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diary-of-an-onliner · 4 years ago

Text

lifelines [g.w.]

hi! first fic, pls be nice!

word count: 2300

warnings: none

After Gryffindor turned the tides at the last second, winning the second most important game of the season after a massive setback in the first hour, the celebrations raged harder than ever. Since Hufflepuff had beaten Slytherin to the ground two days ago, the path towards the Cup was clear. Angelina was sitting on the couch, having passed the point of looking pleased long ago, and now seemed almost frazzled by the result. People came up to her periodically, clapping her shoulder or topping off her drink, directing the buzzing energy of the common room straight into her.

Truly, the atmosphere was phenomenal, the stolen food and drinks from the kitchens juicer and a little more spiked than usual. Or maybe it was the sunlight still streaming through the windows as strongly as ever despite the past gloomy week. Whatever it was that made the day so electrically happy for everyone, it showed no signs of stopping.

This type of unrestrained feeling you always imagined started from the back of your head as s little star-like scribble that cast a net over you and spread the intensity throughout. This week it was stronger than it has been in a while.

You felt electric in the stands as you yelled for your team, an invisible line ripping the words from your throat before you even knew you were saying them. You felt elated as your housemates put their hands around you in delight, screaming themselves sore when they announced the winner. And you were feeling the happiness in your hair now, in every single strand from root to end as it swayed along with the bottle in your hand.

This was happy. This was joyful. This was utterly buttery in your chest and electric in the air.

You idly looked around the red and orange common room, which burned with excitement, deciding how to best spend this time before it runs out on Umbridge's watch and she ruins it.

No. No wasting thoughts on her today. She sucked enough life out of you and your housemates this year, she won't be doing it off the clock too.

Your eyes settled on possibly one of the strongest sources of this warmth - George Weasley, sitting on the arm of the couch next to his brother. The window behind him silhouetted him in gold perfectly, like the sun offered him to you. It accented how attractive he was, even if he burned a little at the top.

You've connected eyes before, talked before, even bantered. One wittier than the other every odd day, you toed the line between acquaintances and friends perfectly. Seeing as he's very popular, catching him in-between conversations was a matter of luck.

You imagined a line going from the center of your chest to his as you approached him. He pensively looked to the side, observing some goings-on on the far end of the room as you interrupted him.

"That was a good game. You got some very nice shots in," you said.

He turned to you with a mild close-mouthed 'hm', a look, and then a grin.

"You sure it was me?" he cocked his eyebrow and look at Fred on the couch next to Angelina, bumping knees with her and accepting congratulations in both of their names.

"You wear different numbers, genius. I know how to count this time."

"And you have my number memorized," he said, his voice glad.

"That would've been a great line if you were a Muggle."

"Pity, I already chose a magical career." he took a sip of his butterbeer and eyed you up, "Maybe I should start using my magical lines on you. Would those work better?" his eyes widened and his tone turned innocent at the end.

"I think I know too much anti-jinxes for that."

He pursed his lips in amusement. "Alright. What would work on you then?"

"Oh, I find responsibility and appropriacy really hot." you shot back, twirling a piece of your happy, charged up hair.

"Contradiction too," he said, "since you're still here."

"I find contradiction a natural state of the human soul, thus if I wasn't contradicting myself, I wouldn't fully be here."

"Hm. Brainy." he chuckled.

"Judgy. If you need me to simplify you can just say so."

"I think I can handle your smart mouth just fine."

"Then why am I winning?"

"I didn't realize this was a competition."

"Rookie mistake." you shook your head dramatically.

"I'm pretty sure it's a rookier mistake to assume you're winning. Who's the judge?"

"My innate inner sense of whether I'm winning or not."

"If it's inside you, then how would one file a complaint concerning an unfair ruling?"

"They wouldn't. It's a noble and just system that decided I'm in the lead. You just need to accept the truth."

"Don't make me come in there," he said, smirking good-naturedly.

"In where?" you shot back.

"In you." his smirk held on for a second before he seemed to realize what he said and his face scrunched up in apologetic laughter.

Your mind slipped into the gutter the way new yorkers fall into sinkholes filled with rats - hilariously fast.

Albeit greatly amused, he started to correct himself, "I didn't mean-"

"No, of course not." you licked your lips, "I understood you the first time " Was karma going to bite you in the ass for that lie? Who knows, but you might even be into that. Everything seems possible when the sun is shining. So he shone.

He grinned with his happy mouth and you once again noted how the light from the window behind him silhouetted him in the golden lining that made him look like a cutout glued onto the scene of this funny collage. His hair was aflame and his face was darker from the shadows but just as loudly burning with laughter.

This was happy.

You drew the word in your mind, line by line. H, a smooth move from the bottom, a decorative loop, then a parallel stroke, and a transversal. A, a circle with a tail, sharp move upward, and an even sharper drop for the backbone of p. P's tummy? Bulge? Nope, your mind shouldn't slip there in the middle of Binns’ class, no matter how boring he was. Another p, as George's knee bumped into yours. He was moved from "Mr. Wester, Phillip." for being disruptive, so he engaged in an under-the-table kind of disruption with his new tablemate.

You smiled. A long diagonal line, and another shorter one that cut into it. Y.

Happy.

You were, truly, right now. It sounded upside down to be happy though, both overall and when stuck in a soul-suckingly draining class, but you were.

George read over your shoulder, then audaciously engaged in over-the-table elbow-bumping-disruption and a cocked eyebrow. You straightened up, feeling a warm line unfold from the back of your head to the core of your brain, through the center of your chest, and straight to your stomach. Your happy line.

I'm happy, you mouthed.

Really? He mouthed back sarcastically yet good-naturedly. I can definitely see why. His eyes darted toward the professor. I say go for it, he's a catch. You might even be his type.

You burst out laughing, then immediately bit your lip. A few students, including Philip, looked at you as you shook with laughter, but professor Binns carried on.

George, on the other hand, shrugged with his shit-eating grin, pretending he has no idea why you were laughing, thus letting everyone know why you were laughing.

You scribbled, I don't know. What if it goes badly. I'd hate to be ghosted.

George raised his eyebrows at the Muggle slang you explained before. His hand slipped next to yours on the table and you felt your happy line thrum in approval. His hand was warm as he gently pressed it to yours, slowly took your quill, and scribbled back: Need someone more physical, huh? And I thought you were the romantic type.

Strong words for someone who never bought me dinner, you replied.

Mhm, as soon as I find a good line get you to agree to it.

Keep writing like that and I'll start thinking you fancy me.

Keep your mind in the gutter and I'll start thinking you don't fancy me back. He accented that line with a wink and an overdramatic lip bite.

You pouted sarcastically at him. Of course not, I only want you for your knobby knees.

He chuckled, reminded of the short line of warmth that connected your knees under the table. He pressed his into yours a little stronger, then pulled away.

That's a funny way of flirting. I'd know, I'm an expert at funny.

Self-proclaimed.

Untrue.

And I'm not flirting. If I was, you'd know it.

Would you? your breath hitched. For reasons you very well knew but refused to sound out to yourself, this short sentence drove the air around you two from joking to serious at breakneck speed.

Know if you were flirting with me? your happy line felt jumbled up in your stomach. He smiled at you.

Would you know if you were flirting with me?

The following week was arduous.

Gryffindors had a record amount of detentions, and Snape tore into them any and every chance he could. Even McGonagall was one edge, meaning lousy or missed homework was a death sentence. You forgot how to read from tiredness, submitting essays patchworked of other people's thoughts without ever having any information pass through your head. Everything was dull, gray, and dragged out.

Despite that, outside the castle the sky was blue and sunlight streamed through the soft clouds and a sweet breeze would blow around aimlessly. It was both comforting and a little mocking. The sky should be as exhausted and as beaten down as you. Good to know stress made you compare yourself to a literal sky. But maybe that's a little cruel. Nevertheless, it sounded like nature itself was turning its nose up at you, saying you're selfish for wanting grey skies, she doesn't care, she's above puny human affairs. The world turns and you have to turn with it or stop, then spend the rest of the time catching up.

You haven't stopped yet, but by all that is holy, you wanted to sleep. As the sun finally descended on a Friday after dinner, you finished your essays in hope that the next week might be kinder if you do everything quickly. The common room was dark, most of the light coming from the fire in the fireplace. It was also oddly empty for nine-thirty in the evening. Apparently, everyone had the same week as you.

Your almost finished essay laid on the table as you dozed, swinging your legs back and forth over the edge of your armchair.

The creak of the portrait opening caught your attention, and George Weasley walked in a second later, rubbing his sore hand and cussing.

Truly everyone had a shitty week.

"Love?" you said teasingly.

He looked up at you with a tired grin.

"It's late."

"Not really. You okay?"

"Nothing I can't handle, love." he sighed, leaning against the wall next to the fireplace.

"Can I see?" you crossed the room to stand in front of him. Again, the firelight licked at the lines of his face, clear and sharp. He had circles under his eyes and a heavily nibbled lip.

"It's nothing." still, George raised his hand. "Love." he added, distantly. He seemed to be staring right above your head. You looked at the middle line of his lips again. You imagined him biting it.

Was it him that bit it? That one hurt. You hoped it was him.

You took his hand in your and rubbed circles into his knuckles. His eye winced.

"I'm sorry."

"S'not your fault."

"What happened?" he closed his eyes.

"Two ickle firsties almost brought the wrath of Umbridge into themselves with some dungbombs. You know how it goes," he said, a corner of his lip tugging upwards. Your chest expanded looking at him being satisfied with himself. As he should be.

"How... responsible of you," you said.

His eyes snapped downwards to yours.

"Keep looking at me like that and I might also start being appropriate too, darling."

You stepped closer, your happy line thrumming against your chest like a quivering violin string.

"What if being responsible is enough?"

"Enough for what?" he breathed out before you pressed yourself against him.

At first, that's was it was - a press of two warm lips. Then he started to move slowly, almost gentlemanly. How appropriate.

As he touched you, you felt the daze of last week lift. The little star scribble on the back of your head lit up, pulsing with brightness rather than fogging your thought. This was clear, you felt his every stroke that made up his face and chest and hands. The scribble of happiness extended itself into a web, overtaking your brain - you could feel it and you wondered if he saw it too when he looked at you. You pulled away and lifted your head to check. Probably not, but his eyes were glassy and he gave you a dopey smile. He was glad you were there. You pressed your lips against his again. You were glad he was there too.

The web continued down your neck, arms and chest, into your legs until your toes buzzed with light coursing through you. You were more awake than you have been in a long time.

Your hands were the brightest of all, and as you touched his hands, connecting them fingertip to fingertip, things made sense. The web buzzed and his breath was warm against yours, hands pulsing with energy as your every lifeline connected into his.

#george weasely #fanfic #hp fanfic #george weasley x reader

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alicemitch09writes · 4 years ago

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lame

01.

it was supposed to be us against the world

It was just a normal Tuesday for you, the scorching sun was out, seeping whatever energy you had for today, class had just ended, and you were treading the thought of having to work later that day. But hey, girl’s gotta fend for herself, right?

Just as you arrived at the station, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Lazily taking it out, your (e/c) eyes scanned the text before shooting wide open, you instantly took off, never minding work, thoughts flying to one thing - Izuku.

For such a prestigious school, it sure had a lousy way of being indiscreet if it were located on top of a hill. Winded from the trip, barely feeling your legs, drenched completely in sweat from the trek, a hero awaited for you at the gate, giving you instructions on how to get to your location (he figured to give it straight to you, judging from your harried breathing and frazzled state alone).

Finding the clinic, you all but burst into the room, eyes easily finding curly green locks. "Izuku!"

Green eyes widened at the sight of you, taking the sight of you. "(Nickname)-!? H-How did you-"

"Are you alright?!"

Flinching at the pitch, tone, and of the overall worry painting your features, he all but gave you a sheepish look whilst rubbing the back of his head. That didn't help, but at least seeing him now in the bed was making your worries lessen.

“He’ll be fine, I’ve treated the worst of his injuries.” The small lady- hero, Recovery Girl, tells you from where she sat. “He just woke up and has made a full recovery now!”

Allowing yourself to sigh in relief, you collapsed by his bed, legs pressed against the cool tiled-floor, eyeing the green-haired boy with narrowed eyes.

"Really, Izuku, you better take better care of yourself."

A scarred hand reached out to pat your shoulder, seeping away the tiredness of practically storming all the way here. "I know, (Nickname). I'm sorry for worrying you..."

Once Recovery Girl assured you that she was to see your best friend fit, you allowed yourself to rest a while before making sure that his recovery was done. You would have loved to wait until he got better, so you can leave, but you had to report to work, even for just a bit then head home to change. Giving your best friend an apologetic look, Izuku nodded in understanding and you reluctantly complied to leave. But not without giving him a parting hug.

“Really, you have to stop giving me a heart attack,” you warned him, teasingly, earning a laugh from the green-haired boy. “I’ll be over for dinner later, okay?”

At that, his eyes brightened. “I’ll be sure to tell mom! She’ll surely be happy to have you over.”

“And I look forward to Auntie’s cooking!”

With one last wave at your best friend, a polite-grateful bow to the school nurse, you turned to the door.

Once out, however, you were face to face with the last person you wanted to see. You ignored him, bent on getting out of here. There was nothing to be said. Absolutely nothing. And it was better off that way.

“Ta-dah!”

“Uwah!!!” big green eyes – matching the shade of his wild curly locks, widened.

“What is it, what is it?” a small blond boy ran towards them excitedly, especially at the excitement at the tone of his two precious friends. “So, what is it?” he asked, head tilted in question at the object in hand.

Grinning toothily, the young girl placed it atop curly locks, flowers intertwined with each other, the green camouflaging with the boy’s locks, as though the flowers sprouted from his hair. “It’s a flower crown, silly!”

“Che, and I was excited for nothing,” the blond boy’s cheeks puffed. Carmine eyes glared at the object on his friend’s hair. “So girly…”

Miffed, the (h/c) girl’s tiny fists balled, stomping her foot. “W-Well duh, because I am a girl!”

“Yeah right!” teased the blond, scratching the underside of his nose, angering the girl as she began to growl.

“Hey, no fighting now…” the small green-haired boy called out to his friends. “…please?”

The two looked at him, then at each other before parting away, the girl’s arms crossed.

“W-Well, if Izuku says so! I’ll forgive you this time, Katsuki!”

Carmine eyes narrowed; cheeks puffed as they reddened to slowly match his eyes. “W-Whatever!”

At that, Izuku smiled, getting to his feet to grab the hands of his best friends. Smiles appearing on his other friend’s faces.

“Ah, by the way!” the (h/c) girl suddenly cried out, alarming the two boys. Heading towards the pile of flowers she was fiddling with earlier, she took something from the ground, keeping her hands behind her as she walked up to the blond boy. “N-Ne, Katsuki, g-give me your hand…”

“…what? No way!”

“Come on, just give me your hand!”

“No way, you might give me a bug!”

“No, I won’t!”

“Then you might just prank me!”

“Didn’t I say that I wouldn’t?”

“How would I know if you’re telling the truth!”

“If you just give me your hand!”

Stuck in between another argument, the green-haired boy could only laugh at their antics.

“K-Katsuki, please?”

She widened her eyes on purpose, pouting purposely to jut out her lower lip, it was all it took for the young blond to cave in. Also, she did say ‘please’.

Reluctantly, stretched out his hand watching as she happily reached for it, her hand now in his. His cheeks reddened, not that he’d say it out loud and chose to frown. “Alright, now close your eyes!” Not wanting to argue, he did as was asked, without putting up a fight. At first, he heard Izuku gasp and she quickly shushed him, almost excitedly, before he felt something slip into his ring finger. “Okay, now open!”

The first thing he saw were (eye color) orbs so big and bright – filled with excitement and joy before his eyes fell unto the object in his hand. The flowers were just as wild and vibrant as Izuku’s, except his was more but fit to wrap around his stubby fingers.

“Wow, (Nickname), it’s so pretty! You’re amazing!”

Chubby cheeks flushed at that, turning to him expectantly. “D-Do you like it?” came her quiet voice.

Silence.

Green and (hair color) heads turned to each other, sharing a look. The taller girl was about to ask again but stopped head tilting. Beside her, the green-haired boy’s mouth formed into an ‘o’, hands slapping against his freckled cheeks.

“K-Katsuki, are you turning-“

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” screamed the boy, messing his hair with his free hand before turning to the girl, a look of determination in his eyes as he pointed, using the hand with the ring flower. “W-W-When we get older, I-I’ll get you the biggest, shiniest, prettiest wedding ring, you hear me!?”

“Kacchan…”

“And Deku!” he turned to the green-haired boy, no longer irked by the flower crown. “You’re going to be my best man, got it?”

Realizing his outburst, the two friends burst into laughter, the blond’s face heating even more.

“Stop laughing at me! Deku! (Name)!”

“Auntie, you didn’t have to prepare so much!” you call out to Auntie Inko, eyes wide like saucers when you saw the meal served at the table.

Meal wasn’t even the word to put it, it was more like a feast! The Midoriya matriarch had prepared spaghetti, karaage, tempura shrimp, grilled eel, salad, and some side dishes. Basically, it was a lot of protein and carbs.

“Nonsense, (Name)-chan! It’s been a while since I last saw you,” she says kindly as you take a seat. “also, this is to celebrate Izuku’s good performance at school, so he can now rest easy for summer break.”

“Thank you so much, mom!” Izuku flusters, especially when she says it so easily in front of their guest as if you’re not used to it.

“Oh, Izuku, still that flustered momma’s boy, huh?”

“(N-Nickame)!”

Laughing, the three of you begin to dig in, exchanging stories about school, your part-time job, some funny customer Auntie Inko had to deal with earlier at the office (she was a government employee), your grandfather, and his dojo. It was always so comforting having dinners with the Midoriyas, always so warm.

Volunteering to help with the dishes, the two youngsters continued to catch up, talking about just about anything. It was always easy to talk with Izuku, always refreshing to be in his presence and hear his thoughts about things.

“Eh? So, you’re classmates with the son of Endeavour?”

“Yes! And his quirk is amazing! He’s half-cold and half-hot.”

“How does that even work?”

“Well, he’s in a constant state of homeostasis to balance out both quirks.”

“Must be hard to manage 24/7 then.”

“That’s true. But with enough practice, he may be able to stabilize both quirks to be able to do more, especially because it can be a double-whammy to villains who might not expect from someone capable of managing two quirks at the same time, there’s also the fact that he can be able to maneuver better should he master his other side…”

The kitchen slowly filled with his ramblings as the last of the dishes were taken care of, which you didn’t seem to mind. It always fun to hear him ramble, knowing that there was a big brain beneath his curly green locks. He was like a walking encyclopedia.

When the clock struck 9, you had announced that you were off, lest you worry your dear grandfather. Izuku volunteered to walk you home.

“Ah, please wait a minute, (Name)-chan!” Aunt Inko shouted when the two of you were at the front entrance, rushing towards you both with a few Tupperware in hand – leftovers from dinner.

“Oh my! Auntie Inko, thank you so much!”

She smiled at you, reaching up to caress your cheek. “Please drop by for dinner more often, (Name)-chan, okay?”

The hand was soft and warm against your cheek, calming your heart with love washing over you. Nodding, silently promising the older woman, you turned to Izuku, who opened the door for you.

“Good night, Auntie Inko!”

Once the two of you reached the neighborhood, you couldn’t help but stare off at the playground – still the same as before, but the paint’s probably new. You could almost picture out three kids running around, chasing each other merrily.

“Man, your mom really didn’t have to put up a feast.”

Laughing, Izuku scratched his cheek as he replied. “Well, she does like to go out whenever she can. Plus, it’s not always (Nickname) comes over for dinner. Also, I’ve been increasing my diet lately because of my quirk.”

Ah, his newly acquired quirk. “Come to think of it, you have been getting bulkier since the last I saw you.”

“Well, I have to compensate mass for all the power I’ve acquired.”

The matter of his quirk piqued your interest, especially because of how much it’s taking a toll on your friend. Instead of backing down, he readily worked his way to accommodate such power.

“True,” you nod, turning to him, realizing he’s grown several inches taller as well, you couldn’t help but giggle. “that and because you’re probably finally hitting puberty.”

“E-Eh!?”

“Dude, you used to be my height!” you tell him, gesturing with your hand your height. “Now, you’re…well, not really that huge, but the growth rate is a bit alarming, to say the least.”

Suddenly, he was sweating bullets, looking between relief and mild panic. “A-Ah…puberty…yes, m-must be th-that a-an-and i-i-it’s side-effects on t-th-the quirk- my quirk!” And there’s his stuttering. Still adorable.

Nudging him with your shoulder, you were quick to assure him. “There, there,” deciding to just sling your arm around his, you leaned on him comfortingly “you’ll always be cry baby Izuku to me!”

“(Nickname)!”

“Or was it wimpy Izuku?”

“(Nickname), please…”

Despite the name-calling, they were all in good fun. A comfortable silence filled in, nothing needed to be said as you two walked around the quiet streets of Musutafu.

For the first time since you were kids, you were apart because you went to different high schools, it hurt because you two were always together and you were each other’s shoulder to lean on. Technology had a great way of bridging you two together, keeping each other up to date on the other’s lives. But nothing beat direct communication with the ones you loved and you relished nothing more than these small moments with your best friend.

“By the way, (Nickname),” Izuku’s voice suddenly cut through the silence. “how is your grandfather? Couldn’t he have dropped by for dinner as well?”

At the mention of your grandfather, you couldn’t help your expression from souring. “Eh, let him be, he’s probably off watching reruns of those tournament matches to prepare. He wants to rough up the team to tough shape.” Despite his age, your grandfather had quite the build and was the martial arts coach at your high school (don’t ask which martial arts specifically, he knows them all).

“That’s true, he might want to challenge me at the front entrance door before dinner started.”

“And your mom would cry a planet at the devastation left between you two.”

It would be quiet the image, knowing how strong both your grandfather and Izuku was, and then Auntie Inko would be comically crying about in the background.

“Oh, and I’ll just watch because no way am I coming between you monsters, while comforting Auntie Inko.”

As the image progressed, the two of you giggled amongst yourselves, the two of you were nearing a lamppost, resting comfortably against his arm, when a presence before you made the two of you stop.

A blond teen came into view, halting at the sight of both of you. Dressed lazily in his home clothes, with a plastic bag filled with items he got from the convenience store.

Instantly, the laughter died out from you, lips set into a thin line.

“K-Kacchan…” stuttered the teen beside you, gulping at the tense air. “…g-good evening.”

Said teen could only blink, carmine eyes taking in the sight of both of you. Something glinted soon after.

Eyes narrowing, you gently tugged at Izuku’s sleeve, continuing your journey, dismissing the blond completely. The two of you walked past the blond, who slowly began to move when you did, starting a new conversation about Izuku’s homeroom teacher, anything to block off that one person who was forever dead to you.

(Blocks away, the blond stopped in his path, hands still balled into fists, glare fixed to the ground, while a gentle laugh coming from a gentle smile relayed in his head. They weren’t for him.

“Fuck.”)

Midoriya Izuku and Bakugo Katsuki were both your childhood friends.

They were both the first friends you made ever since moving into their town.

To be fair though, Bakugo was your first friend. He then introduced you to the green-haired boy a few days later.

Since then, the three of you grew close, were inseparable, and always played together. There was never a day when the three of you were not with the other, always ensuring to include the other whenever there was a new game to play, a new kid to befriend, or an adventure to go off to.

Bakugo had always been the leader of the three since he had such a strong personality and presence even at the age of 5. He was quick to protect the two of you and command whatever new stuff you were to do.

Izuku was his opposite, submissive, soft, and shy. Nonetheless, he had a very strong sense of justice, even when he seemed to cry a lot, and was recklessly impulsive.

And then there was you, the new girl – quiet, unassuming, tomboy. Sometimes, you liked to pretend to be the mom of the two boys, the big sister, the glue that kept you three together – but you and Katsuki knew that it was Izuku, really.

Regardless, you could always count on the two. Bakugo, especially.

He was the front liner to push you to do things you want to do, uncaring of the fact that you were a girl, because it was a minor detail to all the amazing things you could do – like catch a bug, run like the wind, play under the rain, climb trees, give bullies a beating when they were picking on Izuku, play video games, to name a few. (In addition, you were into martial arts, because it was in the family)

It was because you were so close to Bakugo that you picked up on cursing, much to the shock of dear Izuku’s innocent baby ears. You couldn’t help being a tomboy because of the fact that your best friends were guys and games the blond would instigate, you loved to challenge him in just about anything – especially at claiming to be Izuku’s bestest friend.

Still, whenever you fell or scraped your knee, it was Bakugo who’d lend a hand, angrily berate you on being reckless, before picking you from the ground or giving you a piggyback – Izuku would cry all the way, worried about your state and the possible scolding from your parents and grandfather.

You three were supposed to stick together, stay inseparable, always with each other.

That is until Bakugo discovered his quirk, followed by Izuku discovering that he was quirkless.

And ever since then, everything changed.

masterlist • two

#lame #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki angst #bakugou katsuki fic #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years ago

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COMMISSION: Joker/Akira/Ren x Reader Part 2

Part 1

This is gonna be many more parts... I can already tell

Word Count: 2.2k

SFW, SLOW BURN romance friends to lovers, gender neutral reader, anyone can enjoy it and place themselves as the reader!

- Admin Myah

You spent your entire free period up on that roof, hoping by some miracle that you weren’t crazy, that the group of second-year students that had seemingly vanished before your eyes were in fact pranking you, and upon seeing that you weren’t amused, would get tired of hiding and pop out, finishing the surprise. No such luck, however, and so you left, the second-period bell forcing your hand. Spending the first period of your day - a bit of free time meant for studying, finishing homework, or otherwise enriching yourself educationally - up on the roof and unaccounted for by any teachers was a bit risky already, and you were a decent enough student. There was no way you could just sit there all day, skipping the rest of your classes. Sighing, you resolved to just give up the hunt for your destined main character and by extension the group of potential new friends.

＊

Often after school, you headed to the library, which stayed open along with a select few other areas of Shujin for student use after the last bell rang. Today, however, you felt drawn back to that place, back to that rooftop where you’d seen Akira, Ryuji, and Ann disappear hours earlier. It just wasn’t sitting right with you; you felt a stirring in your soul, like a tiny voice in your head, a shimmering blue butterfly in your stomach. Lucky for you, the rooftop was also open, though you’d never really spent time there. Certain students, including another third-year you admired raised plants up there where the sun could reach them, while others simply came up there for the view or the breeze, some private space to study.

Today, the breeze was indeed blowing, and you sat there writing as it whistled past your ears, polishing up some plot points, scrawling down ideas for your protagonist straight from the imagination, since it seemed you wouldn’t be finding any real-life inspiration anytime soon. It was frustrating, writer’s block, and for the past month or so, it’s all you could do to write a single paragraph. You always found yourself lost in the pages of the novels you loved, and you could identify great writing, appreciate the artistry of another writer, but it was sometimes so hard to put your own thoughts down on the pages of your journal. Why was it so hard? You knew what real romance was. You knew which themes and cliches were overdone and unrealistic. You had a mature and healthy outlook on real relationships and could pick apart the stereotypical female protagonist who was strong and independent until she met the man who would break down her walls or the toxic bad boy who women loved on paper but would cry their eyes out over in real life. You’d read thousands of books and fan-fiction, listened to hundreds of audiobooks, watched tons of romance movies, so why, lately, was it not clicking?! Where was the disconnect between having thoughts and transcribing said thoughts down into your very own masterpiece? Fantasy came so easily to you, sci-fi, non-fiction essays for class, mysteries, research papers, but romance, the genre you loved the most, seemed to purposely elude you.

You were shaken out of your frazzled state when something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. Shaking your head a bit to try and focus your vision, you looked over your shoulder to see that the black spot on the fringe of your blind spot was in fact actually there. You rubbed your eyes just to be sure, but there it was, a wavering black inky spot hovering in the air. Another appeared, then another, now red in color. You were beginning to feel insane for the second time that day, but rather safe than sorry, you quickly stood, shoving your work and pencils into your bag and shuffling away from the blobs, which were now oscillating and dancing around each other, phasing in and out of existence like a fisheye lens. This was a bit too freaky for your liking, and you were beginning to feel a frightening chill up your spine. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and you elected to put some kind of barrier of safety between yourself and the floating bubbles. Like any rational person, your mind was screaming “unknown situation: possible threat: run!” but again, that little butterfly in the pit of your guts was saying there was something worth staying for. So, running to the door to the roof, you swung it open, a ringing in your ear starting to buzz and chime. You closed it frantically, pressing your nose up against the small glass windows that allowed a limited view of the roof. A small gasp escaped your lips, and you instinctively grabbed onto your bag a bit tighter.

The red and black splotches began to dissipate and fade like some kind of glitch in reality, and three figures appeared like mist, like ghosts before beginning to solidify and slowly become tangible silhouettes. Then, as if some kind of magic ritual was coming to a close, the figures poofed into existence, and your brain processed the scene before you.

“Holy shit…” you whispered. There, clear as day were Sakamoto, Takamaki, and the new kid. They were just standing adjusting their clothes, stretching their arms and legs, situating their personal items. It was just then that you saw a little furry head poke up out of Akira’s school bag. Your harsh, analytical gaze softened a bit upon seeing the small black cat that appeared. Had he been carrying that cat around all day? Surely not, right? How would he keep it quiet and still? “What the…?” The inquisitive glare returned to your features when they began… speaking to the cat. It wasn’t the cute baby talk people often use with their pets, either. It was a full-on, serious conversation, and the cat was meowing back, clearly, in response to their statements.

It was a bit muffled by the thick door, but you could make out bits and pieces.

Metaverse? Palace. Shadows... treasure? Kamoshida? Great, that asshole, but what could he have to do with this? What even was this?

You were questioning everything you knew. You were wondering if the juice you had this morning at breakfast was spiked. There was no winning in this scenario, either you were crazy, or these kids were. You looked downward, contemplating your navel as your mind tried to make sense of the events of today. You glanced up again, trying to eavesdrop a little better, get some more detail. You took a step closer, trying to will the sound of their voices through the door to be just a little louder, just a little clearer, when Sakamoto suddenly pivoted, stretching and cracking his spine with a sigh.

“Gah!” You shouted out. His eyes met yours through the window and widened like a kid caught in the cookie jar. You jumped with a start, taking a cautionary step back and nearly tumbling down the stairs. It was a miracle you caught yourself in time, but your little outburst had definitely caught the attention of the group. Your cover was thoroughly blown. “Oh, no…” You cursed under your breath, spotting both Ann and Akira’s eyes on you now as well.

“Shit! Do you think they saw?” Ryuji’s hands flew to his hair, mussing and working out his frustrations on the dyed strands while simultaneously, Akira was already in motion, rushing toward the door to apprehend the unwelcome listener.

Your heartbeat sped up, and like a gazelle spotted by a lion, a fire was lit under you and you began to sprint, clumsily fumbling down the stairwell and onto the flat platform where the stairs rotated 90 degrees and continued downward. Inhaling sharply, your foot, nervous and supporting jelly-like legs, missed the final step. Your belongings, along with your body, spilled across the square, flat platform, and the door behind you slammed open.

“Hey!” Akira’s yell echoed through the stairwell, and your thoughts bounced off the walls just like his voice. Scrambling, you scooped only the essentials into your hands: your journal, the phone of course, a few homework binders, ditching the easily replaceable items like chewing gum and pencils. Taking to one scraped-up knee and ready to bolt, you felt a hand close upon your bicep and clamp down firmly. “Hey, hey… slow down.” Akira again, now gentler with his tone, spun you around to face him. You stood clutching your things to your chest like a life preserver. “I’m not gonna like… kill you or anything.” A breathy chuckle, and now he was on the platform next to you, scanning you up and down for injuries with his hands in his pockets. “So, uh… so don’t kill yourself by fallin’ down these stairs, huh?” He played off the tense feeling in the air with humor, but the sheer proximity of him, standing there in front of you mere inches away in the cramped space, it was like you could hear your blood pounding in your ears.

What was he thinking right now? Did he think you were some weirdo stalker? I mean, you’d just met him this morning and now you were watching him through a small window like a creep after school… after following him there. Wait, that wasn’t important right now! Was he going to kill you? He didn’t seem like the type of guy to do that, but then again, he didn’t seem like the type to phase in and out of existence either… neither did Ryuji and Ann… what were people with powers like that capable of?

Right now, you were just going to mind your business, and play it safe. It wasn’t worth getting mixed up with people who warp through a “metaverse” and talk to animals just for some good writing material, not if it turned out to be dangerous.

“Well…” you hesitated, “it’s none of my business, what I just saw, and I won’t tell anyone.” You breathed a little easier, tried to regain your composure, to not look too weak.

“So they did see! Awww, shit!” Ryuji’s head popped through the door, interrupting the uncomfortable conversation, and the hot air of the enclosed space was cut through by a gust of wind from the now open rooftop door.

“Now, just hold on, Ryuji,” Akira held out one hand to placate his rather temperamental friend.

“No, no really it’s fine that you talk to your… cat and just… vanish... and I’m sure it’s all fine and multiverse-y and…”

“Metaverse.” Akira corrected you with a small smile, bending down to pick up the rest of your scattered objects.

“Dude!” Ryuji ran a hand down his face in defeat.

“They saw us, no point in being tight-lipped,” he stood, handing them to you.

“Metaverse… right,” you took them, watching every move he made carefully. “Sorry, I’m… a bit more... eloquent in my writing,” you moved to the side, ready to sneak past and descend the rest of the stairs. Anything to get on with your day and escape this unbelievable situation. Akira shuffled, mirroring you and completely blocking the stairwell. There was something clever about him, something sharp and charismatic. He knew exactly what he was doing, what he wanted to achieve, and he knew how to calmly and smoothly execute his plans, unlike Sakamoto, who was far less… organized.

“Writing…?” He was keeping you locked into this conversation, as gently and amiably as he could, and you were not leaving until he was sure he could trust your word.

“Uh… yeah, that’s why I was up…” your eyes met his, quickly recoiling and looking toward the floor again, “...up on the roof. I was just looking for a quiet place to write.”

“What, uh, what kind of stuff do you write?” Ann had now joined Ryuji at the top of the stairs, leaving you feeling completely caged in. Ann threw Akira - who seemed like the leader of the small band of misfits - a desperate glance, a sort of look that seemed to ask: “Where are you going with this? Are we screwed?”

“It’s… it’s kind of private. It’s just… romance stuff. I don’t know, I do all kinds of different stuff, whatever I’m in the mood for.” Akira nodded, more to his friends than you, something you had a feeling you weren’t supposed to pick up on. He stuck his hand out flat, gesturing toward the rooftop behind you. You took the hint, heading a bit anxiously back up the stairs, Ryuji and Ann making way for you.

“You any good?” Akira followed behind you, and now on the rooftop once again, the cool air felt freeing, less constricting, though his question felt a bit insulting, a bit nosey.

“I don’t know… I’ve been told I am…” The three friends took a seat in areas that seemed very familiar to them, like they’d been up here warping in and out of this realm many times before. Now settled into place, Ann spoke up, obviously as apprehensive as you were:

“Well do you… do you think…?” Her high-pitched voice seemed to be hesitant, not yet confident in her next words, not sure if they were all on the same page.

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly,” Akira smirked as if the three had one mind. He turned to you, trying to make eye contact that you vehemently avoided. “How would you feel about helping us out?”

142 notes · View notes

sunlightxing · 4 years ago

Text

Show Me Some Respect

After working for years as a secretary to General Hux aboard the ship, the Finalizer, life could not have been better for you.

That was until Hux informed you that Commander Kylo Ren would be joining you on that ship. Almost immediately, you both resent each other, but after being forced to spend more alone time with him, you begin to wonder, what's so bad about him after all?

Tags on A03 Include:

-Force Choking (Star Wars)

-Fluff and Smut

-Face-Fucking

-Not How the Force is Used

-Armitage Hux Needs a Hug

-Kylo Ren is an asshole

-Y/N Makes Poor Choices

-Praise Kink

-Choking

-Cum-Eating

-Orgasm Delay/Denial

-Sexual Tension

-Sexual Abuse

-Y/N Goes Through A Lot

-Murder

-Possessive Kylo Ren

-Protective Armitage Hux

-Kylo and Hux Get Along Maybe Twice

Chapter 1: Do As He Says

A dread filled morning takes you by suspense when your boss, General Hux, riddles you with nothing but fear for your first encounter with the menacing, Commander Kylo Ren.

A/N: Hello to readers here on tumblr. I’m a little new to posting original work (especially writing) on here so bear with me as I figure it all out! I hope you enjoy my first ever Kylo Ren X Reader story (I dont use y/n cause I don’t like it, my deepest apologies)

Why’d you leave us?

A faint voice called out to you in the distance, so soft and silky, daintily whispering to you. Despite the initial faintness, it slowly began to get closer and closer, its volume ever increasing.

Your eyes fluttered open, but the bright sun blinded them, causing you to seal them shut once more. Eventually, they adjusted to the light, and you opened them to see so many large, and bare trees stretching towards the sky above you. White speckles, snow, were falling all around you, some flakes even landing on your nose.

It felt oddly peaceful, the soft moss around you feeling more comfortable than your own bed. It encased around you, smothering you with warmth and comfort. You kept your eyes shut, and felt yourself seconds from falling asleep on the slightly snow-covered ground. For just a moment, your reopened your eyes, getting one more view of your surrounding before drifting off. But then, to your horror, you saw that the ground next to you was completely covered in blood.

Your eyes widened in fear as you jolted away from your spot on the ground, and pushed yourself up against a nearby tree. The voice in the distance was coming closer towards you, and kept roaring louder and louder. The blood on the ground began to expand, seeping through the moss at an alarming rate. It surrounded the entire area around you, except directly where you were sitting.

As you glanced back up at the sky, the snow, which had now transformed into an icy hail, had begun to take on an even stranger form. In its image, flashes of their faces blew past you, and with it, followed the sound of their screams and cries. Pleading for help, for you to save them. The smell of burning wood wafted into your nostrils, and that voice in the distance was still growing louder. You knew that soon, it would be upon you.

"Wake up, wake up. Please fucking wake up!"

In a jolt of cold sweats, you gasped back to reality, frantically scanning the area around you to make sure it was safe.

"Just a dream, it was just a dream."

Your breath was sporadic, leaving you a panting and anxious mess as you pulled yourself out of bed. Even the smallest movement caused a massive amount of pain surge to through your head.

"I can't take another one of those nightmares." You thought, grabbing the glass of water from your nightstand. You looked over at your clock groggily, and your heart sank upon seeing that you had overslept, giving you little to no time to prepare for the day.

The shower water was freezing when you initially turned it on, per usual. It always felt embarrassing to have to stand outside the door, completely nude, occasionally dangling your finger under the water to see if it had heated up yet.

Over 3 years ago you began working as a secretary to General Hux, and though there was a monstrous amount of glitz and glam thought to come with such a job, it couldn't have been more painfully annoying.

Sure, Hux was somewhat kind and caring towards you, but every other person you pitifully encountered treated you like shit. They'd throw their fits when you wouldn't deliver their papers, shine their boots, tasks they very easily could've done themselves, but simply refused. It wasn't the most difficult job in the world, despite the constant hazing. However, their was a shocking increase in secretaries amongst the First Order. It was most definitely due to the jobs incredible bore-ability, and the fact whoever was placed in such a position would be treated like garbage by everyone they encountered.

You rushed through your shower, only using the time to wash your hair and then yourself. The steam from the hot water had fogged your mirror, which made it hard for you to see your hair when putting it up into two long french braids. You pulled a few strands out in the front, trying to look somewhat nice since your uniform sure didn't help. It was a shapeless, olive green suit, with baggy pants, and thick, heavy boots. The hat that came along with it also wasn't very flattering, but it wasn't like anyone saw you other than your crewmates, and General Hux.

You took another swig from your cup of water as you stared out your glass window and into the infinite galaxy. Your brain decided to alert you of how Hux would be ridiculously pissed off if you were late, as today was one of the days you dreaded most of all since you began working on the Finalizer. The ship would be making its way back to Starkiller base, and you were anything but excited for that.

Several technicians raced by you, heading off to fix some malfunction in the interior of the ship. You always looked at them and wondered if they enjoyed their jobs here, or if, just like you, it was a love-hate relationship.

You entered the control room, staring the other programmers and pilots plugging away at their stations. Though they didn't technically fly the Finalizer, their work was incredibly important. You liked to think yours was important as well, but in reality, it was pointless. Technically, you were Huxs' right hand. As a result, he told you practically anything and everything. So it was more like you were a glorified therapist that followed him around like a lost pet.

"Cadet," a voice said behind you. General Hux was standing at the entrance to the control room, looking a lot more frazzled than usual. "Will you walk with me for a moment?"

You nodded, following closely behind him. Unlike usual, you decided to keep your mouth shut, hoping he would start to explain why he looked so disheveled and unnerved, but he didn't say a word. It was becoming harder to not acknowledge how his body trembled intensely with ever step he took.

"General, if I may ask, is everything alright?" You questioned sweetly, trying not to sound disrespectfully intrusive.

Hux let out a heavy sigh, stopping for a moment to rest against a nearby wall. "I am, not alright," he panted, his voice shaking more than his body was. "When we arrive at Starkiller base, you're going to have to meet The Commander, and I already know you two will not get along."

Your face recoiled as you began to dig into the back of your mind. "Did he mean Commander Ren? That stubborn brute?" You laughed to yourself, while Hux was seconds from engaging in a panic attack.

"This is no laughing matter cadet!" He hollered, his voice nearly cracking at every syllable.

You let out a long sigh. "Hux, I can deal with Kylo Ren. He doesn't scare me at all."

"He should scare you," Hux stated plainly. "My last secretary, before you. He made one simple mistake, and Ren saw to it that the poor boy was eradicated."

Your eyes grew wide with fear, darting away from his gaze so he couldn't see the horror on your face. Hux said it plain as day, if you made so much as one, small mistake, Commander Ren would personally see to it that you were eradicated as well.

Hux groaned. "We both work for the same Supreme Leader, which means I have to work with him." His breathing patterns began to grow more heavy and frantic, and his face flushed with a vibrant red.

You tried to calm him down, as you knew the ship couldn't make the entire flight back without his orders. The two of you had gotten rather close, and you had a lot of respect for him. He'd come in some days looking like he'd seen a ghost, and you wouldn't have been shocked if he had. If the Commander managed to make Hux, your boss, that anxious, you knew this couldn't be good.

After what seemed like seconds, you had arrived at your destination. Just the sight of Starkiller base sent shivers down your spine.

Sure, you'd been their plenty of times, but you never had to willingly interact with the Commander before. In fact, you'd never so much as seen the smallest fragment of his figure. Which would make his reveal all the more terrifying.

As you approached the landing bay, the large metal doors began to open to allow your entrance in. Hux came up behind you, his posture had been perfected, and all expression on his face had been wiped. He looked like a whole new man, and you weren't sure that if you wanted to get on the Commander's good side, you'd have to become a whole new woman.

"The Commander would like us both to meet with him in his quarters before he joins us onboard." Hux said, his voice shaking. You nodded as you took one more look at the hull of the control room, not sure if it was your last.

The pair of you made your way from the control room, to the landing bay. A small craft would take you from the Finalizer to the bay on Starkiller, but you wanted nothing more than just to stay put. There were ways where you could completely avoid the Commander for the entire duration he was here, you hoped. You would just have to hide in a waste bucket every time he came near Hux, and that didn't seem so bad. You groaned, glancing over at Hux as the cruiser landed rather dramatically at the center of the bay.

“Hux, he’s going to hate me, isn’t he?”

He sighed, placing an awkward arm on your shoulder, his attempt at comfort. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

As the pair of you walked down the long hallways of the Starkiller base, it felt as if you were walking to your doom. Which, in reality you probably were. Two stormtroopers had been sent to escort you from the ship to Commander Rens' quarters. They didn't say a word the entire trip to said quarters, despite Hux's several attempts.

Eventually, the four of you arrived at what you presumed to be the Commander's meeting room. The two troopers walked up to the door, placing a loud knock on it to signal their arrival, and then stationed themselves on either side of it. Hux took in a deep breath as he began typing into a small keypad attached to the entrance, and then, the door was open.

"Commander, my apologies on us being later than normal." Hux said, walking through the doorway to the meeting room.

"Oh Gods."

Commander Ren looked like nothing you had expected, though you couldn't really see all of him. He was tall, absolutely massive, his muscles practicality protruding from his sleeves. But his face, you couldn't see so much as an outline of that. Covering it was a thick, solid metal mask, breathing canal and all. He was a true Vader knock off.

He slowly turned around, a feeling of pure rage wafting off of him. For a brief moment, you were certain he was seconds from smashing Huxs' head in, but then he stopped dead in his tracks. His head titled from Huxs' body to your own. Though you couldn't see his facial expression underneath that mask, you new it was one of disgust.

"Who are you?" He asked, gesturing in your direction. You arched your eyebrows in confusion, could he not tell just by simply looking at your uniform?

"No answer?" Commander Ren scoffed.

"I'm his secretary, Commander," you stated, gesturing in Huxs' direction, "didn't you request my presence here? "

He shook his head, placing a hand on the front of that intimidating facial shield. The movement made it look as if he was gaining a headache from your small amount of talking. "This is who you had replace the old one?" Commander Ren hissed, "have you no shame, Hux?"

"Ren, she is very talented in her work and a fantastic secretary," Hux responded, glancing over in your direction. "She has made a fantastic replacement." You smiled, happy to know Hux would still show you some form of kindness around the Commander.

"Hux," Commander Ren stated, "I'll trust your judgment here." He approached Hux slowly, giving him ample time to make your poor General tremble in fear. The Commander stopped inches from his face, his mask nearly touching the tip of Huxs' nose.

"If she makes so much as one mistake, she's gone."

Your face recoiled in disgust. "Well, what the fuck?" You thought to yourself. Did he actually doubt your abilities that much? Or was this all some sort of twisted test of your competence?

The Commander darted his head around, glaring at you in rage. Your body went completely stiff as his masked gaze penetrated your mind. A trill of pain surged through your temples, like something was digging around in your brain for any scrap of information. "That language of hers will not be tolerated either." He spat, looking back at Hux.

"My what? The hell is he talking about? I have yet to swear!" Your brain was spiraling out of control, and that trill of energy still surged throughout your brain.

His ego was disgustingly immense, not to mention he was a delusional idiot. The fool was making up down right lies about you, and to wait gain? He was already addressing Hux in such a disrespectful manner, he didn't need to take it out on you as well. But what even gave him the right to talk down to Hux in such a manner? He wasn't in any better of a position to lead than the General was, not to mention the fact that Hux was a lot easier to deal with, and a lot less moronic.

Commander Ren stood in place, his body shaking violently with rage. Huxs' body was also shaking, but his was out of fear. This was the first time you'd ever seen Hux so threatened by anyone. Usually, he presented such a mass amount of authority and dictation. But here, he was nothing more than a coward.

The Commander gave you an over-the-shoulder glance, and in that moment, you felt time stop. The world around you faded into black. Now, only you and him were in that room, and fear and panic began to rapidly set in. Your body had turned chillingly cold, and air escaped you.

A flash of light hit your eyes, his leather glove reflecting off the overhead chandelier. Before you could get a warning out, he slammed his fist into the wall next to Huxs' head. His curled hand punctured the metal frame, sending hundreds of small electrical sparks flying, leaving bare and broken wires in its wake.

"You teach her to show me some respect, or I will" Commander Ren hissed, his clenched fist now inches from Huxs' face.

Hux folded onto the metal floor, panting uncontrollably as the Commander hovered menacingly above him. You stood gazing at the pair of them, completely motionless, gulping down the fear that was now lodged in your throat. Your pupils shook in horror at what you had just seen, how absolutely horrid your new ship companion was.

Commander Ren glared at you, watching as every inch of your body trembled at his presence. He scoffed, storming out of the room with a prompt slam of the door, the sheer force alone causing you to jump. You looked back at Hux, whose forehead was drenched in sweat, and a slight tremor was visible on his hands. Carefully, as not to frighten him more, you reached down for his hand, an effort to help guide him up off of the floor.

"General..." You pleaded, wrapping your hand around his own as you began to lift. Hux shook you away, pulling himself off of the ground, trying not to show weakness. It was obvious that he was embarrassed of your viewing of his encounter with Commander Ren, but he shouldn't have been. All that quarrel showed was the fact Commander Ren was a prissy little bitch, and tyrant.

Hux dusted off his long coat, and smoothed back his red hair to its original, kept manner. He bit his lip, holding himself back from lashing out against anything the Commander had just done. You hoped he would do it anyway, give you some sort of hint that he too hated Commander Rens guts. But instead, he stared intensely at the door, his eyes becoming bloodshot with rage.

"If you want to make it out of here alive," Hux gulped, "you must to do as he says."

You scoffed in disbelief. "Hux you cannot possibly believe that," you cried. "He isn't as high and mighty as he claims to b-"

Hux slammed his hand over your mouth, his bare fingers tracing over the lining of your lips. His eyes stared painfully into your own, showing so much fear and uncertainty. "I told you to do as he says!" He hollered, the veins in his neck protruding from his already rose colored flesh. Hux removed his hand from over your mouth, and with another brush of his cape, he was gone out the doorway too, much less dramatically than the Commander.

You turned around, looking at the meeting room remorsefully. Your life had just flipped completely upside down, and you know now that you had no say in anything that would happen to it. Hux obviously wasn't going to be any help in standing up against Commander Rens' tyranny, so it looked like you were on your own.

And you hated being on your own.

You walked back to the ship with shane covering your entire body. Every person who passed by you, whether it was a technician or a stormtrooper, seemed to be mocking you. While that wasn't at all the case, Commander Rens' doubt of your capabilities made it seem like everyone else doubted them as well.

As you turned a corner, so flustered and furious you didn't even know what planet you were on, another secretary slammed into you, spilling an incredibly hot and sticky liquid all over your uniform. "Oh my Gods, I am so sorry!" The girl whimpered, reaching for a cloth towel at her side to try and help dry you off.

You clenched your jaw tightly, worried all your rage might come flying out at her. She looked to be so incredibly overworked and stressed, just like you were about to be. You wondered if she had ever dealt with Commander Ren, or maybe her own General was just as terrible as he was, though you doubted that was humanly possible. You hated to admit it as much as the next person, but the treatment of secretaries, especially those that were female, could not have been more horrendous. Every one you had encountered had a horror story, or was currently living through one. Thankfully, your first job was with someone like Hux, a lot more patient and caring than any other. Thoughts crossed your mind of how awful your life would've been if your first job was to Commander Ren. Just the idea alone sent shivers down your spine.

The girl finally finished drying off the excess with a little help from you, but your clothes were soaked with whatever fluid she dumped onto you. Her eyes slowly began to swell up with tears as she stared at your ruined uniform.

"Hey," you said, taking her hand in your own. “There’s no need to cry. I'll go clean it myself, and it'll be good as new, don't worry."

She sniffled, reaching her other hand up to wipe the tears off of her face. Never could you have managed to snap at that girl, because you knew exactly what kind of suffering she was going through, as you had just dealt with the worst of it all. The girl hugged you in gratitude before scurrying back to wherever she came from, getting a replacement for the drink she had dropped. You took in a deep breath as you dreadfully looked down at your tarnished gown. Starkiller base was not somewhere you were familiar with, so finding a washroom was going to be far greater task than it should have been.

For what seemed like hours, you scanned each and every room across the vastness of the ship, hoping to finally find an area for you to clean off your soiled uniform. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched a stormtrooper exit a room with a fully washed, black undergarment, and you knew you had finally found your sought for destination. Rushing into the room, you hoped no one else would be inside, so you could quickly rip off your uniform and wash it without anyone seeing you in nothing but a bra and underwear.

Thankfully, no one was inside the washroom, giving you ample time to strip practically nude, and lock the door behind you as to not allow anyone to barge in.

Staring blankly at the machine that scrubbed and cleansed your attire, the chill of the empty room you sat in was beginning to sting your bare skin, your hair sticking up and goosebumps forming across every inch of it.

The process could not have taken any longer, but finally, it was washed, and ready to be moved to the next machine for drying. Minutes passed by as you sat in the cold and ever darkening room, rubbing up against the warm drying machine periodically as to not die of hypothermia.

"For God's sake, can you just hurry up!" You cried, slamming your foot against the machine, hoping that would throw it into a faster gear.

It did no good, the machine kept carrying on at its slow pace, causing nothing but agony and frustration on your part. You groaned, flopping back into the chair you had been sitting in, only for it to crumble into a hundred tiny pieces as you flopped yourself onto it.

"Mother fucker!" You groaned, lifting yourself off of the cold, metal floor. A bruise was clearly about to form upon your ass after that downfall.

"Language, cadet. That mouth will get you nowhere."

You spun around quickly, leaving your bra-covered breasts completely exposed to the eyes of Commander Ren, who now stood perfectly centered at the entrance of the washroom, the door closed behind him. Your eyes jolted to the lock that was now unfastened on the doorway, yet upon making eye contact, it clicked back into a locked position. Looking down, you noticed Commander Rens' finger was out of place from the rest of his clenched fist, and though at first you had no idea how he managed to weasel his way in here, now you did.

"The force?" You questioned in the back of your mind, watching the pointer finger retreat back to its clenched position.

His head tilted down, obviously showing his gaze had shifted from your eyes, to your almost fully naked body. You covered as much of yourself as you could, feeling completely flustered that so much of you was exposed to his eyes.

"What?" You asked. "Planning on insulting me again? Just get out."

"You're hung up on that?" He questioned, letting a small chuckle escape his throat. "I could have said so much worse."

You rolled your eyes at him, now hoping to make him so angry he would storm out like he did before. "Good for you, Commander. I'm sure you could've."

Silence reigned in the room longer than you would've preferred it to. You had hoped he would make some ridiculous, insulting statement so you could fire back at it, but he was silent.

"Do you mind?" You questioned, tilting your head towards the doorway so he could take the hint to leave.

"The ship was supposed to depart exactly 17 seconds ago," he remarked, keeping his gaze on your chest area, "Hux was going to be sent after you, if I didn't choose to."

You curled your lip sarcastically, letting out a small laugh along with it. "Well thank you so much for that, sir," you said sarcastically, again, gesturing towards the door in hopes that he would leave.

There was a long pause, giving you time to reflect on what he had just said. He would've had no knowledge your uniform had been soiled, tarnished by that poor girls dropped beverage.

So how the fuck did he know you were here?

He stood motionless. The only noise he exuded was the almost asthmatic breathing sounds from his mask. "Finish whatever task this is." Commander Ren instructed, finally moving his gaze away from your body.

He turned to the doorway, giving you a final glance before opening the door, and exiting the room. You stared at the metal frame in disbelief, the fact the Commander had just seen you in arguably your most venerable state was horrifying and embarrassing.

A slight movement on the door caught your attention, as the knob shifted back to its locked position. "Jeez, how kind of him," you scolded, turning back to the dryer that had finally finished its job, of course, right after the Commander had left.

After unlocking the door to the washroom, adorning your freshly cleaned uniform, you sprinted down the halls towards the bay. Thankfully, there wasn't a line of people standing outside the washroom waiting to use it themselves. For if they had seen the Commander in there with you, things would have just gotten so much more complicated.

You marched down the halls, now thinking about how ridiculously awkward your next several months of encounters with the Commander would be, now that your second meeting with him was when you were practically naked.

“Gods. This day cannot get any worse."

#star wars #kylo ren #ben solo #adam driver #kylo x you #kylo x reader #general hux #love triangle #smut #star wars fluff #sequels #stormtrooper #x reader

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pixelwisp-archive · 4 years ago

Text

Itadakimasu!! | Part 8: Stick to What You’re Good At (Written Chapter)

word count: 3.9k - I’m so sorry

Eggplant and Kabocha Miso Gratin?

No. That's a little too much.

Maybe a Cream stew?

No, that's too easy.

"Just make a curry. It's chilly today. I'm sure he'll appreciate the warmth." Kuguri's voice broke through the silence in the small kitchen. You pulled your head up from the depths of the recipe box to look at him, your eyes gleaming at the idea.

"You're a genius, you know that?" A ghost of a smile fluttered onto his face and Kuguri exhaled a mix between a sigh and a laugh as he stopped at the threshold of the kitchen. You watched as his eyes travelled across the kitchen, landing on a seemingly inconspicuous vase placed in the corner, where a few stems of peach blossoms drank in the sun that beamed through the kitchen window. He stared a little too long, you noted, and a grin stretched across your face.

“They’re from Kita.” The pink tint to the tips of Kuguri's ears didn't go unnoticed by you, and you couldn't suppress the giggle that bubbled up and slipped past your lips. He cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from the small vase, walking toward the fridge and pulling out a drink. Tearing open the cap, he took a large gulp and finally snuck a look over at you, your knowing smile making the blush creep up his neck at an alarming pace.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"I'm not looking at you like anything," you teased as your eyes quickly left his figure and went back to the recipe box to rifle through them, this time in search for Baachan’s curry recipe. "There was a note, by the way." Kuguri walked over to the folded card that stood in front of the simple arrangement. He delicately grabbed it and flipped the cardstock open, brows furrowing at the text.

“‘Fascinating’. What do you suppose that means?” You shrugged, fingers dancing across the dozens of small, ivory cards with various family secret recipes from generations before etched in a delicate scrawl onto the face.

“He finds you fascinating, I guess? aha,” a victorious gasp left you as you found the correct recipe, plucking it from it’s home inside the ornate wooden box. A satisfied smirk settled onto your lips as you made a mental note of the ingredients you had, the ones you didn’t, and how much time you had.

“Or you, they could have been for you,” he said. You scoffed.

“I can’t think of a single conversation with Kita that hasn’t ended up about you. They’re not for me, dork.” Kuguri cleared his throat again, slightly more aggressively this time, and took another generous gulp of his aloe drink.

“Changing the topic - Miya is coming over today.” You eyed Kuguri, suspicion evident on your face.

“...Yes, he is.”

“And you’re cooking for him.” That faint smile was back, this time accompanied with a, what, coy? no. Mischievous, expression. “Sound’s like a date.”

He chuckled when you made an exaggerated gag, your finger pointed to the back of your throat. “Absolutely not. He’s just coming to fix the stove. He told me not to pay him so instead I’m feeding him,” you explained, fussing with the recipe box and placing it off to the side. “Can you believe he insinuated I was gonna give him food poisoning? The nerve.”

Kuguri sat across from you and rested his chin onto his palm. “So that’s why you’re obsessing over what to make.” Another scoff left you as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I’m not obsessing.”

“You’ve been hunched over your ‘super special, super secret’ family recipe box for the better part of-” He checks his watch. “-Two hours.”

Your cheeks flushed as you confirmed the time on your phone. Okay, so maybe you had been obsessing a little, but it was only because you wanted to make sure that whatever you make tonight is so good that it slaps the condescending grin off his face and he has no choice but to bow at your superiority. The thought alone made your lips curl into a devilish grin.

"I just wanna make sure that whatever I make tonight is so good he actually shuts up for once." That made Kuguri laugh, and Kuguri's laugh was always so pretty - it was light, a little breathy, and made your heart feel a thousand times bigger than it was. It directly contradicted your own loud, boisterous sound that resonated across any room. Your eyes crinkled and you giggled along with him as you finished the food list you scribbled on the back of a spam letter and grabbed your keys.

"I'm heading to the market, text me if you need anything, ok?" He nodded and you took that as your queue to leave, his echoes of 'drive safe' fading behind you as you descended the stairwell and out of the shop.

Osamu stood at your shop’s side entrance for what seemed like hours. It was like clockwork: every few seconds, he’d raise his fist to announce his arrival, pause right as his knuckles were millimeters away from making contact with the weathered door, stand there frozen for approximately fourteen and a half seconds, groan internally and let his fist fall limply at his side, only to repeat the action in about ten more seconds.

Was he supposed to knock? Walk in unannounced? You were expecting him any minute now, and he began to feel the beads of sweat on the back of his neck. Walking in without warning seemed rude, but it was going to be a bakery soon, so would it seem weirder for him to knock when its technically a public establishment? Maybe he should just go around the front instead so it would seem less rude to just walk in. No no, that’s stupid, just knock, you dumbass. Osamu raised his fist and brought it down to rap on the bright, Robin’s Egg blue wood when it suddenly opened, revealing you in all your frazzled glory. Unfortunately, his brain didn’t catch up with him and he continued to bring his arm forward, making contact with your forehead instead of the door.

You yelped, more out of surprise than real pain, and reeled back, your hand finding its way onto the crown of your head. He also took a step back in shock, noting the way your mood instantly soured once you recognized him. An uncomfortable silence fell between you and he took the opportunity to take in your appearance; your hair had been thrown up haphazardly and your apron was an absolute battlefield of food stains. The sweatpants you had on had been rolled up, the left one being significantly higher than the right one. He cracked a smile at the flour that was smeared across your cheek and sprinkled in your hair.

Cute.

“What?” Osamu blinked. Did he say something?

“Is there something on my face?” Your hand moved from from your head to your cheek, the wrong cheek, and he had to bring his hand up to his mouth and clear his throat to cover the smile that wanted to make itself known.

“No, no, you’re fine,” he lied. His eyes travelled to the trash bag you had been holding onto, noting the way your grasp had been strained by the weight of it. “I can take that for ya,” he said, and reached out to relieve the task from you. You were having none of it, however, and you pulled it out of his reach.

“I can do things for myself, thank you.” His brows shot up and he shot you an amused grin.

“And yet ya can’t fix a stove.” You grumbled something about him being a smartass, and he laughed as he moved to the side, opening a path to the dumpster. He could see the effort you were making in trying to look like you weren’t struggling with the weight of the bag, but the slight tremor in your arm and unsteadiness to your legs gave you away.

“Are ya sure you’re gonna be able to pick that up over the dumpster?” He couldn’t see your face, but he didn’t need to - he could feel the scowl radiating off you like a force field. As if to prove him wrong, you said nothing, and instead hauled the bag over the side of the dumpster with a small grunt, the clang of the bag hitting the bottom of the bin echoing through the small alleyway. You dusted your hands off, shooting a smug grin his way.

“Told you I got it, now let me through - I’ll show you where the stove is.”

It wasn’t until he stepped into the bakery that he noticed just how good the food you were making smelled. His steps faltered behind you as he took a slow, steady inhale, reveling in the warmth the scent alone was giving him. He knew you were making curry, that kind of dish always had such a distinct essence to it, plus the fresh stains on your apron had been another dead giveaway. Osamu would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited to be able to try some, though the excitement came with a slight bitter aftertaste.

“Here she is, in all her glory.” You gestured toward the ornate stove sitting along the far wall, the gold trim against the iron making it a clear statement piece for the kitchen. Osamu let out an impressed whistle as he bent down and gingerly ran hands across the door to the oven.

“I can see why ya wanna restore.” His eyes met yours and he swore your eyes sparkled when you stared at the antique.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” He hummed in agreement and shifted so he could pull the oven a little farther from the wall to take a peak. “Ah, I have a tool kit, lemme grab it for you.” You scurried off to the opposite corner of the shop, returning moments later with the aforementioned object in hand. He muttered a small thank you, and the smile you gave in return was so cute he had to look away.

“I should be good down here. You should probably check on your curry, might burn.” He heard you scoff in protest, but after a moment of silence, you rushed up the stairs and he couldn’t stop the smirk that crept up his face. Osamu turned his attention back to the stove as he flipped open the tool box.

“Alright Pretty, let’s see what ya got for me.”

“Kuguri, have I ever told you that I’m a fucking god?” You were (sort of) joking, but you couldn’t help the tiny snort that escaped you at the sheer exhaustion on Kuguri’s face when he met your gaze. He sighed and walked over the pot of curry that you had been towering over for the last three hours.

“I take it the curry was successful?” You gestured for him to try it and took a step back. You clasped your hands together in front of your chest as you watch on with bright eyes and an even brighter grin.

There was genuinely nothing more satisfying than seeing someone enjoy the food that you made. The way Kuguri sighed into the bite as his eyes fell shut had you swelling with pride, bouncing on the balls of your feet in excitement as you waited for him to say something. He was quiet for what felt like an eternity, before finally, he put down the spoon and turned to you with an unreadable expression.

“You said you wanted to shut him up?” You nodded, your eyes flitting between him and the pot. “After this, he’ll never be able to speak again.” You cackled in victory and shooed Kuguri out of the kitchen.

“Thank you, thank you, I know I’m a culinary genius. Now shoo, I have to plate everything. You mind letting him know?”

“Sure thing. Oh,” Kuguri whirled back around to look at you “I forgot to mention, I won’t be eating with you guys, I have a meeting with one of the contractors. Save me a plate?” A groan left you and you reached up to clutch his arm, a desperate plea written across your face.

“You’re leaving me here? with him? Alone? Don’t you love me at all?” Kuguri chuckled and waved you off, shooting you a look.

“You’re a grown woman, I think you can manage one meal with Miya alone.”

“Fine, but if it gets ugly, you have to help me dispose of the body.” He sighed, but you spotted the smile he tried to cover up by wiping a hand down his face. You waved goodbye as you turned your attention back to the food to plate the curry and rice. Hands worked diligently, and as you heard the muffled voices beneath you followed by the shop door closing and footsteps ascending the stairs, you swallowed the bundle of nerves that had worked its way into your system.

Your grandmother’s food is always well received; It was the star of every function, holiday, and bake sale from way back when you were growing up in Miyagi to now, with you carrying on her legacy. You had never met anyone who didn’t love something from the recipe box, so you weren’t sure why you seemed especially desperate to garner Osamu Miya of all people’s approval.

You were satisfied with the excuse that it was because you didn’t want to give him any more fuel to act like a condescending shit lord to you.

When the door to the apartment opened, you had just finished placing the prepped plates onto the dinner table. The effort it took in avoiding eye contact was beginning to weigh down on you, and finally, you gave up, looking up from the spoon you were meticulously situating to meet his cocked eyebrow.

“I think that spoon’s still a little off-center,” he joked. You crossed your arms over the front of you and shot him a glare.

“Har Har. How did it go with the stove?”

“I got it workin’. Actually wasn’t too bad of a fix. Just a little finicky,” he said. His voice was slightly drowned out by the sound of the kitchen sink running. Your eyes remained trained on his figure, absentmindedly staring as his shoulders moved along with his hands as he washed them. The sound of the faucet turning off pulled you back and you shook your head, turning toward the table with a grimace.

“Thank you again, I seriously didn’t want to have to gamble any more of the renovation funds,” you said, hoping he didn’t see you staring at him like he was the most interesting being in existence. He sat down across from you and sent a polite smile your way.

“Not a problem.” The two of you stewed in the awkward silence and you noticed that neither of you had reached for the food yet. Did he even like curry? You mentally slapped yourself for forgetting to ask.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to ask if you liked curry. I just assumed,” you admitted, and he shook his head.

“Oh no, that’s not it, I just, uh..” Osamu’s voice faltered, and his brows came together with a frown. “I have a feeling I’m gonna like it.”

The grin that flew onto your face oozed with superiority. The fact that the mere thought of enjoying your food upset him only made your impending victory taste that much sweeter to you. You watched him like a hawk and thrived on how uncomfortable he looked across from you, painstakingly taking his first bite.

As stated before, there was nothing more satisfying than seeing someone enjoy your food, and you thought Osamu would be no exception, but this stingy little asshole maintained an entirely unreadable expression as he closed his mouth around the spoon, popped it out, chewed, and swallowed. You fidgeted in your seat as you waited for him to say literally anything about it, but he remained lost in thought, looking anywhere but at you as he reached for a second bite.

“Well?” Your voiced must have snapped him from whatever he was daydreaming about because he looked almost startled when his eyes finally met your own.

“Oh, sorry...” He trailed off, eyes fluttering back down toward the curry. “It’s good.”

“Just good?”

“Its really good?” He offered, and you scoffed, grumbling something about ‘it should be the best damn curry you’ve ever had,’ as you dug into your own plate, melting as soon as the spices touched your tongue. The beef had become so tender that you swore it would fall apart if you so much as looked at it a little too long, and the vegetables had just the right kind of consistency and complimented the beef perfectly. The ginger and curry were so warm together it reminded you of a time during winter break, snuggled with your Grandmother by the old brick fireplace, the vibrant orange glow of the flame illuminating her frail figure as she regaled you with exaggerated stories of her youth. She always made sure to end each tale with a lesson, and a challenge: to never settle until you could say with confidence that you were irrevocably happy.

Osamu cleared his throat, effectively bringing you back to the current moment. Your eyes flickered over to his plate and you noticed it was empty. He took the napkin and quickly wiped at his mouth, but you still caught a glimpse of the pout that he was clearly trying so hard to hide. A smug grin stretched out across your face and you tilted back down to take another bite.

“You can get more, if you’d like.” He grunted in response, but got up nonetheless, helping himself to a second plate as he pointedly ignored the pride that oozed off of you.

“It’s okay, you can say it, the curry is amazing, stupendous, out of this world-”

“It’s delicious.”

You blinked. To be honest, you weren’t expecting him to admit it right off the bat, especially since he made a point to say it was just “good” earlier. Whatever snippy reply you had stored died immediately in your throat, and you found your pride shrinking as a new bashfulness took over instead.

“Oh. Thank you.” Osamu nodded in response, and suddenly it was like a gateway opened - for the first time, you guys conversed with relative ease. It was hardly anything more than history and business, but the fact that you weren’t considering stuffing his body into a trash bag was certainly saying something. It was...nice, being able to talk to him like this, and you had to admit you’d take this over the usual pissing match any day.

Osamu mentioned how Kita was a rice farmer and was his supplier as well as business partner. He spoke about how they were old teammates who decided to go on similar lifepaths which led to them working together once Osamu opened up his shop in Osaka. You learned that they originated from Hyogo, and that Kita still lives there and makes the hour long commute to the shop a few times a week just to help Osamu out with the shop.

You told him about how you managed the volleyball club back in high school. (He joked about showing you a few moves, and you joked back that you bet you could destroy him since the Wakatoshi Ushijima taught you well enough that you can hold your own in a match any day of the week.) You talked about moving to Tokyo with Tendou after graduating, and how you guys decided to open up the bakery together as business partners. You gushed about the hopes you had for Paradis, the dreams that had spent so much time buried in your notebook finally getting a chance to come to life with this new location. Your eyes sparkled as you babbled on about all the plans you had for Paradis.

“I just...I always intended for Paradis to be more than just a bakery.” Both of your plates had been long finished and were set off to the side. You sat cross legged on the dining chair, your hands fiddling with each other in your lap. Osamu had his chin resting on his hand and he listened so intently it sometimes made you feel a little too seen.

“How so?”

“Well, for one, I’d love to expand the menu,” you explained, and you saw his face fall with furrowed brows and a deep frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Why would ya expand the menu?” There was a sharpness to his voice, and you were taken aback. You shrunk back in your seat as you chose your next words carefully.

“I want people to enjoy all of my food, not just the sweets...why?” His face hardened, eyes trained anywhere but your face as he stood up abruptly. He reached for both dishes and made his way to the kitchen wordlessly.

The two of you had a habit of having this uncomfortable silence fall between you, and you hated it, because the tension was always so thick it felt like you were suffocating. You wondered if he hated it too, or if he thrived in it, like some sort of deranged villain reveling in the suffering of his underlings. You found yourself glaring at his back as he washed your dishes, drying them and putting them off to the side without saying a word.

Eventually, he turned around, and the frown that had been evident on his face deepened once he made your irritated gaze. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? What the hell did I do to piss you off?”

“There’s no reason why you should expand the menu.”

“I just gave you a reason. Plus, you seemed to like my food enough to have two helpings, it’s not like I can’t cook. Why shouldn’t I?”

“The curry was fine, it wasn’t anythin’ to write home about. I was just starving because I missed lunch.” You scoffed.

“That’s a load of bullshit. You know you loved it.”

“I told ya it was better than it was because ya would’ve had a hissy fit otherwise.”

“Oh, fuck you, Miya. I can’t believe I was actually beginning to enjoy your company for once.” He rolled his eyes and made his way to your apartment entrance. He paused at the threshold of the open door, looking straight ahead and most definitely not at you.

“Don’t bother expanding. Stick to what you’re good at if ya want any chance of success here.” With that last remark, he ushered down the stairs and back home, leaving you frozen in the kitchen consumed with rage, shock, confusion - and you didn’t move until Kuguri came through the door and gasped in surprise at the sight of you still in the kitchen.

“Jesus, y/n, you scared the hell out of me. What’s going on? Are you okay?” The frustration bubbled up inside you and you felt hot tears tickle the back of your eyes. The shock of Osamu’s sudden animosity toward you settled into your bones, leaving behind a residue of white hot anger. You willed the tears away and looked over at the curry, then at Kuguri.

“I hate him, Kuguri.”

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Fun Facts -

no fun facts today, My brain is fried lol. Might add later!

A/N: Long boi today, I’m so sorry for the long wait for this chapter!! I hope you guys enjoyed the holiday if you celebrated and I hope you enjoy the chapter - I feel like I should have definitely split this up into two parts, let me know if you’d prefer smaller chapters or if this is more preferable lmao thank you ok bye

Taglist (shoot me an ask if you’d like to be added!) -

@larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @fucktheworlddude @doctorspencereid @keiarma @cherriechurros @halesandy @k3nma-fairy @jewlmin @tabipleats @kaleidoscopekai @confusedturtle @vintagexparker @hoeevern @syaziahvg @hallothankmas @lilith412426

#is this a terrible time to post #probably #no one is active rn usually lmao #but its fine #Itadakimasu!!#osamu smau #osamu x reader #osamu miya #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya smau #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #h #haikyuu!! smau #hq!! smau #hq!! x reader #haikyu!! x reader

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mediocre--writing · 4 years ago

Note

Heyyyyyy can you write something sweet with George Weasley?

Maybe reader works in a flower shop nearby? Or literally anything with him because reasons😄 thanks😘

Summary: After your initial meeting, you and George become fast friends, but what if there’s more under the surface?

Word Count: 2066

Warnings: none

The Weasleys, a large pack of gingers who seemed to always overtake any space they were in, were on their yearly trip to Diagon Alley.

As usual, it was destined that one of them would get lost or get distracted by the pretty displays along the sidewalks.

Ginny, the youngest of them, was entranced by the flower shop near the corner of the street. There was a lovely bouquet of daffodils near the window and their bright color was so magical, she felt as though they were calling to her.

As the rest of the family moved onward, Ginny started walking towards the flower shop.

The twins, ever the distracted, decided to follow their younger sister into the shop.

An older man stood behind the counter, going through the till, wrapping coins into rolls and putting old receipts in a box. Behind him, there was a woman arranging a bouquet of roses and baby's breath.

There was soft music playing in the shop and when the bell above the door rang, both the man and woman turned to look at Ginny, then the twins behind her.

“Hello!” The woman perked up at the shoppers, “What may I do for you all today?”

“Just looking around, ma’am,” Ginny spoke as she looked around the shop.

There were vines crawling down the walls, lavender in bunches hanging from the ceiling, drying out. It seemed as though flowers were being grown in the shop itself, rather than another field somewhere.

A younger girl, probably around the twin’s age, came from the back of the shop, flowers braided into her hair as well as pinned on to her apron.

Fred had followed Ginny over to the window display, where she saw the daffodils, and George had been taking in the spectacular shop. The girl who had come from the backroom looked at George for a moment, recognizing him from somewhere.

“Do you go to Hogwarts?” She asked him, jumping him out of his trance. He nodded, “Me too! What year are you?”

“Going into Third, you?” He asked, unconsciously straightening his sweater.

“Going to Third, as well,”

She has such a pretty smile, George thought to himself as he stared at her face, which had to be made by the gods.

“So why’re you here?” She asked kindly, to which he jabbed his thumb over to Ginny and Fred.

“Sister came in ‘cause she thought the flowers in the window were pretty.”

“Cool, cool,” She nodded. “So what’s your name?”

“George,” he smiled, then nodded over to his siblings, “That’s Fred and Ginny.”

“Well, my name’s Y/n. What house are you in?”

“Gryffindor,” He held himself up a little straighter, as if being a Gryffindor was the greatest accomplishment. “What house are you?”

“Slytherin,” She smiled and he felt his brain hurt after her statement.

She was so kind and sweet and if he had to guess, he would have said Hufflepuff, or maybe Ravenclaw, but not Slytherin.

“Right, well,” He didn’t know what to say, how were you supposed to react to that?

Luckily, he didn’t need to respond, as Fred had called him to leave the shop and go back to school shopping.

“I’ll see you at school!” Y/n yelled to him as he walked out, but she didn’t get a response.

“Make another friend, Bug?” Her dad asked sweetly.

“Probably not,” She smiled the best she could.

While walking away from the shop, Fred noticed that George seemed out of it, he wasn’t laughing along with them.

“What’s up?”

“The girl in there, she was sweet, right?”

“Seemed it,” Fred commented, “You were all blushy around her,”

“She’s a Slytherin,”

“Ooh, bad luck,” Fred said, then the conversation was dropped.

He tried not to think about her.

He didn’t think about her smile and how she seemed so inviting. He didn’t think about the pretty red flowers she had in her hair. He didn’t think about how she had dirt all over her apron and clothes, but still looked absolutely stunning.

He most definitely didn’t think about how in her element she looked in the shop, like there was no other place in the world where she felt so at home.

It wasn’t until they were back in school that he saw her again. But it took a few weeks into the term for them to talk, since they hadn’t been alone.

They talked for the first time when McGonagall had to separate Fred and George, so she stuck George next to Y/n.

She smiled at him, and he smiled back, but seemed tense and reluctant when doing so.

She tried to start conversations, and he talked along, hesitant at first, but ultimately relaxed as she went on about her day, or a story from when she was younger, and he would respond with a childhood story of his own.

And thus began the wondrous friendship between a Goofy Gryffindor and a Sweet Slytherin.

Every once and awhile, she’d sit with the twins at dinners or breakfasts, which got her weird looks the first few times, though people were used to it by the fifth time.

With the years following, they only ever got closer.

She comforted him in their fourth year when his sister, Ginny, had gone missing during the Basilisk attacks.

He wouldn’t leave her side when word of Sirius Black being near the castle was going around.

When he and his family had gotten tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, she’d been invited, being close with the twins and all.

Molly instantly took a liking to her, especially because she showed up with a bouquet of Our Molly Roses Y/n had made as a thank you.

When the attacks happened the night after, George refused to let her out of his sight, insisting that she preceded him while running to the forest.

He’d become a bit more protective after that, not letting her out of his sight when he could help it.

During their sixth year, when he and Fred tried to get past the age line, she was the first to laugh. That year, she also became closer with Ron, Harry, and Hermione.

Ron was a little twerp and Harry had so much anxiety she wasn’t sure how he was still alive. Hermione, however, became a good friend to Y/n. She looked up to her as an older sister, which made Y/n want to cry, being an only child and all.

But as the Yule Ball approached, Y/n was being asked left and right, given her kindness and beauty wooed most of the boys, and some girls, at Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang alike.

George instantly felt inferior compared to all the others attempting to coerce her into being their date. He felt he had an advantage, however, given she’d said no to every person who’d asked her so far, and he was her best friend.

When he’d finally gotten the courage to ask, a mere week before the dance, they’d been laying on a hill far from the castle, watching the sun rise early in the morning.

She was the only person to make him wake up at the ass-crack of dawn to watch a measly sunrise.

She was threading flowers around themselves, fashioning a ring of yellow and green as she picked them from around where they lay.

While she was focusing on her flower crown, peeking up at the vibrant sunrise every once and awhile, George couldn’t take his eyes off of her beautiful side-profile.

He admired the way the new sunlight made her face a beautiful golden shade and enhanced each curve and point of her face.

“Stop staring, Weasley,” She said with a smirk as she continued her ring of daisies.

“Wasn’t staring, L/n,”

“Don’t lie,” she chuckled as she began to wrap the first daisy around the last, officially making the circle.

“That’s a wonderful flower crown you’ve made there,”

“Yeah, I’m giving it to the most amazing person I know,”

The way she looked into his eyes made his heart falter for a moment. He felt like she could see into his soul, like she knew what he wanted to ask her.

However, she proceeded to place the daisy crown onto her own head, straightening it as she kept eye contact with George, who let out a loud snort.

“Of course,” He said through giggles, eventually laying back onto the grassy hill, her body following after his once the crown was secure on her head.

“I mean, could you think of anyone better?”

“Never,” He smiled as he tilted his head to stare at her. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Course,” She smiled, “But if you want the crown you’ll have to fight me for it,”

“Oh, I’d never steal your crown, your highness,”

“Ooh, I like that. You should always call me ‘your highness,’” She smirked wickedly, but her eyes were filled with pure joy. “So what’d you wanna ask?”

He scratched his head, pushing his hair out of his face. “I know you’ve been asked by just about everyone, and said no, but would you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?”

“Yes,”

“That was quick,” He grinned at her immediate response.

“Well I’ve been waiting for months,” She rolled her eyes. “All those other people just wanted to go with me to say they went with me, but if I went with you, then it would really mean something.”

“You mean a lot to me,”

“Same here,”

They laid there, in their chunky sweaters and pajama pants, on that hill, until they could see kids walking to their first class of the day.

George and Y/n had the same first period class, so they leisurely walked to the greenhouses in their warm pajamas and none of their school supplies, to which they talked their way out of a detention with Sprout, and then got dressed and grabbed their stuff before going to their second period.

As the Yule Ball drew closer, Y/n became more and more frazzled.

The night of, she’d promised to help Hermione first, given she was going with Victor Krum, and therefore had to have the first dance. She’d done her hair and gotten mostly ready, apart from the dress and final details, then gone to prepare her little friend.

Y/n had done Hermione’s hair, which looked great, thank you very much, and helped her learn to walk in the heels she’d gotten, which was a lot harder than it needed to be.

About 20 minutes before Hermione needed to leave, Y/n had gotten her dress on, since it needed to be tied in the back, and gotten Hermione’s opinion on her hair and makeup.

Y/n then sent Hermione to the dance.

She was still making sure that her hair wouldn’t get too out of place and was fastening her shoes when she began to hear music from the Great Hall.

She was running so late.

She raced down as quick as she could in her heels, trying not to sweat too much as she got to the Great Hall.

Waiting until the first song finished, she pushed open the door and began searching for George, who was already staring at her in awe.

So was most of the hall.

Scurrying over to the ginger, she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.

“You look…” He let out a breathy sigh as he couldn’t find the words.

She had on a deep green ball gown that had a faint floral pattern on the skirt, shining in the lights. In her hair, just like the day they’d met, she had flowers braided into her hair, yellow ones this time, and they looked almost as beautiful as she did

“And you as well,” She chuckled as she took in his maroon, velvet robes that had lace detailing on the trim, though it looked really good on him, or maybe she was just biased.

“Shall we dance, your highness,” He bowed jokingly.

“Ahh, you remembered my real name, how nice,” She laughed as they went out to the dance floor, twirling around and smiling brighter than any other couple there, and drawing the most attention, too.

For good reason though, they gave hope to others that happiness bloomed from the heart, and despite scary times, love would grow endlessly.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george #weasley #weasley x reader #harry potter #yule ball #harry potter x reader #weasley twins x reader #george x reader #x reader

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nite-shay · 4 years ago

Text

Surprise! (Kirishima Eijirou x Reader)

Funny little idea I had. Reader finds out she is prego and wants to surprise her hubby with the news :)

A/N: Nothing really. Charters are aged up. Female pronouns used.

Hope you enjoy it and sorry for typos, grammar and spelling errors! :)

************

You were practically floating through your local market store's aisles, humming has you picked up items on your list.

Today was a beautiful day. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and nothing could ruin your mood.

Not even the grumpy old lady blocking our path, complaining to a stock boy about ketchup prices could bring you down!

Any why might you ask?

Because today you got the best news in the world.

A few days ago, you went to your local clinic. You'd been feeling rather tired here lately and even a bit nauseous. You honestly thought nothing of it and just figured you had a stomach bug that'd been going around.

Image your surprise when the nurse on the other end of the phone informed you that you were not sick, just pregnant.

It took a few seconds for the information to process, but the moment it does. Oh boy! You screamed and cried in pure joy to the poor, probably now partially deaf nurse on the other end.

After many thank yous and a few apologies, you practically hung up on the women wanting to call your husband imminently.

You tried him on his cell and on his desk, but he must have been out on patrol. Meaning you wouldn't hear from him until much much later in the day

Damn.

That burst your bubble, but that just gave a chance to be... well, creative in your news delivery method. You'd spent the last few hours researching and watching videos in the theme of 'Surprising the father baby announcements.'

And boy, oh boy, did you get some ideas! Too many ideas! But you settled on one method in particular.

You smiled as you made your way over to the produce section.

Ah-ha! There's an item on your shopping list.

You reached out and grabbed two bags of baby carrots before tossing them into your cart.

It would be a night your husband would never forget!

Later that night...

Let me start off by saying this. You love your husband. Very very much.

Your husband, Kirishima Eijirou, is the most wonderful man on the planet. He is an amazing and loving husband. He is also an amazing hero. Ranked one of the best in Japan and one of the friendliest. The man is a literal saint who against all odds befriended Bakugou for goodness sake! You love him more than life itself.

Your husband is a lot of things but currently, you can only think of one way to describe your husband. In the words of the blonde explosive best friend, 'he has rocks for brains'.

Bless your husband's heart some days, he can be denser than his skin in his unbreakable form.

You expected him to overlook some of the food you made, BUT NOT EVERY FUCKING THING!

You made a spread of baby-related foods that could give a buffet restaurant a run for their money. You had it all, baby carrots, baby spinach, baby artichokes, baby corn, baby back ribs, fingerling potatoes, a cornish hen, deviled eggs, popcorn shrimp, you had it all! Hell, you even dropped a 'bun in the oven reference'. Twice!

But did he see the pattern?

Nope!

His only response was to stare/drool at the food and said, 'wow hun, if I'd known you be making this much food, I'd have invited Amajiki and Togata over'. Later on, he commented on how Fatgum would be jealous of the amazing food he's going to have for lunch tomorrow'.

While you appreciate the comments on your cooking. You could have strangled at that moment.

Dense. Very dense.

You chanted in your head while he pigged out, 'I love the father of my child, and I will not beat him over the head with chicken' over and over for most of dinner.

As the night continued, you realized after watching both 'Boss Baby' and 'Storks' that you would have to take drastic measures to get it through his thick skull.

Tomorrow, you'd bring out the big guns!

Maybe you should get Mina involved…

The next day…

"Hey, Red! Wow, what's with all the food?" Fatgum shouted as he watched the redhead placed another container on the table.

"(Y/N) went overboard last night and made a feast! We had a lot of leftovers, so I brought some of them in. Want some?"

"You bet I do! I love her cooking! You really lucked out!"

"Yeah, I did! I have no idea why she made so much food, but I'm ain't complaining!" He flagged over Amajiki, who just walked into the breakroom. "Hey, Amajiki! Join us!"

"T-thanks…." He shuffled over and eyed the spread of food on the table. "Um… Kirishima… was yesterday a special day or something for the two of you?"

"No, I don't th-WAIT" Kirishima had a moment of panic before checking his phone. "Nope. Our anniversary isn't for another few months, and her birthday was last month." He sighed in relief. "Man, Jiki, you can't do that to me. You bout gave me a heart attack." He took a bite of food. "Why'd ya ask anyways?"

"Well… it's just… this is a lot of food... And very...v-very… specific food that doesn't seem to go together, in a traditional sense…" The quiet man commented.

"What do ya mean?"

Fatgum took a second look at the food before his eyes went wide. "I-I think I see where you're going with this Sun.." He put down his bowl while his redhead appearance just looked cluelessly between the two. "So Red, what happened last night?"

"Nothing really. I came home, and she made this awesome food, we ate, watched a few movies and then went to bed." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Did she say anything about her day, or did she seem like she wanted to talk to you about something?"

"No. I mean, she said she had an awesome day but didn't really say what was so awesome about it. She looked great! Like… I don't know, she just… had this.. glow? Yeah, that's the word. She just seemed to be glowing! I mean, I'm not saying she wasn't attractive before! She's drop-dead gorgeous, but I don't know, here recently she's just been…. Wow…" Kirishima's features softened as he thought of his wife while Fat and Amajiki looked at each other. The older man's eyes lit up while the younger dark hair man gave a half-smile.

"H-has she been feeling ok?" Amajiki pressed.

"Yea-" He paused for a moment. "Well, she did say she wasn't feeling too good the other day and that she went to the doctor... She didn't say what they said, though.." He crossed his arms while he thought back. "Now that I think about it, she really didn't eat much last night, and I could have sworn I heard her throwing up this morning... But she just brushed it off when I asked about it…"

"Did she say what she thought was w-wrong?"

"No, she didn't. I even asked her if she wanted me to stay home with her today, but she said she'd be fine. She did promise me she'd take it easy." He almost jumped up. "You guys don't think she's getting sick, do you? I know there's been a stomach bug going around…"

"Oh, it sounds like she got bitten by a bug, alright!" Fat couldn't keep it in any longer as he gave the redhead a wide smile.

"Seriously? What do we do? Wouldn't the doctors have found out if she did? Do you think it was poisonous?!?!" Kirishima jumped up like he was ready to take off back home to tend to his 'sick' wife.

"Easy Red." Fat roared with laughter. "She'll be fine, but she's going to be feeling the effects of this for the next…. I'd say nine-ish months…."

"Huh?"

"Kirishima, I think you r-really need to go home and talk to your wife…" Amajiki interjected while Fat wiped the tears from his eyes, trying to control his laughter. Which he was failing at btw.

"Come on, guys! I'm freaking out here! Is (Y/N) ok?" The hero pleased with them trying to get a straight answer.

"Eijirou?" Every head in the room twisted in your direction as you stood in the doorway.

"(Y/N)! You're here! Are you ok? You haven't seen any weird spiders or anything around, right?" Kirishima rushed over to you as you made your way into the breakroom. You'd heard Fatgum laughing from down the hall and figured your husband was too far away.

"Spiders? Wait, what?"

"Fatgum thinks you might have been bitten by a bug! How are you feeling? Do you need a doctor?"

"Honey. Sweetie. I'm fine, I've already talked to the doctor." You chuckled as you tried to soothe your frazzled husband.

"You have? That's great! What did they say?"

"Well…" You trailed off. This wasn't going as planned. Your plan was to visit him in his office and surprise him with the little gift bag in your hand; from there, you hopped, he'd get the picture. The top item was a cute little 'I'm a riot' Red Riot baby onesie you in the merch store down the street. The next was a mini-set of red baby crocs. If he didn't get it at that point across, your last resort was the medical report from the doctor's office, showing that you were, in fact, pregnant. You made sure to highlight it, just to be safe.

"I'm afraid you're just going to have to be blunt about it (Y/N). He's really not getting it. Congratulations btw the way!" Fatgum was chuckling slightly still as he scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"S-sorry if we mess anything up…" Amajiki mumbled apologetically.

"Thanks! And don't worry about Amajiki, it's fine! This works out better anyway!" You smiled over at the two before turning your attention back to the love of your life.

"Congratulations? Wait, what don't I get? Babe, please tell me what's going on". The worry in his eyes nearly broke your heart.

"Honey" You grabbed his face with both hands and made him look you right in the eyes. "I'm pregnant."

His body stilled, and his eyes were wide. He just stood there staring at you for the longest time; you swear you could almost see the little hamster in his head go flying off its wheel and pinball around his skull.

"Eiji? Did you hear me?" No response. He didn't even seem to be breathing. "I think I might have broken him." You glanced over to the older man in yellow before returning to those crimson orbs.

You were honestly starting to get worried at this point. Was he just shocked? Was he happy... or... did he not want it? Finally, though, he seems to come back to his senses.

Blink. Blink Blink. Deep breath in. Blink. Blink. Deep breath out.

"Y-Your…..preg...p-pregnant….."

"Yes. I'm pregnant." You choked a little up as it finally seemed to sink into that thick lovable skull of his. However, his expression didn't waver, and you still couldn't tell whether he was happy or not.

"I'm… going to be a dad?" You could feel him start to tremble beneath your hands.

On no.. he doesn't...

Your eyes started to water, but you try to keep your smile in place. "Y-yes. You are..".

"I'm going to be a… dad?" It was taking everything you had not to break down then and there

But then.. it happened.

You watched as his face lit up with the biggest grin you had ever seen. His eyes glistened with tears until they streamed down his cheeks. "I'M GOING TO BE A DAD!!!!" Your pretty everyone on the whole floor heard his declaration, and before you knew it, you were being dragged into a tight hug and swung around the room.

For the next hour, the two of you laughed, cried, and went around the ENTIRE building so your husband could tell everyone the news. Afterward, you showed him your little gifts, and that caused another trip around the building so he could show off the baby items and, much to your embarrassment, the test results.

Fatgum quickly realized that nothing else on the planet would get the red headed hero to focus on work right now, so he let him have the day off to celebrate.

After a round of visiting and phone calls to friends and family, the two of you were finally home. The moment the two of you were in your home, he pulled you to your bedroom for the most intense cuddle section you had ever had.

"I'm... going to be a dad…" He whispered while gently rubbing your belly where.

"Yes. Yes, you are." You couldn't help but grin and give him a slow sweet kiss, which he gladly returned.

"God, I love you so much…"

"I love you too. "

"Promise me one thing…" Suddenly his gaze narrowed as he looked you in the eyes with a serious expression.

"Anything…" You shifted, a little nervous in his abrupt mood change.

"If... If.." He swallowed hard.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Now you were worried.

"If I'm ever that stupidly dense again, please, PLEASE, knock some sense into me!" You burst into a fit of laughter while he just pokes his lip out in a pout. "I'm serious! Get someone, anyone to knock me into next week! Tetsu, Bakugou, Hell call Midoriya! After everything I missed, I deserve a Detroit smash upside the head!"

Thanks for the read! If you want see the other stuff I’ve done, click the link bellow!

MasterList

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha reader insert #mha reader insert #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #eijirou x reader #bnha x you #mha x you #BNHA Headcanons #bnha imagines #mha headcanons #mha imagines #kirishima eijiro imagine #Kirishima Eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou imagine #kirishima eijirou headcanons #bnha kirishima x reader

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cassiecasyl · 4 years ago

Text

I bit off more than I could chew when I looked closer

Day 2 of @starrynightdeancas‘s spn content creator event!! For today’s prompt, AUs, I decided to try my hand on an AU that has been in my head for months.

This is meant as an introductionary piece to the concept/idea of the AU, and thus I expected it to be relatively short, like around 500 words. I ended up with over double that amount. Whoops?

this AU is based on the MV of Obey by Bring Me The Horizon & YUNGBLUD ship: Destiel additional tags: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Mecha, Dystopia, Brainwashed Castiel, Memory Loss, Flashbacks read on ao3

Castiel maneuvered his suit through the city, the metal feet stomping heavily on concrete, but he was careful not to hit any cars. The people knew to avoid him and evacuate the streets he walked through, and it was rare that he had to stop so he wouldn’t cause a fatal accident. He was proud to be the angel with least civilian casualties.

It wasn’t often they patrolled through inhabited areas anyway. But ever since Micheal lost his sword as he lovingly called his suit - a name Castiel never really got -, heaven was worried. They suspected it to have been stolen by the resistance, which would give them a fighting chance. Outwards, they remained calm of course, but Castiel noticed the stress his superiors were under.

The whispered rumors that became loud enough to reach heaven’s ears only added to this. The Kingslayer would return, they said. It was an old legend, and Naomi put it down to simple propaganda of the resistance, but Castiel couldn’t help but feel like something was happening.

Castiel let his eyes wander from his view over the city through the glass wall of a skyscraper next to him. Momentarily, he was entranced by the humans bustling through the busy office, so caught up in their own lives. It always fascinated him how different they were. Yet, they shared the same burden of heaven’s cross on their shoulder. Castiel shook his head to shy the blasphemous thoughts away. Heaven was a blessing, he reminded himself. A human spotted him from where they were standing in the office and waved at the angel with a big grin. He nodded to himself. They were happy. No need to worry.

Just as he raised the suit’s heavy hand to awkwardly wave back, there was a familiar clank behind him. He frowned. It was characteristic for fledgling’s to cause this noise while walking, being not as used to their suits yet, but he was sure he’d have heard about it if the Academy had a field day in his sector. As far as he knew, the graduation class was far from that point, especially in the current state of things. Though he wasn’t exactly close to any other sector, he prepared for a familiar face.

The suit in front of him was nothing like he’d ever seen. Its metal was more brown than the usual gold of angel armor, whether it was due to dirt, rust, or something completely different, Castiel couldn’t tell. The iconic silver of Michael’s elite group shimmered through in some places, sending dread down his nervous system. It was a perfect patchwork, wistfully constructed despite the differing materials. Above its green-tainted eyes, it bore the symbol of the resistance - a star within a sun - instead of the usual cross of the angels.

He couldn’t remember the last time the resistance dared to show their face. Still, there was something about it that seemed so awfully familiar. Castiel couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew this face. But how?

“Castiel, do you copy?” Uriel’s voice buzzed through the intercoms, breaking him out of his thoughts. Quickly, he pressed the button that allowed him to speak.

“I do,” he answered. His finger lingered on the button for a minute, but eventually, he let it go without further words. Why didn’t he say anything? He was right in front of him. They could catch him and rid the resistance of the suit and maybe even an important member. Why did he remain quiet?

“We’ve got bad news that the resistance got a suit somewhere in the area. Have you seen anything?” Uriel continued and Castiel let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. All would be good.

“I have,” he said, anxiety still trying to catch his tongue. Where did he know this face from? “In fact, I’ve got contact. It’s standing right in front of me.” He regarded the suit before him once again, giving it an once-over and halting at its green eyes.

“Good. Stay there,” Uriel instructed, “We’re-”

Suddenly, a ray of sunshine blinked through the grey sky and landed on hills of green. His opponents eyes gleamed mischievously, and he tilted his head as if he had winked at him. It was unreal.

“What’s the word, Cas?” the man asked as he approached, an easy grin on his lips. Castiel turned around, letting it warm his freezing body. The sunlight transformed his eyes into a breath-takingly beautiful mossy green, and all he wanted was to get lost in it, while they slowly indulged in secret kisses. He blinked.

“It’s a shortened version of my name,” he deadpanned, delighted in the annoyed eye-roll he got in response. He knew this man. The image of a patchwork suit flashed before his eyes, but it was gone as soon as it appeared.

“You know what I mean,” he chuckled. The warmth in their faces was more than the sunlight shining down on them as they sat on the outpost. Castiel drank it in like a flower that’s been trapped in the dark, like Dean was the sun freeing him from winter. Dean. Who the hell was Dean?

“All quiet,” he answered, only going along with the script being laid on his tongue. He didn’t know what was going on. The man, Dean, nodded.

“Castiel. Do you copy?” Naomi’s voice trilled through him, reaching him in whatever dream he was caught. He frowned in fear. When had Naomi come here? When had the voice changed from Uriel to her?

“I copy,” he answered, his voice weirdly shaky. A tear rolled down his cheek and he shook his head to get rid of it. He didn’t want to cry. Not with his superiors on the coms and heaven counting on him. What was even happening to him? The resistance’s suit was still standing there in front of him, unmoving, and somewhere in his mind Castiel registered it as odd.

“Do you still have contact?” If she was relieved about Castiel’s answer, she didn’t express it.

“I do.”

“Initiate combat,” Naomi ordered sternly, leaving no place for arguments. Castiel nodded, more to himself, looking down at the controls. He knew what to do. Then why couldn’t he move?

“Attack him, Castiel,” she clarified. He could sense the edge in her voice sharpening. But, he couldn’t. What if it was Dean? He thought back at the warmth he felt there. No, he shook his head. Dean didn’t mean anything.

“Castiel.” The command cut through the air, frazzled by the coms. His breaths came out in short, panicked gasps, his brain short-circuiting while he still couldn’t bring himself to move. What was happening?

Dean. The word had such a familiarity to it. It was family. Warmth. Love. He blinked, trying to grasp the definition of the word.

“Fight him, Castiel. Kill him if you must.” Naomi was losing patience fast.

I won’t hurt Dean Winchester. The phrase tasted strangely like a deja-vu on his tongue, but he couldn’t fathom why. He never had reason to say them, did he? Why would he? Dean was nobody, a fragment of his imagination. He didn’t exist as far as he knew.

“Raphael is on her way to you, but if you won’t fight, you’ll be in major trouble,” Naomi warned. Castiel shuddered as pain stabbed into his temples alongside the words. He wanted to scream. Instead, he nodded.

We saved you, Castiel. Don’t you want to compensate us for the trouble we went through? He remembered Naomi saying so long ago when she asked him to become an angel. Though he couldn’t remember where they rescued him from - Naomi had explained that the memory loss was a trauma response - he knew it was true.

Finally, he answered, “Initiating combat.”

Please let me know if you want to read more of this AU!! I’d be more than happy to return to it!

tag list: @aniridescentdreamer @nightmare-in-plaid @gnbrules @luciferstempest @castiel-for-lunch

#dailydestieldelights #destiel #destiel AU #deancas #obey #bring me the horizon #yungblud #science fiction #mecha #this was so hard to tag on ao3 #not me writing this all afternoon instead of working on uni stuff

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

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Humans are Space Orcs, “Compromised Earth.”

Sorry guys, I was super exhausted today, and my brain wasn’t thinking up anything else it wanted to write. I will try to get out some now and inventive ideas in the next week, but today you get another recovery continuation since that is what my brain wanted to write lol

I hope you still like and have a great day :)

His entire body hurt,

Not like it had before, obviously, more of a dull ache, the kind that comes after a day of really hard physical training after years of inactivity, but in that case, it still meant he was having trouble moving. He lay on his bed, in his quarters propped up by an ungodly amount of pillows. He honestly wasn’t entirely sure where Sunny had found them all only to assume that she had probably gone around stealing them from people.

If that was the case, at least no one said anything.

Aside from that, she had gone out of her way to assign someone to watch him when she couldn't be there. He was still experiencing some withdrawal symptoms,and she was unreasonably worried that something would happen with his health.

Katie, Krill, Ramirez, Mav, and a few others were taking it in shifts to watch him. He was sure if he was a little less of an extrovert, he would have hated it, but honestly the company was a comfort and it helped him to sleep easier knowing someone was there.

Ramirez was there now playing something on a vintage handheld gaming system of some sort cursing under his breath occasionally when things didn’t go his way. He looked up in concern, probably worried that he had disturbed the Commander’s sleep, though Adam was honestly fine, drifting in and out and in and out as the occasion called for it.

Recovery was slow and painful, and those some had suggested it, he refused meds to dull the pain.

He could already feel the hinted prod of long dormant cravings and so refused any and all painkillers knowing that, if he gave in once, he would be more likely to do it, again, and again, and again.

At least now he could stand, though only for short periods of time. Long enough to get up to go to the bathroom and take very short, hot showers, though both activities tended to leave him absolutely exhausted.

The Spiderlings had visited him earlier in the day babysat by Waffles and Dr. Katie, The had been very excited to see him, and he in return, though he had only been able to manage their presence for a short amount of time before being forced to send them off too tired to keep his eyes open.

He was just drifting off to sleep again when a commotion outside the door startled him awake. Ramirez stood form his seat a concerned expression on his face, setting his handheld down on the chair behind him and walking over to the door.

“What is it?”’

Ramirez shook his head and held up a hand, “Just let me check it out.” The door hissed open and then shut filling the room with a swelling of voices for a short moment.

“He's resting!”

He sat up recognizing sunny’s angered voice.

“I know that, but this is urgen-”

The door was shut, and the sound of voices was cut off leaving only the distant humming of muffled words. He pushed himself higher up in his sitting position, eyes squeezing shut against the ache.

He leaned forward, but couldn’t make out what was being said.

The longer it went on the more impatient he got, before eventually throwing his legs over the side of the bed and slowly getting to his feet.

His back and legs screamed in protest, and the metal of the ship was cool beneath his feet as he limped on both legs, to the door. Despite having one mechanical leg, his body was in so much pain that it didn’t bother to relegate the agony to a single side. THe door hissed open, only for him to find Ramirez, Sunny and Waffles facing off against an official UNSC officer looking more than a bit frazzled by the hostility being projected by his two crewmen, and now the dog, who also seemed less than pleased about this turn of events.

As the door opened, they all turned to look at him.

What a sight he must have been, shirtless, and covered in bandages facing off against some pretty severe irritation from the Steel-Eye suit. The skin about his back, arms and chest was extremely inflamed and irritated, making his already haggard appearance even more so. The officer quickly solution, while the other two looked at him in concern coming to his side to make sure he was ok.

Ramirez offered him an arm, but he waved it off, “What is this all about?”

The officer nodded nervously, “I am so sorry to bother you commander, but there have been some developments in relation to the burg, and the UNSC is calling a meeting to deal with it. Not to mention there have been some…. Questions as to your methods during the last engagement that the brass would like to discuss. They understand that you are still recovering, but based on recent circumstances, we cannot put things off any longer.”

“Like hell you can’t” Sunny snarled

Adam held up a hand to her, “Let me get changed, and I will accompany you.”

Both Sunny and Ramirez sputtered in protest as the officer saluted, the two of them following him back into his rooms with arguments on their tongues.

He limped over to the closet doors, ignoring them as it hissed open, reaching in to grab out a white shirt.

“Adam, you can barely walk, the UNSC has no right to ask you to come in if you aren’t recovered.” Sunny seemed to be working herself up into a killing mood.

The threaded one of his arms through a sleeve, painstakingly pulling the shirt closed fingers fumbling with the buttons, “This is my job, Sunny, and I intend to do it.”

Ramirez held out his hands, “But Sir, I am sure there is some sort of compromise. Maybe they could project you in as a hologram, that way you wouldn’t need to use up all your strength.”

Adam turned to look at him, “As commander of the UNSC fleet, I hardly intend to give off an air of weakness to my superiors. I can walk, so I will go. Or I may at the very least, try.”

“And slow down your recovery.” Sunny interjected

“If that’s what I must do.”

“I get your loyalty, Adam, but sometimes I think you cave to unreasonable demands.” He had gotten the shirt on and had managed to pants as well, despite his screaming back.

Shoes were going to be a real bitch.

He pulled on his uniform jacket and plucked his hat from its spot atop a shelf stuffing it onto his head as his shoulders seemed to moan with the agony.

“My mind is made up.”

He bent down to retrieve his shoes, but was struck by an excessive bout of pain that seemed to radiate up his spine and into his limbs. His knuckles were white against the door-frame.

Ramirez hurried forward, helped him to stand and retrieved his pushing him back to sit on the edge of the bed. He sighed in relief feeling only mildly embarrassed as Ramirez knelt to help put on the shoes.

Sunny didn’t look pleased, but offered Ramirez the other shoe when he was done with the first.

Ramirez looked up, “We can’t change your mind?

Adam shook his head, “No.”

“Then we will accompany you. Make sure you don’t overwork yourself.” He glanced over at Sunny, “Right.”

She was clearly displeased, but nodded her bird-like head, “I will carry you if I must.” She glowered at him, “or if I feel like you are growing too stupid to take care of your own health.”

Her words tugged a half-hearted smile from him, “How sweet.”

He stood again, slowly helped to his feet by Ramirez, and together they stepped out of the room and off down the hall.

He tried to walk with a purpose, but after the first hallway he was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t been too hasty in his assessment of his own strength. His feet were like led boot encased in concrete, his back hurt horrendously, and his chest was feeling a little tight, though he kept that to himself.

Their pace had significantly slowed by the time he made it to cargo bay, And both Ramirez and Sunn were looking at him as if they expected him to collapse at any moment.

He was glad they were there for that eventuality for it was definitely seeming like an eventuality now. The officer was waiting for him, and upon seeing his face, the man’s eyes grew wide and his skin blanched.

Did he really look that bad?

“Are you alright, commander.”

“Yes, let's just get inside so I can sit down.” The man didn’t argue with him, hurrying onto the UNSC shuttle.

Climbing up that ramp might as well have been climbing up Everest, and the only relief was a seat waiting for him when they stepped on.

He took his seat to exhausted to even keep his eyes open.

Aware partially of Sunny and Ramirez buckling the harness around him before taking their own seats.

He fell asleep on the way in, or at least he thought he did, jostled awake when landing came.

It took everything he had to force his eyes back open and unstrap himself from the seat. Ramirez took his offered hand and pulled him to his feet.

His legs were so weak.

Light spilled in from the Shuttle doors, and together they stepped outside into the light of earth. He closed his eyes for the sun on his skin, which helped to make him feel just a little better.

“Commander.”

He looked up, surprised to find a good portion of the UNSC brass waiting for him at the base of the ramp.

His old captain , now Admiral Kelly being one of those.

She took one look at him and frowned immediately, “Are you alright, Commander.”

He limped down the ramp, “yes ma’am, I’m fine.”

“You look like shit…. And that’s me being diplomatic.”

He gave a weak smile as the others looked on in concern, “I'll be alright as long as we get somewhere where I can sit.”

“Then let's hurry and do that.” Admiral Kelly, grabbed him by the arm and steered him over to a waiting truck.

It felt like his knees were going to buckle but he managed to get in, with some help from Sunny.

He fell asleep again resting against Sunny’s shoulder shaken awake when the truck pulled to a stop in front of UNSC headquarters. There was a party waiting for them, and he was deeply regretting agreeing to this.

He climbed out of the Truck behind Sunny stumbling when his feet hit the pavement.

Ramirez grabbed him by the arm and helped him to stand.

A light trembled had started up in his body, and he felt as if he was going to collapse.

He was so dizzy, his legs were so weak.

The party came to meet with him, “We are sorry Commander, that this was such a bad time, but there have been some developments with the Burg, we required discussing with you immediately.”

He nodded, though only half understanding what they were saying.”

“You plan managed to foil the larger part of the attack, but it looks like a Tesraki agent, paid off by the other side managed to get into the Gromm city, and steal some of the warp codes to sell for a prophet. We can’t be sure, but earth might have been on that list.”

“That sure got his attention.”

“The Burg might have our warp codes.”

“Yes.”

“Did you contact the GA?”

“Immediately.”

“Good… hopefully they might help us get a Nexus up in time.” His feet were a hundred pounds each sliding towards 1000. The curb before him was a seven foot leap.

He stepped up and…. Made it, by the skin of his teeth.

He pulled the other foot up and paused on the edge of the curb staring straight forward.

“We have already begun construction-.”

They continued talking, and he heard himself respond a few times. The faces before him warped in and out of focus continuing to speak. He spoke, though he had no idea what he was saying.

His vision started to go white.

It honestly scared him.

He had passed out before, and his vision had gone black, but this time it started to go white washing everything of color as he stared forward. His ears rang and his head spun.

Before he knew it he was sitting on the ground.

“Get his head down, between his knees.” Someone was saying.

A hand rested on his back.

He was breathing hard, but every time he tried to lift his head, the world started to go white again.

So he stayed there, not sure for how long before, finally he was able to lift his head.

A group of very worried people and one Alien stood around him. Sunny knelt at his side, Ramirez at his other, and a couple of the Admirals in front of him, others standing behind.

“Sweet mother earth, commander, we thought you were having a stroke.”

“The paramedics are on their way.” Someone was saying

“Call them off.” He mumbled, “I’m ok, just a little lightheaded.”

“If we had known you were this sick, commander, we would never have asked you to come.”

“We tried to tell you that.” Sunny snapped, but Adam rested a hand on her arm.

“Relax Sunny, they had no way of knowing. Help me up.”

She hesitated.

“Help me up.” He ordered, and she did so only grudgingly. He was back on his feet now though he kept his head down worried the world would go white again.

“Do you need a doctor?’ someone was asking.

A bottle of water was pressed into one of his hands.

He took a drink letting the cool liquid slide down his throat, “I'm alright.’

I’m alright ended up amounting to almost passing out three more times before they made it to the ‘war room’ and that was before Sunny began ignoring his orders and simply carried him the rest of the way.

He would have been embarrassed, if he had the cognitive capacity to do so, and probably would have been embarrassed when the paramedics showed up to place and IV and look him over once they got there.

They offered medication.

He refused.

Still concerned at the little cravings hinting at the back of his mind.

But there were more important things to deal with than that, one of them being the Burg.

And their possible knowledge of earth’s location.

At least he had managed to save SOME planets

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clumsyclifford · 4 years ago

Note

if you're still taking prompts “i haven’t seen him smile like that in ages.” with emo lashton maybe? so perhaps emo lashton having a good day i guess 😅 i love them so much sorry if you want just change this to normal lashton 🙈 -fiancee

emo lashton having a GOOD DAY i think you’re messing with the entire natural order of the world fiancee i dont even think this is legally allowed but i tried my best for you. also this fic includes a secret shoutout to @reveriesofawriter & her long way home theory so.......yeah

The thing about feeling bad is that Ashton always forgets that it ends.

When it’s him, it’s so easy to lose sight of the light at the end of the tunnel in favor of shutting his eyes and drowning in the darkness of it, sinking as deep as he can go until the pit of his stomach reaches the floor, until the soles of his feet hit rock bottom. Under the heavy weight of bad days, bad weeks, it always slips Ashton’s mind that it won’t always be this dismal. There’s an all-encompassing fact to his depression, so that when it sinks its teeth in it swallows Ashton up whole, and he thinks this is it, there’s only this, it’ll be just like this for the rest of my life, and it’s in those times that Ashton wonders if he shouldn’t just maybe cut that timeline short.

But he has to grit his teeth and bear it, because that’s really not an option for him. So he shoulders his own weight, and then one day he finds himself cracking a smile at a funny joke, and the realization strikes like a hammer, that this is the end of the darkness, for now. The tunnel has finally opened up, and the sun is starting to shine again, and Ashton feels dizzy with freedom.

The feeling of floating after being bogged down by the absolute bitch that is depression is relieving, no doubt. But there’s nothing compared to watching Luke get that feeling.

Ashton recognizes the signs of a crash as soon as it happens. Normally maybe he wouldn’t, but he’s so attuned to Luke, these days especially, that when something shifts, Ashton feels it. It’s small at first, and gets worse; Luke doesn’t really talk when they have dinner, and then he just stops coming to dinner. Ashton sees him around the house less and less, and makes a habit of knocking on his bedroom door just to hear the monotonous, “Yeah,” just to be sure Luke’s still inside, breathing. There’s no use trying to prise Luke from his misery — Ashton knows how listless Luke can be, how heavy he must feel — and all Ashton can do is tap subtle reminders into the doorframe that he’s here, if Luke needs him.

(One way or another, Luke always needs him. Selfishly, Ashton is glad, because God knows he needs Luke more than is probably good for him, and this way it’s at least a two-way street.)

In the dark fog clouding the house, Ashton rigidly maintaining his role of caretaker, they both forget their plans.

“Alex.”

Alex's smile becomes tinged with uncertainty. “Ashton!”

“You’re at our house,” Ashton says slowly, racking his brain for a reason why.

Alex furrows his brow. He’s brought his guitar, Ashton notices, and it hits like a fucking freight train.

“Aren’t we writing?” Alex asks, and Ashton slaps his palm against his forehead.

“Fuck. Shit, we so are. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I totally forgot. I’m so sorry, man.”

Alex grins. “No problem. I’ve been there. You want me to go, or…?”

“No, no, you’re here already. Sorry. Come in.” Ashton glances behind him as Alex crosses the threshold and the door swings shut. Luke is in his room. Luke’s been in his room all day, and for most of yesterday too. Fuck. If he’d remembered he would have rescheduled with Alex, but now Alex is here, and Ashton likes to hang out with him even if they can’t get much done. Besides, Ashton likes writing with Alex.

It just feels wrong without Luke, but — whatever. Life has to go on.

“Let me just,” Ashton says, feeling frazzled. Alex laughs.

“You’re high-strung today,” he observes, and Ashton runs a hand through his hair, feeling kind of embarrassed.

“Yeah. Uh, maybe. Sorry. Let me grab Luke, um, if I can.” He bites his lip. “He might not want to…he’s kind of, um.” Ashton trails off, but Alex picks up the thread anyway, and nods soberly.

“It’s cool,” he says.

“I’ll just check,” Ashton says, and leaves Alex in the living room, setting up his guitar, while he disappears to the back of the house to drum his fingers against Luke’s door.

“Luke?”

Luke pulls the door open, and Ashton breathes a sigh of relief without meaning to. Luke’s in the cotton t-shirt and joggers that he sleeps in, and his hair is unruly. Ashton resists the urge to reach out and fix it, and then thinks fuck it and reaches out anyway. He’s missed seeing Luke. There are dark circles under his eyes, and if Ashton peers further into the room he can spy Luke’s laptop open on the bed and his songwriting notebook next to it.

Luke says, “Alex is here. I know, I heard.” He leans into Ashton’s touch when Ashton rearranges his hair, and Ashton leaves his hand cupping Luke’s crown even after he’s finished fixing it up.

“You wanna join us?” he offers quietly. “It’s fine if you don’t. Alex will —”

“No, I will,” Luke sighs. “I should.”

“Don’t do us any favors,” Ashton says, joking but also serious. “Honestly, Luke.”

“I’m coming,” Luke says firmly. He rubs his eyes with the heels of his palm — almost childishly, Ashton thinks — and says, “Give me a minute to, like.” He gestures vaguely, kind of towards himself.

“Okay,” Ashton says, because he knows too well how it feels to be babied when he’s set his mind to something, and it’s too frustrating for words. Luke is an adult. If he says he’s fine, Ashton has to trust that.

“He’s coming,” Ashton relays when he returns to the living room. Alex is sitting on the couch, messing around. Ashton gets snatches of familiar tunes, but Alex switches it up before he can put a name to them.

“Is everything okay?” Alex asks. Ashton shakes his head, smiling wryly.

“That’s the wrong question,” he says, and exhales loudly. “Everything will be okay. We’ll be fine.”

Alex gives a short nod. “I get it,” he says, and Ashton believes him.

Luke appears then, bundled up in a hoodie that once belonged to Ashton and the same joggers. “Hey,” he greets Alex, with a smile that doesn’t really reach his eyes. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries, man,” Alex says, hopping to his feet to pull Luke into a hug. Ashton half expects Luke to jerk away, but Luke sinks into it, and Alex maybe hugs him tighter than usual.

When they break apart, Alex says, “There’s something I want to show you guys, actually. I forgot I had this here, but — it’s all in my 5SOS book.”

“Your 5SOS book?” Ashton repeats, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Luke sits beside him, and Alex stares at them for a moment before shaking his head.

“You know I’m, like, a grown-up, right? I shouldn’t be forced to sit on the floor with you spry motherfuckers.” Despite this, he eases himself to the carpet, stretching his legs out next to Ashton’s knee. He retrieves a familiar notebook from inside his guitar case — Ashton recognizes it from past writing sessions. “My 5SOS notebook,” Alex explains, waving it at them. “Where I put all the stuff I write with you guys.”

“Aw, he has a notebook just for us,” Ashton coos, nudging Luke gently with his shoulder. Luke huffs a tired laugh.

“I’m organized,” Alex says pointedly. Ashton grins. “Anyway, I was looking through it when you went to get Luke, and it has all the stuff from our first writing sessions ever, remember that? Five hundred years ago, or something?”

“Something like that,” Luke says. Ashton rests a hand on Luke’s knee, almost unconsciously.

“Long Way Home,” Alex muses, and hands off the notebook to Ashton. “You almost made me cry with that one.”

“What?” Luke says dimly. The page is covered in scribbles, many of them crossed out, and it’s faded with time and wear. Still, Ashton can make out Alex’s messy handwriting — Long Way Home (?) across the top, and underneath, (love song to the boys).

“Not in a bad way,” Alex says. “It was just — I don’t know. It’s like watching your kid sibling enter high school. I’d already done it, and seeing you guys do it — I mean, I knew you’d be a smash. I wished I’d had someone telling me, you know, take it slow. You don’t need to grow up so fast.” Ashton studies the page, Luke peering over his shoulder at the words. REMEMBER: SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! it says under the song title, and immediately beneath that, no one let these boys grow up before they’re ready. “I know it’s your song, but I like to think of it as my song to you,” Alex says, and when Ashton looks up at him he’s grinning shamelessly, but there’s not a hint of insincerity on his face.

“You wrote this about us?” Luke repeats, incredulous, running his fingers over the page as reverently as if it were the Bible, instead of some ratty ten-year-old notebook.

“Kind of,” Alex says. “You wrote it about yourself. I just helped.”

“The bridge,” Ashton remembers. “We’re just taking it slow. You wrote that part. You fucking sneak.”

Luke shakes his head, and when Ashton turns to look he’s smiling. This one isn’t like the one from before; it goes far past his eyes, pulling up every part of his face, loosening muscles that have probably been stagnating for weeks.

“I just thought you might want to know,” Alex says. “I played it for the band — mine, I mean — and the moment they heard it, they knew. But, you know. We get it. We got it then, and we get it now.” A hint of timidity now curves itself into Alex’s smile. It’s not a familiar look. “I don’t think you really did take it slow, actually. Ignored your own music and shot straight to fame, but whatever, it’s none of my business.”

Luke actually laughs. The sound goes straight to Ashton’s heart, gives it wings, eases an ache he hadn’t even really known he’d had, and the energy of the room shifts. Ashton thinks maybe he’s the only one who feels it, but it’s definitely different.

“We’re taking it slow now,” Luke offers, sweeping a hand around the room. The other hand settles on top of Ashton’s, on his knee. Unthinkingly, Ashton flips his palm up, threading their fingers together. “Just took us some time to realize we needed it.”

“Well, better late than never.”

“Yeah,” Luke says. It seems mostly to himself.

“So,” Ashton says. “Not that that wasn’t super sentimental, and I will be needing photos to send to Mike and Calum, but I feel like we should maybe try to write?”

“Yeah, okay. Give it back.” Alex snatches his notebook back, flips to a blank page, pulls out a pencil.

“Let me grab my guitar,” Luke says, and pushes himself to his feet, abruptly severing the connection between their hands. Alex’s eyes travel around the room, but Luke’s guitar is missing from its usual spot on the wall.

“It’s in his room,” Ashton explains. Luke drags his fingers across Ashton’s scalp as he leaves, a tingling trail in their wake.

“He’s been pretty bad, huh,” Alex says in a low voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so…”

“Listless?” Ashton suggests bitterly. “I know. He’s been bad. But that was good. I haven’t seen him smile like that in ages.”

Alex shakes his head. “I was so worried that this would happen to you,” he says. His tone is almost mournful. “Maybe I should have done something more, I just thought —”

“Dude, stop,” Ashton says. “There’s really no point. You’re not responsible for us. As much as you probably wish you were. We made these decisions, and this is our life. It’s not all bad. It’s not even mostly bad.” At Alex’s skeptical expression, Ashton rectifies, “It’s usually better. You caught us at a rough time.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex says.

“Don’t be sorry. Fuck, man, just don’t be sorry for anything.” It’s pointless, is the thing, and Ashton had meant what he said. Alex isn’t responsible for their growing up. Nobody is but themselves, and — and despite everything, despite the burning, piercing anguish that sometimes balloons in his chest, threatening to drown him, if he could go back he wouldn’t really change anything. There are downs, and they are low; but there are also ups, and those are too high to surrender. Ashton knows he’s lucky. If he’s going to be depressed, he may as well be doing the job of his dreams.

“I’m smarter than you, you know,” Alex says, with a hint of a mocking smile teasing at his lips. “And so much older.”

“More susceptible to damage, you mean. Let’s see you crowdsurf nowadays, grandpa.”

“I’m seriously gonna fucking poison you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I know where you live, you —”

“That’s nothing, I could gather your whole band —”

“Just because your band fucked off to Australia —”

“Alright, lads,” Luke interjects, returning with his guitar and the notebook Ashton had seen on his bed. “Enough fighting over me. I assume that’s what was happening.”

“If it was, I think I was winning,” Alex says immediately.

“Doubt it,” Luke says. “Not likely to leave Ashton that easily, am I?”

Alex inclines his head. He knows when he’s been beaten, evidently. “I surrender,” he says.

Ashton looks at Luke, and Luke is deliberately not looking at him, pink staining his cheeks. But the corners of his mouth are tugging themselves unwillingly into a smile, and Ashton breathes out and resists the urge to kiss Luke’s cheek, because he can see the sun coming out, finally, and it’s going to be a beautiful fucking day from here on out.

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prescription-ten · 4 years ago

Text

Touch Starved - Hwang Hyunjin

[ I don’t own the GIF]

Title: Touch Starved

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem reader

Word Count: 2.3K

Genre: fluff, soulmate AU

Warnings: no warnings, this was written last minute though, sorry if i missed anything in editing. mentions of hearing and sight impaired people. otherwise enjoy.

Tag: @vitaminhyunjin i hope you like this

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

Last night I dreamt I was with him again. I am still not sure what he looks like, but I can feel the warmth of the sun, and the morning dew that has settled on the grass soak into my clothes. But most importantly, I can feel his head on my lap, his hand over my knee and I can feel his hair between my fingers.

I can make out the shape of his body in my head, along with the sound of his breath as if his mouth rests against my collarbone, or perhaps the side of my jaw. Either way, the feeling of his spirit kindles with mine and it blooms and even though I cannot see colour yet, I know that together we would create a beautiful symphony of sound and colour.

So, when I wake, and I feel my hands under my pillow and the sheets wrapped around my legs, I can’t help but feel as if my side is now cold, as if he truly was here with me. I stretch my limbs, arching my spine and spreading my toes and fingers until I hear a resounding crack before slowly sitting up.

The rest of the morning would go by uneventfully, my coffee was per usual, shower – short and sweet. By the time I was ready, it was almost eleven am so I began heading to a café around the block which had become one of my favourite spots since moving to a new city, a new country in fact. I had moved from my home country all the way to Seoul, South Korea for an incredible job opportunity. For years, I studied sign language and teaching and wanted to go into work with deaf children, teens, and adults, and I had done just that.

I loved my job, I loved the kids I worked with and I loved seeing the shine in their eyes as they learn new signs, as some of them get their first sets of hearing aids, or as some graduate from my classes. It brings along an amazing feeling, knowing that I have made an impact and helped in some way.

For some of the older ones, I had become friends with and still speak to them to this day. Many of them had told me about their job opportunities, families, and soulmates.

As a society, we have monetised a life well-lived by the discovery of our soulmates. Each of us have one, some find them early in life, and some much later, but we always find them. Today, I turn twenty-two. Every one of my friends and family had found their soulmates by twenty, so it’s a little easy to say that I have waited longer than most people I’ve ever known. The latest discovery I had heard of was from one of my students, who had told me their sibling had not found their soulmate until they turned thirty-one. All of us would stay colour-blind until we found our soulmate and when our soulmate died, we would be left in a world colour-blind excluding our soulmates favourite colour. Quite morbid in all honesty.

I dearly hope I do not have for him as long as their sibling had to wait.

The coffee shop was more quiet than usual and some bleak light shone through the windows, illuminating almost all of the booths and half of the tables scattered throughout the room. I approached the counter and purchased an americano and a ham and cheese croissant. I almost stayed inside the café but after glancing around at the empty space, I decided to walk to the park, finding a bench mostly untouched by sunlight. I stayed there for numerous hours before heading home.

Hours went by before my head hit the pillow again and I hoped dearly I would b able to visit him again.

But I did not get to meet him for another week, each time my head hit the pillow, I dreamt of nothing and woke up more restless than the previous night. After a week, coffee had become the one thing helping me throughout the day as I struggled to stay focused or awake no matter how much I slept. After the seventh day, I began to feel the fatigue even more-so than usual, and religiously headed to the café around the corner from my apartment. Luckily there wasn’t a line up and the staff recognised me and put through my usual and feeling dizzy, I sat down in a booth, I didn’t want to risk heading to the park and risk fainting where I might not be found for a long period of time.

My brain was feeling a little frazzled, my eyesight felt off and I could not understand why, but as I sat there trying to process everything happening and focus, I noticed that my eyesight was clearing up, some colours coming through so briefly I barely noticed. I began to stare at the menu, watching the muted greys and blacks turn into colours I hadn’t been able to see before. He was so close to me. I looked up; my eyes wide as the colours grew bolder. He must be so close, just out of reach. I sat on the edge of my seat, feeling some sweat appear near my lower back, I hope I don’t smell bad. I must look terrible; I wasn’t prepared to meet him yet when I looked like a casual disaster.

I became very aware of the bags under my eyes, of the hoodie that I wore which was neither a name brand nor that flattering in all honesty. But the colours didn’t feign at all yet. Surely if the universe decided that this was the time, a silly hoodie wouldn’t ruin it.

I heard the chime of the little bell at the front of the café and my head swung around to face it. The instant my eyes locked with his face, I felt my vision go blurry before clearing again and suddenly I could see him in full colour. In came a young man with dark hair that looked like it sat below his chin, it was nicely tied back with some framing his face. He was wearing jeans and a hoodie as well and I decided that it was my favourite colour on him, even if I didn’t know what colour it was. In hand he carried a cane which was tethered to his wrist and it was then with shock that I realised he must have been blind or sight impaired.

“Hi Hyunjin!” The male staff member called from the counter, “Would you like an americano again?”

Hyunjin smiled, cautiously heading for the counter, “Yes please, Max. How have things been this week?”

“They’ve been alright, it’s been a bit slow recently but all of our regulars are still coming in which keeps us busy still.”

“That’s good to hear, do you mind walking me to that booth I like?” He was so polite.

“Yeah, I can do that for you, I’ve also charged the drink through your loyalty card, this one is free.”

“Thank you, Max,”

“It’s seriously no problem, you know you’re one of our favourites so we will always treat you well.”

I watched as Max walked Hyunjin to the booth two down from my own, and Max seemed to notice my gaze locked to Hyunjin and he stopped by my booth on the way past, “Is everything alright, miss?”

“That… That young man, does he come in very often?”

“Yes, miss… Why do you ask?” Max seemed very confused.

“I’ve just never seen him in here before… but seeing him today brought colour into my life… Do you think he would mind if I approached him?” I couldn’t help but stammer a little, trying to explain my strange behaviour.

Max’s eyes seemed to pop out of his skull, “Wait, miss really? Well! Of course! He wouldn’t mind at all! You should definitely go and introduce yourself.”

I nodded, my vision going back to Hyunjin who currently had his eyes closed and face towards the sunlight. I stood from the booth as Max hurried back to his station and I felt the nerves kick in two-fold as I took a deep breath.

I made my way to his table, I gulped and finally spoke, “Uh… Hello? My name is Y/N, would you mind if I sat with you?”

He turned to face me, his gaze went straight through me and it gave me chills, “Oh hello! I’m Hyunjin and of course, go ahead.”

He did seem a little confused by my strange offer so I spoke up, “I’m sorry to come out of nowhere I just… Well I was sitting a couple of booths down and I saw you walk in and…” I felt so tongue tied.

Hyunjin smiled sweetly, “It’s alright, take your time, love.”

My heart fluttered, “Well, I saw you walk in and I’ve been feeling fatigued all week and today I was going through something I’ve never gone through before, and when you walked in and I saw you, I saw colour for the first time in my life.”

Hyunjin sat there quietly for a few moments before he spoke up. “You’re being truthful?”

I was a little shocked by the question, “I--… Yes. I am.”

He smiled again, “Well, I’m almost completely blind, but I can see light when it’s bright enough. I’ve dreamt of my soulmate for many years, trying to remember the sensation and the feel of them… May I touch you?”

I stayed quiet, looking at his beautiful smile, “Yes.”

He slid his hands across the table, and I met him halfway. His fingertips were incredibly warm in my palms, I heard his quick intake of breath and prayed it was a good sign. His hands moved very slowly in my own as he felt each crevice, he touched my fingernails and followed all of their ridges before moving over my knuckles; from there his hands wrapped around my wrist, his hands were big enough that his fingers easily touched each other. He moved up my forearms, he was now leaning over the booth table, trying to get further.

“Would this be easier if I came closer?” I asked, hesitant.

He paused, “… If you’re comfortable, that would be helpful.”

He started to pull away, but I held onto one of his hands and gently held it as I stood and moved around the table, I watched some red flush cover his cheeks and he slid over so there was more room next to him.

Once I had sat down, I picked up his other hand and after a moment he moved his hands back to my forearms and continued the journey up. His hands moved over my shoulders and collarbones until his fingertips brushed the base of my throat. His fingers delicately moved up and he touched the lobes of my ears, followed my jawline before once again heading upwards where he lingered over my lips, the tip of my nose and I closed my eyes as he brushed his thumb pads over my eyelids and eyebrows.

He pulled away, and seemed to think for a moment before speaking again, “May I… This is going to seem strange, but can I hug you?”

I was unsure but I agreed, “Of course,” I leaned in, touching him softly so I didn’t shock him. I slid my arms underneath his and wrapped them around his waist, locking my fingers together gently before leaning in even closer. I laid my head on his shoulder, with my face pointing away from his neck. Hyunjin still seemed a little surprised but he was quick to hug me back, pressing the side of his face onto the top of my head with his arms wrapping around my shoulders.

I felt tears begin to surface as I hugged him. He was so warm and everything about him seemed to feel so right, I felt his chest stutter a little before he pulled me in closer, “I’ve been waiting a long time for you, Y/N.”

I chuckled and squeezed him tighter before pulling away, he was hesitant to let me go but he had the biggest smile on his face and I felt like the luckiest person in the world to have been fated to him.

Months passed and soon Hyunjin was fully moved into my apartment. Our families were extremely happy for us and I found that Hyunjin had a very large group of extremely supportive friends that were almost as lovely as he was. I ended up fitting in quite well with the boys, one of which was actually a sibling to one of my current students who – by the way – had been enthralled when I had told them all I had finally met my soulmate, and they were even more intrigued upon finding out that he was in fact blind.

But, sitting here on the couch with Hyunjin’s head in my lap and with his hand resting on my knee, I couldn’t stop myself from entangling my fingers in his soft hair and began to smile at myself. Sitting here, I know there wasn’t anything in the world I would want to change, except maybe, I would have stayed and sat inside that café just a little earlier on in life. I would have sat in daily if I had known that little cafe would bring me Hyunjin, my love. Hyunjin, you leave me wanting more from life than anyone ever has, you leave me touch starved, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Hyunjin… I love you.”

He twisted around so he faced me, “I love you more, though.”

#hwang #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #stray kids #skz #soulmate au #hyunjin soulmate au #skz au #fem reader #fanfiction #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic

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work-life-harmony · 3 years ago

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Harmony Journal/Blog Posts

9/8/21

“I Stress, Eustress, We All Stress”

It is two days past my 42nd birthday and the eve before the start of another school year. And I anticipate it is going to be a year like no other. There is a tremendous amount of uncertainty that I am feeling at the moment. Personally, I am in the thick of things trying to raise my twelve year-old daughter and blend ourselves with my fiancee and her two children. It has not been easy. My daughter has dealt with anxiety ever since she was little. Her mom passed away two months after her second birthday and it’s hard to know whether her personality has been shaped in part because of the void my wife’s passing created. Now that she is entering adolescence, a certain alchemy of anxiety, anger, and depression has yielded some chaos in our household.

That the pandemic happened to coincide with the time in her life where she is feeling the hardest is unfortunate. Did the lockdown and disruption to our lives exacerbate her feelings of anxiety and anger? It’s probably a safe bet that it did. So that has been a major area of concern and frustration for me.

On the professional side of things, although last year was difficult for many teachers, and I certainly had my frustrations, I was in a fairly good place mentally. There were some aspects to the school year that I actually found novel and enjoyed, such as the ability to sleep later, roll out of bed and teach from my kitchen table. Conversely, the new routine allowed me to develop some habits that were not healthy, including daily rituals such as making and drinking light and sweet coffee and having a serving or two of ice cream nightly between dinner and bed. Furthermore, I seemed to become a slave to my phone. Although I’ve had the willpower to delete apps such as Facebook off of my phone in the past, the last few years I became addicted to the news...and Instagram...and checking my email. One concerning consequence of the pandemic is that I’ve lost my concentration stamina. If I start something, particularly work related, it only takes a few minutes before I feel compelled to get up and do something else, even just for a half minute. Of course this breaks my rhythm of work and I’m unable to achieve any kind of flow. And, worse, sometimes I find that I mean to do something, such as check the weather, but when I open up a tab to do it, I have completely lost what I meant to do when I opened the tab. Scary!

With the start of the new school year, I intend to turn over a new leaf so to speak by approaching different aspects of my professional and personal life with an eye towards my well-being: physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. The forthcoming journal entries will chronicle the conscious changes that I am making in order to foster more harmony in my life and a stronger sense of well-being. Part of that will be my investment in activities that help me achieve a sense of flow, including but not limited to music, reading, and immersing myself in nature.

9/16/21

“Time In a Bottle”

As the school year has started, the typical looseness of my summer days has come to an abrupt end. However, there are some benefits to the structure of my school days. My body has started to adjust to my new routine, and although the school day seems to necessitate a routine, there are conscious choices that I’m making to build a healthy daily schedule. I am up at 5:30 on weekday mornings and in bed reading by 10 pm, a major shift from previous school years in which I would stay up until 11 or later watching television before hopping in bed to fall asleep. Although I’m still adjusting to this new routine (as the school year is still young), I am recognizing an easier relationship with waking up in the morning. As noted in the course, avoiding screens before bedtime contributes to a better sleep and I am finding that I am waking up more rested and ready to meet the day.

An interesting stressor at the start of the school year, before my body has fully adopted the new schedule, is my anxiety that I will somehow miss my morning alarm. I’m the first one in the house who is up in the morning, and no one is coming to wake me in time for my early day if my alarm fails me. Thus, the first week (or two) of the school year leave me sleeping lightly and somewhat anxiously. I continue to add measures into my routine, such as meditation and muscle relaxation practices to help ease my mind. Additionally, I have quieted my mind before falling asleep by acknowledging the things that I am grateful for. This will be touched upon in more depth in a forthcoming journal entry, but there is tremendous value in gratitude. Lori Santos, a renowned professor at Yale University who teaches the highly sought course “The Science of Well-Being,” acknowledged in an article for Newsweek Magazine, “Grateful people tend to be happier and show lower levels of stress hormones like cortisol. Health care workers who keep a gratitude journal show reductions in stress and depression. And people suffering from chronic pain who practice gratitude show improvements in both sleep quality and mood” (Santos). It has become an important strategy for me to ease the chronic stress and anxiety of life which gets exacerbated at the start of a new school year.

With each day, it does become easier to sleep peacefully and I suspect that soon my eyes will open a minute before my alarm rings. I am also pleased to report that rising before the sun comes up has been easier than in years past. Typically, trying to get out of bed in the dark has always been difficult and miserable. Of course, it may return to misery as winter sets in and leaving a warm bed is a shock to the system, but for now I am happy to report that the newly adopted schedule for this school year is working well.

On a more professional side of things, I have been working on my planning as it regards daily obligations. For instance, the adoption of daily to-do lists has helped me to stay better focused on items that need attention; efficient about tending to, and completing, those items; and avoid being frazzled like I have been in the past because the ideas bounce around my brain but have not been concrete since they aren’t visibly posted somewhere. The morning ritual of composing a daily to-do list has really been beneficial for me. An example of items that I’ve included on lists include: grade seven essays today, photocopy “Heroes” article, email Nina’s guidance counselor, drop two books in Mari’s mailbox, hit the supermarket with grocery list, and call the car dealership. Furthermore, I’ve been diligent about staying on top of the “house calendar” to not only make sure that all family events are noted on the calendar, but also to consult the calendar every day as part of my daily routine to see what obligations members of the household have that day and in the near future. This is an indispensable part of our lives and internal harmony. For instance, my daughter’s “picture day” is tomorrow. Since it is listed on the calendar, we can save ourselves stress and frustration by potentially being caught off guard that pictures are being taken tomorrow. Heaven forbid my daughter arrive at school with no inkling that it is picture day, likely exacerbating her stress/anxiety because she feels unprepared. These measures have been part of my process for winning back time and peace of mind.

With that in mind, it is going to be a school long objective to work on organization skills with my students. In particular, I have two sections of remedial sophomore English classes. A good percentage of these students have IEPS or other individualized plans to help them be successful in their high school classes. It is not uncommon to see a personalized modification that revolves around breaking down big concepts and keeping them on task. For this reason, we’ve established a routine of taking out binders/notebooks at the start of every class period. They need reminders, but it is with the purpose of establishing healthy and productive habits that they can carry with them for a lifetime.

9-19-21

“Love May Know No Bounds, But a Teacher Better Set Some”

The financial wizard Warren Buffet has been quoted, “The difference between successful people and really successful people is that really successful people say no to almost everything." While there’s probably a bit of overstatement to Buffet’s claim, one can’t deny that from an “American Dream” point of view that he is considered a success. Thus, there must be some truth behind his words which reinforce the Module 3 concept of boundary-setting. With the rise of technology, be it e-mail or Google classroom, students have greater accessibility to their teachers. In fact, everyone has greater accessibility to teachers. Compounded by the fact that part of last year was taught remotely, the boundaries of the school day almost ceased to exist. Fortunately, the summer has been a quiet time to turn away from professional demands, but with the new school year upon us, I feel it is going to be important to counter the feeling of always being tied to work. For this reason, boundary-setting is going to be a priority for me. My first concern is to establish that I will not be addressing professional inquiries/issues on weekends or days off. Of course, this will be somewhat of a test at the start of the school year because I’m also conscious of the anxiety that arises when my inbox fills up with issues that need attention. But branching off of the time-management piece of the puzzle, I hope to create effective solutions in my approach to time and boundaries.

When I started my career as a teacher, I recall a colleague noting that teaching is a twelve month job condensed down to ten months. Thus, the school day doesn’t truly end with the last bell. There is much to get done between planning, grading, and tending to all of the extra aspects of teaching. Even as a veteran teacher, it is virtually impossible to complete all of my professional needs during school hours. In fact, the demands of being a school teacher may feel endless at times. This is why it is so important to set boundaries. Granted, when you have children of your own, as I do, priorities tend to shift. But, even so, most caring teachers yearn to give 110% to their schools and students. The phrase that comes to mind when that happens is “slave to your work.” This is a recipe for stress and potential unhappiness, so it becomes incumbent upon teachers to set boundaries and strike a balance between personal and professional life. This school year, I feel I’ve done a nice job of making my nights and weekends sacred. I use my time at school effectively and efficiently, shying away from distractions that keep me from being as productive as possible during school hours. I have even established practices with classes that have helped in this regard. For instance, I have designated Friday as an independent reading day for my basic skills classes. While this is productive for them because it creates an environment that they can do sustained reading of literature that they choose, it also affords me time to catch up on grading and plan for the following week (which would otherwise be happening during my weekend). The items that I am not able to get to during the school day are addressed during my time at home, but I believe that I am approaching it in a more thoughtful way. On weekend mornings, I’ve been waking up early as my body adjusts to my 5:30 wakeup routine during the week. So when I’m up for an hour before the rest of the house, I can attack the items that I didn’t get to during the week. Needless to say, my approach this year has left me feeling a better sense of control over my professional duties.

9-22-21

“Shake It Off”

Several years ago the topic du jour in school districts across the country was resilience or grit. This was pre-pandemic. As a concept, it hasn’t gotten the same attention as of late, but that does not undercut the importance of resilience and the tools we need to develop in order to persevere. As noted in Module 3, a growth mindset plus stamina equals achievement. As part of my journey to better living, particularly during the stressful pandemic, I have landed on, and dedicated myself to, several areas which follow:

Developing habits of self care and compassion for others

As we went into lockdown and found ourselves somewhat trapped in our homes, particularly during the fall and winter, it was easy to lose the habits of self-care that had been so natural in our daily lives. I have consciously made an effort to develop better habits of self care since taking this course. Namely, my diet and sleep have been areas of focus. My daily diet looks something like:

-Greek yogurt with granola and fresh berries for breakfast

-A greens, apple, avocado, grilled chicken and blue cheese salad for lunch

-Apple slices, banana, flavored almonds, and/or pretzel & hummus for an afternoon snack

-Dinner varies, but is typically home-cooked and avoids red meat

Prior to this conscious change, I had no real dietary routine and I recognized the impact it was having on me physically and mentally. I was leaning hard into sugar and caffeine; beyond the damage it was doing to my body, it was adversely affecting my sleep habits. Now, however, committed to taking better care of myself, I am cognizant of the synergistic benefits of self-care, especially when times are tough.

Another area of focus, and one often taken for granted in our well-being, is the power of authentic socializing with others. While I was lucky to have a full house made up of my fiancee and our three kids which helped me not feel starved for close, authentic social interaction, I still was not feeling completely edified. Making sure to nurture my relationships, especially with students and colleagues, brings a greater sense of gratification from meaningful interaction. For instance, last school year, I noticed that one aspect of my school day that was glaringly absent was laughter. Whether it stems from banter with colleagues or the shenanigans that carry on with a loose and happy classroom of students, last year punctuated how important laughter is on the psyche. In fact, a line from one of my favorite novels, Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, emphasizes the deep importance of laughter when the protagonist, McMurphy, remarks, “Man, when you lose your laugh you lose your footing.” While social distancing may have made us inclined to shrink away from people, so much has been lost by cocooning ourselves. A tremendous part of our mental health is the release we get when laughing. I have reinvested in that and it has led to the next area of well-being and resilience:

Building a network of positivity

As an extension of that investment into relationships is the support system of those who help to buoy me. While we know that misery often loves company, we should also recognize that happiness is augmented through company as well. One of the better pieces of wisdom that I ever found from a fortune cookie fortune was “Joy shared is doubled; grief shared is halved.” (Does one need to create an APA citation for fortune cookies? Ha!) We certainly are better off building a mindset of positivity. It can be infectious. And although as the school year neared I was having grim thoughts about what was in store for us, my network of people which includes friends, colleagues, and even students have helped me navigate to a place of harmony. Sometimes we are our own worst enemy and our brains can be unkind and counterproductive. And sometimes we lose our way which also takes a toll on our sense of being. That’s why anyone will be better off:

Finding Purpose

Yesterday, I was catching up with my best friend from childhood. I asked how his mother was doing since she retired three years ago from her position as an anesthesiologist. My friend’s response was, “She’s deteriorating.” Granted, this is a woman in her 70s, and time can be cruel. (My fiancee told me last night that she saw a shirt for sale online that said, “My favorite childhood memory is my back not hurting.”) But the real point of my friend’s words is that once she lost her daily purpose of getting up at 5:30 and doing meaningful work, she became aimless and lost the person that she had been for most of her lifetime.

Finding purpose is an important element to the senior curriculum I teach as the literature we read in my ELA class forces us to confront the universal themes of purpose and identity. So much of self-understanding and drive derives from the things that we do.

Perhaps the best figure to explore the value of purpose is the mythological figure of Sisyphus. You may know him as the guy who rolls the rock up the hill. That’s his identity, because that’s what he does. He is suffering eternal punishment for angering the gods, and they have determined that there is nothing worse than this act of futility. When Sisyphus completes his task and gets the rock to the top of the mountain, it just rolls back to the other side and he has to collect the rock again and repeat. Ad nauseum. However, the French absurdist writer Albert Camus examines Sisyphus as a representation of the everyman. We all roll our metaphorical rocks only to watch those acts be undone. We make our beds in the morning. Wash our dishes. Mow the lawn. Go to work. Day after day after day. And ultimately, we suffer for no greater good. However, Camus acknowledges that Sisyphus overcomes his torment if he has his own purpose to the seemingly futile act. When he steps up to the rock with his own personal motivation, or purpose, then it’s not a punishment. That’s the value of purpose.

Fortunately, the profession of education naturally provides purpose as we invest in our students. And beyond that, I have invested in music and relationships. These areas of my life have certainly been instrumental in creating a sense of direction and happiness.

Finally, I believe in:

Continuing to learn, experiment, and grow

Recently, a colleague noted how much she loved being a student and learning. She pointed out that if she could be a student for the rest of her life, she would do it in a heartbeat. I feel somewhat similar. And one of the best aspects of being in the world of education is that I’m consistently being exposed to new ideas and ways of thinking that have satisfied an aspect of my personality that yearns for knowledge.

When the world came to a screeching halt in the spring of 2020, eager to quench my desire to improve my knowledge and skills, I found just what I was looking for online. After some searches for guitar instruction on the internet, I stumbled upon a fellow with a channel on youtube that has been somewhat life-changing. His avuncular disposition and clear explanation of guitar theory has helped me to become a better guitarist and feel a newfound confidence in my playing. Upon reflection, I’m happy that I dedicated myself to improving my skills because it has paid great dividends and underscores the value of knowledge, experimentation and growth.

I feel lucky that a few of the ideas noted above are organically interwoven into the life of an English literature teacher.

9-26-21

“The smell of gratitude” - Sensory Awareness, Attitude and Thankfulness

Yesterday, I stepped outside in the morning and immediately recognized that it was a glorious day. An early morning autumn chill was in the air (my favorite time of year), and the sun dappled the earth through its magnificent golden rays. Shortly after breakfast, the family hopped in the car and headed north to Warwick, NY. When we reached our destination, my fiancee and the kids hopped out and spent an hour on an alpaca farm while I drove into Sugar Loaf, the neighboring hippie town. There, I walked along the main drag in the middle of town and basked in the sunshine between dropping into the different stores. After picking the family up, we drove back into town and had a delicious lunch before heading home mostly along back roads that traced the shore of a lake that crosses the boundary between NY and NJ. It was sensational; the only thing that could have made it better is if the foliage had started to turn.

Days and moments experienced, like yesterday’s outing, force me to return to the lyrics of Neil Peart whose words echo from his band, Rush’s, wonderful song “Time Stand Still”:

Freeze this moment

A little bit longer

Make each sensation

A little bit stronger

Experience slips away...

Time stand still

Of course, time doesn’t stand still, so it becomes necessary for us to savor the big and little moments of our lives. Akin to the Scottish poet Robert Burns’ remark in his poem, “To a Mouse”:

I backward cast my e’e,

On prospects drear!

An’ forward tho’ I canna see,

I guess an’ fear!

We are so busy worrying about our past and futures that we forget to live in the present. With this in mind, I’ve been practicing the art of savoring. Right now, as I write, there is the wonderful aroma of pumpkin muffins in the air. This morning, I relished the hot water pouring down when I took a shower. And even though I’m allergic to animals, I still felt and savored the buttery softness of the teddy bears made with alpaca fur that the kids got when they were at the farm.

There are many areas of our lives to be more present and “tune into” in order to achieve a deeper appreciation for the present moment and increase our happiness and well-being. And, following the advice from the Harmony course to spend time in nature, I find this to be the best time of year to do such a thing. Thus, I have been spending extra time outdoors, smelling the autumnal air and savoring the beauty of the natural world. Fortunately, I’ve had the pleasure of teaching Romantic writers whose ideology turned away from the harsh, cold logic of the Age of Reason and towards the wonders of the natural world and the emotions of humankind. Several poems I teach underscore the value of nature; perhaps no poet celebrates the natural world more than William Wordsworth. He characterizes the peace found in nature when he says in “Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey:

how oft—

In darkness and amid the many shapes

Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir

Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,

Have hung upon the beatings of my heart—

How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee,

O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods,

How often has my spirit turned to thee!

I, too, have looked to nature, both literally and figuratively, to counterbalance the “fever of the world.” I will continue to do so, especially on these glorious autumn days. And in times when I cannot be out in nature, my spirit can still turn to it and find some internal peace with recollections of how sublime Mother Nature can be.

9-29-21

Crisis - “A season to build resiliency”

The subheading to this journal entry comes from an Edutopia article written by Jessica Cabeen, “How School Leaders Can Frame Tough Decisions.” It’s certainly an optimistic mindset in relation to times of struggle or outright crises. Entering my seventeenth year in education, I could never have predicted what the state of education was going to be over the past few years if I had never lived it. If we are to understand “crises” as events that cause us to change our routines and threaten our safety, the pandemic certainly fits the bill.

I’ve had a few other crises since becoming a teacher. The most recent one was a crisis wrought and then averted by Mother Nature right as this school year was beginning. When Hurricane Ida swept up the eastern coast of the US, those of us in the metropolitan area had no real warning about the amount of water that the storm was going to dump on us. At around 8:30 pm, I went into my basement to see streams of water pouring through the basement walls soaking the basement floor as the sump pump struggled to keep up with the quickly rising water table. Ten years prior, I had a similar experience with Hurricane Irene. (It dawns on me now that I must really take note when a Hurricane named after the letter I bears down on me that I need to be alert.) The morning after Irene, I woke up to the items in my basement floating around like they were in a bathtub. With Ida, I made a mad dash to remove the items from the basement that I could and tried to shift my thinking of helplessness to acceptance.

You can’t fight Mother Nature. Thus, I took solace in knowing that I salvaged the things that I could and to not fret about the things that I couldn’t control. This is perhaps a difficult thing to do, especially in a situation like this as we are naturally conditioned to protect our abodes. But the mindset is vital part of our wellbeing. One of the moments from the course on Harmony that really resonated with me was the transference of anxious energy into positive energy. Rather than feel confined by the heightened energy of anxiety, simply telling yourself “I’m excited” can have a real positive effect. Certainly, saying “I’m excited” about a hurricane is a ludicrous connection, but attempts to assuage the mind can bear fruit. In the middle of the madness as Ida was wreaking havoc across NJ, I made a conscious attempt to soothe myself and accept what the fallout was going to be.

From there we are able to learn and grow, and our resilience is definitely tested. Although we may struggle and even suffer, we have the opportunity to learn and grow from our experiences. Additionally, when we go through our own trials, we become empathetic.

Given the extreme negative impacts that trauma can have on individuals, especially young people, crises take on a more serious consideration because it’s not just the present crisis that needs attention; the ramifications for the long-term also need to be addressed. Sometimes checking in is an important step to help others. For that reason, I spent a couple of class periods talking candidly with my students about their feelings regarding the pandemic. Not only was it eye-opening, it was also greatly appreciated by my students. Quite a few students remarked that none of their teachers bothered to check in with them. They carried on with business as usual, even though the students had bigger things on their minds than math or chemistry or history. Since then, and with the endorsement of the Harmony course, I have made it a priority to emphasize and invest in the human connection with my students and the other people in my orbit.

Although the course emphasized a distinction in the connotations of balance and harmony, I do believe that a conscious balancing of different aspects of my routines and choices has led to a more harmonious life. The school year is off to a great start...a better start than I had hoped. And, ultimately, I feel a stronger sense of well-being, physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

Cited Sources:

Burns, Robert. “To a Mouse.” Poets.org, https://poets.org/poem/mouse.

Cabeen, J., 2021. How School Leaders Can Frame Tough Decisions. [online] Edutopia. Available at:

<https://www.edutopia.org/article/how-school-leaders-can-frame-tough-decisions> [Accessed 29

September 2021].

Gilbert, D. (2021). Stumbling on Happiness: Think You Know What Makes You Happy?

Alfred A. Knopf.

Kesey, K. (1672). Ken Kesey: One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (Mass Market

Paperback); 1989 Edition. Ken Kesey.

Rush. “Time Stand Still.” Peter Collins, The Manor, Oxfordshire, 1987.

Santos, L. (2020, December 22). Laurie Santos, Yale Happiness Professor, on 5 things that will

make you happier. Newsweek. Retrieved September 16, 2021, from

https://www.newsweek.com/2021/01/08/laurie-santos-yale-happiness-professor-5-thing

-that-will-make-you-happier-1556182.html.

Wordsworth, William. “Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, on Revisiting the

Banks of the Wye During a Tour, July 13, 1798.” Poets.org,

https://poets.org/poem/lines-composed-few-miles-above-tintern-abbey-revisiting-banks-

wye-during-tour-july-13-1798.

#balanceandharmony

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brighterthanghosts · 4 years ago

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Meant for Romance

Word count: 1,893

Part 1/1

Pairing: Taishiro (past Koumi)

Read below the cut or on ao3

Summary: “So let me get this straight,” Miyako says, swiftly biting into her toast. “You got sloppy drunk on a Tuesday and hooked up with your hot best friend. He let you sleep in his bed overnight and brought you breakfast.”

“And now you’re here, having breakfast with me,” Miyako says with a bored sigh, “When you could be having a coffee-flavored makeout sesh with your hot best friend.”

Heavily implied nsfw. Lots of awkward. Humor maybe? Largely fueled by too much coffee at 4 a.m.

So warm.

Koushiro doesn’t remember ever feeling so cozy in his life. He knows he needs to get up soon — the morning sun on the other side of his eyelids beckons him to start the day. But sleep is still within his grasp, and his pillow smells so nice, like sage and bergamot and mint. He recognizes that scent, though he can’t quite place it, but his brain supplies him with hot breaths on his neck and a husky coo of his name.

Koushiro shivers, pulls the cotton sheet under his chin, and revels in the way it drags across his skin. His skin. All of his skin.

Eyes snapping open, Koushiro jolts up. The sheet, having fallen to the tops of his thighs, answers his first question, but — Where the hell am I?

He remembers Mimi, her pretty hair pulled back, making her deep-set frown stand out even more. She told him it wasn’t working out, that there’s someone else, that this just wasn’t doing it for her anymore. I wasn’t doing it for her at all.

He remembers calling Taichi, desperate and agonizing. Taichi saying he’d be there in 30 minutes. Taichi hailing down a cab to take them to a bar where “the drinks are cheap and totally worth it.” Taichi making him feel better instantly with big grins and fond laughter because that’s what friends do.

Spotting his clothes loosely folded on the desk chair across from the bed, Koushiro moves hastily and slips his underwear on, left foot then right foot. He knows he told Taichi about the breakup. Well, it wasn’t really a breakup, considering he and Mimi had never put a label to what they were doing, which wasn’t much.

Koushiro was busy, and Mimi was needy. She needed things from him that he couldn’t give. They’d tried to engage in sexual activities exactly twice, and neither time could Koushiro perform. It was something that embarrassed him to no end because he liked Mimi and he thought she was cute, but for the entire 8 months they were seeing each other, his body just wouldn’t respond.

Taichi spent most of that conversation listening, Koushiro realizes now, and he never poked fun or judged him. He loves that about Taichi. He’s working on the fourth button of his white dress shirt when his eyes dart to a Polaroid photo propped up on the desk. In the bottom right-hand corner reads ‘The Yagamis 2002.’ Nonononono.

And it hits him like a bullet train. Rough hands, harsh lips. Hips colliding, hot with need. Smooth, sun-kissed skin everywhere. Taichi over him, eyes wide and lips swollen. “Perfect. You’re so perfect.”

“Fuck,” Koushiro stutters, palms suddenly clamy. He’s got both legs in his pants, pulling them up in one swoop, and he hears the door unlock. Fuck.

“Hey, you’re awake!” Taichi says, smiling. At least, Koushiro suspects he’s smiling, but he doesn’t want to know. He can’t bring himself to look at his friend. He hears a rustle of plastic and something heavy hitting the table, but his mind can only focus on slipping on his socks at light speed.

“Sorry to leave you alone,” Taichi sounds sincere. It makes Koushiro feel worse. “I didn’t have much in the fridge, so I ran to the convenience store down the street. I grabbed that bottled Oolong you like. I hope eggs and — you’re leaving?”

“Sorry, Taichi-san. I have to go.” And Koushiro is out the door, leaving Taichi to stand alone in his little apartment.

***

He’s not sure where he’s going, not exactly paying attention, but he spots a park and some familiar treelines, and he manages to make it to a door, knocking furiously.

A beat passes, and he knocks again.

“Jesus, what!?” Miyako says, whipping the door open and looking like she just rolled out of bed. She eyes Koushiro, his tousled hair, frazzled expression, and haphazard outfit.

“Either you’ve met a very unfriendly tornado, or you’re doing the walk of shame,” she says, causing Koushiro to flush from the neck up. “Ah. Walk of shame, huh? Come in.”

The next 20 minutes are filled with Miyako filling her toaster and putting on a pot of coffee while Koushiro relays the previous night’s events with record speed. He’s beet red.

“So let me get this straight,” Miyako says, swiftly biting into her toast. “You got sloppy drunk on a Tuesday and hooked up with your hot best friend. He let you sleep in his bed overnight and brought you breakfast.”

She pauses to look directly into his soul, and Koushiro would like nothing more than to simply pass away.

“And you panicked.” Miyako’s tone is pointed, but when she doesn’t immediately continue, Koushiro opens his mouth to reply in uncoordinated hand gestures and wordless exasperation. He nods instead.

“And now you’re here, having breakfast with me,” Miyako says with a bored sigh, “When you could be having a coffee-flavored makeout sesh with your hot best friend.”

“It’s not like that!” Koushiro defends. Taichi was his very first friend and probably his closest friend — there was no way he could jeopardize that. His failed attempt at a relationship with Mimi was proof enough that Koushiro isn’t meant for romantic endeavors of any kind.

“I just got out of a relationship!” Koushiro pleads, but Miyako’s expression is solid. She’s not buying this for a moment. Softer, Koushiro says, “And Taichi is my friend. I don’t want to take advantage of him.”

“He obviously didn’t mind,” Miyako, says, annoyed and unimpressed with Koushiro’s half-hearted explanation. Koushiro grunts and looks down at the kitchen counter — he’s not entirely sure he believes himself. Miyako sighs again, this time with a hint of sincere tiredness woven in, and saunters toward her bedroom. “Tragic.”

***

The drive to the office is mostly silent, except for Miyako’s intermittent humming to whatever song is playing on the radio. Koushiro can’t make out any of the words over the sound of his heart thrumming like an upright bass in his ears. Miyako doesn’t seem to notice.

It’s times like this when he truly appreciates her — hiring Miyako as his assistant director was one of his best decisions. She always sorts him out when he gets too caught up in the details. Which is probably why he randomly showed up at her home this morning.

They’re walking into the building, and Miyako greets the receptionist quickly, shielding Koushiro from anyone passing through. He looks a mess, he knows, and Miyako’s being kind by attempting to uphold his reputation. She walks him all the way to his office, reminding him to pull the curtain over the glass windows by his door. She says to find her when he’s done.

It was also Miyako who mothered him into keeping spare clothes at the office after one too many all-nighters. “You look like a trash panda, honestly.”

The morning goes as usual, answering emails, IMing Miyako about the slides for their monthly report. He doesn’t notice when noon rolls around. He doesn’t pay attention when his office door opens, or when the sound of rustling plastic makes its second appearance today.

“Koushiro,” comes a soft voice. Koushiro’s fingers hover above his keyboard and a shiver runs down his spine. “Koushiro,” Taichi says again.

He knows he needs to respond but he can’t pull himself away from his safety net just yet. His fingers touch down on the keyboard again, and he exhales shakily.

“Hello, Taichi-san.”

“I was worried you didn’t eat, so I brought you lunch,” Taichi says quietly. It’s unlike him, and it breaks Koushiro’s heart. He knows he’s being selfish. He knows he should acknowledge his friend, but —

“Koushiro, please,” Taichi says, voice sadder now, a tinge of anguish in that last word. “Can we please talk?”

Koushiro freezes again. He’s so utterly fucked and completely inexperienced in all aspects of what’s sure to unfold here. But Taichi sounds hurt, and he doesn’t want to be someone who hurts Taichi.

He swivels around in his chair, facing Taichi on the sofa but looking at the ground where the toe of his shoe meets the wood floor. He wants to say something, taps his foot a few times, and finally looks up.

“Taichi-san, I —”

“What the fuck?”

“Huh?” Koushiro says, caught off guard. Mimi is storming into his office, face fire-engine red.

“You cheated on me?!” She squawks.

“Excuse me?” Koushiro musters because this is his ex, and his mother taught him to mind his manners, but he feels offended.

“Sora heard from Yamato that you slept with someone last night!” Mimi is causing a scene. A few of Koushiro’s colleagues have poked their heads into the hallway outside Koushiro’s office.

“Did you know about this? Who is she?”

She’s addressing Taichi now, who sinks deeper into the sofa and looks like he might combust, and Koushiro’s blood is boiling. He stands, moving into her line of vision.

“Mimi-san, I hardly think anything I did last night could be considered cheating as we never defined the exclusivity of our relationship and you said there was someone else.” Koushiro says with as much confidence as he can. “I think that gives me the right to do as I want.”

Mimi stomps her foot and raises her arms, ready to shout a thousand expletives, but Miyako is through the door and in Mimi’s face like a forcefield.

“Good afternoon, and welcome to Izumi Corporation. My name is Inoue Miyako, and I’m the lead director of team shut down. As in, I’m shutting this down immediately,” Miyako says, straight faced and with her kindest customer service voice. The first-floor security guard stands just outside Koushiro’s office, already escorting Mimi out. Miyako follows after them, stopping in the doorframe. “Thank you for your visit to Izumi Corp! Have a nice day!”

She smiles and waves, and Koushiro feels like he can breathe again. He has know idea what just happened, and his head is pounding. Miyako’s smile falls, eyebrows pull together, and from the doorway, she points her finger at Koushiro and yells, “I expect a raise!”

She shuts his curtains, slams the door behind her and disappears after that. Koushiro’s mind would normally leave the train station in 50 directions at once, but he’s just stunned. He turns, hoping to find Advil in his desk drawer, and — Taichi!

“Taichi-san, I’m so sorry,” Koushiro turns around to face him, and it’s all he can do because Taichi doesn’t deserve any of this. Taichi is looking at him unexpectedly, reaches a hand up to scratch at the nape of his neck and smiles slightly.

“So,” Taichi says and pauses, looking at the table, “lunch?”

Koushiro stares in awe. Taichi smiles and after a beat, looks up and says, “And maybe we can start this day over?”

They spend the rest of the afternoon talking, and Koushiro apologizes with his entire being. For the event with Mimi. For leaving him. For being so cold. Taichi reassures every “I’m sorry.” Taichi says it’s okay because he doesn’t expect the world Koushiro. Taichi is his best friend. Taichi would like to try last night again. Today, preferably, with less alcohol, but he isn’t pushing.

They weathered a year’s worth of drama in a single day. Koushiro is still breathing, and Taichi still smiles at him like Koushiro is the sun. And maybe Koushiro is meant for romance.

#taishiro #taishirou #Taichi is so good #Koushiro needs to lighten up #digimon #excuse my 4 am trash

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hazel-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: You begin your first official day of work and meet your new coworkers, who turn out to be full of surprises.

Word Count: 2,300

Notes: This chapter is a bit slow, but I'm excited to introduce you to some new characters! If you want to see Picrew face-claims for these characters, look here. Otherwise, imagine them to look however you want!

Warnings: brief mentions of violence

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

I'm trying hard to hide

Keep the sun out of my eyes

Close them tight

And now I'm waiting for the moon to rise

Belle and Sebastian ~ Waiting for the Moon

You walked through the door, nervously wringing your hands, despite your best efforts not to. Your eyes scanned the room, eventually landing on a large, grey reception desk. Sitting behind the desk was none other than Ms. Stoney, the uptight woman who had “welcomed” you onto the ship the day before.

You took a deep breath before walking over to her, waiting patiently for her to look up and address you — but she didn’t. You tried subtly clearing your throat, shifting your feet from side to side, and moving into her line of sight, but nothing seemed to grab her attention. Eventually you forced out a meek, “Hi, there!” to which she responded with an annoyed glance in your direction.

“Oh, it’s you again,” she grumbled with a mix of tiredness and disappointment.

“Uh, yeah, it is,” you smiled back, which you could tell bothered her. “I’m looking for the artist workspace? I know it’s somewhere within this department, but I wasn’t sure where exactly…”

“Artist?” she questioned, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah! Ya know, an individual who… does art?” Your attempt at an explanation was met by silence. “Umm… they’re usually covered in some sort of paint or clay, might dress a little funny, are often a little angsty, possibly tormented by some aspect of their past?” More silence. You give a strained smile; you really shouldn’t keep trying to talk over awkward silences. “Not ringing a bell, huh?”

Through clenched teeth she replied,“I believe the people you are looking for are through those doors on the left.”

She said the word people like it left a bad taste in her mouth. She obviously didn’t think too kindly of them.

“Great, thanks,” you replied, heading to the door she indicated.

You opened it, and to your surprise you saw no canvases, paint splatters, tin cans, or haphazard brushes littering the room. The walls and floors were a spotless white. A large, circular table was positioned in the center of the room, surrounded by sleek modern chairs and data pads on tripods. This didn’t look like your dad’s studio back home; a place where the remnants of unfinished projects were put on display for everyone to see and learn from. Here, you could already tell: making mistakes wasn’t an option. There was no room for error.

You returned your attention to what was in front of you, only to have three pairs of eyes meet yours.

The first pair belonged to a girl of medium height. She had long, slightly frazzled, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that contrasted her pale skin. She jumped when you walked in, her face immediately lighting up when she saw you. The second pair belonged to a taller girl. She had warm, chestnut eyes that complemented her dark, sepia skin. Her hair framed her face in a fan of tight curls. She seemed to examine you carefully, squinting slightly, before turning back to her work. The final pair belonged to a boy of medium height. He had shaggy light brown hair and a tanned, terracotta complexion. He looked at you with curious hazel eyes, smirking ever so slightly.

The three of them looked to be about your age, somewhere in their 20's.

The blonde-haired girl ran over to you, pulling you away from your observations. “You must be the new girl!” she exclaimed. “I’m Rilea, your new best friend.”

You were taken aback by her enthusiastic and cheerful attitude; it wasn’t something you encountered very often on the Finalizer. You laughed nervously. “Oh, uhh… cool?”

The boy with the disheveled hair spoke up from the back of the room. “Don’t mind her, she has a new best friend each week.” He smirked at Rilea and she threw a box of tissues at him playfully.

“While that may be true,” she continued, turning to face you, “I can tell that you are going to be my favorite best friend.”

“That’s literally what you say to every single new person you meet,” the boy piped up again.

“For star's sake, Takoda, why do you have to be such a mudcrutch?!” Rilea shouted at him, frustrated.

You continued to observe in silence, still adjusting to the rapid shift of atmosphere in this room compared to the rest of the Finalizer.

You moved to go sit, finding an open seat next to the quiet, curly-haired girl. You gave her a small smile when you sat down, and she returned the favor, scooting her chair over to give you more room. Rilea, and the boy whose name apparently was Takoda, continued to argue like a couple of four year olds.

“Are they always like this?” you asked the girl seated next to you.

“Yup, pretty much,” she replied. “That is, of course, in between the times when they aren’t getting any work done… and the times when they still aren’t getting any work done.”

You laughed. “Well, at least one person here seems to have a level-head.”

“Make that two,” she said, giving you a smile. “My name is Akilah. What’s yours?”

You told her your full name before giving her your nickname, Wren, as well.

“Wren…” she pondered. “Not as in Kylo Ren, right?”

“No, no, no, stars, no,” you emphasized. “It’s the name of a- ” You paused, reconsidering. “I actually don’t know where it comes from, my friends just started calling me by it one day...”

Akilah stared at you intently for a few moments before Takoda shouted over at the two of you.

“Hey, you two aren’t gossiping about us now, are ya?”

You sighed, “Nope, just getting to know Akilah here.”

Rilea poked her head out from behind Takoda, “She's my best friend too!”

You mentally face-palmed and turned to fully face the group.

“So, this is the artist workspace?” you questioned, skeptically.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I wouldn’t go that far as to say we are artists,” said Takoda.

You were confused. “But I thought-”

“You thought wrong. Here, you just follow the rules and instructions laid out for you. We are given colors, words, and images, and it’s simply our job to assemble it all into a neat poster or flyer for distribution.”

“Oh…” you replied, disappointed.

“I’m not even an artist,” he continued. “They just stuck me here after I was medically discharged from the trooper program. For the most part, everyone in this sector just got placed here because there was nothing else they could do”

“So why did they bother hiring me then?” you questioned. “If I’m gonna be honest, I’m used to a little more creative freedom back home. They could’ve chosen anyone for this job.”

“I don’t know,” Takoda replied. “Maybe they want their propaganda to look good for a change.” He smirked.

“Where did you say you were from again, bestie?” Rilea asked.

“Oh, I didn’t,” you replied. “I’m from Lothal.”

Immediately, each member of the team looked at each other, worried.

“Lothal…” Rilea repeated. “That’s one of the Order's targeted planets right now. I have a feeling that pretty soon we'll be distributing posters there. Maybe Hux thinks you can help reason with the people there?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Akilah added. “First Order propaganda would be a lot easier to accept coming from a fellow citizen.”

You pondered their words. What they were saying was probably true: you were simply a tool to be used by the First Order. They didn’t care about your talent or passion; they just needed your image.

“Well, I don't know how helpful I'd be on that front,” you sighed, pausing. “So what is the project you are working on now?”

“We’ll know soon enough,” said Takoda. “Our fourth member should be returning soon with our new assignment.”

“Fourth member?” you questioned.

At that moment, the door swung open with a dramatic bang, revealing a tall, lanky boy with jet black hair and evergreen eyes. He was pale with light freckles speckling his face and arms. His eyes narrowed when they met yours, scrutinizing your presence.

“Look, here he is, ‘fun-sized Kylo’ himself,” Takoda quipped.

Rilea leaned towards you. “He claims that he adopted the whole ‘tormented soul, dramatic hair’ look before Ren even thought of it,” she snickered.

You were confused, but luckily Akilah came to your rescue.

“This is Soren,” she explained. “Our fourth member… Well, fifth, now.”

“Oh!” you replied, stretching out your hand for him to shake. “It’s nice to meet you I’m -”

“Irrelevant,” he interrupted bluntly, briskly brushing past you to sit at the back of the room.

You stood there, hand still outstretched, looking to the others for guidance.

Takoda spoke first, turning to face Soren. “Hey, laser brain, why don’t ya try being a little nicer to our newest member.”

“This is our newest member?” he responded, disapprovingly. “She doesn’t look like the First Order’s finest.”

“That’s because I’m not,” you interjected, defensive. “I’m from Lothal originally. Today is technically my first day with the Order.”

At the mention of your home planet, Soren visibly tensed, his fingers curling into tight fists. The other three looked nervously at each other; they knew something you didn’t.

Akilah, again, interrupted the tense silence. “We should probably get to work… What’s the new assignment Sor?”

Hearing her voice, he seemed to relax a little, pulling out a few papers with various sketches and color swatches.

“They want us to design posters directed at the people of Dantooine. The First Order is currently working to establish a blockade on the planet. It is our job to convince the natives to submit, while also showing them that they have the ability to contribute their own assets to our cause.”

You frowned, unsure of a few posters' ability to do such a thing. You were familiar with Dantooine; its history was deeply rooted in rebel allegiance. You doubted that a few pieces of paper could somehow shift the ingrained attitudes of thousands of people. But then again, you were an artist. And as an artist, it was your job to put blind faith into your work, simply hoping that others could see what you saw in it.

“How successful has this First Order propaganda been in the past?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Takoda laughed. “Not very. Usually, it just makes the citizens more angry. But that kind of works in favor of the Order: as soon as the rebels and their sympathizers become violent, whatever happens to them at the hands of the Order is then justified, so to speak.”

“What would happen if we tried to mix things up a bit? Like attempting a different style, color scheme, or whatever it may be, to make the posters more effective?” you suggested.

Suddenly serious, Takoda spoke. “No. We don’t do anything without the Order’s permission. Never. That’s our number one rule. We can mess around and make jokes all we want in here, but whatever finished product leaves this room has to be exactly what was requested of us.”

Something in Takoda’s voice made it seem like there was history behind this rule — history that didn't conclude with a happy ending. Looking around the room, you knew you were right. Everyone, except for Soren, was avoiding your gaze, choosing to stare at their shoes or the floor. Soren continued to bore into you with a death-glare, but your instincts told you he was like this with everyone and not to take it too personally.

“Yeah, I get it,” you responded. Soren looked at you sceptically. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. I’m on my last warning with General Hux — another mistake will pretty much guarantee my head a new home in the trash compactor.”

“Speaking of Hux, we are to report to him tomorrow with drafts,” Soren finally spoke up.

“Tomorrow?!” Rilea exclaimed.

“Yup,” Soren replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Of course he would pull something like this, giving us less than 24 hours notice...” Rilea muttered, irritated.

“Stars, I swear that man is 90% petulant child, 7% attempted scariness, and 3% toupee,” you responded.

This earned a chuckle from the group. Even Soren managed a smirk.

“Yeah, well, sadly, that petulant child has a big red button sitting under his bony finger that can destroy entire planets in the blink of an eye,” said Akilah, quietly. “So, we should probably get to work.”

“She’s right,” you say, desperate to end any talk of Hux. “Let’s start.”

And with that, the five of you began work on what was your first official project on the Finalizer. Akilah showed you how to accurately read the diagrams that the Order had provided. Rilea and Takoda attempted to work for a few minutes before devolving into yet another tissue paper fight. Soren sat quietly in the corner, working on the new project, glancing up every now and then at you and Akilah.

Despite the hectic menagerie of personalities that surrounded you, you were glad that you weren't stuck working with cold, robotic First Order employees like Ms. Stoney. You desperately wanted to ask your new friends about their backstories and how they came to be “artists” on the Finalizer, but Takoda and Rilea were busy stuffing tissues in each other’s ears, and Akilah and Soren seemed like the ‘work in silence’ types. You decided to settle with your own thoughts for now; it wasn’t as if you were lacking them.

It occurred to you that tomorrow you would have to face Hux again, the memory of what he sneered at you in the hallway this morning still fresh in your mind: Strike two.

You didn’t know what strike three would involve, but you definitely didn’t want to find out.

Unfortunately, you didn't get that lucky.

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