#cloud computing quiz questions

[rashmislearningplanet]

Class 6 : Cyber Olympiad Quiz | PART - 1 | 24 Important Questions | Oswaal Books | Computer Quiz

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

KitKat - A Pedrotober Drabble

Day Six of Pedrotober: Dieter Pedrotober hosted by @norththelemon and @alyssamariag. View the full prompt list HERE and view my entire Pedrotober drabble catalog HERE.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Rating: G for Goodness gracious now I want a KitKat. There is a brief mention of rehab.

Word Count: 1722

a/n: I struggled so hard for so long with what to do for today and then at 11:28PM I was reading and one line in my book somehow turned into this. I truthfully find Dieter incredibly difficult to write because I struggle to fit his plot into context for any fic I attempt, but this is my little version of our favorite trash panda.

Fifteen Years Ago

"Okay, is it more meaningful to you when someone you love puts their arm around you in public or when someone you love surprises you with a gift?"

"I can't believe you're even asking me that," Dieter scoffs from his place on your dorm room floor. You're half hanging off the side of your bed, laptop balanced precariously as you click through the questionnaire. Without any further hesitation, you click someone I love puts their arm around me in public and move down to the next question.

It started when your best friend knocked on your door at nearly two in the morning. His arrival on your doorstep, barefoot with a bottle of wine, was more routine than anything, and always signaled another tragic tale of love. Tonight was no different. Jasper had apparently ditched your best friend in favor of making out with a freshman at the club they frequented. Why, you could never comprehend. Not when Dieter was right there. Not that you'd ever tell him that.

"He told me that I could never understand how to love him. That our love languages aren't compatible." Confusion must have been written into your expression because he continued to answer the question that never left your lips. "Don't ask me what that means because I have no fucking clue."

You'd watched as he grabbed a KitKat from his bag, breaking off a stick to hand to you, but the alcohol clouding your brain had you thinking. "I wonder what my love language is?"

Dieter snorted. "Maybe Jasper would've found you more compatible."

"I don't date actors," you'd fired back, already reaching for your laptop and booting it up. "Maybe I can kick him out of the fall play, though," you pondered as you navigated to an online quiz boasting the ability to determine exactly how you desire to be loved.

"What about this one?" you read off the next question. "Is it more meaningful when you get the chance to 'hang out' with someone you love or when you unexpectedly get small gifts from someone you love?"

"Hanging out, for sure," Dieter responds, uninterested, and you click his answer while mentally responding the opposite. The process continues through the remainder of the thirty questions, you reading off the options and the man lounging on your floor giving you his answers.

"Physical touch," you tell him when the results pop up on your screen. "It says you long for hand-holding and hugs." You say it mostly to goad him, but you can also easily see the truth of it. The paragraph you skim through perfectly describes him.

"I long for a lot more than hugs," he retorts, shifting onto his side. "And with how Jasper was acting tonight I would've guessed that he does too." He pauses for a moment as you tap away on your computer. "You're checking to see what it says for you now, aren't you?"

You catch his gaze out of the corner of your eye and resist the urge to throw a pillow at him. "There's no harm in finding out what it says," you point out, clicking quickly through the questions you've already read once. You're quiet once you finish, sitting up and crossing your legs beneath you as you read the information more carefully.

"What does it say?" Dieter asks as he shifts from his position on the carpet to slide into your tiny dorm room bed next to you, reading the screen from behind your shoulder.

"Receiving gifts," you note. "Apparently the perfect gift makes me feel like I'm prized above whatever was sacrificed to bring the gift to me." It makes sense, the more you think about it. You regularly spend extra time carefully picking out the perfect gift for others, and you were never more excited than on Christmas morning.

The man behind you hums. "It fits, but I still think it's a load of bullshit," he returns before guiding you to shut your laptop. He sets it to the side, lazily sprawling out on your bed as he wraps an arm around your waist to drag you against him.

"Says the man currently attaching himself to me like a baby koala."

"You love it, KitKat," he breathes your nickname sleepily against your neck.

He was right about one thing.

Present Day

The reality that you haven't heard from Dieter in years has done nothing to dull his presence in your mind. You'd gone your separate ways after college, Dieter to LA, eager to jumpstart his acting career. You remained in New York, intent on seeing one of your plays through to Broadway, but in the early days you mostly worked at a diner downtown. When you weren't working, you were writing, sitting at your laptop until well after midnight, typing away in hope that something would stick.

He tried to convince you to join him. He would send you pictures of massive film sets and regale you with tales of Hollywood stars, but you always declined his offer. It was important to you, you explained, to finish what you'd started.

Plus, he was a rising celebrity and you were a failed playwright. The distance you forced between you was the only thing preventing you from dulling his shine. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Then the calls became less frequent. He stopped trying to persuade you. While he flew to London and Hong Kong and Paris, you stayed where you were. If you were lucky, you'd grab coffee or lunch during one of his layovers in New York, but more often than not he was there and gone before you could even try to contact him.

When you started seeing his face in magazines at the store, blasting headlines about his casting in upcoming films, you'd call to congratulate him, only to be forwarded to his assistant instead. Texts would go unanswered, and you started to wonder if you'd made the whole thing up.

So instead of allowing your emotions to consume you, you threw yourself into writing. Tried to get him out of your head and onto the paper in a way that you'd suppressed all this time. You called out of work, ate nothing but ramen, and worked at all hours until you were printing the draft and sending it to the only agent you'd convinced to read it.

And then your life spun out of control.

Your agent thought your play was good, really good, and within months you found yourself watching your reality play out on stage. A producer had seen the value in your story, in the way the leads danced around each other like they'd be together until they weren't. Two lost souls meant not to find each other, but to lose each other instead.

Meanwhile, Dieter was in rehab. You knew it from the clickbait that popped up on your feed each morning. Suggestions of what might be interesting to you constantly thrust his fall from grace into your stream of consciousness. You wondered if this was how it had felt for him. The whiplash of being at the bottom one day and the top the next before careening back again. It made you uneasy, the way you continuously waited for the other shoe to drop.

Then, a KitKat.

You furrowed your brow as your stage manager appeared in front of you with the candy bar, neatly wrapped in a bow. When you asked where it had come from, who it had come from, she shrugged. "I was just told to bring it to you."

There was no shortage of gifts stacked up in the little studio you still called home, but as you stood in the wings of the theater, holding the chocolate, you felt in a way you hadn't in years. You studied it, harder than you probably should have, your fingers tracing across the plastic in search of some kind of hidden message, because after all this time, after everything you'd convinced yourself of, there was only one person who could have sent this to you.

"That's your love language."

His voice is a shock, one that causes you to spin around violently to rest your eyes on his figure, hidden partially by the shadows of the curtain. How he's here you can only guess, but you suppose that it isn't that hard for a Hollywood star to sneak backstage on Broadway. You remain silent as you watch him take a few steps closer. "Gift giving," he continues. "Do you remember what mine is?"

"Your what?" you ask, completely blinded by his presence.

"My love language," he shrugs, as though nothing has happened. Like you're still just two college kids in a dorm room taking a quiz about how you want to be loved.

"Well, it isn't quality time," you quip with a small smile, your brain finally catching up with the realization that he's here in front of you. That this isn't just some dream.

The corners of Dieter's lips angle upward. "No, but I am sorry that I've missed out on a lot of that." His arms flinch as though they itch to wrap around you the way they used to, but he holds himself back. "I'm sorry for all of it, actually."

You tilt your head, "for what?"

"For leaving you behind. For giving up on you when you never gave up on me." He pauses, more contemplative than you've ever seen him. "For giving up on myself."

His words hit you, stirring your emotions as the cast begins to hit the stage, swirling around you both as they find their places for the start of the show. The one you'd written for him. "How do you know I didn't?" you ask quietly.

Dieter nods at the KitKat in your hands, melting under your touch as he takes a step toward you. "Someone kept sending those to me. You wouldn't happen to know why?"

You do, but you shake your head regardless. Your gaze flickers down to his lips and then back up to his eyes, a silent signal that you do remember how he wants to be loved. "Did it matter?"

He finally leans in, closing the distance between you, leaving no question as to how he desires to love you. "You always did."

[hunieday]

Yuki - Idol Star Prince Stage Rabbit Chat

Please note that I am not a professional translator and I'm only doing this to share the side materials to those who cannot access them, if you notice any mistakes please let me know nicely. Enjoy!

Yuki: momo

Yuki: please talk to me about anything

Momo: Yuki?! Thank you for your hard work!

Momo: 

Momo: I know you’re composing a song right now so are you stuck…？

Yuki: mhm

Yuki: I feel like im turning into an exhaustion stew

Momo: A Yuki stew, now that’s a new one?! I’d love stewed radish on my plate! 😋

Yuki: Then I’ll turn into a radish now. I’ll even add chili peppers free of charge

Momo: lololol

Momo: I only see you like this when you’re tired…are you okay? I can talk to you as much as you want, but is there anything else I could do for you?

Yuki: right now

Momo: Right now?

Yuki: dr

Momo: Dr?

Momo: Huh

Momo: Yukiiiii, are you okay?😭

Yuki: dri

Momo: Are you making me piece your quiz together one letter at a time?!

Momo: Driver?

Yuki: 

Momo: You fell asleep…was I wrong…

Yuki: you were right up until the v

Momo: lololol I was close

Momo: Wait, is your word “a drive”?!

Yuki: yeah, somehow i want to go on a drive with you rather than talk through rabbichat

Yuki: it’s about time your magazine shoot wrapped up

Momo: Ahhh!!! Right!!!!! That was the plan but…

Momo: We’re waiting to shoot the last images with the sunset in the background, but there are clouds obstructing it…

Yuki: the clouds are holding momo back….

Momo: 

Momo: I’m sorry to keep you waiting, it might be better to call it off for today…

Yuki: i’ll wait for you

Momo: huh

Yuki: i’ll wait for you. I don't think i’ll do anything if i just sit here in front of a computer screen

Momo: Yukiiiiiiii~~~~~~

Yuki: i know

Momo: I haven’t even said it yet!!!!! But the fact that you knew I was about to call you handsome makes you ultra handsome!!!!! >u<😍😆😍💚 

Momo: Haah… and I’m double nervous now because I was staring at a picture I took of you during your idol star costume fitting right before you messaged me 😍💚 

Yuki: hehe, you were staring at me?

Yuki: ah, I haven’t filled the idol star survey yet 

Momo: It must’ve been tough since you have so much on your plate, especially the composing stuff 😭😭

Yuki: What kind of questions did you get?

Momo: Mostly questions about princely stuff 🤔 “have you ever thought about being a prince?” something like that!

Yuki: never

Momo: Obviously! Yuki is already a handsome prince who takes me out on drives 🤴 ✨ 

Momo: There were also questions about whether I read adventure books where the prince fights to save the princess, especially as kids!

Yuki: i didn’t. we didn’t have books like that at home

Momo: I bet a dad like that wouldn’t buy those kinda books! 😆

Yuki: i knew such stories existed though. I thought it was weird to voluntarily go through to such lengths just to save a princess.

Yuki: why not leave it to a strong valiant knight. he has a better shot at succeeding anyways

Momo: That’s right!!!! lolol it would be meaningless to go help then get beat up and defeated 🤣

Momo: But the Yuki I know wouldn’t leave it up to some strong knight, he’d rush to the rescue himself 

Yuki: You think so?

Momo: For the juniors’ sake, you would greet the producers and tell them to “take care of those children”, then you strike a conversation with them during recordings! You’re so cool and dependable！

Momo: That’s the Yuki I know!

Yuki: thank you, Momo

Yuki: If you were the captured one and not the princess, I would definitely come running.

Yuki: So, if you don’t want to put me in danger, don’t keep secrets from me.

Momo: Yuki…

Momo: I’m sorry to interrupt this very heartfelt moment, but the sun is setting!! I’m gonna dash to wrap this up, so let’s talk about this in person!!!!!!!!!!

Momo: I’ll never do anything that would put you in danger, I promise, and I won't let you do anything reckless!!!!

Yuki: you better keep that promise

Yuki: I might not have a horse carriage or tea that’d suit a princess, but I’ll be waiting for you in my own car with momorin for you.

Momo: You are too good ✨ ‼️

Momo: Yuki, you’re the absolute best prince!

Momo: 

Yuki:

[kikithedreamerwriter]

For some context also read my Enchanted series. Leo and Sayuri’s first meeting!

🗣️: @miss-andromeda @shinzowosasageyoooo @tinkabelle19 @m1dnyt3-w0lf @sharpwindow @akesdraws-blog @fyreball66 @pheradream-15

⚠️: typos hehe

Somewhere Only We Know

Part 1 | Part 2

Ivanna Lucia: i’ll be at dance around 1800 tomorrow. wait for me?

Raph smiled, quickly typing out his reply on his computer.

Hagrid Jr: Sure :)

Ivanna Lucia: goodnight! :3

Ivanna Lucia’s avatar disappeared from the server and she was officially offline. Raph sighed, laying his head against the apex of his spinning chair and staring at the ceiling. The way she would use small caps and her sense of humor sent a heat spreading across Raph’s plastron and all over his face. He shut his eyes forcibly, trying to zone out his own embarrassment towards his recent… feelings. When he opened his eyes again, he began to wonder just how did it turned out like this.

A few months ago, Raph walked in on Donnie who was re-watching Harry Potter: The Sorcerer’s Stone and found himself finishing the whole thing with Donnie at the kitchen table. You could only imagine the amusement Donnie had when his normally shut-in, tough-acting, and stoic brother began asking him questions about the movie as it played. And not just basic questions — but inquiries so specific and thought-provoking that Donnie had to stop himself from debating each and every single one of Raph’s points. He knew he would absolutely obliterate his red-clad brother, but for the sake of preserving Raph’s newfound interest, he abstained from doing so.

That’s when it began. As time passed by, Raph ordered thrifted copies of all the seven books of the Harry Potter books. He even read the scripts for Fantastic Beasts franchise and The Cursed Child. The guy simply couldn’t get enough. Who would’ve thought that this brute could plow through not only literal walls but through everything literary about Harry Potter in less than two months? Plus, he was able to keep his newfound interest from his brothers, except for Donnie of course.

So come mutation day when all the turtle brothers would gift each other presents, Donnie set up a computer just for Raph and installed for him Harry Potter: Magic Awakening, an online game where you could live out your own Hogwarts adventure.

Three days into the game, Raph met user: Ivanna Lucia, a first-year Hufflepuff with his own user: Hagrid Jr., a first-year Gryffindor. They met at Dance Club and they were the only two users on the server. You could say that they literally danced the night away. After reaching a Level 5 on Cloud Drop Waltz, they eventually accepted each other’s friend request and struck a conversation in their own private chat room.

Ivanna Lucia: hey! i just got invited to a quiz… do u want me to send u an invite?

Hagrid Jr: ok

And so it began. For many nights, Raph and user Ivanna kept in close contact. From duels to dances and escapades in Diagon Alley to adventures in the Forbidden Forest… Raph and his new friend became quite the unstoppable pair. In less than three months, they managed to reach Year 5 and then… it happened.

Ivanna Lucia: hey, we’ve been playing together for a long time… i’ve been thinkin…

Hagrid Jr: yeah?

Ivanna Lucia: we both live in nyc… do you wanna idk… meet up?

It took hours for Raph to reply back. A part of him wanted to enthusiastically say ‘yes’ and finally behold the face behind the avatar he had been imagining for months and another part of him just wanted to shut the game down then and there, and forget all about it. In truth, the prospect of meeting user Ivanna terrified Raph. He was a mutant turtle behind the guise of a male teenager avatar in a fantasy online game. She was an actual human who goes to university and plays gigs at bars. In his mind, Raph already knew the outcome of this prospective meeting and he did not like it one bit.

Hagrid Jr: I don’t think it’s a good idea. Sorry.

Ivanna Lucia: no worries hahaha

Raph was definitely worried. Especially when user Ivanna didn’t log in for the next five days.

Hagrid Jr: hey are you ok?

Five days ago ———————————————————-

Hagrid Jr: We’re still up for that quiz right?

Four days ago ———————————————————-

Hagrid Jr: Ill be at dance around 1800

Three days ago ———————————————————-

Hagrid Jr: Where r u? Im at the duel

Two days ago ————————————————————

Hagrid Jr: Are you mad at me?

Today ————————————————————————-

“Raph!” Donnie barged into his room. “We gotta go! Leo’s got his eye on a live kidnapping on some girl!”

“Are ya serious right now?!” Raph sighed glancing at the chat room, hoping a reply was waiting for him.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Donnie fumed, with Raph’s recent surge moodiness and Leo’s recent shift of focus, he was already on the brink of insanity trying to hold everything together... “Maybe I can tell Miss Sayuri Mizuno’s family that we couldn’t save her on the account of your little spat with your online girlfriend! Can we go now?! Oh my god I never thought I would ever say these words to you…”

Raph would never say it out loud but out of all his brothers… he fears Donnie the most.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃

Asa groaned, his messages staring at her from her screen — guilt eating at her from the inside out.

Hagrid Jr: Are you mad at me?

Two days ago—————————————————————

Asa couldn’t put into words what she felt. Of course she was mad at him, but at the same time… it wasn’t his fault. She tossed her phone aside and sought refuge under her sheets. Her brown-black locks were splayed across her pillow case, forming a halo around her face.

Ping.

It wasn’t user Hagrid Jr., but a message from one of her bandmates. She felt a little disappointed that it wasn’t user Hagrid Jr… he had been offline for two days now and had stopped sending messages. She felt even crappier when she deduced that it must be because she practically ghosted him. Asa sighed, setting a reminder on her phone. She’s going to apologize later, and she’s isn’t going to compose her apology last minute. On the bright side, her band’s gig at Seb’s had been canceled because of a conflict in scheduling… which meant a rewatching of the Half-Blood Prince with a mug of hot cocoa.

Ping.

Asa opened her phone so swiftly that she nearly knocked off her computer from her bed.

Pretty Lily 🪷: Hey, do mind getting my computer at my apartment for me?

Me: i seriously thought you were dead for a minute there

Pretty Lily 🪷: I’m sorry! Nursing school has really been a thorn in my side 😅

Me: okay, english lesson part 64, nobody says ‘thorn in my side,’ it’s ‘pain in my ass.’

Pretty Lily 🪷: Please 🥺

Me: gurl — i was literally just about to watch the half-blood prince

Pretty Lily 🪷: I’ll buy you boba next time we hang out on campus 🥺

Me: fine 😑 you’re a pain in the ass sometimes, you know?

Pretty Lily 🪷: You’re an even bigger pain the ass and I love you, ya know?

Me: man, i’d make a good english teacher. they’re on demand in japan, right?

Pretty Lily 🪷: 🤣🤣🤣

Me: where r u btw?

Pretty Lily 🪷: Weill Cornell

Me: you on clinicals rn?

Pretty Lily 🪷: Nope, I’m a patient

Me: your careful ass is a patient? what the hell did you do?

Pretty Lily 🪷: Well— I was kidnapped 😅

Me: that i can believe

Pretty Lily 🪷: Can you just bring my laptop over, please? 😑

After quickly putting on her headphones, a sweater, and her Doc Martens, Asa headed straight for a door and headed downstairs to hail a taxi.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃

“Hey,” Asa announced as she entered into the hospital room. In the corner, seated upright among the pristine sheets. A girl looked up from her journal, busying herself with a sketch.

“You’re a lifesaver Asa,” she sighed as Asa pulled out her laptop from her satchel… and a matcha milk tea with egg pudding, extra boba pearls, and half sugar.

“I could kiss you right now!”

“Alright Mizuno, keep it in your pants,” Asa chuckled as she poked a straw into her own order and sat at the edge of her bed. “Anything else you need, Sayuri?”

“Nope!” Sayuri grinned, closing her journal. From the corner of her eye, Asa glanced at the unusual sketch as it disappeared under its leather cover. It could just be the illusion of shape and light… but for some reason… it looked… inhuman.

“What happened to you, anyway?” Asa sipped at her drink.

“I was coming from a date with this new friend I made at the Asian mall—“

“And he offered you some candy and you walked right into his van?” Asa smirked.

“Oh hahaha,” Sayuri rolled her eyes. “For your information I was with a girl friend, her name’s April O’Neil.”

“That name sounds familiar for some reason—“

“She’s a reporter from Channel Five. I was helping her with a segment on Asian businesses. I got home late and the bad guys were already waiting for me at my apartment.”

“God— good thing you did karate, right?” Asa tried to humor her.

“That didn’t help one bit,” Sayuri sighed. “I was knocked out before I could even put up a fight.”

“How did you get out?”

“I was —“ Sayuri paused, as if carefully considering her words. A smile graced her lips as her hand fondly grazed over her journal. She was remembering something, and this did not go unnoticed by Asa.

“I was saved by… a-an agent of the NYPD,” Sayuri composed herself. “He had been staking out my area for a while and he happened to be there when I was kidnapped.”

Sayuri sighed.

“He tracked me all the way across Brooklyn Bridge… and he caught me as I fell off that helicopter…”

Asa looked at her quizzically. Sayuri was in a daze, her eyes were glossy and her lips let a breath with a sigh.

“… and held me as we fell into the Hudson.”

“That—“ Asa swallowed some boba pearls and swirled her drink. “Is some Romeo and Juliet shit, right there. Wait… You fell off of a fucking helicopter? Are you okay? Did you have a concussion? Is this where all of this is coming from?” Asa gestured to her dreamy state.

“Firstly I did have a concussion and I’ve recovered it thank you very much,” Sayuri replied. “Second, I got a few broken ribs and the scar on my forehead won’t probably go away anytime soon. Third, I’m not… really ashamed of feeling this way. He was caring—”

“Yeah,” Asa rolled her eyes. “Because it was his job and you’re a hottie. Give your heart a break. He’s going to be nice—“

“It wasn’t niceness!” Sayuri interjected. “Niceness is smiling and doing favors, because you want something in return. This was kindness. Trust me, when you’ve lived with nice all your life… you learn to look for kind.”

“Okay I believe you,” Asa smiled as she sat beside Sayuri and leaned against her shoulder. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, you know. Disappointment’s a bitch.”

Sayuri turned to Asa.

“You’re upset,” Sayuri remarked softly. “And it’s not about my thing.” Asa sighed.

“Asa, in the year that I’ve known you, I’ve learned two things. One, you’re a performer but you hate it when the spotlight is on you and not your singing. Two, you like to lock up your heart… and if I had to guess… it’s because someone you loved… let you down. Listen… you know that you can tell me your problems too, right?”

Asa stared into Sayuri’s iridescent, pale-grey irises. She really was a beautiful girl… sincere, brave, kind. If that agent of the NYPD had any brains, he would be here right now begging for a date.

“You’re not going to ruin your snarky, tough-woman persona for the one moment you let you really give heart your heart a break.” Sayuri assured her as nudged her shoulder.

“Fine,” Asa relented, avoiding her stare. “A few months ago… I started playing — this game… online Harry Potter game. And well — I met this… g-guy.”

Asa looked at Sayuri who nodded reassuringly as she rested her chin against the palm of her hand.

“And… he’s really sweet,” Asa sighed beginning to recall one of their many conversations…

Hagrid Jr: Your off your game tonight, you ok? you really sucked at that last duel

Ivanna Lucia: ur quite the charmer, aren’t you? -_-

Hagrid Jr: I didn’t mean it in a bad way

Hagrid Jr: Your usually so good at duels that bombing hard like that just happen to make me notice

Ivanna Lucia: wow i feel so much better

Hagrid Jr: Your extra sarcastic tonight, so I definitely know your upset.

Ivanna Lucia: ya think?!

Ivanna Lucia: first of all it’s ‘you’re’ not your. second, i did have a crappy day okay?! i failed an exam by a point, so now i have to work extra hard on the finals to bring my grade up. third, some drunk threw a beer bottle at me while we were performing and i had to pull glass out of my arm! give me a fucking break!

Asa remembered shutting her computer so hard that day that she thought she heard her screen fracture under impact. She didn’t have the courage to log back on until the following day. As she took on challenges in the Forbidden Forest, she couldn’t help but glance repeatedly on her socials notification that was marked with that prominent red circle. After taking on the boss beast after so many attempts, Asa finally found it in herself to open her messages.

Hagrid Jr: Look, I kinda used the wrong words back there and… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to set you off like that. I know cause I kinda do it to my brothers, sometimes.

Hagrid Jr: There’s nothing much I can do and we’re technically strangers but… you mean a lot to me so I just want to let you know that even if ya cant change your crappy day… your feelings will change and hopefully for the better.

Hagrid Jr: You’re worth is not defined by that exam and you’re potential is definitely not determined by that no-good- low-life who drinks just to feel somethin.’ Maybe you’re a serial killer… hell if I know— but if you were ever true and from what I see… you’re an amazing person.

Hagrid Jr: So in the event you get your ass online, meet me for a team duel. NYC’s top spot is still up for grabs.

Hagrid Jr: P.S. check your decks, I think you’ll find something you might like.

He had gotten her Percival’s deck, the most lethal hand of charms and curses you’ll ever need to defeat any opponent and it comes with quite the price tag.

“He asks me about my day, he cares if I’ve eaten or not, he tells me when I’m sleeping too late, and remembers my deadlines,” Asa sighed, shaking her head. “This guy… is unlike any other I’ve known — and trust me I’ve had my fair share of assholes.”

“Nearly a week ago…” Asa gulped. “I asked him if we could meet up… and he said no…”

“Asa…” Sayuri rubbed her shoulder.

“I was just so-“ Asa bit back a sob. “So-so… hurt. I thought — just thought that just maybe… “

“He liked you back.” Sayuri finished. A tear traced Asa’s cheek.

“Now because of these stupid feelings… I pushed him away! And now… he— he’s not sending messages anymore…”

“Asa, I’m sure it’ll be okay if you just talk to him-“

“No it won’t!” Asa burst, and took a breathe. “Look, I come from a line of women who married assholes. My grandfather left my grandmother and started a whole ‘nother family, so she had to move here to make just enough to take care of my mom. My dad used to beat my mom until the day she couldn’t take it anymore and left him. This guy — is not an asshole. I don’t want him to be the one that got away — or maybe I’ll just never have a guy. I-I mean — who needs love…right?”

For a moment Asa just sat there with her knees drawn to her chest and her eyes cast away from Sayuri’s. Sayuri stared at the back of her head. Asa was her first official friend in New York. When they first met, Sayuri remembered being so stunned by her when they first bumped into each other on campus. She has these doe eyes that will make you think she’s a sweet little thing, and then these lips that can light a fire under your ass if you’re not careful. To boot, she also happens to have a set of fists you don’t wanna get in a fight with. She has a dark humor and a bright disposition. She was… a kaleidoscope encased in honeyed skin and darks locks like ocean waves… So how can someone so colorful have such a bleak perception of love?

“Asa De Leon,” Sayuri sighed. “Whether you like it or not… you need love. And you are worthy of it. It doesn’t matter if its from this guy or… from this friend…”

Asa looked up at her.

“Go talk to him,” Sayuri smiled. “Nothing’s set in stone, yet… and I get it you know… about keeping your heart locked up…But you don’t always have to keep it this way.

Asa swallowed.

“Let yourself love, Asa… and if you get hurt… I’ll be here. Your mom and your grandmother will be here. Regardless of whether or not this guy is your endgame, you’re a hottie too. Inside and out. You’ll find someone… and he’ll be right for you.”

Sayuri embraced her slumped form.

“You’re extra sappy today, you know that?”

“And she’s back,” Sayuri muttered.

“You must be really whipped for this so-called ‘agent of the NYPD’… What’s his name, anyway?”

Asa could feel her hesitation slowly slipping away.

“Leo,” she whispered as if it were a secret that would disappear as soon as she uttered it loudly.

“Sounds like a dreamboat,” Asa teased as Sayuri rolled her eyes. They laughed together.

Dusk fell quickly over the city and Sayuri insisted Asa to stay the night. Asa ordered some pizza, sushi and some more boba, and put on Insidious on her computer afterwards. Halfway through the movie, Sayuri was already so blissfully asleep.

When the credits rolled in, Asa was just about to call it a night when she glanced quickly at the app, looking once more for that red circle… for any notification that indicated him.

“God I’m pathetic,” Asa groaned as she finally double clicked on the app.

She opened their chatroom, and took a deep breath in.

And then out.

Ivanna Lucia: hey, u up?

He was online.

Hagrid Jr: hey

Hagrid Jr: u alright?

Ivanna Lucia: d’you mind if we talk?

Hagrid Jr: not at all

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃

How do you think their paths will cross?

Stay tuned for part 2! Let me know if you wanna be on my taglist 💕✨

[iubians]

Cloud Computing Quiz - Basics Fundamentals MCQs With Answers

Cloud Computing Quiz – Basics Fundamentals MCQs With Answers

Cloud Computing Quiz  – MCQs Question with Answer Basic Fundamentals are specially designed for Undergraduate Students to Prepare for Different Kind of Competitive exams for jobs like Lecturer and also for BSCS, and BSIT Exams so let’s Start Prepare Now Cloud Computing Quiz 1. Library-level virtualization is also known as. A. User-level virtualization B. Microsoft-level virtualization C. OS-level…

[defaulttwig]

Pick a Color

Bruce Wayne x gn!reader

Summary: You can’t sleep and decide to keep Bruce company on his ride back to the cave. Unfortunately for him, you know how to work the comms.

WC: 1.8k

A/N: this is so dumb but sometimes dumb fics are fun (gif: pov you’re abusing comm privileges to talk to Bruce about random things and he’s had a long night)

The overhead lights flickered to life after you flicked the switch. You took one step forward, wrapping your blanket tightly around yourself. A small cloud formed in front of you and you shivered.

Taking a long look up and down the place, you swept your gaze over this sight. Off to the side, the motorcycle leaned on its brake. Beside it was an empty space. So, he took the car this time around. Stepping further into the room, you ambled your way to the computer.

You turned it on, pulling out the chair and curling up on it. The screen took a moment to come to life. Once it did, the sight of the batmobile's steering wheel blessed your eyes. You flicked a switch on the microphone attached to the computer and pulled it toward yourself.

The screeching as it slid across the surface did not go unnoticed. Briefly, the view on the screen flicked to the touchscreen on the dash, displaying a blue screen and a clock, before it turned back to the road. You waited, not quite ready to make the first sound.

Neither was he, it seemed. The hands on the wheel shifted and curled tighter around it. Faintly, you heard the low sound of his music, a sure sign he was done for the night. He no longer needed to focus and could use the few minutes in his car as a time to wind down before he got here and returned to whatever priority he had at hand.

"What are you doing up?" His voice came through softly with a sharp edge to it.

You gave it a minute to permeate in the air before you responded. "How'd you know it was me?"

He ignored your question. "It's five in the morning."

Under the statement was a repeat of his first words. What were you doing up? You fell back into the chair and pulled the blanket tighter around you. No matter how you answered, he'd know the truth.

"Would you believe me if I said I'm an early bird now?" You smiled wryly to yourself.

"You should be in bed." He let out a sharp sigh. "You shouldn't even be there."

"Well, I am." You pulled your phone out from inside your blanket cloak, inputting your password. "I wanted to keep you company until Alfred gets up."

"I didn't ask for your company." A moment of silence passed where you both let that sink in. He tapped his thumb on the wheel. "Go to sleep. You've been up all night."

"No," you blurted. "I'm staying right here."

He knew better than to try again. Your stubbornness wore him out on top of the long night he had. He sighed but made no counter.

You let the silence drag on, listening to the sound of his music and the rumbling of the car over the speakers. Flicking through your phone, you ended up on a quiz site. You fell into a state of comfort, curled on the chair while hearing him simply exist. It almost felt like you were with him in there.

Bruce's voice broke you out of your reverie. "What are you doing right now?"

You hummed. "Just sitting here. It's cold down here by the way. You should do something about it."

"Get a blanket."

"I have one right now." You finished your quiz, learning that your favorite type of bread meant your soulmate was currently thinking about you. Gee whiz, that was a crazy coincidence. Maybe soulmates did exist. "Are you bored?"

"I'm not bored." If anything, he sounded just below the bar from annoyed.

You skimmed through other quizzes.

"Pick a color and find out how you get arrested," you read aloud. Sheesh. Not the strangest quiz you found. "Bruce, want to-"

"No."

You snickered at the blunt rejection. "You have nothing better to do."

In retaliation, the music cranked up on his end. You pouted at the drums exiting the speakers. So, he wanted to be that way, huh. Well, it wasn't like he hadn't tried this before.

You clicked the quiz, opting to take it for him. The first options were between orange and blue. You mulled over the colors. Truthfully, if you had to pick any color to match Bruce inside and out, it'd probably be black or gray. The guy could use some color in his life though.

"You don't seem like an orange guy," you said. He didn't respond. "Then again, I'd like to see you wear bright orange."

"Prison uniform," he countered.

You raised a brow. "That's your response to that? Fine. Orange is too gaudy for your complexion anyway." You hummed and clicked blue.

Next, purple and red. "You know, purple was used as a symbol of royalty. And, you're considered the prince of Gotham."

He cranked the music louder.

"Red matches you more, I'd say." You rambled to yourself, hoping for a reaction. "It's symbolic of the sacrifices you made." You made yourself more comfortable in the chair. "The throes of passion you not only put into your work but the passionate lover that you are not."

The music turned down a little. "What?"

You smiled. "What?"

"Passionate lover?"

"That you are not," you concluded. "I mean, that's what I'm picking up right now at least." Silence, apart from the music. "What, you want purple instead?"

He sighed.

"Okay. Red." You clicked the latter option. "For the record, I think you are a generous lover. Very good at giving. All the models you've been with before have praised you for it. Remember that Becca woman with the nice legs? She told me that you-"

"What are the options now?"

You paused. For a moment, you forgot what you were doing. "Right." You looked at your phone. "Yellow and pink. Huh, that's a tough choice. I can't picture either color on you."

Your gaze roamed over the surface of the table. Apart from housing the computer and a few scattered papers, you found yellow sticky notes scrawled in chicken scratch and small doodles. From when you left random messages anytime you sat here. You tried to picture Bruce with them.

That was as close to yellow as you could think. You clicked the option and moved on. White or grey.

"Are you more of a white kind of guy, or grey?"

Bruce hummed. "What'd you pick for the last one?"

"Huh?" You didn't expect him to care about that. "Yellow."

A silence fell over that had you wait for a response. On the camera feed, he turned his gaze from the road to the wheel.

"Grey."

Not that you expected him to pick white. Your phone displayed a light gray, but if you had to guess you were certain his mind was set on a darker gray. It suited him.

"Okay. The next colors are brown and taupe. Think a more earthy, subtle brown. If you know what I mean. And taupe is, bland."

"Brown."

"That's what I was thinking." Lastly, the final choices. "Black or green."

His answer lacked hesitation. "Black."

You glanced up at the camera feed. His headlights were on and from the grainy picture, you could see a tunnel. He was close now. You turned back to your phone and read the result.

"Tax evasion." You snorted the moment the words came out.

Bruce, however, did not laugh. He remained silent while you giggled about it.

"That's how they got Al Capone."

"I'm not like Al Capone." His voice edged with frustration. He turned his music off completely. "Get off the computer."

Before you could respond, he cut the audio feed. Dead silence greeted you, not the sound of the engine or his breathing. You raised a brow and leaned toward the mic.

"Bruce? Did you turn me off?" The lack of reaction gave you your answer. You scoffed playfully. "Wow. I hope you're doing your taxes."

The camera feed displayed the nearing entrance to the bat cave. You slumped in the chair and turned it toward the growing sound of a car. The sleek, black vehicle appeared through the tunnel moments later. It pulled to a stop in its usual place.

You wrapped the blanket tighter around you as the driver got out.

Batman had his back turned to you. Shoulders taut, head lowered, he sighed deeply. The cowl slipped off before he turned to you. Holding it to his chest, he gazed at you with hooded eyes. If it weren't for the smudged makeup around his eyes, you'd say there was some baggage there. And not just the emotional kind.

He ambled leisurely toward you. Stare hard and you might've noticed the slight limp in his step. He stopped at the foot of the chair, where you curled your legs to your chest, and crossed his arms. You tried to lighten the mood with a smile.

He sighed again, closing his eyes. "Go to bed."

You dropped your smile, immediately defensive. "You first."

"I'm not going to repeat myself."

You turned your attention back to your phone. "I'm not the one who should be worried about tax evasion."

Bruce grabbed the armrests and lowered himself to your height. You shrunk under his hard gaze. He was tired. He had a long night. And here he was trying to get you to go to sleep.

Before you could muster up the words to voice the hypocrisy, sharp steps echoed into the cave. You both tensed and gave each other a look. What time was it?

"I believe you both should be in bed at this hour." Alfred appeared in your peripheral, gripping his cane with a stern look. "It's a little early for this, don't you think?"

You gulped, snapping your gaze to Alfred while Bruce relaxed. He dropped his head tiredly before pulling away from you. Gripping the blanket, you slipped out of the chair to stand beside Bruce.

"Good morning, Alfred," you said.

"Wish I could say the same. Off you go." He gestured to the exit with his cane. "Need all the rest you can get."

Bruce wasn't as willing as you were. "The case-"

"I'll tend to the case." Alfred shook his head. "You can trust me to find whatever it is you're after. You go get some shut-eye."

With a little more stern gazing, Alfred managed to crack Bruce's facade. He relented, hurrying to change into appropriate clothes for outside the cave. You waited by the steps with not much else to do. You weren't tired still. And you wouldn't be until you were in bed with Bruce.

Alfred shook his head as the two of you finally meandered upstairs. "Like a couple of raccoons." He called out as an afterthought, "breakfast will be left in the bedroom for when you wake."

Before disappearing completely, the two of you muttered in unison, "thank you, Alfred."

[binniesthighs]

hi!! i rly liked your first writing it was so cute and you described jisung so well too! can i request a friends to lovers with han? kinda slow burn like they're really good friends but jisung gets jealous of her close friend and reader secretly likes him too but she doesnt wanna ruin the things between them so... one day they get into a fight and they end up making out😳 bc shes like "wtf we're friends" smut is ok but just a make out would be fine too the details r up to u💗

why yes you can! Thank you for requesting hehe you are my first ask ever  ♡ I hope that you like it, here’s some best friend ‘sungie for ya :)   

all yours | reader x jisung |

Paring: self-insert, female reader x han jisung

Genre: fluff ‘n a lil bit of smut & angst  

Tags: student!reader, bestfriend!jisung, lab partner!felix (haha), friends to lovers, mutual pining, best friend au, college au, jealousy, slow-ish burn, mentions of exams, some yelling, reader is secretly whipped for jisung (and jisung for the reader), explicit language, marking, that good good makin’ out

Word count: 2.4k

“Hey!”

The little ball of paper that you had crinkled up bounced off Jisung’s arm with a soft pat.

“What happened to studying together? You said that you were gonna quiz me.”

Jisung’s eyes popped up from his phone screen looking a little bewildered. “Sorry, I just...got a little distracted.

“Distracted? Looking at what?”

“Oh, nothing.” He placed his phone down, clicking it off.

“Is “nothing” code for some girl’s Instagram?” You dished him out a teasing smirk. “I think you forget that I know you better than you know yourself sometimes.”

Jisung shuffled the papers in front of him pretending like he had something to do. “Psh. I was not.”

“--Does she go to school here?”

“I told you, I said no.” He furrowed his brow trying to look as serious as possible, but that was nearly impossible for someone as naturally adorable as him. “Why are you drilling me? Aren’t you supposed to be doing some work right now?”

“~So are you~” You teasingly sang back to him, giving him a kick under the table just for good measure.

Jisung threw your balled up paper ball back to you. “Let’s just get back to what we were doing so we can leave. I don’t wanna end up like him.”

He nodded over to the end of your table where a student had fallen asleep mid-chapter. His nose twitched and he snorted a little bit. You knew exactly what Jisung meant, you didn’t want to be at the library at 11pm on a Tuesday either; it was your better judgement that told you.

“Can we get food after this?” Jisung asked after approximately five minutes of “working.”

“Sounds good to me.” You quipped, barely allowing your eyes to leave your computer screen. You found that you always had to try you best to let him not distract you. He was really good at that.

You slid a stack of index cards in front of him. “Ask me these? I’m having a hard time getting the Latin names down...if you’re not busy?”

“Nope!” He piped, and shoved his notebook away.

“Okay!” He said with determination and a little bounce. He fixed his oversized hoodie before starting, looking adorably lost in the fabric.

He asked you the first question, but it barely met your ears. There you were, getting distracted by him again.

screw you Han Jisung, you thought to yourself.

☆。*。☆。

“I just don’t understand how you make sense of all that crap, I could never be a science major like you are.”

“--And I could never understand production like you do.”

“And this is why we work.” Jisung grinned with smiling eyes while he opened the library door for you. “I’m starving, I can’t stop thinking about--”

“--Y/n??” A voice called from behind the two of you.

The two of you whipped your heads back to see a loveable looking blonde and freckled boy bounding to catch up with you. It was Felix, your lab partner from zoology. The two of you were nothing more than classroom friends, but his friendly kindness was always something that brightened up your terrible 9 am lab.

“Felix!” You beamed, holding the door so it wouldn’t close on him. “Are you here studying for the exam as well?”

“Oh yeah, I just...my brain couldn’t take it any more,” He sarcastically mimed his head pains, “I just need to get some sleep now.”

“I just don’t get how they expect us to know all of those phyla like its nothing.”

“I know right?’ He chuckled.

Next to you, Jisung silently poked at the elevator button to go down.

“Is it alright if I head down with you guys?”

“Of course!” You motioned him in.

Once the doors had closed, the three of you found a different corner of the small box to plant yourselves in.

“shit-sorry, Felix, I didn’t introduce you, this is Jisung.”

“Hi!” Felix shone, and Jisung gave him a curt nod back.

Felix waved to two of you goodbye, leaving you in the nighttime snow. You noticed that as Felix walked away he had a little bounce to his step; and you couldn’t help but crack a little smile.

“Our usual?” Jisung asked you with a little edge to his voice.

You linked your arm around his, letting out a little shrill sound when the fabric of your two coat sleeves met. “Sounds good to me!” You nuzzled up into him while both of your bodies’ heat intermingled.

The two of you walked on under the streetlights which illuminated the falling flakes in streams of light. You never loosened your grip, as had become your habit lately when the two of you walked around. Jisung never seemed to mind; the two of you had been mistaken for a couple more than enough times thanks to it. When it did happen, it didn’t phase you at all. Being close to Jisung was like second nature to you.

The whole walk over Jisung never uttered a word, which was uncharacteristic of his usual boisterous self.

“Is everything okay?”

He sniffled, “Yeah, I think I just got kinda tired out of nowhere.”

“Ah.” You mouthed, and squeezed his arm a little harder.

After a moment’s silence, he somberly announced, “If you’re in the same class as him, maybe you should study with him.”

“Huh.” You tsked. “Yeah, I mean I never thought about that before...I guess that could do me some good.”

You looked slightly up to him: a product of him being slightly taller than you. His brown eyes remained stoic, and you couldn’t figure out why. You hated it when he wouldn’t tell you what was wrong, but he was also stubborn at letting up.

“But thank you for helping me tonight! You know that I reeealy appreciate it.” You turned your tone as cutesy as you could--Jisung hated it, but you knew that it could bring a smile to his face.

His gaze softened a bit. “Anytime. You’d do the same for me.”

☆。*。☆。

Jisung rested his head on your shoulder on the bus ride home with his phone weakly held in his hand. One more bump in the road and you knew that it would go flying so you carefully took it into your own lap where it would be safe. You wouldn’t dare moving an inch because you had a feeling that he had closed his eyes. Time had slipped past 1am, and you had to keep fighting yawns yourself. The bus driver had been blasting the heat, so it wasn’t hard at all for you to feel cozy.

You glanced down at his open hand in his lap. It looked exactly like he was beckoning for you to scoop it up in your own. You wondered what what happen if you did. What would he think of it? Would he think anything of it? You had held hands before, but every time you had it had been under purely platonic pretenses. If you just grabbed it now, what would the pretenses be then? The two of you cozied up on a bus: that was something that couples did.

You shut your eyes closed tightly and tried your best to banish all the thoughts clouding your head.

Jisung’s hand twitched, looking even more inviting.

screw you Han Jisung.

☆。*。☆。

[7:14pm]

jisung: you want to come over? Changbin is cooking and i don’t wanna eat whatever he’s making alone

[7:31pm]

me: sorry, I’m studying with Felix at the library, I think that we are gonna be here late. It’s all the Latin, I’m drowning in the Latin, Sung.

I’m sorry.

see you Friday once I’m out of this hell?

[7:34pm]

jisung: see you friday.

☆。*。☆。

You pounded on the door to Jisung’s apartment with your phone in hand, the white screen showing you the number that you had worked so hard for.

“Open the door!” You called giddily. “Jisung! I know that you’re in here, we need to celebrate! ~I can treat youuu~”

Just as you were about to knock again, the door swung open, revealing a wet haired Jisung in his grey sweats and tee. His brown strands of hair were scattered around his head while he rubbed at them with a towel.

“Shit! Can’t I shower?” He jested.

It took all your will power not to ogle him more. He looked devastatingly handsome, but you swallowed down how utterly flustered he had made you.

You cleared your throat, “Uh...sorry...” then remembered your phone in your hand. “I got a 96! Can you believe it! I’m even surprised too, when I was taking the test I just got so nervous...”

“All that studying paid off huh?” He cockily rose an eyebrow. “You can go ahead and thank me now, without my help...” He shrugged with a grin.

You invited yourself in and threw your bag down at the door like you usually did.

“Thank youuu” You sung. “Oh! And studying with Felix really paid off too.” You took off your shoes, thinking of how nice it had been to finally study with someone who knew your class topics. Not that Jisung wasn’t helpful, but you and Felix were on the same page. “He knew it all way more than I did, so he was super helpful. I forgot to text him--”

Jisung closed the door behind you with a slam that made you jump. He moved away from you, not meeting your eyes. The air around the two of you suddenly became thick with something that did not feel as excited as you just were.

“...do you wanna maybe watch a movie?” You moved closer. “Or we could get some deliv--”

“--Why even bother coming over here?” Jisung suddenly huffed.

“What?”

Jisung’s words flew out of his mouth sharply, “If he was so helpful? What are you doing here, huh?”

“Jisung, I don’t understand...” Your heartbeat quickened in your chest and you felt anxiety swell there as well. Jisung never spoke to you like this. He never sounded like this.

He growled out a little sound in frustration. “I-I just...can’t believe you--”

“--Me? Jisung, what did I do?” You threw your arms up, genuinely confused.

He ran his fingertips over his temples and let out a deep exhale. “Y/n, don’t pretend like you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Your temper started to become seething and you felt your ears get hot. “Tell me Jisung. Tell me what I did. And while you’re at it, what has been up with you these past few days? Being short with me, and distant, yeah-I’ve noticed...what are you doing??”

Jisung heaved breaths in and out of his chest, then ran a hand through his hair. He still couldn’t meet your eyes.

For a moment, a flash of panic surged in your head, making your heart ache with an unexpected pain. You truly didn’t know what he had meant, and if you had made a mistake, you knew it could mean loosing him. God, that was the last thing in the world you wanted. It always was.

“If I did something wrong tell me because clearly I don’t know!!” You yelled back at him, straining your throat.

He walked up to you, then grabbed your shoulders with a firm grip. Finally, you saw his eyes, brown and soft, holding a type of pain that you hadn’t seen in him before.

screw you, Han Jisung.

“Jisung, I--”

You were shoved by the shoulders in milliseconds to the door behind you, the impact nearly knocking the wind out of you. You gasped in your surprise, but your mouth was immediately shut by Jisung ramming his lips into yours. His hands needily took your face into his palms with his mouth blazing with hunger for you.

It took you a moment to realize what had just happened and steady yourself after being so startled. His lips were so soft and warm, your brain had a hard time recognizing that he was really doing this. His haste made no indication of stopping so you let yourself do what you had wanted to do for years: you kissed him back with everything that you had.

As soon as you did so, he let out little desperate moans between your lips in response. You let your arms wrap around his back and he fell into them just right. Naturally you took one of your hands to the back of his head and tangled up your fingers in his hair. God, it all felt so good. Jisung snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you into him with force, crashing your hips together.

The two of you clumsily made your way to the couch where he threw you down and crawled over top of you just as fast. He moved to your neck then traversed around your skin, sending shivers all through your body. Your hands eagerly found his back where you dug into him, wanting to be impossibly close. To your side, he carefully took your hand in his, weaving all of your fingers together.

Jisung pressed down into you and began to suck at your neck without holding himself back. It was such an intense feeling that couldn’t help but moan out something you didn’t know you could. You felt his mouth turn into a grin on your skin while he continued. It stung a little when he removed his lips, but he gently kissed each mark as if he was soothing it once he was done. He stopped to admire the little array of purple bruises he had made.  

“I want you all to myself.”  Jisung’s voice was hoarse, but still honey-covered in desire.

“What are we doing?” You asked him in breathless disbelief.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He whispered, and appeared to calm his breaths. “I don’t care.”

"You don’t?”

“Why should I?” He cocked his head and used his free hand to caress your face.

“--That this could change things between us?”

“You don’t want it too?” He looked a little confused.

You felt a warmth rush to your cheeks.  “--No! I do, I do...trust me.”

“Then can I kiss you some more?” Jisung grinned down at you as loving as he always had, but this time it meant something slightly different.

“...please.”

He lowered back onto you, connecting your lips once more. Jisung’s tongue languidly smoothed onto yours and you already felt intoxicated by the feeling. You tightened your fingers around his.

I’ve always been yours.

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Two: Truth

Author's note: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: allusions to sex, mention of trauma

Word count: 4,400>

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Two - Next

"Can I help you?" you jumped when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You spun around on your heel, diverting your attention from the man on the television to the petite blonde girl who was doting a pale pink pant suit. Her blue eyes seemed friendly enough, but her expression of bewilderment and slight disdain was enough to make you uncomfortable. Your lips parted slightly as you tried to gather your words.

"I'm… I'm looking for someone," you said hesitantly. You turned back around to watch the television, pressing the palm of your hand against the screen and watching him with awe. You weren't sure if you were more flabbergasted by this brand new technology, or by the handsome man who was attempting to sell you oil.

"You're going to have to be more specific," the woman placed a hand on her hip and quirked her eyebrow.

"My friend Alistair…" you said slowly before shaking your head and smiling. "Do you know this man?" you pointed at the television.

The blonde woman looked completely and utterly perplexed. "Mr Lord?" she asked. Her mind was racing: everyone knew who her boss was. She pondered for a moment, questioning who exactly you were and where did you come from before shaking her head profusely. "Wait, I’m sorry. Did you just say Alistair?" she pinched the bridge of her nose and began to circle around you, taking in your appearance; judging your native Amazonian outfit and muddy skin.

"Yes, Alistair. We met in the park earlier," you explained. "Please excuse the dirt on my body."

"Mr Lord’s son…?" the lady said, speaking her thoughts out loud. No woman had ever come to Black Gold Cooperative requesting to see Alistair, note even his own mother. "Who are you?"

You smiled politely, taking the lady's hand. "I'm here to help. Where can I find Mr Lord?"

"Do you have an appointment with him?" the lady in pink asked, walking around the main desk and checking the computer. "I'm his secretary by the way. My name is Raquel." she mumbled as she pressed a few keys.

You introduced yourself and shook her hand, admiring her beautifully manicured nails. "An appointment?" you repeated. "No, not really. He doesn’t know I’m coming.”

“Mr Lord is a very busy man,” Raquel sighed, tapping her manicured acrylic nails against the oak wood desk. “He doesn’t do surprise visits.”

“That’s okay, I wish to see Alistair anyway. I must know if he’s okay.” your body was still rife with concern over what you had witnessed happen to the little boy earlier at the playpark, and how he had disappeared.

“There is no way for me to contact Alistair, he’s just a child… but uh, let me see what I can do.” Raquel sighed, knowing she wasn’t easily going to get rid of you anytime soon. “I can give Mr Lord a call and let him know you wish to see him,” she told you, ringing in his phone number. “Can I ask what your business with him is?”

“I’m here to help him,” you repeated with an eager grin.

“Right,” Raquel said slowly as you turned back to the television, admiring the man with the dark blonde hair, sporting the three piece designer suits. “Help him with what?”

You blinked momentarily, watching this Mr Lord drone on and on and on. “Oil.” you practically squeaked out.

“Oil?” Raquel questioned, not believing you for one minute. She had every right inkling to believe you were dangerous, but it was her job to contact Maxwell in this type of situation, no matter what. You squeezed your eyes shut almost sensing her disbelief when you heard her speak again. Her voice had changed completely, high pitched and almost articulated. “Oh, yes, hi! Mr Lord! There is someone here who wishes to see you.”

Thank the Gods he’d picked up the phone before Raquel could quiz you further.

Maxwell had answered from the car phone. He’d just dropped Alistair off at Julianna and Theodore’s home. It was never fun, having to go see his wife. He wanted to be strong, and he certainly wanted to keep his promise to Alisitar, about spending the whole weekend together - but there was too much at stake. He knew that deep down, Alisitair would understand one day. Maxwell cursed himself for messing up so quickly. The phone rang just as Maxwell slid back into the car. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Max huffed a sigh and held the phone to his ear. “Who is it?” Maxwell asked wearily. “If it’s the FBI or the FTC…”

Maxwell was nervous. He was even confused that Raquel was still at Black Gold, still happy to work for him after he did commit what potentially could be classified as war crimes. Maxwell was a realist and he knew that with every action, came a consequence. The world had never been kind to him, and he looked down at the envelope that Theodore had handed to him. His name, Maxwell Lorenzano, was written on the front in Julianna’s perfectly inked calligraphy. Max hated it. He didn’t have his name legally changed fifteen years ago just so his ex wife could throw his old identity back in his face. He hated his real name. It was a constant reminder of his past life. But now he didn’t know what was worse, being a Lord or a Lorenzano. The name Lorenzano had been tainted for him, by his family, and years of bullying. But the name Lord? He’d tainted that himself. A conman. A stupid, messed up loser. Julianna hadn’t wanted to see Maxwell, and instead sent her new boyfriend to collect Alistair from him.

“Julianna wants you to have this,” Theodore said with a frown, taking Alistair’s hand and pulling him away from Maxwell. “When you read through it, give her a call.” was all he said before slamming the front door in Max’s face. Max didn’t know what was inside the envelope, but he knew it couldn’t be good.

“No, it’s not the FBI or the FTC. It’s a woman,” Raquel said hesitantly. “She… she’s a bit odd,” Raquel whispered, but not quiet enough for it to go unnoticed by you. Nevertheless, you pretended to ignore her comment. Perhaps you were odd, and perhaps that was okay. The world of man was not something you were used to. But you were here for a reason. The delay in Maxwell’s response prompted Raquel to say more. “Mr Lord… I don’t think she’s going to leave without seeing you. Would you like me to call the cops?”

“No!” Maxwell practically barked. He turned on the engine of his car and held the phone between his ear and shoulder, reversing out of the driveway. He didn’t know what was going on, it was too early to tell - but Maxwell couldn’t have the police anywhere near Black Gold. There was a good chance the police might be looking for him anyway. There was a good chance Max believed he might even have to go into hiding. “I’m on my way.” Maxwell promised before putting the phone down.

You turned back to Raquel when you heard the phone click back onto the hook. “Well, he’s coming,” she shrugged. “Just take a seat please. He won’t be long.”

You walked over to the centre of the lobby where there was a long circular velveteen sofa with a silver foiled surface. You ran your finger over the material, savouring the soft feeling. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before. You let out a small gasp when you noticed your gladiator sandals had trailed in mud and made a mess of the pristine marble floor. You knew it wouldn’t take much to clean, but you still felt bad.

The lobby of Black Gold Cooperative was large, with pillars similar to what they’d have in the Themysciran palace back home and vases of white roses decorating every corner. You wiped down your skirt and tunic, not wanting to be responsible for any more mess, and sat down on the sofa. You groaned as the velveteen plush engulfed you. You couldn’t help it, Raquel was gone and you were exhausted after spending the day looking for Alistair. You hummed in contentment, unbuckling the leather straps on your shoes and laying down on the sofa, curling up and closing your eyes.

Everything was dull. The sky was grey, dark and rainy clouds casting a cold shadow over your shoulders. This was weird. Normally your dreams would be utter and complete blackness - the inability to see anything, only hear the chaos that surrounded you. Only hear the cries and pleas for help and terror - and his voice. The man you were soughting for. You wondered if upon venturing to the world of man, your premonitions had stopped. But that didn’t make any sense. You were one step closer to finding this mystery man.

In the distance, you saw a group of kids tormenting and teasing another little boy. The image reflected what you had seen earlier at the playpark with Alistair, but it was different children this time. “What are you wearing?” you heard one boy mock as you ran closer. “Look at your shoes! Little Lorenzano can’t even afford new shoes!” a different girl cackled.

Lorenzano. You stopped dead in your footsteps, your eyes widening as you watched the group of kids disband, leaving the little boy with glazed brown eyes and ripped clothes shaking with fear. Lorenzano was the name of the man you were looking for - the man you had to help. Your mother Hestia had helped you learn that, but you had never seen him before. This Lorenzano was just a child. There was no way he could have a son.

You took a deep breath and reached out. “Sweet boy?” you called, taking a cautious step forward. Little Lorenzano didn’t even flinch. “Hello?” you asked again. You got as close as you could to him, walking around in circles and taking in his appearance, but he didn’t even notice you. It was almost like he couldn’t see you.

That’s when you realised you weren’t in a dream. You were in a memory. And suddenly everything made sense. This broken little boy was in fact the same person you were looking for. But now, he was a broken man who was desperately trying to make things right. Desperately trying to turn his life around. You’d seen a fleck of his past and you wondered if he was anything like that now. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you had to find him.

There was no way of telling how long you were asleep for, but when you heard Maxwell Lord’s voice, you couldn’t distinguish it from your dream or reality. It was so familiar, so rich and articulate.

“Jesus Christ,” Maxwell muttered, pacing backwards and forwards before turning back to you and prodding a finger into your bare arm. “Wake up.” he said sternly, his voice a little louder than before. You yawned, bringing your hands up to your eyes and giving them a gentle rub before sitting up and looking at the man.

It was him. The same man you had seen on the television. Only there was something not that right. You couldn’t put your finger on it. You grinned, your eyes gleaming with delight as you stood up and cupped your hands around his face, squeezing his cheeks and getting as close as you could. You touched him and maneuvered his body in different ways, lifting his arms up and brushing down his shoulders. He was broader than any Amazonian woman, and that said a lot. Surprisingly, Maxwell became putty in your grip. He would’ve never have expected it, but he just let you mould him and sculpt him in any which way you pleased. You traced his skin with your fingers, taking in every detail. It was certainly the man from the television - but this version of Maxwell Lord looked more tired and disheveled. His hair wasn’t perfectly styled and he wasn’t fitted into a perfectly pressed suit. But he was still just as remarkable and there was something about his presence that simply took your breath away.

He could say the same about you, too. He was completely stunned by you. Your beauty was incomparable to anyone else he’d ever seen. You almost looked out of this world. He was quick to shrug off his fascination with you, boiling it down to the fact you were covered in dirt and dressed in the strangest costume. He had more important things to worry about… like Alistair and whatever was in that damn envelope Theodore had given him.

“You’re a man,” you whispered in disbelief.

“I- what?” Maxwell asked, furrowing his eyebrows together.

“A real man,” you gasped, running your fingers through his dark blonde hair. Maxwell had to push back a longing groan, as your touch went straight to his semi-hard and already throbbing manhood. He gulped, diverting his gaze from your beautiful eyes.

“Do I- do I not look like a real man?” he asked curiously, ignoring the shudder that felt like it was swallowing him whole.

“Themyscrian depictions of man illustrate a strong, tall, muscular fellow who carries a sword and shield,” You explained, biting your lip and placing the palm of your hand over his chest. You could feel his beating heart under your touch and it almost took your breath away. You dragged your hand down to the curve of his tummy and Maxwell felt his cheeks heat up with insecurity. He never let anyone touch him like this. “They were naked too.”

Maxwell practically choked on his own tongue. That comment alone was enough to get him to step back and raise his hands up defensively.

“Well princess, I won’t be getting naked for you anytime soon, that’s for sure.” He chuckled nervously.

You smiled. “Princess? No no, I’m not a princess,” you giggled before introducing yourself. “I’m the goddess of home and hearth.”

Maxwell gulped before bursting into a fit of laughter. He looked around the office lobby, his movements quick and stressed. “Right, where’s the camera?”

“The- the camera?” you asked, confused.

“Is this for TV? Come on, tell me quickly. It’s a practical joke… right? You’re here, in my office, covered in dirt and in the most ridiculous clothes I’ve ever seen. And you say all these weird words like Themysciran - whatever that means, and you’re telling me you’re the goddess of home and… hearth?” he said almost quizzically. “You’re the crazy woman who stole Alistair away from me at the playpark earlier.”

So Raquel was right. He really was Alistair’s father. “Hey!” you frowned at his accusations. You hadn’t lied to him once. “You weren’t where Alistair left you. You disappeared and I was helping him find you!” you shot back, feeling an anger bubble inside of you.

“I don’t know where you come from princess, but here in America, you don’t just go round stealing people’s kids. That’s like, a federal offence.” Maxwell shouted, wiggling his finger in the air. “Jesus, where do you come from?”

You defensively crossed your arms over your chest, his yelling making you feel vulnerable. You could tell that he was clearly already under a lot of stress but he had no reason to take it out on you. “Themyscira.” you told him calmly.

He scrunched up his face in disdain. "There it is again. Them-a-what-now?"

"Themyscira." you said, this time making conscious effort to say it slower and clearer.

"With all due respect darling, I've travelled the world. I've been to many different places. I spent my adolescence studying a map of the world and never in my life have I heard of such a place." Maxwell shook his head in disbelief.

"I'm not here to prove anything to you, Mr Lord. But I find your attitude towards me to be quite upsetting." you revealed, looking back at the revolving doors you came in. There was a deafening silence that filled the room.

"Why are you here?" Maxwell snapped eventually with a huff. You swallowed as he stalked over to you, his gaze not breaking from you once. There was something primal in his walk. "Why… are you… here?"

He wished he could ignore the distracting erection in his pants. He didn't even know you. You were just a random girl who had come into his office demanding to see him, refusing to leave until he came. You were just a random girl who had got close with him, who had touched his face and dragged your hand down his body. Who… talked about naked men. Truthfully, Maxwell had never been with a woman who was quite like you, but things were starting to make sense for him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he were to just take you up to his private office.

Your throat felt dry and for the first time, you couldn't fathom words. His honeyed brown eyes were now dark and lust blown as he raised his hand to caress your cheek. You didn't even realise the way you subconsciously moved your face further into his hold and a wicked smirk crossed his lips. His hand was large and warm and his touch filled you with a sense of protection you didn't even think you needed. "Oh," Maxwell chuckled darkly. "I know what you want from me."

"You do?" you asked timidly, not even realising the hold he had you under. For a second, you'd forgotten why you were even here. You were so taken in by Max. You were feeling things you had never felt in your life for this man who had been haunting your every thought. He was so close to you, his breath fanned over your skin and you felt a sensation erupt between your legs. His presence was intoxicating, and he could say the same about you.

"But I can't," Maxwell shook his head, his gaze falling to your lips before dropping his hand from your face and taking a step back. He cleared his throat and looked away awkwardly, moving his hand down to his crotch trying to hide his arousal from you. "I… I should go."

There was an immediate feeling of guilt that washed over Maxwell. He'd gained reputation in the past for sleeping with women, namely his assistants and secretaries, and not shown them a slither of affection or care. He was a selfless lover and he could get away with it because he was rich, famous and attractive. But now he was none of those things. When he looked at himself in the mirror before heading to the playpark, his own appearance knocked him sick. The stress wrinkles setting in his forehead, the dark circles around his eyes… and he hadn't showered in a week. His hair was a mess and he couldn't even bring himself to check a whiff of his underarms. He didn't know you, but he sure as hell knew you deserved better than a man like him.

You were bright eyed, polite, and curious about the world around you. Not only that, you had demanded to see Maxwell just because you wished to check on his son and make sure he was okay. You had gotten very close to Max and not said a word about his bad hygiene or his tired eyes, instead, you looked at him with hope and admiration. Almost as if you believed that he could become a better man.

"Wait!" you called, reaching your hand out before Maxwell could walk away. "I'm sorry if- I'm sorry if this wasn't a good conversation for you. I've never spoken to a man before."

Maxwell titled his head and quirked an eyebrow. "You intrigue me," he admitted, pursing his lips slightly. His gaze fell from your face to the circle of rope attached to your belt. It didn't take long before he realised what it was— but no, it couldn't be. "What is that?" Maxwell asked, pointing at the rope as fear dripped from his tongue. He even took a few steps back.

You unravelled the rope and held it out for him to see. "This is the lasso of Hestia, it was my mother's. She gave it to me before I left for the world of man. Only two were made and this— this is the last one," you smiled a tearful smile at the memory of your mother. Diana had taken the other lasso, as well as the sword of Athena, back in 1918. "My mother Hestia is the goddess of Truth. And the lasso of Hestia compels any individual it uses to see the truth, or speak it," There was no telling what the expression on Maxwell's face showed. You frowned. "You still don't believe me, do you?"

The lasso had initiated a trauma response in Maxwell as you turned it on. He watched it glow yellow, the same yellow that Diana's lasso had glowed when she wrapped it around his ankle in the island bunker. He remembered her words; "See the truth." and his heart sank into the depths of his chest. That's when he saw Alistair.

Maxwell had always thought Diana Prince was strange. Ever since she told him she didn't own a TV— because who in the 1980s didn't own a TV? And who would deny a free 19 inch TV from Sears? But when she had followed him to Cairo with her pilot boyfriend and caused nothing but chaos in her red, blue and gold superhero outfit, he knew she was special. That she possessed powers. This was later reaffirmed in The White House, and then in the bunker as Maxwell tried to plot world domination and grant wishes to every citizen.

He looked at you behind all the mud and dirt, and he looked into your eyes. Could it be true? Could you be telling the truth? What if you were like Diana? Would he really want to be around someone like you?

Maxwell took a huff of air and wrapped the lasso around his wrist. You watched him, letting him do so. "Prove it." Max swallowed the lump in his throat that he hadn't even realised was there. You looked at him with hesitancy before nodding your head. If this worked, he has no reason not to believe you. A magical lasso… and it wasn't the first he had seen.

"What do you wish to see?" you asked Maxwell, your voice quiet. You didn't detach your gaze from his eyes once.

"Do you see what I see?" He asked, and you nodded your head in affirmation. Maxwell thought for a second, before remembering you had come all this way to Black Gold Cooperative just to see Alistair. At first, there was something deeply unsettling about it… but your presence made Maxwell feel safe. "Show me my son."

You closed your eyes and Maxwell followed your actions, and it wasn't long before your vision was clouded by the image of Alistair in his bedroom at Julianna and Theodore's house. Sitting at a desk, he was humming a song. Maxwell couldn't help but smile, recognising the song from the video game Alistair played with him earlier in the day. With an array of colourful crayons, he intricately sketched a drawing of a man with messy yellow hair and a tie, holding the hand of a smaller boy with black hair holding a teddy bear. He labelled the drawing ‘me and daddy’.

"Alistair sweetheart," Julianna called, peeking her head through the door that stood slightly ajar. "Dinner is ready," Alistair didn't look up once, continuing to rub pink crayon into his paper. "What are you drawing there?" Julianna asked, slipping into her son's bedroom and peering over his shoulder and the drawing.

"Me and daddy," Alistair mumbled, only half listening. He was too busy concentrating on adding the purple detailing on his daddy's socks.

"Oh sweetie, I told you that maybe, sometime, you could draw yourself and Theodore? You know, since he's your father too. He does so much for you Alistair, he takes you out to the movies, takes you to your piano lessons… he's a good guy," Julianna smiled, ruffling her son's hair. She pressed her finger into the yellow haired stick man wearing purple socks. "He's not a good guy."

Alistair furrowed his eyebrows, dropping the crayon to the paper and turning to face his mother. "My daddy is my hero." Alistair told his mother, his brown eyes wide and full of love.

Julianna didn't say a word. She stiffened up, standing tall and glared at her son's drawing. Her stare was so intense, you wondered if she was about to eject lasers from her eyes and set the paper on fire.

"Go eat your dinner." She finally said coldly, her words dripping with malice before barging out Alistair's bedroom.

The lasso of truth unravelled itself from Maxwell's wrist and you curled it back into your holster, clipping it in place on your belt. You looked up and noticed the tears that were pricking Maxwell's eyes.

"You- you probably shouldn't have seen all of that," Maxwell admitted, his voice croaking slightly as he tried to hold himself back from becoming a sobbing mess. "I'm not a hero."

You reached out and took the hand of the big-name businessman who was standing before you on the verge of tears. His hand was big, cold, and his fingers were calloused. You took him in both of your hands and rubbed soothing circles into his skin, desperately trying to provide him with warmth and comfort. His glazed brown eyes looked up at you with bewilderment as he wondered why you were being so nice to him. He was a monster, he deserved every bad consequence that would be coming for him. And yet, you treat him like a human. Even at the height of his career when he lived in riches and luxury, nobody had treated him with the politeness and love you were currently giving him — and you were a stranger. A stranger who was covered in mud with a magic lasso.

"Maybe you are a hero."

—-—-—

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[brockkboeserr]

the essay - rafe cameron

rafe’s having issues with his philosophy class, especially the paper worth thirty percent of his grade. you’ve already taken the class, crushed the essay, and rafe offers to take care of you if you take care of the paper for him

warnings: smutty smut smut (sorry not sorry), oral (female receiving), penetrative sex, lil bit of cockwarming, idk man it’s smut

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

word count: 2.5k

a/n: surprise smut saturday ig hehe, s/o to @sortagaysortahigh​ for the ffhd universe - here’s frat!rafe being a lil shit 

Rafe has to take a humanities class as part of his general ed requirements and he fuckin hates it. He thinks the prof is an old fuck who talks in riddles and he finds himself falling asleep during the 8 am lecture.

Luckily, you, his super hot super smart girlfriend (yeah, he’s sucking up a little, sue him) already took the course and you’re willing to share your immaculate notes (color coded and shit fuck yeah).

Except, Rafe is lazy and hates the content so much that he literally can’t focus when he goes to try and study your notes, so you decide to help him, sitting cross legged on his bed as he sits in his desk chair. You’re asking him questions and for everyone he gets right you lean over and give him a lil baby kiss.

He still thinks the content is stupid and overcomplicated for no reason, “I don’t understand why they don’t just say what they mean?” He groans as you attempt to explain John Locke’s two treatises of government, explaining that men are by nature free and equal. But, he likes the sound of your voice, and he is actually learning something.

He doesn’t totally bomb his first quiz, pulling off a pretty decent mark for sleeping his way through the class, and you definitely celebrate, with you showing him just how proud you were of him by letting him shove his cock down your throat.

It’s all going well, until the essay. The fucking essay.

Rafe thinks its stupid as shit, he hates essays, he’s a fuckin business major for fucks sake. Humanities can kiss his ass, you know.

He’s sat hunched at his desk, shoulders stiff with tension when you walk into his room, his philosophy textbook that he literally has not cracked once this semester is open beside him. His hair is disheveled from running his hands through it in frustration you assume. You pout, you don’t like seeing Rafe upset like this. Your frat boy boyfriend is usually calm and collected - you’re the one who gets a little too stressed when it comes to school.

Sliding your arms around his shoulders from behind, you press a kiss to the side of his face, “you okay baby?” He groans, and you feel the vibration through your entire body. He leans back into your embrace, letting his head fall back far enough that you’re able to kiss his forehead twice, making him smile

“No, this essay is fuckin stupid,” he grumbles and you can’t help but giggle at the stormy look on his face. He pouts again, turning his head to the side and puckers his lips hoping you get the hint. You peck his lips quickly once, before leaning back.

“It’s really not that bad Rafe, I got like an A on it”. At your words, something flashes behind his eyes, and he’s quick to slink out of your embrace, rolling his chair around and pulling you down onto his lap. You laugh, hands flying to grip his shoulders to keep your balance. He’s just looking at you, a small smirk on his face that makes your face feel hot. Sliding your hands from his shoulders to cup his neck you ask, “what?” But his smirk only grows wider.

Your eyes flutter shut as his lips trace a path along your jaw before he stops at your ear and whispers, “if it’s so easy why don’t you write it for me then?”

You gasp and push against his chest, “No way Rafe, I passed that class once I'm done with it.”

He grins against your neck where his kisses have migrated, his large hands gripping your hips to keep you close, “I’ll make it worth your while baby” you pause for a moment, distracted by the way he’s sucking and biting at the delicate skin of your neck, before shaking your head.

“That sounds like prostitution Rafe,” you attempt to snap at him, but the effect is lost with how breathy your voice is.

“No baby, you’ve got it all wrong,” he punctuates his point by lighting scraping his teeth against your pulse point, “it’s appreciation”

“You’re an idiot” you push against his chest again, trying to wiggle out of his hold, but his large hands don’t let go, his thumbs rubbing against your hip bone.

“C’mon baby,” he whines, lifting his head to rest your foreheads together, “I need your help”. You close your eyes, when his voice gets all whiny like that, it does something for you and he knows it and is using it to his advantage.

“Rafe, that’s literally the definition of academic dishonesty.” You tried to reason with him, but the thing about Rafe Cameron is that he’s not typically very reasonable.

“Only if we get caught baby,” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “Just write something shitty.”

“I literally cannot write a shitty essay,” you hissed, but sighed looking at his puppy dog pout, “If I agree-”

He cut you off with a big kiss, “thank you baby-”

You pushed his face back from you and continued speaking, hands holding his face away, “If I agree, I’m just going to formulate your arguments and find you quotes, the only thing I’ll write for you is the thesis statement, the rest you have to take care of.”

“Alright,” he nodded before kissing your shoulder again, “now let me take care of you.”

You sighed and relaxed your tense shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him kiss you. Before you know it, the kiss is hot and passionate, and you feel your heart in your stomach. His one arm is warm and strong against your lower back, pressing your chests together as you grind down on his lap. His other hand is curled against the base of your neck, pressing slightly into the flesh. Your mind is so clouded over with lust, you’re startled when he lets go of your throat to keep you steady as he stands up from the computer chair. Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist as he carries you to the bed. You whimper at the ease with which he supports you, turned on by the idea of your six foot three boyfriend manhandling you.

He lays you down gently on the bed and loses his shirt before kneeling over your body and leaning down to connect your lips again. Your fingers trace his abs, around his hips and up the smooth muscles of his back, feeling the goosebumps erupt on his skin after your touch. His hand slips under your oversized t-shirt, the cold metal of the ring he wears on his index finger a contrast against your warm skin. He helps you out of the item of clothing, you sit up a little to help get it over your head before your lips are together again.

The lower half of his body grinds against yours, causing you to throw your head back and gasp at the friction you desperately crave in that moment. You feel his smirk against your skin as he resumes his earlier ministrations against your neck, marking up your neck.

“No marks, Rafe,” you whine, already irritated about having to cover up the healing marks he previously left. Your friends giggle and tease you when you don’t cover them.

“You’re my girl, want everyone to know,” he shrugs, continuing his assault on your neck, licking and sucking until purple bruises litter your throat. You can’t help the flutter of your heart at his words, despite your slight annoyance over his possessiveness.

You trail a hand up from between his shoulder blades to pull on his hair, hard enough to pull him from your neck but not enough to actually hurt, and his lust-blown pupils stare into your eyes for a moment before he’s attaching your lips together again. Tongues lazily meeting, his hand finding its place around your neck again.

It’s not long before he’s kissing his way down your neck and across your collarbone before finding your breast. He sucks a few marks against the soft skin of your right breast, as he massages the other. “God, Rafe,” you moan as he pulls a nipple into his mouth, teeth lightly scraping against the sensitive flesh. Your back curves up at the sensation, pressing your bodies even closer together. As he moves to give attention to your other breast, you make eye contact, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth at the sight of him - messy hair and a hungry look in his eyes. This is your favorite Rafe, you muse, unkempt, unrestrained. You know his childhood wasn’t the most pleasant, know that he was saddled with responsibilities and expectations like Atlas was saddled with the world on his shoulders. When Rafe is like this, his guard is down and his state of vulnerability, the one that he only shares with you, makes you feel special.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by the feeling of lips pressing their way down your abdomen and you clench your stomach at the sensation, but a hand softly rubs your hip as he murmurs, “beautiful” against your skin. You can’t fight the small smile, even as he prepares to ruin you he’s offering you sweet reassurances. That’s the duality of your fratboy boyfriend - equal parts saccharine sweet and sultry suggestive.

You tense again as he runs a hand against your clothed heat. “Relax, baby, I’ll take care of you,” he smirks, hooking a finger in either side of your shorts, pulling them down along with your underwear to reveal your bare self to him. He licks his lips before running a finger through your folds, cocky grin returning to his face as he says, “so wet, baby, all for me?” It’s difficult to find the words to respond to him, so you just whimper in response. His thumb rubs circles on your clit as he lowers his mouth to your pussy, tongue probing your entrance. 

One hand grips the sheets, while the other grabs his hair, tugging lightly when he replaces his tongue with two fingers. He fingers you slowly, torturing you with the slow pace before you tug on his hair again and whine, “more, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he smirks, increasing the pace and curling them slightly inside of you to stroke your walls. “Think you can take another?” he doesn’t wait for you to respond, sucking on your clit between his lips and slipping a third finger into you.

As your orgasm approaches, that familiar sensation begins to pull at your stomach. You try to push his head away from you, the feeling almost too much. He just grabs that hand and links your hands together, the simple act coupled with the way his fingers are curled inside of you has you seeing stars, grinding your pussy against his face as your back arches. He continues to work you with his mouth and his fingers as you come down from your high.

He moves to hover over you again, kissing you hotly as your fingers move to grip him over his sweatpants. He grabs your hand and breaks the kiss, “no baby, I’m taking care of you tonight.” He gets up, slips out of his remaining clothes and easily flips you over so your stomach is pressed into the mattress. Lifting yourself onto your hands and knees, you look at him over your shoulder, biting your lip as he strokes himself a few times. He runs a hand down your back slowly before squeezing your ass with one hand as he lines himself up with his other.

You moan, head falling forward as he enters you slowly, giving you a chance to adjust and catch your breath before he’s relentlessly pounding into you. You’re a whimpering mess, hands desperately clinging to the bed sheets, loving the way he feels inside of you, the way his hands grip your waist. You feel him shift before your back is pressed to his chest, as he continues to press his hips into yours.

This angle does it for you, he’s entering you more deeply and his whiny moans in your ear spurn you closer and closer to another orgasm. He’s murmuring sweet affirmations into your ear, telling you how good you feel, what a good girl you are taking his cock so well. It’s when he sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, as his hand dips to rub between your legs that the coil snaps once more. You scream his name as you cum, head falling back against him as he fucks you through it.

He’s close now, and you whine as he slips out of you, shifting until he’s laying on his back and you’re hovering over him. His hands grip your hips once again as he helps you lower yourself onto him. You do your best to roll your hips as you ride him, but you’re oversensitive and tired, so he quickly takes over thrusting up into you. This is his favorite view, you with your head thrown back, one hand gripping your own breast, the other rubbing circles on your clit as you bounce on his cock. He doesn’t last much longer, cumming with a whiny groan as he cums inside of you. His hand replaces yours on your clit as he continues to thrust up into you until you cum again, collapsing on his chest still seated on his cock.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, utterly exhausted as you wrap your arms around his body and press a kiss to his chest unable to move any further. He chuckles, moving a hand to run through your hair. It’s silent for a few moments, the only sound in the room your shared disordered breathing.

“Y’know baby I could marry you,” he murmurs in his post-orgasmic state, holding you tightly to his chest. His words awake butterflies in your stomach and you know he feels the erratic beating of your heart against his skin. You can’t deny the feeling of arousal that pools in your belly as you roll your eyes.

“Shut up, Rafe. Talk to me after you’ve finished hazing pledges and I’ve been accepted into my masters program.” Despite your nonchalance, you’ve thought about it. How could you not have thought about it after an imperfectly perfect year with the man at your side. You loved him, all of him - he could be an asshole, but he was your asshole. Always protective, always ready to defend you, always so, so loving, you think you could spend the rest of your life loving him.

“I mean it,” he replies, fingers dancing along the ridges of your spine. You shiver as he leaves goosebumps after his touch.

You pull back slightly to look him in the eye, “I’m not going to write your paper for you,” you accuse, suspicious of his motives. There’s love behind his eyes, but also a dark rim of lust around his pupils.

“Maybe you’ll change your mind after round 2,” he smirks, flipping the two of you so you lie underneath him once more as he leans his weight on his forearms on either side of your face, lowering his lips to yours.

taglist bbs: @velyssaraptor​ @danicarosaline​ @copper-boom​ @x-lulu​ @prejudic3​ @rekrappeter​ @downbytheouterbanks​​ @ilovejjmaybank​​ @bricksatanakinswindow​​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @sunwardsss​​ @rudyypankow​ @im-a-stranger-thing​ @alexa-playafricabytoto​ @maybankfullkook​ @girlsru1eboysdroo1​ @sortagaysortahigh​ @socialwriter​ @bluesiderudy​ @anxietyandtacos​ @diverrdown​ @stargazingstarkey​

[collecting-stories]

PSL - John B Routledge

Request: Could u do John b and perhaps “if i hear pumpkin spice one more time i’m gonna scream” and or “wanna go apple picking”!?

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You sat at the kitchen table, blanket wrapped around your shoulders, pajamas still on. You were sitting in front of your computer, waiting for the zoom chat to start. All you wanted to do was climb back in bed with John B and go back to sleep. The coffee next to your computer was steaming but all you could focus on was how tired you were. And cold. North Carolina had a cold front that had moved in and John B’s Chateau lacked heating because he hadn’t been paying the bill.  

And the water heater had burst.

The zoom window on your computer expanded, your teacher’s screen mirroring on your own and you couldn’t help being thankful that there was no camera necessary for this class. Especially as you felt John B press a kiss to the top of your head, his hands on your shoulders.  

“You look ridiculous.” He muttered.  

“I’m cold,” you whined, twisting in your chair as you felt him let you go and heard him heading across the creaky floor. “How are you not?” You asked, realizing he was in just a pair of shorts.  

He shrugged, walking around the island to grab a mug out of the cabinet for coffee. “I swear to god,” he muttered, catching your attention as your teacher continued to drone on about some off topic subject.  

“What?”  

“Is this what I think it is?” He asked, holding the box of k-cups up for you to see. The box was orange, leaves on it to illustrate the autumn flavor, Pumpkin Spice scrawled across the front with the familiar starbucks logo beneath it. “If I hear pumpkin spice one more time I’m gonna scream.”  

“Don’t say it out loud?” You suggested, biting your lip as you tried not to laugh at the annoyed expression on his face. If there was one thing that John B was slowly realizing about you it was your absolute love of all things pumpkin spice. Fall hit every year and pumpkin became the center of your universe.  

“We have pumpkin spice creamer, a pumpkin spice candle,” John B held up the jar candle on the counter as proof, “pumpkin spice soap, pumpkin spice oreos, and now pumpkin spice coffee. I feel like I’m somehow trapped in some weird pumpkin spice psychedelic trip.”  

“You’re over-exaggerating,” you stressed, turning back to your computer for a second to answer a question, holding your hand up to keep John B quiet, “cognitivism.” This class, and the quiz review that you were in the middle of, was important for your grade but finding motivation every morning to get out of bed was a chore. John B made it almost impossible on a good day and now he was distracting you so that you could have it out over your pumpkin obsession.  

“I’m not over-exaggerating. There is pumpkin spice crap all over the house, it's insane.” He argued once you’d muted the microphone again.  

“I put up with all your weird obsessions.”

“I do not have weird obsessions.” John B replied, still making the pumpkin spice coffee despite bitching about it.  

“You’re wearing your bandana.” You point out, “I think you’ve taken it off like, twice since I met you.”

“Not the same. At all.”

“It’s pretty damn close JB.” You replied. The bandana in question was tied around his neck currently but you were sure it would migrate throughout the day. Tied up around his nose and mouth as a mask, pushed up to keep his hair out of his face, tied around his wrist, tucked in his pocket...it was like some sort of extra limb that he kept connected to his body at all times. “I don’t see why you have to make such a big deal over me liking pumpkin spice...it takes up like, two months of your life.”

“Normal people like pumpkin spice...you’ve adopted it as the only flavor that exists.” John B argued.  

“Well, you’re drinking the coffee so stop bitching.” You didn’t complain about what he liked or didn’t like, you didn’t understand why he got to complain about your stuff.  

“I’m just saying-”

“Well stop saying it!” You snapped, wrapping yourself further in your blanket and crossing your arms.  

For a moment, the only sound was in the room was your teacher wrapping up the lesson for the day. John B stood over at the counter, drinking the pumpkin spice coffee that he had complained about in the first place, watching you pretend to focus on class. He was just venting really and he hadn’t meant to piss you off as much as he clearly had. Sighing, he walked over to you, leaning over you again and kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re in a really bitchy mood.”  

“I know...” John B sighed. He stood up but let his hands hang over your shoulders, allowing you to take his hands, leaning back in the chair and looking up at him. You knew he was stressed, you were too. “Let’s do something.”

“Now?”

“When your class is over.” He replied, glancing at the clock on your computer screen, five more minutes. “Wanna go apple picking?” He knew that you had been asking him for weeks to do anything that wasn’t just hanging around the Chateau, going to the Wreck or anything else you did on a daily basis.  

“For real?” You asked. “We’ll have to take the ferry?”

“That’s fine.” John B replied. “I swear, I’ll get dressed, we can go.”

“Okay,” You agreed, kissing him this time when he bent down. “And just think, in like another month it’ll be peppermint mocha everything.”

“Can’t wait.”  

-

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts  @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @aoba-josigh @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @mysticsthinking @heavenlymama @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar @lemur46 @under-a-canyon-moon @calums-betch @dpaccione @bbeauttyybbx

[makeupbychio]

ily // C.H

pairing: Calum x Reader.

words: 2,3k.

warnings: fluff, a little bit of smut, swearing, spoilers about tv shows (Brooklyn 99 and Glee). English is not my first language. 

a/n: I tried to do this genderless so I would love some feedback. Hope you like it, love y'all.

inspired by: a couple of shows that I watched during this quarantine.

It's a lovely and cozy night with Calum, whom cooked your favorite food and watching him during the process so dedicated to make it perfect like five stars restaurants made you looking at him with heart eyes the whole night. The tomato sauce was perfect and the pasta even more. You saw how he followed every single step of the recipe and refused you to help him. 

After finishing dinner, you were enjoying red wine -the bottle is almost empty- and talking to him about everything and anything. He set the dining room with vanilla candles to make it more romantic. The warm lights lightly illuminating your faces was so charming. 

Deeply inside you know that today it's been 4 months since you started dating, but Calum never brings topics like that or buys something every month and that's totally fine because you neither talk about it. He just surprises you with lovely details like this one in random days, not just when you have to celebrate something. 

When he feels like it he does it. Sometimes he caught you off guard like that time he poured like two hundred sunflowers in your house just because, or when he bought you the coolest denim jacket when he was on tour and he said extra things like the jacket was made just for you. Or when he printed the pictures Andy took in a party you threw because he wanted to have them as memories not just in his phone. Also, you find cute when he is so excited to send you his playlists he does every month with his favorite songs -he also made a private playlist for you know, when you need privacy-.

Once finished dinner, you moved to the couch to start your nerd marathon of the shows you watch. He went to find a big blanket since it's cool outside due to the rain that's been going on for two days. He settled next to you and kissed your temple when you put your head on his chest and your hands on his ribcage. 

"Come here, baby" Calum said wanting you closer.

"What's our mood today? Glee or Brooklyn 99?" you asked while you were concentrated on the TV screen searching for said shows.

“Both" you said at the same time. You explained how you can't wait to know what happens in the show. You agreed to watch Brooklyn 99 first and then Glee when you were cuddle in bed. 

After finishing the Halloween heist chapter you were still laughing at Gina's funny surprises.

"Babe you would be the perfect Gina Linetti" Calum said when he stopped laughing. 

"I'm going to take that as a really good compliment, what about you?" you asked him looking up to find his eyes. 

"Hmm I don't know" Calum said confused. "We should take an online test to find out" he broke the cuddle position you both had in the couch to go find his computer. 

"That's so Amy Santiago" you teased him while he was in another room. Then he came back showing you the electronic device.

He sat straight next to you again and searching for Buzzfeed quizzes related to the show. 

"This one sounds pretty cool" he said focused on the screen and pointing the one he chose. While the link load slowly due to his weak WiFi signal you decided you will take the quiz first. 

"K'" you said with the computer in your lap reading the questions and choosing the answers fast. "So this says I'm Gina Linetti externally and Amy Santiago internally". You read the caption under the results and it makes sense to you. 

"I was right babe, now my turn" he said taking from you the computer. It was funny how he took this so seriously to the point he had his tongue out, a thing he does when he is working. Both of you kinda expected and not his results. "I'm Rosa Diaz externally and Jake Peralta internally". 

"That's kinda sexy tho" you said biting your lip to refuse a giggle till you couldn't resist and start making fun of how bad ass but a puddle he is.

He stood up from the couch to lay against the wall with crossed arms looking at you how cute you looked all teasing him and also surprised with the results. "I can be the Jake Peralta to your Amy Santiago" he was now teasing you.

"Challenge accepted" you said before a moment of silence and Calum broke the ice.

"Oh gosh I love you so much" he said with all the emotion and then froze when he realized he said that out loud and not just inside his head. He waited for you to say something and as your surprised wide open eyes, he knew you weren't going to answer what he wanted. 

"What?" you asked surprised, not to make him repeated the words but to confirm if it was reality.

"Don't worry, I'm going to take a shower before bed" he said quickly disappearing into the bathroom and took his shirt off. He felt so stupid, he tortured himself for a couple of minutes with thoughts like you don't feel the same way about him and how maybe that scared you and now you were going to run away. 'Stupid Cal' he said to himself before he decided to leave that for later. 

In that short amount of minutes, in the other side of the room you were thinking about how he just threw the bomb at you with no warning. You felt bad that you didn't answer immediately, because you love him too but it was confusing how hours ago you were thinking about how he is not like that type of person to celebrate another month of your relationship or cheesy things but clearly he does. You thought how to fix this and your next move. 

When you were about to knock the bathroom's door Calum surprised you opening it before your action. He was surprised too to find you inches apart from him. 

"Jesus, y/n. Sorry, I thought you were still in the couch" he said when he stopped his rushing thoughts. "Are you okay?" asking if something happened or if you need something.

Calum was already with his shirt off and just with his jeans. You laid your fingers on his beautiful jaw to get him closer and kiss him. 

"I love you too, Cal" you said looking up directly to his eyes, fingers still on his jaw and your lips barely touching his. You moved forward a little bit to get you both inside the bathroom so you can close the door. Your moves were slow and that made the intensity filled the room. You know, sexual tension. 

You saw his sculpted tan back when he turned around to start the water. You bite your lip at the view. "Is Roy at home already?" you asked innocently him to be sure of something. 

He laughed at you being cautious when multiple times before Roy definitely heard you both having sex. "I don't know, but that's cute from you to worry about my roommate's nightmares because of us" he was teasing you. 

"Fuck you" you said realizing that the house is huge and that Roy's room is way far from where you were. So you can have an idea about how loud you have to be so he can hears you. Right now you don't care and at the same time hoping that Cal's roommate could be asleep. 

You stepped closer to him and he couldn't resist it. It's not like he can't kiss you, he knows that he is allowed to that but he would kill for your kisses. He moved his head to reach your tinted cherry lips and started heating up rapidly the situation. He just cut the makeout session when you took off your shirt, then he removed the rest of his clothes to jump in into the shower. You bit your lip at the view and decided to join him so you took off your jeans too and stepped inside in underwear. 

"Baby no! That combo is my fave" Calum said when your clothes got wet immediately because of the hot water. You laughed at his words like if he doesn't has a washing machine or a dryer. You laced your arms around his neck and kissed him under the water. "I've been holding this for a while and a lot of emotions and actions to show you how I feel but not anymore" he said and started to feel like he finally poured out what was stuck on his mind. "I wanted to tell you in a more romantic way than how I did it minutes ago watching Brooklyn 99, just pretend that we are outside under the rain so it could be more romantic like a Hollywood movie from the 50s" Calum said. 

He rapidly interlaced both arms in the end of your back to keep your body close to his. You rested your arms around his neck and he went up a little bit with his hands to fight with your soaked bra and then took it off and throw it to the floor crossing the glass door. A cloud of steam was already formed because of the heat in the room.

Now just your panties were left but you were so focused tracing Calum's tattoos with your fingers while he admired you doing it. It gave him chills when you found his chest tattoo.

"I love your tattoo too, honey" he said with his hand moving down to the side of your left thigh where your tattoo is. Perfect time to lift you up and take off the last piece of clothes. Your legs around his waist and he got you holding you with his strong hands placed above your butt.

Calum laughed when you tried to hide your body. It was the first time you took a shower with him. But the only way to hide your body was pressing it harder against his.

From outside the shower your bodies seemed blurry because of the big amount of steam. That marks were erased when Calum lifted you up to hold your body against the wall, your legs were around his waist to give him better access. 

Lust immediately filled your mind with the passionate kisses and how good felt when Cal pressed your body against the wall, still lifting you with his strong hands. God that hands and arms drive you crazy with his tattoos and notorious veins. Next he asked you for permission to fill your entrance, always making sure you were alright. You just nodded at him and he did it, your right arm so tight around the back of his neck and left hand holding against the glass leaving your handprint freshly. 

You both failed at being quiet but the sound of water and the soundproofing walls gave you advantage. Words couldn't be found, just moans and kisses wherever you had access. Calum still holding you changed to another wall, now one hand holding you and the other pressed against the wall that gave him the balance and to keep pushing inside you.

"Calum, I'm close" you said whispering on his ear. He wanted to make you feel even better so he speed up his pace. The water was hitting Cal's back and was burning him with the marks you were leaving with your nails. 

You tilted your head back when you reached your orgasm wanting to have your feet back on the floor and seconds later of friction he reached his edge too. 

He pulled off and helped you to for real take a shower and clean the sweaty mess. Now the calm and tiredness hit you both once you left the bathroom ready to -do quite opposite like minutes ago- put comfy clothes and cuddle. 

Calum dried your hair and you his. Once you put his baggy hoodie you jumped into the bed. You waited for him who was setting the heat for the house during the night.

While you watched Glee, with his head resting on your chest and stroking his curls, you thought about what he said earlier. Calum always sings the songs that he knows from the show and taps your skin gently at the beat of the music, and it's more than lovely to hear his beautiful voice. 

“Babe, what did you mean when you said that you had been holding that for a while?” you asked him when the cast of the show ended the song they were performing. He looked up at you.

“Like a month ago we were watching Brooklyn 99 that chapter when Jake was in danger and Amy felt guilty because she never told him how she felt and that hit me” he spoke with all the honesty. You found that so cute and cheesy from him and it made sense to you because for a while he seemed that he wanted to say something important to you but you never asked or pushed him to do it.

You kissed his forehead and smiled at him. Before you both returned your attention to the show you said, “I love you”.

"I love you too" he said. "I think you would be a perfect Mercedes" he started again teasing you about the characters of the shows you watch together, you are going to get used to this. 

You tried to break the closeness of his head in your chest because he knows that you don't have a beautiful talent and voice like Mercedes. "Ha ha very funny. So in that case you would be Sam?" you raised your brows at him because even when you love Sam, he's a player. 

"I think we can only resolve this with a quizz" he said smirking at you.

[greenygreenland]

If I Were You: Fives x Reader

-for reasons that make it easier for me, this takes place in the US in 2020, so yeah, COVID is a thing -it’s been a while since I’ve written any Star Wars one-shots. I’ve been so busy working on Wannabe lol Summary: You and Fives dream about each other, but you’ve never actually met face to face. You are from a different reality than his where Star Wars is fictional. You believe he’s real, but only can prove it to yourself when he appears in your world. Fives learns about how stressful life off the battlefield can be.

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence, stressing over grades, punishment by parents (more like implied. I won’t write it out, so it’s vaguely stated.)

You sat on a crate, watching the flames lick at the air as Fives smiled to himself. You liked having dreams like this, where you both comfortably sat by the fire, chatting about your contrasting lives. You used to believe Star Wars was a fictional world, until you had dreams about Fives. He was always so real in your mind anyway, and this only made you want to believe in his existence more. 

“I have a big test tomorrow, but I don’t think I’m going to do so well.” you mumbled with a sigh. “It makes me feel bad that I’m struggling with this while you struggle with an actual issue.” Fives shook his head, shrugging a little as if it explained everything. “But I was bred for this, for war I mean. If I weren’t a soldier, I don’t know what I’d be.” He chuckled. “I can’t imagine myself sitting in a classroom all day learning about geometry and algebra. There are some boys who like that stuff in the 212th, but it seems like a waste to me.” 

You nodded in agreement. “Exactly. School is only good for producing data-rich kids who lack experience, especially when they start working and finding jobs.” 

“That’s how I felt when I was first deployed. No matter how much training you get, or how much you learn, experience is the best teacher. And like Rex always says--”

“--experience outranks everything.” you said in unison. Fives smiles, and he looks rather happy that you know that. But of course you do, in your world he’s only a fictional character. A person created by some movie producer or director or something (he didn’t remember). It gave him a mixed a feeling, a doubt of his very existence. Was he purely fictional? A fragment of someone’s own imagination? 

But then you told him something he swore to never forget: Just because it’s happening inside your head doesn’t mean it isn’t real. The world works in mysterious ways. Maybe we were meant to meet.

And so he hung onto that, always looking forward to when he fell asleep and talked to you. You always looked forward to your dreams too, allowing yourself to forget all of your responsibilities and problems. You never had anything to worry about around Fives, and having him by your side made you feel safe.

“I wish we could meet for real.” You didn’t mean to say that out loud and instinctively looked to meet Fives’s gaze. He nodded in agreement, resting his arms on his knees. “Me too, but if we do I’d rather you not see how horrific the Clone Wars has been.” 

“I wish the Clone Wars could have ended differently.” 

Fives looks uncertain of your answer, and he wonders if he should ask what the outcome of the War is. He wants to, but deep inside, he knows he shouldn’t.

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

You awake in your bed, rubbing at your eyes as your alarm goes off. You turn it off, glancing at the time groggily. 6:00. A sigh leaves your lips and you roll out of bed. There’s movement in your sheets. You freeze, taking note of how human-like the form was. “It’s too early for this sleep paralysis demons, stop--” you rip off the sheets as fast as you can, “--oh...” You trail off, eyes wide in bewilderment. There’s a familiar man in your bed, except, he isn’t a man at all. 

He looks to be around your age, and more youthful with the slightest hint of baby fat around his cheeks. He’s cleanly shaven, with a tattoo on his right temple of the aurebesh number 5. You stare at him for a moment, admiring how young, he looks. He's suddenly rolling in your bed, mumbling in his sleep before he jolts up, eyes wide and awake. He’s worried, maybe even a little scared at how unfamiliar the surroundings are. He’s already in ARC trooper mode, scanning his surroundings and reaching for his nonexistent blaster. 

“Where...” You met his gaze, swallowing hard as if it’d help ground you. 

“Fives.” Your voice is almost a whisper. “How did you get here?” You couldn’t believe your eyes. He was alive, in your bed, real. He shakes his head and sits up in your bed, eyeing his ‘civiie’ clothes uncomfortably. “Uh...these aren’t mine.” he dumbly states. You have the urge to snort. “Of course they aren’t yours Fives.” A long sigh escapes your lips and you eye the time on your phone. “I don’t have time to figure out how you got here. I have school and need to go in fifteen minutes.” 

“Out of all the days I somehow show up, it’s on a school day?” Fives remarks. You pick through your closet, frantically pulling out a pair of clothes and shutting yourself in so Fives doesn’t see. “I have a big test, it’s first block and I’ve gotta walk to school.” You pull on your shirt and trousers, emerging from the closet with a frown. “I can’t be late, but I can’t just leave you here.”

“Should I, I don’t know, go with you?” 

“You’re not enrolled in school,” you reach for a brush and Fives can only stare in awe as you run it through your locks. “I’m not sure what to--” You pause, placing your brush down with a sigh. “Oh right.” 

“What do you mean, ‘oh right?” 

“Global pandemic. I have online school. On the bright side, my parents are away. They’ve been quarantined in another state for work reasons.” Fives suddenly feels very dumb. He recalled you talking about ‘COVID-19 ‘ and how it’s a bit like the Blue Shadow Virus. “School doesn’t start until another two hours, so why is my alarm on for six o’clock?” You power on your phone, switching through the alarms and disabling the ones you don’t need with a shake of your head. Fives is mesmerized. He likes how thin the device is, and how it fits in your sweater pocket like a piece of flimsi. 

You crawl around him, cuddling into your bed as he simply watches. “You’re going back to sleep?” You nod, placing your phone on its charger and closing your eyes. “We’ll figure out how you got here soon enough, and it’s not like there’s anything better to do.” Fives stares at your bed uncertainly. Was it really okay? You were a girl, after all, and this was your room. You beckon him over, and that’s when he decides to lie down. 

Sleeping in a bed couldn’t hurt anyway. And besides, he’s known you for a long time (how long, he’s unsure). He can’t help but note how humongous your bed is compared to the ones in the barracks on the Resolute. It’s so soft, and he feels like he’s laying down on clouds. 

“I’m jealous. Your bed’s really big and comfy. The boys would kill to sleep on something like this.” You smile, throwing your thick blankets on top of Fives. He’s about to say something, but you’re already asleep. It appals him how fast you’d done so, and again, he’s just the tiniest bit jealous. But that soon goes away as he relaxes into the soft blankets, savouring the warmth and comfort they provided. 

He doesn’t dream, and neither do you. 

You wake up to the sound of your alarm blaring, and it takes you every single bit of strength left in your body to slide it off. “Urgh.” You flop down and Fives lazily turns to face you. He opens his eyes, blinking the sleep away with a yawn. “Your bed is amazing.” You grin, climbing out of bed as Fives cuddles into your sheets. “I know, right?”

You open your laptop and log into Google classroom. Zoom awaits you, and it’s the first thing you open along with your quiz work. You sigh, begrudgingly turning on your camera as it starts.

“Good morning everyone.” your teacher says with a smile. “How is everyone doing today?” It’s awkwardly silent for a few moments before someone quietly says ‘good’. You wait for someone else to respond, but it’s silent again. Fives glances over at your computer. He silently crawls out of bed, carefully folding your blankets and ducking out of the camera’s view. 

“I guess everyone’s still asleep.” your teacher says with a chuckle. “The Zoom is open if you have any questions on the quiz. I’m not going to keep you here, so if you’d like, you can leave and get to work. You have until the end of the period.” You nod and exit out of the Zoom. Opening up the quiz, you scan over its contents. Your face begins to twist as you read through the problems, your stomach churning with unbelievable doubt. 

You were going to fail even though you spent all night studying.

“What even is this?” You scroll through the doc with a scowl, eyeing the equations and problems as if it were the scum of the Earth (which it was). “I’m going to fail. Wonderful.” Despite that, you get to work anyway, scribbling random numbers on a scrap piece of paper. Fives takes a seat on the chair next to you, curiously watching you work through the problems. 

“I thought you didn’t know how to do that.” 

“I don’t, but I’m trying to see if I can find the answers on the multiple choice questions through trial and error. If I get it wrong, then consider this test flunked.” Fives takes one glance at the paper you’re writing on and immediately regrets it. The equations look like a foreign language to him, with numbers and letters he wasn’t even sure could be possible. “That’s definitely not something they teach us on Kamino.” he says. “And stars am I glad for that.” 

You frown, scribbling out an equation with a groan. “I hate this!” Fives wishes he could help, but he doesn’t know how. Math isn’t something he’s done besides the basics of addition and subtraction. He knew decimals too, and a little bit about fractions, but that was all. It wasn’t enough to help you figure out how to use the equation  x = x0 + v0t.

“I feel really bad for you.” he muttered. You snorted. “I feel bad for me too.”

Fifteen minutes pass. Then twenty. Thirty. Forty. Forty-five....

“Done.” You typed in the last number and submitted the doc, running a hand through your hair as you did so. “I hate this class, but it’s required. Who even needs to know all this stuff anyway?” Fives doesn’t know how to respond, so he watches as you stress over your test. He had his own experiences of tests, but they were for ARC training, or drills he had to remember to keep himself alive on the battlefield. 

Like you said, this stuff was useless if you didn’t need it. 

The next three class flew by incredibly slowly. Fives didn’t have anything to do, so he watched you go about your day like it were a documentary. In a way, he found it interesting how simple yet complex your life was. You had six hours of school (which used to be seven before the pandemic), one lunch break around noon, and the rest of the day to finish assignments or relax. 

He envied how leisurely it was compared to his own life. You had free time to roam around the house or the neighbourhood once you were done, and a whole fridge full of flavourful foods he’s never even had once. Although your life was still stressful, it was lived in the bliss of never knowing the horrors of war.

“Okay, it’s lunch time.” you broke in with a relieved sigh. “Let’s go downstairs.” You opened the door. In Fives’s eyes, your house was a complete dream. “Wow. You have a nice house.” You smiled, leading him down the stairs. “It’s better than a barracks, that’s what. In most peoples’ eyes, my house is normal. It’s not too shabby, but not something you’d find in the town over.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Rich town. They’re known for the private schools--which are schools that cost money to be enrolled in. I go to a public school, but there’s really not much difference in the curriculums so it doesn’t matter to me. Save money, live better, Walmart.” Fives didn’t ask what a ‘Walmart’ is. As soon as you paused in front of the kitchen, he knew his jaw had hit the floor. 

There was a smug look in your eyes as you pulled a box of cereal out of the cabinet. “How about we eat a little bit of everything?” You tossed him the cereal box and he read the title. “That way you can experience it all.” Fives stared at the cereal box with furrowed brows. “’Kix’?” 

“I know right? Same name as your Kix.” 

Fives wasn’t a big fan of the cereal, but the candy you gave him? Force was that amazing. 

You both sat at the kitchen table, candy and chocolate wrappers everywhere. You’d clean up later, what mattered now was spending time with Fives before you figured out a way to get him home. “Isn’t it, I don’t know, lonely here?” he inquired. You fiddled with a candy wrapper, mindlessly scanning over it s ingredients. “I’m not sure. My parents are always away so I don’t see them much. I don’t have many friends and I don’t text them. I don’t really think I can say I’m lonely because I don’t know how it would feel to be lonely when I’m used to it.” 

Fives mulled over your lengthy answer thoughtfully. He thought about all his brothers, both the alive and fallen. He couldn’t imagine ever being separated from them, especially since he was around them 24/7. “Well for me,” he began, “I think I’d be lonely in such a big house. You know that I grew up around brothers, guess it’s all I’ve ever known. I’m never alone. I have my brothers.” 

You felt an equal sense of connection between yourself and Fives. Both of you did come from different worlds, but you understood not understanding something because that was what you were used to. You couldn’t imagine ever having people around while Fives couldn’t imagine being on his own. Slowly, you gathered the candy wrappers, depositing them in the rubbish bin before glancing at the clock. “I have two more classes.” Your voice was quiet. “You can hang around here if you want, I’ll be upstairs.” 

Fives winced to himself when you disappeared. He had hit a sore spot. 

Three days later, 14:20, Friday

“Done, done, and done. Happy Friday to you and happy Friday to me.” you mumbled to yourself with a sigh. You thanked whatever was out there for no homework and shrank into your chair. There was a ‘ping!’ from your phone and you checked your email. 

First Period Quiz: Marked

You frowned, tapping on the email anyway. Suddenly, you froze, eyes wide over the score displayed on the screen. 

25/100%

You failed. Well, of course you failed! You didn’t know a single thing on the stupid quiz anyway. A long sigh escaped your lips and you tossed your phone on your bed. You rested your head in your hands, heaving out deep breaths to steady out the shock. There were footsteps outside your door, and you didn’t need to see a face to know who it was. 

“What happened?” 

“That test this morning? Yeah, I failed. I studied all night, but it was useless anyway.” Fives didn’t miss the tremble in your voice. After being around so many brothers with trauma, he could identify that tone of voice in a heartbeat. Over these past three days, he learned a lot about you, and he knew you’d done the same. He found out that school was more important than anything to you. He surmised it was because of the pressure your parents put on your shoulders rather than something you chose to dedicate your heart to. He also found out your favourite colour was (f/c) and that you liked to (activity) and (activity).

On the contrary, you only learned about Fives’s habits and a few new things he liked to do or eat. He knew it was because he was, well, a fictional character in your world, but that was something he refused to dwell on (it’d give him an existential crisis). 

He took a seat by your side, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. You sniffled, and it was then that Fives knew he had to do something--fast. 

Tests weren’t something he personally cried about, but he had seen a few shinies do it in the past. “Hey, hey...” His voice was soft, gentle, like a warm breeze. “It’s okay. Can’t you, I don’t know, do a make-up test?” You shook your head sullenly. “No. My teacher doesn’t allow it.” 

“Oh.” He paused, rubbing circles on your back. “Well it’s not the end of the world, right? There will probably be more opportunities that can raise your grade.” 

“But I already have a ninety in that class!” You held back a few tears and raised your head. You couldn’t let Fives see you cry over something so pathetic. “I’m going to have an eighty-nine, and I can’t afford to do that! My mum wants me to go to Harvard, my dad wants me to go to MIT... Those are all IV League schools, the top of the top, and I can’t get there if I can’t keep my grades up. I--I just--I wish--” 

There’s another wave of tears that build up in your eyes and you bury your head in your arms. You heave out a shaky sigh as Fives scoots closer to you in support. You appreciate his presence, but you’re not sure he can really do anything to help you. He’s a soldier after all, not a professor from a university. He’s build differently, made differently, trained differently while you’re you. A teenager. A nobody who tries her best but can’t succeed. 

“My parents are going to be so mad at me. They’re going to...they’ll...” You know they won’t be home for at least another month, but that realisation is enough for the tears to burst and for you to start loudly sobbing. That test was the last to be submitted for the term, so even if you did try to persuade your teacher to allow you to do test-corrections, she would say no. You were going to have to accept a big, fat B on your report card. 

Fives doesn’t know what to say, but he knows that if Echo were here, he’d know exactly what to do. But Fives wasn’t Echo. He wasn’t good with words of comfort or really anything off the battlefield. He didn’t know this type of pain like you did. And so he asks the only thing he really can: “Is there anything I can do to help you?” 

You just want a shoulder to lean on, someone to physically be there for you after having no one for so many years. So Fives holds you, and you’ve never felt safer in his arms. He rocks you back and forth, hums a little song you know to be in Mando’a. What really matters is that he’s there, and that he has your back. No matter how different you both were, it was clear that pain could take shape in various forms. Some on larger scales than others. 

Fives knew that if he was you, he’d feel the same pain too. 

PT 2

[blackbutterfliescal]

With Eyes To Hear

A Michael Clifford One Shot

Pairing: Barista!Michael Clifford x Deaf!Reader

Word count: 3.4K

Rating: Fluff

Requested by: N/A

Content: second person POV, gender neutral reader insert, Deaf!reader (uses sign language & lip reading primarily), first date, singular mention of smoking

A/N: The Deaf community is very near and dear to my heart. I’ve been taking ASL classes for just over 2 years but I’m not Deaf/HoH. I will not claim to be a voice for this community but if you are Deaf/HoH, I welcome any thoughts you want to share with me. If you want to read a really sweet Luke fic by someone who is hearing impaired, check out Can You Hear Me? and Valentine by Frankie. 💕 Also!! big big shout-out to my bby Adri for making this pretty moodboard for me 😇😘

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Feedback is always appreciated! 😊

———

This afternoon was proving to be the longest in recorded history. At least that’s what it felt like to Michael. The cafe had been dead since he got there after lunch and it was nearing closing time. He felt like he could count this shift’s customers on one hand. Rainy days were always slow, but today seemed never ending.

Michael could hear the rain falling outside the door, which Calum left propped open for one last smoke break. As he moved around the pastry case to sweep the small seating area, Michael glanced out the windows to see that any hint of daylight was gone. The street lights had flickered on outside the cafe and reflected brightly off the rain-slick pavement.

He resumed his sweeping, determined to leave on time today. He broke out of his cleaning trance at the jingle of the bell above the front door. He did his best to plaster on a smile, knowing he had less than ten minutes until close.

“Oh, sorry we’re-” He stopped short.

Heavy boots hit the floor repeatedly in an effort to knock the water off on the welcome mat. The door slammed shut behind you and, though you didn’t seem to notice him, Michael winced slightly at the sound. You shrugged the oversized rain jacket off your shoulders and hung it on the coat rack by the door.

So much for leaving on time tonight,he thought.

He made his way to the register as you approached. You gave him a small smile and wave and he couldn’t help the tired grin on his face. “Sorry,” you mouthed, eyebrows furrowed. You really wouldn’t be out for coffee so late if you weren’t desperate. And you were trying hard not to track the rain all over his clean floor.

“What can I get you?” he asked. The exhaustion was evident on his face.

“Do you have a pen and paper?” you signed.

“Ummmm…” Michael dug in the pockets of his apron quickly for the notepad and pencil he usually kept. He handed them over to you in a hurry and you let out a giggle at his frantic actions. Michael’s stomach picked up with butterflies and his face cracked into a smile at the sound. You slid the notepad back across the counter with your order and your name scrawled at the bottom. When he looked up to meet your face, you gave him a timid smile.

He read out your name as he leaned down to grab a to-go cup and started to make your coffee “I used to go to have a babysitter with the same name. They were so strict! I remember this one time….” He trailed off as he turned to the machine behind him. Michael always rambled when he got nervous. And he was always nervous around people he thought were cute. When he faced toward you again, you noticed his lips moving and waved your hand to get his attention.

“I’m deaf. I can’t hear you. But I’m pretty good at reading lips! Just face me when you talk.” You kept the polite smile on your face as his cheeks flushed red. This wasn’t new territory for you by any means and you had become an expert at navigating situations like this, unfortunately.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking.” he sighed and looked at his feet.

You waved again to draw his gaze back to you. “It’s fine! Just remember to look at me when you speak.” Michael smiled at you sheepishly with a small nod. “Okay.” He wasn’t familiar with the signs you were using, but he could piece together what you needed from him.

He quickly finished the order and placed the coffee on the counter, telling you not to worry about paying for it. Besides, he’d already counted the money drawer and didn’t want to have to do it again for a single coffee. You held his gaze with a toothy grin for a few beats before pointing at the door awkwardly.

“I’m...going to go. Thank you very much! I’ll see you around,” you signed.

You pulled the raincoat on again and wrapped your hands around the warm coffee before disappearing into the rain, letting the door slam behind you.

Michael stared at the door long after you’d gone. It wasn’t until Calum came back in to do some last minute clean-up that he snapped out of it.

———

That night when Michael got home, he sat in his usual spot at the computer. His phone buzzed on the table next to him, lighting up briefly to show a text from Calum.

Are you joining the game or not, man? We’re getting our asses kicked.

Michael had been at this for hours and could probably use a break to play. After a moment of thought, he shot back a quick reply.

Not tonight.I’ve got something else going on.

He sat his phone face down, causing him to miss Calum’s cheeky response, and glanced at the clock at the bottom of his computer screen. He’d been researching for hours. He decided to watch one more video before calling it a night. A yawn that stretched across his face as he clicked play on yet another video titled Deaf Culture 101.

———

It had been almost a week and Michael was still hoping to see you come back into the cafe. He’d been working on signs for anything he thought might be helpful but practicing your name was his favorite. He made Calum quiz him every day when the mid-afternoon lull hit. Calum completely understood where his friend was coming from but sometimes Michael got on a soapbox about inaccessibility for hours and that always made Calum roll his eyes, regretting his decision to be helpful.

When you appeared in the cafe that morning, Calum threw a wink at Michael and watched as a nervous blush crept across his face and neck. Calum gave him a small thumbs up and made sure to stay out of his way as you got closer to the front of the line.

“Good morning!” He spelled your name out at an agonizingly slow pace. “How….are you…..today?”

A wide smile took over your face and you suddenly felt a little embarrassed that you didn’t get his name last time you came in. You quickly found the name tag pinned to his apron and let out a sigh of relief before replying politely. You did your best to use signs you thought he might recognize and give him time to register them.

It took a lot of concentration for him to remember the right signs now that you were here and you could tell that he was panicking and clearly flustered. He remembered your order and your smile reached your eyes at his thoughtfulness.

“And one of these!” you said, leaning forward to point at your favorite treat in the pastry case for clarity. When you looked up from the baked goods, you met Michael’s light eyes. He must be the sweetest thing in here, you thought while holding his gaze. Your eyes went wide with shock at your own mind, causing you to glance around the rest of the shop before realizing the two of you were holding up the line.You quickly shuffled to the cash register where Michael rang up your breakfast.

As he gathered the change in his hand, you motioned for him to keep it and he slid it into the tip jar. “Thank you!” he signed with a smile. His nervous brain got ahead of him and he couldn’t come up with the right signs before he blurted out, “I wanted to ask if you’d want to hang out this weekend? I’m available Sunday afternoon?” You smiled again, reading the question on his lips. “Sure! That sounds great! Do you want to text me and make plans?” you asked, looking around for a pen and paper to write down your cell number.

Shock and excitement ran across his features as he picked up your coffee cup from the counter. He scribbled his phone number on the cardboard protector and handed it to you. Michael always felt so awkward making small talk and a new language made him even more nervous. He genuinely couldn’t believe you had agreed to a date with him. You gave him a small wave as you pivoted toward the door, giving him another smile over your shoulder before making it outside.

Michael was stuck in the same place with a goofy grin on his face until the next customer made their way to the register. Calum clapped his hand across his friend's shoulders to pull him back to reality but he didn’t come down from cloud nine for the rest of the day.

———

The two of you exchanged constant messages until Sunday rolled around. Your conversations were effortless and, most of the time, about nothing. You’d discussed every favorite you could think of, the strangest orders he’d taken each day, the interesting people you saw on your commutes, and he’d even snapped you hilariously edited candids of Calum. Poor guy had no idea his friend was turning him into a pirate or a pilot or a heavy metal rockstar.

You’d gotten a slow start to your morning as you made breakfast and sat down to watch the news until it switched to local programming around eleven o’clock. As you were getting ready for your afternoon with Michael, you realized the two of you had never decided what you were doing. He did ask you to hang out after all, so you hoped he had something in mind. When you messaged him to ask, you felt the tiniest bit guilty nixing a couple of his ideas immediately. Movies just weren’t practical since captioning devices were notoriously bad and, though a nice restaurant sounded lovely, the lighting was almost always too dim to read lips. He was throwing ideas around pretty quickly, so you thought it a little odd when he disappeared for a few minutes after a couple of rejected ideas. You knew he wouldn’t just leave you hanging, so you sat your phone down and continued your routine, deciding that if you didn’t hear from him by the time you were done, you would pitch a few plans of your own. After about ten minutes of silence, just as you picked it up to propose a place to go, your phone buzzed and lit up with Michael's name at the top of the screen.

I have a plan but it’s a surprise. I’ll send you the address but promise me you won’t look it up! Oh, and wear sunscreen 😎

You can’t help the amused smile that took over your face as you promised not to ruin his surprise. You wondered what in the world you’ve gotten yourself into but knew you’d have a good time with Michael no matter what.

After another half hour, Michael texted you that he’s ready when you are. He sent you the address and you couldn’t help trying to piece it together. You were somewhat familiar with the part of town where you were meeting, but not enough to figure out what he had planned. You let him know that you were on your way, sunscreen and sunglasses in tow.

After a short drive across town, you pulled into a fairly empty parking lot. Panic started to creep into your stomach until you spotted Michael standing outside his car at the other end, waving happily with a big grin on his face. As you parked, he came to the side of your door to help you out. He was always so sweet and thoughtful that it caused a permanent blush on your cheeks.

“Hi! How are you? I’m excited to see you again,” he signed, much improved from the last time you’d seen him. The smile on your face always seemed to accompany the warm blush when you were with Michael. “Me too!” you said as you looked around to see where he’d brought you. Your brows furrowed as you turned back to meet his gaze, “What are we doing here?” Determined to keep it a surprise, he told you that you would just have to be patient and wait. 

Patience is a virtue but not one you were known to possess, so you quickly pulled the things you needed out of your car and locked it up. Michael took your hand and led you down the sidewalk. You knew you were near the banks and you could smell the water but you still were at a loss for what you were doing.

The two of you strolled hand-in-hand for a few blocks, content with the silence between you. You had only known each other for a short time, but it made you happy to see that he had so quickly become comfortable with you. He wasn’t the same nervous, rambling man you first met, though you will admit you found him charming either way. When it came to navigating the hearing world, you were almost always outside of conversations and it made you feel warm that Michael didn’t see the need for mindless jabber. He was waiting until he could properly sign with you and that meant more than you could let him know. Instead, as you made your way wherever, you both watched the sparse tourists out and about the area for the afternoon. 

As you came upon a small path toward the banks, he motioned to the side to let you know that’s where you were headed. After a few more steps, you cleared the last row of buildings and saw the pier stretched out in front of you. Of course it was the pier and you couldn’t believe you didn’t realize sooner! You stopped for a second to take it in. It had been a while since you had gone to the pier because it was always a draw for visitors and you tended to avoid the large crowds. You took in the rows of carnival games and fried food stands outfitted in flashing lights before seeing a pair of tourists flying from one end to the other on a giant zipline. Your eyes went wide with shock and you shot a quick, worried glance at Michael. He began to laugh before he replied, “don’t worry - we’re just here for games and food!” He barely finished signing to reassure you before he wrapped your hand in his again and he took off, pulling you toward a pair of whack-a-mole seats.

The light crowd that afternoon meant that you could walk up to any stand without a wait to play and you were convinced Michael wanted to play every game there. When you were both beat out at whack-a-mole by the ten-year old next to you, you decided buzzer games probably weren’t your strong suit. The two of you raced between game stands in a never-ending fit of laughter. Some games had you competing against each other and the playful trash-talk amused the game attendants. Then, just as quickly as you’d started your banter, you’d find a single player game and become each other’s biggest cheerleader.

After losing at the cat rack, tin can alley, and the balloon bust, Michael wanted to try his hand at a game of chance, since clearly precision was not for him. His pace between games had slowed down considerably since you’d arrived and he was determined to win something to take home. He just hadn’t found much luck. The two of you wandered down the wooden platform with your fingers lazily entwined until you found the ring toss booth. You dropped his hand and signed excitedly to him that you’d find another game to try.

When he came very close to winning on several rings from the first bucket, Michael decided to give it a second go. The two of you tossed one red ring after another, almost making it many times but always watching them bounce off to the side. You picked up the last two rings in the bucket and handed one to Michael. His eyes met yours and you both nodded before turning back toward the game. He used his free hand to count down from three and you both sent the rings sailing through the air. You watched intently as they bounced around the bottle tops before Michael’s landed squarely around the golden glass bottle in the center.

He threw his arms up in the arm in victory as you looked at him with surprise and celebration on your face. His arms came down around your shoulders in a quick hug before the game attendant came over to help him claim a prize. Without hesitation, he turned to you and asked “Which one do you want?” You glanced up at the options and pointed out a small stuffed animal hanging right above you. As if on instinct, you hugged it to your chest when the attendant handed it over and thanked them and Michael. Smile on your face, stuffed animal in one hand, and Michael in the other hand, you couldn’t have been happier as you wandered between stalls.

The smell of something sweet caught your attention as you looked around to find the source. Michael must have read your mind because he began guiding you in the direction of the food stand without warning. To your surprise, the person inside the booth knew enough sign language to take your order without needing a pen and paper. Michael beamed from ear to ear watching your happiness as you were able to order treats for both of you. He only caught every second or third word, but he could see the elated smile on your face. Michael had needed to step in at most of the games throughout the afternoon, so you felt very excited to find someone who spoke your language.

Once you’d retrieved your treats and thanked the worker again, you began to walk back toward the parking lot leisurely. Just as you finished your snacks and were about to approach the end of the pier, you spotted a small photo booth kiosk. You grabbed Michael’s hand and tugged him off in that direction without much of a choice.The two of you piled onto the narrow seat and closed the curtain before you fed money into the machine. You selected a decorative frame with the date in the corner and the onscreen countdown began.

For the first pose, you held up the prize Michael won you with a toothy grin and he threw up a thumbs up, earning a laugh from you. You both pulled a funny face in the next pose and when it popped up on screen, you noticed that Michael had the tiniest bit of food stuck on the outside corner of his lips. You turned toward him and reached your hand up to rest on his cheek as your thumb swiped away the residue. Michael let out a small gasp as his face turned to you. The camera flash for the third picture caught you off guard and caused you to pull away as heat flushed over your cheeks. Before his confidence faltered, Michael cupped your face and brought his lips to meet yours. Your eyes fluttered closed briefly before he pulled away and looked into your eyes. You could read the hesitance in his expression until you placed a peck on his lips to tell him that it was okay. His mouth stretched into a wide smile and you felt your cheeks burn even hotter as you pulled back and glanced timidly at the stuffed animal in your lap.

Michael reached for the copies of the printed film strip at the bottom of the machine and flushed as he realized the last picture was of your kiss. He handed you a copy as he signed “cute” with a smile before opening the curtain and stepping out of the kiosk. You carried the photo strip in the same hand as your ring toss prize so you could hold Michael’s hand in the other. As you made your way back down the sidewalk to your parked cars, you leaned your head against his shoulder. He placed a sweet kiss to the top of your head with a smile, earning a contented hum from you before you fell back into silence for the next few blocks. You had known you would have a good afternoon with Michael, but it had exceeded all expectations.

———

taglist: @easierlftv @haikucal @kingcals @youngblood199456 @bookercth @atlcalm @another-lonely-heart @ashtonsos @castaway-cashton @itsjen223 @softbabiestan​

[designtutor]

The Future Is Now

From an educational standpoint, the way knowledge is being delivered is unprecedented. Educational resources can now be accessed from any part of the world thanks to cloud computing technology. Vital resources such as written lessons, audio lessons, videos, and video assignments can be stored on an educational institution’s server. Students may use these services from the safety of their own houses, complete tasks, and return them to their tutors. Students' flimsy reasons for not doing tasks might be a thing of the past. The hassle of bringing loads of books or basically staying at the library has been avoided thanks to advances in technology and high-speed Internet.

Prior to starting training at the Mauritius Institute of Education, I had very little knowledge about the mechanics of online learning and less so about online teaching. The wave of the pandemic in early 2020 have changed people’s perspective on how knowledge should be delivered. The taught module at the MIE, Bringing Technical Innovations in the Classroom (BTI), we learn about a handful of tools that we as teachers could use in our career and even use to help us as undergraduate students. I will share with you some platforms or tools we have learned in the BTI module.

Kahoot is one example of the tools that we experienced with to understand where it should fit in our teaching.  Kahoot is a game-based learning tool that is used in schools and other educational facilities as educational technology. Its learning apps, known as "kahoots," are multiple-choice quizzes created by users that can be played via a web browser or the Kahoot app. Kahoot can be used to test students' skills, study their work, or provide a break from typical classroom practices. Trivia quizzes are also available on Kahoot. Another software based tool that allows using quizzes as a form of formative assessment is Quizziz.

Quizizz is a company that develops creativity software that is used in the classroom, in community projects, for pre-test analysis, assessments, unit assessments, and impromptu tests. It encourages students and teachers to work together online. It employs a questionnaire-style teaching and learning approach in which a person answers a set of questions individually while competing against other users on the same quiz.

[chittaprint]

Bad With Words

Paring: Hendery (Wong Kunhang) x reader

Genre: fluff, romance, comedy, mild angst

A late christmas present to the lovely @cherrysweettea​ !! I hope you like it! Hendery is such a sweet angel, and I really tried to do him justice with this story despite not usually writing for these genres. I hope it’s enjoyable

“You need to give yourself more credit! You’ve worked so hard. Honestly, nobody deserves this opportunity more than you do,” you lectured, lightly rolling your eyes at Hendery’s, your best friend, antics. He was always doing this, thinking lowly of himself. Unfortunately, this was quite the habit of his.

“Yeah, I know, but so many other people dedicate their whole lives just to get this opportunity and done…” Hendery responded, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m thrilled, don’t get me wrong, but I still can’t believe that I, out of the tens of thousands of people who auditioned, got picked…” he trailed off. So humble. Although he was facing away from you, you could tell that he was reflecting on everything that had happened all within a matter of months. Hendery often talked to you about his case of imposter syndrome, his belief that he wasn’t good enough to join the ranks of celebrities. 

While it hurt you to see him constantly tear at his self-worth, it was nice to know someone who embodied so much talent and also such humility. Too many celebrities, in your opinion, understood that they were famous, that they were talented, and flaunted it as if it were some golden VIP card for superior treatment. Maybe it was different because you knew Hendery personally; he was one of your best friends and had never used his talent as a form of superiority. At heart, he really seemed just like an ordinary, kind boy.

“Exactly!” you jumped up out of the beanbag and extended your arms. Hendery’s dark eyes widened a bit in surprise and he stopped folding the shirt in his suitcase. “And SM is going to be so thankful to have an idol as hardworking and talented as you! Or at least he’d better be, or I’m going to fly to Seoul and fight Lee Soo Man on your behalf,” you declared, swiping your arms through the air dramatically. “Korean laws be damned, mess with my best friend and I’ll come for you – CEO? Secret assassin? Doesn’t matter.”

Hendery began to laugh as he crouched over his suitcase. He tried to cover his wheezy laughter with one of his hands, but he failed to mask the sound as per usual. It was also at this moment that he realized that he wasn’t going to get anymore packing done with you around, so he stopped and stood up. “Aw, but what if you get barred from our concerts?” He pouted. “What will I do without your support?”

You arched a brow at him and recoiled slightly in seeming shocked. Bringing a hand to your chest to feign disbelief and scoffing lightly, you replied, “have you forgotten that my acting skills are what got me accepted into our high school and my dream university? You’re talking to a future actress, here! If I received As on all my acting performances throughout high school then I can get past security.” It was all true.

Hendery laughed again, this time making no effort to hide his laugh, and you smiled. “Oh yes,” he pondered between laughs, “how could I forget. You really convinced Mr. Chen that he cancelled the quiz for that class, huh.”

A smile pulled at the corner of your lips in response as the fond memory resurfaced in your mind. Ah, junior year - that had been a particularly fun year. It was also the same year that Hendery had placed second in your school’s annual talent performance contest, which was no small feat considering you both attended one of the best performing arts academies in East Asia. “Only because you caught on and helped me,” you giggled slightly before sighing. “My point is,” you continued with an added emphasis, “you deserve this so much.” The smile grew on your face as his gentle eyes met yours, causing a small grin to swing up onto his lower face

Your eyes moved down to look at Hendery’s half-packed suitcase and the entire mood in the room seemed to shift somewhat. Whereas the space had seconds ago been filled light laughter and smiles, the atmosphere had no ebbed away into feelings of melancholy and unspoken uncertainties. Even the setting sun helped add to the effect. Hendery peered at you with a questioning look on his face, not quite sure what to think of your sudden change of attitude. That was until his eyes followed yours to his suitcase, and he understood everything; nothing needed to be said.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow...” the words escaped your mouth before you registered what you had just said. Just as quickly as the words had slipped out, you realized your mistake. Eyes widening and shoulders tensing, it took everything in your power not to slap your hand over your mouth or jump right out the window on your right. Oh, was it a tempting offer right now. 

You dumb emotions! Why is now that you decide to show yourself and not when I’m on stage and need you? you shouted mentally. “I–sorry,” you stammered, glancing at Hendery and hoping that your cheeks were not a crazy mess of pink. “I just–” but the words would not come out, and in fact no more words formed. Instead, you were restrained to only being allowed to do weird hand motions. Oh god, how did you hate your own vulnerability and emotions.

You may be a skilled actress with superior command over each of your performances and personas, but you were still human. Like everyone else – maybe more than most, in your opinion – your inner emotions, thoughts, and worries you lacked control over. They were rampant and destructive, like a wild storm at sea, and you did not know how to keep them in check. To make matters worse, the storm always seemed to rage at the most unpredictable moments. And oh did you hate it. You hated it because you knew they left you exposed to everyone around you; you could be hurt by even those who had nothing but good intentions.

Nothing needed to be said, however. Hendery just smiled and pulled you into a loose embrace against his chest. You didn’t protest because admittedly you liked the feeling and this wasn’t out of the normal for the two of you. Being friends for so long, Hendery had seen you at almost all of your lowest points, and you’d seen him at his. Each time, you’d helped each other back to your feet and move past whatever obstacle had knocked you down. You quite liked the feeling of knowing that you had someone who would be there for you no matter what. But now that Hendery was leaving, were things still going to be the same?

“Ah, worried that you’re not going to be able to get into enough trouble without me,” he teased, still holding you close to him. You could practically hear the smile in his voice and it made your heartbeat quicken ever so slightly. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you can get into trouble without–”

“It’s not just that,” you cut him off abruptly, placing your hands against his chest to step back slightly. You were so focused on the torrent of emotions in your chest and trying to control your heartbeat that you failed to notice Hendery change his embrace, and his hands rested gently on your waist.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

Do I really have the guts to tell him? You wondered to yourself. This question, again... It just loved to irritate you and invade your conscious at all the wrong times. “Yeah,” you let out a slightly shaky breath and refused to meet Hendery’s concerned yet curious eyes. “You know, you’re my best friend and I’m just a bit sad that you’re moving away from here,” you explained. Well, while it wasn’t the full truth, it wasn’t a lie either. While you were proud and ecstatic that Hendery was finally achieving a once-in-a-life-time opportunity, selfishly you were still upset to see your best friend go. Things were always like this; you could never fully express what you wanted to. Maybe being an actress and portraying fake personas was the only thing you were good at. Because while you immersed yourself in make-believe personalities and struggles, you failed time and time again to figure out your own troubles and express your own desires.

Of course, I don’t have the guts to tell him…

“You’re not going to get rid of me so easily,” Hendery clicked his tongue, almost as if he was scolding you. “I’m afraid to say,” he lifted up a hand close to your face, “you’re stuck with me,” he booped your nose. You stepped back a bit further in surprise, and Hendery’s grip on you disappeared. For a moment it seemed that something flashed across his face, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Hendery quickly walked over to his computer on the desk and began to rummage through the papers, looking for his keys. As he rummaged, your eyes skimmed over all of the photos on his bulletin board. It brought a bittersweet smile to your face as you spotted several of the two of you. All of them were happy and joyous memories, but each one left a faint bitter taste in your mouth, like a splash of lemon, as they reminded you that such times may not be possible in the future. You rubbed your arms softly as you gazed at one of the photos, in which you were both smiling brightly at the camera behind massive cat-eyed sunglasses and frilly scarves. A few months ago Hendery had taken you to visit one of his friends in Hong Kong. His friend threw a small party and there had been a massive prop box next to a photo booth. Being the ridiculous duo that you were, you’d spent over half an hour taking dramatic photos together in a photo booth with a wide variety of accessories.

“Y/n, are you sure this is a good idea? Your parents think that you are behaving yourself, and what if a photo of their intoxicated daughter gets out onto the internet.”

“Yo, easy solution – the bigger my sunglasses and hat are, the less likely my parents will recognize me.”

The memory forced a smile onto your face, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, which were clouded with a layer of sadness. Like all good things, nothing this good could last forever, surely. This really was your last night with your best friend, but it was still nice that he was taking time out of his schedule to spend it with you. That had to count for something, right?

Beneath the billboard, you spotted a yellow envelope. There was nothing that unique about it but something about the small item still called to you. You found yourself reaching for it, only for Hendery to snatch it away.

“Hey, what was that for?” You exclaimed, pouting.

“Some things are not meant for strange, prying eyes, you know,” he explained as he tucked the card into his jeans’ pocket.

“You’re not going to let me see?”

His expression wavered for a moment from one of teasing disapproval to slight remorse. “Well, maybe later, but not right now.” Then he went back to looking for his keys, as you stood by and watched.

“Okay, I got them!” Hendery exclaimed, holding up his keys. He pulled his red jacket off the back of the chair and began to put it on. “Are you ready to go to the Thai place?” His question drew you out of your trance.

“Huh?” Your eyes whipped back to his half-packed suitcase and scattered clothes on the floor. “But aren’t you in the middle of packing? Don’t you want to finish before we go out?” You quizzed, turning back in Hendery’s direction.

He just shrugged and twirled the keys around his fingers. “Well it’s clear that I’m going to get nothing done with you around, so I’ll just finish after dinner,” he explained. Before you could take a step toward the door, Hendery had moved behind you and began pushing you toward the exit. “Now come on,” he persuaded with a soft smile. “Let’s go since it’s just going to get busier and I have to sleep before my flight tomorrow.” He paused after the sentence, and you turned back to look at him. He had a strange look on his face like he was thinking about something worrying, something personal. You wondered just what was going on inside his mind. But before you could ask, he cut you off.

“Do you still want to come to the airport tomorrow with me?” He asked, but the questioned wavered with uncertainty almost like he was afraid you were going to say no.

“Yes, of course, I’m coming” you reassured, pulling your signature half-smile back into place. “How could you think that I’d let you leave without saying goodbye. I’m bringing a massive poster and everything,” you trailed off with a small laugh.

Both of you knew that you were joking about the poster, but your reassurance seemed to bring some relief to Hendery. A small smile reappeared on his face and the creases of stress began to ebb away. “Okay, good,” he replied quietly and you weren’t sure if he was speaking to you or more to himself.

Why did it have to be so hard to tell him how you actually felt? Every time you mustered up what little actual courage you had and faced him with the intention of coming clean, your voice always failed and your emotions broke the dam that was supposed to keep them secure. Each time the world seemed to shake and it felt as if the sky was going to come crashing down. It was just a few simple words, just the honest truth. So why was the truth the hardest thing for you to say to him? You weren’t sure if it was because you were afraid to admit it or you were just incapable of coherent and adult conversation. While you were a skilled actress, you never had been good with personal things, and especially formulating your words. If you had any control over these feelings you would banish them because to you there really was nothing more tragically cliche than this.

Hendery took you by the wrist and began to tug you down the hallway after him, saying: “if you’re going to be this slow, then I guess I’ll just have to drag you to the restaurant.” Your heart jumped slightly at the action and that strange feeling that you hated so much somersaulted in your gut.

“Hey, you could act a bit more chivalrous,” you called out to him as you both burst out the front door into the busy, bustling night of Macau. All you got in return, however, was his usual laugh. Nevertheless, you still smiled.

Yes, there was nothing more tragic – tragically comedic? – than realizing that you were in love with your best friend, a best friend who was destined for great things that didn’t involve you. What a classic cliche modern tragedy.

                                                      •••

The loud bass of the club music was just a blurred hum in your ears; dimmed red and blue flashing lights danced across every inch of your figure and every bottle of alcohol that you were currently eyeing up from your barstool. There was something so tempting about alcohol; it was alluring and welcoming, but still dangerous and extremely destructive. Hah, it’s just like love, you realized. Your e/c eyes skimmed over each label with an intense focus as if analyzing something forbidden that you would never see again.

Lifting your glass, you downed the last of your drink. While it burned the back of your throat ever so slightly, you enjoyed even more the feelings of lightness and peace that the drink inflicted on you. You felt as if you were floating, as if the weight of all your responsibilities, worries, and unanswered questions had suddenly disappeared from your shoulders. You knew that it was only a temporary feeling paired with an unhealthy habit, but the sensation of freedom was still nice and you welcomed it.

You dropped your glass and beckoned to the waiter with your hand, immediately gaining his attention. “Yo, Eric, can I get another glass please,” you called out to him.

“No, actually she’s had enough for right now! Thank you, Eric,” Hendery spoke up next to you, dismissing the waiter. Eric, the bartender, lingered for a few seconds in confusion before several other young adults waved him over to take their orders. Meanwhile, Hendery stealthily moved your empty glass away from you.

You groaned and turned to look at him in your slightly drunken stupor. You pouted out your lower lip, slumping down on the bar. “Aw, and here I thought you were going to be more fun tonight,” you complained slowly. Spotting your drink in his hand you tried to steal it back, but Hendery just moved it farther with apparent ease. “Heeeenderrry, pleeease,” you whined, trying to reach for the glass. “I swear, I’m, like, totally fine right now. I–”

“Nuh-uh,” Hendery just shook his head and turned on his barstool to face you. “No more drinks for you, at least not for now,” he declared loudly over the beat of the music with a tone of authority. You just groaned and rolled your eyes in protest as he patted your back gently. 

God, why was he always like this, so attentive, cautious, and caring? He was acting like a responsible older brother, keeping a careful eye on their more reckless younger sibling. You weren’t sure for which reason you hated his behavior more, because a destructive part of you wanted to get absolutely obliterated tonight or because he probably saw you as a sister, and you clearly didn’t see him the same way. Maybe – definitely – it was a combination of both factors.      

You weren’t sure how long you had been zoning out, but you were suddenly brought back to reality by Hendery snapping his fingers in front of your face. You didn’t lift your head from the bar but shifted to look up at his face. “Do you want to do something or stay here and recover,” you think you heard him ask, but it was so loud in the club that you weren’t certain if you’d actually heard him or not. Maybe in hindsight, those three drinks hadn’t been the best idea. Hendery was still watching you with a mildly concerned expression, so you smiled at him through your drunk giggles. The pulsing lights decorated each angle and crevice of his face and neck, painting him like an abstract canvas. Maybe it was partially due to your tipsy state, but you remembered thinking about how special and handsome he looked in that particular moment.

Do you want to do something? The question echoed in the back of your mind, and you smiled slightly even though it was meant for yourself. If I was more capable of handling my emotions, I’d kiss you and tell you how I really felt, you idiot. But of course, you couldn’t. A part of you twinged with regret that you still couldn’t admit your honest feelings even in such a state. Weren’t people supposed to be at their boldest and most honest while drunk? Well, perhaps it didn’t matter. After all, you were with each other right now, and you both should make the most of your experience. That was good enough for you.

Slinking off your barstool with a drunk smile, you took him by the hands, pulling him along with you toward the raging dance floor. “Come on,” you called, looking back at him through hazy eyes. “Let’s go dance!”

                                                          •••

“Y/n, I have something really important that I want to tell you.” You never found out what Hendery wanted to tell you because you both got swept away by the dancefloor.

You couldn’t recall everything that happened on the dancefloor. You just remembered how loud and packed it was with young adults in similar if not more drunken states. The music had just been a blur in your ears as you moved your body to the rhythm. One thing you did remember though was holding on to Hendery’s hand the entire time to make sure that you wouldn’t get separated in the massive crowd of chaos. And as you smiled and danced next to him, he’d smiled and danced along too. For a second, everything felt normal; it was like you were the only two people on the dance floor, and the world didn’t exist around you; it had been almost the perfect reality, and you had wanted to live in that moment forever.

But then some other drunk accidentally spilled his drink all over your shirt, ruining the illusion. Like any good friend, Hendery had quickly pulled you off the dance floor toward the restrooms. There he insisted that you change into his jacket because there was no way he was going to take you home looking like that. Even drunk, you reasoned that it was better to not show up at your home smelling of alcohol so you accepted his offer.

I really do look like a hot mess right now, you mused to yourself as you tried to wipe away the smears of alcohol off your skin with a wet paper towel. You were aware that there was no feasible way that you were going to clean this all off, but at least Hendery had given you his jacket. Pushing your hair back, you zipped up the red jacket and stared at your reflection in the mirror. Well, at least you looked a bit more put together now. Behind the sharp smell of sweat and alcohol, the jacket smelled like him. Your eyes widened slightly. Whoa, hold on, now that you thought about it, wasn’t this something that boyfriends did with their girlfriends? Oh my god. At the realization, that familiar untamed feeling backflipped in your stomach, and you immediately shouted at the feeling to dissipate.

You shoved open the door to see Hendery standing against the wall in his white tank top, waiting for you. He straightened up as he spotted you exit, and for a second it looked as if he’d lost his breath. But you’d shared clothes many times before, so why was he acting this way now? It was a bit weird, but you quickly dismissed it and walked over to him.

The two of you walked outside and were greeted by the cool night air. While the night was still alive with rushing cars and bustling people, you felt a sense of peace. “Do you want to go home?” Hendery asked.

A smirk crawled onto your lips as you eyed him. “Trying to get rid of me already, huh,” you teased, laughing and punching his shoulder lightly.

“I didn’t mean it like–”

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” you replied, tacking on, “let’s walk to the waterfront at least and then we can finally head back home.” Let’s just make this night as long as possible. After all, it would be your last one together for a while.

You and Hendery walked up the street, side by side, taking in all of the night festivities. Sign lights blinked, cars honked, and people bustled along the streets. You talked some, bringing up old funny and sentimental memories. While they were all sweet memories, there was now a certain bitterness to them as the reality of your situation hit you: you were scared of losing your best friend. You knew that in actuality you weren’t losing him, but the possibility of such a thing still terrified you. While the night brought a sense of peace, the storm inside your gut continued to rage, growing more vicious with each passing moment. Calm on the outside, everything was a whirlwind just beneath the skin. You only hoped that these feelings would dissipate.

But they didn’t.

And as you neared the waterfront, the dam containing your emotions broke and you lost control. Stopping in your walk, you drew in a shaky breath and Hendery turned to face you, seeming slightly concerned.

“Is everything ok–” he began to ask, but you cut him off before he could get a full sentence out.  

“I–Hendery,” your words had become like putty in your mouth, intangible and incomprehensible. You could feel your heart beat rapidly in your throat, but even that wasn’t enough to stop the words coming out of your mouth. “I–ha, you know, like, I’m bad with words, but I-uh, I really want to kiss you right now.”

“What?” he replies just above a whisper, and the bewildered tone matched perfectly with how you were feeling on the inside. The way he said it though leaves you confused as to whether he didn’t understand what you had just said or was in shock because of that. But none of that mattered at the moment.

Feeling like a puppet in your own skin, you took a few steps toward him until you were standing right in front of him. You tilted your chin to look up at him, and the second you met his eyes you realized that he had his own storm raging inside of him. The look in his eyes revealed that a million thoughts and questions seemed to be rushing through his mind, but you couldn’t understand a single one of them. Your mind was elsewhere.

I’m such a hot mess, a rational realization surfaced in your mind that was still spinning at a hundred miles an hour. Yes, maybe you were a hot mess, but at least you were an honest one. You accepted the fact that you were scared of losing your connection with one of the people who mattered most to you, and you resented that you hadn’t been fully honest with him about your true feelings. And like people say, there is no time like the present; aided by the effects of alcohol, you reasoned that this was the best opportunity you were going to get to be open.

“You idiot,” you whispered as hot liquid built up in the corners of your eyes. You jabbed your finger into his chest. “D-don’t you see that I like you.”

You weren’t sure who acted first, whether you kissed him or he kissed you, but it happened. It was a soft and short kiss, but despite that you could feel the depth and emotions of affection and long-time longing behind the action. It was when you pulled away that the embarrassment of the situation finally hit your finally sobering mind.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry,” you pulled back and your hands flew to your face. While a large part of you was relieved that you had finally come clean, another part of you was burning with embarrassment. “I don’t know what overcame me. I just–you know–ha ha,” your explanation was no more coherent than your earlier statement, and you laughed half-joylessly half-embarrassed as you wiped a tear from your eye.

Only once your mind and gut began to calm down did you look up. Hendery was still watching you, and when you met his eyes this time you felt calm. It was strange because usually you felt the frantic wings of butterflies almost every time you were with him, but now that feeling was replaced by serenity. You weren’t sure why this was, but you weren’t sure you wanted to understand either.

“Oh, come here,” Hendery cut off your babbling by pulling you into an embrace up against his chest. Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, but you didn’t resist. Rather, your body seemed to instinctively relax into the embrace. “I really like you, too,” he mumbled against the top of your head.

Like usual, your words failed you, and you weren’t sure how to respond so you just reciprocated the hug. Actions seemed to speak louder than words because as you stood there intertwined everything became clear; all your uncertainties disappeared, and your mind felt clear. You knew exactly what he meant, and he understood you.

After some time you began to speak again. “I would never guess you could love a mess like me,” you admitted, still smiling as you drew away from him. You both continued walking toward the approaching waterfront, but this time your fingers were just barely hooked around each other.

“Maybe I’m just drawn to destruction,” Hendery chuckled lightly at the comment. “You’re like a tornado, but a very cute and lovable tornado.”

That might have been the strangest compliment you’d ever received, but it still brought a large smile to your face and made sparks ignite in your chest.

You approached the waterfront and stared out at the open darkness. On the other side of the water, you could make out the lights aligning buildings, shops, and bridges against the night sky. You both used to spend a lot of time down by the waterfront together when you were younger. It felt sentimental coming back to it after all this time, but there was also a sense of closure.

“Um, I know you think you’re the only one bad with words here,” Hendery started, “but I’m pretty bad myself.” That caused you to turn and look at him. He looked a bit nervous, but there was still a small smile on his face, which let you know that everything was okay. Before you could ask what he meant by that, he pulled out the small yellow envelope from his pocket. It was the same one that you’d tried to pick up from his desk earlier that evening.

Hendery eyed it for a few seconds before he moved it in your direction. “I was going to give this to you later and tell you not to read it until after I left, but I guess that after this then it isn’t that important,” he explained as you took the envelope from him.

“What’s in it?” You asked without looking up.

“A few photographs and a letter...where I say I love you,” he admitted in an almost timid manner. He looked almost like a young boy shyly confessing to his crush, how cute.

You opened up the envelope and pulled out of the photographs. Another wide smile immediately manifested itself on your face as you looked down at one of the photos. You were both smiling widely at the camera in summer clothing as the waterfront rested just behind the two of you. Gosh, you both looked so young. You remembered this day. It was after your first day of high school, and you and Hendery had set off down by the waterfront to talk about your first impressions of the school and all the teachers. Now that you thought about it, you were standing in the exact same spot as that day.

Turning to Hendery, you declared excitedly, “let’s take a photo together!”

“Right now? In the dark?” He questioned, seeming confused.

You rolled your eyes and placed your hands on your hips. “Come on, it’s our last night together and I want it to be special with you. We might as well take a second to memorialize the moment,” you suggested, quickly adding, “plus, phones’ cameras have a flash on it.”

Hendery looked like he was thinking about it for a second before nodding his head in agreement and smiling. Excited, you quickly moved over next to him. Hendery smiled at your excitement and wrapped an arm around your waist, as you both looked up into the camera that you held. Behind you, the city lights reflected off the dark water. Just as you went to click the button, you felt Hendery kiss your cheek. You visibly blushed and couldn’t force away the smile on your face. You hoped that the camera captured the moment.

Yet, when you brought the phone close for your viewing, only the home screen greeted you. Wait, what?

“The app crashed!” You exclaimed in shock.

“See this is why you didn’t major in film and photography,” Hendery teased next to you, giving you a slight squeeze. “You don’t know how to operate a camera properly. We really need to buy you some professional lessons.” You knew that his teasing was all in good spirit.

“You think this is all my fault,” you gasped, turning on him. Waving your arms, you declared, “I take one photo of you and the camera breaks! You’re obviously cursed.”

“Only because I let myself be around you,” he replies as he pulls you into another embrace.  You weren’t sure what would happen now or what would become of you in the future, but you were satisfied with the present and that is what mattered most at the moment. You knew that you were a bit of a mess, but that was okay because Hendery and others seemed to love that about you. And sometimes messes were necessary because you would not be able to discover things without cleaning them up. Because while your heart may have been a mess, at least it was an honest one.

“Looks like I’m going to have to hire the best security at my concerts, hmm.”

You smiled. “You wouldn’t dare.”

[dclevinson]

7/18/20: a dada manifesto

Ouisa Kittredge, the surprise heroine of John Guare’s play Six Degrees of Separation, can take conversations suddenly in surprising directions. At one such moment, where a listener seems perplexed by something she’s just said, O’s art dealer husband Flan shrugs and says: “Louisa is a dada manifesto”

  What is Cindy thinking and how does her mind work? Her cognitive therapist can break down specific processing skills and deficits, but I’m always interested in the look and feel of how it shapes her interactions with the world around her. If Cindy’s been by herself for a bit, I never know what her mental state will be when I return. Could be ten minutes at the kitchen table or an hour resting in bed. She often says something along the lines of: I was Just About To get up, go upstairs, get a sweater, do this or that, etc.

Occasionally in her wheelchair chair she’ll follow a statement about movement with some effort to get up. Maybe an assertions or “face” saying that she doesn’t get why I’m telling her she can’t stand on her own. A typical response is a cagey: “I don’t know about that.” Better than looking at me as if I’ve got four heads, which she might do too.  Evasive, uncertain, or struggling to find the words to say what she intends? Not infrequently I’ll ask her  a question and she’ll say something like: somebody just asked that, opened that, did that. My response: You realize I did it? She: I realize it was done by someone.

 If she’s having a sudden headstrong moment where she’s determined to get somewhere or do something she can’t, I’m better off waiting till the moment blows over, like a summer storm. Or trying to reset the moment. A joke or starting something else works better than You Can’t. Her default mood is less motivated and (seemingly) complicated, but more accepting of the moment, whether it’s looking out the window, at photos of her grandson’s latest, or cutting (slowly) vegetables for dinner. Recently I responded to one unattainable desire like this: Cindy, it would be a huge cognitive leap if you ever actually did that. And a huge cognitive leap if you realized it would be a huge cognitive leap if you did that! She laughed and we could move on. I always fear that her physical abilities (getting up on her own), getting out of bed on her own) will leap ahead of her ability to use those safely. I think of Goethe’s maxim, whatever liberates our spirit without providing self discipline is disastrous. So far the dicey balance has held.

 Not sure if there’s some default framing her mind does or she wants to be able to get up so much she just insists she can. I keep searching for ways to describe the way her mind works.There’s the handy computer metaphor: she sometimes needs a restart. Or I’ll recall how cog therapy has shown she has a chaotic memory storage and retrieval system that requires sustained attention she often can’t give. It’s always fascinating (not just) to see how much better she manipulates language in exercises than, say, numbers. Little clues, strewn all over the landscape of our daily life. Her cognitive therapist tells me that every concrete training element takes lots of repetitive practice. Like her, I do better with some tasks than others.

 A little while back I was trying to get her to think of pulling her covers up if cold in bed. I asked what she might do in such a situation. She: go upstairs and get a sweater. Oops. Another habitual response is for her to ask: do you need help? In many cases, clearly not doable. My most frequent response is, I’ve got it, thanks.

She can have momentary or short lived mental status elevator plunges --- or is that what happens to my stomach if some of these moments last more than an initial call and response cycle? Recently, I held out her electric toothbrush, which she’s been using for months and months now, and she said, what am I supposed to do with this stick? Did she not recognize what it was? Think she’d already brushed? Just struggle for words? When not sharp it can be hard to tell, and I do get all three states. She can be both precise and imprecise. Where is her head and what level of question is she working at when I move her wheelchair close to her bed and she asks: Are you going to put me in that thing again? Well, yeah…

Sometimes the issue is how words and thoughts mesh. When she said, ” I’ve got a thing in my face.”, the “in” was the key clue for me: something stuck in her teeth it turned out.

 And then there are lots of moments when she is super clever:

 Me: You know something?

She: I know many things. What did you have in mind?

 A photo imessage of our grandson with some early first real foods was captioned adventures in kale-ing. C says: Like Mindy? Not confusion. She was instantly playing with the two meanings.

 Reading a Globe food critic Devra Furst story she riffs on the byline: “Devra first, last and always…”

 She still will shout out, correctly, answers to NPR Sunday morning word quiz/ One recent quick catch in category of words with only T and H as consonants. Query: type of yoga. Answer: Hatha.

 Her memory for song lyrics consistently astounds, and a week or so back she pulled out a full line from Joni Mitchell’s Both Sides Now as a conversational (not sung!) response. I remarked that I hadn’t got a lot done and she said as naturally as can be: So many things I would have done/But clouds got in my way.

And don’t be that person around her who uses data as a singular noun…