilts her head at Julian, wiggling an eyebrow suggestively.

You blush a little. You're about to volunteer to play when Lucio steps in.

"I'm up for the challenge. Give you a chance to get near my lips, hey Jules?"

If Julian is disappointed, he doesn't show it. He just grins and pulls out a pocky. "Alright that's the spirit!"

They move down the pocky rather fast and it's clearly a competition. Neither hesitates before meeting in the middle. Julian pulls of with a dramatic peck before pulling away just as fast.

"Anybody else?"

"I'll go!" You take your chance a little too quickly and you see Portia smile in the corner of your eye.

Ah MC. Perfect!" He seems surprised. Maybe a little flustered.

You take a pocky in your mouth and offer him the other end.

He blushes and leans in to start chipping at the biscuit.

He smells like salt and leather. You can feel his heartbeat in his lips moving the stick.

You lean in further, resting a hand on his knee as if for balance. He stiffens but you can see his smirk grow wider.

You both hesitate at the last little piece, caught in the moment of closeness. You start to move to take it and kiss him but he pulls away before you do.

You look at him startled. He's bright red and flustered.

"Ah. um MC I- I didn't think you were going to-"

He's been doing this. Avoiding you when he knows you both want it. You've had enough of that.

"Did you want to?"

He blinks. "What?"

"Kiss me. Did you want to?"

You hold him under your gaze and his eyes soften into something like longing. Or guilt. Or hunger.

"...yes." he says it simply and quietly. Like the only true thing he can find in a single soft word.

And you kiss him. You feel him melt into the kiss and he's kissing you back.

You hold his face in your hands and he pulls you in closer.

You can feel how much he wants this. Like water in the desert. His brow is furrowed in desperation. You break away.

The hurt in his eyes is obvious and you brush his hair out of his face rubbing a thumb along his cheek.

"Hey," you look him in the eyes and try to convey everything in that look. "I'm not going anywhere, you get that?"He nods.

"We can have this all the time." You say.

His eyes wander down your body. "All the time..." He repeats softly.

You kiss him again, much gentler this time. He pulls you in and you feel like THIS is how things were always supposed to be. And this is the life you want to have. With Julian and your friends, and everything right in the world.

Muriel :

He is a blushy boy. But he's been approaching things like this with curiosity, and maybe even wonder, even if it can be hard to tell.

He never refuses a touch or a kiss, and for a while you weren't sure he knew he COULD refuse.

You don't want to make him uncomfortable and you were worried he just tolerated it for your sake.

While he's been getting better, he still lacks awareness of what he wants and likes. You've been helping him figure out his boundaries after years of having them constantly violated and convincing himself that it doesn't matter.

When you told him he seemed surprised. "No, I like it, MC. I always like it." He made it clear that he would say no if he was uncomfortable, "like with cantaloupe or bananas." He said.

(Not eating foods he didn't like had been game changer. A lot of textures bother him.)

Since then he's been making more of an effort to initiate and touch has become something of communication for him.

Hand squeezes for comfort, an arm barring you from accidentally stepping in a rabbit hole, a touch on the shoulder to say "be careful", a nudge to say "look at this", a nuzzle into your neck to say "I love you"

It's just easier than talking. It's how he's always talked to Asra amd Inanna despite the telepathy.

But this is something different.

"But...why?" He asks as you take a pocky from the box. He's already blushing like crazy.

"Because it's fun." You say and you put the end in your mouth.

He frowns but you can see the amusement in his eyes.

He takes a small bite off the end and leans back chewing it curiously.

You laugh. "No, you're supposed to keep going and we hold on until we get to the middle."

"Oh." He leans back in and starts eating away at his end. He looks at you for confirmation, a look of confusion on his face.

You smile and inch closer.

He's bright red and you can feel the heat from his face and his heartbeat, strong and fast.

You both pause at the last bit, daring the other to make a move.

His green eyes are bright and sharp as they lock with yours for just a glance.

Then he closes the gap kissing you gently. Eyes closed, taking the last bit before moving away.

A hand rests on your waist and the other on your shoulder.

"Sorry, did you want the last bit?" You think he's teasing you, but the alarm in his eyes say he's completely serious.

You laugh "no, of course not. I just wanted to kiss you."

He smiles and pulls you into his arms. "I know. But I thought you still... might have wanted it." He shrugs.

He looks down at you and you feel his heart skip. "You could still taste it. ...if you wanted to that is."

What? His mouth twitches up into a slight smirk.

OH.

You kiss him for real this time. And you both end up on the floor of the hut laughing.

You kiss him again.

And he kisses you.

Again and again and again.

Portia:

Yeah she's definitely played before.

Something about the kitchen staff at the last masquerade?

Anyway the rowdy raven has gotten, well, rowdy.

Julian brought the pocky and there's enough overly competitive people in the room that there's been a few kisses.

Portia grabs the box from brother and shakes it teasingly in your direction.

"MC!" She winks. "How about it?"

Her face is flushed from Mazelinka's sangria that she snuck in (which you're pretty sure is actually just pure liquor) but Portia can hold her drink despite going red rather quickly.

You grin. "If you think you're up for it."

You get up and sit down next to her and move a piece of hair off her shoulder, resting your hand there longer than you need to.

She's beautiful when she's smiling like this, having fun.

You can't help a bit of a smile when she leans into your hand slightly while she takes out a pocky.

While you're distracted, she suddenly pokes the end into your mouth making you jump back in surprise.

"Mm hey!"

She just laughs leaning back in the booth letting her giggles fade with a snort.

"Don't drop it!" She says between laughs.

"I'b not!" The pocky is still hanging from your mouth and you wiggle it around for emphasis.

She leans forward and takes the other end in her mouth.

Her eyes sparkle and suddenly she's reaching her arms around your waist pulling you in closer

Your eyes widen and she smirks. You feel the exhale of a silent laugh on your skin.

You're so close and she's so warm. Your heart is pounding.

There isn't much left of the stick and you're not sure if–

Oh.

You didn't mean to but now your lips are together and they're warm and solid and everything seems to explode at once.

The last bit of pocky falls to the ground as you gasp.

She frowns slightly when you pull away, but she still has that self-satisfied expression.

You lean in again and lift your hand towards her face. Hesitating. Waiting for permission.

But then she gives you a look through her lashes. She glances again at your lips.

You tilt your head as you lean in and close your eyes, cradling her face in your hand and letting the other press against her waist.

She moves closer and you can feel her chest pressing against yours.

You pull her tighter and she makes a small delighted noise between a laugh and a gasp.

"Oh. I love this." You say between kisses.

She grins. "This'll be an adventure, hey?"

Lucio:

He sets the box of pocky on the table in front of you.

"You've heard of the pocky game right?"

You nod, unsure of where this is going. Normally Lucio is pretty straightforward about kissing you.

"Well how about a little wager? If you win I'll get you whatever the hell you want, a whole shopping spree of the finest jewels, clothes, whatever."

You nod again. "Alright and if you win?"

He shifts uncomfortably wringing his hands. "Well, if I win.... youhavetotakeCamiotohisvetcheckup."

You sigh. Oh god. So that's what this was about. Camio HATED the vet. That rascal of a bird would be screeching insults the whole time.

You could see why Lucio was trying to get out of it.

You love that little shit, but damn he could be annoying. He's the kind of bird that will hold a grudge for about a week, and he does not take vet trips lightly.

"Please?" Says Lucio, "and if we meet in the middle we go together."

"You realize that I could just say no and make you do it yourself, right?"

"But you're not going to because I'm your boyfriend and you love me?"

You frown.

"Okay but then you wouldn't get to kiss me. Plus Camio likes you more, he'll be nicer with you there."

You pause considering. It WOULD be good to have a buffer instead of leaving the poor vet with Camio and Lucio by themselves.

"Fine, but ONLY if you win, remember?"

"YES!" he eagerly grabs a pocky and sticks one end in his mouth.

You take the other end and start chewing as fast as you can.

He takes a moment to get his bearings and catch up but once he does you're both at the very end right before the middle.

Neither of you want to move, both trying to avoid the task.

You try to get him to back down by inching a little closer, but he stays put.

He moves the tiniest bit.

And then you kiss.

fuck.

"YES!" He shouts, jumping back in triumph.

"You have to come too, still." You say.

Yeah but i won't mind if you're there."

You sigh and lean back.

"Oh come on don't look like that. We'll do a half shopping spree. That seems more fair anyway. I get half a win, you get half a win."

You laugh. "Alright, alright. Where is that stupid bird anyway?"

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Taste Your Beating Heart, Chapter Two (Taywhora) - Holtzmanns

Aurora had never really believed all the stories about monsters that her sister would tell her when she was little. She’d never been scared of horror movies, always snickering when others would be shrieking and covering their eyes in fear.

Up until now, she hadn’t believed any of it to have a vein of truth, anyway.

But now? Well, she often has Tayce in her kitchen sipping from a travel mug that smells just a smidge metallic. She’s noticed how Tayce’s fangs sometimes peek out when she’s excited about something, along with the red eyes that hide behind Tayce’s green contacts, the ones that kind of suit her face, in a way.

Truthfully, Tayce doesn’t match the description of monsters that she’d heard about when she was little.

AN: Thank you so much for the wonderful response on the first chapter! This verse didn’t feel like leaving my head anytime soon, so here’s 6k more of it. I’m not sure how much of a multichap this fic will be rather than loosely connected chapters in the same verse, but hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Thank you to my number one Writ for betaing and helping me brainstorm/talk through plot points, also Pop for catching my North Americanisms and Ortega for checking over Lawrence dialogue I appreciate you all. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

Up until now, she hadn’t believed any of it to have a vein of truth, anyway.

Truthfully, Tayce doesn’t match the description of monsters that she’d heard about when she was little.

It’s not as if Aurora’s blind. She’s seen Tayce come back from her hunts, how her clothes are spattered with blood that she sheds in a pile on the floor. She’s noticed the way the muscles ripple along Tayce’s arm when she reaches for something. The way Tayce’s glance on her sometimes lasts just a little bit too long, dropping from her eyes to her lips - no, lower than that.

To her neck.

But hey, if Tayce had plans to kill Aurora, she’d have done so already, right? Rather than getting to know what Aurora likes and dislikes and often walking her back from the studio late at night (‘to protect you from the monsters, of course,’ as if Tayce isn’t one herself), and picking up Maccies for her when she hasn’t eaten in hours because she’s going cross eyed while looking at her dress form.

Four months of knowing Tayce and nearly four months of…whatever this is between them, and Aurora’s still alive. Sadly. Still working away on her graduate collection, and she still has to complete all of the looks and plan direction for the show and figure out makeup and hair and-

Well, her heart’s beating fast enough from the stress of thinking about it that she knows she’s still living. Uni can’t be over quickly enough.

“Why’re you pouting at the sewing machine like it’s insulted your nan?”

Tayce is lying on the floor with her legs propped up on the wall, her face inquisitive, and Aurora raises her eyebrows at the position. Truth be told, Tayce moves quietly enough and Aurora’s been toiling away at the fabric in front of her for long enough that she hadn’t even noticed.

“Is that even comfortable?”

Tayce wiggles her legs in the air, reminiscent of a ladybird turned on its back. “Very. Though you’re pulling the vibe down with that grumpy face. Time to turn that frown upside down, baby.”

Aurora has to ignore how Tayce saying ‘baby’ makes her stomach flip, especially when Tayce probably peppers it into conversation with everybody. Doesn’t mean she’s special, even if they’re together. Are they?

“It’s five weeks until the show. I may die and decompose before getting all of this done in time.”

“Look at me. I’m four hundred and a bit and still fresh as a daisy. You’ll finish this all with time to spare. It’ll be lush!” Tayce murmurs as she comes up behind her, the hairs on the back of Aurora’s neck rising when Tayce leans down to wrap her arms around her from behind.

Aurora leans backwards into the hug, sighing. This whole collection would be a lot easier if the patterns and fabrics on the table front of her could just pull themselves together on their own. “Easy to keep from decomposing when you’re a vampire and all that, no?”

“I prefer the term creature of the night,” Tayce says, and although she’s behind her, Aurora can almost picture the mischievous grin on her face. “More dramatic.”

Aurora wrinkles her nose. “Aren’t those prostitutes?”

“Those are ladies of the night. Though I did dabble in that back in the twenties. Really droll, actually, taking all of money from men before-”

“Before you sucked them dry, yeah, yeah. You know, sometimes I forget how ancient you are, until you use words like ‘droll’ in actual conversation,” Aurora finishes, snorting when Tayce comes around to the other side of the table with an indignant expression.

“Oi, watch it, you hound,” Tayce sniffs, but there’s no vitriol in her statement, really. “Pfft, ancient. Please. If anything, I’m young as far as vampires go.”

“I’m sure you are - hold this up for a second,” Aurora hands the prototype garment she’s working on to Tayce, walking around the table to her side.

Now that Tayce is holding it up, the pleats really could fold a little bit nicer, maybe she’ll have to take it in around the waist a bit more…

“It really doesn’t bother you, does it?” Tayce’s question cuts through her thought process, and Aurora’s not sure why she looks so incredulous, why she’s shaking her head just a little.

“What doesn’t?”

“This. All of this.”

Tayce gestures to herself with a little more force than necessary because it shifts the draping of the garment, and so Aurora taps her shoulder as she tuts.

“Oi, stop moving. All of what? Your inability to stand still for longer than twenty seconds? Because you can’t.”

Tayce huffs, her eyebrows pushing together in a frown that Aurora doesn’t really understand. “No. This. I could kill you right now, if I wanted to. That doesn’t bother you?”

“Well it’s a good thing you don’t want to then, isn’t it?” Aurora shrugs as she folds over the hem of the garment, because really, what can she even say?

Aurora’s self preservation instincts aren’t the strongest, not when she’s fine with putting herself in danger more times than not. What does it even matter, in the end? She’s still here, alive and kicking, somehow. Still with her graduate collection hanging over her head.

If Tayce would just go and suck her blood, maybe she won’t have to finish it.

Maybe she has no idea what they’re doing with each other, but at least Tayce is better than her previous ex. Fucking wanker. Tayce hasn’t ever laid hands on her like how he used to, and she doesn’t put Aurora down the way he did, and really, Aurora’s standards aren’t high. She can put up with Tayce having fangs.

Why should it even matter?

But apparently to Tayce it does, from the way that she purses her lips. “You really have no self preservation instincts whatsoever.”

“It’s a good thing I’m pretty then, yeah?”

“You should, though, you know that, right? Any normal human would care about staying alive.”

Maybe Aurora should. But would she really miss out on much if she didn’t? Besides, if she’s going to die one day, going at Tayce’s mercy doesn’t seem like a bad way to go.

“What, would you rather I leave your four hundred year old self alone in a nursing home and make a run for it? I’m nicer to the elderly than that.”

“The cheek!”

“Y’know this is inevitable, right? Bound to happen sooner or later. I can’t not meet your flatmates and coven.”

Tayce’s groan is dramatic enough to be worthy of a BAFTA. “Yeah, but I can absolutely put it off for as long as possible.”

“Seems like it’s not exactly possible anymore, is it?” Aurora raises an eyebrow, snorting when Tayce slumps even lower on the couch. “Not everyday that someone has the chance to celebrate their four hundred and seventh birthday.”

Tayce huffs, her lower lip pushing out in a pout. “You make me sound more ancient than the pyramids.”

“All the more reason to celebrate another lap around the sun.”

“Ugh,” Tayce grumbles. “This dinner is going to be a right mess.”

“As long as neither of them eat me for dinner, we’re going to be just fine,” Aurora grins, but the joke is lost on Tayce, who bites at her lip.

“I dunno if this is really a good idea, especially since you’re human. Not sure how Cara’s going to react being in your presence, really…” Tayce trails off, tapping her fingers on the back of the couch. “She’s already made fun of me enough for falling for you instead of, y’know, actually going after you like any self respecting vampire would.”

“Who needs dignity when you can have me?” Aurora flips her hair over her shoulder as she leans back against the couch, and Tayce’s eye roll is accompanied with a smile.

It’s still strange for Aurora to think of how close she had been to death just a few months ago. When Tayce hadn’t been a constant presence in her life, instead hunting for blood, and not just hunting anyone, but…had almost gone after her.

Tayce had full intentions to kill her, at the time, suck her dry with her fangs and all. The very same girl who shrieks in excitement whenever she sees a puppy on the sidewalk, and secretly is a cuddler who loves being the little spoon.

Quite paradoxical.

But the fact remains that Tayce hadn’t killed her, back then. She’d let Aurora live, and not only that, she’d come home with her that second night and kept her up until morning until they were both gasping, sweaty messes in the sheets and Aurora was pleasantly sore the next day. And the day after that, and the day after that.

Not that sex is the only shared connection between them, not by a long shot, even though Tayce is the best sex she’s had in years, maybe ever, not that she’d tell her that. But Tayce is more than that - she’s a constant who grounds her and gets her out of her head when she’s anxious and makes her loosen up when she’s stressed out with uni work with five minute dance parties.

Tayce isn’t the only vampire in London, though, not when she has an entire coven of vampire friends that Aurora is yet to meet. Friends that could quite easily kill her as well.

She’s charmed one vampire enough to let her continue to live. What’s three more?

Aurora nudges Tayce’s side nonetheless. “Hey, look at me. It’ll be fine. Besides, didn’t you say one of them was a vegan or something? That’s one down, right?”

Tayce sighs, shuffling on the couch so that her head is on Aurora’s lap, and Aurora can’t resist running a hand through her hair. “Bimini’s easy peasy to please. The rest of them are going to be a challenge.”

“As long as you don’t let them stick a straw in my arm and drink me like a smoothie,” Aurora snickers, though Tayce’s expression is pained, a little crease between her eyebrows as she frowns.

“Not funny.”

“Hilarious, actually.”

Tayce hasn’t told Aurora much about her flatmates, aside from the fact that Cara is practically her sister, that Bimini was once a renaissance painter’s muse, and that Lawrence really, really hates London. Every time Aurora tries to press Tayce further she just shrugs, saying she’ll see soon enough.

“I’ve threatened them enough over the last week that they’ll be on their best behaviour. Not that their standards are very high,” Tayce snorts.

Aurora raises an eyebrow. “And yours are? You tried to drink milk straight from the carton last week.”

“I just wanted to see if it still tastes like crap! And update, it does, really nasty. Gave me indigestion,” Tayce shudders, her nose scrunching as she pats her stomach.

“Doesn’t everything give you indigestion if you’re only supposed to drink blood?”

“A girl likes to experiment every now and then. Only blood for centuries gets really boring,” Tayce shrugs, lifting herself up so that she’s sitting beside Aurora once more. “But back to the others. I won’t let them hurt you, alright? You’ll be safe and sound with me.”

Aurora’s not one to overly worry about herself but the words are reassuring, nonetheless. There’s something about Tayce that makes Aurora trust her - maybe it’s the sincerity in Tayce’s eyes, the way they shine under the light on the ceiling. Maybe it’s the way Tayce grabs her hand and rubs little circles with her thumb, as if to drive the point home with the soothing motions despite the coolness of her touch.

Maybe it’s the fact that a part of Aurora really, really wants to see what protective Tayce looks like.

Aurora doesn’t have to wait for long, with Tayce’s birthday rolling around only a few days later. She’s a bundle of nerves from the moment that she wakes up in the morning, because she’s going to Tayce’s place for the first time and meeting her friends as if the two of them are a thing and fuck, what if Tayce doesn’t like her gift? What is one even supposed to give a vampire that’s hundreds of years old?

Certainly not anything you can find at a shopping centre.

But Aurora’s gift for her is wrapped up in a little box, and Tayce has always commented about how she loves Aurora’s creations for uni. She’s tried to guess Tayce’s measurements, and maybe they won’t be exactly accurate because she’s going off of the times Tayce has tried on the mockup looks she’s created for her graduate collection.

But maybe Tayce will like it.

The door swings open only a millisecond after Aurora rings the doorbell, a breathless Tayce on the other side with eyes slightly more crazed than usual.

“Is she here-”

“She’s here!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, let her in already-”

“Shh-shh-shh!” Tayce hisses over her shoulder, and Aurora has to resist the urge to stand on her tiptoes to peek behind her. “You’re supposed to be calm, remember?”

The hushed whispers behind the door make Aurora’s heart beat just a little bit faster in the milliseconds before Tayce opens the door. What if Tayce’s friends won’t like her? What if they think she’s awful because she’s human, what if they get Tayce to hate her, too-

“Oi, move over there, Bims. Hello. Lawrence. Only took eighty three years to finally meet you.”

A girl with a purple ponytail shoves past Tayce, sticking her hand out as if she’s a salesman. Her touch is as cold as Tayce’s when Aurora shakes it, her fangs on full display as she grins. The fluffy cardigan draped over her shoulders muffles the frightening effect just a little, enough to keep Aurora’s heart from beating even faster.

A head of yellow hair ducks under Lawrence’s arm, before straightening up beside Aurora on the front doorstep. “She’s right. You must be a cracking human if Tayce is this shy about bringing you home.”

“I’m not shy-”

“Meeting the family is a big deal. But don’t worry, we don’t bite. Well, not yet, anyway,” a third voice booms, followed by a cackle from inside the hallway.

Tayce lets out a pained exhale, and Aurora would laugh if her insides weren’t currently twisted into a ball of nerves. “Welcome to the clownery.”

Aurora can sense Tayce at her heels as they walk further down the hallway, the dark walls and antique furniture lining the rooms looking straight out of a period piece. She can feel her hair prickling along the back of her neck the further and further they go, and the lounge that they reach feels a few degrees colder than the temperature outside. Aurora suppresses a shiver as Tayce grabs her hand.

Is this what the main characters in horror movies feel like as the suspenseful music builds in the background?

They stop walking once they reach a sitting room, the embellished furniture straight out of a museum. There’s a grand piano in the far corner of the room, and the part of Aurora that doesn’t want to run for the hills wonders if Tayce knows how to play. Tayce’s friends sit themselves down on a sofa lined with velvet, one that Aurora really wants to reach out and touch. They’re graceful in their movements, the slightest crossing of legs or tucking of hair behind the ears somehow delicate, despite their foghorn voices.

Tayce tugs on her arm, pulling her down to join her on the loveseat across from her friends, and Aurora doesn’t miss the way they’re practically pressed up against each other. Tayce’s index finger draws patterns on Aurora’s knee and while the smile on her face gives nothing away, Aurora can see the way her eyes are darting around the room.

Aurora herself is close to fainting on the spot, that’s for certain, from the way that Tayce’s friends are looking at her. Yeah, their styles are rather eccentric and Bimini is most definitely wearing a poncho with a belt tied around the middle, but their looks are piercing. Not a soothing sight either when their eyes are bright red.

“I feel like I’m meeting the parents,” Aurora gets out, because she’s great at small talk, a master socializer. Absolutely about to win the three of them over.

“Feel like? You are,” the girl with the long ponytail is deadpan, and Aurora can’t help but gulp. So much for getting them to like her. “So, what are your intentions with our daughter?”

“You’re gonna fucking make her piss herself before she even has a chance to catch her breath, Cara,” Lawrence snorts, and Aurora wants to deny it, really, except for the fact that her hands are shaking just a bit.

Is it the fact that she’s in a house full of vampires, or a house full of new people to get to know? Aurora’s not quite sure. Hopefully they haven’t noticed her fear, if they’re even capable of smelling it. Maybe they’re not ones for going after easy pickings.

Bimini leans forward towards her, the fabric of her poncho rustling against the sofa. “If it makes you feel better, I won’t eat you. Fresh blood isn’t my thing.”

The vegan one. Or as far vegan as vampires can get, Aurora supposes, though it still does calm her beating heart just a little.

“So I’ve heard,” Aurora squeaks, though Lawrence and Cara’s faces morph into twin indignant expressions.

“Who says that we’ll be the ones to eat her? Absolutely no faith in us!”

“We have manners. Sometimes, at least. Besides, sucking your blood wouldn’t be worth it because it would make Tayce incredibly grumpy,” Cara snickers, nudging Lawrence’s side.

Lawrence’s grin is as mischievous as it is a little spooky, her fangs glinting under the light of the chandelier overhead. “She’s smitten, y’know. Truly smitten. With a human, of all creatures. No offense, of course.”

Part of Aurora wants to ask what’s wrong with being human, before catching herself. She doesn’t really need a visual demonstration to find out.

“None taken,” Aurora raises an eyebrow but there’s more important matters to think about, especially when Lawrence has gone and said that Tayce is smitten and when she looks over, she swears she can see a dust of pink along Tayce’s cheeks.

She’s never seen Tayce look shy before.

Lawrence, for her part, scoots forward on the couch, as if she’s been waiting to talk to Aurora about the subject for weeks. “We didn’t even have to meet you to know she’s head over heels for you. The girl won’t shut her mouth whenever she comes home, babbling on about oh, Aurora’s in fashion school, did you know, oh, Aurora and I went for a walk in the moonlight and I held her little hand-”

“Lawrence, one more word and I’ll rip your head clean off-”

“-as I was saying,” Lawrence continues, albeit a bit louder to drown out Tayce’s protests, “nothing to worry about with the three of us. You’re Tayce’s boo-thang, so you can stay alive for now.”

“Now where did you go and learn that word from?” Bimini asks, a genuine curiosity in their eyes as Tayce lets out a groan.

“Cara, obviously.”

“You lot are embarrassing. C’mon, Aurora, we’re leaving,” Tayce snorts, grabbing Aurora’s hand, and the chorus of objections from the couch is immediate.

“This is your house, idiot-”

“It’s your birthday dinner-”

“I like them,” Aurora hides a giggle behind her hand as Tayce rubs her own temples. “They’re as bonkers as you are.”

Tayce’s nose scrunches as she makes a face. “Who says I’m bonkers?”

It’s cute, though, the way Tayce is hiding a smile behind the exasperation lining her features. Her attachment to her friends is clear as day, and not something that Aurora is used to seeing. She’s had trouble finding a solid group of friends in uni, which isn’t the biggest shock on the planet considering how cutthroat the fashion industry is. Still, seeing the genuine affection as they tease each other tugs on Aurora’s chest for what she could have had in school.

Lawrence’s knowing expression, however, is enough to distract Aurora from the sense of longing that’s beginning to build, and she holds up a finger, pointing between her and Tayce. “Now this? I like this. Good vibes. Some tension.”

“We’re already together, you twit,” Tayce snorts. “There’s really not much investigating to do, is there?”

Together. Tayce has gone and said that they’re together. Together. Not that they’ve discussed it, really, but Tayce has told her closest friends that they’re together and Aurora really hopes that no one else has noticed the little gasp she’s let out under her breath, the smile she has to press her lips together to keep from revealing.

Aurora knows that they need to talk about it because they haven’t yet, not when they’ve fallen into an easy pattern that doesn’t make much sense to anyone looking at them from the outside, but they’ll do that eventually. They’ll figure it out. Aurora’s much less scared of the prospect now, knowing where Tayce stands.

She’s okay with them being considered together.

“You take the excitement out of everything,” Lawrence pouts, sticking her tongue out at Tayce as Bimini pats her shoulder.

“Speaking of excitement, you could really go and give Ellie a call, couldn’t you?” Tayce shoots back, and Lawrence’s eyes bug out of her skull almost comically.

“Who’s Ellie?”

Aurora can’t keep herself from asking the question, not when Lawrence is blustering over her words and Cara and Bimini have matching grins. Tayce has a smirk on her face as she clicks her tongue, shooting a pointed look towards Lawrence before she answers.

“Ellie’s her wife. And how long has it been exactly since you’ve seen her, Lawrence?”

“None of your bloody beeswax, is how long,” Lawrence mumbles, crossing her arms. “All hearsay, isn’t it?”

Bimini leans forward, a knowing look on their face. “The two of them got into an argument in the forties over who had to do the washing and Lawrence has been overstaying her welcome here ever since.”

“Dunno why I’m even staying here. Fucking hate London.”

“Wait. Since the nineteen forties?” Aurora can’t help the disbelief in her voice. “You haven’t been home in eighty years?”

Christ. Eighty years away from someone because of an argument? And here Aurora gets tired when her water takes too long to boil. She’s good at holding grudges, sure, but eighty years seems a tad overkill.

Lawrence shrugs, the unfazed expression on her face echoed on Tayce and Cara and Bimini. “S’about thirty seconds when you’re immortal. I’d hurry home if Ellie would go on and apologize, but she hasn’t. Stubborn woman.”

“Remind me, how do we know again that it’s not you who messed up? What if you’ve been the one who’s supposed to apologize to her this whole time?” Cara’s knowing grin makes it clear to Aurora that this is a conversation they’ve had many times before.

“I’d know if I’ve done something wrong, wouldn’t I?” Lawrence huffs. “Besides, I apologized last time.”

“For the old hens that they are, you’d think they’d get over their little bickering sessions a little bit quicker than they do, wouldn’t you?” Tayce murmurs into Aurora’s ear, and the tickle of her breath on her neck makes Aurora shiver.

“Well enough about me, isn’t it?” Lawrence stands up faster than Aurora sees her move, waltzing towards the doorway. “Isn’t this supposed to be a dinner?”

Aurora’s eyes widen as she shoots a glance at Tayce, who’s pressing her lips together to hide a smile. If Aurora’s honest with herself, she thought they wouldn’t be actually eating because, well…

Everyone else can’t, right?

“Why do you look like you’re about to faint?” Tayce asks, a hand on Aurora’s knee before she even has to say anything.

“I thought…I might’ve…”

“You ate already, didn’t you?” Cara’s knowing voice is filled with mirth and Aurora’s not sure why until-

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Here I thought I’d finally have the chance to taste test my risotto with a human. D’you know how hard it is with vampires who don’t eat human food? Hm? And instead you already ate,” Lawrence’s grumbles from down the hall are interspersed with the clanging of pots, and Aurora looks at Tayce with a panic.

“You didn’t tell me there would be actual food!”

“Don’t be too alarmed by Lawrence’s yammering. She’d only decided on a whim earlier today that she wanted to break out the pots and pans for this shindig, anyway,” Bimini shrugs, as Aurora follows them and Cara towards the kitchen, Tayce just a step behind her.

“Lawrence is the only reason we still have a kitchen. I’ve been saying that this place could be spiced up by something more exciting, but no,” Cara grins, hopping onto one of the stools at the counter. “Lawrence likes to experiment, eat none of what she makes, and instead gives it to the elderly couple next door.”

“I’m Marge’s favourite for a reason, babes,” Lawrence calls out, stirring the risotto at the stove. “That and being a fellow Glaswegian, we’re better off sticking together.”

“Why don’t you get Marge to try your risotto, then?” Tayce points out, and Lawrence’s head shake is immediate.

“The woman hates rice. She’s too picky for her own good, that’s why I was excited for us to finally have a guest over.”

“I’d be happy to try a bite,” Aurora gets out before she can psych herself out of not saying anything.

Tayce turns towards her, a sympathetic look on her face. “Only if you want, don’t feel like you have to so that Lawrence is happy-”

Lawrence lets out a cheer that makes Aurora jump. “Excellent! Knew you’d come around.”

Aurora wants, no, needs them to like her. They’re Tayce’s friends, they’re important in her life and who’s to say their opinion can’t change Tayce’s mind about spending time with her? Aurora’s never been the best at getting a group of people to like her, when in school all she really did was clash with people that felt threatened by her. But Bimini, Cara, and Lawrence look at ease in the kitchen, casual conversation flowing in between them rather than the judgment that Aurora is used to being on the receiving end of.

Good to know she hasn’t mucked up anything yet.

Tayce walks her home that evening, their fingers brushing against each other for a couple blocks until Tayce grabs her hand outright. When Aurora looks over she’s smiling, pride decorating her features.

“Charmed them. Knew you would.”

“If I remember correctly, it was you who was more worried, not me,” Aurora points out, letting out a little squeak when Tayce swings their interlocked hands with gusto.

“Nah,” Tayce shrugs, “wasn’t worried about you. More so about the three stooges making absolute fools of themselves.”

“I liked them,” Aurora murmurs, looking down at the container of risotto tucked under her arm that Lawrence had insisted she take home. “They were all so nice.”

She doesn’t mean to let the marvel show through in her voice but she can’t help it, not when she thinks about the evening. Tayce’s friends, her coven, really, had all the reason to dislike her, being human and a new face and Aurora’s used to having to put guards up at first, when meeting new people.

But Cara and Bimini and Lawrence were as carefree and silly as Tayce is, and somehow even Cara’s story about hunting a man and cornering him behind an Aldi’s was charming, despite the fact that it made Aurora shudder a little. But hey, as long as it’s not her on the receiving end of Cara’s bite, she’s fine, right?

“They liked you, too.” Tayce, for her part, doesn’t sound surprised at all. “It’s a good thing I made them all go for a snack before dinner, isn’t it?”

“Are you saying they went to hunt before I came over so that they wouldn’t want to kill me?” Aurora yelps, and she can feel the little goosebumps that are rising on her arms.

It makes sense, when she thinks about it. They’re vampires, not humans. But still.

It makes the blood in her veins pump just a little bit faster.

“Bimini had an extra capri sun. I mean, a blood bag,” Tayce snorts, and Aurora lets out a weak laugh at the joke.

If they ever hang out with Tayce’s coven as a group again, she’s going to make sure that Tayce always reminds them to eat beforehand.

“Do you have to do that before seeing me?” Aurora can’t help the question as they reach her flat, rifling through her bag to find her keys.

Tayce, though, looks unfazed as she shrugs. “Used to. Humans smell good. You smell good.”

“Oh,” Aurora gulps. She’s not sure if she wants to hear more of the answer.

But Tayce’s eyes soften. “But that’s easily ignored. Besides, I like having you around. Drinking your blood would mean that I wouldn’t get to hear your uni tales or see your creations or hear about your day or have a cwtch on the couch with you while we watch movies. That choice is more than easy. So I don’t really have to pre anymore, ‘cause the fun of spending time with you outweighs any hunger by a long shot.”

“That’s sweet. I think?” Aurora’s not sure, not really, not when there’s no handbook on spending time with a killer.

It would be nice to know what to do. To balance the moral seesaw of knowing Tayce hunts humans, not often, but every now and then at least, along with the fear and thrill of knowing she was almost on the receiving end of it. Tayce’s company is comforting and terrifying all at once, a balance of driving a little too fast on the motorway while listening to soft, calming music. She’s a juxtaposition of calming Aurora’s insecurities while speeding her heart up a little bit too fast at the same time. It’s exhilarating yet confusing for Aurora’s brain to try and piece together, though she supposes she doesn’t necessarily have to. At least, not now, while climbing the stairs to her floor.

“I got you something,” Aurora starts as she unlocks her front door, ignoring the way the butterflies start to rise in her chest.

She’s waited until the end of the night to give Tayce her present just so that she could give it to her in private, not in front of her friends. If Tayce is disappointed, at least it won’t be as humiliating.

Hopefully she likes it.

“A present? A birthday present for little old me?” Tayce exclaims, jumping in place, and Christ, it’s never not adorable to Aurora how easily excitable she is.

“Well, it’s not my great aunt Pat’s birthday today, is it? It’s yours,” Aurora grins, following Tayce further into the flat.

Her studio sized space feels as big as a walk in wardrobe but it’s better than having shitty flatmates, like the girl she shared a place with during the last school year. Aurora’s never going to be able to look at lasagna the same way again, not after one had decomposed in their fridge when the girl had been too lazy to throw out her own leftovers. No, she likes having her own space. One that Tayce can spend time in with her, too.

Tayce reaches the gift box waiting on the counter before Aurora’s finished taking off her coat, eagerly tugging on the ribbons and wrapping paper and pushing the box open and-

“My god. It’s beautiful. You made this? I mean, obviously you made this, s’not going to be pulled off the rack at Selfridges, that’s for sure,” Tayce’s eyes are wide as they dart over the dress, the fabric pooling over her hands like liquid.

“D’you like it?” Maybe Aurora sounds a little too vulnerable, and maybe she doesn’t have to be, when Tayce scurries over to the full length mirror hanging on the closet door to hold the dress up.

“Like it? Are you joking? It’s brilliant. You’re brilliant. I’m never going to take it off and Cara’s going to have to confiscate it eventually to send it to the dry cleaners.”

Aurora can’t help the thrill that lights up her insides, despite the way her nose wrinkles because of the end of Tayce’s statement. She’d been worried, while stitching the dress, that maybe going for such a present would be too much too soon, when they’ve only been doing whatever this is for four-ish months. That maybe Tayce would be freaked out by a custom present so early when they haven’t even talked about what they are, and that perhaps it would be better to stick to something like a box of chocolates.

Not that Tayce can have chocolate. A fact that had helped the decision making process, really.

Tayce is wiggling out of her trousers and top before Aurora can say anything, stepping into the dress and…wow.

The pale fabric clings to Tayce’s figure perfectly, and Aurora’s glad she went for the full sleeves and the deep v neckline because it works perfectly with the cinching at the waist. The dress had looked okay on the dressform but on Tayce it looks almost ethereal, fuck, she’s ethereal.

“You’re going to catch flies if you keep staring,” Tayce’s comment is wry but there’s a delight in her eyes that Aurora catches, a little smile on her lips.

Aurora ignores the blush rising on her cheeks in favour of letting her eyes drag down Tayce’s form yet again. “You’re stunning, fuck. Can’t help it.”

“Who, me? You think so?” Tayce spins in place and Aurora has to resist the urge to bracket her hands on her waist, follow the curve of her hips.

“Well, now you’re just fishing for compliments,” Aurora smiles despite herself, her breath catching when Tayce takes a step closer to her.

Now would be the perfect time to ask, maybe broach the conversation a bit and ask what they are. See if Tayce has a plan because Aurora absolutely doesn’t, not when there’s no literature out there on dating someone who’s immortal.

Are they even dating? The two of them had skipped straight to sex and added cuddles into the mix rather than talking about it first. And as thrilling as it is, part of Aurora’s brain, the part that likes to nag, still wants to know, so that she can classify what they’re doing into a nice little box. There has to be a definition for charming a vampire into being her friend that she spends time in the sheets with and hand makes birthday presents for, right?

Tayce has a mischievous smile on her face, the kind where she’s trying to hide the upward curve of her lips but failing and where her eyes are sparkling bright. Maybe this good mood and post gift high is the time to bring it up, when her walls are already down.

“I…” Aurora has full intentions of continuing her sentence but Tayce is walking her back towards the bed, and oh, the backs of her thighs are hitting the mattress and Tayce is looking mighty proud of herself.

“I think someone deserves a thank you, don’t you?” Tayce grins, licking her lips and the sight in itself is almost mesmerizing. “I’d send a card, but that’s a little boring.”

“No card. We can skip that step,” Aurora breathes out milliseconds before Tayce nudges her back onto the bed, hiking the dress up around her thighs.

She sends a thank you to her past self for putting a slit in the front, keeping Tayce from accidentally ripping it with her movements. It would be a shame for the dress to fall apart in the first hour of Tayce wearing it.

Not that Tayce is going to keep it on for long, from the way she’s already leaning over Aurora, wasting no time in pressing a kiss to the column of her neck.

Really, Aurora can wait until another time to ask Tayce about what they are. She has more important things to think about, like Tayce’s fingers running through her hair and oh, the tug near her scalp that makes her inadvertently let out a moan and makes Tayce grin.

Yeah, there are prevalent things to focus on for now. No one’s ever said that Aurora doesn’t have her priorities straight.

AN: The dress Aurora creates for Tayce in this chapter is basically the one from this ig video. Gotta love real life inspiration! Find me at @plastiquetiaras on tumblr.

Tags: lesbian au, a'whora, tayce, druk, vampire au, taste your beating heart, holtzmanns

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #a'whora #tayce #taywhora #uk2 #vampire au #lesbian au #taste your beating heart #holtzmanns

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brittledame · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Semi Eita/Reader

Tags: Teen and up audience, Post-timeskip, Canon divergence, Coffee Shops, Meet-cute, Fluff, Musician Semi, University student reader, POV changes

Word Count: 6.6K

Summary: In which a broken coffee machine leads you to meet an attractive musician also inhabiting the only coffee shop near campus open at an ungodly hour. The lack of sleep and the stress of your assignment are eased by the nonsensical tunes the unknown musician struggles to compose a significant song. Unknowingly, you both indirectly help each other through mental roadblocks and inspire him to write a hit song. It wasn't until your next fateful meeting that you were able to thank each other.

Current situation aside, you were usually a diligent student. You preferred to finish an assignment at least a full 24 hours before editing and submitting it, rather than leaving it to the last minute and handing in a half-assed attempt. However, this one particular assignment that had crawled from the bowels of hell was the exception to your characteristic conscientiousness. The assignment had blindsided you, slipping under your radar as other more pressing assignments drew your attention away from it. Much like an ignored weed problem, under your wilful neglect it compiled into an unimaginable mess. There was no possible way for you to get this done without pulling a soul-sucking all-nighter.

Another exception to your quickly spiralling out-of-control life was the fact that your prized coffee marker in all its shiny black plastic glory after five long years has finally turned in its resignation of being used and abused by you. So not only were you frantically rushing this twenty-one-page report due in not even eight hours, your one source of liquid determination is completely off the books.

Standing before the hunk of useless machinery refusing to even turn on, you stood there in silence as you mourned the loss of a good friend and an alright cup of coffee every morning. This did not help your current situation and you knew that you would not make it without some form of caffeine and you refuse to take the final dive into the uni student life and take no-doze tablets.

No, you refuse go that low just yet.

Although they are starting to sound tempting as the harsh wind tugs at your clothing and nips at your skin like you weren’t wearing two layers in the middle of normally warm Spring night to make a trip to the only local coffee shop you knew of open at this ungodly hour of 2 am. A faint orange glow grows steadily larger with each hurried step. You rushed to both get out of the wind and continue the futile act of completing your assignment to a decent enough standard to pass the subject.

The high expectations you entered the semester with had all but been eviscerated at this point. You would be outrageously thankful to pass at this stage in the semester.

As you push through the door, you crush the unwanted thought of your academic score plummeting. Oh well. Que sera, sera.

Glancing around the small and dimly lit establishment, you were surprised to note that it wasn’t deserted. In total, there were three people inside, excluding yourself. Two being workers and the other being a figure sequestered to the distant corner of the small cosy shop.

Behind the counter sat a bored-looking barista scrolling on his phone and a person with a very familiar face wiping down the benches.

“Jin! I didn’t expect to see you at this hour.” You exclaim while walking up to the counter while simultaneously fishing out your purse from your bag.

Said brunette turned at your voice, smiling when he sees that his ears didn’t deceive them.

“Hey! Didn’t expect to see you right now, either.” He grins amiably.

You had to give it to him, even at 2 am, his friendly smile put your stressed heart at ease. That was the true power of one Jin Soekawa, asides from the heavenly caffeinated ambrosia he concocted.

“Yeah, well if my coffee machine didn’t abandon me in my darkest hour, believe me when I say I’d be at home in my pajamas.”

Jin laughs as he rings your total up without question and starts the process of making your usual order. A perk of visiting at least three times a week was getting to know the friendly day baristas. Placing the exact amount of change on the counter, you move down the counter to catch Jin’s words.

“I never took you for a night-owl.” You scoff and shake you head at him, noting the teasing glint in his dark eyes.

“I’m not,” you bemoan, “this is punishment for putting off a big assessment and thinking it wouldn’t take long to finish. And to top it all off, my main source of night-late fuel ditched me.”

Jin nods sympathetically at your whining, not wanting to disturb the other regular shop patron in his also stressed-fueled all-nighter.

“No one with sense would be up at this hour working.” The angry-looking brunette you’ve never seen before mutters loudly.

Jin looks at the male, thick eyebrows furrowed reproachfully. You raise your eyebrow at Jin, wondering if he always had to burn the midnight oil with someone that looked like they were ready to quit and walk out at any second.

“Don’t mind Yunohama, he’s just pissed that he got tricked into the graveyard shift by the manager along with me.”

His cheery tone contrasted greatly to the gloom surrounding Yunohama. Smothering the laugh that wanted to come out at their polar opposite personalities, you instead turn to cough quietly into your hand.

Your gaze locked with chocolate brown irises that even at this distance, you could tell were mesmerising. The male’s eyes widen as he realises he was caught staring at you and quickly turns away and busies himself with the papers littering the table.

Well that was odd.

You stared at the back of his head full of shoulder-length ash-blond hair, waiting for him to turn back around. After a beat, you shrug to yourself and turn back to a busy Jin.

“Do you mind if I grab a seat and start on my work?” You point a thumb over your shoulder, gesturing to the seating area.

Jin nods his head and gives a cheery smile that didn’t fit the sleepy night-time atmosphere.

“Sure! I’ll bring it over when it’s done. It shouldn’t be much longer now.”

Shooting him a thumbs up, you hike the bag strap further up your shoulder and select a table to slowly lose your mind at. You end up choosing one that was about three tables away from the stranger, not wanting to intrude upon his stressed-out vibes. From the short glimpse you caught of his face, he seemed quite attractive. If you weren’t as tired or stressed as you currently were, you might have had the guts to sit closer and sneak subtle glances, but the sword of Damocles currently swung menacingly above your head.

As you walk over, you notice a dark blue Ashton-branded acoustic guitar leaning against the chair on his lap. You also notice him frantically scribbling down on paper, pausing and then staring at the paper like it insulted him. You file this in the back of your mind, saving it for a later time.

You almost felt sorry for the odd guy. If it weren’t for the burden of your laptop holding an unfinished assignment due in exactly seven hours now, you would spare some sympathy. Sighing, you plop yourself in the seat and quietly go about setting yourself up. Logging into your laptop, the not even half-filled word document met your weary gaze. God, even with the smell of coffee and warmth surrounding you, no motivation welled up like you hoped it would. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself for a long night-slash-morning.

Focused on your work, you failed to notice Jin coming over with your order, sitting it out of the way of your work with a quiet “good luck” . The cup of hot coffee was left forgotten as a decent-sounding ideas flashed through your mind unprompted. It was safe to say that by the time you did notice and started drinking it, it was lukewarm.

Grimacing after taking the first sip, you lean back in your chair and look at the ceiling to give your eyes a break. A soothing tune of random string plucking fills the air. For a brief second, you were confused as to when background music started playing, only to realise it was coming from the hot guy you caught staring at you earlier.

Attracting your attention, you glance over to his table. The guitar was now propped against his lap and lovingly cradled in his arms. The position accentuated his biceps partially concealed by white cotton V-neck tee, not that it stopped your appreciative looks. Fluorescent pink guitar pick in hand, the ash-blond musician continues to strum a few nonsensical tunes that your stress-filled mind failed to name.

As if remembering your existence, he whips his head around to meet your interested gaze. Flustered at finding you already staring at him, the male holds his hands out in a placating gesture.

“I’m so sorry! I should have asked if you were okay with me playing. I mean the baristas said it was okay but that was before you came in…” He rubs awkwardly at the back of his head.

Giving him a friendly smile, you shake your head.

“No, don't apologise. It’s fine.” You assure him. Immediately, the tension drains from his features. Man, the poor guy must have dealt with his fair share of assholes to respond so visibly at the prospect of pissing people off by playing out loud. That had to suck.

“Besides, who am I to deny the arts?” You continue, lazily waving your hand in the air.

He laughs at your unusual response, hands settling back into their designated positions on the instrument. The sound was completely unexpected. You sat there in shock as the rich-sounding rumble rolls through the air. Sure he was good-looking but damn, to have a nice deep voice on top of all that? He was truly blessed. To top it off, he gives you a smile that should be outlawed for how attractive he is.

Damn, awkward music guy was hot.

The belated thought had you flustered. Hiding behind your hand as you brush back hair out of the way, you recompose yourself. Meeting his gaze once again, you notice a twinkle that you didn’t spot before, confirming your initial suspicion of his eyes being mesmerising.

Blinking yourself out of the stupor, you inwardly scold yourself for staring at the poor dude that didn’t come here to get stared at by someone dressed in comfy clothes and a whole collection of lilac bags under their eyes.

Ignoring the questioning look you receive at your odd facial expression you unintentionally made, you turn back to your laptop and dive head-first into the report. It was a nice escape from the embarrassment that wanted to choke you at acting like you’ve never seen an attractive person before.

God your tired self was an embarrassment.

He continues on playing the guitar, now strumming out a soft lingering song that soothed your frazzled mind and weirdly energised you to keep going.

From the very moment that you stepped across the threshold, bringing with you a wisp of chilled air that nipped at his nose, Eita could pick that you were an overworked university student.

Your lilting voice filled his ears as you had a friendly chat with the amicable barista. He ignored the noise as he stared at the blank manuscript paper before him, frustration bubbling within him. This was the seventh attempt at writing the final song for their break-out album in just as many days. An invisible clock hovered over his head as the hours tick by, closer and closer to the deadline their production manager had set.

The other songs came so freely to him - serving as an outlet for the experiences he’s had or heard about from close friends and family. But this last song? It fought against him tooth and nail, refusing to be put on paper. Eita had a vague concept and a tune, but the words evaded him. That was the most frustrating part really, but it happened to the best musicians so it shouldn’t surprise him that writer’s block finally hit him like a truck on a foggy night. Hard and seemingly out of nowhere.

Eita wanted the final song on their first album to be about his last relationship, as conceited as it may sound to some. He found it was the best way to close that messy chapter of his life. It was never fun to be strung along whilst your partner was looking at - loving - another, and yet refusing to let him go. Plus, people love break-up songs and their up-and-coming band needed something to round out the alternative rock songs they usually played.

Fragmented and incomplete thoughts filled his mind as you continued chatting, now with the mean-looking barista joining in. Easily pulling his attention from the anger-inducing blank white space, Eita gets a good look at you now that you're standing closer. Wearing comfy-looking clothes and a tired expression, you looked like the poster child for the average student and yet Eita felt inexplicably drawn towards you like a magnet to its opposing pole.

Unexpectedly, you turn towards him, catching him in the act of checking you out. Eyes clear despite the tired lines etching into your face, lips pulled into a slight smile that had his heart miss a beat. Okay, wow. Maybe he’s been out of the dating scene for far too long to react like that. Breaking the eye contact, Eita whirls back around in his seat and starts messing with the papers spread before him to feign being busy.

A hot blush seared across his cheeks as he mentally groans at his inappropriate behaviour. The cute university student probably thought that he was a creep now, great. While Eita wanted to do nothing but bury his head into his hands and scream until his throat was raw, the blank page laying innocently there taunted him.

God damn it. He hadn’t felt this frustrated and inadequate since high school. No one wanted to revert to their high school selves. Scrubbing at his eyes, all Eita wanted from tonight was a simple song, that was all. Nothing more. Nothing less. Yet it still felt like a herculean task. The picture of his ex with a fake expression of hurt rises to forefront of his mind unbidden.

Ah yes, there were other times he'd experienced this intense frustration. It hurt to walk away from the first real relationship he’d been in, but she was bad for him in a lot of ways that he was blind. That was until his friends lifted the rose-tinted love goggles and pointed out each and every red flag he had missed.

Suddenly, Eita was struck with the perfect words to encompass the maelstrom of emotions within him, namely bitterness and helplessness.

Not wanting the words escape him , Eita captures them with frantic hands. Scared of their ephemeral nature, here one second and gone the next. Those few words grew into a verse, much to Eita’s elation. He still needed a chorus and an outro, but the intro was looking fine and Eita knew not to push his luck.

Reaching for his guitar and pulling a pick from his jean pocket, he gives his prized possession a quick strum. Judging it in-tune, a few warm-up melodies are played as his hands move without much thought.

Looking back at the sheet of paper sitting before him, incomplete but much better than before, he suddenly notices that the sound of your rapid typing in the background has stopped. Panicked at annoying yet another person angry at the world, Eita turns around quick enough to instill the fear of whiplash.

Met with your inquisitive look, he’s glad to see that you’re not frothing with rage like how some of the less-forgiving people get with his playing. After awkwardly apologising, he concludes you’re not mad in the slightest, instead giving him a weird response and shrugging off his disjointed apology.

There was definitely more than meets the eye with you. Even while being obviously exhausted, you were still kind to him, a stranger, while rushing to complete what he can only assume to be an assignment of some sort. From the short conversation, he couldn’t get a proper gauge for your personality, although he somehow just knew that you would have the most fascinating stories to share.

Eita fails to notice your flushed cheeks due to his laughter, instead he was admiring how your eyes wrinkled at the corners as a smile lit up your entire face. It was entirely too cute for him.

Abruptly, you turn away from him and return to your work, eyes fixed on the screen and furiously typing and clicking away across the room. Bewildered at your sudden change in mood, Eita leaves you be. Following your example, Eita turns back to his own business. There was a reason that he was in a deserted coffee shop in the dead of night, or more like morning at this point. He had work to do and a lot of it.

Despite that, he couldn’t help his eyes straying towards your figure as he strums out one of the first songs he learnt on guitar. From the corner of his eye, Eita notices at how the harsh light of your laptop highlights the exhaustion the soft lights of the shop smoothed out. Concerned at how tired your eyes looked, Eita knew that the coffee you sipped at was not doing its job to chase away the threads of tiredness that threatened to pull you under.

His examining looks go unnoticed by you, surprise, surprise. From what he overheard earlier, it’d make sense that a final assessment would take precedence over one’s self-awareness, not that he knew what that felt like. From how exhausted and slightly panicked you looked, he was glad he didn’t submit to his parents pestering, instead filing straight into the work force while he worked on his aspiring music career.

A sudden scene took his mind hostage, not letting him go until he payed it attention. Muses were odd like that, one minute he was daydreaming about his life’s choices and the next he sees you physically deflate in your chair as you hit a mental roadblock as he blows past his.

Hand possessed with words that filtered so fast through his mind, he couldn’t afford to process them as he messily tries to immortalise them onto paper before they leave him forever. Like the opening of flood gates, abstract scenes flash before his mind’s eye, constructing an intricate life for the unknown person before him and likening them to moments in his own life. You looked tired, overworked and under pressure to complete whatever you were toiling over.

Eita vaguely wonders what brought you to this coffee shop at this god forsaken hour. Was your roommate being too loud? Were you working through a bout of insomnia? Maybe you wanted to get some decent coffee while getting ahead in your course?

Whatever the reason, Eita is thankful for the pure happenstance it was for fate to place you before him. Before you showed up, exasperation was clouding his mind and creating minute tremors his hand. It was never a good mindset to have when puzzling together a significant song for both his band and his own closure.

Slowly, the disjointed verses and chords became stanzas and melodies, forming a fully-fleshed out song before his eyes in what seemed like a blink of an eye, but was most likely a few hours. Reading over the words and chords, Eita mentally sings the verses and then hums the chords out loud, checking that it flowed and it wasn’t a chaotic mess like the last iterations turned out to be.

Smiling at the fruits of his labour, Eita mentally pat himself on the back for persevering and not caving into his band mate’s insistent offers of assistance. They were all versatile in this industry and each had multiple roles within their rag-tag group. The least Eita could do was offer to compose the songs for them to play. Writing them was also a good outlet, he found. Since high school, he’d composed a few short jams, not that they would ever see the light if he could help it.

Pushing his joy back to regain focus, his eyes flit over to your hunched over figure. Even after all the hours that have passed, your fingers still tirelessly flew across your keyboard before pausing and correcting a few spelling and grammar mistakes as you go. Sending you a telepathic “good luck”, Eita once again picks up the instrument with the intent of playing what hopefully will be the final version of this song.

Now knowing that you wouldn’t mind his playing, he went ahead without holding back. Eyes following along with the keys written down, fingers plucking and strumming away at the strings. The notes blend together and softly swells and peaks with each repetition of the chorus. While he knew that you didn’t mind his playing, he didn’t want to distract you, so he mouthed the lyrics as he played.

The last chord hung in the air before fading into nothing. There were a few places that could use a few alterations, either a change in pitch or pace, but all in all it was a decent song accounting for the fact that it was written in less than a night. Now all it needed was a name.

Coming up with an appropriate name was always the hardest part of the process, Eita thought. Typically, if an artist wanted their song to be found easily, it was best to name it after the chorus. Scanning over verses and chorus, he pauses over the words ‘honey go home’.

Eita didn’t even have to turn around to know that you were running on fumes. If he had the confidence to strike up a proper conversation, he knew he would voice this sentiment to you. Pushing aside the thought, he writes the potential name in the top margin with a query next to it.

The song itself needed approval by the rest of the group and by their production manager, but he was overall very proud at completing it under the pressure of a dreadfully close deadline and the absence of a muse. That was, until you walked in.

Without even realising it, you served as the catalyst to the intense emotions that Eita felt in that futile relationship.

That wasn't to say that you reminded him of her. From what he could tell, you weren’t like his ex in the slightest. In fact, he was tempted to say from your short interaction and mannerisms that you were the polar opposite to the stiff and stand-offish demeanour his ex possessed. Still, you somehow triggered a part of him that he’d been unknowingly out of touch with since his break up. it was freeing in a sense, a weight lifted off his shoulders.

Calling it a night, Eita begins to pack up his mess of papers and stack dirty coffee mugs. Organising the sheet music into neat piles, he tucked the newly composed song in a sleeve separate to the half-baked songs written earlier on in the night. Throwing the folder and other miscellaneous items into his tote, he briefly wonders about when would be an appropriate time to message the team and notify them of his success. Checking his phone, Eita was not surprised to see that he stayed up so late from how groggy he felt. It definitely feels like almost six in the morning.

Tucking his phone away in his pocket, he grabs the bag and slings his guitar strap over his shoulder. Without even realising it, Eita looks back over to your table. Still in the exact same position, now with a half-empty cup of coffee cooling by your elbow as your emptily stare drills into the word document before you click something and fix whatever mistake you could find. From your unhurried pace, Eita assumed you were in the editing phase of the assignment, close to the end.

He was tempted to walk over to your table, to both say thanks and to get your name. You didn’t know how thankful he was of your presence obliterating his two-week long writer’s block and he wanted to make you aware of it. If he just so happens to offer to thank you over a drink or dinner and you accept, then that'd be a bonus of getting to know you.

As Eita walks towards the exit, he still tosses up whether to approach you or not. As he nears, you sigh heavily and message your temples, signalling that maybe you weren’t in the best of moods to make friendly conversation. That’s alright, Eita thinks as he bypasses your table at the last second. He really didn’t want to be the cause of breaking your focus, especially when you looked so done with life right now.

Like a fool, Eita lets the opportunity slip trough his fingers. Sparing you once last look over his shoulder, he pushes the door open and leaves the shop just as the sun kisses the horizon with her golden rays.

As he makes his way home, in the back of his mind he hopes that you get to go home soon to get some well-deserved rest.

Watching the monster document upload slowly on the café’s slow wifi was torture in and of itself. Sipping the last dredges of the cold coffee, you stare unblinkingly at the loading bar, hoping that it wouldn’t pop up with an error and terminate the upload. If that happened, you were going to scream. And maybe break something. You’re sure Jin wouldn’t mind so much. He knew you would pay for whatever damages you caused in your hysteria.

A small green notification confirms the upload and gives a receipt of your submission. The time stamp was enough for a cold sweat to break out along your skin. Ten minutes longer and it would’ve been late and you would've receive a big fat zero for it. The professor was an asshole to have that stipulation, but you were well and truly too exhausted to be angry at this point.

Shutting down the device, you recline back in the chair and swivel your neck that was stiff from holding it in a weird position for hours on end. God, your whole body was aching from unconsciously holding tension for the entire night.

The faint sunlight filtering through the windows suggest that it was time to pack up and get some much-needed sleep before your class today. Mid-day classes were the best, you cheered. Thankfully you’d be able to get at least a few hours before having to survive the rest of the day. You still had other assignments and module quizzes after all.

After neatly placing all your stuff away, you turn to seek out the attractive musician. At the sight of the empty chair he once inhabited, your heart sinks. You hadn’t even seen him leave, too wrapped up in rushing to submit before the rapidly approaching deadline.

Dismayed at the musician’s absence, you crush the unwarranted thought of being lonelier than you thought to fall for a stranger after a short conversation. If it could even be called a conversation since it was mostly him apologising.

Sighing out loud, you grab your bag and wave at Jin as you stand.

“Thanks for the coffee. You’re a miracle worker I swear.” Your compliment made him smile as he continued to sweep behind the counter.

“Good to hear that you enjoyed my coffee even though they were probably cold when you drank them.”

You chuckle at that and give a good bye as you leave the shop. The trip home was a blur in your mind. You were asleep before your head hit the pillow. As blissful unconsciousness enveloped you, the image of the ash-blond musician pops in your mind.

Eita was torn between cursing ever meeting you or thanking every god that existed. No that was a lie. He definitely didn’t regret meeting you. What he did regret was telling his prying room mate about the unexpected form his muse appeared as, after being asked how he pumped out a song so quickly.

Satori had a field day about his incompetence in asking for a someone's name.

“You have the looks and charisma of a modern day Adonis and yet you are the most awkward person I know when it comes to flirting.”

Eita had no grounds to defend himself. He knew he was hopeless when it came to dating. That was probably why he stayed so long in his last one, knowing how hard it is to put himself back on the dating scene.

“Yeah. I know.” He replied, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. It did nothing to alleviate the headache he felt coming on.

“Have you tried going back there to meet them again?” Satori looked at him questioningly while upside down from where he had his head thrown over the back of the lounge.

Yeah, Eita has tried going back there. All at varying times that he was out and about and had succumbed to the urge to go back there and see if maybe you were there. On his tenth visit there, he was sorely tempted to ask the barista with the thick eyebrows that you spoke to on that fateful night for your name. Common sense was quick to convince him out of that idea, he really didn’t want to come across as a creep.

Satori didn’t have to know all of that, though, so he stayed vague with his answer.

“Yeah I have, but they weren’t there.”

“Well,” Satori dragged the word out for longer then necessary and Eita felt his eyebrow tick in irritation. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Like Romeo and Juliet but with less death.”

Shaking his head at the analogy, Eita silently agrees with the flamboyant red-head. Maybe meeting you once was enough of a miracle that he should be thankful for and just accept his star-crossed meeting with you.

Still, he had a lot to thank you for. You served as a catalyst for became the most popular song in their first album, 'Honey Go Home' shooting up in the charts every passing day. Since then, they’ve been booking gigs left and right. Not that you ever knew it, nor would you ever since he hadn’t seen you since that fateful night.

A text from their manager pulls him out of the bittersweet reverie, notifying him of an impromptu meeting to cover the packed schedule for the next month. Running a hand through his hair, he contemplates if he had enough time to get dressed and grab something to eat along the way.

Judging that he could, but it’d be a tight fit, Eita shoots off into his room to chuck on random articles of clothing before heading out. He hears Satori snort at his outfit combination and ignores it in favour of beating the lunch-time rush.

By the time he makes it into the business district, Semi had a handful of minutes to spare to grab lunch before what he assumes is going to be a long meeting. Spotting a takoyaki stall not far from him, he was soon waiting in line with others that were won over by the delicious savoury smells permeating from the stall.

The order turnover was pretty quick, still he eyed the time on his phone’s home screen with worry. His band mates wouldn’t let himself live it down, hell he himself wouldn’t let it go. No one wanted to be that guy holding everyone up from going home to their lives. Generally, they all got along like a house on fire but with their recent schedule, it was hard not to want to spend lost time with friends and family.

Hearing his order called out, he rushed to collect the bag. There was no time to eat it now, so he’s have to eat during it, which wasn’t the worse thing to ever happen. Picking up his pace whilst answering a text, he doesn’t see the person he ends up crashing into, too wrapped up in his own thoughts.

They gasp as he slams against their back and start to tilt forward before he reaches out and pulls them by their shoulder to get back their footing.

“Sorry! Are you okay?” His eyes sweep down the person’s body, ensuring he caused no physical damage. As the person turned around to face him, Eita met the face he'd least expected to see. Taken aback, Eita stared at you in shock as you mimicked him.

It was a humorous twist of fate that he would quite literally come crashing back into your life, after trying to find you for entire week.

It took you a moment to recognise him, trying to place his face to someone you met while his eyes roam your face. Once you do remember, you flushed at the close proximity of your bodies, his hand still clasped on your shoulder.

You both stared at one another as the world passes by, unknowing of the second fortuitous second meeting of the pair. Shock was the predominant emotion reigning inside of Eita, followed by gratefulness.

He suffered a full week of teasing from Satori and his band for acting like a hapless fool in love with some nameless person. There was no way in hell he was going to let you slip through his fingers again without at least getting a name.

“Hey, I know this sounds weird, but can I ask for your name?” He cursed the way his voice cracked at the greeting, wanting to scream at how awkward he was being again.

For whatever reason, it seemed that you were charmed by his latent charisma trumping his stiff question and you respond with your name. Testing it, he says it back to you and you respond with a nod at his pronunciation.

“What’s yours? I can’t keep calling you hot music guy.” You query in kind.

A light blush covers his cheeks at the compliment. He knew he looked good, people never failed to remind him, but it was always an ego boost when someone that made his heart flutter gave a compliment.

“I’m Semi Eita.”

He realises he was still holding your shoulder as they jump up as you silently laugh at his adorable blush. As if you burned him, he snatches away his hand as the blush intensifies. Eita was sure his face was bright red now.

“Well, hi Semi. I’m glad I got to meet you again. I wanted to thank you for playing that night, it really pushed me to keep working.” You glance off to the side, not meeting his surprised expression.

A soft, warm feeling fills him at your words. The power music possessed was a mysterious thing. To know that his playing had such an effect on you was incredible. It was extremely flattering.

“That's funny, because I actually wanted to thank you.” The words pour out of his mouth before his brain could catch up.

A curious look lights up your face and urges him to continue.

“In a round-about way, you inspired me –“ The shrill ring tone of his phone cut off his explanation.

Giving you an apologetic look, he looks at the screen and grimaces when he sees the contact name of his manager paired with the time. He was late already, so what was a few more minutes? He might as well shoot his shot, Eita concludes as he denies the call and meets your beautiful gaze.

Under the sunlight in light clothing for the warm spring-time weather, you looked stunning. The lack of tired lines etching your face and eye-bags soothes his heart, knowing that you got some decent sleep last night. It was weird how he barely knew you and yet he wanted to know if you got some sleep. Eita barely knew you and he craved being able to take care of you on those long nights when you were unable to do so yourself.

“Was that important?” You tilt your head at him and Eita had to refrain himself from visibly showing how much the cute action affected him.

“Ah, yeah, it kind of was,” Came his stilted reply. You bit at your cheek as Eita wanted to bang his head against a wall. What was it with him losing his cool with you around? Usually he was pretty good with small talk, or so he was told. His phone starts ringing again in his hand and he doesn't even bother to look at it.

Time had run out, it was now or never.

“Can I have your number? I’d really like to thank you when I’m not being rushed.” The words rushed out of him in a single breath, the split second of courage proving to be his downfall. As he regained that breath, he realised how fast he spoke. It was highly likely that you might’ve not caught them. Okay, now he was ready to bury himself alive.

R.I.P. Semi Eita.

Cause of death: trying and failing to ask for your number.

You stared at him blankly, mind taking a moment to process the word vomit, unknowingly watching him as he has an internal melt-down. His question suddenly hits you and it takes everything in you to not blush at the thought of a kind and talented musician asking for your number.

“Oh! You want my number?” You ask, pulling out your phone and pointing at it in question.

Relief sweeps away the embarrassment that threatened to surpass all logic and just leg it away from you and forget about ever meeting you entirely.

Not trusting himself, Eita nods. Pulling up a new contact and handing over his phone, you wordlessly do the same. Standing there filling out contact details, his accomplishment didn’t strike him until he thanked you and promised to text you soon after you urged him to get where he was needed.

While it wasn’t exactly the way he envisioned your first proper conversation to go, it did end with your name, number and a promise of a future meet-up. It was hard to keep the grin off of his face as he enters the room filed with unimpressed people. Once he explained his tardiness, the mood turned on its head as they gave him encouraging pats on the back and a few hair-ruffles that he batted away.

The entire time he sat there, his phone felt like a lead weight in his pocket. It took all his self-restraint to not text you right then and there.

In the end, it turned out you were the one to send the first text. If anyone saw the way he reacted to receiving that text as he walked out the building, he would refute any and all claims of him lighting up like a Christmas tree until the day he died.

Unlike asking for your number, it took a while for him to gather the courage to ask you out after a few easy-flowing conversations. With your enthusiastic response, he felt on top of the world.

Eita never made a habit of looking back at the past, arguing there was nothing one could possibly gain from doing so. Although, after the short few months since meeting and consequently dating you, he found himself often looking back to that quite night in the dimly-lit coffee shop. By all means, that stress-filled night should not have lead to him finding his other half. But as Eita had come to learn, even the mundane becomes extraordinary with you by his side.

Notes: I wrote this in a night and had to stop myself from posting it without editing because I have no self-restraint sometimes. Critiques, Comments & Notes are always welcomed!

#semi eita x reader #semi eita #reader-insert #fluff #meet-cute #haikyu!!#Haikyuu!!#haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu!! fic #haikyu!! reader insert #shiratorizawa #I couldn't turn away the idea of running into him in a coffee shop #musician!semi #canon divergence

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probably-voldemort · 4 years

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Happy BFSN Finale!

It’s been approximately 600 years since I’ve done one of these oops. But I’m back!

The pics are of some orcas I saw while whale watching a couple weeks ago. It was super cool. We saw two orca pods, a bunch of humpbacks, and lots of seals and sea lions.

I started my teaching program! Which means I’m officially one month closer to being a teacher which is super exciting. Everything being online kind of sucks but generally everything’s going pretty good there. I’ve got a presentation in like two hours though. Ugh. Wish me luck!

I’d also like to give a shout out to any of my British Columbia followers. Make sure you get out there on Oct 24 and vote NDP. Calling an early election in the middle of a pandemic wasn’t the greatest idea Horgan could’ve had, but if we let the Liberals get back in, Wilkinson is gonna cut PST for a year, yeah, but he’s also gonna bring back and raise student loan interest, which is terrible since we just got that eliminated and freaking Nova Scotia managed to get their student loan debt eliminated completely, which is the direction we should be heading. Greens are usually kinda sketchy on non-environmental issues (I haven’t heard any of her promises yet, I don’t think, but that’s usually how they tend to go), and Conservatives are just an obvious no no. So go out and vote NDP, please!

A new chapter of darling went up a couple weeks ago if you haven’t read it yet! The next one is like half written and I’m hoping to get it up soon. Depends on uni though and how much homework I have.

And the show. I can’t believe that it’s ending. I can’t believe what a shit show the last few episodes have turned into. I can’t believe it looks like Murphy and Emori are going to survive the series. I probably won’t be watching tonight because my siblings are a couple episodes behind, so no spoilers until after I’ve watched it tomorrow.

This fandom has been amazing, and you guys are fantastic. I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon (darling still has like 30+ chapters to go so you’ve got me at least until I finish that), so feel free to stick around for more Clurphy and random life stories.

Honestly still not entirely convinced the last few episodes haven’t been Clarke in the simulation machine. Based on tweets and stuff, it doesn’t seem particularly likely, but as a writer its one of the few scenarios that would make any of this make at least a little sense, so my brain is still refusing to let that theory go until it’s proven otherwise.

Here’s hoping the finale isn’t as terrible as it could be!

Tagging/Tagged:

@thelittlefanpire @pawprinterfanfic @talistheintrovert @eyessharpweaponshot @clarkesbells99 @little-oxford-st @kindclaws @braveprincess @johnmurphysass @bvrnes-bucky @commandermadi @sarahin @moonshoesreyes @paintingbellarke @the-griffin-green-blakes @the-most-beautiful-broom @shaeheda @historyofbellarke @captaindaddykru @justbecauseyoubelievesomething @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold @animmortalist

#bfsn #bellarke fam selfie night

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lavenderbexlatte · 3 years

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fic writer tag~

tagged by the wonderful @sleepylixie and @aliceu

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?

a lot of anime ones 🤣 and a ton of classic ones (i was a superwholock, guys-). miraculous ladybug was my last big main fandom before kpop, though!

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for?

kpop :D stray kids, nct, itzy, mamamoo, bts, got7...so many. pretty much any kpop group or idol that i’m into, i’ll write for! and my requests are always open 👀

3. how long have you been writing?

i started posting fanfic in 2010, but i’ve been writing my whole life. the first full story i remember, i was...8? so 16, 17 years.

4. on which platforms do you post your stories?

ao3 and tumblr! but i was an og fanfic/net user, and i’ve used livejournal, twitter, pretty much everything...

5. what is your favorite genre to write?

slice of life! i just want to tell simple stories, things that we all feel. people who do their best. events that we can all understand.

6. are you a pantser or a planner?

pantser, 100%. i have never fully planned a story in my life.

7. one-shot or multi-chapter?

oneshot. i love a multichap but i prefer not being restrained by the obligation to keep going 😅 i’m really inconsistent-

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?

there’s no perfect amount - however many words get the story across is the right amount. i usually write 7-10k per chapter, but that’s only recently! i used to write way less, i’ve been working on getting more words in per release.

9. what is your longest published story?

i have an NCT/SM Entertainment WIP called The Lotus Effect on my ao3 that’s about 75k? on tumblr, my longest fic is holding you like this (14k) and the more & more series as a whole is nearly 60k, so far 🤔

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?

holding you like this! i know that i’m best known for more & more, but this fic is my best skz work so far. maybe my best work of all.

11. favorite request you’ve written and why?

ball & chain! that fic was just an idea tossed around on the tl ages ago, but it has some of my fave nsfw themes in it~

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories?

there are some, i think. found family, difficult relationships with parents, college/uni settings, miscommunication as a plot device, no straight characters ever. i love characters who are just good people who make mistakes. i like happy endings.

13. current number of wips?

um...four? five? i don’t actually usually have a lot of ideas going at once!

14. three things you have noticed about your writing?

my use of commas and fragments is RIDICULOUS. i repeat sentiments a lot, for emphasis, and i have no idea if it’s annoying to read. and i write banter/comedic dialogue better than anyone i know 😌

15. a quote you like from a published story?

i’m cheating here’s two:

He smiles at you like nothing’s changed. Has anything changed? (from without a word)

and

“You’re changing the subject,” Hyuck chastises, “But to answer your question, Renjun slide-tackled me into a vending machine in the social science building, so he’s on time-out. And Lia got a girlfriend.”

“Tragic.” (from sweet tooth)

16. a quote from an unpublished story?

“Look, I know you fucking hate him or whatever, but he’s important to me. I though you understood that,” Changbin says, impatient and sharp. “He’s been really fucking messed up since graduation, and I’m worried.”

hmmm wonder what this is from 👀👀👀👀

17. space for you to say something to your readers~~

my lil coffee beans 🥺 no clue why you’re all here but i fucking love you, please enjoy my bullshit forever

tagging: christ on high, you guys know i suck at this...if you write, please give it a go! and tag me so i can see 👀

#tag games

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derenger · 3 years

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Growing up, parenting and gaming - Longread on life, computer games and finding yourself

This longread is dedicated to and written for all those current and former kids, who had or have troubles growing up, taking decisions, finding themselves in the world they live in, who play games independently of age and – perhaps – have not lost their love for a good game, good times and good buddies.

Perhaps it will help someone in their life. If that happens – I shall think of this writing as useful and my time writing it as not completely wasted.

The ideas have been on my mind for over 2 years now (they started getting very clear when I started doing therapy) and I have to put them on paper now.

Here it goes.

I grew up in the 90s in Eastern Europe. After the USSR collapsed millions of people found themselves without work, perspectives and means of existence. We were lucky that my dad had a good job that was paid in hard currency, however he was barely home – and by that I mean like seeing him 2 or 3 times a month.

We had good living conditions compared to others and my mom did the best she could too take care of my younger bro and me.

The first time we were exposed to computer games was when I was like 7 and my bro was 5 – in the office where the boyfriend of our aunt has been working. We played Dangerous Dave, Scorched Earth, Socoban, Digger, Civilization, The Incredible Machine and some others I do not recall the names. And of course, we liked it and it did not take long for our dad to install them on his PC at home. 2 years later my best buddy got Doom 2 installed on his PC and that was the absolute blast. We spent weeks trying to figure out how to get through level 2 and it was a big holiday when our buddy finally did.

My dad tried to restrict TV and computer time per week, so we always opted for the PC. Over time I learned to turn it on by myself and play when there was no one at home. My dad did not know.

A couple of our friends had 8bit consoles - soviet bootlegs of Super Nintendoes, with TMNT and Chip n Dale, but that was probably it. After all, we were living in a small village with not that many possibilities to make money.

When I was 10 we moved to a bigger city into a 1 room apartment. All 4 of us. This was 1996. 2 other very important things:

We started going to a far bigger school than before, where the mood was totally different from what we were used to. We were bullied and beaten, could not get along with other pupils and teachers and no one actually cared.

Father was home every day.

I mean, father was present home every day. It is not like he spent time with us doing sports or whatever. He just had any idea what to do with us as this was his first long time exposure to kids in the 11 years we were a family.

He was more of an authoritarian guy – we were not supposed to waste time in gaming clubs, listen to stupid music (Prodigy, Beastie Boys), we should have studied well, read books, have been doing sports and in general act like good kids.

We were doing some martial arts sports cause mom brought us there. We were taking music classes cause “everyone has to”. We were supposed to help out at home. We were not supposed to hang out with “bad” kid or stay outside till late hours. We were not supposed to smoke, swear and simulate illness to miss classes. We were not supposed to get into trouble.

It is not like we were putting a lot of thought into it. We just moved to the city from rural area and frankly speaking were absolutely not happy about. I guess we just went with the flow.

This was also the time when the first “gaming spot” in town opened – they had 2 Sega Mega Drives II and 1 Sony PlayStation. MK3, MK3 Ultimate, Contra Hard Cops, Golden Axe, some samurai fighting games for the Sega. SPS – Red Alert, Twisted Metal, Duke Nukem, Doom and of course – an incredible breakthrough for its time – Quake 2. And that was a revelation. I recall mom giving us money from time to time. To go play. Sega cost like 1 buck and hour, SPS – 1,5 bucks – far more expensive, so we played mainly on Sega.

At the same time we did have some games at home – Doom, Power Formula 1, Lines, the same Civilization, Lion King, Alladin, Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis, Gods and Dune 2000. Dad did not want to allow us play games. Like, at all. Don’t ask me why he never deleted the games. The PC was mainly used for him to work. So when he left home, he took the power cable of the monitor and closed it in his spare suitcase. What we did was to unplug the cable from the printer and use for the monitor. Later on he hid both cables – from the monitor and the PC in the suitcase. I found a way to open the suitcase with a very fine flat screwdriver. Mom hid the fact from our dad for a while until he noticed the suitcase was “broken”. I believe they did not speak with each other for a week. But I am still proud of the fact of cracking that suitcase! Fuck yeah!

Things started getting worse when I transferred to a lyceum - 1998. I was 12. This was like a gymnasium for hardcore science-kids, where they went deep into math and natural sciences. I was hysterical the first 2 years as I was barely making the program. Even my dad had troubles solving the math they gave us. Music classes turned to shits. I had no time nor mood for sport. But I had to keep doing it all. Just because. There were a couple of bullies in class, whose parents bribed the management of the school so that their kids would have fancy graduation papers at the end and frankly speaking no one could get a grip on them. That had me very depressed.

Around 13 I started stealing money from my parents and missing classes to go to computer clubs – their number was getting bigger every week, consoles started to disappear. Half Life, CS 1.6, Age of Empires 2, Q3, D2 1.07, Black and White, SimCity 2000, NOX, StarCraft Brood War and many other games had our full attention. The biggest part of it was the fact you could play with or against your friends! That was so fucking awesome! At the same time I started discovering sci-fi and rock music, but that is a different story.

We stole a lot of money from our parents in those times and missed a lot of classes and of course after 3 or 4 months it all got revealed. Boy oh boy our dad smoked us. That was very very tough for a kid when all the things he actually liked were taken from him. Dark times when we were seriously asking ourselves what the hell our parents wanted from us as aside from the stuff they told us to do they never really told us what was it for. Everything else was useless, stupid or waste of time.

Somehow my marks at school got better closer to graduation and I graduated almost with a medal, went to university. I remember they had this PC club with like 200 PCs and from time to time we skipped one or the other lecture to play Starcraft or CS, but very quickly boozing with buddies became the major leisure activity and pushed gaming to the back. I did pretty well at the university, made my master with excellence and that was it – 6 years flew by in a blink of an eye.

I got my own PC during the first year at the uni, played a bit of Warcraft 3, HOMM 3, Quake 3, Lineage II but it was not like I was deep into that. I remember after defending my master I spent like 3 days playing Crysis without anyone saying a word. I mean, I was through with the university. I was free!

Soon after that I went on to work abroad as a project engineer in the chemical industry.

At the moment I am doing sales engineer for a good salary in Berlin, I am married and except for the Corona and all the restrictions it brought life seems ok.

During the last 10 years of my “adult” life I have been in many different situations. I have been very sick a couple of times, running on the edge of life and death. I have been in some useless relations that only drained energy and nerves from me. I also have been diagnosed with depression and burnout at some point, did therapy and consider myself fully recovered from both. I’ll be summarizing it all below.

When I look at my life it did occur to me that gaming was far more important than just the sheer desire to shoot buddies and skip school.

Growing up under the conditions where everything is predetermined one does not really get the chance to expose your own wish. After all, my parents both come from very unhappy families and did not have the exactly best examples of parenting.

It occurred to me that they never really cared about anything we achieved – whether in school, music or sports. I recall a couple of times when I did really good, like winning the City-contest in English language or getting my first “good” in algebra in 7th grade as that shit was extremely tough. I do not recall any reaction. In fact, mom and dad put their close attention to us only when things started getting really bad, like when we were skipping classes or got arrested for setting up fireworks in a crowded place. We never really got any positive feedback for anything we did because our parents just had no idea how to do that. I do not blame them – they were trying their best from their own experience.

And gaming was the absolute opposite to all of that.

Going to computer clubs we knew exactly that we were surrounded by like-minded lads. We made some good friends along the way – lads, who were always ready to jam on de_dust or bring their D2 chars to share some loot. One of the owners of the club had a daughter who was really good in Q3 – I remember everyone has been looking at her like she was some sort of demigod. The games gave us the space and playground we needed so much – clear even rules for everyone. If you frag – you win. If you don’t – you lose. If you suck – the older guys would always help with a couple of tips. Games also gave us control. I really liked the games where you went on an adventure, like NOX or Will Rock or serious Sam. Gaming also gave us the space to take our own decisions and suffer the full consequences if these were wrong – getting overrun by zerglings or getting fragged with rocket launcher with QUAD DAMAGE.

Gaming clubs were our safe space. At some point our dad did raid the computer clubs and did bust us a couple of times. Sure we got beaten on those occasions.

I recall my bro being very proud on getting 1st in the national 2v2 ladder in SC:BW later in the uni. He also used to game the whole night long at my parents place. This was over 10 years ago and they still do not know. He is still very good in SC though he does not play anymore.

I do play sometimes – currently grinding D2 and refreshing my knowledge in chess. I do not have more time for any other more or less serious game.

I am slowly approaching the point where I should write a conclusion – it is going to be quite simple. Gaming was the first opportunity to take my life into my own hands. It took me 32 years of my own life to find the power in me to take responsibility for myself and not to rely on someone else. My decision – my choice – my consequences. It took a lot of trouble and turmoil for me to get to this point and finally embracing the power within feels great. It was also the first surrounding of dudes just like me, which was a very good feeling back then.

During the last 6 months I switched to a job that pays almost the double of my previous one, my wife moved in with me from abroad, we have a nice apartment and are looking forward to vacations in the Alps. I still have to find a way to approach my parents though I am not sure the old hive is worth disturbing. I guess time will tell.

Whenever I am down or things do no go according to play – I do turn to gaming occasionally, just to get back into the world where I am in full control. It gives me power and I guess hope that everything will work out. If not now – then over time. You just have to keep practicing. And ask for help when it is needed.

I hope you found this read interesting.

#life #gaming #adulthood #friends

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larougie · 4 years

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caffeine stains and library books

genre: college/coffee shop au

pairing(s): bang chan

word count: 3.2k

description: With college kicking your ass, what exactly are you meant to do, when you spill that fifth cup of coffee over that very. Very. Expensive textbook. Apparently he didn’t have any good ideas either.

Finals were going to be the death of you.

You were seriously considering the option of dropping out and just working in a supermarket for the rest of your life, and it had gotten to the point where breaking into the office for the test answers wasn't seeming like such a bad idea. You'd been renting a tiny studio apartment for the last two years, but the limited floor space was currently overtaken by piles and piles of notebooks and loose sheets of paper with rushed notes scribbled over them. Your old textbooks with folder corners and bashed ends were all stacked against the wall in a corner beside your bed, and you only took one out from the pile at a time. Those books were worth more than your life at this point, and you swore to yourself that you’d never lose them. But currently, the one book you were poring over wasn’t even yours.

Eventually, you knew that the rent payments and college fees would catch up with you - especially considering your current lack of employment - but you had hoped that your bank account would hold out until after the final exams and until you could go job hunting in the summer break. As fate would have it, it was a little bitch, and you had no such luck. You had a few options before you had to start selling kidneys, but none of them seemed appealing and you simply just did not possess enough hours in the day. Of course, there was always one major expense on your debit card every month, but you weren't sure if you were ready to give that one up.

Turns out, you were perfectly content to use textbooks borrowed from the library and return them after the exams, as long as it meant that you didn’t have to stop going to the little cute coffee shop a few minutes off campus. You spent most days frequenting that cafe, sitting in the corner with your old laptop and the borrowed books, sipping on a coffee way too hot for your taste buds. Now, when you had called your best friend, asking for advice on what to do because you were about to lose your apartment, he had, of course offered the logical solution of - Stop spending so much money on coffee.

But you had a dilemma.

See, you told Minho that you studied in the corner of the cafe because the atmosphere was calm, it helped you focus, and to not buy a coffee would be incredibly rude, but he knows you very well. Too well, actually, it's quite terrifying sometimes. You definitely weren't going to the coffee shop to stare at the cute barista who had been working there for the past few months, that was definitely not why you were spending extra, unnecessary money on coffee. Or, that's what you tried to convince Minho of at least.

It wasn't a one sided infatuation though, and that was your saving grace in this situation. You'd been dropping into this specific cafe for about a year now, after trying all around the campus to find a decent cup of coffee that wasn't overloaded with sugar. Even before the barista boy had added himself into the mix, you knew that this was going to become a regular addiction, and his addition to the staff only cemented that fact. You really wish you had the guts to ask his name, because he already knows yours. However the universe worked, he always seemed to be working when you came in at random hours of the day, and he always seemed happy to take your order at the register. Give it a few weeks, and as soon as you entered the cafe through the small door, he was ringing up your coffee on the machines behind him. You were his “regular”, as the other staff members liked to tease him.

Sometimes, when the cafe quiets down in the later hours of the evening, he’ll still be working and you’ll still be typing up that essay that was due in a few hours. He’ll put on some music from his phone, and put it into a small glass to amplify the sound so you could hear it. The first time he’d done it, he’d been constantly checking back at you to see if the volume was annoying you or if you were looking at him. To be honest, at first the music did distract you a little bit, but you were too enamoured with the way the boy danced quietly to the music as he cleaned down the tables to ask him to turn it off.

Soon enough, most of the songs he played you had made their way onto your study playlist. You put your earbuds in and listened to the music as you studied in the cafe, and when the barista turned on his own playlist - only then would you remove them. He’d always catch you staring at him as the cafe began to empty, the unspoken question of “are you going to put your music on soon?”

You’d always turn bright red when he caught you staring, and look away so fast it should have given you whiplash. You figured that he never approached you about it because it was too awkward of a topic and you had made him feel too uncomfortable. The truth was, he did want to talk to you, but he had neither a reason nor the confidence to stroll up and strike a conversation. He had noticed that one of the textbooks you often dragged with you to the corner looked oddly familiar, but he guessed it was because he had taken that class as a junior last year, and shoved the thought to the back of his mind.

You were five or six cups of pure caffeine into the study session, and before you looked up you already could tell it was getting too dark for three pm. As you lifted your eyes from the screen in front of you for the first time in a while, and rolled your head back onto your shoulders, your wandering eyes caught sight of the time displayed on your laptop. Oh. Oh. The cafe is closed now. Had been for about twenty minutes. You turned your head quickly around the shop, looking for people and found no one. You wondered why no member of staff had come up to you yet asking you to kindly leave the building, but they all seemed to be preoccupied behind the kitchen doors. Seeing an ideal time for an unnoticed escape, you packed up all your things in record time, shoving them haphazardly into your bag and bolted out that door. The chime might have alerted the staff to someone leaving, but by the time anyone had made it to the front counter to see the door - you were long gone.

Pulling an all nighter was never a fun proposition, but you undertook the task more often than you’d like to admit. See, your reasoning behind that was Procrastination was key to a passing grade, and, yes, so far that certain theory hasn't failed you, but it was definitely taking a toll on your mental health. But, you dug your own grave, time to lie in it.

You take it back, you hate this. It's four am. What's the treble clef. Tchaikovsky is that you. All the notes are one big long line. Minho send assistance.

Its official, university is going to kill you and tonight is the night you finally keel over. Rubbing your eyes you roll back the chair you've been curled up in and lift your arms to stretch over your head-

Your hand hit something. Probably a pencil. Or that water bottle. You lifted one eyelid slowly, peering at the offending object. Oh the coffee mug, yeah that makes sense you don't drink water. The coffee mug that was now slowly pouring the cold brown liquid over the textbook that was open at the top of your desk. The textbook that you couldn’t afford to buy yourself because you were a broke college student and rent and living expenses took priority.

It took a moment to register.

Oh no. oh christ, you had to return this back to the library in a few days - you couldn’t pay another late fee! The lady at the library desk really didn't like you, and always seemed to go out of her way to make you pay the full fee, despite you showing her your student ID multiple times. It was probably because you never returned books on time, but that was beside the point, isn't she meant to be understanding? You were a uni student for crying out loud, the stress.

The point was, you had now completely destroyed a very, very expensive textbook that you didn’t have the money to replace - the words were bleeding into each other and slowly becoming illegible right before your eyes. The librarian was going to hang your head from the archway. You re-iterate, college was going to kill you. Just maybe, not in the way you expected.

Picking up the phone, you frantically press on the first contact you see.

“Minho?”

“Sup dumbass.”

“I’d bitch at you, but it's fitting for the situation, help me. Please.”

“... Who’s dead.”

“NO ONE’S DEAD I JUST- murdered a very expensive textbook that I don’t have the money to replace, and the librarian is signing my death warrant.”

Minho sucked in a breath from the other end of the phone. “Eesh y/n, you sure it wasn’t one of those loan-on-loan books from the last shelf?”

You press the phone between your shoulder and your ear, snagging the paper between your fingers and pulling the hard-bound book towards yourself. You pushed the pens and pencils out of your way and sent them scattering onto the floor in your haste, and flipped to the back of the cover to see the words On Student Loan.

“About that,” you mumbled, crumpling your head into your hands as the phone clattered to the desk beside you. You could hear Minho laughing on the other end, and you huffed to yourself. “I called you to give me advice, you horrible person, not to lauGH at my misery.”

“Okay okay I,” Minho tried to catch his breath, coughing slightly, “It's not the end of the world, is it? It's a Library book. Explain it to the lady at the desk, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Sure, Min. Thanks.”

“No problem, babes.”

“Ew no.”

“Whatever babes.”

You hung up the phone with a sigh, and let your head hit the desk again, before yelping as the wood left a red mark on your skin. It couldn’t have been just a normal library book? The universe has to hate you right now? No, instead it had to be one of those stupid textbooks that seniors lent to the library from past courses for the younger years to borrow. It was someone else’s book. That they had bought and studied from, and were expecting to get back from the library once the year was over. In the top corner of the stamp, the senior’s name who gave it to the library was printed - Bang Chan.

That was familiar, wasn’t it? You had heard that name being called out around somewhere, by a group of boys. You rattled your brain around, trying to think where you had heard that name before - you knew it sounded like you’d heard it before. In your lectures, on the roll? No, he was a senior and he wouldn’t be in any of your classes. Around on campus wouldn’t make any sense, you walked around with music on all the time, you couldn’t hear when people called your own name out, let alone anyone else’s.

In the? Cafe? Possible. Very possible. Well, it's worth a shot, he could be a friend of someone who works there.

What you planned to do once you had found this Bang Chan is beyond you, but you had a general idea of apologizing profusely, attempting to stutter out an explanation between that and tossing in a promise to repay him for destroying it but just not right then because you didn’t have money, hence why you can’t just buy your own textbook and not borrow ones from the library. Hopefully, he’d be a nice enough guy and won’t take your destruction of his music book to heart. Hopefully.

So, come the next morning, you took one last long look at the destroyed pile of papers held together on your table - still waiting to wake up from this nightmare - and left your apartment with your bag swung over your shoulder. You locked the door behind you, and began the short walk into your first hour of lectures.

You knew you couldn’t get to the cafe before two pm, but that didn’t stop you from checking the clock every few minutes to see if there was a chance you could dag out of the hall. Five past one turned into ten past two, and by the time your lecturer was finishing up her last slide you were already turning off your laptop and putting it away into your bag.

Your heart was in your mouth as you walked slowly up to the cafe. You didn’t even know why you were so nervous, but you guessed it was just because of a guilty conscience. Pushing open the door slowly, you looked up from your shoes and instantly made eye contact with the one, the only. Barista boy.

Great, this is going to be embarrassing.

Swallowing your pride, and your slight disappointment that your first real conversation with the guy is going to be about looking to find another boy, you began to move up towards the counter where he was standing.

“Your usual?” He asked, with a small smile.

“I, uh. No actually, I was wondering. Do you know if - of, sorry, of. Do you know of a Bang Chan, by any chance? I think he studies music in my university.” Your hands were fumbling with each other in front of your hoodie.

The boy in front of you furrowed his brow slightly and tilted his head, stating “Present?”

Oh cool, you destroyed a cute barista boy’s textbook who is actually Chan, the guy you’ve been looking for is the guy you’ve been thirsting over. Great stuff. That's the end of you. Rip in pieces.

After that, you started blabbering out everything. Word vomit, and no stomach medication was stopping this.

“Christ okay, this is gonna sound absolutely horrible, but did you lend one of your music theory textbooks to the library by any chance? Well, heh, of course you did, I have it and I was using it for a while - like for study not for anything else that would be weird - I’m a music major you see, and I - the textbooks are really expensive this year? And I just couldn't afford them with my rent as well but you obviously don’t care about that bit-”

He put up a hand to stop you, and you took a deep breath. Softly, he said, “Yeah, I remember I left some of my older textbooks in the library because I didn’t need them for notes anymore. Is there a problem with one of them?”

You stop.

“Well, yes? Technically? But it's totally my fault - you see, a few night ago i kinda, totally on accident destroyed the book when I spilt coffee over it, and I’m so sorry, i really am and I promise I’ll find the money to repay you for the book, I just don’t have that kind of cash on me right now, I’m so sorry.”

Chan pursed his lips, looking at you with his head lifted up slightly. He chuckled softly. Oh boy he’s so mad, there went your chance at dating the cute barista boy, because newsflash he’s going to hate you for the rest of your life and, you looked again at his face. He was smiling now. The small lips had broken into a beaming smile that spread across his face like sunshine on a stupidly adorable field of flowers.

“You know i've been waiting for a reason to talk to you for the last few weeks.”

His voice broke the rushing of your thoughts around your head, and you flipped your eyes up to meet his in shock.

“So now it kinda seems like you owe me a favour right?”

Words. Come on words.

“Uh, yeah i guess? I'll have the money for you as soon as possible. I promise I'm so sorry-” you stammered out, clearly confused by the situation but still extremely grateful that he was taking the news of his mutilated music book so well.

“It's okay! Seriously, I never used that thing anyway. But instead of paying me back for the book, how about we say you just - owe me a favour?”

Your bank account screamed at you to say yes, so you did.

“Uh, sure?”

When you said you'd owe him a favor, this isn’t what you had meant.

“CHAN I'M GOING TO KILL YOU.”

He only laughs at your threats, running around the back of the sofa and tossing a pillow at your face to block your view. You bat it away in frustration, rejoining the chase, and your socks skid on the wooden flooring as you slide around the furniture in pursuit of your assailant. Chan runs into the bedroom and closes the door, you hot on his heels and you reach the door seconds after it clicks shut. As you slam open the door, and skid into the room, you stop in your tracks. You survey your surroundings, looking for any indication of where the menace could be hiding. The curtains twitch from the wind coming through the open window, and you shift your stance to face the billowing fabric. When your guard is down, he takes his chance.

With a strangled battle cry, Chan leaps out from behind the door and tackles you down in one swift movement. You fall with an ungraceful yelp onto your bedsheets, banging your knee on the foot of the bed as you tumble into a heap. You land on your back, the breath knocked out of you as Chan sits triumphantly atop your legs, pinning them down. He smiles down at you like the angel that he is.

Staring amusedly back up at him, you jerk your uninjured knee, flipping the two of you over so you were on top and he was staring up at you. You tilt your head, and smile at him like he had smiled at you, and the two of you break out into laughter.

“You made me hurt my knee.”

“I didn't make you do anything.”

“Wow, such care. Such emotion. Much love. Not even an offer to kiss it better.”

“I think i have a better idea.”

Yeah, maybe this wasn't exactly what you had in mind, but by god, was it a million times better.

You still had that library book by the way. It was sitting underneath your desk, caffeine stains and all.

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biohackerblogger-blog · 4 years

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Biohacking and Science: A solution for most of your problems

In this article I’m going to be discussing biohacking—what it is and the different aspects of human biology an individual can improve (or “hack”, if you want to call it that) to optimise their life and cognition. In the next blog I’ll discuss the specific improvements I’ve made in my life and their scientific justifications—with an in-depth focus on nutrition, supplementation and cognitive-enhancement.

Biohacking as defined by merriam-webster is “biological experimentation done to improve the qualities or capabilities of living organisms especially by individuals and groups working outside a traditional medical or scientific research environment”.

While that sounds dramatic, the term could also be described as do-it-yourself biology—making small, incremental changes to your diet, habits and life to optimise your cognition and life expectancy. This hobby likely originated in Silicon Valley, a place popular in many trendy self improvement hacks: The keto diet, intermittent fasting and microdosing to name a few.

We are living in an era of excess. Western supermarkets are packed full of processed, sugary, fatty products that people cling to as comfort food. Social media and smartphones have been tweaked to be as addictive as possible. Even television has been replaced by on-demand streaming services that provide countless hours of mindless oblivion to addicted viewers—so much so that “binge-watching” is now a recognized term in many dictionaries. This combination and more has led to the shortening of the average attention span.

Coincidentally, it feels like every other person in recent generations seems to suffer from some form of ADHD, depression or other mental health issues.

Me, technically a part of generation z, am no exception.

I’ve been an underperformer most of my school career, with every parent-teacher meeting ending the same way: “Alexandru is a very bright boy but he doesn’t seem to be reaching his potential in class.”

I daydreamed, lost focus often and was often unmotivated when tackling complex tasks. My mom has practiced psychiatry for 2 decades and during my last year of high school I saw one of her colleagues who eventually diagnosed me with ADHD.

This shook me. I had believed that I was just a lazy person, not working hard enough but now this doctor was basically telling me that it wasn’t my fault; That I had a learning disability that would always put me at a disadvantage to other “functional” people.

As I made my way through university the same issues kept coming up over and over again and I started feeling hopeless. Medication seemed to act as a bandaid on the problem, working as intended inconsistently. Is this what the rest of my life was gonna be like?—Craving achievement while lacking the motivation to acquire it?

Nahhhh, I wasn’t going to let some abstract diagnosis prevent me from prospering in life.

Enter biohacking:

In my spare time at uni I began researching ways of “curing” my ADHD. The goal: Improving my attention, motivation and cognition anyway I could. I’m a scientist, so it only made sense to solve my problems with science. Little did I know I wasn’t so much as curing a disorder as I was just finding ways to optimise my life using scientific knowledge. I tried different lifestyle changes and recorded the positive benefits of each one—Basically running my own scientific experiments on a sample size of 1. Biohacking is basically tweaking your biology to improve your life.

Diet

As I mentioned before, supermarkets today are full of horrible, delicious processed food. It’s expensive eating healthy and it’s difficult to resist the allure of a greasy portion of chips. Regardless, I think a large percentage of the population seriously underestimate how much your diet impacts your day-to-day life as a human being. A heavily debated study found that judges tended to give harsher sentences just before lunch due to hunger (This study has argued about for years). If even people who practice being impartial for a living are at the mercy of their own biology—that means so are you.

Your body is a complex machine, requiring certain amounts of macronutrients (protein, carbs, fats) and micronutrients (vitamins, minerals) to carry out all of it’s processes efficiently. If any of these numbers are skewed, the machine won’t run smoothly. You can optimise your diet in a number of ways depending on your goals, but the FDA and similar organizations provide recommendations as to how much of each nutrient an average individual requires in a day.

Many of the micronutrients have important roles in our day-to-day lives which becomes apparent when we are deficient. Magnesium plays a huge role in good-quality sleep while vitamin D is important for healthy bones and mood. The world health organisation provides guidelines for what they consider a healthy diet which contains healthy doses of all these nutrients. Obviously, we’re human, not superhuman and we can’t always have a perfect diet all the time. There’s no shame in supplementing your diet artificially, just don't use pills as a replacement for healthy eating habits. Getting blood work done can help you identify which vitamins and minerals you're deficient to inform your dietary changes or supplement purchases.

If you're looking to improve cognition, omega-3 fatty acids are a well-researched staple supplement that is found in high quantities in fish. I could write a whole article on cognitive enhancement and supplements—so I’ll save it for the next one.

If weight loss is your goal maybe consider reading up on the science of the keto diet (a fat heavy diet that pushes metabolism into burning fat) or experimenting with alternative eating habits like intermittent fasting. Hell, I hear great things about going vegan nowadays and you’d be saving the environment while you’re at it.

Play around with it, optimise it for your goals and give supplements a try.

Exercise

The NHS recommends 75-150 minutes of exercise a week for the average individual. Obesity continues to be a huge issue in this country and others so more still needs to be done to encourage public fitness. It seems that many people make the mistake of thinking of exercise as a distraction from more important things like careers and making money, especially as they get older. They say they’re simply too busy and can’t find the time but in reality they’re decreasing their potential to excel in other aspects of their lives. There’s no point in making money if you’re too fat and achy to enjoy spending it.

Exercise is important. As Socrates eloquently puts it:

“No man has the right to be an amateur in the matter of physical training. It is a shame for a man to grow old without seeing the beauty and strength of which his body is capable.”

Deep.

Endorphins produced by exercise make us feel great, we sleep better, we have more energy, we are more engaged with our work—Not a whole lot of downsides. For men in particular weight training is a very well-researched method or raising testosterone levels. A hormone my generation seems to be in significant lack of but in need of due to its important properties. Testosterone has anxiolytic properties, lubricates social interactions and is involved in providing an array of physical health benefits too.

Exercise is free, there are no downsides and a plethora of benefits. It doesn’t so much matter what type of exercise you’re doing so much as you’re doing it on a regular basis. It will suck, especially if you’re not accustomed to regular exercise but once you make it a habit (takes around 21 days to make something a habit), you’ll stop thinking about it and it’ll happen automatically.

Biohacking sure sounds a lot like self-improvement eh?

Sleep

In today’s day and age a good night’s sleep has become a rare treat. It’s like taking a gamble every night and hoping you wake up rested. As a student studying in the UK, I feel like I’m probably the most qualified person to say that. Sleep is very important for humans as pretty much all of our physical processes are regulated to some extent by our biological clock. A clock set by our circadian rhythm (Aka sleep cycle). Small perturbations to our sleep can seriously knock our daily rhythm out of line. Memories are written into your long term memory, waste products are flushed from the brain and the body readies itself for the new day. Everyone is aware their performance drops after a poor night’s sleep.

Here are some things you can do:

Humans need to go through about 4-6 sleep cycles per night to function adequately.

Sleep cycle = 90 minutes +/- 5 * 90m = 7.5 hours

Try to wake up after sleeping a multiple of 90 minutes. If you wake up during the middle of a cycle you’re more likely to feel groggy. 6 hours, 7.5 or 9 hours between bed and wake are what you’re looking for.

Avoid blue light before bed. I’m sure you’ve already heard this one but blue light from screens inhibits sleep. Try a blue light filter on your laptop—Flux is the free one I use and recommend.

Avoiding caffeine, sugar and carbs before bed works wonders for your sleep. A magnesium supplement does too.

Going to bed and waking up at the same time consistently will make sleeping easy and soon your whole body will adjust itself to the routine. The human body loves routine.

Anything else worth mentioning

Yes, meditation is a big one. Specifically mindfulness. If you haven’t already been preached to on the internet about the numerous benefits of meditation, it seems to improve pretty much everything about people.—The ultimate meta-habit for improving all aspects of living. It shows promise in ameliorating depressive symptoms, anxiety, self-control and a lot more.

The mobile app headspace provides a great starting point and for those that want a challenge and want to try their hand at a monk’s life check out Vipassana meditation. Their free week-long retreats are a crash course in mindfulness with lifelong benefits. I tried one this summer and was convinced it was a cult for the first 3 days.

I’ve seen huge improvement in my life after I started applying science to fix my problems. I hope I’ve managed to give an effective overview of my experience in biohacking and given you some well-researched places to get started. If you have a biological background I think it’s a shame not to use that background to optimise your life in every way you can.

Thanks for reading,

Alex

P.S. here’s a short rant:

I think (not all, but a lot) of the recent diagnoses of ADHD and depression could be “cured” by not treating it as an isolated malady caused by some bad genes and poor luck—but as a culmination of lifestyle choices and habits that could be improved upon. Exercise and diet should be the FIRST CHOICE intervention when it comes to treating things like ADHD and depression.

I believe diet and exercise should always precede a chemical solution to these ailments. There are hundreds of supplements and activities that have proven psychological benefits that could hugely benefit humans. Thanks again.

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alittledizzy · 6 years

Text

Title: high maintenance machines Rating: PG Word Count: 1420 words Summary: Dan fights with his parents about a lot of things. Today it happens to be about Phil. Notes: Written for @quercussp for my thirty minute fics for charity fundraiser to benefit PhandomGives.

[read on AO3]

There's a stand off moment where they're three paces away from each other, Dan and his dad staring each other down. Their angry words ring in the air around them. Dan's throat feels raw and he can feel wet spittle on his lip from how emphatically he'd been screaming.

"Dan," his mum says, her hand on his arm. "You need to go to your room."

It breaks the spell. He takes a step back.

His father still stands there. There's something dark on his face, something cold in his eyes.

Dan hates that he knows the same expression is probably on his own face.

"I hate it, Phil," Dan says.

He's not crying. He won't cry. He's not a fucking kid.

"You'll be at uni in just a few more months." Phil's being nice, but he's wrong. It's so many months - seven, eight if he can't move over the summer.

"How do you do this?" Dan asks. "How do you live with parents who act like they can't fucking stand you and don't want you to be happy ever?"

Phil doesn't, is the answer. Phil's parents accept him. It's just Dan in this shit situation.

"Dan." Phil sounds pained. "Your mum and dad love you."

Dan feels a hot flare of anger. It isn't love he sees on his dad's face.

Phil just doesn't know what it's like.

A knock on his bedroom door wakes him up the next morning.

He's drooling onto his pillow, sleeping hard after being up half the night waiting for his heart rate to calm and his temper to cool. Phil talked with him through most of it. Dan's not sure what he's done to deserve someone who really wants to listen even when what Dan has to say isn't nice at all.

He swallows against a dry throat and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then calls out for her to come in.

For a moment they just stare at each other. Dan feels frustrated and sad and ashamed.

"You shouldn't catch us off guard with things," she says, sitting on his bed.

She looks tired, hair pulled back and circles around her eyes. He knows he's part of why she looks like that, just exhausted by the shit lot she's got in life with him as a son. It aches at him, gnaws at his heart. He wants to be better. He just gets mad sometimes.

Dan does wait longer than he should to tell his parents things, and he knows it. That little voice in the back of his head is like a countdown clock, reminding him with every morning he wakes up and goes downstairs and says absolutely nothing that he's only making things worse.

But there's always the problem that when he's having a rare peaceful moment with his parents he doesn't want to fuck it up by saying something he knows will make them cross, and when he's already fighting with them he doesn't want to add fuel to the fire and have him say he can't go at all.

"Sorry," he mumbles, and turns over to face the wall.

Could they even stop him going?

Dan feels like they could. He feels like they're his mum and dad and if they tell him he can't do something, he might fight it but he'll usually listen.

Why does he feel like he's eight years old again, toddling around in his mum's heels, like he's just looking around him at what he sees and trying desperately to mimic it? It's not just his parents - even Phil, really. He sees the freedom Phil has, and he knows Phil's a few years older but how does he get to the place Phil is?

He's eighteen now, though. He's done with school. Shouldn't be allowed to do what he wants? Shouldn't he have that freedom?

But when he tries to assert it, the second his parents argue back, he just - he just loses it. He knows screaming and shouting and almost-not-quite crying doesn't make him look grown up. But he's not sure what would. He's not sure why they don't just accept when he says something.

"It just sucks," Dan says. He covers his face with his pillow and shouts into it. He knows Phil can still hear the sound, even if it's muffled.

"Your mum sucks," Phil says. "Oh, that - heh. That sounded worse than I thought it would."

"I hate you." Dan also hates that it makes him laugh, and then he hates that he stops laughing because he's picturing it and - ew. Ew, ew.

"So do you think you can't come?" Phil asks.

He's trying to sound casual, but Dan can feel the nerves in his voice.

"I'm coming." Dan says it firmly. "I don't care what they say."

"Can I say something without you getting mad?" Phil asks.

"Uh," Dan says, because that doesn't sound promising. "Okay."

Phil chews on his bottom lip, then blurts out. "I don't think I want you to come unless your parents are okay with it."

Dan's throat feels suddenly tight. "Oh."

"It's just - Dan." Phil sounds like he's pleading. "I don't want your parents to hate me. It's kind of like, important to me. I've not even met them yet. I don't want them to think that I'm bad for you before I've even had the chance to make a good impression."

Dan does have to stop and count. He does have to take a few breaths to beat back the initial swell of hurt pride and anger.

"Fine," he says, in a voice that conveys the only thing he has left to feel: defeat.

Dan manages to avoid his parents for two entire days before his mum informs him that she's cooked and his presence is strongly requested.

He knows she's just trying to keep the peace. He's also tired of eating crisps and fast food.

His brother's out with friends. It's just Dan and his parents at the table.

His dad barely meets his eye. Dan doesn't say anything, almost a belligerent silence.

His mum finally sighs. "You're both being twats, you know that, right? If I could reach you both, I'd knock your heads together and hope it shook some sense loose."

She sounds so genuinely exasperated that Dan has to work not to crack a smile.

He can tell his dad is doing the same.

"I just want to go see Phil," Dan says. "You let me go to fucking Paris on my own - with my girlfriend. Why can't I go to Manchester?"

He can feel his mum's eyes on him. He's sure she understands that 'go see Phil' has some sort of connotation to it that they're not speaking out loud about. He's not so sure if his dad understands.

He's not sure what he'd even say if he tried to explain it. He and Phil are in that strange state of undeniably something, but neither of them have really said what.

"We knew the people you went to Paris with," his mum says. "We don't know Phil, and it's an entire week."

Dan remembers the last conversation with Phil and crosses his arms sulkily. "Anyway, I might not be invited anymore after all. He said he didn't want me to come unless you were fine with it, because he doesn't want you to hate him."

"Oh." His mum is smiling. Fucking Phil, of course he knew the right way about it all along. "Well, that sounds lovely. Doesn't it?"

She's directing the question at Dan's dad, who is still looking at Dan like Dan is a stranger sitting at his table. Maybe he's catching on after all. It's a queasy realization for Dan. "Sure," he finally says. "You'll have him around, though. We'll need to meet him."

It's neither an admonishment nor acceptance, but it's - something. "Okay," Dan says, because he's sure Phil won't mind.

"There we are now. Grumpy faces gone." Dan's mum reaches out and pats his cheek.

Dan ducks away, laughing. “Ugh. I hate you.”

"Of course you do," she says, going back to eating her meal. "It's your job. All teenagers hate their parents."

Dan meets his dad's eyes. His dad lifts one eyebrow. "And the only one you can keep, apparently."

His dad is smiling, clearly meaning it as a joke even though it doesn’t feel very funny to Dan.

But he pushes past the resentment at the dig and smiles back. At least he's gotten one win today.

#phan #phanfic

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 6 years

Text

Into the Woods

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 6246

Summary: Simon is so done with his roommate's shit. Little does he know he's about to find out why Baz is being weird. Based on "Baz is a secret theatre nerd with glasses and a man bun” request.

Read on AO3

AN: I'm alive! And exhausted because work is a nightmare. Seriously, having a full time job sucks ass. But, WAYWARD SON!!!! I'M SO EXCITED!!!!! Excited and scared, but mostly excited. 2020 can't come soon enough holy shit. Anywho, hope you enjoy this little romp :D

——————————————-

Simon

“What the fuck happened to you?”

I glare at Penny as best as I can with my tired eyes. “What the fuck do you think?”

“He was pacing in your bathroom?”

I sink into the uncomfortable lecture hall bench with a sigh. “Yes, came back late then kept me up until midnight, muttering and humming to himself, again. What the fuck is he doing that requires so much talking and movement. And why does it have to be in the fucking bathroom?!”

Penny shrugs, something usually only I do. “I don’t know, Si.”

“I bet he’s summoning the Devil.”

“Simon, for the last time, he’s an arsehole, not an evil wizard.”

“You don’t have to live with him.”

Penelope sighs and keeps typing on her laptop. I assume my occasional lecture position of arms on desk and head pillowed on arms. One advantage of uni is that professors don’t give a single shit if you sleep through their classes. I know I’m probably wasting my education, but I need sleep. Because of fucking Baz.

“Good morning, Snow.” Ugh, I hate his smooth, perfect voice. I grunt in reply. “Still not a fan of speaking, hm?”

“Fuck off, Baz,” I grumble, “it’s your fault I’m like this.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, completely calm as usual.

I growl, because I hate words enough when I’m awake. And I refuse to use them with him.

He doesn’t answer, the bastard, just walks off. I watch from just over my arm as he sits a few rows in front. He’s easy to spot, what with the tight green t-shirt and stupid man bun. Well, it’s not totally stupid on him. Somehow everything looks good on him. He could wear a garbage bag and still look great. Stupid good looking arsehole.

I doze on and off through the whole psych lecture. It’s not that interesting anyway. And when I wake up, Baz is right in my line of vision, and I keep looking at him. How he re-adjusts his hair every once in awhile. How he spins a pencil between his long fingers. How he lifts his glasses up and down as he looks at the screen then takes notes. Why does he have to be such a good upstanding student and make the rest of us look bad? It’s so bloody infuriating.

I breathe a sigh of relief when the lecture is over. I’m done classes, but Baz has another lecture. I can go back to my room and get a good rest.

“Hey, Si,” Penelope says as I’m gathering my things. “Still wanna study for that English exam together?”

Shit, I promised her we’d study yesterday. Guess my nap will have to wait. “Yeah sure, Pen. Not sure how much help I’ll be. I’m not exactly good at English.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll whip you into shape.” She grabs my arm, and I willingly go.

“Yeah, sure, that’s possible,” I chuckle. We head out the door, but I sneak a look behind me. Baz is talking to a group of people. Huh, that’s weird. Baz and I have been roommates for over a year, and I’ve only ever seen him hang with the same two guys, a freckled redhead and his cousin (I think.) Those two are both standing there now, but for some reason there are a bunch of other people standing around too. Who have big smiles and even bigger gestures. Does Baz have friends now? Huh, he has been out more often. Guess they don’t mind that he’s an annoyingly smart arsehole, or that he looks better than all of them.

“C’mon, Si!”

Penny tugs harder, and I rip my gaze away from Baz. I’ll think about him later.

———————————————-

The only good thing about the student centre is that the chairs are comfy. I’m pretty sure the university invested all their furniture budget into cushy armchairs. I’m certainly not complaining. Especially today, when I could sink into the comfy leather forever.

“And what were the main themes of Fahrenheit 451?” Penny asks.

“Uhhh...” I don’t open my eyes. They feel too heavy. “Books are better than people?”

“I would personally yes, but our prof would disagree. Try again.”

“Blargh.”

“Blargh?” she chuckles. “Simon, are you making up words again?”

“Yes,” I grunt, “because I’m frustrated and tired and probably going to fail all my exams.”

Penny sighs, long and heavy. “You’re not going to fail.”

“You say that because you’re trying to make me feel better because you love me,” I spit out before thinking. I’m tired and have less of a filter than usual.

She scoffs, but in an endearing way. I’m not sure how she does that. “Yes, I love you, Simon, which means I’d never lie to you. You. Are. Not. Going. To. Fail.”

I sigh, because I know she’s right. Penny actually, really believes in me. I’m glad to have her in my life. “Thanks, Pen.”

“You’re welcome. Now, just tell me one theme, please?”

I tilt my head back over the chair, closing my eyes as I try to remember what our monotone prof said. “Uh, censorship?”

“Yes! See? I told you you’d get it.”

“Thank you, Penny,” I murmur, then curl into the armchair. “Now I’m going to sleep for a thousand years.”

Penny sighs exasperatedly, but it’s still loving. “Very well. Want a mint aero bar from the vending machine?”

“Mm, yes please.” I rummage around for my wallet in my back pocket, and pull out (what I hope is) a five pound note. Penny snatches it. I hope she gives me the change.

As I’m sinking into the comfy chair, finally relaxing after hours of discomfort, something gets dropped on my head. I frown and pick up the chocolate bar. I hear Penny sit in the opposite chair.

“Hey,” she says through a mouthful of candy, “look at this.”

“Don’t wanna,” I grumble.

“Simon, open your bloody eyes.”

“Ugh, fine.” I blink my eyes open. Penny is holding a big poster. It’s covered in trees and says "Into the Woods" in fancy letters. Then it lists the school theatre and dates next week. Wait... “Pen, did you steal that off the student events board?!”

“Not important. But look! This is an awesome musical, and the drama club is doing it soon. Maybe we could go see it.”

I twist my lips together. “Hm, I don’t know...”

“C’mon, Si, we’ve both been stressed out. We need to do something fun.”

“And musical theatre performed by probably off key uni students is fun?”

She gives me a deadpan look. “Do we have enough money to do anything better?”

I let out a long sigh. “No, we don’t.”

“Exactly. Now, wanna go see some shitty musical theatre?”

I twist my lips again, fiddling with my chocolate wrapper. “I’ll think about it, Pen. I need to study more if I’m going to pass psych.”

Penelope nods in acknowledgement. “Okay, I get it. The show is next week so we’ve still got time. Now,” she flips her binder open again, “tell me the role of Clarisse in regards to Guy’s character development.”

“Ugh,” I groan, “gimme a minute.”

I put Into the Woods in the back of my mind, and once again try to remember what the fuck our professor said. It’s an annoyingly difficult task.

———————————————-

When I get back to my dorm, Baz isn’t there, again. Man, he’s really been out a lot lately. More than before.

Last year, when he wasn’t in class, he was always in the room. Either reading on his bed or working at his desk. I tried to avoid him as much as possible, because everytime I disturbed him he would glare or make some passive aggressive sarcastic comment. It became clear he didn’t like my presence. So I learned to stay out of his way, but I guess that hasn’t really been a problem lately. And...it’s weird. It’s weird him not being here.

I take a long shower, revelling in the fact that Baz won’t bang on the door and demand I not use all the hot water. After, I curl up in bed, Netflix blaring in my headphones. It’s what I need to wind down after studying. Eventually, I let myself drift off to the sounds of Brooklyn 99.

But I’m woken up again when the door swings open. I grunt but don’t open my eyes. I just listen as Baz softly shuts it, pads around the room, then enters the bathroom. Ugh, fucking hell. He’s pacing and muttering and humming again, and even though he’s quiet, it’s annoying as fuck. I turn up my volume but it’s no use. Just knowing he’s there keeps me up. His presence just overwhelms my brain all the time.

When his footsteps get louder, I know he’s back in the main room. I pull off my headphones and glare at his back.

“Can you not?” I growl.

Baz freezes, head snapping up and shoulders tensing. Guess he thought I was asleep. “Can you be more specific?”

“It’s fucking great that you’re out having fun with your friends, but your late night entrances and obsessive pacing is keeping me up. Some of us aren’t vampires and can’t stay up all night.”

“Sorry my schedule is inconvenient for you, Snow.” His voice is so neutral I can’t tell if he’s mocking me or not.

"Oh fuck off, you prick."

"Incredibly creative insults there."

Ugh, he's so quick tongued. I can't fight him usually, and certainly not when I'm so tired. I opt for grunting and rolling over. Baz quickly goes back into the bathroom to change. (Prudish prick won’t change in front of me.) God, I’m so exhausted. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too. Maybe I do need a break. Something fun...

I grab my phone from where it’s sitting on the floor and send a quick text.

Simon: heyyyy y’know i think i’m down for the musical i do need a break

Penny’s reply is instantaneous. (She was probably browsing Tumblr late at night again.)

Penny: Awesome! I’ll get us tickets for the last show on Friday.

Simon: sweet :) gonna go to bed night pen

Penny: Night, Si.

I power down the phone and restart Netflix again. Baz is already in bed, his black hair fanned out against the white pillowcase. Yeah, I need a distraction. Anything to keep me from thinking about school and exhaustion. As well as the stupid, annoyingly pretty guy sleeping no more than three metres away from me.

———————————————-

“What took you so long?!”

I ran up to Penny panting, completely doubled over. Christ, my lungs are fucking burning. “Sorry...couldn’t find...phone...bus...was late...so so sorry.”

“It’s fine, Si, let’s just get in there. Curtain is in three minutes.”

She takes my sleeve and drags me inside. She’s stomping, so I know she’s really pissed. I move to hold her hand tightly, squeezing it. “I’m really sorry, Pen.”

Penny keeps stomping, but sighs and squeezes back. “I know. Let’s just get in there.”

I let out a small sigh, because I know we’re still okay.

We rush into the theatre, jittering at the ticket booth and snatching up programs as we run past the poor student volunteer. Penny quickly finds us two seats in a not that shitty place. Surprisingly, the theatre is quite packed. Huh. I wouldn’t expect this many people for a student production.

“We made it,” Penny sighs.

“Yeah,” I reply. “So much for stress free evening.”

She chuckles, almost sardonically. “Yeah, unfortunately agreed. Now shush, curtain’s coming up.”

The whole theatre gets dark, and orchestra music swells. I lean back in my chair. The curtain rises to reveal (what I think at least) is a minimal set with people on it. A few tree silhouettes in the back, a raised platform, a fake fireplace, fake counter, and a fake cow next to a stool. Everything is just so fake. Penny said I had to “suspend my disbelief”. It’s hard to pretend with such little there. This is why I like TV and movies.

All the people on stage are wearing sort of fairy tale clothes. They start singing about what they wish for. To go to a party, for a cow to have milk, and to have a baby. Christ, is this whole thing just about people wanting things? Musicals are fucking weird.

I sort of half zone out, picking up on bits and pieces of the show and dozing off. Baz has been coming back later and later all week and waking me up each time he opens the door. The theatre is dark, so it’s hard to stay awake. I fall asleep at the scene with Rapunzel and the witch, but start to stir again when Jack’s mom throws the magic beans on the ground (ha, idiot.) But since this play jumps around more than a rabbit on a sugar rush, suddenly the Baker’s Wife is walking around in the woods with the cow as Cinderella runs past. She’s running from the ball again and hides behind the Wife. A trumpet goes off as someone gallops ridiculously on stage-

Wait, is that...

“Baz!?”

Three people shush me, but I ignore them, because Baz fucking Pitch is on stage right now, hamming it up with everyone else. He’s wearing a silly outfit that reminds me of a Disney prince, with a white jacket and a red sashs and gloves. His hair is slicked back with gel, emphasizing his stark widow’s peak more than usual. He’s not wearing his glasses either. Huh. I’ve never seen him without them. He looks...good. Well, he looks good with them too, but this is just a different sort of good.

I don’t pay attention to the scene, not even listening to what they’re saying. I’m just focusing on Baz and his amazingly ridiculous appearance. Oh my god he looks so stupid, trotting his feet and flicking his hands like he’s holding reins. When he’s offstage I lean over to Penny, who’s jaw is also on the ground.

“What the hell is Baz doing here?!” I whisper.

“I...have no idea,” she replies very hushed. It’s the first time I’ve heard her admit she doesn’t know something.

The play continues, but I’m paying attention even less. I just keep waiting for Baz to show up again. I’m so jittery. My leg is shaking at lightspeed. Penny kicks my foot in an attempt to stop me but it doesn’t help. The only thing that makes it stop is seeing Baz gallop ridiculously on stage, along with Rapunzel’s Prince.

“Ah, there you are, good brother. Father and I had wondered where you had gone,” he says to Baz.

“I have been looking all night for her,” Baz replies. His voice is like it always is, smooth and commanding. Like he was born to tell people what to do. Usually I find it annoying, but right now it works. He is supposed to be a prince.

The two princes commiserate over their mutual impossible loves. They're both idiots.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel! What kind of name is that? You jest! I have never heard of such a thing,” Baz laughs out.

Rapunzel’s Prince snorts. “I speak the truth. She is as true as your maiden. A maiden running from a prince? None would run from us.”

“Yet,” Baz sighs, “she has.”

Then he starts singing, and my brain short circuits.

Holy shit. Baz is singing. And he’s singing well. His voice is a solid, smooth baritone. It reverberates through the theatre perfectly. I’m totally transfixed. Since when could Baz sing so incredibly?!

“Agony!” He belts. “Beyond power of speech. When the one thing you want, is the only thing out of your reach.”

Holy. Shit.

I don’t realise how much I’m gaping until Penny pushes up my hanging lower jaw back up. The whole song is quite ridiculous, and Baz sings it perfectly. He looks properly agonized through it. I didn’t know he could be so expressive. He’s, just, amazing.

The songs ends, and Baz exits. I don’t pay attention, what with my mind still spinning. So, Baz, my arsehole geeky roommate, can act, and sing, and looks weirdly amazing in a stupid prince costume. Okay, that’s a lot of new info to process.

Before I know it, the lights come back on, and Penny is tugging on my sleeve.

“Simon?”

I look up at her bewildered. “What?”

“C’mon, get up, I want to stretch my legs, and we can get some snacks. I bet you’re hungry.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, that’d be great.”

I follow behind her with my hands in my hoodie pockets. While Penny goes to the snack bar, I sit on a bench. Something stabs me in my pocket. I pull out the crumpled program. Wait, Penny mentioned this week the actors have bios in the program. I furiously flip through it.

I find Baz’s picture almost immediately. It’s black and white and a bit blurry but I can still make out his face. He looks normal in it. Tight shirt, glasses falling down his nose, hair tied up. But here, he's smiling slightly. Wow, I’ve never seen him look anything other than bored or annoyed. It’s weird, but also nice. I look down at the bio.

Baz Grimm-Pitch - Cinderella’s Prince A witty English literature major with a salt and vinegar crisp addiction plays Cinderella’s arrogant love. In his spare time, Baz plays the violin, studies the development of the English language, and competes in a recreational football league. “Into the Woods” is his first dramatic production.

I chuckle under my breath. Baz really is such a nerd. Even though I already know most of this, it’s kinda...cute? I’m not sure if that’s the right word but it feels right. The little blurb is just makes him sound so adorable. I can almost forget he’s an arsehole.

“Si, you want a cookie?”

I snap my head up to glare at a smirking Penny. She waves the chocolate chip cookie tauntingly. I snatch it from her hand, making sure to glare at her while I take a huge bite. She sits down next to me and looks over at the program.

“Huh,” she says, “at least they got a good photo of Basilton.”

“Yeah,” I reply quietly. “Still can’t believe he’s in this.”

“Me neither. I thought he was just a quiet academic like me.”

“Same, but...he’s actually really good.”

“I hate to give him a victory, but yeah, he is. He’ll probably be good in the second act too.”

I whip my head around to her, eyes wide. “Second act?! I thought the story was wrapped up!”

Penny shakes her head, swishing her curls. “Nope. There’s another part. It’s just as long.”

I look at my phone clock. “We’ve already been here for an hour and a half!”

She takes a bite of her cookie and smiles around the mouthful. “Yup. Welcome to musical theatre, Si.”

I groan and slump forward. The program is still in my hand, and still on Baz’s picture. Well...if Baz has got more songs, maybe I won’t mind staying.

———————————————-

So the second act, from what I can tell, pretty much destroys all the happy endings of the first act. Wow, okay, that’s not depressing at all. Everybody either gets squished by a giant or just generally fucks up. What a pleasant play.

Baz comes back on a few times. First, he and the other prince sing another version of the previous song. It’s the same tune and the same idea, but they’re singing about different impossible women. I chuckle. So Baz’s character is a total bastard. Kind of makes him seem like less of an arsehole by comparison.

Later, as everything in the story continues to fall apart, Baz runs into the Baker’s Wife. After one short conservation, the lights go pink, and the music gets slow. Baz starts approaching her with a smirk.

“Anything can happen in the woods,” he sings. “May I kiss you?”

My eyes pop out. Well, that’s forward. Far more forward than Baz probably really is. I know it’s just the play, but Baz looks so strong and handsome, that I believe him. And, is it wrong that I sort of wish it was real? That Baz would actually be that well, sexy? God, did I just call Baz sexy?!

Baz does kiss her, and it’s so intense that I blush. The Wife walks away from him, but he grabs her again and twirls her into his arms. Together, they glide across the wooden stage, occasionally kissing more. He spins her in and out, leading her around, all while singing a sleezy but beautiful song to seduce her.

“Foolishness can happen in the woods,” he croons. “Once again, please...let your hesitations be hushed. Any moment, big or small, is a moment after all. Seize the moment, skies may fall any moment.”

They kiss again, and I can’t believe how passionate it is. How passionate Baz is. It’s strange and wonderful to watch. All too soon, the Wife is pulling away and the kiss ends. But my brain is still swirling while Baz sings again.

“Right and wrong don't matter in the woods, only feelings. Let us meet the moment unblushed. Life is often so unpleasant. You must know that, as a peasant. Best to take a moment present. As a present, for the moment.”

With Baz’s last line, they walk off stage. I’m still blushing, and very confused by my own feelings.

Soon enough, the play ends. Baz’s character leaves Cinderella and marries Sleeping Beauty. (Wow, what a bastard.) But after all that misery, everyone atill alive is alright, I guess. The actors line up and bow. Everyone starts applauding. Oh shit. I quickly join. All the cast members smile brightly as they bow. And when Baz steps up, he’s no exception. Christ, he actually looks amazing when he smiles. It fits his face far better than a scowl or a thin flat line.

I’ve been learning a lot of new things about Baz tonight.

The cast leaves and the curtain falls. Lights turn back on. People start shuffling out. I’m still a bit dumbfounded to move though. I just saw Baz in a musical, where he sang and danced and kissed perfectly. He was fucking incredible. And I should let him know.

As we’re walking out the door, I turn to one of the ticket takers. “Hey, where are the actors coming out?”

“They should be in the alley to the left soon.”

“Awesome, thanks.”

On the sidewalk, I tug on Penny’s hand. “You can head home, Pen. I’m gonna stick around for a bit.”

Penny gives me a curious look, but just shrugs. “Alright then. See you, Si.”

“See you.”

She saunters off with a spring in her step. I watch her, wondering if I should run after and not do this. But I stay still. Fuck, what am I doing?

The actors trickle out one by one. I notice Baz’s friend and his cousin, but they run off before I can ask them where Baz is. The crowd thins until I’m the only one left, standing there like an idiot. Maybe I missed him. Maybe I should just go-

“Blasted dead mobile,” a familiar voice grumbles.

My head snaps up just in time to see Baz stop in his tracks. He looks like a deer in the headlights, grey eyes wide behind his spectacles. He’s back to his usual style of t-shirt and glasses and manbun. Back to the Baz I know. His mouth hangs open in complete and utter shock.

“Hey,” I say as casually as possible.

“Snow,” he replies shakily, a slight redness appearing on his cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

"I, just saw the show. The one you were in. Obviously. And I just wanted to find you and say you're uh, you were really good."

He visibly gulps, fiddling with his knapsack strap. “Thank you. I...didn’t realise you were a musical theatre fan.”

I chuckle and rub the back of my neck. “I’m not, not really. Penny convinced me to come. I didn’t expect to see you here either. Especially on stage. How the Hell did that happen?”

Baz sighs with both exasperation and what seems like a little happiness, maybe. “Well, if you must know, my cousin was the one who originally decided to audition and I helped him with his lines. I said he was shite, and he bet me I couldn’t audition better. I’m very competitive, so I made a real effort to do well. Then I got in. I was going to turn it down, but Dev convinced me to try. It’s been, weirdly fun. I like performing. And I made new friends. Turns out there’s more to life than studying.”

“Huh,” I chuckle, “that’s pretty neat. So all that pacing and humming in the washroom was you rehearsing your lines?”

“Oh, yeah. I didn’t want you to know because it felt embarrassing. Sorry about that.”

I blink rapidly. Holy shit, I’m legitimately in shock. Baz Pitch just apologized to me. Wow. Tonight has been bizzare. “I-It’s okay. I get it now. Honestly, I just thought you were keeping me up on purpose because you hate me.” I try to laugh that last part off with a nervous chuckle.

Baz looks at the ground, shuffling his feet. I’ve seen Baz cold before, detached and pulled in and what not. But this is different. He looks...nervous. When he speaks, his words are shaky and quiet. “I don’t, you know. Hate you. I never have.”

My world tilts sideways. I nearly stumble backwards from the shock of his words. I look for any sign of deceit and find none. All I see is the anxious sort-of-teenager confessing something apparently really hard to say.

“Oh,” I stutter out. “You...you don’t?”

“No,” he says. “I just, I make arsehole comments when I’m nervous. Especially to those who...make me nervous.”

Huh? What the hell does he mean? “I, make you nervous?”

“Yes. You have almost since we met.”

I’m still confused. I take a moment to study Baz. His pulled in body language, his knapsack fiddling, his downcast eyes, his increasingly obvious blush-

Oh. Oh.

“Oh,” I squeak. Baz sighs in an annoyed way. That probably wasn’t the response he wanted.

“Yeah,“ he grumbles. “Oh.”

Crap I don’t know what to say. I end up blurting out the first thing that comes to my dumb head. “So is that stereotype about guys in theatre being gay true?”

Baz head lifts up to better glare at me. His eyes are like stormy grey daggers. “No, obviously not. It’s a stereotype for a reason.”

Shit shit, I’m so bad at this. I run a hand through my tangled hair. “Right, right, sorry. I make dumb comments when I’m nervous.” I sigh and look right at him, eyes fixed despite my fear. “I guess what I’m trying to ask to in my stupid way is, are you gay? Just, want to make sure I'm not misinterpreting. I do that a lot.”

Baz’s face softens. No more steely glare, just neutral, save for his slightly pulled in lips. “Yes,” he says like he has to force the words out. “Yes, I am.” He gulps, fiddling with his strap like mad. “Are you?”

I shrug, because truthfully the only honest gesture. “Sorta, I guess. At least part of me must be, considering how much I like looking at you.”

He inhales sharply, and the blush starts creeping down his long neck. “Oh. That’s...not something I was aware of.”

“Honestly?” I chuckle, pulling at my hair again. “Me neither. I mean, I’m always looking at you, but I never thought about why too much. It wasn’t until the show that I realised how much I like to stare at you. Um, sorry if that’s creepy.”

“No,” he replies very quickly. “no, it’s uh, it’s actually fine.”

He’s blushing very hard. Shit, am I blushing too? It certainly feels like it. “Oh. Okay.”

We look at each other in silence for a long moment. I’m not sure what to say, and obviously neither does he. We’re just two idiots standing on a driveway. I feel my stomach rumble. Oh man, I’m a hungry idiot.

“So,” I say, rocking on my heels, “do you have anywhere to be?”

Baz shakes his head. “No, not really. I’m supposed to go to the wrap party but fuck that. I was just going to go home to the dorm.”

“Well, in that case, uh, you wanna go get something to eat? There’s a 24 hour diner near our dorm building.”

He looks at me curiously, studying me like a specimen. “Are you asking me as your roommate, a fan of my performance, or...something else?”

I chew my bottom lip. Cautiously, I step forward and and brush my fingers on the back of his hand. He doesn’t pull away, so I hold it loosely. “Something else, preferably.”

Baz looks at me with wide, open eyes, filled to the brim with worry. “Snow, you do remember that we're roommates, right? If whatever, this is doesn't work out, we're still going to have to live with each other for months. That would not be pleasant. And hell, Snow, you barely know me, really. Is this really worth the risk?”

My grip on his hand tightens. He still doesn’t pull away. “Y-Yeah, of course I know this could all blow up in our faces. But, Baz, I really want to try. Like, you currently occupy like 90% of my thoughts. And sure most of them were negative, because I thought were a prick.” He frowns at that. It’s actually adorable. “But now, I’d really like to find out what you’re like when you’re not a prick. So I think it’s worth the risk.” I take a deep breath, making sure to look at Baz right in the eye. “Do you?”

I can see the gears turning in his big head. I’ve seen it a hundred times in class when we have to solve a problem. It’s even more fascinating up close. How his lips shift, his eyes darting back in forth. He doesn’t let go of my hand the whole time though. I catch the moment his face relaxes though, when he makes his decision.

“Yes,” he says quietly, “I think it’s worth the risk too.”

We both grin at the same time. Fuck I never knew before tonight that seeing his smile could make me so happy. I think I want to see it a lot more.

“Well, c’mon then.” I tug on his arm, and we start walking. “I’m hungry.”

“When are you not hungry, Snow?”

I scoff. “I thought you were only a prick when you were nervous.”

“I’m about to go on a date with my roommate who I’ve been hopelessly pining after for over a year. So excuse me, but I’m very nervous.”

Wow, my whole face must look like a tomato right now. Looking over, I see that Baz is in the exact same state. Either this is going to be incredible or a complete disaster. I’m seriously hoping for the first one.

“Don’t be,” I say as kindly as I can, “it’s just a date. We’ll see how this goes and go with it, alright?”

Half his mouth pulls up in a lazy smile. I like him relaxed like this. “Okay. I can live with that.”

I grin. I can’t stop grinning tonight. “Awesome. Now, important first date question.” He looks at me curiously and somewhat afraid. “Where the hell did you learn to sing so well?”

Baz lets out a breathy laugh. “Playing the violin all your life gives you surprisingly good pitch. It only took a few sessions with the pianist to get the songs okay. Not that they were easy. Apparently Sondheim is never easy.”

“That’s amazing.” He examines me for any sign of mocking, but he won’t find anything. I genuinely thinks it’s really cool.

“Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it.”

“Could I get a repeat performance?”

“No.” I pout as much as I can, bottom lip pushed very far out. Baz stays strong for a few more seconds, then sighs. “Maybe some other time.”

I smile again. “Awesome. Next question, what was it like getting into those tight prince pants?”

“I am not dignifying that question with an answer.”

“Oh c’mon! I’m just wondering.”

“And wondering you shall stay.”

I make a “pbblt” sound with my lips. “Fine, spoilsport. How about you tell me what the production was like? Penny says plays are all drama behind the scene too.”

“Fucking hell it was a nightmare! Dev, Niall, the Witch, and Cinderella were great, but generally actors are self absorbed idiots. First day, Rapunzel came in hungover and spilled her entire coffee on my shirt. Baker's wife was the the world's worst diva. And don’t get me started on the Wolf. He tried to bang every girl in the cast, and a couple of the guys too.”

He goes on like that as we walk down the dimly lit street hand in hand. I interject a bit of commentary here and there, but I just let him talk. He’s fun to listen to. I like his sarcastic, sharp humour. Especially when it’s not directed at me.

I think I like him. A lot.

———————————————-

“No no, I’m serious!” I say far too loud, considering the time and that we’re walking down the hall of our dorm building. “Jamie is gonna kill Cersei. It’s inevitable.”

“He’s already left King’s Landing though,” Baz replies cooly.

“Yeah, but he can come back.”

“I suppose. But I think he’s going to be too busy with the White Walkers to deal with his crazy twin sister.”

“Good point. Maybe it’ll be the finale, when Dany finally storms King’s Landing.”

“Ugh, she needs to do that already. It’s been eight seasons!”

“They’re keeping us in suspense.”

I groan and lean back against the dorm room door. “I know. It’s fucking torture.” I sigh looking at the brown piece of wood. It feels so massive right now. “So, we’re here.”

“I noticed.” Baz stands in front of me, with only a few feet between us.

“First date protocol says I’m supposed to walk you to the door. But we’ve got the same door, so...”

“Yes, I’m not quite sure what to do either.”

We stare at each other. I study his face, like I have been doing all night. I spent most of our meal staring at him as he talked. I can finally admit to myself that I like to do that, and now I can also say I like his laugh, his smile, and the way he talks about his passions. I just keep seeing him in a new light. Everything feels different and new and scary. I love it.

“So,” I say quietly, “did you have fun?”

Baz smiles softly. “Yes, I did.”

“Would you, be persuaded to do this again?

“Is that your way of asking me out for a second date, Snow?”

I shrug up to my pink tinged ears. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Then yes. I would like to do this again.”

I nod rapidly, far too nervous for my own good. “Okay, cool, awesome, sounds good. Do we...just go to bed now?”

Baz shrugs slightly. “I suppose so.”

We immediately go back to staring. But my gaze drifts downwards, to his thin lips that are currently pressed together. I still remember that stage kiss. I know that was all fake, but I wonder what the real thing would be like that. I wonder if that passion translate to real life. To me.

“Simon...” Baz whispers. He’s somehow gotten closer. And my breath hitches, because he’s looking at my mouth too.

Fuck it.

I grab the front of his shirt and kiss him hard.

Baz gasps against my mouth, but very quickly sinks into it. His lips slide with mine perfectly. He presses one hand to my neck and buries the other in my hair. I groan and slide mine across his back. Christ, he’s so fucking fit. I want to tear his shirt off and feel all these muscles directly on my finger.

“Kissing on the first date, Snow?” Baz whispers playfully in one of the few moments we aren’t liplocked. “Scandalous.”

“Oh, fuck you,” I grumble, holding his hips tighter.

After a few more kisses, he pulls away with a small grin. My knees buckle at the devilish glint in his grey eyes. He looks just as sexy as he did on stage. “Well,” he drawls, “if you insist.”

For the second time tonight, my brain completely short circuits.

This is so new and scary, yet, I’m so fucking excited. I suppose it’s going to be an adventure. Into the unknown. Into the woods, I suppose.

I kiss him again, clenching my fist in his hair so hard his man bun falls apart, curtaining our faces in black strands. He pushes a hand under my shirt to feel up my stomach. I fumble with the keycard and get the blasted door open, then pull Baz in by the back of his neck. The door closes, and the rest of the night is a blissful whirlwind.

Hooray for musical theatre.

———————————————- AN: "Blargh" is copyright Theo the Fanfic Writer and anyone who steals it will be sued. /s ;)

So yeah, musicals! "Into the Woods" is my favourite musical of all time and I think Baz would be a perfect Cinderella's Prince. Also I've always thought Baz would be an incredible singer. Simon would be floored lol. Sorry if this is a little rough tbh. Hard to describe someone watching a musical haha. I struggled writing it but, I had fun in the end. I love writing Simon the Oblivious Pining Idiot. Requests are still open and I will get to them between being dead from work. Hope you enjoyed this :)

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #musical #fluff #into the woods #making out #mysnowbazfic #long post

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imnotinclinedtomaturity · 6 years

Text

Love Yourself (Chapter 4)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 5.9k story words: 15k (so far) chapter: 4/? rating: t warnings: language genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[previous chapter]] [[first chapter]]

He hadn’t planned on spending Wednesday night at Isabella’s, but, well… by the time she was done celebrating, he was exhausted and more than a little tipsy.

The next morning was slow; it was rare that their schedules allowed them to lounge in bed in the morning. Regardless of the day of the week, at least one of them usually had a meeting, or a shoot, or a rehearsal to go to. But on that morning, Isabella only got out of bed briefly, just to fetch two cups of coffee and the television remote, before settling back in between Dan’s legs with her back pressed warmly against his bare stomach. Without asking, she put on some inane reality show, but Dan was content to endure it in exchange for intimacy. During moments like this, Dan could feel his hesitations about his relationship with Isabella melt away.

He’d gotten into a bit of a fight about it with Louise earlier that week.

Well, fight might have been a strong word. It was more of an impassioned disagreement.She’d demanded that he explain what he saw in Isabella, what could possibly make up for the (admittedly large) amount of bullshit she pulled.

“It’s nice,” he’d said. “Having someone who’s always willing to try new restaurants or bars with me.” He’d paused then, trying to figure out how to say what he was thinking. “And the physical stuff, too. It’s nice to have that.”

Louise had promptly informed him that 1) she was always willing to try any new restaurant with him and 2) if he was looking for sex, all he had to do was go to a bar and actually talk to someone.

He’d been unable to articulate it then, but this was it. This was the reason he “overlooked all of her shit” (Louise’s words, not his). Random sex from a bar wouldn’t result in easy, intimate mornings like this. Random sex from a bar wouldn’t result in finding someone who was willing to stick around, willing to overlook his shit. Random sex from a bar was just that: sex. No romance, no affection, no dates. Just sex.

Eventually, though, the morning had to end. They had to get out of bed and begin their days. By the time Dan had pulled his jeans on and Isabella had begun her makeup routine, the spell was broken.

Friday night came faster than Dan anticipated. Thursday morning’s lie in meant he was playing catch up for the next day and a half. He had half a dozen emails to respond to about an upcoming demo, and he was supposed to have three new songs samples in a month and a half. Currently he had a few melodies and a few lyrics, just nothing that went together.

At five, Dan forced himself to put his guitar down — not that he’d been terribly successful in writing anything — and shower. He’d agreed to meet Isabella at her apartment at half past six so they could go to the restaurant together.

For once in Dan’s life, he was actually ready for an event early; he had almost half an hour to kill. He considered having a drink while he waited until an appropriate time to leave, but he interrupted his own thought with a yawn. Coffee, then.

He grabbed Addie’s present and his coat on the way out the door, not bothering to pull it on. As soon as Dan stepped outside and felt the frigid London air, he regretted not taking the moment to put his coat on, even if he was only going half a block to Beans and Grind.

Inside the coffee shop was warm though. Someone had lit the fireplace and the lights were softer than normal. But warmest of all, Phil was behind the counter.

“Don’t you look fancy,” Phil greeted him, his eyes slowly sweeping over his body as he took in his outfit. “I like the monochrome patterned shirt. It suits you.”

Dan squirmed under Phil’s gaze and ran a self-conscious hand down the lapels of his suit.

“It’s my sister’s birthday,” Dan supplied.

“Ah, I remember you mentioning that was this weekend.”

Dan nodded, astonished Phil had remembered something he’d said so quickly in passing, literally on his way out the door.

“So,” Phil’s voice tore Dan out of his thoughts. “What’s your evening order? I hope you aren’t planning to have a triple espresso at this hour.”

“Shut up, Dad. I can make my own bad decisions if I want.” Phil cocked an eyebrow and studied Dan for a moment, but otherwise didn’t respond. Dan had only managed to fluster himself. “Um, I mean, I’ll just have a single espresso, thanks.”

Phil chuckled and reached for the smaller to-go cup.

“No!” Phil startled at Dan’s outburst. “Um, for here, actually. I have a bit of time to kill before dinner.”

Phil grabbed a small mug and began making Dan’s coffee with practiced ease. “Dan Howell? Early? Is the world ending?”

“Hey! I won’t stand for being bullied. I’ll go find a different coffee shop.”

There was a flicker of panic in Phil’s eyes, so brief Dan questioned whether he imagined it, before he let out a hearty laugh. Normally, Phil covered his mouth when he laughed, but both of his hands were busy with the machine. Dan’s eyes were quickly drawn down to his mouth; he had to tear his gaze away when Phil started speaking.

“Good luck, mate. I don’t think there are any other quiet hipster coffee shops within one block of your flat, but you can try.”

Dan rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Just give me my coffee, you spoon.”

Obediently, Phil dumped a bit of sugar into Dan’s coffee and slid it across the counter at the same time Dan reached for the drink, far too restless to sit still. The movement forced their fingers into contact as Dan’s hand landed on top of Phil’s against the side of the hot mug. For a second, both boys stilled. Dan’s eyes flickered down to their hands and back up to Phil’s face. He had the urge push the mug away and tangle his fingers with Phil’s, but he couldn’t.

Where did that come from?

With a shy smile, Dan pulled his drink away and sat on the same stool as last time and took a large sip. Unfortunately, the temperature took Dan by surprise, and he sputtered as he tried to swallow his mouthful of coffee so he could open his mouth and pant.

Great, now I look like a deranged dog.

“Jesus fucking hell, god damn, that’s hot.” The part of Dan that didn’t feel on fire had half the sense to be embarrassed at his outburst. Phil, on the other hand, looked like he was doing everything he could to keep from laughing.

“Phillllll, I’m in paainnnn.” Dan’s high pitch whine broke the little composure Phil still had.

“What—did—you—expect?” Phil’s words came out in a staccato, punctuated by laughter. “The water—it was just boiling.”

Through his laughter, Phil filled a small cup with ice and handed it to Dan, who gratefully popped one in his mouth.

Dan held Phil’s gaze as they both lost control of their laughter, unable to look away from the giggling man in front of him; Phil didn’t break eye contact either. Their laughter subsided, but Dan continued to smile at Phil, lost in the moment.

Eventually — whether it minutes or hours or years later, Dan didn’t know — Phil snapped his eyes away, suddenly growing red in the face.

Roughly, Phil cleared his throat and looked back at Dan, not quite meeting his eyes. “So, tell me about your sister.”

Dan smiled. He was slowly getting used to this — used to the fact that someone besides Louise wanted to learn everything about him. But Dan felt it too. The more he talked to Phil, the more he wanted to get to know him.

“Hmm… She’s younger than me, she’s turning eighteen today.”

“Oh wow, that’s a big age difference. Like five years? My brother and I are only two apart.”

“That must be nice. I feel like when I left home she was still a child and now she’s not. I want to get to know her as, you know, an adult, but it’s hard. I keep a weird schedule.”

“That’s hard. It’s good that you want to spend more time with her, though. Hopefully you can, when she doesn’t have as strict of a school schedule. Has she thought about uni yet?”

“Yeah, she’s thinking of Imperial, actually, which would be nice. She’d be a lot closer so I could maybe hang out with her more. Plus, it’s a really good school.”

“No kidding. What’s she interested in?” Phil snuck a muffin out of the display case to munch on.

“Honestly, I’m don’t really know. She’s told me about it a few times, but… I know it has something to do with robots.”

“Like Big Hero 6?”

“That’s what I said!!!” Dan took a tentative sip of his coffee, hoping it had cooled enough to drink. “She’s always been more academic than me. Fuck, I didn’t even make it through a semester of uni before I dropped out to give music a go.”

“That worked out pretty well for you, I’d say.” Dan chuckled, looking down at the calluses on his hands from playing the guitar.

“Yeah, I suppose it did. What about you? Did you do the whole uni thing?”

Phil picked off a bit of his muffin. “I did. Twice actually.”

Dan was impressed, albeit bewildered. How could anyone stomach that much school? “Twice? In what?”

“I got my bachelors in english language and linguistics, and then I ended up getting a masters in video post-production.”

Dan’s jaw dropped. “You have a masters? And you’re working in a coffee shop?”

“Erm,” Phil muttered, looking uncomfortable Shit that was probably so rude. Dan snuck a bite of Phil’s muffin, needing to do something with his hands.

“Excuse you!” Phil playfully batted Dan’s hand away. “Keep your paws off my food, don’t you have your own dinner to go to?”

“Oh shit!” Dan looked at his watch. “I’m supposed to be at Isabella’s in five minutes.” Frantically, Dan pulled his phone out and ordered an Uber; luckily it wasn’t busy and the nearest car was only two minutes away.

“Ah yes, there’s the Dan Howell I know. I knew the early thing had to be a one-off.” Dan dropped a tenner on the bar. It was that or scrounge together coins to make £4.

“I thought I told you to not make fun of me, Philip.” Dan’s phone dinged, announcing that his Uber was approaching. “I gotta run. Seen you soon?” Dan wasn’t sure why it came out as a question — they’d long since passed the point where they were unsure if they’d see each other again.

“You know where to find me, Daniel. Have a good dinner with your sister!”

Dan smiled and waved as he attempted to back out of the door. Unable to do anything gracefully, he rammed his shoulder into the doorframe. Oof.

“Dan! Watch where you’re going. Turn around and get out of here before you’re even later!”

“Yeah, yeah. Have a good night, Phil.”

As Dan climbed in the Uber, he couldn’t help but think that he’d much rather spend the rest of his evening at Beans and Grind than sit through what was sure to be an uncomfortable evening juggling his family and Isabella.

Instead, Dan texted Isabella to let her know he was on the way. He hoped she’d be ready when they arrived and would meet him outside, but months of picking her up didn’t give Dan much faith.

As expected, Isabella told him to come upstairs because she “wanted to see what he was wearing so they could match.” Disgruntled, Dan got out of the car and half-jogged into the lobby.

I really should put that damn coat on.

Dan’s hands were empty, save for Adaline’s present. Oh shit. He thought back — he’d definitely had it when he left his flat, and he’d laid it on the stool next to him at Beans and Grind and — yup, that’s definitely where it is.

He glanced at his watch — they only had twenty minutes to get to the restaurant and apparently Izzy wasn’t even dressed yet. Well fuck. Too late to do anything about the coat now.

When Dan let himself into Isabella’s apartment, he found she wasn’t in the lounge or the bathroom.

“Izzy?”

“In the bedroom. Get in here.” Isabella snapped from the room over.

When Dan entered the bedroom, he found Isabella staring at four dresses she’d laid out on the bed, each a variation of the same dress. All of the dresses were form fitting, had low necklines, and only reached mid-thigh at best. None of them screamed “introduce me to your parents in this.” Wordlessly, Dan made a beeline for her closet and riffled through the many, many dresses.

“Here, wear this one.” He pulled out a simple black dress. Unlike the dresses on the bed, the dress had a higher neckline and flared out at the waist. “You wanted to match, it’ll go with my shirt. And plus, you won’t look…” Dan cut himself off.

“Look what?”

“Um, it’ll be a looser dress, that’s all.”

“What?” Isabella’s tone was cold, condescending. “Don’t want me to look like a puta?”

Dan held his hands up in surrender. “No, no, that’s not what I was saying. You know I like those dresses, they’re sexy. But maybe sexy isn’t the right look when you’re meeting my family?”

Isabella’s face softened a little, and she plucked the dress out of Dan’s hand. “Fine, I guess you’re right.” She sounded resigned. “I do want to make a good impression on your family.”

Luckily, Isabella had already done her hair and makeup and only needed to pull on her dress and shoes. They were out the door and in another Uber (Select this time, of course) in a record 15 minutes.

For once, London traffic wasn’t too horrific, and they were only seven minutes late to their reservation. He’d hoped his family would already be seated, but they were stood by the door, waiting for Dan and Isabella to arrive.

“Addie! Happy birth—” Dan started to say, but was cut off by his mother.

“Daniel James Howell, where is your coat? It’s minus two outside!” His mother scolded him.

“I know, mother. I forgot it.” He could practically see the lecture forming in his mother’s head, so he did the only thing he could think of to derail it. “Everyone, this is Isabella. Isabella, meet my Mum, Dad, and sister, Adaline.”

Isabella graciously greeted his family, kissing each of them on the cheek with soft exclamations of hola preciosa and comó estás señor? in her full Spanish charm.

I guess she was serious about this making a good impression thing.

“Mr. Howell, thank you for dining with us tonight. Your table is right this way, sir.”

The host guided them to a small alcove in the back. When Dan made the reservation, he’d mentioned that he was coming for a birthday, so the restaurant must have taken care to reserve one of the more private tables.

“Will this be suitable?”

“Yes, definitely. Thank you.” Dan pulled a chair out for his sister. Isabella huffed quietly, pulling her own chair out to sit. Their waitress approached as soon as they were settled in.

“Good evening, my name is Ellie and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you started with something to drink?”

“A sparkling water, San Pellegrino if you have it, two ice cubes,” Isabella answered before anyone else had the opportunity to think.

“And I think normal water for the rest of us.” Dan looked at his family for confirmation; all three of them nodded, looking a little perplexed.

“Can I get you any wine or cocktails tonight?”

Dan handed the alcohol menu to his sister. “I’m sure we will, but I think the birthday girl needs a moment to decide.”

“Not a problem, I’ll be back with your waters.”

When the waitress left, Adaline whispered to Dan, “I’m not sure what to order, really. I’ve only had cheap vodka with my friends and boxed wine.”

Dan laughed, eyeing his parents to make sure he didn’t draw too much attention to Adaline’s confession. “Anything here will be better than those, I promise. How’d you like wine?”

Adaline flipped the menu over to look at the wine list. “It was fine? I liked the red one more than the white.”

Dan smiled and leaned closer to look at the menu over with her. “Me too. I recommend a chianti, since we are at an Italian restaurant.”

Adaline looked at the long list of chianti options on the menu. “Jesus, how do you pick one?”

With a shrug, Dan confessed, “Honestly, I usually pick based on which name I like best.”

Adaline stifled a giggle. “Okay, then, the Bellini Chianti it is. It’s the only one I can pronounce.”

“Perfect, that’s exactly how I’d make a decision too.”

Setting the wine list on the edge of the table, Dan and Adaline tuned back into the table’s conversation. Isabella was currently talking about her photoshoot with Vogue for the upcoming issue. Both of his parents were trying to show polite interest, but Dan could see the slightly glazed over look in his dad’s eyes and the forced smile on his mum’s face. Dan was saved from having to intervene in the conversation when the waitress brought their waters.

“Did you decide on something else to drink?”

Dan gestured to Adaline, encouraging her to order. “Um, we’ll have a bottle of the Bellini Chianti, please.”

Dan glanced around and did a quick mental tally. A singular bottle of wine meant, what? A third of a glass each? That won’t do. Surreptitiously, he tried to catch the waitress’ attention. He held up two fingers, shaking his head, hoping she’d understand that he wanted two bottles, not one. Whatever, I’m picking up the check anyways.

The waitress seemed to catch on to Dan’s message. “Okay, so two bottles of the Bellini? Five glasses?”

“Yes, please,” Dan answered before Isabella could do something humiliating, like order a separate white wine.

When the waitress left, Dan’s mum launched into a story about their family dog, who apparently had eaten the birthday cake the neighbors brought Adaline earlier in the week.

It was nice. Dan was happy to be able to spend time with his family again, happy to hear about what he’d missed out on. Between a mini UK tour and promotion events, he’d been traveling a lot of the past six months. By the time their wine came, the conversation had turned to the topic of Adaline’s uni applications. Apparently she’d turned them all in just a few weeks ago and was anxiously waiting to hear the results.

Dan caught the waitress’s attention before she could leave.“Sorry, but can I get a small cup of ice, please?” The waitress nodded and promised to be back with it in a minute.

“What do you need ice for, Danny? You hate cold red wine.” Isabella cooed, running her sharp nails lightly down his arm.

Dan winced at the comment and tried not to look at his parents. He couldn’t help feeling like Isabella was rapidly alternating between trying too hard and being, well, Isabella. Undoubtedly, his parents were seeing through the facade and catching glimpses of how difficult his girlfriend could be.

“It’s kind of cringey,” Dan responded. “I was having a coffee earlier and drank it too soon after it was made and burned my tongue. I’m such a fail.”

“Oh, were you at that coffee place again, babe?” Isabella sounded nice, curious even, on the surface level, but he could hear the tense annoyance underneath. I hope everyone else doesn’t realize.

Rather than risking saying the wrong thing — even though Dan technically didn’t have anything to apologize for — he simply nodded.

“Wow, babe, you’ve been spending an awful lot of time there recently.” This time, the judgment, the annoyance, the skepticism was transparent enough that other people noticed — or at least his mother did. Her head tilted to the side, eyes flickering back and forth between Dan and Isabella, as she silently questioned Isabella’s passive aggressive comment.

He knew Isabella was possessive when it came to his time, and he knew he’d been spending an increasing amount of it at Beans and Grind. She’d hinted a few times that she wasn’t thrilled about how much time he was spending at that mediocre coffee place when they could be going out somewhere nice together, but her hints were never this blatant.

Their waitress must have a fucking sixth sense or something though, because she appeared just as Dan’s mum was about to say something about the coffee shop comment.

“Can I start you with an appetizer?” The waitress was poised with her notebook in hand.

“Yeah,” Dan picked up his menu. “We’ll have the bruschetta and the caprese salad,” he said, rattling off the first two appetizers that caught his eye.

“I’ll get that right out.” The waitress nodded with a smile, politely excusing herself.

Relieved, Dan put his menu back down again, hoping that the interruption would be enough to encourage a subject change. Unfortunately for him, Isabella immediately started talking again. Fuck me.

Isabella ran her fingers through the ends of Adaline’s hair. “Love, why don’t we have a girls’ day for your birthday? You know, a shorter haircut and a manicure would really go a long way for you. ”

To her credit, Adaline laughed off the comment. “I prefer my hair long. I cut it short when I was 15 and it was a trainwreck. And I don’t usually bother with nail polish. It chips too quickly since I spend so much time working with robot parts.”

“You work with your hands? Ay, querida, you are much too pretty to have to work with your hands.”

Dan honestly wasn’t sure which family member was closest to breaking into a rant on feminism and gender roles.

Where the fuck is that waitress now?

Unfortunately, the waitress — and social salvation — was nowhere to be found. By the time the waitress finally did reappear with the appetizers, Isabella had gone on to say at least five more borderline offensive things, ranging from offering his mum a better hair colorist who knew how to naturally color in grey, to recommending her tailor to his dad because his suit just didn’t fit right.

While the rest of the family was enjoying their cheese and carbs, Isabella was looking over the menu. Eventually, she reached over primly with her fork and stabbed the single spring of (decorative) arugula on the plate of bruschetta.

“Danny,” she whined. “Why did you pick an Italian restaurant. You know I don’t eat carbs.”

Dan accidentally caught his sister’s eye. Her eyes rolled so dramatically that he could barely see anything but the whites of her eyes. It was a look he’d seen many times on camera and in gifs; apparently he made that exact face a lot. Like brother like sister, it would seem.

“Do you know if eggplant parmesan has carbs in it?” Dan had to look away from Adaline; they were both too close to losing their composure and laughing. Isabella didn’t seem to notice though. She was typing away on her phone, not even bothering to try to hide it beneath the table.

“Dannnyyyyy,” she whined. “Google says that eggplant parmesan has, like, seventeen grams of carbs in it! There is nothing on this menu that fits with my low carb diet.”

Next to him, Adaline was hiding her fit of laughter in her napkin. Meanwhile, Dan could feel, more than see, the outraged look on his mother’s face.

“Um…” Dan tried to find something, anything, to salvage this moment, but his mother cut him off first.

“Sorry dear, but in this family, our favorite food group is carbs.”

“Very true, Mum. I can barely go a meal without carbs, much less a day. I can’t imagine starting the day with anything other than a nice bowl of Crunchy Nut.” Adaline chimed in. She exaggeratedly scrutinized the menu. “Oh, Isabella, good news! There are some salad options that probably don’t have any carbs. Look, there’s a garden salad… wait, no that has croutons. I guess those count as a carb, huh? I suppose you could just push those off.”

Isabella was seething next to him. Given her history, Dan was honestly floored that she hadn’t taken the bait yet. Clearly she must be trying even harder to impress his family than he’d thought — not that she was doing a good job as it was, but jesus christ, she must really be trying if she wasn’t throwing a temper tantrum.

She primly folded her menu and sat it on the edge of the table. “You’re right.” Her voice was dripping with forced niceness. “I think I’ll have a garden salad, without the croutons of course. Thank you for suggesting it, Adalina.”

In almost perfect synchronization, all four of their heads snapped to look at her.

“It’s Adaline, actually.” Her voice was dripping sarcasm that she didn’t bother to hide. “But you’re welcome for the suggestion, Izzy.”

Could this be going any worse?

Mercifully, mercifully, the waitress chose that moment to come back to take their dinner orders, turning to Adaline first.

“I will have the fettucini alfredo, please. Does that come with bread?”

“Yes, miss,” the waitress responded.

Isabella may not have been taking the bait, but it was clear that Adaline was.

“How many pieces of bread does it come with?”

The waitress looked thrown by the question. “I believe two.”

Adaline pretended to seriously consider this information. “I don’t think that will do. What do you think, Danny, should we get an extra order of bread for the table?”

“Oh yes,” his dad chimed in, “that’s a lovely suggestion. Can you add extra cheese to it?”

Isabella was practically vibrating with anger. Never once in the eight months Dan had known her had he seen her this mad and not screaming. But she wasn’t. Her hands were folded in her lap — well, clenched, more like, and she ordered her meal through equally clenched teeth. But she wasn’t screaming.

“The garden salad. No croutons, no side of bread. Some of us care about our figure.”

Yikes, there it is.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just not very vain,” Adaline said with a shrug.

“I am not vain.” Isabella was on the verge of screaming now. “I am—”

“Anyway,” Dan cut in. “I going to Germany for a charity concert in two months, let’s talk about that.”

“What kind of charity is it?” His mother latched onto the conversation, whether it was because she was interested or because she also wanted to avoid a scene, he didn’t care.

“It’s a fundraiser for youth mental health services. I know I just got back from traveling a lot, but it’s a good cause that I’m passionate about, so I decided to do it.”

While Isabella seethed quietly, his family excitedly asked about the concert. What’s the charity’s name? Do you know who else is singing? Where in Germany?

“When exactly is it?”

“The 15th of March.”

“Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan.” Adaline tugged impatiently on the sleeve of his suit. “That’s a Saturday.”

Dan gasped in fake surprise. “Is it really? I had no idea.”

Adaline shot him an exasperated look. “Daaannnn…”

Chuckling, Dan crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows. “Do you want something, Adaline?”

“You know what I want.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Well,” Dan reached under his chair. “This was supposed to wait until after dessert, because that’s how birthdays work, but I guess you can open this now.”

Adaline’s eyes grew wide and she made grabby hands at the present. When Dan finally let her have it, she tore the paper off the small, rectangular box instantly.

“Oh my god.” In explanation, she held up a ticket for their parents to see. “Are you serious?”

“No, Addie, it’s a joke.” Dan deadpanned. Adaline was unamused. “Seriously though, I got a free VIP ticket for a plus one since I’m technically doing this for free.”

“Oh my god, this is the best birthday present ever!” Adaline threw her arms around Dan. “Thank you thank you thank you. When are we going?”

Dan laughed, quickly hugging his little sister back. He was glad he’d managed to get her a present she’d actually enjoy, and she had been bothering Dan for ages now to let her come along to one of his shows.

“I still have a few details to work out with them. I’m not sure how early I have to be there for rehearsals, and I was hoping we could coordinate with your school schedule. But I’ll book our plane tickets when we know.”

“I can miss a day. Or two. Mum, please tell him I can miss a few days of school!”

“Well…” Their mum pretended to contemplate. “I suppose it wouldn’t do any good to send you all the way to Munich if you can’t stay for a few extra days.” Instantly, Adaline launched into a negotiation about just how many days she was allowed to miss, while their mum laughed and played along.

Suddenly, Dan felt a sharp jab in the top of his foot. The stab of a fancy stiletto heel.

“I thought you were going to take me to that concert,” Isabella hissed once she had Dan’s attention.

Dan’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I never said that. Why would you think that?” he grumbled back.

“I just assumed you’d want to have a romantic weekend away with your girlfriend, not some weird vacation with your kid sister.”

“I told you I wanted to spend more time with her!” Dan glanced around, noticing that the conversation between Adaline and his parents was dwindling. “Look, Izzy, can we not do this here please?”

“Fine.” Isabella huffed, turning away from Dan. Instead of continuing to fight Dan, she seemed to throw her energy into trying to win over his parents again. She reached out and pulled Dan’s mum’s hand across the table, holding it up to her face.

“Oh, Mrs. Howell, I adore your ring.”

“Thank you. Dan got me this one for Christmas.”

Isabella rotated her hand back a forth a few times, evaluating the shine of the ring, before releasing her hold. “It’s lovely.” She turned her attention back to Dan. “Just so you know, babe, I prefer larger, single set diamonds. With more clarity and at least two karats.”

Dan could feel the color draining from his face as the table went deathly quiet. What in the actual fuck?? He felt like introducing her to his parents was rushed, and she was thinking about engagement rings?

He had never in his life been so happy to see a goddamn salad than at that moment when the waitress sat down Isabella’s plate in front of her. The rest of their food followed, and everyone was distracted by their meals — or at least pretended to be. There were a few minutes of awkward silence, but eventually the conversation found a different topic.

The rest of the meal didn’t go any better. The entire time, Dan could feel how hard Isabella was trying to impress his family, but she was going about it the wrong way. Instead of trying to get to know them, or trying to build a connection with them, she spent the whole time bragging about her modeling career. Adaline didn’t help the situation by continuing to poke fun at Isabella — Dan really shouldn’t have found it as funny as he did.

Isabella, surprisingly, was enduring it with a tight smile. Despite having nearly erupted into multiple fits throughout the night, she managed to keep a hold on her temper. The only sign of her irritation was her grip on her wine glass becoming firmer and firmer with every joke Adaline made at Isabella’s expense. The knuckles of her hand holding the glass were actually turning white with the pressure — Dan seriously considered taking the glass from her hand, scared she would snap the stem in half. She hardly talked to Dan, though, clearly still angry with him for giving his one VIP ticket to his sister instead of her. Honestly though, Dan was thankful for her silence.

Finally, dinner drifted to an end, and they ordered dessert. Over the tiramisu — which Isabella rudely refused to eat, of course — Adaline opened the rest of her presents. Dan was amazed that Isabella bothered to bring a present for Adaline. It was obvious, though, that Isabella didn’t remember anything that Dan had ever told her about Adaline, because if she had, she would have known that Adaline would never have any desire for a £50 card to Victoria’s Secret.

This dinner literally could not end fast enough.

As soon as the car door shut, the smile fell from Dan’s face.

“What the fuck was that, Isabella?”

Isabella’s eyes were wide and innocent. “What was what?”

“That!” Dan waved his hand in the general direction of the restaurant. “That… performanceback there. I don’t know what was worse, you insulting my family or you showing off to them.”

“Danny, I think you’re being a bit dramatic,” Isabella replied, rolling her eyes “Your mother gave me a big hug and said that it was lovely to meet me when we left.”

Dan dragged his hands down his face. “Let’s not talk about this right now.”

Rather than dropping the conversation, though, Isabella placed her hand on his knee, slowly sliding it up to gently caress his inner thigh.

“You’re right, baby. Why don’t we focus on something else, something we can agree on.”

For once, Dan really didn’t want to have sex with Isabella. Frankly, he didn’t even want to look at her. He unceremoniously shoved her hand off his thigh.

“Not tonight, Izzy.” His voice was cold, harsher than he’d ever heard it be.

Desperate for some space, Dan would have been content with the rest of the car ride being spent in silence. But space had never been Isabella’s forte. In fact, most of their fights began because Isabella refused to let things go or let Dan have a moment to fucking breathe.

So Isabella wasn’t silent. She moved from asinine topic to asinine topic, needing no encouragement from Dan. The evening’s events were playing on loop in his head, but he kept coming back to that terrifying moment where Isabella described her ideal fucking wedding ring.

What the fuck was she thinking??

When the Uber pulled up to Isabella’s apartment, she tried a second time to entice Dan. “Why don’t you come upstairs, babe? I’ll put on that little thing you like and we can do whatever you want.”

Dan leaned forward and gave the Uber driver his address.

thank you, as always, to the wonderful @auroraphilealis for helping, as always.

please like and/or reblog if you like it! as a reminder, i update once a week!

[[next chapter]]

#phan au #au #slow burn #singer!dan #barista!phil #phanfic #phanfiction #phan #iminclinedtowriting #reposted from iminclinedtowriting #rip my decision to split up my blogs #love yourself #ly

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survey1000 · 6 years

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92. I try not to miss you, I try to let go, but in the end, you’re always on my mind.

When’s the last time you ate bread? Today at noon.

What’s the last movie you watched on your own? That’s a good question, probably the Harry Potter movies.

What about the last movie you watched with another person? The Notebook.

What about the last movie you saw at the cinema? Was it good? IT I think, and it was pretty good, just not all the clown parts lol.

Do you attend school, college, or uni? Nope, graduated high school almost 3 years ago and still don’t know what to do with my life lol.

What do you study, wherever you study? I would like to study psychology.

What industry do you want to be a part of when you’re older? Good question.

Are you a Hugh Grant or Colin Firth kinda girl? No idea who either of them are lol.

Kisses on the cheek or the neck? Not sure, I don’t get either #foreveralone haha.

How many girls can you trust? My mom and Bekah.

What about guys? My dad and my papa.

How do you earn your keep? I work my ass off full time.

If you could speak three different languages fluently, what would they be? English, French, and Spanish or Italian.

How many texts have you ever sent on your current phone? Oh god, no idea lol.

Who do you usually text the most? Mom or Bekah.

Baths or showers? Showers.

Cheese or tomato? Cheese.

Shaved legs or shaved arms? Legs since I don’t shave my arms.

Did you know they’re currently shaving their arms some people on this years xfactor? Oh?

Early nights or early mornings? I work for 5:30am so its usually both for me haha.

How many coats do you own? 3 I think. What about shoes? Not many actually, maybe 3 or 4.

One word to describe your most recent ex? Jackass.

Fried, poached, boiled or scrambled eggs? Scrambled.

Have you ever been surprised with breakfast in bed? Nope.

Where, in your current country, would you like to live, other than where you do now? The valley.

Where wouldn’t you want to live? In the city, too many people.

Has your life begun? Not really lol.

Do you like snow? Yes!!! I wish that we would have a white Christmas but for quite a few years we’ve been getting a lot of snow after Christmas, it sucks.

Have you always got good grades? They were decent. I had a grade average of 92% in grade 11.

Do you like sheer clothing? Not for me lol.

Name three things that are over-rated: The new music that’s been coming out since 2013-2014, the Kardashians, and name brands.

List four things about your facial appearance: I have green eyes, natural full lips, I have a birth mark on the left side of my cheek, and I have a lip piercing on my left side.

List four things about your general appearance: I’m 5′5, I’m a brunette, 5 tattoos, and I have another birth mark on my left hand.

List four things you like about yourself: I’m fairly easy to get along with, my eyes, I’m very loyal to my family and friends, and I’m pretty artistic.

List four things you dislike about yourself: Always paranoid, my weight, being antisocial, and being awkward when having to socialize with new people.

List four of your favourite TV programs: WWE, Supernatural, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Crime Watch Daily.

List four of your favourite foods/drinks: Tacos, pizza, iced capps, and chocolate milk.

This quiz is pretty different to others, right? Finally some different questions lol.

Cats or dogs? Both but I only have cats though.

Llamas or sheep? Sheep.

Have you ever seen anyone famous in the street? No.

Are you hungry right now? Nope.

Do any of your friends really irritate you at times? Well yeah lol that’s our job.

What do you think of couples who have entire albums just for them, with pictures of them just randomly at home, doing nothing that really requires a photo? Whatever floats their boat lol.

Can you cook? I probably could if I wanted to ahaha.

Can you iron? I’m not sure, probably lol.

Can you work the microwave? I hope so lol.

Can you work the washing machine? I still live with my parents and mom don’t trust me with it LOL.

Do you like your photo being taken? Hell no.

Do you like taking photos of yourself? When I pretty myself up, yes.

Have you ever got into a club, whilst being underage? Nope, I barely go to bars now that I’m of age lol.

How many magazines do you buy a month? None.

How many of them are car-related? -

What about fashion? -

Any celeb gossip ones? -

Who will do this note after you? Idk.

What pets do you have? 4 cats.

It’s getting pretty cold now, isn’t it? Do you have the heating on? I live in Canada, we don’t find it cold until November really lol.

Do you watch Hollyoaks? Nope.

Do you like Silus? No idea who that is.

Who’s your favourite? -

Who’s your least favourite? -

Do you watch Gossip Girl? Ugh no lol.

Who’s your favourite girl? -

What about guy? -

Last gig you went to? None.

Next gig your going to? No idea.

Favourite colour? Purple.

Are you regularly tired? Ugh yes lol.

Are you excited to live on your own? Nope lol.

When do you plan on moving out? No idea really, I would like to be in a serious, committed relationship when I do, and fuck knows when that’s gonna happen.

Do you have a onesie? I wish!

#survey

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adhdbuzz · 4 years

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(Quick note - I have copied this over from my main blog - this is my content...)

ADHD, Neurodivergence, Identity…

I want to start blogging about some of my experiences with mental illness and neurodivergence. Two words, that before this year, I would never of used in relation to myself.

One of the most fascinating and somewhat crippling aspects of learning you are neurodivergent, is becoming so hyperaware of your thoughts, actions, personality, wondering what’s you and what’s your diagnosis, (or what you are imagining/projecting because of your diagnosis). I likely drive my friends mad talking or joking about it, but it’s hard to articulate the complete upheaval that learning this about yourself creates. Suddenly your entire history and personhood is re-defined. You have to change your narrative. I spent most of my teenagehood and childhood feeling removed/estranged from the people and world around me. More than feeling an ‘outcast,’ I felt myself an alien. I believed (and felt that others believed), that I was incredibly lazy and did not have the drive to puruse my passions and potential. This left such a hole in my heart and self-confidence. Imagine that you have this great love for something - or many things, but can’t even motivate yourself to take one single step toward it. You lose interest in every hobby you’ve ever taken up and you don’t understand why you can’t just do the thing. It seems easy for everyone else? What am I missing? So you compensate. Suddenly (and very briefly), you are really into note-taking and study blogs and watching countless hours of videos on how to get organised and ‘change your life’ and you imagine what kind of person you could become. Or you start every new year or semester with the goal to just stay on top of things, just remember, just write it down - everyone else does it? Why can’t you? Inevitably, that falls away.

What happens when you can’t maintain this? When suddenly those three assignments are due, you’ve dropped out of your class/hobby, you’ve missed another opportunity, avoided another goal and heard another person tell you, ‘you just need to get organised…’ ‘ you’ve got so much potential, you just need to apply yourself!’ “I don’t understand how you forgot/didn’t do the thing/didn’t write it down!”

I don’t think I can ever effectively describe the impact that this has had on me. There is something so devastating in not understanding there is something different about your brain during the really sensitive, formative years of your life. Because you end up spending so much time trying to work out why you are not like everyone else, why you struggle with things that most people find easy, why it is a constant battle to stay afloat, to have people angry with you/criticising you for something that you both feel should be in your control, but neurologically isn’t.

ADHD is so severly misunderstood. It’s invisible and it is crippling. The image of the little boy in class who can’t sit still or stop talking is such a prevalent and damaging stereotype. Before I got my diagnosis and before I even had looked into ADHD, I spent hours researching what could be wrong with me and doing online ‘tests’. These ranged from anxiety, to depression, Bipolar, PMDD and Personality Disorders, (strangely enough, ADHD often exists alongside other mental illnesses and I was diagnosed with co-morbidities…) But I think this gives a degree of context to what undiagnosed ADHD feels like, because it’s not someone who wont shut up, or sit still. To me it feels like everyone else got a manual on how to be a person and I didn’t. Often times, it’s the depressed, anxious, struggling teenager or young adult, who feels so inadequate, who feels like an alien, who can’t even trust their own passions or interests. Who is in a constant battle to meet the expectations of themselves and those around them. Who’s socially awkward or uncomfortable, who’s disocciated, who can’t follow a conversation, or instructions, who suffers in loud spaces, who struggles with small talk, strangers, shopping centres, keeping themselves and their space clean, uni work, school work, chores, family, friendships, relationships, their identity, their passions, there interests, their personality, regualating their emotions

ADHD is so exhausting, because it’s a constant battle to just meet the base line. Every thing you do from the moment you get up, til the moment you are asleep (and even then) is impacted by it.

Say you have an assignment, and a couple of chores to do on one day. Not a big deal right? Ok so you set an alarm for 8am, except your brain didn’t turn off until 4am the night before, so you get up at mid day, you go to put the washing in, but you forgot to turn on yesterdays load, so you do that first, you go to make a morning coffee, you check the time, it’s 12.30 - where did half an hour go? I just got up?! (Time-blindness). You make your coffee and drink it while checking social media, which sucks you in, because your dopamine depleted brain craves stimuli! You check the time, its 1pm, you tell yourself you’ll scroll for ten more minutes, and that ten minute excuse repeats a few times. It’s 1.30 and now your angry, because why didn’t you have the self control! (Hint: you have a disordered executive function). You put your mug on the sink, promising you’ll come back to it later. You go back to the laundry, you realise you forgot to turn the dryer on. You go to do your assignment, you clear your desk, open laptop, but now you don’t know where to start - you can’t naturally prioritise tasks, or break down the individual steps that need to be done in order to complete an assignment, you must do this with the ‘skills’ you have actively had to learn from a coach, internet etc. It’s like trying to bake a cake with no measuring cups, or recipe! So now you are looking at the assessment outline, and what you’ve worked on already, and trying to close last nights 200 tabs of hyperfixation. You read the outline 5 times without actually reading it, on the 6th you try really hard, you’re fidgeting in your chair, it’s an almost physical pain having to sit there and read it. Your eyes feel glazy, there’s too many words and they look like a big smudge on the page. You quickly check messages (dopamine hit), you come back to the outline. Its been half an hour, you still haven’t started. It’s about 2pm, you havent had lunch or breakfast. You go make a tea and come back. Maybe you need backround music? You spend another 20 minutes finding the right playlist, except its not right because it’s either too stimulating or not stimulating enough. You find another playlist, or you go down the rabbit whole of some movie soundtrack you’ve been meaning to look at. It’s 2.45. The washing! You go back and finally get yesterdays load in the dryer and start the load you meant to do today. Might as well make another tea now that I’m up. Might as well check Facebook now I’ve been interrupted. I’ll start at 3.30. 3.30 rolls around, your sibling gets home from school. Noise, talking, lunchbox rattling, bags being unpacked. Distraction. The noise is painful, your executive function (the impaired part of the ADHD brain) is also responsible for emotional regulation. Suddenly you are so fiercly angry at the noise being made in the rest of the house. It’s so over stimulating it feels like sandpaper on your brain and ears, you feel sick to your stomach with rage, you are crying, sobbing. All because people in the other room are talking. You lay on your bed trying to calm the overwhelm and increasing stress at not having done your assignment. It’s 4pm. Mum asks why you left your mug out, or didn’t do the dishes (you were too busy thinking about doing the washing!) She notes the machine still going and tells you that you wont have time to put it in the dryer tonight, you’ll have to do it tomorrow. But you need those clothes for tomorrow, you’re having breakfast with a friend. You’ll have to reschedule. You message your friend, and repeat the standard script “god I am so sorry, I’m such a mess, can we do later in the morning? I’ve got to do chores…” they can’t reschedule, you cancel. You sit back down with the assignment. You fidget. It feels like a physical pain to have to sit there and force yourself to do it. You’ll do it tomorrow. You pack up, and get ready for bed, removing the pile on your bed back to your desk. Your sheets are unmade, it’s uncomfortable and you feel agitated. You’ve forgotten to brush your teeth, or clean your face. You scroll online, or hyperfocus on a new hobby, project, idea, that wont interest you tomorrow, until 3am. You set your alarm for 8am…

This is just one small example and snapshot of ADHD and the impact of Executive Dysfunction. Here are a couple of examples/descriptions of how it feels from the ADHD subreddit.

“Schrodinger’s ADHD: Everything is interesting and boring at the same time. Every subject, every hobby.”

‘The Two ADHD Moods: I can’t do it / I can’t stop doing it. The two types of ADHD time: Now / Not Now The two ADHD memory modes: I literally can not recall the words that just came out of my mouth / I can recite the opening paragraph of every single magic tree house book.’

I also want to talk Neurodivergence, as this is another misconception when it comes to ADHD. In the way that Autism, Tourettes, Dyscalculia, Dysgraphia are all forms of neurodivergence, so is ADHD. ADHD is not a behavoural issue, but a neurobiological developmental disorder. ADHD also has many overlapping traits with Autism, (not to be confused as the same, ADHD is not on the spectrum). These include, sensory overwhelm/sensitivity, memory issues, hyperfocus/hyperfixation, interrupting conversation/trouble waiting in turn, issues reading/recognising social cues, stimming, perseveration, (getting ‘stuck’ on or repeating a thought, topic or idea, even if the conversation has moved on), and avoidance/trouble with eye contact.

To be clear, ADHD is not on the spectrum, a distinguishing feature between these neurotypes is the cause of the symptom. For example someone with ADHD may not recognise social cues due to inattention/overwhelm/impulsivity, where as someone with autism may struggle to interpret these social cues.

It is important for ADHD to be recognised as a neurotype, and not a behavoural issue. When discussing ADHD traits with a neurotypical person, the response is often along the lines of ‘well everyone is a little distracted/unmotivated/lazy/forgetful/late sometimes.’ My response to that ‘Would you say that everyone is a bit ‘socially awkward/shy’ sometimes to an autistic person? Or ‘everyone has trouble reading sometimes’ to a dyslexic person?’ I imagine the answer would be no, as it is understood that these traits are a consistent, uncontrollable and debilitating.

The more I have learnt and read about ADHD in the context of neurodivergence, the more I have tried to recognise the ways I hide or detract from my symptoms, by ‘masking’. This has included, taking on certain personas or feeding someone elses assumption about me as ‘the messy one,’ ‘the disorganised one,’ ‘the chaotic one.’ In the past I have almost embraced these stereotypes about myself, as it gave me a sense of identity, a framework with which to see and understand myself. Frustration and anger masked over-stimulation/overwhelm, I was not able to recognise the root of these feelings and I also learnt to fidget/stim in the ‘right’ way. When engaging in small talk with someone I am unfamiliar with, I often resort to mimicing or imitating how I have seen other people interact, speak etc and I am conscious of eye contact, (too much, too little?). I catch myself looking at people/staring too much and am constantly trying to gauge what the right amount is, where else to look, etc. I struggle a lot with taking turns in convesation, as I don’t always know where to interject, or I worry I will forget the thought, this has led me to just stay silent instead in conversations and present myself as serious, or elusive.

That’s really all I have to say for today. I think overall ADHD is far more complex and challenging than it is perceived to be, and these stereotypes are so harmful to people who have it and are trying to navigate not only their symptoms, but a world that is not understanding nor knowledgeable of the limitations and struggles of ADHD or neurodivergence.

I have a lot more to say on all this and will try and write more about this going forward. DM/comment etc if you have any thoughts or criticism of anything I have said. Disclaimer, I am still learning and may make mistakes regarding information, or discussing other neurotypes !

Here are some links you might want to check out if you have/think you have ADHD or you have a friend or family member with ADHD. I also highly, highly recommend the ADHD subreddit!

ADHD explained simply:

https://www.additudemag.com/what-is-adhd-symptoms-causes-treatments/

“ADHD is a developmental impairment of the brain’s executive functions. People with ADHD have trouble with impulse-control, focusing, and organization.

“’Attention deficit’ is, some experts assert, a misleading name. “Attention deregulation” might be a more accurate description since most people with ADHD have more than enough attention — they just can’t harness it in the right direction at the right time with any consistency.”

Comorbidities https://adhd-institute.com/burden-of-adhd/epidemiology/comorbidities/ “The majority of adults with ADHD have a diagnosed or undiagnosed comorbid psychiatric disorder, which can complicate diagnosis and treatment of ADHD.1-3“ ADHD and Autism https://www.spectrumnews.org/features/deep-dive/decoding-overlap-autism-adhd/ “A growing number of genetic studies support the notion of at least some shared causation between autism and ADHD. But imaging studies comparing brain structures and connectivity have yielded a confusing mix of similarities and differences. And some behavioral research has highlighted the possibility that outwardly similar features mask distinct underlying mechanisms. Inattention in a person with autism, for example, might result from sensory overload, and apparent social problems in someone with ADHD may reflect impulsivity. Perseveration https://www.understood.org/en/friends-feelings/common-challenges/self-control/perseveration-adhd-and-learning-differences

“(Kids) who perseverate often say the same thing or behave in the same way over and over again. And they do it past the point where it makes sense or will change anything. It’s like they’re stuck in a loop that they can’t get out of.”

ADHD and social skills https://chadd.org/for-adults/relationships-social-skills/#:~:text=Social%20Skills%20in%20Adults%20with,their%20inattention%2C%20impulsivity%20and%20hyperactivity.

“Social skills are generally acquired through incidental learning: watching people, copying the behavior of others, practicing, and getting feedback. Most people start this process during early childhood. Social skills are practiced and honed by “playing grown-up” and through other childhood activities. The finer points of social interactions are sharpened by observation and peer feedback.

Children with ADHD often miss these details. They may pick up bits and pieces of what is appropriate but lack an overall view of social expectations. Unfortunately, as adults, they often realize “something” is missing but are never quite sure what that “something” may be.”

ADHD and stimming https://www.betterhelp.com/advice/adhd/repetitive-behaviors-in-children-with-adhd-stimming-fidgeting-and-what-these-actions-may-mean/

“Many believe that stimming and fidgeting is reserved for those on the autism spectrum. However, it is now known that children with ADHD are just as likely to use repetitive body movements to self-stimulate. In fact, autistic stimming and non-autistic stimming are different. The main difference is that those with ADHD typically only use stimming for a short period of time while they are trying to concentrate. For example, someone with ADHD may stim for under an hour while those with autism will stim for several hours at a time. While stimming and fidgeting are typically seen as tapping or rocking, there are many other things that children with ADHD do to self-stimulate. There are actually five different variations of stimming, which include olfactory, vestibular, visual, tactile, and auditory.”

#adhd #neurodivergent #neurodiversity

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flytoniall-blog · 7 years

Text

Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop - Wednesday Morning

Read parts 1, 2 & 3

“Isn’t in obvious?” Gemma groaned and banged her head against the espresso machine melodramatically, spurring a laugh from her co-worker, Mason.

“Must not be to him,” he muttered, placing a hand on her shoulder, “He’d be daft not to want to take you out.” Gemma rolled her eyes. “What? I heard you put out on the first date!” he chuckled and dodged her evil glare by going to take a customer’s order.

Gemma claimed to be a single, independent woman who didn’t need a man. However, that does not mean she didn’t want a man--specifically a man with a golden laugh and glowing eyes. Niall Horan might be the nicest lad she’s met in West London Coffee Co. and also the most clueless. She flirts with him every day in the most obvious way. Why else would she call him Scottish Neil? That melodious accent could not be from anyone without a native Irish tongue. She should know. Her father lives in Dublin, and she spent every summer there during childhood.

She sighed and looked at the clock before changing her glance to the door. It was 8:30AM, and she knew he had to be somewhere by 9:00AM every weekday morning. He had missed his morning fix a few times, but after their talk last night, she thought maybe he’d come.

“So the pop-star’s really going to save our open mic-night?” her boss, Emily, interrupted her thoughts. She was a tall redhead with a very blunt and to-the-point personality.

“Yes,” Gemma responded nervously. Emily always made her nervous. Perhaps it was the way her eyes lowered to meet hers in an almost annoyed fashion. “He seemed excited about it.”

“Well, that’s great.” This may be the first time Emily told her she was doing something well. Usually their conversations consisted of her listing all the things she was doing wrong. “Just make sure it’s a controllable audience,” she added before walking to the office in the back.

Gemma hadn’t thought about how many people could potentially show up to see solo Niall on hiatus. Slow Hands and This Town were killing the charts, and his fans were very dedicated. She considered asking Niall next time she spoke to him about having it a secret show like the one Harry described on her favorite show, Late Late Show with James Corden. Before she could plan that, however, Niall needed to show up. She checked the clock again. It didn’t look like he was.

Hours of making coffee, serving muffins, and placing orders later, the bell chimed once more at 10:44AM. Gemma had stopped glancing up many customers ago. She did not expect to see him there, and Niall did not expect Mason to give two thumbs-up and a wink upon entering.

“Hi,” she spoke quietly.

“Good morning, Emma.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nice to see you, Neil.” Mason fake gagged in the corner at their awful flirting. Could they be anymore juvenile, he internally inquired.

“Can you take a break to talk about Saturday.”

“Technically, it’s work-related. Lets head out to the patio seating, where it’s quiet.” He followed her before they sat down in iron chairs across from each other. “Thank you so much again,” Gemma reminded.

“Anything to keep my favorite coffee shop alive,” Niall told her, “This place is packed in the morning. Why is it going out-of business?”

“Well, not many people are here during the day and evening. My boss is thinking about cutting hours and laying people off if we can’t get regular business.”

Niall considered this for a moment. Before pulling out his phone and taking a picture of the West London Coffee Co.’s sign. “I’m going to tweet this when I leave. I bet more people will show up; this place is pretty hidden.”

Gemma smiled. “You don’t have to do that--”

“--I want to. Don’t want you to be without a job.”

She laughed. “Well I’ll probably quit soon. I love the coffee, but I graduate uni next semester. Time to get a proper office job,” she sighed.

Niall looked at her the way Gemma always wanted someone to when she spoke. Every bit of his attention was on her. She felt important in his eyes. He scrunched his eyebrows. “Is that what you want?”

Gemma had been planning to become an accountant, like her mother, uncles and aunts. That whole side of the family was full of white-collar professionals. She was brainwashed into thinking that a career in the arts wasn’t practical. So she majored in accounting, and she was decent enough at solving financial problems and entering numbers into excel and data bases. The pay would be great, and it’d be predictable hours for the rest of her life. The only issue was that she hated it. She hated how when she closed her eyes she saw excel cells, and she hated how empty she felt after studying her business textbooks.

“No one’s every asked me that before,” Gemma confessed.

“Not even your Mum?” This caused Gemma to blabber on for ten minutes about how her whole family was full of accountants and finance agents, how much she hated it, and that she didn’t know what else to. After she was finished, Niall asked, “Well what does your dad do?”

“Owns a music/record shop in Dublin.”

Niall looked taken back. Gemma had name-dropped Dublin on purpose in hopes of gaining connection. She figured he had been there before. He grinned widely when they conversed about the name and location.

“I used to go there on the weekends when I was a teenager,” he rambled, “I loved looking through the record stacks for hours. Would barely buy anything, but it was all a good fun. Are you Irish? Cause you sound British?”

“Sort-of. My parents are divorced. He moved back to Dublin when I was eight.”

“Mine too.” Her arms were crossed on the table separating the two. Niall reached over and placed his large, calloused hand gently on her forearm. “It sucks.” She didn’t flinch. Gemma was trying not to hyperventilate that her longtime crush, Niall, was touching her. Does this count as making a move?

The rest of her break was spent speaking about her summers in Ireland, their favorite movies, and anything in between. They planned that he would play about an hour, charge ten euros for tickets which would be donated to the coffee shop, and announce the show a little before. He assured Gemma his management could handle the possibility of too many people showing up and planning the announcement. “It’s going to be a lot of fun,” he mused.

“I’m excited to see you live. I saw you a couple years ago here in London.”

“Really? I didn’t think you were a fan.”

“Who isn’t,” she chuckled. He blushed.

Niall didn’t want to leave, but he was already receiving text messages from his assistant that he needed to start heading to a photo shoot. He loved speaking to Gemma. After their conversation, he felt like he really knew her, and she hoped that she knew him: the Niall that likes indie coffee shops and playing golf, not the Niall that has millions of twitter followers and multiple hit-singles.

“Thanks for coming,” Gemma said and stood up. She didn’t know the proper greeting to give. Was she supposed to hug him? Or shake his hand? Luckily, Niall answered that for her.

He wrapped his arms around her for a couple seconds longer than necessary. Ducked his head down and placed it into her strawberry scented hair and squeezed. He almost kissed her cheek, but stopped himself. Gemma was not his girlfriend.

At least not yet anyway.

#1dff #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fanfic #niall fic #niall mini series #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #niall ou #filaacs

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