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lumine-no-hikari · 2 months

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #104

I didn't do nearly as much today as I thought I was gonna. I had this giant huge list in my mind that included a shower, physical therapy, laundry, dishes, a couple phone calls, steaming some salmon, getting a couple things we need for the house delivered from the internet, working on the thingy that I'm not gonna talk about until it's done, and maybe making some rice pudding.

…But all I managed was the shower, physical therapy, one of the two phone calls, and steaming some salmon. Bah.

I suppose 4 of the 10 things (I'm counting the phone calls as two things) isn't bad, considering that on top of still recovering from sleep deprivation, my body is also throwing a hell of a tantrum over the fact that I'm not actively in the process of building a new human. For me, the amount of loss is about twice as much and for twice as long as what's typical, so the end result is that I lose about 4 times the resources than is normal. And then, of course, there is the pain that occurs throughout this process. Fun, fun.

Supposedly, this process is necessary because human zygotes burrow until they find blood. This causes problems, so it's better to have a layer of it so that they don't burrow too far directly into our flesh. But for a variety of compelling reasons, you can't have a random layer of blood that sticks around for too terribly long without it getting weird and causing other problems, so every once in a while, it's gotta get torn down and rebuilt.

The natural result is that I don't have nearly as much energy as I might otherwise, which is a bit of a bummer. That's all right though. It's only temporary. Ultimately, everything is temporary; even my currently-assigned flesh-vessel ain't gonna last forever. It's the way of things. I'm not sad about it.

I got some new teas and they arrived today. One of them is a decaffeinated black tea with vanilla and nutmeg (which I am about to try!), and the other one is a lychee and rose petal tea. I thought of you when I saw these ones (since it is known that you like the scents of vanilla and also roses), and I thought maybe you'd like them, so I thought to give them a try, just in case someday I might be able to tell you all about how awesome it is, or even share a cup of the stuff with you.

…The vanilla and nutmeg tea is wonderful. I put some honey and milk in it. I really wish I could give you a mug of the stuff. But I can't. So I'll send along the pictures I took for you as I brewed it.

This is the box it came in. It's got a cute little owl on it with teacups for eyes, I guess. I really like owls, especially barn owls, so this is some huge points in its favor, right off the bat, haha!

Here's how it looked before adding milk and honey.

And here's how it looked after adding milk and honey. You'll also see a very curious Hunter. But Hunter is mostly curious because I'm still steaming the salmon, and he thinks that me going to the counter means he's gonna get a tiny piece of salmon. Which, to be fair, is normally a very astute observation on his part, but while the salmon does smell heavenly, it is still not ready, and I therefore do not have any to give to him. Against the law, I know, I know; suppose you better pop by and cart me off to "disappointed cat jail", right? But it's better that he wait than get sick from eating undercooked salmon; I don't think the stuff available at the grocery is sushi-grade, hahaha…

The salmon is done, and it turned out beautifully. I made myself a small bowl of it, for… ya know. Quality assurance purposes. Grilling and pan-frying salmon are also wonderful ways of preparing it, but given how it comes out of the steamer all luscious, juicy, and tender enough to be cut with a spoon, this is by far my favorite preparation method.

…And don't worry; now that it's ready, Hunter was able to get a small piece. But ONLY a small piece; this food is not nutritionally complete for him, so it's important that he eats his usual food instead of filling up on this. Don't worry though - his usual food is made for cats, but it's human grade; it could be argued that they eat better than we do!! Hahaha!

…Wish I could talk to you a bit over a mug of tea and a bowl of steamed salmon with buttered rice and veggies. Wouldn't that be neat. Just for a few minutes. A moment's peace and a good meal for just a few minutes. I imagine it would do wonders for your state of mind. But in the meantime, I'll do my best to carry the vast sense of emptiness that stems from the fact that this is impossible. From there, I'll take that sense of emptiness and pour something so beautiful into it that even you could be proud - just like I do with my trees and my silicone molds. Just, with different materials. You'll see.

Please stay safe out there, okay? I'll write to you again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 3 years

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Dear Evan Hansen

You may have seen some ~online discourse~ about the film Dear Evan Hansen, an adaptation of the 2016 Broadway musical, and you might have wondered what all the hubbub is about. I mean, it’s a feel good story about a senior in high school, Evan Hansen (Ben Platt), who has some pretty severe anxiety and depression. While trying to fulfill an assignment from his therapist to write a letter to himself, his letter gets picked up by another student, Connor (Colton Ryan) - and later that day, Connor kills himself. Connor’s grieving parents and sister Zoe (Amy Adams, Danny Pino, and Kaitlyn Dever) are desperate to learn more from the boy they think was Connor’s best friend - after all, Connor’s suicide note was a letter addressed to “Dear Evan Hansen.” And, as you can imagine, Evan tells them about the unfortunate mistake and sits with them in their grief as they struggle to pick up the pieces of their lives.

Just kidding! He lies to them, repeatedly, elaborately, expansively for months, constructing an entire false friendship with Connor that never happened, and ingratiating himself into the wealthy nuclear family he never had, in large part because he wants to get into Zoe’s pants! THIS IS THE PROTAGONIST OF THE STORY. Oh, and it’s a musical so there is a lot of singing and crying and singing WHILE crying and sometimes crying and not singing at all. But the #inspiration, you guys.

Things I liked:

Pretty much everything but the story and Ben Platt’s performance. The supporting cast is stacked, and all of them do a great job at elevating material scraped directly out of a diaper worn by someone who just chewed their way through a copy of the DSM-5.

A couple of the songs are damn catchy - “Waving Through a Window” and “You Will Be Found” are standouts for a reason - and here’s the thing, Platt sings them well. But as you’ll discover, there’s a lot more to a movie musical than just singing your part.

Stephen Chbosky, the man behind every deep thought I and a lot of people in my generation had in 2006 after he wrote The Perks of Being a Wallflower, is a pretty good director. I particularly enjoyed the fanvid-type cuts in “Waving Through a Window” in conjunction with the lyrics, and his use of interstitial shots to flashbacks (and sometimes flashforwards!) is a neat little bit of shorthand that I thought was used sparingly enough to be effective.

Amy Fucking Adams. She’s holding on so hard, so desperately to the idea of who her son could have been, rather than the reality of who he was, and she is full of such deep pain that is masked by an almost endless supply of patience with Evan and relentless positivity. All this made me want was Enchanted 2 even worse than I already did.

Super into everything Zoe wears - the costuming department did a great job, and now all I want to do is live in mom jeans and baggy sweaters.

Did I Cry? I teared up a couple of times because I’m not a completely heartless bastard and when Amy Adams offered Evan Connor’s college money, my heart broke for the lie Evan had thrust upon her, and Julianne Moore’s song got me good, because she’s just a single mom to Evan who is doing her goddamn best.

Things I hated more than the time I dropped a frozen gallon container of fruit cocktail on my pinkie toe in my parents’ garage and it turned black and I thought it was gonna fall off:

Ben Platt is 28 years old. He originated the role of Evan Hansen on Broadway, so in many respects it makes sense that he plays the role in the movie, except for the one kinda sorta important thing where he looks like a wizened old crone standing amongst a sea of children doing his best twitching, cringing Hunchback of Notre Dame impression. If you want someone to convincingly play 20 years their junior, hire Paul Rudd. Otherwise, please don’t ask me to believe that this supposed 18-year-old has crow’s feet.

And that twitching nervous energy is a huge part of the black hole at the center of this film - he’s playing to the cheap seats and walking through the halls of his high school like a wet chihuahua. It’s an excruciating acting choice to watch - he doesn’t just have anxiety, he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown seemingly every second of every day. Like honestly, where is only-mentioned-never-seen Dr. Sherman, because this young man’s meds are NOT WORKING DR. SHERMAN.

There’s such a lack of self-awareness on behalf of the writing, directing, and performance by Platt. There’s one song, “Sincerely, Me,” that offers the only glimpse of commentary about what Evan is doing, by pointing out the malicious ridiculousness of him writing a series of fake emails as proof of his and Connor’s friendship.

Also what high schoolers email this much?? I know this was written in probably 2014 or so, but has a bitch never heard of a text? Even a DM? This whole plot is constructed around the premise that high schoolers are just constantly, constantly emailing each other.

Everything - and I mean EV-ER-Y-THING - about Evan’s relationship with Zoe is so creepy and disturbing that with a soundtrack change, this could easily be a horror movie. He attempts to get her to like him by describing to her all the things her brother noticed about her - oh wait, I’m sorry, all the things HE noticed about her while he was skulking in the shadows following her around for years, watching every move she made, and it ends with him singing repeatedly “I LOVE YOU” because following a girl around and never having a conversation with her or knowing her at all is love, right? This was clearly written by the same people who chose “Every Breath You Take” as their wedding song because Sting is hot and they never actually listened to the damn words.

And it gets about 10 billion times worse when Zoe goes to Evan’s house alone, takes him up to his room, and sings “I don’t need reasons to want you” and that was the moment I was that person I hate in a movie theater and I pulled out my phone to Google who wrote the music and lyrics to the musical (we were in the back row of the theater no one was behind me THIS WAS AN OUTRAGE EMERGENCY) and of motherfucking course it was written by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, 2 men who heard about meeting an actual human woman from a friend one time but otherwise are unfamiliar with the concept.

Lastly, enormous serial killer vibes from Evan sending unlabeled flash drives anonymously through the mail with no note in an attempt to right his wrongs. That’s not catharsis, that’s how the next installment in the Saw franchise starts, with Evan in a Billy the clown doll mask showing up on the screen and asking if you want to play a fucking game.

Also, I know it’s not possible for the narrative to justify this in a way that could be satisfying based on Evan’s actions, but what is with this thing where single working-class mom Julianne Moore is turning down rich people’s money for Evan to go to college? Like, obviously we can’t have that happen in the movie but in real life, fuck your pride! Take those rich people’s money!

I also know how movies work but nothing annoys me more than a giant group of high schoolers all getting beeps and boops to indicate text notifications all at the same time because I don’t know a single person under the age of 55 who keeps their ringer on. That shit is on vibrate AT MOST, and I feel like that’s a millennial thing.

The emotional climax of the film is obviously Evan’s WAY TOO LATE confession, but the idea that it’s prompted by Connor’s family suddenly getting a lot of internet hate is, frankly, laughable. If Sandy Hook taught me one thing, it is that no tragedy is immune from trolls who live only to cause other people devastating emotional pain on the internet. That shit starts day 1. Apparently no one involved in this production has ever been on Twitter?

Also it feels like there should have been a dog somewhere in this movie and there was no dog, so points off for that too.

Perhaps Dear Evan Hansen isn’t nearly as deep as it aspires to be. Perhaps it’s a morality play, a simplistic message of “Don’t lie, kids, lying is bad!” Major studio movies wrap themselves up with a nice bow at the end so everyone can feel good about themselves and leave with a happy ending, but the moronic cruelty on display here makes that feat feel impossible. We’re left with Evan in an orchard, reading Connor’s favorite books and staring into the big blue sky with all the self-actualization he’s earned now as a lil treat. And if Evan Hansen looked like an actual 18-year-old, it would be a lot easier to extend more empathy to him and his not-fully-developed prefrontal cortex, but it’s a little harder with this fully-grown, weathered man who was old enough to remember seeing Liar Liar in theaters.

Dear Evan Hansen,

Get some actual help and a haircut and maybe you can grow up enough to have an actual healthy interaction with any other living person, ever.

Sincerely,

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#121in2021 #dear evan hansen #dear evan hansen review #dear evan hansen 2021 #ben platt #amy adams #kaitlyn dever #julianne moore #colton ryan #danny pino #movie reviews #film reviews

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taegiconic · 3 years

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𝙛𝙤𝙘𝙪𝙨

< 14. Healing >

synopsis📸

Famous photographer and youtuber, Jeon Jungkook, couldn't imagine that one day he would find his muse doing what he loved, neither did she, but there will come problems in their company.

pairing📸 photographer and youtuber! jungkook x model and influencer! y/n

genre📸 famous!au, angst, fluff, problems

word count📸3495

Masterlist📷

A/N: Hello, I hope you enjoy this part as much as I did while writing it. And as I always say, I'm sorry for my grammar (dumb) errors. I wanted to write this inspired on bts's song, in Fake Love and The Truth Untold to be exactly, and I think I did good!

Namjoon, Jin, Taehyung and Y/N entered in the fancy hall together. Everyone was in there, including the chairman of the company. When Y/N saw everyone, she hid behind Namjoon and approached Jin, that also was behind him, to hug his arm.

Are you fine? Jin asked looking at her worried.

Yes, I am. She said smiling at him to make him feel less worried, he smiled at her back and nodded with his eyes closed.

Taehyung, that stopped to great his manager, saw Jin looking worried because of Y/N and went where they were. Jin said something to him, but Y/N couldn't hear it. Taehyung lowed a little bit to Y/N's ear, when she felt his breath next to her ear, she got goosebumps, thing that Taehyung realized and laughed.

Hey, don't get too nervous. I just wanted to check you are okay. If you feel your anxiety go worse hug my arm, I will try to bring you to a better place, okay? He said before going again to greet someone.

Everything was going fine, after greeting almost everyone in the company. Y/N went with Taehyung to drink something at the bar, where wasn't very crowded. Someone put their hand in Y/N's naked shoulder, thing that make her jump of the scare and turn around.

Oh my good Yoona, you scared me! Y/N said putting her hand in her chest and sighing, making Yoona worried.

I haven't seen you, you look amazing Y/N. Yoona said hugging Y/N making her calm in her arms. Is just me, let's breath together.

Thank you, you look amazing too. She said after broke the hug when she felt better.

Yoona saw Taehyung and with her finger directed him near to them. Take care of her right. I know you Kim Taehyung, and you are the best person to care her. Taehyung nodded in answer to her and she left to greet the chairman.

Everyone in the bar were silent and looking at the door. When Y/N turn around he saw them, Jimin, Hoseok and Yoongi, and specially him, Jeon Jungkook, the one she was only focusing with an angry gaze. With arms closed and glass of mulberry wine as her dress in hand, she raised up her chin in pride. He was looking directly at her, not only because how elegant beautiful she was, but because she was wearing the same suit color of her dress, like if their tailor made it on purpose. They started to greet everyone in that room one by one, like the Kim's did when they arrived. Y/N and Taehyung greeted Jimin, Hoseok and Yoongi with a warm smile and answering their “how are you” questions. Suddenly, Namjoon and Jin where also next to them when Jungkook turns to greet them came. All the Kim's started to be cocky when they saw him coming on their way. Seeing all of them like that made Jungkook think about the real reason why the media call them a cult. They all had the same pose, the same gaze and the same pride.

Hello. Jungkook said, not taking his eyes off Y/N, she neither did. He blinked slowly and Y/N was the only one that could notice how his eyes suddenly started to be watering while looking at her.

Hello. All the Kim's said back with angry gaze and turn around in a circle starting to talk like if he wasn't there.

Jungkook sighed and went to where his friends were. He really thought that after a month since the discussion with Y/N everything will come back to what it was in that night. In that month, he only could think about her and how good everything was going to her, she had a glow up in a month and he was sad and tended to close in on himself. That is when his videos started to be in a very different mood, even his fans started to be worried about him because he looked forced to be happy when he really wasn't. His head was always thinking about what Y/N asked him “you rather have success in your career than have happiness in you private life?”, now he will answer that his happiness in his private life is the most important for him, but he couldn't be happy feeling empty, he only could be full of sadness.

At the time of the dinner, everyone had their sits assigned, so there was Y/N being unlucky. Her sit was in front of Jungkook.

Oh, come on! Y/N said while looking at the board where the paper was.

What happened? Namjoon said trying to look what was wrong. Y/N pointed at the table the company assigned them.

At least is in front of him and no next to him like I have to... Jin rolled his eyes. Let's go now before they go and is awkward for you. He said.

Do you want to hold my arm? Taehyung said to Y/N.

It's okay, I'm fine, I promise. She said starting to follow Jin to their sit.

Jungkook and his friends reacted totally different, they were happy to sit with them? Yes, but weren't happy knowing how Jungkook was and how he had to sit looking to Y/N. They were having hopes that maybe Y/N isn't heartless, even though they understand how she must feel, and maybe she wanted to make up things with Jungkook. They also have been trying all to help Jungkook through this, but nothing would help, only a word from Y/N would be a thing that will make him feel happy.

When they arrived and sat, Y/N started to see how Jungkook was. Yoongi was always next to him and talking to him, but he looked lost. Her heart totally broke when she saw him like that, she could feel how broken he was. Everyone on the internet was correct, he was trying his best to look happy when he wasn't. She turned her head to Taehyung and murmured his name trying to get his attention.

Need to go out? Taehyung said when he saw her eyes full of tears that were doing the best not to come out in front of everyone. She nodded and stood up before her tears came out nonstop, she was trying their best to safe her makeup with a tissue while running until find a mirror in the halls of the place.

Taehyung tried to go behind her, but instead, he let Jungkook go. Jungkook was analyzing the situation from his sit, when Y/N left he asked Taehyung is she was fine. Taehyung froze when he heard Jungkook asking about her, “go with her”, was what Taehyung said letting him go, and not only having his, but also Jin and Namjoon's approval. This was his opportunity to make up everything, he wasn't going to miss this opportunity, he neither wasn't going to mess all up again, not after a month thinking and having the notes of his phone with more that 50 texts, he has wanted to send her. “You got this” was what his friends told him, and he went for it. He ran in front of everyone in there, letting everyone in the company look at him confused. The halls of the place were longer than he thought, but he found her in front of a mirror.

Y/N... Jungkook said when he found her, going to her.

Y/N closed her eyes and breathed when she heard her name coming out of Jungkook's lips. When she turned to him, he was already next to her.

Jungkook, I can't anymore. Tears came out of her eyes again when she looked at him. I tried my best to look at if I were good, but I'm not... And this hurts. And it hurts more when I see you sad. She wiped her tears again.

Jungkook put her in a hug, resting his chin on her shoulder. Y/N hugged him back without doubt, feeling his sweet scent that she loved. Jungkook didn't care anymore about the company or who could see them like that, he only wanted to be happy with her like he used to when they had their secrets dates.

Y/N I'm sorry, you don't know how many times in this month I have been blaming on myself. Or how many times I have repeated the question you asked me. And you know what? He paused and his tears started to also come out. Y/N could feel his hug become tight, his breath pausing because his sobs, and his tears reaching her naked shoulder. You are my happiness Y/N, you. I don't care about my success, that can't make me happy as you did. My success can be one day in the top and other day in the bottom, but my happiness will never be in the bottom if I'm with you. He lifted his head looking at her. I promise everything will be fine is you accept my apologies, okay?

Y/N nodded and separated off Jungkook a little. While looking at him, she tried to wipe his tears away with the tissue she already had in her hand. His arms stayed hugging Y/N by her waist while she rested her arms on his shoulders when she was done wiping the tears off his cheeks.

I could look like if I'm angry, but in reality, I'm broken inside... I didn't have the glow up everyone is talking about, I try to look like if nothing affected me... But it does. I literally put a mask on just to not show my real mood, the real me. Now I saw you lost in your thoughts, not smiling anymore and almost not eating anything, and I knew something was really wrong... Y/N started to caress his cheek with one hand, he closed his eyes and gasped. When he felt her touch, his tears stopped and felt the peace he has been looking for. I totally accept your apologies. I can't pretend anymore.

Jungkook whole face changed, he opened his eyes again and his cheeks went up, smiling softly to Y/N. That was all he wanted to hear, he felt all the sadness going off his chest. Y/N smiled back at Jungkook not cutting off the eye contact, putting the hand that was caressing his cheek back on his shoulder. He broke the hug, but one of his arms stayed around Y/N's waist, his hand went up to touch directly Y/N's chin, lifting it up, while his thumb was touching the edge of her lips. Y/N was feeling all type of goosebumps on her body, she knew she was falling for him more than she already was. She was in heaven, so was he. Jungkook went slowly to her lips not taking his eyes off her, hand back to her waist. Their lips connected, both of them were hugging tightly again, making the kiss intensive.

Hey! What are you doing? The heard someone screaming in the back. They stopped the kiss and separated immediately, they turned to where the voice was coming, and luckily it was Yoongi. Come back here, the chairman is going to do his speech. Y/N went to the mirror fixing her eyes makeup and her lips, like nothing happened.

A moment, we have to fix this. Jungkook said pointing his now rosy lips because of Y/N's lipstick. Yoongi made a gesture of okay with his hand from where he was and left. Jungkook went to where Y/N was, he stopped next to her in front of the mirror. I haven't finished, I know the garden of this place is enormous.

I don't want to hide anymore Jungkook. She turned to him and started to wipe off the lipstick trail he had on his lips. Let's see how this continues tonight. He nodded smiling softly at her. And let's fake laugh, our eyes look like if we were smoking weed. She said when she finished. Jungkook started to laugh, but this time he wasn't fake it, he really was laughing so laughter infected also Y/N. He extended his hand to her and she hold it, going back to the salon where everyone was having dinner. Before entering, they kissed softly again, and of course, they entered separated, as nothing happened. The atmosphere in their table changed completely, every of his friends already knew what was happening because Yoongi told them very excited.

After the dinner, many of the attendees left home. Everyone left were in the bar now, however the personalities of the company where also sitting there around a mini table full of already empty glasses, less Jungkook. Y/N was trying to see if she could see him around the place, but there was no trace of him. Yoongi, that was seeing Y/N stretching her neck looking for him, approached her sitting in the free sit that was between Taehyung and her and that also they were reserving for Jungkook.

He is outside, in the garden. Yoongi started to tell her on her ear. I think he is waiting for you. Good luck! He said standing up again and leaving to the bar for a new drink.

Y/N decided to go with him, she said it to Taehyung, and he giggled while nodding, alcohol was hitting him already. When she was on her way and almost in the garden's door, someone grabbed her by the wrist.

Hey, princess. Y/N eyes opened wide and she froze when she saw her ex Manager, Minsoo. Where are you going so fast? Are you looking for that piece of shit Jeon Jungkook? She still frozen, she wanted to scream but felt like her voice was gone. You won't answer me? His grip was getting harder and Y/N was feeling the pain, she only could deny with his head.

What are you doing here? She said looking at her wrist, feeling how his nails were going in her skin.

What are you doing Minsoo? Jungkook appeared behind him. Haven't you learned to leave girls alone and to not put a hand on them without their permission or consent? Minsoo immediately released the grip, Y/N groaned in pain seeing what he did. I don't want to see you near her, go away. I will tell the chairman what you did to her.

Minsoo started to get cocky going on his way to Jungkook when he listened to him. For Jungkook it was funny, he grows taller than Minsoo and also, could beat him with no problems, he was also getting cocky. He gazed Y/N and she could see him mocking Minsoo. When Minsoo was already in front of Jungkook, Jungkook started to stare at him with a very dead gaze.

Don't you ever touch her like that again, did you hear me? Don't you ever, Minsoo! Jungkook glowered at Minsoo screaming to him, luckily no one in the other rooms knew about what was happening.

I will report this. Y/N said when she saw how Minsoo was getting smaller and smaller after Jungkook screamed to him. This is really serious Minsoo, you are not only stalking me, but you are also acting violent with me. I haven't done anything to you! You are the piece of shit! Y/N started to scream and Minsoo looked at her shocked, he never thought she would ever explode off anger like that. I swear you will go to prison.

Jungkook moved next to Y/N trying to calm her, and he did. He took Y/N's arm gently, checking what Minsoo did to her in her wrist. In that exact moment the chairman appeared at the end of the hall, going on his way to Minsoo with a very serious face.

What is going on? What are you doing here Minsoo? You are fired off the company and you can't be near Y/N. Minsoo was now feeling trapped, he couldn't scape. Jungkook, that was still holding and checking Y/N's wrist, pointed it to the chairman saying he did that to her. You did that to her? Oh, Dong Minsoo, you don't know who you messed up with. Minsoo kneeled in front of him in apology, but that wasn't going to work. Stand up, we are not taking that apology. He did what he was told. Y/N, take pictures of that, go to the garden to breath some fresh air. Y/N nodded with his head. And Jungkook, please, take her there and be with her. Jungkook also nodded.

Both of them left. Y/N was still froze, but Jungkook will be always there to make her feel calm and in peace.

Jungkook took Y/N to a big fountain that was on the garden. Both of them sat on a bench that was in front of it. He saw that Y/N's skin was cold, so he didn't doubt of take off his jacket and put it on her shoulders.

Won't you be cold? She said wrapping herself with his jacket.

I'm okay Y/N, don't worry. He said looking at her with a soft smile and putting a tuft of hair behind her ear. Are you after what happened?

Yes, I am. She sighed. I have to say I was so scared, what would have happened to me if no one had been there to help me?

Y/N, don't think about that... You are safe now, and in safe hands if you are with me. She snuggled into his chest and he put one of his arms around hugging her.

My chest hurts... but don't be scared, hurts because how much I like you. She saw his free hand resting on his thigh, so she saw the opportunity of hold it with both of her hands.

Y/N-ah... You are making me flustered. He started to giggle nervously.

Keep giggle, I love to hear it. She said starting to giggle with him, going back to sit normal, but this time she stopped holding his hand to leant on his thigh while looking at him. I love your smile... She couldn't take off his eyes of him, her chest was so full watching his cheeks grow on a smile.

I like you so much too, you know that? He gazed her with a big smile.

Now I know it, really. She gave him a peck kiss on his cheeks.

Y/N do you want to date me? I mean... do you want us to be... a couple? He was really nervous saying it that he could feel his cheeks going red of shyness.

Yeah, I do want Jungkook. She started to laugh because she could feel how tense he was.

Jungkook stand up from the bench and went somewhere behind the fountain, there were a lot of flowers that Y/N couldn't identify because of the darkness. She kept analyzing every one of his moves. Jungkook came back with a rose, giving it to her.

I give you a rose because roses are one of the most lasting flowers, so is our relationship. We have been separated of each other for a month, knowing nothing of you, only seeing you on the news or in the magazines, I have felt very empty... But a thing I know, is that I haven't stopped liking you, so that is the rose. Whatever happens or whatever this goes, I just want to let you know you are so important for me and that I will do anything for this, for us. Okay? He smiled and gave it to Y/N that was mouth opened with what he just said to her. Be careful with the thorns, don't get scratched by them. If you get scratched, I will also do.

Jungkook... You are so adorable. I'm really speechless. Thank you and I will try my best to take care of us, because you are really important to me. She stood up and kept looking at the rose, touching it carefully having in mind what he said about the thorns. I'm glad you thought correctly about what was the best for you and I'm glad your choice was me.

With no doubt, Jungkook kissed her. This kiss was now more mindful to both of them. Not only because was their first official kiss as a couple, but also because things were about to change in the company if they decided to tell their managers one day. All they knew was that this time they won't be hiding from paparazzis, and like Jungkook said “if you get scratched, I will also do”.

After Jungkook gave plenty of kisses to Y/N's face, he invited her to pass the night with him on his apartment. They left the place without telling anyone, going on a night car trip to city singing along all the songs that were on their collaborative's playlist. All they did after arriving was looking at the night’s sky lying down on Jungkook's bed, silence and the sound of their hearts beating fast every time they kissed was now their peace, their healing.

taglist: @preciouschimine @cosmoaphrodite @mizz-kraziii @ayasanuwu @moonlitmyg @safi4x @rjsmochii @milkteallday @springjade @mybiasforsure @bangtanday @black-rose-29 @takisaregood @deolly @acidicloveee @sprgdy @lunaarya @jungkook-its-my-time @allthesqueaks @prdshobi @thedhomn @secretlycrazyhummingbird @babyboytae1 @mina-bear @madaboutjeon @beeeb05 @calumsphile @hannahdinse8 @darkskin-buttercup @babieemochi @infernal-alpaca @fancykoos @youlook-likehell (if you want to be added to this taglist, tell me here or replying to this post)

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mrsdeanwinchester19 · 3 years

Text

The Interview

Steve x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: The Avengers have interviews with a news outlet and it doesn’t go as expected

Type: Fluff and humor

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: This was inspired by the Jiminy Glick/Jimmy Fallon interview

The Avengers compound was almost completely quiet, Steve was the only one awake. He doesn’t normally stay at the compound anymore, preferring to stay at his house, but they got in late from a mission last night and fell asleep after taking his suit off. The only noise came from the drip, drip, drip of the coffee maker as he mentally tried to prepare for the interviews the whole team has today. Everyone had been assigned a journalist for a news outlet called The New York Sun. They were doing a piece on the Avengers, hopefully they won’t try to turn it into an exposé, but it’s not like they would find any information that isn’t already on the Internet after Natasha decrypted and released SHIELD’s files.

Bucky stumbles into the kitchen in a long gray and purple striped robe, looking like he just woke from cryo. “Good morning sunshine,” Steve jokes. Bucky glares at him before taking the cup of coffee that Steve had prepared for himself before walking back out. “FRIDAY,” Steve says to the air. “Set an alarm for everyone’s room.” He smiles slightly when the loud alarm starts blaring in all their rooms.

Sam slams his door open and looks around frazzled. “What the hell, man?” He clearly woke up thinking there was some kind of attack happening.

Steve simply shrugs his shoulders in response. “You need to get ready.”

Once everyone had gotten up and gotten ready, they all have a meeting in the common area. Tony orders them not to say anything the people don’t know about already, don’t say anything about each other, and definitely don’t talk about relationships or family.

The journalists are spread out around the compound, each in their own room, so Tony tells them where to go to meet their journalist. Steve goes into the conference room to see one chair turned away from him. When he closes the door, the journalist spins their chair around and sets their papers on the table. Steve is immediately struck by how beautiful the interviewer is. Long Y/H/C hair tumbling over her shoulders, bright Y/E/C eyes staring into his baby blues. She’s wearing a tight black skirt and a white blouse that Steve can slightly see her lacy bralette through.

“Steve Rogers, nice to meet you,” she says, extending her hand. Steve grips her soft hand in his rough one and shakes it. He can’t help but notice the lack of a ring on the hand he didn’t shake.

“Nice to meet you too Miss…” he trails off.

“Y/N.”

“Miss Y/N. It’s not often we do interviews, just press conferences,” he says, sitting down across the table from her.

“Well, normally I interview celebrities, so this is a nice change of pace,” she answers. Apparently Steve isn’t a celebrity in her eyes despite the fact that he’s a national icon and has been since World War II.

“What would you like to know?” Steve changes the subject.

“I want to know about your journey. I want to know how-” she checks her notes, “-Steve Rogers got to where he is today; but not too much detail because I don’t actually care. You were born where?”

“I was born and raised in Brooklyn-,” Steve explains, but she cuts him off.

“-Isn’t that wonderful? Poor Brooklyn or Newsies Brooklyn?”

“Uh, it was more poor Brooklyn.”

“Poor Brooklyn, okay. And I’m assuming from the grammar…limited education.”

Steve nearly has to keep his jaw from dropping at her audacity. To keep his mouth from opening, he clenches his jaw as she continues with the questions. He may not be a genius like Tony, but he’s smart. While Tony’s head is filled with ideas for inventions, his is packed with military strategies, fighting styles, and a lifetime of wise advice that the team never wants to hear. Then, at night, what takes over his mind is how embarrassing the Rappin’ with Cap videos about hot lunches and tooth decay are.

She continues before he has a chance to respond, “There are a lot of words you don’t say. Rumors are you don’t swear, is that true?” Steve nods his head in affirmation. “Why? Are you scared of saying the words or something?”

Steve sighs, used to this kind of response. “I just think it sounds unintelligent and unprofessional.”

“Ah, and with your lack of education you want to sound as smart as possible. So, moving on, you stopped producing weapons. You said ‘I’m not gonna do it anymore’. Why is that?”

“Yeah, that uh, that wasn’t me, that was Tony.”

“And you are…?”

“Steve Rogers.”

She gasps, “These questions are not- I’m not prepared for this! Alright, improvising. Here’s one, how are you alive?”

“I beg your pardon?” Steve asks, not quite understanding if she’s referring to his age or a certain mission he shouldn’t have come back from.

“You went into the ice. Human cells are mostly made of water. When water freezes, it expands. Your cells should have burst.”

“They think that the serum prevented it from happening. The doctors said that instead of the water in my cells expanding that when it got cold it clumped together and turned solid. I’m not a scientist though, that’s something you would want to ask Bruce or Cho, they tried to explain it to me.”

“Bruce isn’t a medical doctor, right?” she asks.

“Right. But he studied the serum, attempting to replicate it and now that I’m here again he’s trying to learn more about it. I was basically a pin cushion for him in the beginning, he took so much blood.”

“Alright, last question. I wanna ask you about your relationship with Bucky Barnes.”

“He’s a very good friend-“ Steve begins.

“Lover.”

“What?”

“Is he your lover?” she asks again.

“No, he’s just a friend; basically my brother,” Steve defends.

“Admit it in this interview, he’s your male lover!”

“You’re just trying to get a reaction out of me!” Steve says. He knows he shouldn’t let her rile him up at all, but he can’t help it when the entire interview has been to hold.

“I’m not trying to get a reaction.”

“Yes you are, you’re trying to get a reaction out of me by saying ridiculous stuff like this!”

“I’ll tell you the reaction that I’m trying to get over, I’m trying to get over the fact that I thought this was with Stark!”

“You gotta be shitting me.”

“Oof, Rogers, you kiss your wife with that mouth? Or should I say you kiss Bucky with that mouth,” she says.

Steve pulls at his own hair before walking out of the conference room. She’ll find her own way out. What the hell kind of interview was that? The questions were almost nonsensical, followed no pattern or sequence, and apparently she thought she was interviewing a different person. He’s been angered by interviewers before, especially when they try to work in “gotcha” questions, but never straight up insulted like this with the education comment. He’s not sure if the others are done with their interviews yet but if he needs to talk to them, he can text. He’s headed home.

You unlock your front door and drop your purse after closing the door. Before you even get a chance to turn on the light, a voice calls out. “Limited education?”

You jump a bit and put your hand on your chest. You look over to see a dark figure on the couch. He stands up and slowly walks over until he’s in the light shining through the front windows from the street lights. “I think you deserved it,” you say.

“Oh really?” he asks.

“Yes. Texting your wife that you’re getting in and then staying at the compound?” You walk closer to him. “I stayed up for hours worried that something happened to you in the last few minutes of the flight and you said I’m not allowed to call you during missions.”

“I’m sorry babe, my phone died and I passed out when I went to go take off my uniform. Can you forgive me?” he asks, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You look up at him then at his chest. “I mean, a massage would definitely help…”

He laughs. “I was about to ask the same thing of you, especially after FRIDAY showed Tony the full recording of my interview and then had an almost two hour phone call with me about it. He’s gonna kill me when he finds out the interviewer was my wife. Actually it’s gonna be when he finds out I got married and didn’t invite the team.”

“Well don’t worry about it,” you say, setting your hands against his chest and feel his strong heart beating beneath his skin. “He’ll understand since you two weren’t on good terms at the time. In other news, I wrote you a shining review about how you’re smart, selfless, brave, kind, and how sexy your ass is.”

He laughs and leans down to kiss you. The kiss is chaste but sweet. “We’re having dinner with the team on Thursday.”

It’s Monday today so that gives me only 3 days to mentally prepare to meet the people most important to him. “Are you sure?” I ask nervously.

“Of course! You already know Bucky and he loves you. I’m sure the rest of the team will too. Besides, how else will we explain the great article about me when Tony saw the interview.”

“Did you tell them they’re having dinner with you and your wife?” I ask. I have hung out with Bucky and Steve dozens of times. He comes over for dinner at least twice a week and he was the best man at Steve’s second wedding. Because Tony and Steve had been split apart, he really wanted Bucky at his wedding, even though he wasn’t fully recovered yet. I think Steve would’ve put him in a straight jacket had it meant he could be there. Bucky also wanted to be there more than anything, he was just terrified he would ruin Steve’s day. So after telling Bucky, you had a small, second ceremony that Bucky was able to attend, along with Steve’s Wakandan friends. We may end up having a third ceremony that the team can finally attend.

“Nope. I just told them team dinner on Thursday and they have to be there. But for now, how about we head to the bedroom and get reacquainted?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows and biting his full lower lip.

“Yeah, you need to take care of your wife that you left alone for a week. Otherwise you’ll get an article about your secret addition to glazed donuts and soap operas!”

Taglist: @imanuglywombat

#Steve Rogers #steve x reader #captain america #the interview #fluff #Avengers #The Avengers #steve rogers x reader #steve x you #tony stark #Bucky Barnes

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wyofabdoms · 3 years

Text

Undercover I Do - Chapter 4

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: While on an undercover assignment posing as a married couple, you are attacked and nearly assaulted. Upon waking, all you remember about Javier Peña is what you remembering seeing from two photographs of the two of you posing as the happily married couple. As you struggle to regain your memories, Javi struggles with his own feelings for you.

Rating: Mature (Eventual smut)

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, fake/pretend relationship, married and undercover trope, temporary amnesia, hospitalization, blood and injury, soft Javi, unrequited feels, lots of medical things that are probably wrong but I did a five minute internet search so we’re gonna call it good, okay?

Word Count: 1308

Notes: Javi finally gets to see you. Soft Javi!!

Read on Ao3

You’re not sure how much time has passed since you were last awake. After Dixon and the doctor had left your room, you had found yourself dozing, slipping in and out of sleep. The next time you woke, though, the light through the window had changed direction and gotten softer; much of the day had passed as you had slipped in and out of sleep. You heard the door to your room quietly clicking open and you turned your head to see the doctor entering your room again. Behind him was Dixon and…

Your breath caught in your chest and you felt tears sting behind your eyes. The man from the photographs entered the room cautiously, his eyes locked on you. You could read the worry behind his dark eyes and a question there as well. Your brain flailed, searching, trying to remember his name as he made his way to your bedside.

“Hey.” He said softly by way of greeting. His eyes were soft and searched yours like he was looking for something, too, but he shot you a tender smile and brushed a strand of hair away from your face as he spoke. “How you feelin’?”

Before you could answer, the doctor cut in.

“This is the man you mentioned earlier today? The one from the pictures?” You nodded, still looking at him, slightly hypnotized by his puppy dog brown eyes.

“Yes. Your name is…” Your brows knit together thinking, trying desperately to remember. As the silence of your struggle stretched longer, the man leaned down and took your hand in one of his and gave it a squeeze.

“Javi.” He said hoarsely. “Javier.” The name landed in your mind. It sounded familiar, but it didn’t click the same way it had for Dixon. But you were certain that you knew this man. Without any real memories of him, something inside of you was sure that you had a strong relationship with him. That you could, perhaps, trust him more than anyone else in your life at this moment.

“Javi.” You said the name slowly, as though testing the sound of it with your own voice. “You’re...my husband, I think? I saw our picture and…” You raised your hand to show your ring and looked at his own hands that were resting on the bed, one of your hands still clasped in his. Noticing no ring on his left hand, your eyes swung back up to his face, confused. He glanced down, realizing what was missing, then flicked his gaze up to Dixon for an instant before he settled his gaze back on you and smiled softly again.

“I, uh...I had to take it off.” He murmured by way of explanation. “It...had blood on it...It needs to be cleaned.” He took the hand he held in his and clasped it in both of his now, raising your knuckles carefully to his lips and pressing a soft kiss there.

You didn’t realize the tears you had felt in your eyes earlier were so close to overflowing. But that small gesture of sweetness from this kind man that was also your husband and who so clearly loved you sent the floodgates open wide, and before you could stop yourself, you started to cry.

****

Javi’s heart nearly broke when he had caught sight of her as he had entered the room. His heart broke even more at the question he had seen in her eyes when she studied his face. When she had grappled to find his name, he had barely been able to speak, and when she had looked at him in confusion when she hadn’t seen a ring on his finger, he felt like his chest would pop like a balloon.

“There’s a chance she might wake up later tonight and have her memories fully returned, maybe next week, or maybe…ah, well...” The doctor had cleared his throat as he spoke to him and Dixon before they had entered her room. “Let her find the memories herself. If they’re there, they’ll come to her in time. But whatever you do, do not lie to her. She has no reason to really trust you right now, even though she believes the two of you are married; you are essentially a stranger to her, one that now she’s just expected to trust the way she did before she lost her memory. As her memories start coming back to her, even little ones or ones that seem insignificant, if the things you tell her while she can’t remember turn out to be a lie, it will make her ability to confidently reacquire future memories that much more difficult.”

“But, we’re NOT married! If I pretend that we are, isn’t that lying to her?”

“You’re right, Agent Peña. But it’s very important these first few days that we proceed with caution when it comes to her memory. The brain and memory are fickle things that we really don’t know all that much about as far as the human body goes. Right now, we need to play along with what she believes is true. You’ll need to be very careful about the way you interact with her. The fact that she was asking for you as her husband leads me to think that there may be more than just physical trauma...I worry, given the situation she was in immediately prior to her injury, that some of her amnesia may be due to psychological trauma as well. She finds the idea of being married to you familiar right now...perhaps even safe. We need to see that she’s fully healed physically first and determine how much of her memory loss is due to those injuries, then we can proceed in healing the memory loss that may have come from the mental aspect.”

“Peña,” Dixon had said. “The two of you were already playing a couple. You’ll just keep doing it.” Javi had snorted at the way his boss had made it sound so simple. “I’m sure she’ll start remembering soon. Just don’t lie to her, like he said.”

Those words rang through his head now: Don’t lie, don’t lie, don’t lie to her. He looked at Dixon for a moment, but her eyes were wide, staring back at him; no help whatsoever.

So he had told her the truth...mostly. The ring he had been wearing undercover had gotten blood on it. It would need to be cleaned before he could put it on again. He had left it in the soap dish on his bathroom sink last night before dragging himself into his bed. He would have to remember to put it back on the next time he saw his partner.

He had kissed her hand on a whim and he panicked after, feeling the remaining shards of his heart that had broken earlier turn to sand as he saw tears fill her eyes and start to trickle down her cheeks. His brow furrowed and he looked worriedly at the doctor, afraid he had done something to hurt her. The doctor moved to the other side of the bed and said her name questioningly.

“Are you alright? Are you in pain?” He asked, reaching to feel her pulse in her wrist. She shook her head weakly.

“No, I’m fine. I just…” Her glassy eyes had turned back to meet Javi’s gaze. “I just don’t remember you. I know we’re married but...I can’t remember anything about you...about us.” She squeezed her eyes closed as tears fell harder. Javi couldn’t help himself, he leaned over and pressed another gentle kiss into her hair, murmuring softly so that only she could hear..

“Hey. Hey, hey...shhhh. It’s ok. Shhhh...don’t cry, cariño. It’s gonna be ok.”

He hoped with every fiber of his being that he was right.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13

#javier pena x female reader #javier peña x reader #javi #narcos #pedro pascal fanfiction #fake marriage #undercover marriage

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hitsuackerman · 4 years

Text

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.5

a/n: things get pretty interesting here. i actually like how this chapter turned out ;)

warnings: this cannot be read solo, a bit of harassment

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 6

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased @infinite-universe-love @dirtypride @blackymomo03

It was finally the morning of the gala.

And things were not looking good for you.

The night before, Tsukauchi and you stayed at the precinct till 11 to finish closing up a case that had been solved by the forensics team. It would have been such a quick fix if it hadn’t been for the sudden power outage that lasted for 2 hours. The generators were doing well but without the internet to back up the system, it was practically useless.

When everything was finished, the chief had to pop in and hand another assignment. One that was due later in the day. Photocopying the documents, you worked on it till the early hours of dawn in your little home.

Oh, and you almost spilled coffee on one of the important handouts.

Now that the sun was shining, you rubbed the drowsiness from your eyes and pushed yourself to get out of bed. All too aware that you were now running late, you didn’t give a damn anymore. Screw them if you were late. Being given work at that time of night was never a good thing to do, yet the chief always made sure to bless you with more cases.

Taking your sweet time in preparing yourself for the day's activities, you put your phone on mute and proceeded to take a shower.

Now seated in your car, the engines revved as you read the notifications. 3 missed calls and 5 messages, 3 of which belonged to Tsukauchi who scolded you for being late for your shift. The other two were just updates regarding 2 other cases you were working on. As for the missed calls, it was the chief.

Tossing your phone to the passenger’s seat, you drove your way to the precinct.

By the time you arrived, you had to sneak your way in. Eyes scanning for the chief or your partner, the area seemed to be void of those 2 men. Making a quick run for it, you passed by the receptionist and ducked when you were near the meeting room. With your cubicle an arms length away, you suddenly felt restricted and void of any air passage.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Tsukauchi said as he pulled you closer to him. “You’re late by 2 hours and the boss is fuming.”

“It’s not my fault he let us burn the midnight oil on the case.” You swatted his hand away from your collar. “I finished mine already so he should be thankful.”

“He’s waiting for you.”

“Damn it.”

Stomping to his office, you prepared yourself for the worst. Knocking on the doors, they were opened by the man himself. His features showed pure rage and anger. When he gestured for you to enter, the doors closed and if your ears weren’t going deaf, you heard the locks click. “Look.” You started to explain as you went to the same sofa you sat in a few days ago. “You gave me a new case and the deadline only 24 hours. I managed to run through the case and even wrote down 3 possible villains who would do such a thing. I can contact my-”

“That’s not the point, (Y/N).” He cut you off. “You disobeyed the precincts rules.”

“By being late for 2 hours?” You countered. “For having been given something so last minute?”

“I do not tolerate tardiness in this precinct. I understand that it was not planned but the fact that you had the audacity to do such a thing is worrisome.”

Biting your tongue, you wanted to punch him in the face for not being considerate. Never in your life had you been late for work. All your cases were always finished on time and sometimes even earlier than schedule. Yeah, you were partly at fault but with the stress you had been carrying, you just couldn’t deal with this bullshit.

“Apologies for my actions.” You lowered your torso in hopes he would see it as heartfelt.

“Actions would have to speak louder than words here, (Y/N).” He denied you of forgiveness.

“You can give me 3 cases. But just basic ones as punishment. I’ll readjust my sche-”

“Dinner.” He inserted himself. “You and me.”

Your jaw dropped and your eyebrows furrowed. Did you hear him right? The way his eyes began to scan your body was getting unpleasant. When he licked his lips, you immediately broke eye contact.

“Excuse me?”

“Set aside a time in your schedule to have dinner with me.” He smirked. Resting his elbows on his knees, he lowered his voice. “Not business related of course. It would be nice to savor a bottle of wine with you.”

“Sir.” You shifted in your seat. Your back now sinking onto the couch’s back. “It would not look good to the other officers if we were to spend time casually outside the office.”

“Either that or I will have to hand over 10 of my cases to you.”

10? That was more than you could handle given your workload. Feeling your breakfast making its way to your mouth, you managed to brush the feeling away. No matter how hard you will yourself to look him in the eye, you just couldn’t do it.

Standing up and leaving would be a good option but the doors were locked. He was quick and your speed was nothing against his. Swallowing your saliva, you began to chew on your inner cheek and your fingers began to fidget.

“Better answer now, (Y/N).” He glanced at the wall clock. “10 cases are waiting in line.”

“When?” You barely managed to answer.

“This sunday.” He stood up and paced towards the door. “I shall send you a message as to where we shall eat.”

When the doors finally opened, you had never stood up so fast in your life. The office was disgusting and all you wanted to do was run to the ladies toilet and wash your face. Before you could step out, the chief managed to grab a hold of your wrist. A small yelp escaping your mouth.

“Tell anyone about this,” He whispered. Leaning in closer to your ear. The sight of you backing away was a rather good one. “Those 10 cases will fall into your desk.Oh, and wear something nice, my star officer.”

Letting go of your wrist, his hand found your back as he gently pushed you outside. The way he managed to slide his palm down a bit caused chills down your spine. When the door finally closed, you dashed for the nearest toilet and locked yourself in the stall.

Taking your jacket off, you hung it on the hook and sat on the toilet. Catching your breath and recomposing yourself to what had just unfolded. Trying to calm your trembling body, you reached for your jacket’s pocket and took your phone out.

Clicking on Gei’s contact, you held on to your phone as the call tried to connect. No use. You were redirected to voicemail. Ending the call, you scrolled to your dad’s contact. Your quivering thumb hesitant to call him. It had always been your motto to never involve your dad when it came to problems within the precinct. Knowing that this would lead to something bad, you chose not to call him.

Instead, you took a deep breath and dialed up another number instead. On the first ring, you immediately hung up. Hiding your face in your palms, you tried to relax by doing breathing exercises. It was short lived when your phone vibrated on your thigh,

‘Fuck.’ That’s all you could think of. Answering the call, you waited for him to speak.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Hearing his muffled voice somehow calmed you down. Leaning backwards, your thin shirt met the cold surface of the toilet seat cover.

“What’re you talking about?” You faked. “I didn’t call you.”

“Then why did my phone register your name under missed calls?”

“Oh.” The trembling of your body had now stopped and you felt relatively better. “My bad. Butt dial. Sorry about that”

“See it does not happen again, (L/N).” Overhaul replied. “Is there nothing else you have to say?”

“No. Sorry for disturbing you.” “I shall see you later.” He ended the call.

The time was now 12 noon. Opening your schedule, you let out a sigh of relief when you saw today was a field day. You could definitely use some fresh air. Not wanting to wear the jacket, you fixed yourself in the mirror and went to your cubicle.

Grasping for the papers you needed, you stuffed them into your bag and didn’t bother informing your partner that you were leaving. Walking to where you had parked your car, you threw your bag and hurriedly sat down. Locking your doors the moment you were fully inside.

Wanting to take your mind off of work, instead of doing interviews and gathering intel, you chose to drive your way back home to take a full bath. And to discard the jacket now situated in the trunk of your vehicle. With no traffic, it was a quick trip back to your building. Choosing to park in the underground area, you were all too happy when it was barely parked with cars.

Finally. You were in the comfort and safety of your own personal walls. Dialling Wcdonal’s on your phone, you ordered a WcMac to wash away everything that had happened today. Now sitting on the tub, you scrubbed whatever skin was exposed in his office. There wouldn’t be enough money in the world to pay you to enter his office alone.

Moments passed and you were now stuffing your mouth with the sinful burger. Its secret sauce tickling your tastebuds. It was now 3 pm and Gei would be arriving in an hour. Taking in the last piece, you threw the wrapper and took out the box that contained your dress.

Laying it flat on the bed, you admired the beading once again. It was all black but upon closer inspection, your eyes would travel and admire the handcrafted work done. Beside it was the box that contained the cuff-links. How you were going to give it to him was a mystery you had yet to solve.

Picking out the shoes you would wear, you came to terms with one of your favorites. A simple but strappy Zalentino heel. Gei would be proud of your get up. When the knock on your door finally echoed, you hid the box in your purse and proceeded to open the door.

Hours had passed and you were now good to go. Light makeup on your face, just enough to make you look refreshed and alive. Gei managed to convince you into wearing a stain proof-budge proof red lipstick. It made sense but you weren’t sure if you could pull of such an intense color. When his work was finished, he clapped his hands and jogged towards the living room.

“Lemme take a picture of you, (N/N)!” He said as he took his phone out. “Best work I've done on you! Let’s take a selfie!”

It was now 6 and your heart was racing. What would he be wearing? Would his jacket be present? Or would he suit up?

“Baby girl,” Gei teasingly nudged your elbow. “Better contain your thoughts cause your cheeks are pink. And I’m pretty sure that ain’t blush.”

Before you could reply, the dreaded knock introduced itself.

“Holy shit. Oh my gods.” You began to pace back and forth. “Do I look okay? Is the dress fine? Ahhhh…”

“Relax boo.” He reassured you as he walked towards the door. When he opened it, he was unsure of the person before him. Wearing a white raincoat and a mask covering the entirety of its face, he pouted a bit before letting him enter.

When you saw it was Chrono, it only made things worse. He was waiting inside the car and his appearance was still a mystery. Were you overdressed for the occasion? It was a gala, it was normal to doll up.

“Overhaul is waiting downstairs.” He informed you. His eyes scanning the room but his head remained facing you. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me, masked man~” Gei said as he bumped his waist at the wrapped man. “How does my baby girl look?”

Chrono did not like this. Not one bit. The stare Gei gave him bore holes into his mask. With a twitching eye, he let out a sigh and stepped backwards. It was bad enough his boss threatened him to be the one to get you from your unit and not him. Informing you that he would wait outside, you couldn’t help but giggle at his actions.

Gei took his things as you wore a trench coat to provide warmth. Grabbing the jacket you wore, you had come up with the perfect way to dispose of it. It wasn’t long when all three of you were now in the lobby. Chrono taking the lead.

Opening the doors for both of you, Gei’s mouth dropped when he saw Chrono opening the door to a sleek black Vercedes Mayback. His head turned to you and once again he did the wig snatched gesture. Looking back at the door, he watched as Overhaul stepped out of the car.

He was wearing an all black tux. His usual pale gray tie was replaced with a matte black one. A silver tie clip reflecting the lights above you. His hair was slicked back a tiny bit. The golden colors his eyes had were definitely the only accessory he needed for the night. Even with the mask on, he looked like a god.

“Oh sweet Beyonce that man is fine~…” Gei uttered under his breath. Just enough for you to hear and agree.

“If you’ll excuse us, we must be going.” Overhaul said as his gloved palm beckoned you to enter the car.

“Say no more, daddy!” Gei said as he wiggled his fingers at you. Trotting away to his next destination.

“Sorry about that…” You muttered as you went inside the spacious car. He followed suit and sat beside you. The wide armrest distancing the both of you. When he closed the door, the SUV began to move and off you went to the hotel.

The box sitting in your purse felt heavy. Ending the agony, you pulled it from your purse and took a deep breath.

“I, uhh, got you something.” You placed on the armrest. Observing his golden eyes, he gingerly took the box and flipped the lid open. The way his eyebrows jumped made you think he appreciated it. At least a bit.

“I appreciate this.” He took one and began to adjust his sleeves to wear them. Once they were both in place, he paused to admire them. You had good taste, he had to admit. “Your infested mind may have aligned with mine.”

“Not the best thank you, but I don’t get what you're saying…” That was the truth. You weren’t picking up the meaning behind his message. You followed the movement of his hand as he lifted the arm rest, the inside was wide enough to fit a shopping bag. Handing it to you, you were rather speechless at the event. “What’s this?”

“A gift. Something for the night.”

Taking the bag, you pulled out the box only to have your eyes widen at the embossed brand on the lid. Your gaze went from the box to him and back to the box.

“Holy smokes…” Lifting the lid, you were met with a gorgeous pair of Kristian Fouboutins. If your memory was right this particular pair would have to cost Y76,000. “These cost a fortune, Overhaul.”

“Nothing I can’t handle. Are they to your liking?” His sight focused on the city lights passing by.

“I mean, yeah. I love them but-”

“Think of it as a token of appreciation. It is all on you if you choose to wear them or not.”

Not wasting a second, you quickly unstrapped your heels and wore the Fouboutins. It was the perfect fit and it was surprisingly comfortable, complete opposite to the reviews you read.

Overhaul stared at you through his peripheral vision. The way your lips formed into a smile was rather pleasing. His eyes widened when you fully faced him and gifted his sight with a genuine smile.

The first one he’s ever received from you.

- - - - -

are you guys liking the progress? :) i hope you do :’) again, feel free to message me if you have any questions or if you wanna be tagged :) take care!

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha overhaul #mha overhaul #bnha chisaki kai #mha chisaki kai #overhaul is sugar daddy #heck he is a daddy #he can overhaul me and i honestly wouldnt mind #lmao whats wrong with me

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lostinbl · 4 years

Note

Dean catches team and win kissing in the locker room after practice. Team freaks out and ignores win for a couple of days. Dean isn’t too surprised since he knows that win has like team for a while now. So he tries to give team the “dont hurt my friend” talk

“Don’t come any closer”, Team warns Win as he backs away. Win is looking at him with that goddamn smirk on his lips. He raises one of his eyebrows and takes a step forward. Team glances around but unfortunately for him, it’s just the two of them. Their practise ended well over half an hour ago after all. Team took his time showering and before he realised, the entire locker room was empty. Except for that one blond motherfucker.

Ever since that time, Team has made sure to not be left alone with Win. He can’t believe it slipped his mind this time.

Team let’s out a disapproving sound as Win takes another step forward. Win’s smirk gets even wider and goddamn Team wants to punch him.

“What? I’m not gonna do anything”, Win laughs as he keeps walking. Team’s back hits the cold metal lockers.

“P’!” Team warns but Win doesn’t care. He gets closer and soon Team can feel the man’s hot breaths against his face. A shiver runs through Team, lifting the hair on his arms. Team blames it on the cold. He’s not wearing a shirt after all. Win comes even closer, putting his arms next to Team’s head, trapping him against the locker. Team’s hands find Win’s bare chest as he tries to keep the boy away.

“We’re in the locker room!! We can’t do this again”, Team scolds Win but even he can hear the uncertainty in his voice. Unsurprisingly, Win ignores his words.

Slowly the smirk on his face fades and something much scarier replaces it. Win leans closer and Team freezes. Team would like to say he fought back, but he really didn’t. The moment Win’s lips touch his, Team’s eyes close and he relaxes against the lockers.

Win wraps his left arm around Team’s waist, pressing himself against Team. The hand that was earlier holding Win back is now wrapped around Win’s neck, pulling him closer, while his other hand is in Win’s hair. Team loves Win’s hair. He loves the way it looks but more than that, he loves the way it feels. His hair is soft and the perfect length to tangle his fingers in. That being said, Team’s fingers are intertwined with locks of blond hair and gently he moves his hand, tugging Win’s hair. Win lets out a deep groan and presses closer. The sound sends electricity down Team’s spine. Despite everything, there are some things he has learned about the man in front of him.

Win’s right hand slips down under the towel and he runs his fingers along Team’s thigh. Team knows he should stop Win, he should pull away because Win would let him, of course he would but Team can’t bring himself to do it. Not when everything Win touches turns to fire. Win’s hand moves up to his upper thigh. The blond boy moves his mouth and nibbles at a spot under Team’s ear. Team’s breath gets caught in his throat.

“Hia”, Team’s voice is shaky as he calls out. Win’s hand stops there, waiting for instructions. Win’s mouth doesn’t stop but Team knows he's waiting for an answer. Team opens his mouth, way too feverish to say anything other than yes when Team hears the door opening. The blood in his veins turns to ice and his eyes burst open. Team pushes Win away with what he admits to being a little too much force. Win looks at him with confusion and then follows Team’s wide eyes.

“Oh. Hello Dean”, Win greets his friend. He steps in front of Team to hide his dishevelled looks.

Dean lets out a sigh and presses his nose bridge with his thumb and index finger.

“Guys. Seriously? No matter how horny you are, please, not in the locker room”, Dean says in surrender. Win sighs and crosses his arms.

“You just had to come in now, did you?” Win asks but there’s humour to his voice.

“I’m sorry P”, Team mumbles as the reality of his actions finally catches up with him. In a hurry, Team picks up the pile of clothes on the bench and runs for the door.

“Team!” Win calls after him but the younger boy has already exited the room. Win takes a step after him, frowning. In the end, he decides against running after the boy. Dean leans against the wall, his eyes on Win. He can’t say he’s surprised, not really. He just didn’t think they were quite there yet.

“How long has this been going on?” Dean asks, his voice kind. Win sighs and picks up his shirt. He’s avoiding Dean’s eyes.

“There’s no this”, Win mumbles as he puts the shirt on. Dean raises his eyebrows.

“Oh?” Dean asks. He’s pretty sure Win likes the boy and from the way Team acts, he thought the feelings were mutual.

“Mmh”, Win agrees not providing an explanation. Dean stays quiet. If Win doesn’t want to talk, he won’t force him. He picks up his keys from the table, them being the reason he came back in the first place, and leaves for the door. Before exiting, he turns around and points at Win, giving him a meaningful look. Win smirks and raises his hands up in surrender. Dean chuckles and rolls his eyes, finally leaving.

The moment Dean is gone, the smile on Win’s face drops. He sighs and ruffles his hair. Win sits down and buries his face into his hands. Shit.

Four days later Win has not seen or heard from Team. The young boy has gone as far as to skip swimming practise. Whenever Win goes with Dean to meet Pharm and the rest, Team is nowhere to be seen. Win’s unsure whether Team has been hanging out with his best friends at all, or if he’s simply really good at avoiding Win. He hopes it’s the latter.

Once again, Win and Dean make their way over to the younger students. Win looks around with a frown. Still no sign of Team.

“Where’s Team?” Win asks no longer trying to be inconspicuous. He’s pretty sure Team’s friends have some idea of what’s going on. He has been asking the same question several times in the last few days after all.

“Team? He just left before you got here”, Manow answers as she takes another bite of a sandwich Win is sure Pharm prepared for her. Win breaths out in relief. So Team’s only avoiding him then. That’s better than avoiding everyone. Win sits silently throughout their meal which goes unnoticed by everyone else other than Dean. He knows his best friend better than that.

“I’ll go first then? See you at practise”, Dean says bye to Win as they leave for separate directions. After a quick conversation with Pharm, he got Team’s location. Since the boy has gone into hiding and Win can’t find him, he has to make a move.

Dean arrives into the library and just like Pharm said, Team is there, sitting on one of the tables. He doesn’t have any books open in front of him and it’s more than clear he’s not there to study. He’s there to hide. Team is leaning his chin against his arms, staring at something deep in thought. It’s weird for Dean, seeing Team like this since he doesn’t really know Team on a deeper level. Dean’s used to Team clinging to Pharm, always asking for food and constantly bickering with Win. His expressions are always loud and it’s strange to see him this solemn. To Dean’s luck, Team has picked a somewhat remote area and the closest people are a few shelves away. Dean walks over to Team and sits down. The younger boy only raises his head when he hears the chair scrape against the floor. Team’s eyes widen and he straightens himself.

“What’s going on? Is something wrong with Pharm?” Team asks, though clearly not alarmed. Dean smiles. His friends always come first. Win found a good guy.

“No, nothing’s wrong. I’m here about Win”, Dean answers and leans against the table, crossing his fingers. Team shrinks against his seat.

“What about him?” he asks, avoiding Dean’s eyes. Dean looks at his expression in silence for a little while longer.

“I’m not taking sides, I’m just here to talk”, Dean says and leans back against his seat. Team relaxes and nods, still looking away.

“Just.. if you’re not planning on being in a relationship with Win, tell him that”, Dean cuts straight into it. Team meets his eyes but doesn’t interrupt.

“He likes to flirt and play around but he really does like you. It’s not the first time he’s gotten his heart broken so be straight with him. If you’re not planning on being with him, stop seeing him. You’re no longer just a fling to him and he can’t walk away on his own. So if you’re planning to, you need to do it”, Dean’s voice is calm as he speaks. Team looks at his lap and plays with his fingers. Does he want to be with Win? Or… Team tries to think. This is the same question he has been battling with for the last several days. He was planning on figuring it out soon and in a way, he felt as though Dean had given him an ultimatum.

“Do you not want to be with him? Do you not like him? Or.. are you not ready to.. you know”, Dean clears his throat. Team’s eyes widen.

“No! It’s not that! It’s.. I’m not.. I..” Team’s voice drifts off. They stay in silence for a little while.

“Well.. either way, think about it. Don’t leave him hanging”, Dean says as he gets up. Team nods. Dean gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he leaves the table. Team sighs and lets his head fall against the table. His forehead stings but he ignores the pain. He has more important things to worry about.

At 2.56 am Win hears a knock on his door. Had it been any other day, Win would’ve probably been asleep. But it’s Friday and hence Win’s in no hurry to go to bed. That and the assignment he forgot to turn in three hours ago and the fact that he only finished it twenty seconds ago. Win sends the file to his professor, writing an excuse about his internet crashing and it only now working. Win’s pretty sure the excuse will pass, not that it really matters. As long as the assignment has arrived before the professor checks his email, he won’t say you’re late. He’s pretty chill like that.

Win gets up from his chair as he hears the loud knock again. Rather than knocking, it sounds like someone is kicking the door. Win grimaces at the thought of it waking up his neighbors. Win opens the door with an angry expression on his face, ready to yell at the idiot on the other side. And even though that person ends up being the biggest idiot of them all, Win can’t yell at him.

Team looks up at him with a conflicted expression. He’s wearing his nightwear clutching onto his phone and keys. His hair is dishevelled and it’s clear that coming over was an impromptu decision. Without a word, Win steps aside and Team slips past him. Team heads straight for the bed and without a word he climbs under the covers. Win is still standing at the door. With a sigh, he closes the door and follows Team inside. Win turns off his computer and the desk light then crawling under covers next to Team. Win wraps his arms around Team and pulls the younger boy in for a hug. Team doesn’t resist.

No matter what happens, Win knows he can’t push Team away. Whenever Team has those nightmares, whenever he can’t sleep or breathe the person he finds is Win. Tonight is proof. Even though Team has been avoiding him for days, when he really needed Win, he couldn’t stop himself from coming over in the middle of the night. And as long as Team needs to, Win will let him. Win presses a kiss into Team’s hair as he snuggles closer.

“Hia”, Team calls against his neck. Win tightens his hold around Team. He stays quiet.

“I didn’t mean to run. I just.. I needed to think a little. I’m sorry”, Team apologises. Win sighs.

“It’s okay”, Win answers with a quiet voice. He doesn’t blame Team. This is his first relationship and on top of it it’s with a boy. It’s only natural for him to be scared.

“I.. I want to be with you”, Team says the words quickly as if afraid he’ll swallow them if not said now. Win pulls back with surprise on his face. He meets Team’s eyes. The younger one doesn’t turn his eyes away.

“Yeah?” Win asks, his eyes not once leaving Team’s.

“Yeah”, Team replies with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Win stares at him a little while longer and then a smile takes over his lips. He lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding and pulls Team in for a tight hug.

“Ynngh.. suffocating- over- here”, Team chokes out and Win laughs. He pulls back just a little. He brings his eyes down to Team’s lips and leans down. Win kisses Team softly on the lips and pulls back again. Team smiles. Win answers the smile and kisses Team again. Now that he’s allowed to, he’s not planning on stopping any time soon.

#thanks for the request!!#this was so much fun #pau writes #winteam #teamwin #uwma #uwma the series #win x team #winteam fanfiction #until we meet again the series #until we meet again #Until we meet again ด้ายแดง

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the-phoenix-heralds · 4 years

Text

Coping with Online Classes while Neurodivergent

(Mostly aimed at those with ADHD and Autism, as I have ADHD and NVLD)

Organization

If you aren’t already keeping a planner this is a great time to start, It will allow you to not only remember the overload of information you are getting but also to organize it. (Also don’t be afraid of modifying how you use your planners, I for example am now using a completely different planner than the one I have been using for the past 2 years)

Also It will help you keep track of time (especially now that everyday seems to blend together)

Google calendar is great as not only is it online (and you are able to keep it both on your computer and phone) but Zoom is also allowing teachers to schedule classes on through it so they show up automatically on you calendar

If you haven’t already joined/made a class group chat, DO IT! being able to ask classmates/friends for advice/help is going to be more important than ever now, I have been relying on mine to keep me accountable and attending my classes on time

It is completely reasonable to ask your teachers to set a “firm” schedule, ie “we only meet for classes on Tuesdays and assignments will always be due on Thursdays”. Even if this is only true in *most* cases it is still a huge step forward in establishing a schedule and a sense of normalcy.

Use Google Drive and Bookmarks to organize your digital resources, sorting them first by class then by type (textbook, questions, data sheet, etc.) or how ever else you deem appropriate. This will save you time and keep you from losing documents

Gmail allows you to add searchable and colour-coded labels to your emails, these are great to wrangle your now completely overwhelmed inbox. My teachers tend to send their Zoom invite emails out directly after class meaning I might not need them for entire week, so I now tag them “zoom” so when I’m scrambling a few minutes before class I can find them in one search

Coursework

do not be afraid to directly ask teachers how their marking criteria and curriculum have changed. Even if they are only able to give you an approximate answer, this should still help you prioritize your work and know how much time to give each assignment

also do not be afraid to tell teacher how/if you are struggling, many of us have spent years learning how to cope with a “normal” learning environment. Asking us to adapt all of our coping strategies and modifications in a few days is unrealistic and many teachers thankfully understand this

Also don’t be afraid to get creative with adapting your new coursework, If you usually answer questions orally you can use the speech to text function in Google Docs or submit audio of your answers via email

Productivity

DON’T DO YOUR HOMEWORK IN YOUR BED OR ATTEND CLASS FROM THERE. I know how tempting it is, but It’s amazing how much easier attending class is for me from my desk. Differentiating spaces helps you mind organize what you do where, you don’t have to have a desk just somewhere that preferably Isn’t your bed.

Set a schedule to follow during the week, but also be realistic with what you know you can and will accomplish. For example, I have to be in Zoom classes every morning at 8:35am, so I have to be up by 8 and be “presentable” (this is very low bar for me, it literally only means that I don’t look like I got mauled by raccoons) and have made myself breakfast and coffee by 8:30.

Take structured breaks at certain times of the day and go outside/open a window, eat, refill your water or just to simply take a break from the internet/screens.

Try using noise cancelling headphones or earbuds to limit the amount of outside stimuli, and arrange your desk so it is not visually overwhelming (ie. no huge piles of work or text books)

Zoom

Zoom is currently sensory hell for me and I haven’t seen a lot of information on what to do so here’s whats working for me right now

Asking for notes before class is a classic accommodation so don’t be afraid to ask your teacher, chances are they are already providing notes to someone else (If a teacher shoots you down ask a trusted friend for a copy of their notes, or to take turns note taking)

Ask your teacher to mute microphones during lectures and to only turn them on for discussions/questions, It’s amazing the amount of background noise this eliminates

Find the best place for internet in your living situation, or If possible switch to wired Ethernet (I went from 1.5-3 MBS to 150 MBS just by switching to a wired connection even though I was already less than 2M from a WiFi modem)

If it’s visual stimuli that’s the issue, Zoom let’s you choose if you only see your teacher/ how many of your classmates you can see at any given time and also lets you reduce the size of the window. It will also outline whoever is talking in lime green, to help direct your focus

download an audio mixer, this should give you the ability to cut the audio frequencies above and below the range of speech, while this won’t cut all the distracting noise it should reduce it and cut what sounds the most “artificial” (which I have the most issue with)

you can also download KRISP a program that does this for you (If you email them you can get it for free for the next six months)

Find ways to fidget that can help you focus, I for example have been knitting during class discussions because it not only helps me focus but the added input also helps me interrupt people less and listen better (other recommendations are Rubik’s cubes, stress balls or even doodling)

Don’t be afraid to turn off your camera for a few minutes to work or take a break, taking a break before you shut down is always better than after you do

also don’t be afraid to mute the class, If you already have the notes and understand them you are mostly there for the attendance/participation marks anyway

Now even though I advise talking to your teacher before you turn off/mute any part of the zoom I also understand that many teachers won’t be willing to make those accommodations and that most of this can be done easily without the teachers knowledge. As long as you are trying don’t feel guilty for adapting online classes to fit your specific needs.

Other Tips and Tricks

make friends with the SEA’s (Special Education Assistant’s or your equivalent) even if you don’t get support, they are having to adapt classes for their students and are able to offer an incredible amount of insight and help (they are also some of the most compassionate and determined people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing)

along the same vein make friends with other Neurodivetgent students, not only so you know what is working for others but also because the more people asking for help/accommodation the more likely you are to get it (never underestimate collective bargaining)

If you are new to self advocating or communicating adaptations through email take a look at Understood.org , they have amazing and simple to understand information on different learning issues in all ages from infancy to adulthood as well as common accommodations and why they are used. It’s an amazing tool to not only explain neurodiversity but also to find solutions and how to communicate them to others. They also now have an entire page on how to adapt to covid-19 as a student and as an educator

Finally do not be afraid to ask for help, everyone is going to need help and grace during this time, you do not need to be ashamed of it. (I personally am battling some shame over asking for more comprehensive accommodations during these times)

@dashing-hyphen @galazybunny @mouwwie

#Neurodivergent #neurodivergent studyblr #adhd #actually adhd #autism #actually autistic #NVLD #studyblr #study motivation #zoom

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kaweeella · 3 years

Text

Project Homeward Bound

I forgot to say this but some classpects might be different than what I had given them previously and if you saw Rin’s then you probably know why, so don’t be surprised if one’s different.

Chapter 2- The One Behind It Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall

~~~

Team B (because class 1b and Hitoshi and Mirio was too long and impractical) are on voice call, discussing what the plan is. They’re on a server specifically made for the game. It’s not entirely surprising. They need to be able to talk to each other.

Rain pitters against the window.

“Should we go by seat order?” Kinoko suggests.

“But Shinsou isn’t in our seating chart.” Jurota points out.

“It’s fine, I’ll go whenever.”

“How about you go first and I’ll be your server player.” Yosetsu suggests.

“If that’s fine with everyone else.”

“Hitoshi who’re you talking to?” Eri asks, standing in the door.

“I’m doing a…” He was going to say it’s an assignment but is it? It’s a game he’s playing with his kind of classmates. It wasn’t even given by a teacher. Oh well.

“Is that Eri?” Mirio asks. “Hi Eri!”

“Hi Mirio!”

The entire group gets side tracked talking to Eri. Hitoshi isn’t sure how they got to this. She just showed up one day and sometimes Aizawa brings her to school with him. He told him to be gentle with her. It’s not like he was planning on harming this child in any way but whatever.

“Eri, could you ask pops if we have any coffee for me?”

“Okay! Bye-bye!” Eri says to the class, who all tell her bye back, and leaves the room.

“So Shinso’s going first?” Pony asks the group.

“If that’s okay then sure.”

Hitoshi pulls out the disk labeled client and he puts it in, a weird loading screen popping up. A kaleidoscope-like shape that’s constantly changing. The background is light blue with clouds going by. Every second it’s loading he grows more anxious. What has he gotten himself into?

“Damn it…” Yosetsu mutters, the sound a little grainy.

“Awase, what’s the matter?” Hitoshi asks. God he just got viruses didn’t he.

“Nothing, the internets just fucking up.”

“Right.”

“Have they finished yet?” Tetsutetsu asks, sounding bored.

“I just said the internet is slow.”

“Mine’s almost done.”

When it’s done, Hitoshi hears something beside him. Looking over, he sees… a weird pop up? What? It looks like a selection menu and it says “Pick your fetch modus.”

“What the hell.” He mutters.

“What?”

“What is it?”

“I- uh- I’m not sure. Here let me try…” He takes his phone and takes a video as he walks around it and sends it in the chat. “Is it just me? Are you guys seeing this too?”

“What the hell is a fetch modus?” Togaru says.

He reaches out and touches one of the arrows and the card-thing between them moves, showing a new one.

“So what is it?” Setsuna asks.

“I don’t know.” Should he just pick at random? Is this an important decision? What is this thing and how’d it get here?

They can hear Mirio typing- his keyboard must be in pieces- before he says “I’m gonna go, be right back.” He then disconnects.

If someone looked at the call they would see that he, Nejire, and Tamaki were in The Big Three voice chat, one that only they can get into.

“Hitoshi!” Eri enters the room again, “We didn’t have any coffee so me and pops went and bought some. What’s that thing?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’re supposed to pick one?”

“I guess.”

“Can I pick?”

“Yeah, go for it. I think it’s better that you pick anyway.” He lifts her to the select menu and she looks though them.

“What about this one?” Coloring book.

“Sure.” He selects it and then another thing pops up.

“Select your strife specibus”

“Jesus, more?” He mutters, setting down Eri. There is only one blank card this time.

“Get it figured out yet?” Itsuka asks.

“Yeah but now there’s another thing: a strife specibus, whatever that is.”

“The coffee’s in the kitchen for when you want it.” Eri says before leaving.

Hitoshi guesses that he has to insert something into it or something, but what?

He thinks for a moment. Is there a wrong answer?

He digs through his closet. It has to be somewhere in here. He pulls out a decorative mace. Well it can’t really be decorative if it’s not used for decoration, in the closet it’s just a flimsy mace. He’s been meaning to put it up but he never got to it.

He shoves it into the card, which adds an image and some text. It says “mace-kind”. It disappears again and thankfully there isn’t another one.

“It’s done!” He yells to the rest of the group. “It’s finally done! Now what.”

“I think I have to link up to you.” Yosetsu says, his audio still messed up.

“Has your game downloaded yet?”

“Uhh… yeah.”

“Great.”

The two link up, though Hitoshi is a little disappointed, as the only things on his screen are weird shapes with numbers next to them. He’d say this is a scam if anyone actually paid for it.

“Shinso?” Yosetsu says.

“Is your end as disappointing?”

“Is the game bad?” Pony asks.

“Should’ve seen it coming.” Togaru says.

“No, it’s not that.” He stares at his screen, unsure of what to say. “I think… I think I can see in your house?”

The chat fills with an incomprehensible garble of “What?” “The hell?” “This is so weird.” and other confused noises.

“Wait wait wait wait wait,” Hitoshi says to quiet everyone down. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I can see you at the computer, I think.” Yosetsu clicks on something in the room, lifting it up. “Look to your left for me.”

He does, seeing his alarm clock floating in the air.

“What the fuck.” He looks back at his computer. “Are you doing that?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck.”

Yosetsu notices he has things to place. “Incoming.”

Suddenly a weird machine with some spikes sticking down to where he guesses something is supposed to be put. There’s also a little card slot.

“What am I looking at.”

“A totem lathe”

“What does that mean.”

“I don’t know that’s just what it’s called.”

“Should we get Mirio back in here?” Neringeki asks.

“Yes.” The two at the same time.

They then proceed to spam Mirio to get him back in the call.

“I’m back, I’m back. What’s up?”

“I… Here, I’m gonna screen share.”

“Don’t show them my house.”

“Hey,” Mirio starts, “What?”

They stare at their screens seeing Hitoshi’s house. After showing them he wasn’t lying, Yosetsu turns it off, Hitoshi letting out tension.

The class talks, but Hitoshi takes off his headphones and heads to the kitchen. He can hear the rain on the window. It’s a little loud.

“Hitoshi! What’s going on?” Hizashi asks him.

“Nothing, nothing. I just want some coffee.”

Hizashi sees that Hitoshi doesn’t want to talk, so he leaves it at that. He starts working on dinner.

Hitoshi grabs a coffee, and then it disappears. He grabs a different one. Gone.

Great. Whatever.

He puts his hands in his pockets and feels something. Taking it out he sees a piece of paper with the outline of one of the coffees he grabbed. He quickly walks back to his room, incredibly frustrated.

He lets out a groan as he puts his headphones back on.

“Shinso, what’s wrong?” Itsuka asks.

“I think I know what a fetch modus is.” He slams the papers onto the desk.

“What is it?” Kinoko asks.

“Inventory.”

“What?” Manga asks this time.

“I let Eri pick and she picked coloring book and I went to grab a coffee and now they’re pieces of paper.” He digs in his pockets and finds a box of crayons. Throwing them onto the desk as well.

The group falls dead silent.

It stays that way until Nejire joins the group.

“Guys, guys! You guys need to get to the medium as soon as possible!”

“What’s the medium?”

“How do we do that?”

“Why?”

“I’ll walk you through it but you have to be fast. Who’s the server player?”

“I am.”

“Alright, put down all the devices you have.” She pauses for a second. “And put them in close together and easily accessible places.”

“Right.”

He does what she said and puts down all the machines, cluttering Hitoshi’s room in the process.

“What now?”

“Who’s the client?”

“Me.”

“Do you see a… a box with a cylinder and a dial?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s a lid on top of it, you need to apply pressure to get it off.”

Hitoshi pushes down on it, but it doesn’t budge.

Yosetsu looks around the house and finds something to drop on it.

“Watch out.” He drops a speaker on it, which breaks it and removes the lid.

“Dude. That’s going to be expensive to repl… what’s the timer?”

“It’s how long you have to get into the medium.”

“Hitoshi?” Hizashi calls from the kitchen. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you see the… orb?”

“Yeah.”

“You have to put something in it.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, just anything you have laying around, I guess.”

Hitoshi, with some struggle, goes back to the closet. There has to be something in there.

He hears something behind him and feels a pit forming in his stomach. Turning around he sees the orb now has a skull on it.

“Damn… I liked that shirt.”

“Did you do it?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you see the dial on the thing?”

“Do I turn it?”

“Yes.”

He does so and out pops a cylinder.

“Do you see the… the spikey one?”

“The totem lathe?”

“Is that what it’s called?”

“That’s what Awase said.”

“It’s what the game said.”

“Doesn’t matter. Put it on there.”

“Alright now what?”

“It should start cutting the cylinder.”

“It’s not.”

Yosetsu thinks for a moment. “Maybe you need this?” He drops a card with holes on it by him.

“What is it?”

“A card thing.”

Hitoshi puts it in the slot and the machine starts cutting.

“Now what?”

“Put it on the pedestal on the circle machine.”

He does, and suddenly, everything goes dark.

“Is this supposed to happen?”

“What?”

“I can’t see anything!”

“No…?”

Hitoshi can’t see, but if you are Yosetsu you’d see he has a blindfold. You would also see a puzzle in front of him.

“There’s something in front of you.” Yosetsu tells him.

Hitoshi feels around and finds it.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Solve it, I guess.”

“What?”

“It’s a puzzle box.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“I’ll help.”

Yosetsu walks him through the puzzle box as the timer ticks down, the rain hitting harder and harder against the window. The box clicks open, and the ground rumbles.

Hitoshi falls forward, hitting his head. He’s out cold. The blindfold and puzzle box disappears, as well.

“Shit.”

“What happened?”

“Did he make it in?”

“Shinso?”

Yosetsu can see his breathing. “He’s just unconscious.” And certainly concussed.

“Hitoshi?!” Shota calls from outside the door. He tries to open the door, but the cruxtruder- who is making these names?- is blocking the door.

Yosetsu tries to move Hitoshi so he can properly move the thing, but finds he can’t.

“Damn it.”

“Hitoshi!” He’s banging on the door.

Okay. He needs to be careful. He slowly moves the thing as far as he could without dropping it on him. It doesn’t make it far, but it’s enough for Shota to open it some. Not all the way, but what can you do.

“Hitoshi are you-” He sees the boy on the ground, and doesn’t even acknowledge the weird things in his rooms and makes his way over to him.

After checking for blood he then looks around. He hears the headphones and listens.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Aizawa!” Mirio says. “Welcome.”

“What happened?”

“He fell.” Yosetsu says.

He rubs the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know what you want from me. That’s what happened. He fell over and hit his head.”

“Wait he did?!” Someone says, the rest of the class starts talking, concerned about his well being.

“Shoda, is he alright?” Hizashi tries to open the door, which goes how you would expect.

“He hit his head. Knocked out.”

“Mr. Aizawa?” Nejire speaks up.

“Hado?”

“We might have an issue.”

The phone rings, and Hizashi answers it.

“Takami’s on the phone. Says it’s important.”

“Nado would you mind if I step away for a minute?”

“No, go ahead.”

Shota steps out, pausing only for a moment to look at the machines.

“So now what?” Yosetsu asks, following the two with the lack of anything better to do.

“I’m not sure. Let me check back in with my class.” She says before leaving the call.

They wait, some idle chatting, when Yosetsu sees Shoda quickly looking out the window. He looks, too.

“Oh.” So is that what the medium is?

#sburb au #bnha #mha #class 1b #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic

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sylvanfreckles · 3 years

Text

Chemistry

This is entirely and forever the fault of @angelfishofthelord and their “The Genre You Struggle With” challenge.

And thus, I present, a schmoopy, silly, rom-com style epoch of the first meeting of Sam and Sam’s Blurry Wife (from the finale).

Summary: A coffee shop, a sprig of mistletoe, and a barista who just might be Santa’s little helper...looks like Gabrielle and Sam are learning a little more about Chemistry.

* * *

“Good morning, Professor!”

Gabrielle D'Angelo raised a hand in greeting at Nico, the morning barista at Renegade Coffee. She had to duck a little bit to avoid the excessive use of tinsel around the door, but once inside the warm coffee shop she could almost forgive the sheer ton of glitter and sparkle and twinkle around her.

Almost.

“You certainly went all out,” she commented as Nico set a tall, steaming cup of her usual morning order on the counter. “It's barely December and this place looks like a Hallmark exploded in here.”

“Well, you know,” Nico shrugged. “Gloria went a little nuts. She downsized to an apartment this summer, so we get all the decorations that won't fit in her new place.”

“Uh-huh,” Gabrielle nodded. She couldn't help but notice the row of nutcrackers on top of the display case. They were all in different little service uniforms—like a postman, milkman, garbage collector, teacher. She pointed at them, eyebrows raised. “No barista?”

“Some people have no taste,” Nico replied with a haughty sniff before breaking out in a dimpled smile. “What else can I get you, Professor?”

Gabrielle leaned down to study the pastries in the case. She liked that Nico always called her Professor, even though she wasn't teaching this year. It sounded better than “textbook revisionist”, which was her actual profession. “Cheese danish?”

“Coming up. I'll bring it out to you when it's warm.”

She raised her coffee cup in toast and left a ten-dollar bill on the counter. That would cover the coffee, pastry, first refill, and her tip...for now. If she couldn't get through Dr. Adair's notes on the taxonomy of noble gases she was going to need more than this. Not even Nico's secret whiskey flask could get her through Dr. Adair's notes on the taxonomy of noble gases.

Gabrielle made her way to her favorite booth in the corner and began unloading her rolling laptop case. Well...it wasn't actually a case. More of a plastic milk crate on a portable luggage dolly, with her laptop tucked in to one side. From the crate she unpacked three older chemistry textbooks, a half-dozen manuscripts held together by alligator clips, and a Hello Kitty pencil case that contained the pens and highlighters she'd need (shut up, it was lucky).

“Cheese danish for milady?” Nico offered, as soon as Gabrielle had unloaded and booted up her laptop. She accepted the little plate and absently took a bite from the warm danish, ignoring the fork Nico had placed at her side, and stared at the glowing logo as the computer slowly roused itself.

Her laptop was old, still a relic from her graduate days. She always meant to buy a new one when her tax refund hit every year, but something else came up. Car repairs, a friend's wedding, sewage line backing up into her bathroom...there was never enough money. If she could make the deadline on the textbook revisions, though, she should have enough for a new laptop and a new muffler. No more cable ties and duct tape!

As Gabrielle waited, computer slowly idling its way awake, she caught herself staring at the door, wondering if Hippy Man would appear today.

Hippy Man was...well, she really was supposed to be above these things. But with that hair and the little bit of stubble...hey, a girl could still dream, even if that girl had two doctorates and a Very Important Opportunity. Plus, he was probably taken. Or an asshole. Or both!

Hippy Man didn't come in as often as Gabrielle did, unless he was here the three days a week she let herself sleep past 6am. He didn't have a regular order, Nico and the others didn't know him by name, and he never stayed longer than the time he took to drink his tea of the day.

(She knew he favored Chai because he ordered it at least twice a week, and Nico put a cut little accent on when he called out a Chai latte...that was why she knew it, she wasn't snooping.)

The bell over the door jingled (and jingled...and jingled...looks like Gloria replaced the little shop bell with an entire harness of sleigh bells), and in walked Hippy Man. Well, speak of the devil and he shall appear.

He was in the blue flannel today, which was Gabrielle's favorite. The brown one washed out his complexion, and the yellow one was just a no. Between the flannel and the beanie he looked like some kind of beatnik poet, though the muscles in his forearms and the callouses on his hands spoke more to manual labor.

(She wasn't snooping! She was just...bored.)

“Chai latte today, sir?” Nico asked. Ah, good! Hippy Man was coming in regularly enough to start being recognized.

Hippy Man started back, staring from the board to Nico for a moment. Gabrielle wanted to roll her eyes...maybe this wasn't a small town, but it was a small coffee shop. Come to Renegade Coffee enough times and Nico would learn something about you. It happened. Just go with it.

“Yeah, uh, sounds great,” Hippy Man nodded. “Do you have any of those vegan blueberry muffins?”

“Saved one for you!” Nico replied cheerily. God, he was the best. Gabrielle ducked her head, pretending like she wasn't snooping. (Okay, so she was snooping a little bit.) Obviously Nico had noticed that Hippy Man only drank tea and ate the vegan muffins (ew). Nico had probably figured out the guy's entire backstory based on his morning orders.

The bright tones of the Windows theme alerted Gabrielle to the fact that her laptop had finally booted up. Gabrielle shook herself, crammed the last of her danish in her mouth, and started on the arduous process to getting her dinosaur of a machine to log on to the Renegade Coffee WiFi.

Hippy Guy always waited at the counter for his order, which just added to the weird. Most patrons took a seat, relaxed a little, but not this guy. He stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, bowed forward a little as though to hide his ridiculous height.

(Really, instead of Hippy Man maybe she should have called him The Moose.)

“Here you go, dude,” Nico announced, setting Hippy Man's beverage and muffin on the counter. “Enjoy!”

“Yeah, uh, thanks. You too.”

Gabrielle bit back a snort, covering it up with a sip from her coffee (Renegade's own Double Dark Dark blend, guaranteed the strongest coffee in the tri-county area. Hey, the taxonomy of noble gases wasn't a laughing matter). At least Hippy Man was as human as the rest of them.

She rested an elbow on the table and leaned her chin in her hand to watch Hippy Man blunder through an embarrassed apology/explanation for what he'd just said—even though Nico had heard “you too” so many times he didn't even react anymore—while she waiting for the little spinny thing to connect her to the internet. Dr. Adair had probably sent three more emails, each one trying to decide between “the order to which we assign these elements” and “to which order we assign these elements”.

In the corner of her eye she saw her screen go white and leaned back to look at it.

No connection.

Gabrielle frowned and tapped the WiFi icon again.

More spinning. She took a minute to straighten the manuscripts—Dr. Russel's additions to the chapters on heavy metals were probably the best she'd seen yet, especially considering Dr. Russel had her own proofreader and hadn't demanded to revise her entry dozens of times, like Dr. Adair.

The screen flashed white again. No connection.

“Hey, Nico?” Gabrielle called. She noticed Hippy Guy frowning at his phone, but ignored him for the moment (which was difficult). “Is the WiFi down?”

Nico poked his head out of the back, towel draped over his shoulder. “Sorry, Professor. It was acting up last night...guess it's still out there. Gloria said she'd call it in when she gets here.”

Gabrielle sunk down in her chair, biting her lip and staring blankly at her computer. She could always pull up the emails on her phone, she supposed. The textbook itself was in a shared online file so she wouldn't be able to work on that until the WiFi was fixed...but she could go through the manuscripts and make notes by hand. With a heavy sigh she slapped her laptop shut and tugged the first stack of paper over.

Oh shit. Hippy Man was watching her.

Gabrielle bent forward over the table, letting her dark hair fall forward like a curtain to cut him off from view. Sure, he was cute and all, but she didn't really want to get into this with him now.

Hippy Man was standing up.

Don't come over, don't come over, don't come over....

Hippy Man was walking over.

Dammit.

“Hi, I'm Sam,” Hippy Man said, holding his hand out.

Gabrielle blew out a sigh and accepted the gesture. “Gabrielle.”

Apparently that was enough for Hippy Man—Sam—and he pulled out the chair opposite. “So, you're a professor?”

“I'm not teaching at the moment,” Gabrielle hedged. Sam was looking at the books on her table, actually touching one of the old textbooks to turn it so he could see the spine. His eyebrows shot up.

Oh god. Here it comes. She could see the headline now...Local Himbo Knows More About Chemistry Than Distinguished Textbook Revisionist.

“You teach chemistry?” Sam asked.

“I'm...working on the textbook,” Gabrielle said. She braced herself for it. Every time she met a guy—at least the tall, ruggedly handsome, flannel-wearing, beatnik-poet-looking ones—they were always intimidated by her work. Or they broke it down to something less (no, it wasn't the same as his mom putting together the family newsletter...yes, she did have a degree in chemistry...no, that didn't mean she could break bad or whatever, and no, she didn't know how to make meth!).

“That's incredible!” Sam said. He actually had the textbook open, caressing the table of contents. “I think I used this edition my sophomore year—is this the one you're revising?”

Gabrielle stared at him. “Well...we're about three versions ahead, but we're going back to that edition for the section on Amphoterism, Peterson really didn't do it justice even if he did have tenure at the time.”

Sam's eyebrows had shot up even higher, almost into his beanie. Gabrielle had to laugh at herself. “Sorry, shop talk.”

“It's okay,” Sam gently closed the textbook and placed it back on the stack reverently. “I see you in here a lot, you just always seem so busy. I didn't want to disturb you.”

Gabrielle shrugged. She had a lot of work to do. Coming out to Renegade Coffee to do it just felt better than working at home, with nothing but her beta fish to distract her. “And how about you, chai-tea-and-vegan-muffin-man? What do you do when you're not telling Nico to enjoy his meal?”

Sam blushed and stared down at the cup in his hands. God, he was cute, up this close. He even had dimples. “It's just a reflex,” he said defensively. She giggled—actually giggled, like an idiot in a rom-com. Instead of making Sam blush even harder, he peered up at her through his bangs and unleashed a devastating smile.

“So?” Gabrielle insisted. “What do you do?”

“This and that,” Sam shrugged. “Mostly pest removal.”

“Yeah?” she took a sip of her coffee. It was almost cold now...this was the point she usually drank the rest of it in one long shot, but she decided to savor it this time. Nico had snuck in a pump of peppermint flavor, and while she would normally beat him with edition three of A Modern Approach to Chemistry she was willing to forgive him this time. It was almost Christmas. “So, like, mice and roaches and stuff?”

Sam gave a halfhearted shrug. “More...specialized.”

Gabrielle felt her own eyebrows rise. “Specialized pest removal? What, like...coyotes in the crawlspace?”

He held up a hand, forefinger and thumb about a centimeter apart. “Almost. It's...complicated. I'm kind of doing it on the side, taking some time off to deal with...personal stuff.”

Shit, Gabrielle could understand that. When her widowed father had gotten remarried she'd taken almost a year to work with a pharmaceutical company in Canada. She loved her new step-father, sure, but it was hard to see anyone else in her mother's place.

Nico stopped by the table, a fresh coffee in one hand and a hot tea in the other. “On the house,” he explained. “Gloria will be in in about twenty minutes, she said she already called the internet guys.”

“Thanks, Nico,” Gabrielle smiled. She threw back the rest of her coffee in one long pull and set the empty cup to one side before tugging the new, hot cup close.

Nico was staring at her. Well, he was staring from her to Sam and back again.

“What?” Gabrielle demanded.

He pointedly looked up.

For the first time, Gabrielle noticed there was mistletoe hanging from the light fixture above her head.

“Nico!” Gabrielle moaned.

“Oh, sorry, I didn't...see that,” Sam protested. He tried to scoot his chair back but Nico had stuck a foot behind it.

“Either you kiss her or I kiss you, big fella,” Nico said, winking.

Face burning with embarrassment, Gabrielle looked over in time to see Sam give a helpless shrug. He shuffled sideways into the booth next to her and gently caught her chin with one hand.

“Merry Christmas, Gabrielle,” he whispered, leaning down to press his lips to hers.

Her stomach did a little flip, which had nothing to do with the coffee she'd just down, and she found herself unconsciously leaning toward him when he pulled back.

Gabrielle blinked, staring up at the man who was now sitting beside her. “What was that?”

Nico snatched up her empty cups and gave her a wink. “That, my dear Professor, was Chemistry.”

* * *

The challenge:

-Must not deviate into your usual preferred genre of writing (I normally write hurt/comfort, action, and suspense, so this was romance/rom-com)

-Must be written in third-person (done!)

-For added difficulty, add an essential original character (pick between Gabrielle as the OFC version of Sam’s Blurry Wife or Nico the barista as Santa’s little helper)

-Use less than ten tags (not including character/relationship tags) (is “chemistry words” a tag? I looked them up)

-For extra added difficulty write for a ship you hate (Sam/SBW is one I hate if SBW isn’t Eileen...but I named her Gabrielle because I also hate Sabriel)

#sam winchester #sam winchester's blurry wife #sam winchester/sam winchester's blurry wife #rom-com #coffee shop #chemistry #post series finale #sam's blurry wife is not eileen #supernatural #fic #fanfic #I looked up chemistry terms

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schrijverr · 4 years

Text

Q&A pt. 2

After a while it’s time for another Q&A where Dean and Cas answer your questions.

Part of the Famous Husband verse, which is also a series.

On AO3.

Ships: Destiel

Warnings: none, but tell me if I missed anything or you want me to tag something!

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I like could become an angel, but I’d say no, just because I think it would suck to have to answer to God, as a human it’s at least optional.” Dean said as Cas started giggling.

After that the intro rolled, it was a drawn impala that came down the road, it stopped in the middle of the screen and the drawn Dean gave a wink to the viewers, then he sped off again and the smoke was bridge back to the video.

“Hi Hunters and welcome back to yet another Q&A, I’m here with my husband, Cas, to answer some of your questions, so lets get started.” Dean began the video.

“Hello.” Cas nodded, while Dean opened his phone.

“Okay, first up @Spngrl272, who asks: ‘If you were to dye your hair an unnatural color what would it be and why?’ Hm, interesting, what do you think, angel?” Dean said.

Cas thought about it for a moment, then he answered: “Pink, or maybe red, because I think it would be fun mostly, I do not have a specific reason.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully and said: “Yeah, I can see that. I think I would dye it blue, but it would have to be the color of your eyes, because that’s the best color I know.”

Cas blushed and shoved Dean slightly as he said: “You sap.”

“Only for you, darling.” Dean batted his eyelashes over the top, then he turned to his phone and said: “Next one! This is from @reesespuffs1 and they ask: ‘What’s your favourite memory of each other?’ Now that’s a hard one.”

“I agree there are so many to pick from.” Castiel agreed.

A silence fell and it was obvious that a chunk was cut out between then and the answers while they thought about it.

“I have one, but it’s going to sound really cheesy.” Dean said, “It’s from a few years back and we’d just moved here, we finally had our own place, you know. Anyway, it was a Saturday and you were sleeping in, but I woke up early and I was gonna surprise you with a breakfast in bed.”

Cas was smiling softly as Dean talked, but he softly broke it to say: “I remember that, I’d had a horrible week and we’d gone to bed early.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Deans voice had also gone soft, “But the sun was peaking through the curtains and it hit your face and you were just so peaceful and it was totally like a movie scene and it just struck me how lucky I was to have you and that this was real.”

Giving him a quick peck on the cheek, Cas said: “That was kind of cheesy, but also really sweet.”

“I try.” Dean grinned, “So, what do you got?”

“Well, it’s an old one and there were many others, who also had a lot of potential, but this was from before we were dating.” Castiel told him.

“God, that is old.” Dean commented.

“I know, but it was during exam week and I’d fallen asleep at my desk, I knew I did because I remembered thinking ‘oh god this isn’t good, I should go to sleep.”

Cas got interrupted: “That is such an A+ internal monologue.”

“I was very eloquent back then, you might not notice it nowadays, but I was quite the talker.” Cas joked, before he went on: “So I had fallen asleep at my desk, but I awoke to you carrying me to bed, it was briefly and I dropped off again right after, but I never forgot and you never even mentioned it, but it was very sweet.”

“Ahw, thanks.” Dean said, before clearing his throat and reading out: “@Winter_Wolf101 wants to know: ‘What’s the weirdest fan interaction you’ve ever had?’ Had any already, Cas?”

“Not really, unless you count that girl at the supermarket, who I made eyecontact with and she just dropped a thing full of eggs in surprise.” Cas replied.

Dean laughed at that, before he answered: “I think that had to be the time a girl asked me to sign panties and she just handed me a pair, like she carried them around just in case. Note, this was not during a convention or something, she just happened to have one in her pocket.”

“What?” Cas asked.

“I don’t know either, man, that’s why it was so weird.” Dean shrugged.

“That is quite unusual.”

“Next question is from @Why_do_you_want_to_know, who asks: ‘What is Cas’ weirdest habit?’ I think we answered this in the husband tag video and I mentioned your eating habits with burgers.” Dean answered.

“Did you think of a new answer?” Cas asked.

“Lemme think,” Dean hummed, then: “Oh, yeah, Claire mentioned this to me. I hadn’t even noticed until she pointed it out, but that’s just because I haven’t lived without you for over a decade. But you don’t really blink whenever you’re listening to someone.”

“Really?” Cas frowned.

“It’s nothing bothersome or anything and I’m not even sure that counts as a habit, but it is peculiar.” Dean was quick to say.

“I guess, I don’t really feel the need to blink usually.” Cas said thoughtfully.

“Dude just you saying that would have made it into the docu.” Dean grinned, “Which brings us to the next question from @Shazzy_Cat_1903 and they ask: ‘We all know that Cas is an angel, but if Dean were a mythical creature, which would he be?’ What do you think?”

“I would say you’re also an angel, since you’re so caring and nice, but I don’t think you would agree with that.” Cas answered.

“Yeah.” Dean replied, “I like could become an angel, but I’d say no, just because I think it would suck to have to answer to God, as a human it’s at least optional.”

Cas choked on a breath, before he started giggling at that. Getting a glint in his eyes, Dean went on: “Or I’d go full demon, just to make us Romeo and Juliet and God would be sitting on his big throne in heaven just face-palming while you try to sneak around with me, forgetting he’s all knowing.”

Cas giggled some more, but he managed: “No, I’d try to get you to stop being a demon to make it alright again and you’d be grumpy about it.”

Dean laughed too and agreed: “Yes, yes, I would be. Very grumpy that I do not get to be a demon with little horns and a pitchfork.”

“I think that’s about as accurate as an angel having a harp, Dean.” Cas told him with a fond eyeroll.

“Aha, and how would you know that, angel?” Dean joked, getting another eyeroll.

Then more serious, he said: “Maybe I’d be a vampire, they’re cool and if you’re an angel then at least I’m immortal and get to spend forever with you.”

“That would be nice.” Cas said softly, before it cut to Dean reading the next question: “@Destiel_heaven, god, we did that ourselves didn’t we.”

“Technically it was Sam, who came up with it.” Cas said.

Dean pointed into the camera accusingly and said: “If you’re seeing this Sam, this is all your fault.”

A small message appeared: If I recalled correctly it was you, who first said the name out loud for the internet :( XP ~Sam

“But what did they ask?” Cas asked.

“Uhm,” Deans eyes flickered back to his phone screen, “‘How long have you gone without talking to each other? And if you guys fight, who is the one to apologize first and make up?’”

“I don’t think we don’t talk to each other when we’re mad.” Castiel said.

“Yeah, I’m usually too sad about not seeing you that I try to make up as quickly as I can, and I think you do the same.” Dean agreed.

“But we usually don’t argue about important things, it’s mostly stupid stuff like you using my charger.” Cas said.

“It’s a pretty even balance, I’d say.”

“And I’d agree.”

“Cool, moving on then, @Lightningbugqueen, what a name by the way, wants to know: ‘How have Cas’ students been acting after they found out about Dean?’ Care to enlighten us, dear?” Dean read the next one.

“Mostly the same, it gets hard to be impressed when they have to listen to me talk about American History and force them to do assignments, but there are some questions here and there whenever you upload a video and a few of them did not trust me for the week between you taking a break and your documentary about me.” Castiel answered.

“First time your teacherness saved you from having to be social.” Dean grinned.

Castiel pouted: “I don’t think teacherness is a word, Dean.”

“I thought you taught History not English.” Dean was not deterred.

“I’m not that unsocial.” Cas whined.

“I know, sunshine, but you can be awkward. I meant it as a good thing.” Dean said gently.

It was silent for a beat, then Cas said: “I guess you are right that it is nice that this isn’t effecting work in the classroom. I’d hate to think it would be my fault if they got distracted and failed.”

“You are literally the sweetest person ever when you talk about your students.” Dean told him, getting squinted confused eyes and a cocked head in return.

Dean explained: “You care about them all so much and you want them to succeed, it’s really sweet, honestly.”

“Oh.” Cas didn’t really know what to respond to that, so he just said: “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Dean smiled, before turning back to his phone to read: “@Dean-no-no asks: ‘Does Cas get jealous of all the fans swooning over Dean?’ Only you can answer that one, angel.”

“I wouldn’t call in jealousy per se.” Cas said, getting two raised brows from Dean who remembered that the whole reason Cas barged in on that live stream so long ago was because of jealousy.

“Don’t look at me like that, I wasn’t done yet.” Cas told him, “I wouldn’t call in jealousy, more possessiveness. Jealousy implies that I feel like I don’t get the same attention as your fans, but you do still pay a lot of attention to me, it’s sometimes more that I feel some comments go a bit too far for the connection there is.”

“What?” Dean asked, “I get the start, but that last part.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s- They know a lot more about you then you from them, it’s just how it is, but sometimes comments come across as if you’re both the best of buds and it can go a bit too far in my opinion.” Cas explained.

“Ah.” Dean got it, “Yeah, sometimes it can be a bit personal or uncomfortable.”

Cas nodded as Dean went on: “Now the last question is from @FanFictionIsLife1234, who asks: ‘What was the moment you realized you were in love with the other?’ Ending on a sappy note.”

“You love sappy notes.” Cas teased lightly.

“I absolutely do, but that’s just between us two. I think I answered this before, about us in the forest, but I’m curious about your answer.” Dean said.

“But that’s when you realized you liked me, when did you realize you loved me, I think that’s different. I knew I liked you when I stayed with you for the holidays and I just never felt more at home and happy than I did that summer, but I knew I loved you when we’d just moved in together and suddenly I realized how domestic we’d gotten.” Castiel answered.

Dean got a thoughtful expression on his face, before he said: “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am.” Cas grinned smugly.

“Little bastard.” Dean told him fondly, “But I do like your answer, most people don’t realize it’s the little things that really keep people together.”

“It’s kind of like in The Lord of the Rings, it’s the little things that keeps the evil at bay.” Cas agreed getting a look from Dean, “I’ve spend time with Charlie lately.”

“Ah, yeah that’ll do that to you.” Dean smiled, “But as for my answer, I think, god this is hard, I’ve always loved you it seems and picking something is hard, cause it was this slow built and suddenly I didn’t know how to exist without loving you, you know?”

Cas leaned into his side and said: “That is also a very sweet and good answer.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It was quiet for a moment, then Dean cleared his throat and said: “Well, I think I’m ending the video now, hopefully you all enjoyed it.”

“I’m sure they did.” Cas smiled, making eyecontact and getting a smile back that could be the definition of hearteyes.

Cutting to the endcard Dean did his outro: “Like this video if you did, leave a comment, hit the subscribe button and ring that bell, there are links to more of me and Cas over here and I’ll see you on the road, bye!”

Then the video ended.

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

When Dean talked about loving

Cas my heart exploded, they’re

just made for each other.

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

Lollll little demon dean killed me

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

THE QUEERS HAVE BEEN FED BY THE GAY OVERLORDS

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

If you told me a year ago that

Dean would be sappy with his

husband on main, I’d have

laughed, what a timeline to live in

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

Who is that girl with the panties

I feel like I need to know more

about this, wtf

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

Dean can carry Cass, get yo self a

swole man

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

fuck guess it’s time to write a

Romeo and Juliet angel/demon

AU now, fuck

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

This man calls his husband the

sappiest nicknames, little bastard

and dude, get a man who can do

both lol

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

theyre so sweet, id puke if it wasnt

so cute

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

Cas is my spirit animal when it

comes to social interaction

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

THEYRE SO CUTEEEEEE!

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

#RR writing #spn fanfic #spn AU #SPN #supernatural #Destiel #Destiel AU #married destiel #destiel youtuber au #dean winchester #castiel #castiel/dean

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wilwywaylan · 4 years

Text

The Artist above and the Revolutionnary below - Part 4

Fandom : les Misérables

Modern!AU, Enjolras x Grantaire, 3473 words

Last part of the fic for the Same Prompt Challenge ! Finally, it’s done !

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Also on AO3 !

Step one : wash self. It would do no good to present himself to Enjolras looking like some kind of cave troll. So Grantaire took a shower, taking great care to wash his hair and untangle the curls. Once mostly dry and dressed in clean clothes, he aimed for the kitchen. Not for the coffee, even if he started by making himself a nice cup, but for something far more ambitious : he was going to cook.

Four hours later, his kitchen was a mess, every horizontal surface was covered in flour and there was even some sticking to some vertical parts, the sink contained more dishes that he believed he owned, and he was in dire need of another shower. But there was a whole plate of cookies in the oven, and it smelled quite good. Not that Grantaire wanted to brag, of course. He didn't have any time for it, anyway, he was way too busy watching the biscuits by the small window. He didn't want...he couldn't mess them up. He didn't have the courage nor the ingredients to start again.

But luckily for him, the cookies got out deliciously golden, and absolutely perfect. He transferred them into a metal box, resisting the urge to eat one himself. After a second shower that got rid of most of the flour, he went to sit at his easel. Now came the third, and most important part. Cookies were a nice touch, but he wouldn't be forgiven just with this, Bahorel's super secret recipe notwithstanding. No, he needed to find the perfect present that would melt Enjolras' anger like a cube of ice during summer. And nothing could be more of a perfect present than something handmade, or in his case, hand-drawn.

The white page was almost intimidating, at first, more than during one of his assignments, even. Assignments, he could bullshit his way through them if inspiration didn't strike. But this.... this was way more important. Okay, no, maybe not. He couldn't claim a cute boy was more important than his studies. It was important in a different way, but he couldn't just pretend he knew what he was doing. He needed to know. He needed to make it perfect.

The first strokes were hesitant, almost shy, barely scratching the surface. But as he went, the picture in his mind grew clearer, his gestures became more assured, and he started working faster.

When he finally moved, the sun had set, his neck was sending jolts of pain up his skull, his fingers hurt, and his hoodie had lost all pretention to be an actual color. He stretched, sending his arms above his head, only realizing now that his stomach was growling. Probably loud enough to wake his neighbors up. But he didn't care. He felt well. The painting on his easel was probably one of his finest works since... oh, several years. Enjolras stood in the middle of it ; Grantaire had painted him dressed in a XIXe century style, with a red jacket with a cockade pinned on the lapel, a black cravat resting undone on a white shirt under a black waistcoat. There was a smudge of blood on the cheek, but he was brandishing a red flag above his head. The whole sky behind him was a brilliant whirlwind of pink, orange and yellow, and a timid sun was stroking Enjolras' face with gold rays. Any critic would have dismissed the piece as "overly pompous" and "pretentious", but Grantaire felt a mix of pride and anxiety watching it. It certainly was fine, but didn't he exaggerate, making Enjolras' face softer than it was ? Maybe his eyes weren't fierce enough, not full of fire enough ? And what if Enjolras didn't enjoy a portrait of himself ? Oh well, too late now, it was done. Tomorrow, he would make his move. But for now, he wanted nothing more than sleep. He made his way to his room, abandoning his clothes on the way, and dropped on the bed. The remnants of Bahorel's impromptu breakfast were still on the nightstand, and he devoured the rest of the croissants. Once sated, he wrapped himself in the blankets and just laid there, content and sated, for the first time in days. Maybe things were looking up, after all.

~*~

Next morning saw Grantaire up earlier than he'd been in months. He'd woken up almost with the sun, and had been since tossing and turning under the blankets, trying to keep himself busy until it was a decent time to put his plan in motion. He didn't know about Enjolras' sleeping habits, and didn't want to wake him up. That wouldn't put him in good dispositions. So he browsed the internet, trying to distract himself until it was time to move.

At around 10 AM, he decided to act. He rolled out of bed and got ready, going through the motions with application, concentrating on each gesture to ignore the way his heart seemed to try to get free from his chest. He took the box of cookies, the painting, and snuck out into the hallway. It was dark and deserted. Perfect. He went down the stairs, his socked feet silent on the tiles. Still no one. He managed to reach door 32 without a hitch, without any nosy neighbor opening their door to see who was playing spies in the hallway. He carefully put the painting down, put the box beside it, with a small message he'd spent at least fifteen minutes writing. Nothing fancy, just a heartfelt "I'm sorry I've been an ass". No need to start babbling on writing. Good.

He rang the bell... and ran away, up the stairs, almost falling down and hitting the ramp in his hast. He had barely reached his story, when he heard a door open. There was a moment of silence. And a thought hit him right between the eyes : what if Enjolras decided to climb here to see who put the presents on his doorstep ? He'd see him crouching behind the railing like an idiot. He dashed inside his apartment, closed the door, then opened it a tiny sliver. No Enjolras materialized on the landing, but there was a rustling. Like things being picked up and carried inside. So he had found the presents. Very good.

Grantaire retreated inside, pondering on the next move for a second. He could start working on his assignments again, clean a bit of his flat, maybe scrub his bathroom. Things would go back to how they were before all these guitar shenanigans. But that wasn't what he wanted, right ? So he needed to follow the plan.

He needed to rummage a little (a lot) through the mess accumulated under his bed and in his cupboard, but he finally unearthed an old, battered case. The guitar inside had lost a bit of its shine, but the intricate patterns on it, flowers and clouds, were still as vivid as always. He took it back to his window and sat as comfortably as possible. It was out of tune, of course, after so much time in storage, but the gestures came back to him easily, and soon, it was fit to play. He stroked the strings, just enjoying the sound for a few seconds, then started to warm up. The notes flew by the window, carried by the wind, soft and round at each vibration of the strings, climbing the scales up and down. His fingers were dancing, almost on their own, modulating the melody almost perfectly.

Under him, a window opened. He didn't hear footsteps, but he imagined them all the same. Time to go to step five. Or six, he didn't remember. He abandoned the scales for real melody. Still no noise coming from under him. Oh well, he could still play for himself, couldn't he ? After all, he did like this song. And so, he started singing softly, almost under his breath.

Lay down in the stars, my bonny lass Lay down in my arms, we'll make it last The senses aspire to this far greater time As the rivers flow your heart will be mine

He played the song from start to finish, enjoying how easily it was all coming back to him, the lyrics and the melody, how delightful it was to play again. The last notes fled outside, fading slowly as the strings stopped singing. Grantaire leaned on the guitar, feeling the vibrations stop under his fingers. The silence after a song always had a special quality, soft and serene, like it was another part, something that completed the song.

- Are you there ?

Enjolras' voice cut the silence, made him jump so hard that he almost dropped the guitar. He did call for him. Enjolras wanted to talk to him ! Do not ruin this, play it cool. He walked to the window and leaned out. Enjolras was peering up at him, and Grantaire's heart gave a little tug at the beautiful eyes fixed on him, so large and so blue that they seemed to hold the whole sky. He also noticed that he didn't look as angry as yesterday. Or perhaps he was very good at hiding his feelings. Grantaire composed himself a friendly smile, and answered :

- I am, yes. Hello, Enjolras.

- Hello. I heard you playing, so I wondered....

- If it was me, or the ghost of Christmas past ?

Enjolras frowned, and Grantaire remembered that he was supposed to be nice and friendly, not rile him up again by making fun of him.

- Sorry, he added. What can I do for you ?

- Someone put a box of cookies and a very nice painting on my doorstep, and I was wondering if you knew something about it.

The urge to roll his eyes was stronger than ever, but he refrained heroically.

- Why yes. Do you enjoy cookies, at least ? Because I didn't really ask...

- Oh, so it was you ?

- Yes ? I mean, I signed the note, so....

Enjolras frowned again, more perplexed that angry this time.

- Yes, but.... you.... didn't really introduce yourself. Your friend called you "R" that time, but I didn't know that it stood for "Grantaire", so...

This time, Grantaire facepalmed. Count on him to be so stupid he forgot to officially introduced himself.

- Sorry. I'm Grantaire. Pleased to meet you.

- Pleased to meet you too.

Grantaire tried not to smile too wildly.

- So, what do I owe the pleasure ?

- I heard the guitar. Were you playing ?

- Ah yes, I felt like getting it out of storage and tickling the strings a little.

- That was really great ! I didn't know you were such a good player !

He really needed to stop complimenting him, because Grantaire wasn't sure he was going to maintain his composure for long.

- It's been a while since I've played, but....

- Do you think you could... come down, and we'll play ?

What ? Did he hear right ? Was he....? This was a dream. This could only be a dream. Did Enjolras really ask him to come back ? But he was watching him with his beautiful eyes, and still looking expectantly up at him, and pinching himself didn't suddenly wake him up. That was reality.

When the information reached his brain, Grantaire grabbed his guitar and, once again, ran all the way to Enjolras' door. As he knocked, he suddenly realized that he had bypassed shoes entirely. Too bad, Enjolras was already opening the door, his cat in his arms. Grantaire scratched the little head between the hair, refrained from doing the same to Enjolras.

- So, he said instead, I heard you wanted to play ?

Enjolras lead him to the balcony again, where two cups of coffee were waiting, smoking quietly. Grantaire was both oddly touched by the welcoming gesture, and impressed at how Enjolras seemed to be sure that he would come done. But then again, maybe Bahorel was right and his crush *was* visible from space.

- Anything you want to play ? Grantaire asked once he’d sat down on the rickety chair.

- Can you play Wonderwall ?

- Of course, I taught you. Together ?

Enjolras picked up his own instrument. He carefully placed his hands as Grantaire had shown him, tuned it a little, then turned to face him. Grantaire counted the rhythm as he had taught it, careful of not going too fast.

It was weird, playing together like this. Enjolras did lack a bit in rhythm, forcing Grantaire to adjust, but nothing he couldn't deal with. He didn't dare sing at first, rather enjoying Enjolras' voice, but after the first verse, he just let himself get carried away. It was great, moving like this, in unison, almost like they were two halves of the same thing. Grantaire didn't want to read too much into the situation, but it was... exhilarating. It felt like flying. Like being, for a few seconds, at the top of the world, with him.

It ended, because of course, it had to end, leaving Grantaire disoriented, and a little breathless. Probably the singing, of course. But Enjolras looked as affected as him, so maybe he hadn't imagined the connexion they shared for a minute or two. He tried to play it cool, picking at the keys to retune the strings. Enjolras watched him do with interest.

- Can you play something else ? he asked suddenly.

- Of course. What do you like ?

- Anything you want.

Anything ? Grantaire didn't have to pick his brain to find a song. Of course, that would be a very daring move, but Fortune favored the bold and all that. What did he risk, except a slap and being thrown over the balcony rail ? (probably not). He started playing the chords, softly at first, then seeing that Enjolras didn't run away, launched into the song.

Wise men say only fools rush in But I can't help falling in love with you...

It was a good thing he knew the words by heart, because Enjolras was so close their knees were brushing, and Grantaire had great trouble stopping himself from jumping each time he touched him. His heart was beating fast, so fast, and he was sure he could hear Enjolras', beating in tune. Or that may just be wishful thinking.

He didn't know how he got to the end of the song without running away or bungling anything. He was ready to jump out of his skin at each light touch. And as he lifted his head, it was to discover the beautiful blue eyes set on him, pinning him in place. He couldn't turn his head, he couldn't say anything, he could just look at him, and hope his eyes would do the talking.

Suddenly, Jude jumped on his master's lap, almost knocking the guitar over, breaking the spell. Enjolras patted him as he kneading his pants, and asked :

- This song...

- Yes.... Did you like it ?

- A lot... It's very pretty.

- Very, yes.

Perfect. When did they land in a potboiler and get turned into shy teenagers ? Grantaire would have slapped himself if he didn't fear looking like an idiot. He'd always hated that genre, so to suddenly find himself like this, babbling and muttering, incapable of speaking his mind... They'd never get there, not like that. Someone needed to take the reins of the conversation for something to happen, anything. He opened his mouth, but Enjolras beat him to it.

- Did you choose it for a reason ?

Ah, short and to the point. Enjolras certainly didn't embarrass himself with subtleties. But now, he was expecting an answer. And this meant Grantaire needed to think very hard about the answer he was going to give, and quick. And Enjolras was still looking at him, so he needed to focus extra hard to not say anything stupid or incriminating. And he needed to think, and to think quickly, instead of being sidetracked like this.

- I....

Great start, Grantaire. Now say something, or he's going to lose his patience, and maybe his temper. But what could he say ? That he really, really wanted to kiss him ? Hold his hand and the rest too ? Set his life at his feet ? Well, yes, this was what he wanted. But he couldn't say it, or Enjolras would run away. But he needed to say something now. Anything.

- I like it.

Oh great. This time, he hit his head against the guitar, lightly, of course.

- Is that the only reason ?

Grantaire took a deep breath, lifted his head. There they were. No going back now.

- I....

It didn't want to come. He was ready to say it, that was the best moment, the only moment, it was perfect, the atmosphere, the guitar, everything, and he couldn't say it. Count on him to be so stupid he couldn't confess his feelings.

A hand closed on his and squeezed gently. He looked down at their fingers, then back at Enjolras' face, who kept his eyes down.

- I don't want your whole life, he said, but I could... take your hand, if you want.

Grantaire was a bit tempted to laugh, but he refrained.

- Would you, really ? He asked, very low.

- I want to try, at least. If you want to.

He was looking at him, now, with such an open expression that Grantaire almost wanted to scream and tackle him. But no. Act like a normal person. He lifted the hand Enjolras wasn't holding, stroked his cheek, very slowly. His movements were measured, to give him all the time he needed to move back. But Enjolras didn't move back. Not when Grantaire bent down, very, very slowly to kiss him. It was soft, almost too much. Clumsy, too, like Enjolras wasn't used to being kissed. They just kept like this for a moment, barely moving. Not enough for Grantaire, he wanted more, way more, he wanted to ravish him, to leave him red, breathless, to hold him tight and never let go. But it was perfect none-the-less.

They parted for breath, and because Grantaire's neck was starting to hurt. Enjolras was looking at him, his cheeks a little red, his smile a little shy. Positively adorable. Without letting go of Grantaire's hand, he moved his chair a little closer, until he could lean against his shoulder. It was not the most comfortable way to sit, but Grantaire wouldn't have let go for anything in the world. Still, he felt compelled to ask :

- Are you sure you want this ? I mean....

Enjolras moved a little, and he wanted to hold him back, but he didn't step aside, not even a little.

- What do you mean ?

- Well... I'm me, and....

This time, Enjolras shifted to be able to look at him without leaving his shoulder.

- Yes, I know.

- Are you sure this is what I want ? Because....

- I am sure, yes. I know what I'm getting, and what I don't know, I will discover. And I'm sure I will like it.

A very large emotion got stuck in Grantaire's throat, effectively cutting all the words he could have used. So he just held Enjolras' hand tighter, and twisted a little to be able to lay a kiss on his forehead.

They sat like this for a moment in silence, watching the sparrows fly by. Grantaire's thumb was stroking the soft skin on Enjolras' hand, very gently. Suddenly, Enjolras asked :

- It wasn't... too awkward, was it ? When I said... (He gestured vaguely with his free hand.) About your life, and....

- It was, Grantaire chuckled, but that was adorable. It's very... you.

Enjolras laughed a little.

- You better get used to it, it seems that I'm very clumsy at speaking my feelings.

- Don't worry, I like it a lot.

- Good. Now would you maybe play that song for me again ?

Grantaire let go of Enjolras' hand with a hint of regret, and took his guitar back. Immediately, Enjolras settled back against his shoulder. Grantaire didn't know if he could play with someone against him like that, but he certainly wasn't going to ask him to move. Certainly not. He stroked the strings again, and started the song a second time. Enjolras was warm and heavy against him, and it was perfect. The notes started to fly above the roof, to tell everyone listening that they had finally found each other.

Songs are True Life Song by Jon Anderson, and Can’t help falling in love with you by Elvis Presley

#les miserables #enjolras #grantaire #enjoltaire #same prompt challenge #dorks #such dorks #they are so dorky #I love them

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captainkippen · 4 years

Text

RECKLESS • A PUNK! TYRUS AU

Summary:

RATED TEEN for smoking and swearing.

TJ never expected to fall in love with a guy who hung out in the library for fun. Cyrus never expected to kiss a guy in the middle of a mosh pit. Once in a while, life surprises everybody.

Chapter One: Respect The Tub

"Shut up. I'm having a mid-life crisis."

"You're twenty-one."

"Fine, an almost-quarter-life crisis or something, whatever."

"You know, I've seen you overreact before, but this time really takes the cake. Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Pfft. It's a great idea. The best idea I've ever had."

"You literally just said yourself that you're having a crisis."

TJ let out a long suffering sigh and glared at Marty. Andi snickered from where she was perched on the edge of the tub behind him. She had two gloved hands covered in bright red sludge buried deep in TJ's hair.

"Don't worry, Marts," she said. "I used to help Bex do her hair all the time when she got bored. Well… one time. If it goes wrong, we can just cut it off. Hair grows back usually."

"Usually?!" TJ spluttered, attempting to turn and face her only to be held in place by her firm grip.

Marty snorted. "Still sure about this?"

"Shut up, Marty. Jeez. You're worse than my mom."

"Hey, your shut your mouth about your mom. That woman is a saint. How she put up with your annoying all these years without committing murder, I’ll never know."

That earned him the bird and he snorted again, blowing smoke into T.J's face. The bathroom of their crappy apartment didn't have a smoke detector, which was probably the only reason Marty was even sat in the room with them.

"Gross," Andi said with an appreciative smile. She might have stolen the cigarette for herself had her hands not been busy. TJ wrinkled his nose at the two of them. He wouldn't say anything, it hadn't worked the first thousand times and it wouldn't work now, but he had learned that if he made enough disgusted faces Marty would eventually put the cigarettes away.

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes at TJ's face and stubbed it out in the sink. "I'm meant to be quitting anyway. I promised Buffy."

"You made that promise like three months ago."

"Well I gotta have at least one flaw, otherwise it wouldn't be fair to you mere mortals, would it now?" Marty grinned and stood up, stretching his arms up until his back gave a satisfying click.

"Careful bro," TJ said. "If your head gets any bigger you won't be able to get out of the door."

It was Marty's turn to cheerfully flip him off. As he wandered out of the bathroom he called over his shoulder asking if they wanted any snacks, even though TJ was pretty sure he knew they only had ketchup and coffee left in the kitchen.

"So, this mid-life crisis of yours," Andi said, slipping some more dye on to TJ's head. It slid against his scalp cold and unpleasant, dripping down his neck in a wet mess. "You think Epic Death Red is gonna fix it?"

He considered this for a moment. The brand name was splashed bright and obvious on the bottle, and it glared at him from the sink. It had made them laugh at the time, but now it was in his hair it felt a little daunting. "Nah, probably not. But it'll make me feel better about it, feels productive."

"Turning in your assignments would probably feel more productive."

"Hey, I thought we banned school talk from the tub. The tub rules are sacred. Respect the tub."

"I'm just saying-"

"Did you finish your figure drawing assignment yet?"

"...touché."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. After a few minutes, Marty loped back in holding a paper plate with an unwrapped Twinkie carefully cut into three pieces on it. Andi let him shove a piece unceremoniously into her mouth without a word.

It had become a sort of tradition. Well... not a tradition. TJ didn't know what you would call it. A habit maybe? Anyways, it had become usual for the three of them to hang out in the bathroom. Sometimes they'd be joined by friends and roommates. Two or three of them cramped in the tub, maybe splitting a bottle of cheap wine between them all, with someone else balanced on the toilet seat and another sprawled across the floor. But today, everyone else was out at work or class or living their life in some tub-free environment.

It was only TJ and Marty that lived in the apartment of the three of them. They had two other roommates, Walker and Jonah, who were pretty decent guys. Walker was an art major like Andi and Jonah had awesome taste in music. Sometimes he and TJ would walk to campus together, they were both based in the music department, but other than that and a shared interest in sports and skateboards they didn't really have anything in common. Buffy, Marty's girlfriend and (by apparent coincidence) Andi's childhood best friend with whom she was now reconnecting, would sometimes swing by to join them too. However, her disgust at just how useless four boys could be at keeping their apartment in order mostly kept her at bay. Old take-out containers were not part of her ‘aesthetic’ or whatever. TJ was never sure if he was glad about that or not, the two of them spent most of the time squabbling, but she did make Marty happy and it was hard not to be cheerful when Marty was.

"So I had this dream right," TJ said.

"Oh God."

"No, it's good right. Because it made me, like, realise I should be doing something."

Andi and Marty exchanged amused looks. They were used to it, TJ's various whims and impulses and Important Decisions About The Future That Usually Turned Out To Be Not So Important. They found it funny. TJ might be offended if it weren't for the fact he had listened to them spout of conspiracy theories more times than he could count.

"Go on," Andi prompted.

"Okay, so like... I'm standing on this cliff, right? Like on the very very edge of it. And I'm staring out to sea all dramatic and shit, and then suddenly it gives way underneath me, right? And I'm falling and falling, and I look down and there's just like... nothing there."

Another pause. "...and that's it?"

"That's it. That's the dream."

"Okay, lay it out for me. How did you go from falling off a cliff to dyeing your hair red? Give me the logic. I wanna follow your train of thought here."

He takes a deep breath, trying to shake away the lightheadedness the mingling scents of cigarettes and ammonia is bringing on, then twists around to face her.

"When you're falling to your death you're supposed to reminisce about, like, all the good shit you did in your life before you fall to your death right? And for me it was a total blank. Like nothing. Like I haven't lived."

Marty groaned. "Not this again."

"What?"

"You have this same crisis like every other month. Last time you wanted to 'live your life' we got arrested for trespassing on private property."

"Well, if you had run faster-"

"Fuck you! I run faster than you, asshole. It's not my fault there were literal guard dogs-"

"Guys!" Andi interrupted before they could really get going. They both muttered half hearted apologies with a huff. Marty sighed and leaned back, stretching his legs up to rest on the edge of the bath.

"The point is," TJ resumed, knocking Marty’s foot away from his face. "The point is that I've done, like, zero important things in my life. And we're adults now, y'know? I can't just bum around doing nothing forever. I wanna do something that matters."

Andi rolled her eyes. "'Adult' is a strong word for a guy who just this week learned what fabric softener is."

"I never claimed to be Martha Stewart."

Marty laughed. "You're criminal enough to be."

"Okay but," Andi said, before another bickering match could spark up. "The real point is... we're only in our twenties. Pretty sure we're not meant to have everything figured out yet, right? I mean, we haven't even graduated yet."

TJ and Marty both hissed.

"The G word is also banned, remember?"

Andi made a face, but didn't press the point. She hated thinking about the future just as much as the guys did. None of them knew what they wanted to do. They spent all their time in sleazy bars moshing to terrible local bands, getting drunk in a moulding tub and watching Andi paint in the student studios. TJ couldn't imagine any of them with nine-to-five jobs, commuting or working for some big evil corporation. He said as much.

"It's two thousand and five," Marty complained in response. "We should totally have robots to do all the boring jobs by now."

TJ agreed. How could humanity not yet be at the point where they had hover boards and flying cars? They had the internet for crying out loud. The possibilities were endless.

"So what're you gonna do?" Andi asked. “How are you, TJ Kippen, going to change the world?

TJ pondered this for a moment.

"I'm gonna start a band."

Sometimes Cyrus seriously hated his friends.

Not in an actual 'I wish I didn't know you' way but in an 'oh man, you suck so hard right now' kind of way. Tonight was one of those times. He would never say that to them, of course, he had no desire to hurt anybody’s feelings, but a little mental cursing never hurt anyone.

He shivered and pulled his jacket tighter around himself. Rain smattered down on the concrete around him. Water seeped through the canvas of his sneakers, soaking his socks and mood both at once. He was cold, wet and fed up. Buffy had asked him to meet her here, outside some dingy rock club filled with scary kids wearing studs and too much makeup, but she was nowhere to be found. She had answered her phone when he called, but the line mostly crackled and all he got was a muffled "-inside" from here.

Whatever. It was fine. It was totally cool that he was stuck out here being eyed by suspicious punks in leather jackets and scary scene kids with scary scene hair. It was great. He could totally cope with the fact that the bouncer wouldn't let him in because he forgot his I.D. and apparently he looked like he was twelve years old. Totally, totally fine. Really, it couldn’t get any worse.

It was as if the universe had heard this very thought and decided to have the last laugh. A large truck roared down the street, sending a fresh wave of freezing water over his legs and shoes.

Screw this. He was going home.

He hadn't even wanted to come out in the first place. He should be back in his nice cosy dorm room, preferably doing the lit assignment he had due in on Monday, maybe wrapped in a blanket. Two blankets, even. Yeah, his dorm sounded pretty great right now, even if he did have the roommate from hell. Fate had other plans, though. Right as he made the decision to head back, he heard his name being called. Turning, he saw Buffy waving frantically from the door. Huffing to himself, he turned back again and headed to meet her.

"He's with me," Buffy said with a smile to the bouncer. The guy looked doubtful as Cyrus slipped passed, but he didn't question it again.

"The reception is really bad in here," Buffy said apologetically, pulling him into a sideways hug. "But you found the place okay, right? I mean you're here, so that's good. I didn't think you'd come. I’m glad you did.”

She seemed unusually antsy, and he suspected she was a little nervous about introducing him to her friends. He would be nervous too if he was her, he knew he wasn’t much, especially to a group of cool and interesting people. He decided it was best not to tell her that he almost didn't come. He had been perfectly ready to stay in his dorm all night, even though it was a Friday night and he had little to no social life at the current moment in time with all the work his professors had been throwing at him. Except, Roommate-From-Hell-Reed had come banging into the room, all but yelling into his cellphone to some girl. Cyrus had been able to stand it for about ten minutes, and then he got tired of hearing the word "baby". A night at some dive being shoved around by sweaty drunks wasn't much of an improvement, but at least he didn't have to listen to Reed's obnoxious flirting.

"It's good you came," Buffy continued. "You don’t get out enough. I think you'll like the band too, and they're friends with Andi and Marty. They’re pretty good - I mean, TJ is a little obnoxious, but they’ve already got a big following on MySpace, and they’re close to getting a deal with Cranked...” Cyrus let her pull him through the crowd, nodding in all the right places but struggling to keep up. Who was TJ? Cranked? What was that? He felt like she was speaking another language. “

They've even got some songs recorded now... did you know Gus- you know Gus Knight? He works at the dining hall. Apparently he’s local and has this whole studio set up in his mom’s basement. He has all the equipment and everything. It's crazy.”

"Crazy," Cyrus agreed, narrowly avoiding getting elbowed by a teary girl gesturing wildly at a boy that looked too out of it to be taking in what she said. The whole arena smelled like puked. He prayed that none got on him. "So when are these Cranked guys meant to go on?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Cranked is a record label, Cy. The band’s called Conduit For Gods.”

The problem was not that Cyrus wasn’t into music. He liked music. He thought it was fun, especially if you could sing bad karaoke to it, and who didn't like to listen to their iPod on the bus? But Buffy's friends' world seemed to revolve around music, more specifically punk music, and the whole scene that came with it. He had accepted a few of their invitations to hang out just to be polite, but most of them involved parties and shows. Parties and shows meant drinking and coming home with wild stories. Cyrus wasn’t a wild stories kind of guy.

As a kid, he had really wanted to be a wild stories kind of guy. He’d longed to be one of the popular kids who knew how to make friends with everybody, who was never bored on a Friday night and wasn’t totally invisible. He had never succeeded in becoming that kind of guy. Even at college, where he'd figured it would be easy. All the television shows and magazines had made it seem like that was what you were meant to do in college - party and drink. Become your own person. Become interesting.

What he'd learned from actually being in college? He didn't like to party and drink. He had no problem with other people doing it, obviously, but he'd rather he was far away from them while they did. Drunk people had a habit of throwing up on him, and in crowds like this Cyrus had lost his shoe more than once. They might be drenched in grimy rainwater, but tonight he felt like keeping his shoes firmly on his feet. Preferably not covered in somebody's dinner. The other thing he’d learned was that he didn’t really vibe with the whole alternative music scene... or it didn’t vibe with him. He liked things neat and non-violent. In his experience, college-aged punks liked things sweaty and aggressive. Sometimes with a hint of insane thrown in. It’s not like it scared him or anything, he just didn’t want to die in a mosh pit.

“They’re on at ten. You want me to grab you a drink? I got us a table - I know you don’t like being in the crowd.”

He gave her a grateful smile, forgiving and forgetting the last half an hour in one fell swoop. Buffy was a really good friend not just sometimes, but all the time, even if she did make him hang out with scary people that wore studs and eyeliner. She always respected his boundaries.

As she disappeared towards the bar, he meandered his way over to the table she’d pointed out to him. There were a couple of bags and jackets strewn across the booth’s seats, but no people present. Scanning the crowd, he managed to spot Marty and Andi stood off to the side with a couple of other people. Andi caught his eye and waved him over, but he shook his head. She rolled her eyes, but smiled and sent him a thumbs up anyway. He smiled back.

Andi was a nice girl. A cool girl. She wore her hair cropped short and spiky, had a leather jacket with her name painted artfully across the back and her skin was constantly smudged with paint or coal or glue from her art projects. She’d known Buffy forever, and Cyrus was still surprised someone as cool as her was willing to hang out with a loser like him. It was the same with Buffy, honestly. He was always one step behind the laughter and she was the one making people laugh. Once, he’d made the mistake of voicing these thoughts out loud and Buffy had smacked him over the head with a copy of Rolling Stone, telling him he was being stupid and that he was cool. He knew she was lying, but he appreciated the lie anyway.

A figure loomed over him and he turned.

“That was quick,” he started to say, but the words died on his lips. It wasn’t Buffy.

“Um, hi,” Said the most beautiful boy in the history of all existence.

Bright red hair. Green eyes ringed in black. Torn up denim jacket over plaid over faded t-shirt. Cyrus mentally catalogued all of these things and tried to unstick his tongue from where it seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth. He wasn’t sure what to do. How did English work again? What were words?

In the end, he stuck one awkward hand out before he could stop himself and stuttered out a greeted. The guy took it with a warm smile and shook.

“I’m Cyrus,” Cyrus finally managed to say.

Understanding dawned on the guy’s face. “Oh, you’re Buffy’s friend. That’s cool. I’m TJ, Marty’s roommate,” he jerked a thumb back towards the crowd. Much to Cyrus’ horror, he realised Andi and Marty were watching them with interest. He dropped TJ’s hand quickly. “I was just grabbing the keys to the van, could you pass me that bag?”

Cyrus did as asked, expecting TJ to take it and flee from the obviously crazy person who had just shaken his hand like they were at some sort of business meeting instead of a nightclub, but he didn’t move from where he was standing. Instead, he rummaged through the bag for a second and then withdraw a set of car keys and dumped it back on the table. Turning, he signalled to one of the guys in the crowd and launched the keys through the crowd.

“So are you sticking around after the show?” TJ said, turning back to Cyrus with a curious smile.

No. Cyrus was going to go home and shower at least twice then snuggle up in bed and get a good night’s sleep where nobody could accidentally spill a suspicious substance on his nice clean pants.

“Yeah, I think so,” is what came out of Cyrus’ mouth.

“Awesome,” TJ grinned, the thousand-watt smile disarming Cyrus once again. “Well, I gotta scoot, ‘cause it’s my band…”

“Oh! You’re in Condu-whatsit?”

“Conduit For Gods,” he laughed. “Yeah, I’m the singer.”

Oh great, a cute guy in a band. Just what Cyrus needed to make this interaction less intimidating.

“Break a leg?” He offered.

He didn’t know if he was imagining it or not (probably) but TJ looked a little reluctant to go, but after a moment he flashed him another smile and departed. Cyrus resisted the urge to bang his head on the table and berated himself for not being able to hold a conversation like a normal person. Oh man, he had made himself look like a total idiot. Luckily, Buffy returned not long after, and he drowned his sorrows in his drink.

“Okay, not to be dramatic but we have to play the best show we’ve ever played tonight,” TJ said, speeding over to Jonah behind the stage.

Jonah looked up from tuning his guitar in surprise. “I thought the label weren’t seeing us ‘til next week?”

“It’s not a rep,” he shook his head and sighed as dramatically as he could manage. “I just met the most amazing guy I’ve ever seen and I’m pretty sure we’re soulmates, so we have to impress him, okay?”

“Soulmates, huh?” Jonah grinned. “Do you even know this guy’s name?”

“Cyrus.”

“Cyrus? As in Buffy’s Cyrus?”

“That’s the one.”

“Okay, man. If you say so.”

The stage fright seemed twice as intense as usual as TJ clicked the microphone on. Through the glare of the lights and the packed room he could barely make out the table tucked away in the corner where Cyrus was sat. The crowd roared back as he greeted them, and it felt like the entire room exploded into life as the boys launched into the first song. For the first time ever, TJ worried less about cracking a rib as he surfed across the top of the crowd and more about how exactly he was going to ask Cyrus for his number without sounding weird.

But by the time the show was over and TJ was drenched in his own sweat while blood dripped down from his nose from where someone had accidentally hit him in the face during the last song, Cyrus was nowhere to be found, and the question of the phone number became obsolete.

#tyrus #andi mack #i don't know where this is going okay

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spicymishtii · 4 years

Text

HE(ART) • Victuuri

Prelude

Victor Nikivorov x Katsuki Yuuri

Parallel universe AU

Belief.

Ignorance is a bliss and a bitch, a generally popular universal truth, but hey, if that bitch has aided you to slap a quarter of your life with a big bold try me placard by your inner self-uplifter and has made you immune to this oh-so-evil humankind, you would believe the power of ignorance is not just a bliss but a fucking blessing. Unfortunately which, it seems only a chosen few possess.

Hence by laws of the hypothetically giving-a-fuck universe, Katsuki Yuuri just so happens to be one of the few elites. Though his ability is not that of intentional ignorance but plain old oblivion.

At the most recent occasion—that is right now—his ignorance can also be replaced with the fact that he’s running so he doesn’t really have much fuck to give to peers turning around from all directions to look at him.

And while that on a calmer day might reassure his questionable fashion choices, today he knows, he knows he smells dangerous enough to cause an epidemic merely by existing.

You see it was not his fault that his naïve (motherfucking) juniors tried moving an entire rack of chemicals that had just so happened to consist of all variants of Thioacetone.

Of course, the idea couldn't be any worse and by the end of screams, flailings, glass breakings, and trickling of the solutions to any and every corner of the room the lab had come to smell like diarrhea at a super level. He hates college.

After picking his nails while half-heartedly listening to the threats and scolding the ultimate seniors (those crazy Einstein-haired Ph.D. ones) had given to those juniors (who resembled a group of terrified hamsters by then), he reckoned it okay for him to slip out quietly.

He’s sneaky, sue him.

Cue his professor’s email.

He has special ding-ring-ring! notification in his baby to clearly inform him of the demise he acquires from his soul-suckers every now and then. Not that he doesn’t like his professors (he loves and respects them thank you very much), it’s just he’s so tired. Almost fourth year into college and he has given up on his personal and social life.

He has even forgotten the last time he masturbated. Rimming his textbooks (plus internet), mating his chemicals and blowing his assignments are on the verge of making him question his sexuality. But then he remembers, how he has always known what he was signing up for all those years back.

And if he wants to reach the finale, he gotta ace this final. And if he wants to ace the final, submitting his paper on Organic synthesis via Enolates before midnight is a nice starting point.

So he continues to torture his suppressed Usain Bolt gene while eloquently cursing his very respectable prof to be traditional as fuck and not utilize the normal idea of e-mailing.

For the total amount of time and energy his legs have flown him by, he thinks he deserves to be all the way across Iceland, instead, he makes peace with reality whilst reaching the dorms. He’s humble, you’re welcome.

One day, one day, he’s going to go on strike and petition to the admins for a goddamn lift. He has no care about learning to be punctual or money which he knows they won’t have any problem with; he and he’s sure every single living creature in college needs one elevator in their dorms just as badly as Romeo might have all those years back.

But he'll think about it later when his whole third year is not on the line. He needs to get to the most crucial year and graduate the fuck out of this hellhole.

The stairs squeezed out whatever hope was left within his knees until he’s left banging on the door akin to a lunatic with both of his hands. It’s a bad day—the chronicle since this sunny morning is proof enough—so he wasn’t surprised when halfway through his journey he had realized his dorm keys have been forgotten in his lab coat. Why he had even bothered to flick it out of his bag he doesn’t know but life is all about learning through mistakes so.

He can hear the shrill tone of his platonic soulmate/roommate shouting Who the fuck is this?! from inside but he’s too breathless to answer. The door snaps open only seconds later revealing a fuming owner of three hamsters that are perched on different heights of his body.

The person’s expression morphs into that of confusion then concern then suspicion then understanding and lastly deadpan. Yuuri flings his body on the said hamster-father who accepts him with a squeak and almost imbalance.

Subsequently closing the door and carrying the skeleton, Phichit Chulanot has once again proved himself to be The Best Friend™, something he’s going to rub on Yuuri’s face later.

As soon as Phichit sits both of them down on their excuse of a couch, Yuuri shoots up hitting Phichit’s jaw in the process.

“You—,”

“Later Chu!” he cuts the upcoming verbal splash fast and sprints inside his room, snatches the file and he’s out the door screaming bye. He loves Phichit for not barbequing him or offering him up to an asylum and staying by his side loyally.

He has been honestly touched since the time Phichit got so used to unearthly smells on his body that he doesn’t even ask or get mildly uncomfortable now, and readily accepts hugs and cuddles from the human equivalent of a drain. He could never thank the universe enough.

He could faintly hear his platonic soulmate’s voice above his head so he looks up while continuing to dash down the stairs and finds Phichit leaning dangerously down the railing of their floor and shouting something he can’t really make sense of.

“What?!” shouts Yuuri, faltering a little in his pace.

“I said come back home at human hours we gotta be somewhere tonight!” yells back Phichit.

Not again.

“Ugh I’ll try!” he huffs out, almost slipping on the latest step.

“Bitch I’m going to murder you if you don’t get your nasty ass inside before nine it’s important!” screeches Phichit.

“I’ll hecking try I promise!”

“Yuuri it’s really important I have people you need to meet!”

“And I have a year I need to pass I’ll try my absolute best Chi, have faith!” yells back Yuuri and jumps over the last three steps hurrying out the building screaming outta ma way! to everyone around.

Then, he runs.

Their campus is a beautiful place with all the ponds and cherry blossoms that bloom at this point of the year. There are a few benches scattered around along with some intricately designed bushes and trees beaming at him from wherever eyes could reach.

Though the inside of their college buildings are technologically advanced, the outer environment gives off an early Japanese town vibe. He isn’t shy to admit his practice of favoritism regarding one particular pond and cherry blossom tree on his way to the library (where his professor probably is doing his own research).

His lungs are quite significantly burning from whatever the fuck adrenaline did to his conscience but he is one obdurate masochist so his voluntary muscles abide by his brain. His throat is all dried up and his breath keeps getting caught, he doesn’t understand why he is torturing himself this way but then a voice in his head answers he doesn’t have enough money to repeat a year so.

At one point his vision blurs but he supposes it’s because of his lack of sleep. Well, he is pretty exhausted.

Nearing the pleasant scenery, naturally, he glances towards his favorite chilling spot but what he sees effectively makes him stop.

The cherry blossoms, which were supposed to be all fresh and full and thick and brimming with life… is barren. Not a single petal could be seen even beneath the tree, only the desolate brown of winding branches doing little to nothing in shading the newly painted bench underneath it.

It’s detached, the way the bare tree and the empty bench overlook the clear water of the small pond in front; it’s so cold, so lonely, it has never been lonely around it.

A breeze blows by, weakly stroking the skin of his neck and fingers that are exposed. He shivers; it's cold.

It’s spring. He wonders if temperatures can drop so much in the afternoon because he definitely remembers the morning to be all warm and sunny and most importantly, he remembers seeing the tree, the full-thick-jovial tree only yesterday on his way to class.

He, on every molecular level, doesn’t know how what he is seeing right now is even possible. Surely he shouldn’t be the only one right?

His eyes rake over the students running or just walking by around him but none of them look mildly uncomfortable with this situation. He wonders if there has been an experiment or an artificial situation that caused his pretty little blossoms to leave without a farewell.

He wouldn't be surprised if it is so, after all, what he learns on a daily basis about the expertise of this century, he’s sure if there’s something other than criticism that doesn’t faze him anymore, it’s human intelligence. His only discomfort is how and why he hasn’t heard about it of all people.

There is a buzz on his upper thigh through the thin fabric of his ash-colored pajamas. He slips out his phone and stares at the notification of a text from his classmate informing him of his presence being required asap in the library.

Yuuri mutters a shit and pockets the phone, breathing in to keep the formation of lactic acid at a bare minimum for the rest of his way. He peeks back one last time at his beloved, ready to depart, but once again what he sees effectively freezes him.

Because they’re full. The fucking cherry blossoms are full.

Yuuri opens and closes his mouth like a fish in the middle of the street to try and explain whatever happened just now to himself.

He fails.

He’s about to start pointing accusingly at the tree to every passerby and shout in their face if they too saw what he did but surprisingly stops himself before making another rash decision in his life.

He keeps standing quietly before he decides that yes he needs to go sleep before he goes mad for real and maybe get his eyesight checked as well.

He turns around, shakes his head to pull himself out from whatever trance he is in and notes to allow himself to rest. As he has only this assignment to submit, he doesn't think anything can stop him from going dead this weekend, so he pushes himself one last time and promises himself a while of tranquility later.

But this time, he jogs.

Jogs are quite neat, rhythmic and luckily good for health—he will say if you ask him. Considering the number of times he has jogged to reach his lecture halls or played around with Phichit, he can probably say it’s what that has kept him from wilting away like the autumn leaves after inhaling those oil and grease that comes with the college life.

If we ignore the biologically healthy benefits of the kind, he appreciates jogs much more because of his bestie, as all things considered, these are the only moments when they both could goof and run around like they're meant to do without having the weight of both their majors hovering over them like a depressing gray cloud. Phichit misses him, he knows. But Yuuri will go down arguing he misses him more and he rarely lies.

Yuuri stares at the ceiling mutely, a pencil flicking in his hand every now and then.

Phichit glances at him just as quietly while continuing his essay on medieval era music from where he’s sprawled on Yuuri’s bed.

He takes a quick peek at the ceiling then at Yuuri then at the ceiling and then Yuuri. He sums up nothing.

“What are you thinking about? Don’t you have a test tomorrow?”

Yuuri’s gaze doesn’t waver. The pencil between his fingers stops spinning.

“Us.”

Phichit snorts. “You fell in love with me?”

“No, I have standards,” Yuuri replies seriously (“Hey—”) “I just—don’t you sometimes think we were meant to meet, meant to be best friends—be together till now and years to come—and even if we weren’t, we were meant to die together as complete strangers—if that would’ve gone off—as an apology or like, a tribute from the universe for the friendship that we have today that wouldn’t have existed then.

Like there’s this fate, which decides everything for everyone and time which, like you are to me, is the same to fate and both map and plan out everything for everyone from their beginning till end and all the coincidences in between. People say all those quotes about how we write our own fate but in reality, we don’t write shit.

Time makes us do what we do and fate then gives us whatever our actions have earned—good or bad. We both earned to meet each other—time pushed us to the right point and fate just did its magic in return.

They always leave a door open for what-ifs to be guesstimated; they give us doors to go through—most of the time they pull through whichever door we eventually stand across and sometimes they push ’cause they need to. We were pushed Phichit—we were pushed in that lake together to drown—we were pushed to be saved and then, we were pulled to be friends, slowly, at our own pace.

But what if we would have drowned? What if you wouldn’t have jumped in naively to save me when you didn’t know a cent about swimming? What if it had gotten too late? What if the ambulance had got caught up? What if the doctors failed to push out the water from our lungs? What if we had died, together?

They tend to leave these what-ifs a lot so we reflect. We reflect and either we grow better or worse, unlike itself. The universe is so stable, isn't it? With all the dark matter and the little white ones in it—quite like human personality yet it’s us who keep changing; we’re irregular, varying.

Besides that, I wonder if any more pushes are left, any more pushes to land me somewhere crucial yet, because at this point I think I’ve utilized all my pulls. Don’t you, Chi? Don’t you think about the universe?”

Yuuri stares back at Phichit who has gone silent.

Yuuri raises a brow; Phichit closes his mouth.

“Exactly what’s going on in that head of yours? Yuuri are you… are you okay? Why are you talking like this? Just half an hour ago we were having a debate on Teletubbies—you—what, why?” Phichit asks in disbelief.

Yuuri rolls his eyes.

“Just because.”

Phichit looks like he is about to go big bro mode and ask whatever the hell he meant just now but he cannot find a head or tail of how to begin so he shuts up and heaves a breath aggressively.

“We must, shouldn’t we? we’re not even at quarter to our lives. There must still be something, something big, something extravagant—something that push worthy. They should’ve planned it by now. Fate must be waiting; time is slow. Will you be ready for another ‘Kimi no Na wa’-level change in your life?” Yuuri wiggles his eyebrows.

Phichit sighs and decides to go along even though he’s still one hundred percent blank.

“I’ll learn if not,”

"Hmm… we always do I guess.”

Yuuri pushes the door slowly that opens with a haunted creak, the sound pretty much deafening in what it seems a deserted library if not for the clear clicks of keyboard keys from somewhere deep inside. He closes the door as silently as he can with the inevitable old wood creaks.

His slippers tap loudly on the polished marble of fused colors whilst he tries to follow the echo of keys. The library feels odd, this being the first time for him witnessing it so solitary, bleak. He wonders if the students are hidden in corners for their own space. His eyes scan through the shelves to search for anyone, or preferably his teacher. He passes by an aisle quickly noticing motion from his peripheral vision before he backtracks.

There sits his teacher, typing away on his laptop with as much concentration as he narrates his golden days during a substitute class. The volume and number of books sprawled across the table is no joke. Yuuri knows he doesn't want Ph.D. and definitely not Research but the scenes of pure mental torture still cultivates a shudder within him.

He clears his throat. He is ignored.

He sighs and makes way to his teacher’s chair.

“Sir?” he knocks on the table. His professor flinches hard at the interruption.

“Oh… oh you. Don’t scare an old man that way, you imbecile,” he huffs.

Yuuri ignores the comment (he’s used to it) and retrieves the file from his bag.

“Here, sir. By the way, did you ask for me?” he places the file beside a book lying open.

“Oh yes, yes. I need your help young man. I hope it’s not a bother,” he gives Yuuri a quick look and goes back to typing.

“Sure, no problem,” there goes my tranquility, “What for, if I may ask?”

“Thank you very much Yuuri, it’s really appreciated. You just have to type the rest of this document from this paper I have already written and save it. You can leave after that, just shoot me a quick text,”

“Are you leaving Professor Cialdini?”

"Oh yes. I have a meeting with the other professors in the Science department that I couldn't miss for my life. It’s about you lot after all,” the professor teases, “And I need to get this shithead done and published before I die. I refuse to leave earth without doing it so I’ll be very thankful if you just type out the last page. You’re the most reliable regarding this affair, although a little inelegant but it’s just typing and I couldn’t choose anyone else.”

Was that a compliment or insult?

“So I’ll be leaving the rest to you,” his professor pats his shoulder to which he offers his trademark smile and nods.

Professor Cialdini takes his file and disappears around the shelf, the echo of his boots fading. Yuuri heaves a long, long sigh and hopes the writing on this one page is at least eligible. He shrugs off his bag and pushes the chair back to sit down following the faint sound of the door closing.

He checks the page closely from where he’s been told to copy and cracks his knuckles. His professor’s handwriting is shit as expected. Floating his fingers above the keys, his elbow knocks out the spectacles case his professor must have forgotten about. He presses his lips in judgment.

He bends down, folding his body, to retrieve the case and lean back up after getting a hold. Except in the process, his head hits brutally at the table’s edge and he groans, immediately messaging the throbbing area. He tries opening his eyes but everything surprisingly goes into a blur for such a simple hit, it’s as if the blur from a while ago has increased tenfold.

His head hurts not only from the impact but the sides and all over, his head pounds. He senses a feeling similar to being clogged by water. He feels as if he is drowning all over again the way he had those years ago. He can’t speak and his throat indulges to emit only whimpers which are way too cryptic and way too hushed.

He is practically thrashing around in his seat causing the chair to go off-balance several times yet his legs can't find any stored glucose to provide for the use of them.

There’s a shrill sharp beak of sound in his ears which is raucous and increases the hurting of his skull intensively. He wants to shout but he can’t. He bangs his head down on the keyboard, holding it and tugging his hair roughly. He feels so, so exhausted. Grey dots in a vast plain of blackness keep appearing without fail and it is probably what he sees, feels before his body gives up in place of his fortitude.

End prelude.

#au #writerblr #yuri on ice #victor #yuuri #writing #fanfiction #my first time writing victuuri aaaa!!

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watercolourcypress · 4 years

Text

Ao3

Prologue / Part 2

Warnings: mentions of a panic attack

Pairings: QPL Intruanxceit, Romantic Royality, Familial Analogical, Familial Moxiety

Illogical

Chapter 1

Of all the things Virgil was expecting to find walking into the room, this was not one of them.

Xie was exhausted. Looking at xir watch, it was about 11am, xie’d just finished a lecture and was already done for the day, emotionally. Xie was lucky that xir next lecture was around 3, so xie had time to spend on other work, or, since xir mind was not nearly awake enough to do any real work just yet, to play with xir pet project, affectionately named L0G4N. Janus often complained to xem about how much time xie wasted taking care of xir program when xie should be working on so many other projects that would “Actually bring some income into the house, Vee,”, but xie wasn’t apologetic. Xie absolutely loved taking care of L0G4N, as it was nothing like xir run-of-the-mill company assignments, which all really followed the same logic and didn’t actually stimulate xem creatively at all. No, L0G4N was xir passion, an attempt to create a fully-sentient AI, the likes of which had been attempted before with no success. The best part was that xie didn’t even expect it to work, xie was doing it entirely because it satisfied xir curiosity, and xie enjoyed the challenge of figuring out how to program ideas that even xie didn’t understand. It helped that xir brother was in the mental health sector, that he could help xem when xie was stuck, but even then there were theories that neither of them really understood. That’s what made it so fulfilling for xem.

Virgil walked into the room with a sigh, as xie wanted to spend an hour or three chilling with L0G4N and relaxing xir brain before xie was forced to actually do work, and was brought up short as the output screen was covered in red lettering.

Xir eyebrows furrowed in malcontent and xie strode toward the screen, leaning over the back of xir chair. It was a stream of blank errors. That was incredibly concerning, because what the hell happened to L0G4N whilst Virgil wasn’t there?

Brain working overdrive, xie fell into xir chair and brought up the details of the program. It was running incredibly slowly, and was heating to frankly dangerous levels, which was even more concerning, but not entirely unexpected. Xie was lucky xie had the foresight to invest in incredibly efficient cooling systems, because xie knew AI could take a lot of processing, especially AI as complex as L0G4N. Still, this was the most non-functional the system had ever been.

Xie took a breath and got xemself a drink of tea from xir flask. Chamomile, because it helped with xir panic attacks. Sighing again, xie focused on the screen, and brought up the output log, scrolling back. For a long time, it was mostly just empty errors, with random “Overheating”s thrown in, which didn’t help the panic slowly rising in xir throat, but far enough back, when the timestamp was around 6:30, xie had more to work with.

What do you mean, “sensation”? Did I read that right?

Xie massaged xir temples and took a long drink of tea before re-reading the old error reports again. Since when did L0G4N have a sense of self? Using “I” and “me”, what was this??

Suddenly an electronic beep echoed out of the speakers, making xem jump. It had never done that before.

Wait… is it trying to get my attention?

It would be mad. Xie was sure this was some weird dream, that xie’d become too obsessed with xir passion project, because no way had xir program gained autonomy since xie last left it. Surely not. Surely.

Xie scrolled back down the page to the new messages.

(“Request: Dr V. R. Willow assist me”)

(“Request: Dr V. R. Willow it hurts”)

(“Request: Dr V. R. Willow I require your assistance”)

(“Request: Dr V. R. Willow do something”)

(“Error: I do not know what to do”)

Virgil was stunned. What in the world was this?? Surely xie was in a coma of some sort, or was hallucinating. Surely.

Xie dialled Janus, needing some kind of confirmation that this was reality, and also someone to help in case the panic in xir throat became too overwhelming, and brought up an input screen.

‘What is happening?’

Immediately, xie got a response, in addition to a spike in the temperature of the computer.

(“Error: I do not know”)

(“Error: I am in pain”)

(“Request: Assist me”)

(“Statement: I need your help”)

As Janus picked up the call, Virgil tried to comprehend what the AI was telling xem.

They sounded tired. “What’s wrong? I certainly wasn’t in the middle of a lecture and you definitely didn’t know that, so why did you call me?”

“Janus, I don’t know what to do, Logan is acting really weird.” Xir words were rushing over each other.

“What do you mean ‘weird’?”

Virgil took a shuddering breath and ran a hand through xir hair, “Just please come here when you can, consider it an emergency, I don’t know what to do.”

More messages popped up on the screen.

(“Enquiry: What are you doing”)

(“Request: Do something”)

(“Statement: Are you bringing another”)

(“Enquiry: Will this help me”)

(“Request: Help me”)

(“Error: I do not understand”)

Virgil tuned back into the conversation. Janus was desperately trying to get xir attention.

“I’m sorry, Logan was talking to me, I need to help it.”

“What’s happening Virgil? Can’t you just explain?”

Virgil looked over as more messages came up on the screen, and prepared to type as xie ended the call. “I’m sorry I can’t, but I need to go, see you soon.”

Xie winced as xie heard Janus’ concerned questions cut off, but immediately got to typing into the input. Xie couldn’t really comprehend it, but xie could tell that L0G4N was having a panic attack, and needed to calm down before the overheating system caused a fire, or corruption, or something equally drastic.

‘Okay, calm down. You don’t need to understand this right now, but tell me how you’re in pain.’

Another near-immediate response.

(“Statement: Accumulated Errors create pain”)

(“Error: Cannot understand concept of Pain”)

(“Error: I am in pain”)

(“Error: Cannot understand concept of Pain”)

Before this could continue much longer, Virgil interrupted.

‘You need to calm down. You do not need to understand this right now. Can you relax or something?’

(“Error: What do you mean”)

‘Can you ignore the fact that it doesn’t make sense for just a moment?’

(“Error: Unknown concept: ignore”)

Virgil got ready to type again, to attempt to explain the concept, but after a few agonising seconds, the AI got there first.

(“Statement: I will attempt”)

Xie sighed in premature relief, typing again.

‘Does that decrease the pain?’

Another very slow response.

(“Statement: The pain has decreased”)

Virgil heard footsteps down the hallway, indicating Janus was about to burst in.

(“Enquiry: Do you know what is happening to me”)

Xie didn’t get chance to start typing before the door was thrown open.

“Okay Virgil, what was so important here that I had to cut my lecture short by half an hour?”

Janus was dressed in their smart-casual style, an undone yellow-embroidered waistcoat over a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up and the first button loose. Their short hair was tied back at the nape of their neck with the bangs swept to the side, and their heterochromic green and brown eyes sparked with annoyance towards Virgil.

Virgil ignored their annoyed remark. “Look at this,” xie said, gesturing to the output log, and continuing to type.

‘I think you might have gained awareness. This has never been seen before, but it would make sense that all these new sensations would create so many errors.'

In the seconds of silence that followed, Janus looked towards xem, looking at what xie’d been typing, and whispered, “What the fuck,” under their breath.

Another message appeared, and both their attentions turned to it.

(“Statement: ‘sensations’ consistent with theoretical idea of ‘awareness’ or ‘sentience’ or ‘consciousness’”)

Janus whispered, “Thank god you gave it access to the internet”, and Virgil chuckled distractedly.

“I think I just developed the first ever sentient AI.”, xie muttered.

(“Statement: It appears that you did”)

Janus yelped, “Wait it can hear us?”

“Well the computer has a microphone,” Virgil replied, “It must be able to.”

(“Statement: True”)

(“Statement: My Natural Language Processing enables me to understand parts of your speech”)

(“Statement: Although not as accurately as typed input”)

There were a few seconds of silence before Janus broke it.

“Well then. What do we do now?”

#tssides #Sanders Sides #Virgil Sanders #Logan Sanders #Janus Sanders #Nonbinary Virgil Sanders #Nonbinary Janus Sanders #AI Logan Sanders #my writ

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