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eleganzadellarosa · 9 months

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Coffee Kisses ☕️ | Part 1

pairing: barista!kyungsoo x poc reader (ft. Baekhyun)

genre: fluff (if you do a spin and blink), smut, angst

warnings: MDNI (masturbation (m), mentions of oral sex and penetration), fast paced plot

word count: 4.6k+

A/N: This is going to be a two part fic, this first part being from Kyungsoo’s POV and the second from the reader’s. As always, enjoy and thanks for reading :)

taglist: @sleepingbeautydo

part 2 here

Grind the beans, dose, tamp, purge, pull and pour. It was so much of a habit now that I knew it like the back of my hand; could do it with my eyes closed. Everyone has something they’re good at and for me it’s anything related to coffee. For someone who doesn’t drink it often, espressos are my favorite to make simply because of how precise you have to be with each step to ensure the perfect cup. It makes me feel like a master at work, something I can actually brag about even though I would never.

I love walking in every morning to start my day with the smell of the assortment of coffee beans. It keeps me awake during my shifts, caffeinating my senses with each whiff. But she, she was the highlight of my day. The excitement from hearing the bells chime above the door just to see her figure walk through. I’ve never known for my heart to beat so fast around anyone and to grow a blush on my cheeks immediately, my face so red that it spreads to my ears. Thankfully I’m successful from hiding it from her so she doesn’t notice.

"Hi Kyungsoo!"

Her voice and smile have to be the deadliest combination, just the way she says my name makes it feel exotic, fun, seductive. She easily remembered it after a few days of consistently seeing it on my name tag. I hope she didn’t catch me staring before the cat let go of my tongue.

“Hey, how are you? I’ll have your order ready in a bit.”

I knew what she wanted, why wouldn’t I? Her ability to stick to routine made it easier but even if she ordered something different off the menu each time I would know before she uttered a word. I shouldn’t be so consumed by her presence, yet every time she’s around, the perfection I’ve practiced gets clammy and slips through my fingers. My body was no longer on autopilot, her drink HAD to be perfect; the right amount of everything so I could get that gold star.

While waiting for her order to be ready, I reward myself with glances her way as she waits patiently. I’ve been lied to all my life about what angels look like because they never describe her. Skin brown like the coffee beans I brew every day, eyes like the sun setting upon the sand and hair fluffy like the inside of a castella cake. No exaggeration to say she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. If only I had the courage to tell her that since my lingering glances don’t do the job.

I cherish the split second my fingers brush against hers as I hand her the cup. She flashes me another prize winning smile that never fails to take my breath away. I can’t help but feel like a stalker with the way I watch her walk back to her table to take the first sip. The way she closes her eyes and a small smile spreads across her face like she’s in complete bliss. I wonder if her expression would be the same if my head was between her legs. Shit, I can’t think like that if I don't want an obvious tent in my pants.

“Umm excuse me, do you have alternative milks available?”

Oh right, I have other customers beside her that I have to tend to. It’s dumb how upset I get when I can’t follow her every movement but she’s my favorite show to watch and now I’m starting to think my job is getting in the way; yet it's the only channel where she's available. The middle of the week was usually pretty slow but of course on the day I could fill my day with nothing but her existence, the flood of people come rushing in. I’m obviously not the only employee here but it feels like it when I want to hurry and get everyone gone to go back to my favorite pastime.

Like clockwork, she always leaves 30 minutes after she finishes her coffee and I never have anything to say or do to make her stay; which in turn is one of my biggest downfalls. Why am I such a pussy when it comes to her? I want her so badly yet I can’t say anything off script. Instead of leaving immediately, she was coming back up to the counter. A break in routine? Something had to be up. I smiled at her, maybe a little too happily but she smiles back with just as much shine. I almost had the chance to break free from my monotonous dialogue but the customer in front of me finally speaks up to order.

Fuck, such a missed chance. Her eyes were sad but understanding and she waved before leaving out the door. I switched off with another worker as soon as I finished the order so I can take my break, hopefully catching her outside before she walks too far. To my disappointment, she was nowhere in sight no matter how far I looked in each direction. Fate was so cruel giving me the opportunity but not enough time to change my life for what I know would be the better.

Whatever she wanted to tell me had to be important as I haven’t seen her in weeks. I could only hope she was okay but I had no way of contacting her, something I could only blame myself for. I waited everyday for her but she never came and every cup of espresso I made felt pointless. Where was she? What did she want to tell me? It was time to clock out and taking the apron off made me want to quit altogether. I felt a hand tap me on my shoulder before I made it out the back.

“Hey Kyungsoo, listen I need to talk to you about something important. You’ve been here the longest and you’re my best barista so I figured I should tell you first.”

My boss. He was chill overall, teaching me some of the skills that I possess today. He’s what I’d call a father figure if my father wasn’t a big part of my life already. “Thank you for thinking of me first. What’s going on?”

He takes a deep breath and sighs loudly so I know the next words are going to be bad news. “I’m selling the cafe. I’m getting older and I’m ready to retire. I wanted to pass it down to you but I never got the chance to talk to you and I have way too much debt to pay back and wouldn’t want to put that on you.”

It was in fact bad news and not even because I was sad about losing my job. I was losing the only connection I had with her and I wasn’t able to tell her. “W-what? When? How much time do we have left?”

“Well I’ve already sold it, I didn’t have much time to decide before the buyer called off the deal. We’re closing next month. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner sport.”

Hah, calling me sport after giving me the worst news of my life. Such a parent thing to do. I didn’t have a say so in this, I definitely didn’t have the money to keep this business afloat and to be honest I’d only really want it just to have the chance of seeing her again. If I wasn't afraid of the way I'd be judged, I'd cry right now just to release all the anger I've accumulated in the last 3 minutes.

The drive home felt like an endless road, the thoughts running through my head making it hard for me to keep track of time. It's times like these that I wish I could call her and vent and be comforted by the warm tone of her voice. I fucked up badly and it hurts knowing there's no one else to blame.

I hung my coat on the rack next to the front door and dragged myself over to the couch to flop down onto it face first. There had to be some way I could find out who she is just to let her know that the cafe wouldn't be here much longer; that I wouldn't be there much longer. I tried and tried to think but every plan fell through right into the shredder. I felt like I was being laughed at for not excusing myself and finding out what she wanted to say to me. The one day that she was actually going to say something different, I did the polite thing. Whatever. I still had a month left to wait for her, to see her again, to speak to her again. All I could do now was hope she actually showed up.

This was it, the last day open for business. I had already grown tired of telling everyone why we were closing especially since I didn’t get to tell the most important person. Was she really gone for good? Did I really miss my chance to talk to her and build a relationship outside of this cafe? It felt weird knowing this would be my last time wiping down the tables, mopping the floor, coming to a place that felt like a second home. I reluctantly locked the door and changed the sign from open to closed. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass, I looked pitiful. I was desperate, if she came to the door right now, I’d unlock it in a heartbeat.

She never came.

My boss came and patted me on the shoulder before he told me it was time to go. "Sorry sport, gotta turn these lights out, it's time to lock up for good."

I grabbed my stuff and made sure my locker was empty before following him out. One last look around the cafe and the gate was pulled down as if I was closing my eyes. Doing that alone already made it look abandoned. I tried again to rack my brain for any way that I could let her know where I was and how to contact me, but once again there was nothing I could do.

I walked to my car and made sure the boss got to his safely. He turned around before getting in. "Hey uh Kyungsoo, wait just a sec." He walked over to me and swallowed the lump in his throat before hugging me tight. "Don't become a stranger, you have my number."

"Don't worry Frank, I won't forget about you. Thank you for everything."

He nodded and patted me on the back before we each went out separate ways.

I no longer had to set my alarm so early and having so much time on my hands felt like a crime. My life had no purpose besides finding her and telling her exactly how I felt but even that dream seems far fetched. I started drinking more coffee, having a cup every day just to feel something; just to get a spark of energy.

I realized how I never developed any other hobbies besides making coffee now that I was no longer doing it. I guess this is why people endlessly scroll on social media and to be honest I didn't have the energy to do anything else. Unfortunately for me, my entertainment was cut short when my phone started ringing, the name "Baekhyun" flashing at the top. I'm sure if I rolled my eyes any harder they would have fallen out my head. Baekhyun is a very close friend of mine, but I knew why he was calling and I was over the conversation before it even started.

Reluctantly I answered it, waiting for his high pitched voice on the other end. "Kyungsoo~" he said in a sing-songy voice, already getting me upset before he reveals the reason for his call.

"What do you want Baek?"

"That's not how you speak to a friend who has something you want."

"Something I want?" I didn't expect much from him, but I was curious what he found interesting enough to think I wanted it. "What is it?"

"See, I knew you'd be curious! But first are you still sad over that girl from the cafe?"

I can't help but scoff hearing him say what I knew was true, but coming from him made it sound like he interrupted me from digging my grave as we spoke. "I have some regrets...just tell me what it is Baek."

I could hear him lowly chuckle on the other end and now I was starting to get annoyed with his confidence. I’ve known Baekhyun for years know, I consider him a good friend but now I’m rethinking my decision.

“What if I told you, I found your precious jewel?”

My ears perked up at the word precious. “Why are you talking about?”

“I happen to know someone who knows her and now I have an IG you can stalk.”

My heart was racing, more so than I’d have liked. But knowing that I finally had a way to contact the love of my life excites me in ways I couldn’t describe.

“What the hell Baek? How do you even know what she looks like?” I questioned him but it was more so for me to stall. Did I actually want to know what she’s been up to? Why she chose to leave in the first place?

“Stop asking so many questions! Do you want it or not?”

“Wha- I-I mean I guess so?”

He sucked his teeth, telling me he already sent me the info and to take advantage of it before hanging up. I couldn’t help but stare at the message containing the change to my fate. My fingers were shaking just opening the app so I could search her up. I found it without me being finished typing. Surprisingly her account was public, any pair of eyes able to see the goods. She’s absolutely gorgeous and seeing a new side of her only made me love her more. Once again, I felt like a creep just mindlessly scrolling through her pictures.

Then, like a thorn on a rose, there was a picture of her with some guy. I shouldn't feel jealous but I do. He has his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Harmless right? The captions showing three confetti popper emojis. Could it symbolize an anniversary? A birthday? She tagged him in the post but his account was private so there was no way I could continue to snoop and find out who this guy was. Maybe I was thinking about this too deeply. And hell, who's to say that I would even have a chance with her. Just wishful thinking I suppose.

Baekhyun was calling me again like he could hear me doubting myself. "What Baek?"

"Oh I'm sorry, did I interrupt your stalking?" I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Hey I'm not stalking her, this is my first time being on her page."

"Sure suuure buddy, whatever you wanna call it. Are you gonna message her?"

It didn't cross my mind that way. I could actually "slide into her DMs" and talk to her. Would she want to talk to me? What if that is her boyfriend and I just end up making myself look stupid? "I-I don't know..."

"Ahh come on Kyungsoo, you're right there man, all you gotta do is hit her up. I'm sure if she had something to tell you that day, she wouldn't mind telling you now."

"What if she has a boyfriend?" I dazed myself with the question and I bit the nail on my thumb trying to shake the nervousness out of my system.

"A boyfriend? Hmm...I mean then she has a boyfriend, but at least you can find out now instead of letting this go on forever. If you like her, just make it known and see where it gets you."

He was right, but I couldn't accept the rejection if it came down to it. She was the light in a dark tunnel and I would hate for it to be blocked off. For now I could just follow her and see if she followed me back. My sweaty finger pressed onto the follow button and I wanted to throw my phone just so I didn’t have to see what happened next.

It had been going on a few months now and still no follow back. I would occasionally check to see if she posted but she never did. It almost felt like she didn't just so she wouldn't have to interact with me. I felt stupid, stupid for allowing myself to fall in love so quickly and be so hasty with everything. If she were to ever show her face again, I hope to get even a little bit of an explanation.

I had found another job working at a different cafe, but of course it didn't feel the same. Today was my only day off for the week and I decided to finally give in to Baekhyun's begging and pleading to hang with him and a few friends at a bar. It wasn't a typical bar, it felt more like a restaurant with a bar attached to it, but the piss drunk guys that left would probably say otherwise. Baek's shoulder bumped into mine and I looked over at him to see he looked like he was waiting for me to say something.

"Sorry, what?" Maybe the drinks were getting to me and I just hadn’t noticed.

"I said, this is the friend that knows the girl from the cafe."

My face felt warm and I wanted to hide in a corner. Why'd he have to put me on the spot like that? It made me sound like a crazy person. "Oh, really? Nice to meet you." I tried to sound as calm as possible but knowing me, my face or ears were red with embarrassment.

The guy leaned over to shake my hand. His grip was firm and his hands were kind of big. Actually he was kind of big. I didn't pay him much mind before now, but boy was this dude tall.

"Nice to meet you too, Kyungsoo right? I'm Chanyeol."

He had a mouth full of teeth and when he smiled, all of them showed so easily. He seemed bubbly just like Baek, which is probably why they're friends. His head would fall back and he would hit the person next to him every time he laughed. The jokes weren't even that funny, but then again, he's been downing his drinks like they're water.

"So, Kyungsoo, I heard you got ignored." Baekhyun shot him a death glare, and punched him in the arm making him wince.

I'm going to fucking kill you Baekhyun I said in my mind but showed with my gritted teeth and clenched jaw. "If you wanna put it that way, sure."

"Well I wouldn't say you got ghosted because I haven't spoken to her either. She's been kind of MIA. I mean we didn't talk too often, but she hasn't responded to any of the messages I sent her."

I was hopeful again but this time I didn't want to get too ahead of myself. Knowing she wasn't active with anyone made it a lot better for me but it also made me worry. "Maybe she's just spending a lot of time with her boyfriend."

"Her boyfriend? She's single...haha oh dude, you must have seen that picture with her and her best friend. Trust me, he's far from a boyfriend. She probably just had to go back to the states for something. I'm sure she'll be back."

Well, that's a relief. She doesn't have a boyfriend but there's no guarantee she'd be back here to see me. "Wait, how'd you know she's the girl I was talking about?" This question has always lingered in the back of my mind but I just trusted Baek enough to give me the right information.

"Uh probably because she's mentioned you so many times before? She would only go to that cafe to see you, she doesn't even like coffee unless you make it. I wasn't sure you were who she was talking about until Baek told me which cafe you worked at and mentioned you were the "bald guy who makes espressos."

Before I could even protest, Baek rubbed his hands together apologetically. None of that mattered right now, I couldn't dwell on the anger. She only liked the coffee that I made her? What a way to make a guy's dick hard, or mine at least. And the fact that I was on her mind too didn't make it any better for the blood rushing to my lower half. "What? She came in there every day, there's no way she came in to just see me."

"No, I'm pretty sure that's the reason. She kept trying to make me come with her just to get a cup but no offense, I'm not into espressos like that. She also said something about you being really cute and always so ready to take her order. I think she has a crush on you man, trust me she doesn't talk about any other guy like that."

Now I really felt the heat in my face. Maybe the alcohol was kicking in because my head felt dizzy too. Maybe I needed to put the drinks down. A conversation has never gotten me so excited, but I've also never spoken to her besides taking her order so we'll stick a pin in it for now. As much as I wanted it to, it didn't give me the confidence to try and message her, especially since she doesn't seem to be logged in anymore. Now all I could do was pray that she came back just so I could have the chance to speak to her one more time. I wouldn't be too shy this time, I would actually tell her how I felt and ask her out on a date.

By the time I got back home, my head was pounding, all the drinks I consumed finally catching up to me. Flopping onto the bed on my stomach, my head filled with nothing but thoughts of her. Was she actually attracted to me or did I just make good coffee? I mean both could be taken as a compliment but I could care less how she felt about my espressos. The intoxication made me horny to the point that I felt like I'd explode if I didn't do something about it.

I rushed to lay on my back and release my dick from the jeans I wore, pressure noticeably getting better no longer constricted by the fabric. The tip leaked viciously, indicating just how lewd my thoughts were becoming. The blood rushed back to the aching length when I wrapped my warm hand around it, only increasing the sticky substance.

It felt good, to imagine it was her hand instead of mine. I could only dream of what it would be like seeing her sitting in front of me in nothing but a lacy set, perfect hands engulfing my shaft enjoying every second our skin made contact. It was becoming all too much, the sweat accumulating on my forehead and neck.

I pumped my hand faster and thought of her more and more as I started to remove the last pieces of fabric that shielded her from nudity. Soon she was in nothing but her skin, more beautiful than she was just a few seconds ago. She paused her movements only to drape a legs over my waist and position herself so that she was aligned perfectly with the angry red head.

Slowly…slowly…she eased her way down and before I could reach the deepest depths of her, I snapped out of my thoughts, body tensing up viciously, slightly shaking. I made a mess. My hands covered in the white liquid that also landed on my chest and stomach. It made me realize it’s been quite some time since I had some alone time with myself. Well now this shirt had to go in the wash along with my jeans.

On the way back from the laundry room I had to ask myself what I was doing. There’s no point of using her as a thought to push me over the edge if our future was still undetermined. I now sat on the bed in just my boxers feeling guilty about thinking about her like that. I was too caught up in my feelings and luckily I could blame most of it on the alcohol.

It would be hard but I had to be patient and wait it out. Please return to me is all I could ask for as I fell back against my pillow and closed my eyes for the night.

It's been a year now. A year since I've last seen her and it's safe to say I've given up. No one has spoken to her that I know of and for all I know, she could never plan on coming back. Things were going well for me at my new job though, I was promoted to manager within the first 6 months and I've been giving everyone pointers on how to make the best drinks. There was of course a sense of happiness I felt being in my element again but I wish I could go back and try again. No one has made me as happy as she did and it was snatched away from me before I had the chance to savor it, but in my defense I never knew it would be gone.

It was almost time for me to clock out, much needed as the day was quite busy. "Hey, I'm getting ready to head out. You got everything covered yeah?" I was confident the new girl knew what she was doing but I wanted her to feel confident in herself. She gave me a bright smile and thumbs up but I could tell there was still some doubt there.

On days like these, I walk and sit at the bus stop before going home. It sounds crazy because I don't ever actually get on, it just brings me a sense of comfort that I can't explain. The bus is right on time, as always. The driver is used to me now, giving me a knowing nod of his head before closing the big glass doors and pulling off. The next bus should be coming in 15 minutes and I had no problem waiting.

As clear as the sky was 5 minutes ago, I didn’t expect for rain to be pouring down right now. But I should be used to things not going the way I imagined. The next bus pulled up and I almost ran up to the window. Right before my very eyes was the one and only princess herself. I couldn’t believe it, I waited a whole year to see her again and here she was casually riding the bus I watched drive by almost everyday.

My heartbeat thumped in my ears, telling me to be brave and take the chance. She hasn’t even looked to her side yet, headphones over her ears obviously distracting her from the real world. It was time to make up for what I didn’t do one year ago. Courageously, I stood from where I sat and rushed onto the bus, just to stand at the front with my chest heaving as if I ran a marathon, my clothes halfway drenched.

She looked up, her eyes squinting before that gorgeous smile spread across her face. That has to be a good sign right? She quickly removed the headphones from her ears and stood up. I hurriedly walked over to her as she almost fell against the seats in front of her from how quickly she tried to move in between them. Thankfully, I caught her arm and helped her stand upright.

Just as I thought, a simple touch still sent electric through the tips of my fingers. She’s even more beautiful than I remembered. Like a flashback, I was standing there staring at her unable to say anything, so she spoke up for me instead.

“Kyungsoo…is that you?”

#exo kyungsoo #exo smut #exo #exo do #exo do kyungsoo #kyungsoo smut #kyungsoo x reader

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starsandink13 · 4 months

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The White Crow Game Chapter 1

It was another regular and awful day in your life. Your feet ached to the point where you could barely feel them from another grueling 11-hour shift at a 24/7 diner. It was located in a sketchy part of town that was infamous for its high crime rates. During your shift, you had to put up with loud drunkards as they slurred their orders, leers from the regulars as they try to 'subtly' implied for 'other services' when you were off the clock, and constantly on edge for a fight to break out at any moment.

You groaned as you opened the door to your dingy apartment. It was far from what anyone would consider 'home sweet home', with only cheap furniture that broke down even under the slightest of weights, the permanent and faint smell of mildew and mothballs in the air, and a few flimsy posters to cover up the cracks that spiderwebbed up the walls. No matter how much you tried to clean it up, the place would almost immediately revert to a filthy hellhole followed by a rat or mold infestation a few days later. You winced as you heard your neighbors, a couple that was made up two junkies, above you screamed over who would get the last of their heroin.

You shook your head as you took off your leather jacket and ran a hand through your straggled hair. You glanced at the microwave's clock that read 12:45 AM in a bright sickly green and flipped the light switch next to you. The light bulb flickered for a moment before it illuminated the living room in a harsh, bland cool white: making the space look all the more depressing and lifeless. Sitting on your scratched table, was a large pile of half-finished schoolwork that seemed to sneer at you, reminding you that they were due within only a few days.

Suppressing the groan in your throat, you dropped your bag and rushed to finish your assignments. The textbooks' words swam in your tired eyes and through your exhaustion, you could barely focus on the paper in front of you. Your hand shook as you wrote notes, making your handwriting illegible to even yourself. Throughout the long early morning hours, you fought against your exhaustion as you tried to finish the last of your workload, knowing that at best you would get a barely passing grade when you turned them in to your professors.

As you finished your final assignment, you noticed a black journal with gold stars on the cover sitting in the corner of the table. It was your writing journal, one that you haven't touched in well over a month and left all alone to be forgotten. The ideas, plotting, and excerpts of stories that will never be told.

With a cry, you threw your head in your hands and groaned. Tears started to roll down your face as you violently trembled.

It was like this almost everyday for the last several months. You sacrificed your hobbies social life just to work long hours at your dead-end job with no other source of income. You had to up with seedy customers, horrible co-workers, your witch of a boss, and the occasional fight. All while trying to keep a neutral face only to barely make enough money to afford this hellhole that was also populated with the same kinds of people you put up at work and constantly staring down dropping out of college in the eye. But worst of all, you had to put aside your dreams of becoming published just to scarcely keep your head above. Month after month, more of your mental fortitude was starting to wear down and you wondered if all of your effort was worth it if all you could do was barely get by in every aspect of your life.

"I don't want to put up with this anymore!" You choked out. "I'll give up anything just so my life to be a little bit better!"

You slumped down into the table, barely registering the impact. Your eyes blurred from tears and exhaustion, turning the world around you in a swirling fog of colors and shapes. You succumbed to your fatigue and closed your eyes as you slowly drifted away into a dreamless sleep.

---

A year later....

Your fortune has completely reversed. Instead of being barely scraping by no matter how hard you've struggled, you were now enjoying the complete opposite. Now you were living in a decent apartment in a nice part of town that was within walking distance of college, your grades only consisted of strong As and Bs, and you had landed the paid internship of your dreams at a major publishing house as you learned the ins-and-outs of the trade. It was as if you were living in a fairytale.

At first, you didn't think too much of it. After all, anything was better than barely getting by and living in a mold and rat infested apartment that you could barely afford and struggling to keep up with class while working long hours for less than minimum wage. But as the initial shock and joy wore off, you were starting to get the inkling that something wasn't quite right about this sudden change. You don't remember doing anything to improve your living conditions. You didn't fill out any applications to the internship, you didn't find more time to dedicate for studying, nor made a payment towards the new apartment.

It was just that one day you got a phone call with an editor at the publishing house, asking if you would like an internship with them and you accepted. The next day, you turned in your two-week notice to your former boss and quickly scrounged up enough money to move out into a better apartment despite working shorter hours now.

Oh well, life has its random chances like that. You shrugged it off, yet that feeling of unease still remained in the back of your mind.

Yellow sunlight streamed through the gaps in your blinds and into your eyes. With a groan, you turned on your side and felt paper underneath your fingertips. You jolted upwards to a strange note on your nightstand that read: Your debt is due by the end of today.

You ripped the note off of the nightstand, flipping it both sides to see if there was anything else on it. Be it a signature or anything else, but after reading it all over again on both sides, you found nothing else.

You looked at the calendar hanging on your wall to see that in bright red marker, you had circled today with the words: RENT DUE written in red ink as well.

"Guess I wrote this last night as a reminder," you shook your head as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes before starting your day.

---

The day flew by in a blur without anymore notes regarding debts nor any other unusual activity. As you were going editing the document your boss assigned you, Anya, a fellow intern gently knocked on your cubicle wall.

"Hey what's up?" You turned around.

"I'm gonna head out, can you close up the office when you leave?" She asked and undid the tight bun in her hair.

"Yeah. I'm gonna be here for like one or two more hours," you nodded.

"Great. Have a good one."

"You too."

When she was out of view, you leaned out of your chair to see the window on the far end of the hall. The sun was beginning to sink into the horizon: turning the sky into shades of purples, oranges, and pinks as elongated shadows were cast across the ground.

"It's starting to get late. I better finish this up soon," you muttered to yourself and brushed a strand of (H/C) behind your ear. As you typed in your notes regarding an awkward phrasing in the document, you heard a muffled bang! coming from the end of the hallway.

"Anya?" You called out, "I thought you clocked out already."

Silence.

It's probably the custodial staff then. You disregarded and sat back down, trying to get back to your train of thought. Just as you were about finish up another comment regarding your edit, another and louder bang! echoed outside. Annoyed, you got out of your seat and stepped out of your cubicle.

"Some of us are still here working, can you please try to keep it down?" You asked, trying keep the growing annoyance out of your voice.

Once again, silence.

"I hope they heard me this time," you grumbled and went back to editing.

Not a minute has passed when a third bang! startled you out of your seat. You clenched your eyes in annoyance and shot out of your seat.

"I swear I'm going to flip," you growled and stormed over a few more feet into the hallway.

"Listen! Some of us are trying to get some work done! Can you please keep it down?"

You were replied with an overwhelming deafening silence. For several seconds you stood there, before turning around. Before you could get five steps in, the florescent light above you went off, plunging the office space into darkness for a few seconds followed by a quiet laughter coming from somewhere in the distance.

W-what the hell?

You swallowed thickly and called out again: "Listen Anya, or whoever is out there, this little prank of yours isn't funny. I'm trying to get my work done, so stop distracting me and leave me alone!"

Once more you were met again with an uncomfortable silence, the only thing you could hear was the slow and steady pounding of your heart. You shook your head and went back to your desk. As you finished the last of your edits the sound of someone whispering came from the end of the hallway.

Sucking in a deep breath, you saved your work, emailed it to your boss, and logged off. You put on your leather jacket and grabbed your weathered leather messenger bag. You stormed over to the end of the hallway and looked out to see nothing. However, you rolled your eyes and took a step out into the main corridor.

"The gig's up already," your voice was heavy with annoyance. "Your stupid prank to scare me isn't working. Now leave me alone."

The whispering laughter became louder and distorted. High-pitched and mechanical yet childish as well. The lights above you flickered violently and you yelped as they went out, leaving you in an abyss of black.

You stood still in shock at what had happened. Your pounding heart drummed in your ears as you looked at the black outlines of cubicles and desks that surrounded you, looking for who or what was the source of this. You stiffened as you heard the distant sound of footsteps heading towards your direction.

Panic took over and you ran towards the exit. In the darkness, the hallways seemed longer and twisted violently. Sweat rolled down your face as the footsteps came closer.

Just gotta find an exit! Come on! Where is it!?

You screamed as something crashed in front of you-- blocking your path. Nearly tripping over yourself, you took a sharp right. The hallways stretched on for far longer than you remembered. Each second felt like an eternity as you ran faster through the dark and narrow corridors. Your lungs felt like you had swallowed pins and your knees threatened to give out from exhaustion.

God no! Come on! Where's that exit!?

The footsteps drew near in all directions alongside that horrible, chittering laughter. You spun around wildly like a marionette. In a split second, you rushed down the hall and into the nearest room. You slammed the door shut. Even in the darkness, you knew that you were in the bathroom due to the glinting coming from the mirror on the left. As quietly as possible, you went over to the last stall and locked it. You huddled yourself in the corner and held your breath.

The footsteps came towards the bathroom. You heard the door groan open as your stalker walked inside, their shoes clacking against the tiles like bones. You dared not to breathe as they came closer and opened each stall slowly. You felt tears starting to form in your eyes, realizing that had sealed your doom.

No, no, no! Please no!

As they opened the last stall before yours, they turned around and left the bathroom. You stood still for several minutes in shock.

D-did they not see this stall? Is this an ambush?

You slowly got out of your position and quietly approached the stall's door. You stood still for several seconds, waiting and listening for any more footsteps. You unlocked the door and quietly walked towards the bathroom door. As your hand reached for the handle, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

The world around you started to twist and fracture. The dark bathroom turned into a blur of blacks as the laughter surrounded you. You collapsed onto the ground as your vision started to slowly fade.

The last thing you heard before you blacked out was:

"It's time to repay your debt."

#my writing #horror #yandere #x reader #fem reader #reader insert #male yandere #faerie #dark fantasy #fairy #the white crow game #male yandere x reader #male yandere x female reader

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tboom10 · 10 months

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warning. eyestrain. if you're on max brightness and its 3 am proceed with causion. same if you hate a random dude on tumblr ramble for way to long. this includes more text then i care to admit.

icons of some hollow knight silksong characters except i really, and i mean really went overboard with special effects and other random stuff that mildly fits their character (and even that is somewhat questionable) to add as much eyestrain as i physically can and looks not bad. also i wanted to make more icons, but i lost interest and i really just wanna post something after no new art for like 2-3 weeks. also i used those custom pattens brushes to much and it shows.

this whole thing was me just wanting to draw trobbio once more and i thought 'why not an icon even though you've replaced your pfp not even a month', so i did. im not even gonna use it as a pfp, im just leaving it here and then i did the same for seth. and i spiraled from there.

trobbio is the only one without those outlines and it rally bothers me, but due to how i layered i cant fix it. it is what it is. also it makes it more flashy, and if someone here has a flashy icon its him.

seth's one is the least eyestrain one. but i like the darker tones, so im keeping it this way. honestly, might make it my pfp for a while. its probably my favorite one. yep, i peaked at the second one.

i was looking at references for sherma and saw someone drew him with those pink flowers and it was to cute not to steal. i forgot who made it, but just so you know: the flowers weren't my original idea.

this is my first lace icon. i dont really like it, so i made 2 for her. the only reason im posting it is cuz i've watd to much time on it.

and her's the second one. this one kinda mirrors hornet's icon. why? well good question dear viewer (or whatever you call someone who actually reads this (which if you do, thank you, i dont type these for nothing)). its because i can. also i still dont love how the second one came out. i guess not everyone can draw every character. partly due to her needle? sword? thing she fight with still has lines about as straight as i am, and likely she is as well. this is the one with the clearest use of a shape brush.

i hope hornets needle doesn't look thrown in, cuz thats exactly what i did. it was to kinda mirror lace's battle weapon and its kinda silvery and lace's is gold, and ok, you get it now. honestly, hornets one is one of my more favorites, even though the star brush is to obvious.

shakra's icon is ok. honestly, probably the least remarkable one. i dont really have anything interesting to add. ok 1 thing mildly interesting. i think this one took th longest to make the character for. thats about it really. and like lace, i can barely draw her. also why and how did i get worse at using star brushes? they weren't as obvious on the first few and on the last 3 it was clear as day. it is what it is i suppose.

also, before anyone asks, if you really, and i mean really somehow wanna use them, go ahead, credit is appriciated, though not needed. just dont say you made them alright. or do. idk why you wanna claim these are yours though, but i lack the ability to care, nor come after you irl. but please dont do it, its kind of an asshole move imo. if you still do, i guess i cant stop you, though if you steal art im just gonna assume you're kind of a prick to be around. also i still have enough material to make a part 2 (like carmlita and forg daughter). but im busy making other stuff rn.

#eyestrain #hollow knight #hollow knight silksong #silksong #silksong hornet #hornet hk #hk hornet #lace #trobbio #shakra #sherma #seth #seth silksong #sherma silksong #shakra silksong #hk trobbio #idk how tags work anymore

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thecrazyworldbuilder · 2 years

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Brainstorming: Materials

Astrum, the starly metal found in fallen stars. It is coming mixed with meteorite iron, so it must be purified through difficult procedures. Pure astrum by custom is enchanted so anyone who touches it doesn't need to breathe for as long as tactile contact continues, and as well, astrum is known to be a legendary material for swords, for "every strike is powered by the kinetic force of a fallen star". It is not indestructible, so even through you can chop trees with it, the blade will shatter if it hits something that is too hard to chew through.

Cloud ice, a special kind of snow that is holding form, doesn't melt for a long time and regenerates through absorbing humidity. Cloud ice is used as a decorative material, and as a working air-cooling conditioner. Manufactured through magic and runes.

Acom crystal, a yellow crystal that protects from mind readers.

Algofite, a silvery stone potent for rune magic. Looks like black marble with cracks of silver webbing.

Antiaurum, or negative gold, is an alchemical material that looks just like normal gold but, once it touches the actual gold, starts a dissolving reaction in which both materials turn into nothing but copper grains and heavy, harmful smoke. Known as a Midas' Demise, it is a dangerous tool that turned entire kingdoms bankrupt from one coin being put in the treasury.

Powdered Raven Hoof, alchemical material made from a rare breed of pegasi or gryphons, a mix between equine and corvine. Is used as a stabilizer of wild magic, and in a Wild Magic Tamer potion that allows mages to control chaos in powerful ways for about 17 minutes.

Balcatite, a black mineral of dense, solidified bad luck.

Cold glass, a special kind of glass created through transmutation rather than smelting sand. Said to be as transparent as air, and giving no reflections.

Meta rock, the pure element of stone - is chemically inert to everything but other pure elements. Used by gnomes as a perfect castle wall building material.

Libidum berries, found in the second circle of hell and having strong aphrodisiac and potency heightening properties. Is invasive, and sometimes gets to the mortal planes as its seeds get carried there on the clothes, hair or skin of demons. Have resemblance of small, red pumpkins with fourfold symmetry.

Heltrock, unique volcanic rocks that are indestructible from all points except one. If hit there, in the focus, the whole rock will violently explode, throwing obsidian-sharp shards everywhere.

Stormbow, a liquid material that glimmers in all colors of the rainbow and gives tempest strength and lightning aura to anyone who consumes it. Found in the rainwater from an eye of the storm, purified and distilled.

Jursa, a drug that replicated itself through contact with unfiltered goat milk. Has relaxing effects and causes fails in visual recognition of objects and people. The addicted can't tell the difference between a spoon and a fork even though they know it, same goes with remotely similar people and objects. Might develop face blindness.

Acanthite - mineral that freezes water on instant, turning it into hard, cold calcite spikes. Used in dungeon traps.

Mageweed, a plant that grows around mage towers, giving non-magic users the effect of tobacco, but seven times stronger. Sometimes used by evil mages to lure people into traps, afterwards using them as experiment subjects. Side effects include curly facial hair and blue spots of skin discoloration.

Bugshroom, grows above buried rusting metals. Upon consumption, gives short-lasting magnetic sense, but upon prolonged repetitive consumption can give the user allergy to glass.

Bankmetal, an alchemical metal made by melting an entire treasury vault door and one golden coin while reading a specific incantation. Bankmetal drives wealth towards itself, and scares off fairies if rubbed with a hand.

Retvam, a material created through fusing bone, iron, marble, glass and oak wood. Looks like cheese, but with texture of tree bark, hard and indestructible by means of common materials and forces, and has an ability to "activate" and radiate life energy. Used in warforged, sometimes as a cloaking device of sorts.

#Fantasy world #worldbuilding #worldbuilding brainstorm #brainstorming #brainstorm #worldbuilding ideas #fictional materials #fictional material

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lizseyi · 9 months

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5 Christmas-Ready Selections From Our Scented Candles And Diffusers Range - Zawzor Ltd

When it comes to great festive gifts for men and women alike, you really can’t do better than scented candles and diffusers, which help to enhance almost anyone’s home experience.

So, if you’re reading this as someone who is shopping for gifts for Christmas 2023, you might well be pleased to know about some of the excellent selections we have available through our online shopping channel right now.

Here are just a few examples of those items, which include individual candles, as well as full-on gift sets.

Deluxe Christmas Gift Set Lemongrass and Lime

The Peppermint Grove brand is one that many past Zawzor shoppers will be highly familiar with, and probably greatly appreciative of.

This deluxe set is typical of some of the brand’s gift-oriented offerings; it comes in a gorgeous gold Christmas box and contains a 50ml tube of hand and body wash, a 50ml tube of hand and body cream, a 100ml mini fragrance diffuser, and a 60mg mini soy candle.

Jasmine Scented Candle

For a candle that is not only gorgeously presented – in a hammered gold metal container that can be easily used for other purposes once the wax has been used up – but that is also evocative of the mysteries of the East, you really can’t better this jasmine-centred number.

Measuring 8cm x 12cm and incorporating a lid and a tassel, the container offers up some 350ml of candle. If burned correctly, it should give your recipient around 20 hours of burn time.

Christmas Mini Scented Candle and Diffuser Gift Set

Again, we’re talking about Christmas gift sets, although the format is a bit different for this offering from the Moss St. brand; your recipient will get a beautiful green box with stars, containing an 80g scented candle along with a 100 ml mini room diffuser.

This sandalwood and sea salt set will certainly infuse the home of whoever is lucky enough to be given it, with some utterly delightful smells. This is made easier to achieve by the fact that the diffuser reeds are also included in the box.

Scented Candle Blush Peonies

Even the gorgeous packaging of this 100g candle from Mews Collective is something of a head-turner. Much the same can be said about the ceramic pot that can be given an extended life in the recipient’s home for other purposes after they have used up the candle.

But of course, the “star of the show” is still the candle itself, which is made from natural soy wax and lead-free cotton wicks to help achieve the utmost environmental friendliness. It can also offer as much as 25 hours of burning time, during which, the top note of bergamot will be released first, and then peony rose and cyclamen notes, and the base notes of cedar, clove, and musk.

Scented Candle Black Orchid and Ginger

Hand-poured in a custom-designed glass container, this candle from Peppermint Grove produces lovely top notes of ginger and cardamon from the moment it starts burning. Those are complemented by the middle notes of orchid, jasmine, and rose, while the base notes are patchouli, sandalwood, and black amber.

All in all, it is another offering that lives up to the Peppermint Grove brand’s association with luxury and sophistication, with the burning time of up to 60 hours also likely to be very much appreciated by your eventual recipient.

There you have it – just a sampling of our latest available scented candles and diffusers that make highly attractive gifts for men and women alike this festive season. And with delivery being free to UK customers, it is a case when you are browsing our online shopping channel of the price you see, being the price that you pay. Merry Christmas from all of us here at Zawzor!

#gifts for men

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akingdomofswordsandstories · 4 years

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Unrequited

azriel (acotar) x reader

Summary: takes place during acofas, you and Azriel are mates but he doesn’t know it yet, angst, fluff, and everything in between

*Also this is my first imagine ever so I'm sorry if it sucks lol! There will be a part 2 to this, but I am still working on it!!

word count: 3927

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The winter solstice was in a few days and you weren’t sure what to get some of the inner circle. You walked briskly down the streets of the Rainbow, chilled to the bone due to the wind. You had made the dumb mistake of rushing out of the townhouse - to avoid any questions of where you were going - without taking your scarf. Your current outfit, which was a chunky knit blue sweater with leggings and boots, wasn’t enough to keep the chill away. But the cold wasn’t the most important thing on your mind. You had already bought presents for Rhys, Feyre, Amren, and Elain, but that left Cassian, Mor, and Azriel. Mor and Cass would be pretty easy to buy for, but you put it off knowing they would look through your room trying to find their solstice gift. But Azriel, that would be much harder.

Every waking hour, the shadowsinger haunted your thoughts. Something you had come to conclude was unrequited.

You had realized the mating bond between you two before he did.

It had clicked a few months ago while on a diplomatic mission. The aftermath of Hybern had left things chaotic, and if you were being honest, it still was. Rhys decided to send Cassian, Mor, Azriel, and you to travel to some of the other courts to bring back reports on the recovery after the war. However, traveling did have some dangers. While you were on your way back to Velaris from the Winter Court, your group was ambushed by a group of Hybern soldiers who had been hiding out in the mountains. Had it not been for Azriel’s wings shielding you from the initial arrows, you would’ve surely been dead, and that’s when it clicked for you. But like an idiot, you didn’t say anything.

You had thought if the bond had clicked for you, it would've clicked for Azriel too. You realized your mistake when Azriel hadn’t acknowledged any change between you two. You hoped that he would figure it out in the coming weeks, but he didn’t. You knew the same sort of situation happened with feyre and rhys so you still held out some hope. But as the months went by, and you realized the bond still hadn’t clicked for Azriel and it felt too late to tell him.

At least that was the excuse you made up. Truly, you were also afraid of the rejection that could have followed. You weren’t a fool, you knew him and Elain had some sort of connection, and that shattered your dreams even more. The possibility that he wouldn’t accept the mating bond to be with the fair skinned, doe eyed fae. Everytime Azriel was in the same room as Elain, she was the only thing he would pay attention to. During gatherings, you would plaster on a smile and act as if you were happy, but Cassian and Mor, your best friends, could sense your discomfort. They tried to ask you about it, but seeing as you would shut down anything they said, they decided not to pry too much. Amren ended up figuring out the source of your discomfort had to do with Azriel, but kept your secret until you would be ready to share it.

You came to the conclusion that distancing yourself from him would be the best option, so that's what you did.

You walked down the street till you got to one of the finest seamstresses is Velaris. Since you were an artist like Feyre, you decided to draw out a dress and have it made for Mor. The color was blood red, her signature. It was a silk slip dress that would come down to her mid-lower calf and it would be embroidered with a brilliant gold thread. You drew out a pattern of the sun, stars, and moon, which you hoped she would like. To go along with Mor’s dress, you got a jeweler to make a custom necklace and bracelet set to go with it. You designed more dainty jewelry that had gold stars with diamonds, since she was a dreamer.

You decided to design Cassian’s gift as well, creating a beautiful silver and black dagger with a moonstone on the hilt. It was a beautiful dagger, but you also made sure it was usable, because you would hate for it to go to waste. To add onto the combat theme, you also decided to buy him new fighting leathers with touches of red embroidery to match his siphons. Lastly, you bought Cassian a bottle of fae wine, which definitely wouldn't last long.

The last thing you got for all three of you was a friendship necklace. Although that sounds corny, the two of them had become such a positive force in your life and you couldn’t imagine life without them. Keeping with the celestial theme for the friendship necklaces, you bought a sun, a moon, and a star. The sun for Cassian, the moon for Mor, and the star for you. Although they are opposites in some ways, all three need each other, just like the three of you needed each other.

Now that you had gotten Mor’s and Cassian’s solstice gifts figured out, it was onto Azriel’s gift. You honestly had no clue what to get him. Due to distancing yourself, you weren’t sure if there was something that he wanted. You were positively stumped. Lucky for you though, you ended up spotting Mor in another shop a few stores down from where you were, most likely getting the rest of her solstice gifts. You decided to sneak up on her as a friendly prank. Grabbing her shoulders, you yelled in her ear, making her jump.

“Oh mother above, it’s just you, y/n! You scared the life out of me” Mor said.

“Doing some last minute shopping?” you asked. “I could ask you the same thing”. Giving her a playful smack on the arm, the corners of your mouth curled upward, even the simplest remark from her could make you smile.

The two of you were currently standing in front of a jewelry shop, looking at the collections of necklaces and earrings through the window. “Wow” you breathed out “These are all so beautiful”

“Indeed they are, although they’re quite pricey”

“How pricey is pricey?”

She whispered the amount in your ear and you stopped breathing for a second, “Holy Mother wow, that is quite the price tag. At least we can admire it from a far”, you laughed out. Even though you got a very generous salary from Rhys, you still felt guilty spending so much money on materialistic things.

After a moment you said, “Actually, since you’re here, I do need help finding a solstice gift for Azriel”, softening your voice at the end, “Any ideas?” you asked, drawing out the syllables.

“Well, I always get Azriel some cool towels, clothing, or a dagger!” Mor said. A small scoff came out of my mouth as I shook my head and raised my eyebrows. “Fine!” she exclaimed, “I may have overheard him needing a new leather sheath for Truth Teller.” grumbling towards the end. “Oh that sounds great, thank you for the help! Now let’s go off to the closest leather goods store and find a sheath!”.

“y/n! I still have shopping to do” a scowl appearing on her face. “Fine, I guess I’ll just call Cassian, cause his judgement might be better than yours, when it comes to knife related things of course” you said, baiting her.

“Ugh, I hate you y/n”

“I hate you too Mor”

“Fine, let's get going before I change my mind” she grumbled. Then we took off down the streets of the Rainbow to find a sheath.

The task was easier said than done, for you at least. Being indecisive and a major over thinker, you had looked through close to 100 sheaths, but none of them seemed good enough to hold the blade that Azriel never let anyone else touch. Except Elain.

While you were lost in your thoughts, you laid your y/c eyes on the perfect sheath. It had a bright cobalt blue stitching to match Az’s siphons. Along the tip and lining the top of the leather was a thin coat of silver plating with little sapphires embedded in the metal. You quickly snatched it up and paid a hefty price for it, but it was perfect.

“Thank god you finally picked one, it felt like we were in that store for centuries”. Mor sighed, probably a sigh of relief for getting out of the store, “But y/n, it’s perfect, I know Azriel will love it”

“Do you really think so? I just want it to be the perfect gift and I’m scared he won’t like it because what if it’s too simplistic and what if-”

“Hey! It's perfect! Don’t stress too much y/n. And for the record, I think that you’re an amazing gift giver - the amount of thought you put into gifts make it all the better.”

You could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and mumbled a small thank you.

“Anyway while we’re here do you need to get anything to go with your solstice outfit?”

“Oh Actually, I was so stressed about getting everyone’s solstice gift that I forgot to buy my dress” your voice falling off at the end. You felt yourself being yanked to a harsh stop and the saw Mor’s face staring at yours, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

“Are you crazy?? Solstice is in 3 days and you still don’t have anything??? Oh honey, our shopping isn’t done yet.” And with that statement you found yourself being pulled into the nearest dress shop. After trying on nearly 20 dresses you finally found the perfect one, which Mor approved. It was a light blue silk dress that was more fitted at the top but flared down at your waist. It had a cowl neckline, a slit going up the side to the mid upper thigh, and accentuates your curves beautifully and has a slight shimmer to it. You looked ethereal in it

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

After your exhausting day of shopping, you couldn’t wait to get out of the cold. You swiftly walked back to the townhouse. Once inside you made your way to your room to set down the gifts, change your clothes, and grab your book. Then you quietly headed down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea and sat on the couch to read. The house was quiet since all of the others decided to go to Rita’s tonight. You decided to stay home for some much needed relaxation. You opened your book and started reading. After a few hours, you felt your eyes drooping and eventually, sleep consumed you.

The loud noise of the front door caused you to stir and your eyes fluttered open. You were too exhausted to look so you just laid your head back down and tried to go to sleep. You could hear Mor whispering something and then felt yourself being lifted off the couch and being held close to a chest with your blanket still draped on you.

“Cass?” you whispered hoarsely along with a string of incoherent words

You heard a slight laugh “Not Cass but It’s ok, go back to sleep”. Then you felt yourself being gently placed on your bed and the sleep hit you before you could mutter a thank you.

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

The sun was setting towards the sea as you sat in the sitting room of the town house. You were in your blue silk dress with a glass of wine in your hand. Rhys and Feyre were by the mantel, quietly talking while Mor and Amren were across the room. Near the window I saw Elain, and from the corner of my eye I could see Azriel making his way towards her. My face fell but I quickly plastered on a smile, not wanting to concern anyone. Especially since today was also Feyre’s birthday and we had planned a surprise for her. Feyre thought she could slip her birthday past us, but we hadn’t forgotten. After a few minutes, Cassian made his way from the kitchen with the enormous cake.

You floated towards Feyre and gave her arm a light squeeze. “Happy Birthday, make a wish before the candles melt!”

She blew out the candles and then we ate cake before opening up the presents.

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

Rhys snapped his fingers and piles of brightly wrapped bags and boxes filled up the sitting room. Amren was the first to open her presents. Naturally, everyone got her something jewelry related. Amren opened mine and you saw a wide smile set across her face, she picked up the diamond necklace and nodded a ‘thank you’ your way. You returned the gesture back, a small smile forming on your face.

Next, Cassian handed Mor her present from him and she pulled out a-. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He bought her red lingerie. Your face turned slightly red, but the Mor said “Don’t let him fool you: he couldn’t think of a damn thing to get me, so he gave up and asked me outright. I gave him precise orders. For once in his life, he obeyed them.”

Then, you heard one sharp knock at the door.

Nesta.

You saw Cassian tense up a bit. Nesta walked in, linking arms with Elain. She got a glass of wine before heading to sit in a chair in the back of the room. The silence was deafening. Finally Varian started talking and the present opening resumed.

From Amren, you received a new calligraphy set. It was so beautiful and you loved it. From Rhys, you got some books. It was perfect since you loved to read, and they were ones that you had been wanting to read for a long time. From Feyre, you received a painting as well as a new paint brush kit.

Cassian made his way to you and set a gift down in your lap. You opened the dark blue box that Cassian had placed in your lap. He had gotten you a sky blue hardbound journal with a gold embossed star on it. You desperately needed a new one, and this was perfect. You walked over and gave him a hug, whispered “Thank you, I love it.”.

Next you opened Mor’s present. You nearly choked when you saw what she got you and your whole face heated up. She got you a matching navy blue lingerie set like the one Cassian bought her.

“Yeah, I wasn’t too sure what to get you so I thought we could twin”. You looked around the room and saw the others holding in their laughs. You could’ve sworn you saw a tinge of red on Azriel’s ears. You just smiled and mouthed a silent “I’m going to kill you, but thank you” at her.

There wasn’t anything from Azriel. Your heart twinged. Had you not been important enough? It was just a present you reminded yourself, fixing your composure before handing Cassian his present.

He ripped it open like an animal, squealing when he saw it. A promising reaction given the amount of thought you put into it.

“Did you design these? They look amazing!”

“Yeah, I’m glad you like it. It took a long time to figure out what to get for your dumb ass”

“You mean my cute ass”, you smacked his arm and then got up to give Mor her present.

You closely watched her reaction as she opened her dress and jewelry, a large smile spreading across her face.

“You really buy the perfect presents y/n, I love it”.

“Oh Cass, Mor. One more thing.” You pulled out the small boxes with the friendship necklaces and bracelets handing it to them. “This was just a little something extra I thought of, I hope you like it”. You knew you would have started stuttering and crying if you had said the meaning to them, so you just handed them notes instead. They read over them, eyes glossing over, and pulled you into a hug.

“This is the only time I’ll wear jewelry” Cass stated, causing you to chuckle

Then Mor said, “I am never taking this off” causing you to laugh again.

Finally, Azriel opened up his presents. He had opened up all the others. All that was left was yours and Elain’s gift to him. He found his way to your present first, opening it.

“A new sheath for Truth Teller. I heard you needed a new one” you quietly said.

He held your gaze and smiled, “Thank you, it's great”. Suddenly feeling exposed, you quickly gave him a nod.

Then he went to open Elain’s gift. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.” she said.

Silence.

Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

Silence again.

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.

You hadn’t heard him laugh before, and mother above it was gorgeous. You had never heard a sound so deep and joyous, a sound which made your heart clench. A part of you wished you were the reason he was laughing. You forced on a smile and spent the rest of the night drinking away the slight pain in your chest.

You were exhausted by the end of the night, sitting on the couch with Cassian and Mor, Azriel and Rhys seated on the opposite side of you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement towards the door, and craned your head to see what was going on. It was Nesta making her way to the door. You felt the couch lift next to you.

Cassian. He had swiftly pushed past Feyre and went after Nesta. This wouldn’t end well.

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

Cassian had come back quiet and brooding, walking straight to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of liquor. You got up off the couch and followed him straight into the kitchen.

“Cass, let’s take a walk, yeah?”

“I just took a walk”

“It wasn’t a question”. You grabbed a white shawl and his hand and led him outside. “What happened?”

“What’s there to talk about? It was like all the other times. Why did I have to fall in love with someone who doesn't even love me back. Who looks at me like the Illyrian born bastard I am. Who hates the idea of being in the same room as me.”

You grabbed Cass’ hand, lightly squeezing it. “Don’t say that. Nesta, she,” your voice stopping for a second “She’s different. The way she handles pain and copes is different. Give her time. She just needs time. I know how much that may pain you, but you can’t rush healing”

You pulled him into a hug

“And for the record, I know the feeling more than you know” you quietly said “unrequited love”, head pointed at the ground.

Cassian tilted his head down to look at you, his face painted with confusion. You could tell he wanted to know more, but didn’t want to pry too much.

You hesitated before continuing, not sure if you wanted to reveal your closely guarded secret. “I-“ your voice faltering, “I found my mate”. The words seemed to have rushed out of your mouth and tears pricked your eyes as you said that. After months of hiding it, you had finally gotten it off your chest.

Cassian stood shocked, staring at you. “You found your mate? And you didn’t think to tell any of us? How long ago was this”

“I-, I found out who he was around the same time Rhys sent us on that diplomatic mission. And I didn’t tell anyone because he doesn’t even know yet.”

“That was almost 6 months ago, and you didn’t say anything?”.

The tears had started flowing at this point, “I thought he would figure it out. But by the time I realized he wasn’t going to figure it out, it was too late. He had already set his eyes on someone else. And I know I could never compete with Elain, even if I am his mate.” the last part slipped out without you realizing.

“Elain? What does she-“ his eyes widening “Does that mean Az is-“

You slowly nodded, tears welled up, threatening to spill out.

“Oh, mother…”, he pulled you into a tighter hug and that’s when the gates broke. You couldn’t hold back your tears as you sobbed into Cassian's chest, his hand stroking your back.

you must have been there for 15 minutes before you realized the other might start getting suspicious. Regaining your composure, you dried your tears and tried, to the best of your ability, to hide that you had been crying.

Looking back at Cassian, you gave him a slight smile before muttering, “Thank you. I’m sorry for dumping that on you, but please promise me you won’t tell anyone. Please.”

“Of course y/n, and don’t apologize, if it makes you feel better, it helped to take my mind off of Nesta and my own problems, which I desperately needed” he chuckled out.

With the smile still on your face, you linked arms with Cassian before saying, “Oh mother above it’s freezing, let’s get back inside before we turn into popsicles!”

He let out another laugh before the two of you made your way back into the house.

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

You walked into the house and your sliver of happiness was crushed as you saw Az and Elain sitting at the table smiling and laughing quietly to themselves. Elain had her sketchbook out, showing Az her plans for the garden.

Your distraught had been clear to anyone who saw your face, and you were too tired to realize you weren’t able to hide it fast enough. Not being able to view the scene anymore, you quickly got up, muttered happy solstice, and grabbed your coat and purse before heading out the door to your apartment.

While walking home, you were consumed by your thoughts. You hated the pangs of jealousy that coursed through you. You often found yourself jealous of her soft spokenness and kindness. You also found yourself jealous of her effortless beauty. It was something that kept you up at night. She was so likeable and easily approachable, something you wished you were.

You were so drowned in your own thoughts that you hadn’t noticed a male following you till it was too late. One of his hands clamped on your mouth while the other grabbed your waist and pushed you into the nearest alleyway.

The male pulled out a knife and your tears started to fall. You were terrified about what he would do to you. This could be the last time you would have seen your family. You were struggling and kicking against him but it was no use. Your senses were groggy from the alcohol and drowsiness.

You had been so stupid to walk home alone at 2 in the morning. No matter how angry you were, you should’ve just stayed at the town house.

Before you could realize what was happening, you felt a sharp pain shoot through your side.

The sound of a clatter.

Receding footsteps.

A crimson stain blooming.

Your body crumpled to the ground and your vision started blacked out. This was it. Nobody could hear you and nobody could save you.

#azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel #cassian #imagine #sarah j maas #azriel acotar x reader

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aressss1 · 3 years

Text

Sweet Nothings

(God!Technoblade x Male!Reader)

Read Me on AO3!

~~~~~~

You were very content with your life in this tiny village. Business was at its peak, and you were well known amongst the people. You had your regulars that came in daily, and you even had found an apprentice to help you out around the shop. Niki, was a great apprentice, learning how to bake and tend to the bakery on her own. The eagerness in her actions made you confident that she would be just fine taking care of the place in your stead, when you needed a break once in a while.

One early morning, when the world was still dark, you walked the cobblestone streets to your bakery. The warm glow of the over hanging lanterns washed over your form. There was a cold nip to the air as you walked. Letting your eyes wander, your eyes spot the decorations overhead. Festival decorations, for a festival made in celebration of the era of peace among your lands, and for the blood god.

Today was Niki’s first day alone in the bakery. Your job today was to set up a booth and run it for the festival. You had the perfect spot to entice travelers from across the world to eat your delicious baked goods. Town square was the perfect place, but you… had scored the place closest to the entrance of the town square to set up your booth. The area that had gotten the most foot traffic in festivals. You were excited for what could come of this. Your bakery could very well thrive off this one day alone!

The bakery before you was already lit up. You smirked knowing that your apprentice had beaten you to the punch. You twisted the doorknob and walked in whistling a familiar tune, signifying to Niki that you weren’t some stranger just walking in.

“Morning boss!” Niki leaned out from behind the doorway of the kitchen as she said it. “You’re looking really handsome today!” Her eyes sparkled and you smirked. The garb you had chosen for the festival cost you a pretty penny, but it was worth it.

“Well, a man has gotta look his best for his business don’t you think?” You ran your fingers through your hair, before putting your chef’s hat on. “How many goods have you made so far this morning my dear?”

The beginning of the morning went by smoothly. You had set up your booth while Niki had made quadruple the amount of baked goods that you normally made on a regular day. Festivals were good for business and you didn’t want to keep the people waiting. Now… You wished the middle of the day went just as smooth.

More foot traffic meant more problems… Thieves taking from your stock, people touching everything they didn’t intend to buy, people who weren’t satisfied being rude, and so much more. You had your hands full with everything. By the end of the festival when lanterns were sent into the sky to celebrate the blood god keeping peace across the land, you were out of breath. Your booth had seen it’s last customer of the day, and your head was still reeling. But that didn’t stop you from lighting your own lantern. You let it go as you still stood next to your booth, unaware of the fact that eyes lingered over you, as you closed your eyes uttering your thanks to the very blood god who watched you with curious eyes.

His eyes spotted your lantern ascending into the sky, he didn’t make himself known to you, He scanned over you once more before he followed the lantern’s light, awaiting the moment that it would come down. When it did, he looked at your handiwork adorning the material. Drawings and script told a story of your gratitude, that, without the peace that he had given, you would be a broken man with no passion in life. This peace gave you enough to stand on so you could pave your way into a successful business.

A slight smile pulled at his lips, a mortal had piqued his interest, there was definitely more he wanted to know about you. He would rest now and make himself known to you later. He held onto your lantern, keeping it for himself.

Days passed, and you struggled with the volume of customers who had come in. So each day you adjusted your inventory, to keep up with your customers. There were times when you could breath in between bursts of people. You could cry at the success from the booth just days before.

On one of your breaks, you sat down on a stool to help ease the discomfort in your back. You had been on your feet the entire day and you needed this break. You reveled in the silence and peace, you closed your eyes, letting out a little sigh. When the door opened, and you heard the bell sound off, signifying a customer, you gave off a small, tired grunt.

“Welcome to my bakery, how may I help you-” When you opened your eyes all the air left your lungs, and you couldn’t say any more. In front of you, stood a very tall man, with long pink hair, a golden crown that reminded you more of a circlet gilded his head. His ears were pointed and downturned, making it obvious he wasn’t human. His eyes rivalled the gold that sat atop his head. Deep purple to black armor hugged his body and a royal red cloak spilled from around his shoulders.

His eyes studied your face, and you felt a blush redden your cheeks. He moved around your bakery in the most graceful way you had ever seen anyone move and you fought to regain your composure.

“Make yourself at home, take a look around and if you need anything you can just ask.” You bowed your head to offer your respect to him. When his eyes searched over you once more you cleared your throat. Was this guy a soldier? A commander? His aura was one that suggested he was a man of power. Even so, this guy didn’t know what to get… His eyes wandered around looking at all the pastries and other baked goods, it was obvious he was having trouble deciding on what to get.

“Would you like a sample?” You offered, you almost shrunk at the man’s gaze, but you didn’t let yourself falter you held out a cupcake for him to take, and when he took it, you felt your heartbeat in your ears. When he hesitantly took a bite, you visibly relaxed when he gave you a smile, crumbs falling from his lip.

“I’ll take some more of these.” His deep voice shook you to your very core. Strangely, as much as this guy was intimidating… He was alluring, and you packaged up more cupcakes for him, giving him an extra one, because he was a first-time customer. Or… At least you told yourself that.

“Thank you very much! Here is your order and should you come back you will be welcomed with open arms!” You told him your name as he held his hand out with his payment. When he dropped it into your hand your eyes widened and in the palm of your hand were three gold pieces. Your heart dropped and when you looked back up, he was gone. You charged mere copper for your goods, not gold??? You were dumbfounded.

Months had passed, and the mysterious stranger came in each and every day. Ordering and trying new things from you. He had become a constant in your life, and you found yourself growing closer to him. You found out his name was Techno, and he was a war hero. You could tell he was leaving bits and pieces from you, but you figured if he wanted you to know he would tell you.

One night you locked up your bakery, and you were just about to head home. Your steps echoing off the cobblestone path once more. You looked up to see Techno, knelt down in front of someone, holding out a loaf of bread out to a straggler down on his luck. You had sold Techno that bread earlier. You couldn’t help but feel the smile tug on your lips. Techno stood tall after the straggler thanked him profusely, his eyes finding yours. You felt your heartbeat faster, as he towered over you.

“You have brought beauty into this world and it’s a crime not to share it.” Techno cocked his head at you, his hand resting on your cheek. “I would like to see more of the beauty you create.” He drops his hand from your face, holding it out for you to take.

You sigh happily, intertwining your fingers with his, happy to follow him wherever he would lead you. He led you to a place where you could see every star, away from the village. Foliage surrounded you and it was a nice change of pace rather than the buildings around you.

Techno looked at you, as you marveled at the scenery before you. He basked in your presence; you were such a breath of fresh air opposed to every other mortal around. He watched you make your way to a nearby stream, kneeling letting the cool water flow through your fingers. Techno summoned forth your lantern. When you stood and faced him again, you were shocked at the lantern in his hands.

“How did you get that?” You felt heat rise up to your cheeks.

“It tells a beautiful story.” He ignored your question, “Of a man, who was cast out based on his preferences… Going on a hard-earned journey to make a bakery. Determined to be successful, while hiding who you truly are, is… Tragic.” Techno cupped your cheek, his eyes boring into yours. “I do not wish to take credit for your hard work because I slaughter those who wish to upset the peace.”

Your eyes widened; the blood god was real… And he was standing before you, gazing at you with a fond expression. This beautiful man before you stroked your cheek with his thumb, and you felt your tears coming forth. You were scared, scared to tell Niki of your preferences, in fear she would abandon you. If any of your patrons knew, your business would be ruined…

“This world is filled with cruelty.” His words caused shivers to go up your spine. “I… want to shield you from that cruelty.” He leaned closer and closer to you, his lips just barely grazing yours. “If you’ll have me.” He barely whispered, but you heard him loud and clear. You threw your arms around his shoulders, standing on your tip toes to push your lips against his. That was when your tears spilled forth.

The two of you, melted into each other, the moon above shone down on you. Before too long this towering blood god cradled you in his arms, your head resting on his chest plate. You thought you were content with your life before… What you had before couldn’t compare to what you had now. Technoblade the Blood God had fallen for a mortal, and no one could take you away from him.

#technoblade x reader #technoblade/reader #c!techno x reader #techno fanfic #c!techno #god!techno #male!reader #fluff #mcyt x reader

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artzychic27 · 3 years

Text

Pride Month is right around the Corner! Yay! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

Marinette, Kim, and Nino- The Trio of Transcendenceness... Ness 🏳️‍⚧️

Marinette, Kim, and Nino have been best friends since birth, and do pretty much everything together

If some rando were to look at them, they’d think it’s odd that Marinette likes to wear pink and gaze starry-eyed at dresses in store windows while Kim and Nino like to play with action figures and shop for clothes in the boys’ section

And people swore they saw them get teary-eyed whenever someone said their birth names

Tom and Sabine sort of just knew that Marinette was somewhere on the trans spectrum, and let their so- daughter buy whatever outfits she wanted and grow her hair out

Marinette: I wanna be a princess when I grow up!

Rando: Don’t you mean a prince?

Marinette: No! I’m the Princess of princes!

She officially came out when she was seven

Her parents were supportive. Confused, but supportive. They even made her a three layered cake with Trans flags toppers

She named herself after a princess she read about in a book

Kim and Nino did everything they could to help their sister

Nino gave her the makeup kit he never uses and a bunch of his hair accessories

Kim gave her some clothes he doesn’t like wearing

Whenever someone asks what happened to their friend, [CENSORED]. Kim and Nino say their friend went on a long trip and is never coming back

Kim was second to come out when he was nine

He loved how carefree Marinette looked after she had what he and Nino call her “Gender Awakening”

He was confused about some things though, and asked her to explain how she came to the conclusion that she wasn’t a guy

Marinette: Well, I never liked how people kept calling me by my old name, and whenever I had to wear boy’s clothes, my skin crawled a bit.

Kim: ... I’m trans, I wear pants, deal with it!

His parents were very supportive and his mom even threw a one-woman pride parade in the backyard

Kim: Is mom okay?

Kim’s dad: She’s just happy for you. Now let’s go get you a haircut, young man before you look like a hippie.

In Vietnamese, Kim means gold/metal (A little reference to the gold medals he’s one in sports)

Marinette made him a custom binder that’s red with a gold star on the front

Nino cut his hair and is even learning how to contour so he can do Kim’s makeup to make him look more masculine

Finally, Nino came out when he was ten. He just figured it out on his own like Marinette

Nino: Your daughter’s dead, dudes. I’m taking over her room.

Chris: *Stares in awe* That is... awesome!

His parents supported him wholeheartedly

He chose his name because it’s Spanish for boy

Marinette made him a binder and she and Kim took Nino clothes shopping

Since they’re all best friends, they wanna do everything together

When they were ten, the three of them started taking their hormones

On dysphoria days, they’ll get under a big blanket and snuggle up while watching Disney movies until they fall asleep. Nino and Marinette would sandwich Kim in the middle while he wrapped his arms around them

Sometimes they wear matching hoodies that are a few sizes too big and just hide everything

On their first day of collége, all three of them were dead named in one of their classes since the school didn’t update their names

Word spread. Long story short, Kim and Nino beat up a boy who deadnamed Marinette and asked for “proof”

Their classmates were very supportive and always corrected teachers who accidentally say their dead names during role call

Many guys who had crushes on Marinette offered to beat up or threaten anyone harassing her

Nathaniel (Before meeting Marc) almost framed one of her bullies for murder

The swim team wore gender neutral swimwear so Kim wouldn’t feel like the odd one out until he got his surgery

Guys will always put emphasis on ‘Dude’ whenever talking to Nino

Students offered to stand guard whenever they used the bathroom in case anyone tried anything else

When Alya and Adrien came along, they were all so nervous. Sure, most of the school was pretty tolerant, but what if someone outs them and the new students turn out to be bullies in their own class?!

Once again, they were outed by some asshole Damocles won’t expel for some shit reason

Alya beat the asshole to a pulp (Which caused Nino’s crush on her to start) while Adrien treated his three new friends to ice cream

When they started dating and Nino was feeling dysphoric, Alya will say things like: “My boyfriend is the manliest man ever.”

... Ah, fuck it! Bring out the Miraculous!🐞🐈‍⬛🐢

Marinette is Ladybug/Nino is Carapace/Kim is Mèo đen (They all know each other’s identities because they opened the boxes together in Marinette’s room)

Thanks to a little magic, they have the bodies they’ve always dreamed of having

One Akuma they faced was some transphobic dick who they did not go easy on. Carapace and Mèo đen had to reluctantly keep Ladybug from murdering him in front of a bunch of people

Now, Lila? (I can’t go one second without Lila salt) She’s a new member of the assholes club but doesn’t know others know Marinette, Kim, and Nino are trans

She runs into class sobbing like a dumb [BLEEP] and whines about how Marinette assaulted her in the bathroom

The class was not amused and Lila never did become popular

Then the big day came. They were eighteen and they got their surgery together in the same hospital

Doctors and nurses gushed over how sweet it was three best friends were taking this huge step together

Kim and Nino’s first act was to burn their bras. Marinette even joined in even though she needed hers’

🏳️‍⚧️ Okay, onto the Pride headcanons! 🏳️‍⚧️

Some consider them Trans icons

It’s not every day a group of best friends come out as Transgender and get their surgery on the same day

They go to Pride every year, and thanks to Marinette, they’re always the best dressed

Their outfits mainly consist of sleeveless hoodies, crop tops, sandals, and bedazzled shorts and capes

Every time Marinette inhales, a terf gets punched

Every time Marinette exhales, a trans kid gets a cupcake

Mari makes pride capes, bedazzles them, and passes them out at parades

Kim is very popular with the drag Queens.

He is a lip sync god

Children love him and always ask for piggyback rides

He’s notorious for making flower crowns for the kids

Nino takes on the role of the mom friend when they got to pride

He once put Mari and Kim on those baby leashes so they wouldn’t wander off

He also supplies juice boxes and snacks

After their surgery, Nino and Kim pass out their old binders.

Kim’s would definitely look like sports jerseys

Nino’s binders are neon and one even glows in the dark

He wears hoodies no matter how hot it is

Marinette: Nino, take that off!

Nino: *Sweating more than the average person* No!

Marinette once beat up a terf who was harassing Kim and Nino for being “traitors to their sex”

The terf left with bruises and a small crush

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imaginationjunkie · 3 years

Text

Dancing with our hands tied

Jason Todd x Reader

It’s kinda soft

Thought of these songs while writing, so give them a listen while reading!

Note: Jason’s 25 and the reader is 21

I was always a fan of the over the top charity galas Bruce Wayne threw. The elitists in their flashy riches, extravagant decorations and endless varieties of food, and a certain Wayne brother in a suit. It was all very amusing to witness.

I felt like a princess walking down the stairs with Tim every time, who refused to ever get an actual date. So I’d been stuck being his unofficial date for the 5 years that I’d known him. Not that I minded much; he was my best friend after all.

I chose a simple flowy dress tonight, blood red in color, silky like water. The subtle eyes that followed me through the evening didn’t go unnoticed.

But my eyes followed just one sight. A sight that erupted the unwanted greenness of jealousy as I sulked in a corner, celebrating turning 21 recently with a champagne flute in hand.

I felt him before I saw him. Warmth soothed my skin at his presence, despite the fact that I was unfairly mad at him. It wasn’t like he was my boyfriend.

Easier to say than do, and thus all the salt in the world seemed to be in my tone as I spoke first.

“Where’s your date?”

Jason Todd’s eyes might’ve been cool blue, but the feel of them didn’t match the description. The side of my head felt like it would burst into golden flames under the intensity of his stare.

But they were the good kind of flames, the best kind of flames. It was almost miraculous, the way I managed to keep my calm.

“She bailed, something about her sick grandma,” was his soft response.

“Hmm.”

“What’s with the tone?” He leaned closer, hot breath teasing my cheek. Jason had gotten awfully bold since the first time we met, when he couldn’t even look into my eyes straight.

“Is it jealousy I sense?”

I tried to be subtle about my sharp inhale. Judging by the stutter of his lips as he suppressed a smirk, I failed.

But why hide anymore? I was never one to hold back anyway. “Yes, it is.”

It was my turn to take his breath away. I turned my head, challenging him with my stare. But I was too tangled in his game to play in charge. He had me, and he knew it. Right?

A smile filled with swirls of mischief and satisfaction designed his lips. Yes, he definitely knew it.

It caught me off guard, the unfiltered beauty of it. Of him. Watching Jason Todd smile, really smile, was not for the weak hearted.

“Then I think you’ll be happy to know that she wasn’t a date. Just a friend.”

Eyes the color of a swirling blue sea, a face handsome enough to cause heartache. Why’d it take me so long to realize that I could never resist him? Not even in a million years. Not even if Ryan Gosling came offering himself to me.

A little too far?

Maybe, but it’s true. What to do?

I was just about to walk away from him, refill the empty flute of champagne to bring back sparkle to my uneventful evening. A large hand wrapping around my wrist stopped me.

“Let’s dance,” he said with the softness of tulle, pulling my frame closer to his larger one. Close enough to smell his cologne. Like a creep in the street, I subtly took a slow sniff of it.

It’d never stop amusing me, how a man who seemed as rough and rugged around the edges as he did had so much softness in him.

And smelled so. damn. good.

“M’kay,” I agreed, following as he led the way to the ballroom. Or so I thought.

“I thought you wanted to dance?” I inquired, looking back at the flashing dance floor full of people we left behind.

“I do.” His eyes twinkled as he looked back at me, still walking to God knows where with my hand in his.

“We literally just crossed the dance floor, where else on earth do you plan on taking me dancing?”

“Who said anything about a dance floor?” Jason smirked, coming to a stop in the garden behind the manor.

Even though it was off limits to Bruce’s guests tonight, the garden looked particularly beautiful. Strings of fairy lights decorated the flawlessly kept greens and flowers, courtesy of Alfred. The pool lights were on, and a surreal soft blue glow lit up the water.

It matched Jason’s eyes.

But that wasn’t all. Long fingers tilted my chin up, and a gasp reverberated the air as my eyes met the mystical view. Stars glittered the midnight canvas endlessly, and in the center of it all sat the full moon like a queen.

She was regal tonight.

My mouth was slightly open in awe, and Jason’s fingers on my chin softly closed it as he chuckled.

“I’m guessing you like the view?”

“Like it? I might as well marry it!” I exclaimed, eyes wide with glee as I gripped his shoulders.

“Dick used to bring his, ahem, lady companions to charm them back when I was Robin. I’d always barge in and interrupt to interrogate about the last woman I saw with him,” he laughed while recalling the memory.

“Did it work?” I smiled back and stood closer to him, the fronts of our bodies slightly touching. My hands had come down to rest on his chest now, and while my eyes were up roaming the sky, my soul’s attention was solely on him.

He shuffled with something in his suit pocket. “Did what work?”

“Dick’s method of charming the ladies?”

“Judging by the walks of shame Alfred and I had to witness every morning after each Wayne gala, yes. It very much did.”

I felt Jason put something in my ear, and finally looked down from the stars to his eyes in confusion. It was an airpod, and I watched silently as he put the other one in his ear.

“I promise I’m not a creep or anything, but I stalked your Spotify playlists and found one titled ‘dancing under the stars’.” He confessed. In a very un-Jason like manner, he looked almost sheepish.

He didn’t look at me as he pressed play and pocketed his phone. Almost immediately ‘Dancing with our hands tied’ by Taylor Swift came on, and he took my hand in his.

Tingles shot up the pit of my stomach as his free arm wrapped around my waist, fingers resting on my hip. We swayed in beat to the music in our ears, eyes on eyes.

I, I loved you in secret First sight, yeah, we love without reason Oh, twenty-five years old Oh, how were you to know,

The lords, and anyone who knew me actually, knew how big of a swiftie I was. The fact that he had put in the effort to pick the absolute perfect song to dance to had to be the most romantic thing that ever happened to me.

I was completely mesmerized. Guys like this only existed in the encasement of my stash of romance novels; but time and time Jason Todd had proved that idea wrong. Every one of his gestures, one after the other, seemed to catch me off guard more than the previous one.

“Wanted to do this since I was 17,” I breathed the fresh air in, craning my neck to rest my chin on his shoulder. This right here was all I needed to relax. This was my very own customized form of peace.

“Yeah, Tim let it slip when he got drunk on your birthday and started blabbing about how you’re growing up in front of his eyes,” he laughed and pulled back to twirl me.

I crashed back into his chest softly, grinning at his revelation.

“It’s so hard to believe you guys are best friends, that Timmy’s actually capable of having normal human conversations other than his usual nerdy blabber,” Jason continued, pulling me even closer to him while dancing.

No objections were made from my side as I obliged (obviously), staring up at his eyes.

They were like an oceanic maze, too easy to get lost in. Too dangerous to get lost in.

“He’s a good friend. Awfully robot-like at times though, and he always smells of coffee.” I breathed with a chuckle as the air around us got intense.

The gold of the fairy lights hit his eyes, making them shine brighter than the stars above I let my hands grip the hairs on his neck, watching carefully as he took a sharp breath in response.

If there was something Jason and my relationship, whatever that it was, didn’t lack, it was moments like these. Moments where we had a conversation with our eyes, expressing how much we wanted to kiss each other, how much we wanted to stay frozen in the present and relish in the feel of our undeniable chemistry.

It had been going on for way too long, and even Tim was getting tired of us not taking the leap of faith.

Initially he was pretty against it, but when he saw exactly how much I felt for his brother, his blessings for us suddenly started pouring in.

“Uhuh,” Jason hummed. An electric sensation buzzed the air around us as the chorus hit, and all the space between our bodies vanished. Butterflies went haywire in the places of my body he touched. He was everywhere.

But we were dancing Dancing with our hands tied, hands tied Yeah, we were dancing Like it was the first time, first time

“Stop me if you don’t want it,” he harshly whispered, brows furrowed and eyes clouded with desire as he tucked a few loose strands of my hair behind my ear.

“I do,” I whispered in response, knowing exactly what he meant.

His breath hit my lips, forehead fell against mine in a moment of desire and the next thing I knew, he was kissing me.

It was needy and rushed and a thousand other adjectives, but it was my most perfect kiss. It would always be my most perfect kiss.

Jason’s muscular arms encircled my waist as he pressed me up against him, gripping my sides and lifting me to stand on his feet. My own arms wrapped around his neck, and a sneaky stutter of a moan escaped my lips, earning me a groan from him.

Passion burned us under the cool night air as we kissed and kissed and kissed, all thoughts of oxygen forgotten in our haze of need.

But even our passion couldn’t defy nature. We pulled back to breathe in as much air as we could, but instead of diving back in towards each other’s lips like I expected us to, Jason simply stared at me with eyes that now looked navy from being hooded.

It was a stare of a few seconds that seemed like hours as his thumbs brushed the side of my face. The fire of need from a while back was gone, but the desire wasn’t.

We both tried to calm ourselves, but an unstoppable part of me leaned up to press a kiss on his cheek. He blushed.

“Wanted to do that since you were 17,” he said cheekily, hands tracing my back as we now let ‘Wonderland’ by Taylor amuse our ears.

“Liar,” I grinned. “You couldn’t even look at me back then.”

“Yeah, because I’d do this if I looked at you for more than 5 seconds. I had no plans of going to jail for getting handsy with a minor,” he replied, leading us to the wooden benches Bruce had installed in the garden a few weeks earlier.

I lifted a teasing brow, masking my shock at the fact that he wanted to kiss me even back then.

“And how’re you so sure I would’ve let you get handsy with me? For all you know I could have kicked you in the balls myself.”

“Don’t act coy, you could never stop staring at me when you were over,” he smirked, sitting down on the bench and pulling me to his lap.

I hesitated for a second, my brain getting lost in the fact that after months of banters and unbelievable tension, interruptions and two sided pining, I was finally in this position. Where we were able to be open about our want for each other.

Sensing my hesitation, his smirk dropped. “This is okay right?”

I snapped back to reality, taking his nervous expression in. Yes, this was real. And I wouldn’t waste a second of the time God gave me with Jason. I smirked and ran my fingers through his dark locks, making him close his eyes.

“Of course it is, just thinking about how long it took for you to man up and kiss me,”

“Excuse me, you could’ve-”

I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. He responded almost immediately, putting his hand on my hip as I sat sideways on his lap. Unlike the first one, this kiss was sweet and slow. We were cherishing the night with it.

“About damn time, I thought all my teeth were gonna fall out due to old age before Todd here grew some balls,” the sudden voice of a certain sass filled Wayne interrupted us.

My magical night with Jason ended with him running after his kid brother Damian, teasing him about kicking his ass.

But that was okay, because I was happy. Jason was happy. The long wait for him, for us, was worth it.

Even though he gave off the impression that he couldn’t care less, I knew that the reason he hadn’t made a move was because he wanted Tim to be completely fine with us being a thing.

Alongside being friends with Tim, I became friends with his brothers and Alfred over the years. I knew of their nightlife, and everything that went on behind the polished doors of the Wayne Manor. I knew Jason well enough to know that his tough posterior and damn care attitude was just a facade.

Being with Jason wouldn’t be a walk in the park, and I knew that too. He was reckless and intense, impulsive and careless.

But he was also sweet and passionate, and his love would brand you like a tattoo with it’s depth. I was willing to give my 110% to make it work with him.

Because even fairy tales take sacrifice and effort to get a happy ending. And I’d do about anything to make sure I earned mine.

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mutimatuti · 11 months

Note

1-30 for the ask thing

You think you're so funny

well I'm about to be hilarious:

1: Where in the Faerûn is your Tav from?

Not from Faerûn or Toril at all. She's from Mhoried on Aebrynis rip creche Va'a'th

2: What is your character's alignment?

Chaotic good

3: Race and subclass?

Githyanki paladin (oath of ancients)

4: If your Tav was a companion, where would they be found?

Instead of making your own camp you find her camp and she offers you some soup.

5: Dark Urge or no?

6: What companion are you platonically close with?

Lae'zel Wyll and Karlach

7: Romantically close with?

Her own relationship with mortality

8: Who are they suspicious of?

From the main party? Gale

9: Is your Tav from Baldur's Gate? Why are they travelling there?

No. she was travelling Faerûn in search for a lich who she had a passive agressive war with for several centuries

10: Are they proficient in playing any instruments?

for some reason yes? She's not a bard, I guess it's the charisma. She plays a lute

11: Weapon of choice?

Halberd!

12: What is their orientation?

Bi!

13: What are their thoughts on killing? Is it a necessary evil or do they enjoy it?

Sometimes it's fun. She has to repress the old habits though now that she thinks it's bad most of the time. She considers death to be neutral.

14: What hobbies does your Tav have?

She used to play harp and do hand to hand duels. Now she plays a lute and knits. And sometimes makes weird crafts with the stuff she finds.

15: What NPC's do they like? Which one's do they dislike?

Voss is an old buddy of hers. Kind of. He saved her ass a bunch of times so she was glad when she realised he's on her side.

Big beef with Oscar though.

Also old beef with pretty much all of the Ch'r'ai

16: Do they have a favorite creature in the Faerûn?

Fell in love with cats as soon as she learned about them

17: Do they enjoy life as an adventurer?

Yes! At the beginning of her journey it was supposed to be a punishment but she grew to like it

18: What would your Tav be doing if they weren't kidnapped on the Nautiloid?

Having an existential crisis under a tree I guess

19: How do you think they'll meet they're end?

She died hilariously while the whole party was celebrating their victory she stabbed herself rip queen you absolute legend

20: Would they destroy the elder brain or control it?

Sacrificed literally everything to destroy it

21: What is your Tav's favorite spell?

Telekinesis! She used to use it a lot during her prime years, now she can only treat herself every once in a while with a telekinesis scroll

22: What languages is your character fluent in?

Common, Gith, Draconic and Celestial.

She used to be in K'azz'jak'n, Aboleth and Yuan-ti but she forgot most of those.

Trying to learn Thayan at this point in her story

23: What do they do after the absolute crisis?

Rotting in the dirt baby! Just like she wanted

24: Does your character believe in the afterlife?

Yeah and it grounds her belief that "death is good actually" even more

25: What arcana major best represents your Tav?

The Hermit and The World

26: What animal best represents your Tav?

Goanna

27: What was their life like before the events of BG3?"

(The briefest summary of the story I can make rn)

Knight to Commander entered her war criminal era, blew up her own creche rip creche Va'a'th

went through ego death, hung out on a desert for 200 years

betrayed and abandoned she fucked off into the woods to have fun

28: Is your character the de facto leader of the party? Or do they consider someone else to be the leader?

Yeah she naturally takes the role and she proves herself capable of keeping everyone together and alive so the party is pretty cool with it

She's everyone's cool aunt

29: Does your Tav want to utilize the tadpole powers or not?

She wants to pluck that thing out like a leech

30: What's your favorite thing about your Tav?

Started a war by pestering her cousin.

Someone once gave her flowers and she was so confused she ate them

Very short and throwable

By all accounts should be dead

#anonymous #ask #you get what you ask for idk what to tell you #Taame'sze #anyone who reads this gets a custom made gold star

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piratesfromspace · 3 years

Text

The Mechanic (Anakin/Reader)

Anakin Skywalker/Reader, Obi-Wan is also here

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Smut 18+, mechanical arm, Anakin is a little shit, dom/sub undertones, humiliation kink if you squint.

AFAB reader but gender-neutral pronouns MASTERLIST

“A… mechanic??”

“Yes, that’s what I am. A mechanic. The best in town. Isn’t it what you’re looking for?”

Obi-Wan scrunches his nose and turns to the poor clone trooper who had introduced you.

“Are you serious?” he asks in a whisper.

“Do you know how hard it is to find a biomechanics surgeon around here, General? That’s the best I could find.” the trooper seems really tired you notice.

Kenobi brings his hand on his chin, silently thinking for a few seconds.

“I guess they’ll do.”

---

And that’s how you’re recruited for a very special task. When you’re led to their temporary base just outside of town, you thought you were going to be asked to repair a secret-weapon, or some military speeder. Oh Maker were you wrong.

You’re pushed inside of a medical ship, and instead of a speeder, you find yourself face to face with another jedi. He’s sitting on a table, his jedi robe badly torned, already pushed down and bunched on his hips, leaving his muscular torso entirely bare. You would have noticed his perfectly drawn abs if you weren’t distracted by his right arm. From his elbow down, it is entirely made of gold and black metal, with armored panels mimicking the size of his other regular arm, complete with what look like delicate fingers. A mechno-arm. You’ve never seen one quite like it. It must cost a small fortune, and it is definitely custom. But it’s also definitely wrecked.

“So, you’re the biomechanics expert?”

“Mechanic. Just a mechanic. But I know a thing or two about cybernetics.”

“Great.” He says with a cynical tone before making a pause, eyeing you down shamelessly for a tad too long, as you cross your arms and raise an eyebrow at his poor manners. He smirks at your reaction, and cocks his chin up before continuing.

“Well, anyway, I’ll guide you, I know what’s going on with my arm, I just need a helping hand.”

He says that with a lot more confidence than what you would expect from someone his young age, almost condescending - but you can’t really be mad at him, considering the guy has the Force and looks like this. You would be insufferable as well.

Sometimes life is unfair, you think, too bad he chose to become a warrior monk, because you wouldn’t mind tinkering with more than his arm.

You take a deep breath, and just get on with it, starting to work on his prosthetic, following his instructions. Even if he hasn’t all the correct vocabulary, the man actually knows what’s wrong with his arm, and you’re a little bit annoyed at the fact he was right. You would have gladly taught him a lesson, making his cocksure smirk and patronizing tone go away just for a second. Nonetheless, you listen to what he explains, and after a while, you realize you’re just executing his directions without second guessing him, lulled by his warm voice, scrunched over his mechanical arm, your face just inches away from his very human skin.

After an hour, you’re done, and his fingers are back to life, the mechanism slightly buzzing while he lifts his hand to his face, watching with an honest smile as his movements resume. You’re watching as well, mesmerized by the way his metal fingers move with such great finesse. It’s almost surreal when you know the inhumane strength he could deploy thanks to the alloy ligaments, a deadly threat just lying under golden fingertips.

Your gaze switches to his face, and you allow yourself to stare a little. He’s young but the toll of war is already showing, the kindness of his eyes hidden behind a steely veil, a scar running way too close from his right eye. His hair is a mess, long light-brownish locks with a few blond strands. His innocence is long gone, replaced by a mix of fierce resolve and cocky attitude. He’s handsome, you won’t lie to yourself. And his toned body matches his pretty face. Even the mechanical arm adds to his charm. You’re sure some would be repulsed by it, but you’re definitely not. You can’t stop wondering what it’s like for him when he touches something, when he touches someone. And you can’t stop wondering what it’s like to be touched by those fingers, to feel the smooth golden steel on your skin. Would it be warm? Or cold?

You’re pulled out of your daydreaming by a cough. Anakin is now looking at you, and his knowing gaze is making you doubt if he’s reading your mind. There are many rumors about the powers jedi can have, and you suddenly blush at the realization he might actually be.

“Well, thanks, it works fine again.” he says with a falsely natural tone. “But I think I need to run just a few tests, you know, to make sure the sensation is back. Would you like to help me? I warn you, it can be a bit… overwhelming.” He says that as his mechanical hand grazes at your naked forearm, his self-confident grin back on his face, and you can’t miss the sexual undertone of his proposition. The feeling sends chills in your whole body, the metal of his fingertips is definitely cold — at least, for now. You’re a bit taken aback because you weren’t expecting advances from a literal monk, but at the same time you know you’re too curious and too horny already to pass down such an invitation.

“And how can I help?” you ask not so innocently.

“Glad you ask.” he answers, as he hops down from the table, an even bigger grin on his face.

You don’t have the time to realize what’s going on, but he lifts you up and slams you down on the table before climbing back on top of you, resting on his knees, arms caging you.

He hushes you when you want to protest against his manhandling, but you can’t deny the fact it’s turning you on even more. He watches your face intently as his mechanical hand is caressing your cheek, then shifting lower on your throat. He squeezes gently, just to see how you would react, and he’s pleased to hear you gasp at the tiniest of pressure. It’s making you dizzy, the knowledge he could literally crush you if he wanted to, and you’re being amazed at the control he shows instead.

His hand doesn’t stay there for long though, and goes even lower, shortly groping your breast before sliding further down until it stops at the waistband of your pants. He waits a second here, scanning you for any form of approval, before resuming when you thrust your hips slightly up against his palm, letting him know you’re looking for more.

He loses no time, snaking his hand under your pants and in your panties, cupping your cunt. The metal of his fingers is warmer now, thanks to your own body heat, but the feeling is still foreign although not unpleasant. He parts your folds, tracing a finger from your entrance to your clit, spreading your wetness there. The pitiful whine that escapes your lips as he starts circling the bundle of nerves makes him chuckle. He’s visibly enjoying the way you react under his touch.

The smooth steel of his golden fingertips feels like heaven against your sensitive parts, and you already know you won’t last long. He rises a bit, sitting on his heels so he can use his left arm to pin you down, real fingers made of flesh cruelly biting in your hips to keep you in place for what’s coming next.

He stops his ministrations and coats two of his metallic fingers in your juices before sinking them slowly inside of you. You stop breathing as you watch his fingers disappear between your legs with awe. You feel every ridges and bumps of the mechanical knuckles as they slide in and out of you, and when his thumb finds your clit again, you’re glad he’s actually pinning you down, because it’s suddenly too much to handle. Your back arches and your head slams down against the unforgivable steel of the medical table. In other circumstances, you would complain, but you just can’t find a good reason to care right now.

Anakin keeps on moving his fingers, relentlessly bringing you closer to the edge. Your whines are now moans, and he gives you a mean look, mouthing a “shut up”. You almost forgot you were in the middle of a military base, and that anyone could enter the room you were in at any time now. You clamp your hand on your mouth, trying desperately to keep quiet as the bastard is slowing his pace but increasing the pressure of his touch, crooking the fingers inside of you to rub against that perfect spot that makes you see stars. It’s a matter of seconds before you come with a muffled whimper, eyes closed, hips rising up from the table. He doesn’t stop until you push his hand away as the pleasure-pain of overstimulation settles in.

“It looks all good, thanks for helping.” he says with a cocky little smile, while you try to catch your breath. He wipes his mechanical arm on your pants, like it’s just a random rag, and you’re too shocked by the sheer audacity of the man to think of a retort.

You barely have the time to get back on your feet, that the door of the room is sliding open, revealing a visibly displeased Obi-Wan.

“You’ done yet?”

You open your mouth to answer but Anakin is quicker.

“Yes, Master. We were just making sure the repair is efficient.”

He says that with his usual grin and while looking the older jedi dead in the eye. You wonder how he managed to do that when some of his fingers still smell like you. You’re also jealous of the fact his crumpled robe is making a decent job at hiding his hard-on, while the wet patch on your pants where Anakin wiped his fingers is all too visible.

“It seems your hand is working perfectly again, Anakin.”

The tone of Obi-Wan's voice is half-amused, half-annoyed when he says that, his eyes on you, rather than on his padawan. You wonder if he knows what just happened, causing your face to grow hot under his suspicious gaze.

“Just ask the trooper outside for your payment” he adds bluntly, before asking Anakin to follow him for a briefing where they’re both needed.

As they exit the room, the younger jedi turns to you.

“I know I can count on you if I ever need more repairs. I’ll make sure to request you, personally.”

Your face is getting even more red as you mumble a good-bye to the two warriors.

The paycheck was generous, but honestly? You would be lying to yourself if you would not admit you’d do it all over again for free.

#anakin imagine #anakin x reader #star wars fanfiction #anakin smut #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #gender neutral imagine

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offaeandcreation · 3 years

Text

A Pearl Lost and Found

“This is the composition I made for my final exam; its name is ‘A Pearl Button Lost and Found.’” She announced. Finally, she settled her fingers on the guqin and rang her first chord.

Meng Shi waited and waited. Trained A-Yao in everything she knew; reading, writing, music, even squirreling away every extra coin on cultivation manuals. A-Yao must be ready for when Jin Guangshan returned for them. For him. For her. Day in and day out. He trained. She worked.

Jin Guangshan did not return.

CW: Implied/Referenced Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Financial Issues Referenced

AO3

A breeze rushed through the open hall, sweeping the white and blue banners of the Gusu Lan Sect into a dance. Though the noise never passed a whisper, a hush settled as a young woman ambled into the hall. With her guqin tucked in a silk sleeve under her arm, robes curling around her like blooming petals of a flower, Meng Shi settled in her place at the front of the hall like an immortal cultivator, long fingers ghosting over the qin strings.

“This is the composition I made for my final exam; its name is ‘A Pearl Button Lost and Found.’” She announced. Finally, she settled her fingers on the guqin and rang her first chord.

~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~

She dreamed Jin Guangshan would return for her. Constructed fantasies where one night he would sweep into the brothel, take A-Yao into his arms, smiling as he did so, and ferry them away. Far away.

Deep in the nights, while a client would take their pleasure inside her, Meng Shi would dream: it was him, not a client. She was in Jin Guangshan’s bed, married and unworried when her next meal would be. And A-Yao was practicing cultivation and studying the six arts, not hidden in a closet away from wandering eyes. Sometimes, when the client was especially rough, not bothering to even use oil, (or letting her slip it on), she would clutch the pearl button he had given her so tightly she would find its imprint inscribed into her palm the next morning.

A button and a dream. That’s all she had.

Day in and day out. He trained. She worked.

Jin Guangshan did not return.

~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~

The chords soft and slow, required Meng Shi to hold down zither strings while plucking others. And then the pause. The last note hung in the air, stringing the audience into an uncomfortable pause. Made them freeze, spines akin to metal spikes – waiting for the breath, the respite. Just like she was all those years. At least, they had the privilege of it lasting only for a moment.

~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~

The one who freed her out of the brothel did not wear gold. At least in his robes; he brought no buttons or promises.

In fact, when they first met, she didn’t even know who he was.

The last visages of sunlight vanished beneath the horizon. A couple days off, only during the time she bled. Cramps tightened their grip around Meng Shi’s waist and it must have shown on her face for A-Yao crept closer, clutching at her skirt. She squeezed his hand with a smile, making certain her eyes crinkled. A-Yao returned the grin. She wondered if it was as false as her own.

The merchant selling the cultivation manuals often took his place at the end of the street, just at the intersection between the poor and rich red district in Yunping. She scanned the crowd for the familiar squirrelly-mustached man in blue or green hemp. Loud chatter boomed in the busy street as vendors and prostitutes called out to potential customers. Potential coin. Another meal. Another day.

“Are you looking for your friends?” A voice said very much close by. The sort of slurred smirking tone Meng Shi was all too familiar with. She pulled A-Yao close, using her sleeve and skirts to hide him, her fingers dug into her purse, nails scraping through the thin material into the too little coin. She peered over her shoulder, scanning for the drunkard.

Not even a couple paces away, said drunkard lounged on a nearby pillar, liquor pouring down his chin as he looked down on what appeared to be a cloaked person—their back to her. The fabric looked thin, and it shimmered against the torchlight.

Red silk, most likely. Rich.

Though the weather wasn’t as humid as it usually was this time of year, it was obvious the person wished to hide their identity. As if a rich man could shed his origin so easily in these parts.

“I asked where Yunmeng is.” A youthful voice replied, coming from the throat of someone who just stepped over the door’s ledge of adolescence into adulthood thoug it didn’t crack, “either tell me or I’m leaving.”

A gold piece flashed in the torchlight.

Her coin purse too light.

The merchant may raise the price again. And she wouldn’t even be able to afford a meal for A-Yao.

“A-Niang?” A-Yao asked. They had stopped walking.

The drunkard’s eyes glittered, a slow dripping grin spread on his face, “Ah, what a junior, so impatient. Too embarrassed to enter a brothel? With your pretty face, you may get even a discount!”

The young man bristled, hand flying to his side. The drunkard’s smile fell away into horror, skin sheet-white.

“I’m sure if I swing around your pretty face, anyone would give me a discount.” The young man hissed.

Meng Shi frowned. Rich and spoiled. Likely to flash a weapon he couldn’t even yield.

She pulled A-Yao along. Not worth the risk.

“A-Niang,” A-Yao said as they slipped back into the flow of the crowd, “I think he is a cultivator.”

~~~

The merchant raised the price.

Meng Shi tucked the booklet into her sleeve alongside the painfully empty purse. A-Yao dragged his feet on the pebbled ground, kicking up dirt clouds. They walked down a smaller street now, crowds and people leaning more into the open, brightly colored shops. Surprisingly enough, this side of the street remained empty. Not even drunkards or thieves hung around. Something about a ghost wandering the area. Not that she had ever seen it.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer, frowning at her sleeve before pulling at her skirt to continue back to the brothel, “It’s nothing, A-Niang.”

The third time he got like this.

“A-Yao, please-” Meng Shi stopped, clutching the book closer to herself.

“The cultivator is here.” A-Yao interrupted, pointing behind her instead.

Meng Shi turned, and indeed a silhouette with a cloak leaped from balcony to balcony, right to the roof of an abandoned tea-house. No one had picked up the place due to the leaky, broken roof…

“Master cultivator! Watch out!” The cry tore out of her throat.

The moment the words left her mouth, the cultivator sunk into the rooftop as if it devoured him. A loud, painful crash.

Meng Shi covered her mouth with her sleeve. The tea-house simply too unsafe for her to enter, and what even could she offer?

What is it with rich men fooling around and getting themselves into trouble?

She should just leave. Perhaps the cultivator broke a bone or two, but he had the funds for a doctor, while if she so much as attempted to climb into the unstable building, a scratch could kill her.

A red light blinked in the holes of the house. Bright. Like a silent firework.

And the young cultivator shot up through the hole in the roof, cloak billowing around him like a flying flag. Sword beneath him, engulfed in the colors of a scarlet star.

Is this how Jin Guangshan flew? Would A-Yao one day be like an immortal, flying above them all?

She clutched the book closer. Hopefully.

The red light remained only for a moment, disappearing before anyone in the crowd noticed him.

He landed right in front of them. The wind swirled around him, cupping his figure in the air. A slow descent, a god. Meng Shi pulled A-Yao close, bowing her head.

“Is this esteemed cultivator injured?” She asked, eyeing the red, bleeding slashes on his exposed hands and chin. Her mind raced, tracing the building of the local doctor on a mental map. Yes, down two streets and-

“No need.” The cultivator replied.

A-Yao’s gasp tore her attention back to him.

The red slices slowly shrunk and disappeared, like wiping off makeup.

The cloak’s hood that framed his face slipped to reveal dark hair wound up in an elaborate hairstyle, clipped probably with some luxurious pin, hidden in shadow. Round red eyes met hers, “I appreciate your warning, however.”

Irises scanned her before shifting to A-Yao, peeking his head from behind her. He too must have seen how his wounds vanished in a flash.

“What a sweet-faced son, impressed?” Voice tilted up with a pride of a purring cat. Crescent smile to match.

A-Yao nodded, though his white-knuckled grip on Meng Shi’s skirt revealed his trepidation.

The cultivator slid a sword into its sheath, gold with motifs woven in. But the light from the shops and vendors proved to be insufficient lighting to see what they were.

Very expensive. Perhaps when Jin Guangshan took A-Yao to the Jinlintai, he would finally get one.

“Perhaps you can help me with a matter.” The cultivator said, “do you know-”

“Yunmeng is on the northern end of the city which you can find the lake to cross to reach it following up this street,” A-Yao said, pointing behind the cultivator.

Meng Shi squeezed A-Yao’s shoulder, “do not interrupt someone, A-Yao.” Much less a rich, dangerous cultivator.

The cultivator blinked before bursting into laughter, “I actually was going to ask something else, but clearly you must have walked by me earlier to overhear that interesting conversation.”

A cold pit dropped into Meng Shi’s gut. She swung her sleeve to cover A-Yao. Maybe he wouldn’t punish them for the interruption. Maybe-

The booklet went flying, clattering into the dirt as its flimsy spine snapped. Colorful papers skidded across the ground, flashing their contents for all to see.

And the coin purse slumped to the ground, not even containing a coin for a single clunk.

Meng Shi gasped. A-Yao scrambled on his hands and knees, picking up the scattered paper. She too, though tears blurred her vision, never mind her skirt, scrambled the precious paper up from the ground. There is no way the merchant would even allow them to exchange the book! He would demand money. And the pages were out-of-order now, not even numbered. How would A-Yao use it now?!

“What is this?” The cultivator leaned over, picking up a sheet.

Meng Shi bowed her head, shoulders shaking. Please don’t laugh at her. Please don’t-

“A cultivation manual, esteemed cultivator,” A-Yao answered, also bowing his head, remembering his manners.

Meng Shi dared to look up. The cultivator frowned at the sheet, flipping it back and forth. The line between his brows growing into a crevice. His gaze shifted back to A-Yao, “You eagerly want to become a cultivator?”

A-Yao hesitated, glancing at Meng Shi for assurance.

“I’d prefer you wouldn’t lie to me. There won’t be a consequence for your answer, but I hate liars.” The cultivator interrupted. He crossed his arms, but the page didn’t so much as crinkle. Long sharp nails barely ghosting the fragile paper.

“My father is a cultivator,” A-Yao replied, voice even.

“Oh?” The cultivator leaned back, posture relaxing a bit, “And who is this man? I might know him.”

“Sect Leader Jin Guangshan.”

The cultivator… flinched. He opened his mouth, paused, before closing.

Did something happen to Jin Guangshan? Why did he flinch? Was he this cultivator’s sworn enemy? Were they in danger?

He said nothing. And A-Yao remained in his spot, not so much as flinching or trembling under the red-eyed stare. Even with placid smile—the same mask Meng Shi wore with the more difficult clients.

The cultivator finally sighed, breaking the silence, and changing the subject, “What do you think of this… manual?” The way the words came out sounded like he just had eaten some strange-tasting fruit.

Meng Shi’s hand curled into a fist, hidden beneath her sleeve. How dare he? She stayed up night after night, working, spreading her damned legs for ferocious beasts to claw a meal for them. To get A-Yao schooled. To get those manuals so he could leave and never look back. Meng Shi would bet her pearl button given as a gift, as a promise, that this man wouldn’t survive one night working as a prostitute. And he had the gall to look down at the manual. At her?

A-Yao’s gaze flittered to the ground.

“Remember, I don’t like liars.” The cultivator reminded him.

“These manuals are useless,” A-Yao said. Now he shook, eyes flitting between her and the cultivator.

The wind stole her breath.

No.

No, he had to be incorrect.

A-Yao must have been doing something wrong, perhaps the manuals were too advanced or-

The cultivator smiled, sharp-edged like the sword he wore on his belt, “Correct. These are more likely to give you Qi deviation than anything else. A useless endeavor.” He then turned to her.

Only clasping her hands together, digging nails into her flesh kept her from bursting into tears, “You have a clever son. A shame really that-” he paused, frowning at her. The relaxed arrogance in his posture dissipated. Tht stupid smirk fell away.

A rich. Spoiled. Brat-

“Your name?”

He suddenly wanted to know her name?!

“Meng Shi.” She hissed, grinding her teeth together to keep angry words from spilling.

At A-Yao, “and yours?”

“Meng Yao.” Obediently, responded with a salute.

“We’ll meet again then.” The cultivator said with a wave, cloak billowing like a curtain in the wind as he walked away, without a goodbye.

“A-Niang…”

“Let’s go home.”

~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~

The melody changed to something heavier, sadness into tension, but a playful sharp tune echoed within the pauses. How else would she paint their benefactor? Outer appearance merely a veneer of youth. Sharp-edged and almost bordering cruel. But unlike a certain man with a certain button, the man kept his promise. Foreshadowed in a lack of a goodbye and by the tune she plucked on the zither.

~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~

Two nights later, as Meng Shi calculated the number of clients she would need to take on extra to buy a refill of rouge, anything but to think about the collection of false manuals stacked in a corner behind A-Yao when a rapid knock forced her to open her door early.

Sisi waited with a frown on her face. Lips already painted in her favorite deep rose pink, “Madame says someone is here for you.”

Meng Shi’s fingers dug into the old wood. Nails too short, clipped to defenseless crescent-moons, unable to even make a scratch on her damn door.

“A-Yao.” She gestured at her son, who had looked up from his poetry book when the door knocked, skin turning pale, “go hide. Only come out when I come for you.”

He nodded, slipping past her and Sisi with his shoulders hunched.

“Watch over him, please-”

Sisi grabbed her hand, warming her cold, trembling fingers between her palms, “I’ll scratch out anyone who so much as looks his direction.”

Meng Shi nodded, touching her hair, making sure not a single stubborn strand stood out of place. And she went to the first floor.

Madame Meng stood at the front room of the brothel with a cloaked man, taller than the young cultivator she met a few nights before but wearing the same color outer robes, standing akin to a column holding up a temple, with a stone expression to match.

“It appears a Young Master bought your contract.” Madame Meng twitched a false smile as Meng Shi lifted her head from her bow, “and your son’s.”

Meng Shi’s jaw dropped. She stared at the Madame before shifting to the unexpressive, unfamiliar man.

“Take any possessions and your son. I’ll escort you to your carriage.” The man said.

The debt? The contract? Everything? Paid?

The glimmer of excitement popped. The red robe. He must have been that youngster’s servant or something. Most likely, he bought her to be his concubine.

But a concubine didn’t have to take on clients.

Better than a prostitute.

Maybe if she asked nicely, she could ask for A-Yao to learn cultivation…

“Of course, please give me half a sichen.” She bowed again. Her throat closed up.

~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~

Meng Shi’s hands flew on the guqin. The melody bright, full of scales and chords, forcing her arms to run up and down the entirety of the instrument. Sweat trickled down her spine. Above the fast-paced song, murmurs among the crowd hummed in the background.

And then a pause, before she started the remix, a softer, sweeter tune than the first set of verses she played.

~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~

The youngster cultivator ended up to be older than she was, revealing himself to be Sect Leader Wen.

He had no interest in making her his concubine.

Instead, he had A-Yao immediately swept away to join the other junior cultivators. And herself, a two-story house within Nightless City, with two servants, and an allowance.

Meng Shi waited with baited breath for the ‘but.’ When Sect Leader Wen announced it, he easily read her.

“All talent should be part of my sect. Why should I let anyone else snatch your son up?” The response came with another of his sharp-toothed smiles.

Well… as long as A-Yao wasn’t in any danger…

That was it. Right? A-Yao studied cultivation under the banners of the greatest Sect in the cultivation world. She no longer had to take clients to bring food to the table. And she bought Sisi’s contract as well.

But her hands itched.

“The Gusu Lan Sect’s expertise is in musical cultivation,” A-Yao mentioned offhandedly once, among a tirade of other information about the Great Sects.

An idea popped like a firecracker. At the very least, she would have fun for an evening if it didn’t go as planned.

~~~

The Wen Clan had more than enough money to throw at almost any form of entertainment while juggling the expenses of running the biggest sect there was without a hitch. Every couple of evenings, entertainers would perform for the clan in their private dining room. Guests, lucky enough to be invited, often came back with stories such as the one time Madame Wen paid a troupe of fire-breathing acrobats to accompany an announcement of her pregnancy. By coincidence, A-Yao befriended First Master Wen Xu and had been invited to dine with the main branch more than a handful of times. He mentioned Sect Leader Wen paid musicians this time around.

Asking permission to play one song on the guqin on that nights proved to be quite easy: certainly helped to slip a bag of coins to the troupe leader and flutter her eyelashes.

She prepared like she would for work, excluding the ruffling of fabric and sewing of her sleeves so they would hitch up whenever she twisted her wrist. With her guqin in its silk sleeve, she slipped into the room, earning a nod from the musicians and a confused stare by the bodyguard Wen Zhuliu.

“It’s just a performance. Don’t worry.” She whispered to him, placing a manicured finger to her lips.

It earned her more blinking, but he let her in.

Servants milled about the never-ending sea of tables in the private dining hall. Members of the Wen clan with their flame robes sat in sections, eating and talking, passing and turning the revolving trays filled to the brim with soups, meats, and noodles. And at the back of the room, on an elevated platform, the main branch with their fiery collars towered above the rest. And A-Yao.

He quickly noticed her presence, followed by Sect Leader Wen. A raised eyebrow, but she only bowed in his direction before taking a seat where the musicians set up.

Straight back, head angled, guqin propped on the carpeted. And she played.

It was a melody she composed many years ago. Sweet like the lychee she peeled for A-Yao, sprinkled with a little Yunmeng spice she could afford once a year.

The piece came to an end to a silent room. Disciples and elders alike all watched her with mesmerized gazes. And then the clapping began.

~~~

“An excellent performance; I didn’t hear such quality for many years.” Sect Leader Wen mentioned the following day. On purpose, Meng Shi escorted A-Yao to his classes, something she hadn’t done since the first six months of their arrival. And as she prepared to leave, Sect Leader Wen materialized behind her.

Meng Shi bowed, “many thanks to Sect Leader.” She clutched her sleeves to not flick her wrists.

Sect Leader Wen tilted his head, “but I’m guessing you didn’t perform just for fun.”

Meng Shi returns a smile, “I was hoping to showcase my abilities, so Sect Leader may consider allowing me to continue my music study?”

“Oh?~” A pause as Sect Leader Wen tapped under his chin, most likely pondering the matter, “This year, the Gusu Lan Sect will host a discussion conference. Perhaps you wish to come with Meng Yao?”

~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~

The music ended. A long chord held with crescendoing trills before drifting off into oblivion. Only its echo remained in the quiet hall.

Unlike the private dining hall of the Wen clan, the Lan Sect clapped quietly—crisp and polite.

Even A-Yao matched their volume and rhythm, though she could read his posture to be restless with how wide his grin spread on his face and how the muscles in his hands twitched.

Meng Shi saluted, signaling the end of her examination

Lan Qiren, acting Sect Leader, gave a single curt nod. Perhaps it was just the light, but she swore he wore a tiny twitch of a smile, “The examiners and I will return once we have our verdict.”

Even with the budding...relationship? between them, she was sure Lan Qiren would judge her purely on merit and performance.

An incense stick later, with a smile no longer hidden, he announced:

She passed.

#Meng shi #meng yao #jin guangyao #wen ruohan #lan qiren #jin guangshan #mo dao zu shi

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siriuscatbennett · 3 years

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The First Avenger info dump because I can

Enlistment/Dog Tags/Awards:

It is canon that Bucky Barnes enlisted on his own right after Pearl Harbor (and Steve tried). This would make his dog tags a type two. His service number would start with a 1 (enlisted army soldier) and a 2 (from New York). This site can be used to generate dog tag numbers (I haven’t tried all the functions, but be aware the O for officers is a 0 starting in 1942).

During WW2 (amongst other times), there was the Regular Army and the Army of the United States (which no longer exists). Voluntary enlisted men were in the Regular, with draftees in the other (officers were often part of both and had two separate ranks). If you choose to divert from canon and make Bucky a draftee (I personally have always liked this fanon because I’m evil), his service number would start with 32 (drafted, New York). This would also better explain why Bucky rises to the rank of Sergeant so quickly as promotions happened constantly in the AUS ( Dwight D. Eisenhower rose from a colonel to five-star general in three years).

Steve would have a different type of dog tags than Bucky (including a different chain). He would have a type three (as would anyone between July 20, 1943 and March 31, 1944). I will illustrate the differences below with the custom tags I made for Steve's sister and Bucky in my fanfic (feel free to use the info from them). The N and 7 in her tag are for nurse.

The T42 you’ll see below is the year tetanus shots were recieved. I’ve seen some with two years and some with one. The B is blood type and the P is religion.

Steve received an award for rescuing the POWs. Seeing as this wasn’t presented by the president, I’ve decided it was the Distinguished Service Cross. This award comes with a $2 pay raise; as a Captain, Steve previously made $200 a month, paid monthly (post-serum). Bucky made $78 as a Sergeant, with a $3.90 pay raise after 3 years of service (December 1944). Steve also obtained SSR pins after joining them (and I believe the Howling Commandos should have as well). (Even though nurses had the rank of an officer, they didn’t get equal pay until after WW2. They earned $70 a month for the first 3 years.)

Many soldiers put their second dog tag in their boot, usually slipped on the shoe laces in between the tongue and top of the shoe.

Not a fact, but I will add a link here to a website where you can either buy Bucky/Steve’s dogtags or make custom ones for $10 (personally, I would advocate for the custom as Bucky’s say he’s not from NY and show he is a draftee. Also, he has type B blood, not O. And Steve is Protestant, not Catholic. The site also states officer’s service numbers didn’t start with 9, but those with special duties did. His service number would most like be between 800000 and 999999, starting with a 0- to show he’s an officer).

Sister: Margaret E Rogers N-724669 T42 B P

Bucky: James B Barnes 12831412 T42 B Margaret Rogers (next of kin) 1404 Alameda Ave (next of kin address) Brooklyn NY P (address, religion)

Italian Front:

Seeing as the 107th were venturing to England in June 1943, they most likely headed straight to Sicily from there (or diverged if they had fuel) to aid in the invasion, continuing into the invasion of the mainland before pushing troops back toward Austria. Italy surrendered at the very beginning of the invasion of the mainland, so the Allies only fought Nazis and Italian soldiers loyal to Mussolini (National Republican Army), who was arrested during the invasion of Sicily and broken out during the mainland invasion. Seeing as Chester Phillips and Peggy were with Steve, they must have joined the 107th later. In my canon, they (and Howard) join at the beginning of the mainland invasion.

AM-lira (Allied-Military Currency), 100 "am-lire" for a U.S. dollar, was the currency specifically put into circulation for Allied Military after the landing in Sicily. It was used interchangeably with their normal currency. Once the Howling Commandoes join the SSR, they use British currency.

The 107th’s camp pre-Battle of Azzano was most likely behind the Volturno Line. Azzano is part of Umbria, which was about 170 miles into enemy territory.

Post-Azzano, the camp was most likely behind the Barbara Line. Walking approx 533 miles from Kreuzberg, Austria, with troops alternating resting periods in the trucks, walking approximately 42 miles for 12 hours a day, they would reach camp in thirteen days.

Random:

Steve’s canon address according to Avengers is 1404 Alameda Ave. Brooklyn, NY 11362. This is a Queens zip code. I changed it to 11237.

As a Sergeant, Bucky would command a squad of 12 soldiers (privates), split into 3 fireteams. He was also assigned a PFC (one of the scout riflemen) as an assistant; this soldier could serve as either the squad leader's messenger to the platoon commander or could be used to relay orders to other squad teams, as needed. Sergeants are responsible for the individual training, personal appearance and cleanliness of their soldiers, and are expected to set a standard for lower-ranked soldiers to live up to.

Women did have their own army sect for part of the war (Women’s Army Corps) but they didn’t go overseas as they didn’t legally get benefits overseas {I didn’t read a lot on this, take this with a grain of salt}. They did all the non-fighting jobs like listening to radio transmissions and fixing weapons.

On the ship, there were three-tier bunks. Enlisted men got footlockers under their beds (you could lift up the base), while officers got standing lockers. I would assume water on ships was cold, filtered from the ocean, and they had showers.

Showers were available but not popular at this time, just like hot water heaters. Many people still boiled water to take baths. People also didn’t bathe as often and there was only one kind of shampoo and no conditioner. Women made their own concoctions, used soap, or straight up would do egg masks. Hair was kept clean by doing the “100 strokes” with a hairbrush that was cleaned after every use. Indoor heating also wasn’t used everywhere, leaving many places still using things like fireplaces and wood stoves.

Soldiers used latrines in WW2. They also used a bucket of water and a bar of soap to wash. When water was unavailable and snow was, it was melted and used. They could also simply use things like rivers and lakes if available but if unnecessary, weren't used as lice was prevalent along with disease. Clothes weren't washed often (depending on the situation, some men went weeks without washing their uniform, only changing into dry socks when necessary) but when they were, they were boiled in big pots of water in mass and hung on a line to dry (there were also other ways, but I preferred this one). They carried an extra shirt, socks and laces, water canteen, ammunition, a spade, grenades, a gas mask, food rations, a cup, a wash kit (toothpaste, razor, comb, etc), first aid pouch, and a helmet (usually on their head) in their haversack's/on their belt (and rations, of couse). There was also a tent pack, but most soldiers would simply carry a raincoat. Lots of candles and oil lanterns to light the night. Canvas water bags – also known as Lister bags – were hung around camps and used for dispensing drinking water in which a dose of chlorine was added for purification.

Medical:

Morbidity from such diseases as tuberculosis (anti-tuberculosis agents didn’t begin to appear until 1949), rheumatic fever, typhus, dysentery, and malaria were high. There were tuberculosis quarantine wards separate from the other patients and were eventually evacuated. Frostbite was also common during the cold. Hepatitis A and B were also prevalent. Trench foot was also common, sometimes leading to jungle rot (often referred to as 'the creeping cruds'). PTSD was known then as 'battle fatigue'; men showcasing symptoms were often just given rest and food near the front lines and would normally rejoin the fight in a few days or were evacuated if necessary. All soldiers were vaccinated against tetanus, typhoid, smallpox, cholera, and yellow fever before shipping out. Dental hygiene was extremely important and many field hospitals were equipped with dental prosthetics.

Food:

A-Rations referred to fresh/refrigerated meats, bread, and vegetables, prepared in mess halls. These meals were basically the same as C-rations, but fresh and always warm.

C-Rations consisted of one M-unit (12 oz can, meat), one B-unit (12 oz can, bread/dessert), and an accessory pack. Each daily ration consisted of three M-units, three B-units, and three accessory packs (one for each meal). The cans were made of tinplate. The cans had a gold lacquer finish. C-rations can be eaten cold or hot and were cooked with a Coleman's pocket stove (which was made specifically for WW2 soldiers).

M-units initially had three kinds: meat and beans, meat and potato hash, and meat and vegetable stew. In 1943, meat and spaghetti in tomato sauce was added; along with meat and noodles, pork and rice, frankfurters and beans, and chicken & vegetables in 1944. 1944 also brought a chopped ham, egg, & potato unit and compressed cereal B-units to replace meat & vegetable hash.

B-units contained crackers, three sugar tablets, loose candy (Brach's chocolate caramels, candy-coated peanuts/raisins, Charms hard candy), and a packet/small can of beverage mix (instant coffee, powdered lemon drink, or bouillon soup powder). Orange drink powder was added in 1944. Due to spoilage, the loose candy was replaced in 1944 with a Brach's fudge disk or a Jim dandy.

Accessory packs (brown butcher paper) contained sugar tablets, water purification tablets, a flat wooden spoon, a piece of candy-coated chewing gum, three 3-packs or one 9-pack of cigarettes, a book of 20 moisture resistant matches, a paper-wrapped P-38 can opener (with instructions that everyone immediately throws out), and about 22.5 sheets of toilet paper. Cigarette brands included Camel, Chelsea, Chesterfield, Craven A-Brand, Lucky Strike, Old Gold, Philip Morris, Player's, Raleigh, and Wings (these were traded constantly). Can openers were meant to be disposable but soldiers wore them on their dog tags for later use either with opening cans or other things (clean muddy boots, screw screws, open letters, strip wires, trim loose thread, and sharpen pencils).

Seriously. They really gave every single soldier three can openers a day. With printed instructions. During metal rationing. Of which soldiers just put them on thier dog tag chains for later use. Where did all these excess can openers go? And why half a sheet of toilet paper?

Clothes:

The nurses wore an olive drab service jacket and skirt (they are seen in pants as well) and cap, khaki shirt and tie, and brown shoes (wore nursing shoes or boots). The rank insignia (a single gold bar for second lieutenants, the vast majority of nurses) was worn on the epaulets. A gold "U.S." pin was worn on each collar, and a gold caduceus with a red N was worn on each lapel. Whenever the service jacket wasn't worn, the rank insignia was pinned to the right collar, the caduceus on the left.

Soldier’s field uniforms looked like this (with some adjustments based on gun used). And yes, the leggings are neccessary, they helped keep feet dry:

The layout I made for Steve’s apartment (there are 2 beds and dressers in the spare room because Bucky lives there too, feel free to change this):

These aren’t all the links I used, because I’ve gone through a lot, like a lot, but here are the ones I saved that are relevant (I don’t like using wiki but I cross-checked any info stated above):

https://www.google.com/amp/s/screenrant.com/winter-soldier-mcu-complete-timeline-bucky-barnes/amp/ https://movies.stackexchange.com/questions/65170/how-did-bucky-get-the-rank-of-sergeant https://marvel-movies.fandom.com/wiki/Steven_Rogers https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Italian_campaign_(World_War_II) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allied_invasion_of_Sicily https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allied_invasion_of_Italy https://history.amedd.army.mil/booksdocs/wwii/medsvcsinmedtrnmnrthrtrs/chapter6.htm https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Squad https://www.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/4j8zos/pay_of_american_gis_during_world_war_ii/ https://blogs.stockton.edu/womeninwwtwo/womens-military-involvemnt/womens-nurse-corps/#:~:text=The%20pay%20of%20members%20in,per%20month%E2%80%9D%20(2). https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Service_number_(United_States_Army) https://www.med-dept.com/articles/u-s-army-ww2-dog-tags/

Find me on Wattpad here where all of this information and more will be compiled in a Bucky Barnes series with mediocre writing (coming soon).

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

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lip sync your way into my heart

( @thecomfortofoldstorries and I got into a fun head-cannon debate last night about Tik Tok POVs and this is what happened)

--- Jaskier has never really been in the loop when it comes to social media. He was behind the curve when he made his Tumblr and he was two years late to sign up for Twitter. It’s no surprise that he finally downloads Tik Tok and makes an account several months after it’s become a viral platform.

That also means all the good usernames are taken; Jaskier types in @buttercup-bard, sees that it’s available, and calls it a day. This isn’t an app he’s going to care about. It’s just to waste time during his forty minute commute to and from campus.

Alas, he has ADHD...and this shit is addictive.

Especially, he hates to admit, the thirst-trap hotties who do weird, obscure, edgy POV videos. Jaskier knows they’re aimed primarily towards teen and young adult women but he’s a red-blooded Redanian gay. He’s horny. He can watch a few POV Tik Toks on the bus and thirst after pretty boys with big muscles...as a treat.

By Jaskier’s second week of classes he’s found a definite favorite Tik-Tokker (is that what they’re called? Or is it influencer? Jaskier doesn’t care). The guy is gorgeous. He has beautiful honey-gold eyes and long, silvery-white hair; which is appropriate since his handle is @whitehairdontcare. He makes a wide range of content, too. Perfect for Jaskier’s Concerta-focused tastes. There are some dances here and there and some Q&A videos, but for the most part he does POVs.

Jask and his roommates, Essi and Priscilla, have spent many happy hours poring over Mr. White Hair’s account, watching and re-watching their favorites from his vast repertoire of content. Essi loves his weird, edgy-boi shit. Stuff with titles like “POV: I fight the bully who insulted your haircut” or “POV: you make a deal with the devil for true love”. Stuff that Jaskier would have been into when he still listened to My Chemical Romance on the regular (okay, he still does, but don’t tell Essie).

Priscilla is a huge fan of Tik Tok dances. She follows every challenge and ranks her favorites, compiling them into a YouTube series that’s more for her self-gratification than anything else. Mr. White Hair is generally towards the top of her list whenever he deigns to follow a trend that doesn’t involve badly applied makeup blood smears. The guy clearly works out and the definition of his body (and the movements of said really hot body) make the dances look so much more fluid and fun. Jaskier and Priscilla clearly share a brain-cell when it comes to appreciating Mr. White Hair’s hotness.

Jaskier’s favorites, of course, are the cute little POVs that lie scattered between all the edgy ones. Stuff made for the softies of Tik Tok. Stuff made for boys like Jaskier. “POV: I fix your car for you” is the one he’s probably re-watched the most. Mr. White Hair is lying on his back beneath a jacked-up blue car, oil smeared in a few strategic places on his face, chest, and arms. At the very end of the Tik Tok he moves the wrench out of the way of his face completely and winks directly into the camera.

Jaskier hates to admit it, even to himself, but no matter how many times he’s watched that stupid twenty-give second video, that wink drops his heart straight down into his shoes and fills his stomach with butterflies.

---

“Hey do you guys carry fake blood here?” an almost terrifyingly deep voice asks from behind him. Jaskier twirls around on his heel, Retail Smile firmly in place, and loses his shit the moment he sets eyes on his latest customer.

It’s Mr. White Hair.

Here. In the middle of the aisle of the Party City where Jaskier works every weekend. He’s either going to throw up or pass out or both.

He doesn’t though. Instead, the Demon Lord of Retail possesses his body momentarily and nods, “Right over this way!” He leads the insanely attractive influencer over to the year-round section of Halloween FX makeup and gestures towards the shelf filled with various fake blood capsules, bottles, and packets.

“Thanks,” Mr. White hair smiles. Jaskier nods again, silent, and drifts back towards the counter in a daze. He’s the only one on shift right now (it is not a very busy Party City) and he knows that he can’t pass out on the dirty tile floor or he’ll get fired (and perhaps tetanus). He just needs to power through the next few minutes and then he can crouch next to the helium tank and freak the fuck out.

But not until Mr. White Hair is gone.

Just as Jaskier is re-learning how to breathe normally, the sexy internet star makes his way towards the counter with an armful of products and the retail worker loses it again. Thank god for the ability to compartmentalize.

“So, just these for you?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“No problem! I love your Tik Toks by the way,” Jaskier replies automatically. His eyes widen slightly. Why the fuck did I mention his Tik Toks!?

“Thanks,” the guy says and blushes. “I didn’t know they’d gotten so popular.”

“You have like two million followers?” Jaskier laughs. “I think that makes you pretty popular. Maybe even famous.”

“Oh yeah...right.”

“Anyway, your total is going to be twenty-one fifty.”

Mr. White Hair pays and Jaskier bags all his fake blood, wondering the whole time exactly what kind of content he can look forward to seeing. More of Essi’s edgy shit, apparently. As he’s handing the plastic bag over the counter, Jaskier smiles and works up the courage to ask, “Is your hair naturally white? I don’t mean to pry, it’s just really pretty.”

Geralt’s face goes slightly pinker than before and he nods. “Yeah. Weird genetic thing. Thanks.”

“No problem. Right on,” Jaskier beams. “Well, it was nice meeting a famous person. Thanks for stopping in.”

“Thanks for helping me out,” the Tik Tokker replies. Jaskier watches him exit the store before ripping his phone from his pocket and dialing Essi. He needs to talk to her before he spirals into a giddy panic attack.

---

“Hey Jask have you seen that hot guy’s latest Tik Tok?” Priscilla asks, lounging across her futon like a queen. Jaskier looks up from his copy of The Collective History of Aedirnian Funeral Dirges and wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion.

“No, why?”

“You should go check your phone. I think you’ll be happily surprised.”

“Oh-kay,” Jaskier says, drawing out the ‘kay’ for as long as it takes him to get up from his seat on the floor and exit the room. He retrieves his phone from the charger in the kitchen and returns to Priscilla’s bedside. He opens his new favorite app and pulls up @whitehairdontcare’s page. There’s a new POV from earlier this morning and Jaskier taps on it.

His eyes go round when he reads the caption: “POV: You’re the cute cashier at the Party City and I’m bad at flirting”.

Mr. White Hair is staring into the camera with those beautifully golden eyes, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand while he lip syncs to whatever song is playing. He’s wearing a tight, navy blue v-neck and Jaskier can see the movement of every one of his ridiculously defined muscles as they flex. The silver wolf’s-head necklace Mr. White Hair always wears around his neck is in its usual place, dangling down between those perfect collarbones…

Jaskier takes a shaky breath and glances up at his friends, who are staring back at him with wide eyes. “It could be about anyone.”

“How many Party Cities do you think he went to yesterday?”

“I’m not going to get my hopes up,” Jaskier snorts. “He’s a social media influencer and I am one semester away from finishing my degree and my thesis. Why would he ever want to be with someone like me?”

Essi rolls her eyes and Jaskier goes back to his homework.

---

Later that night, alone in his room, Jaskier plugs his earbuds into his phone and watches the Tik Tok over and over. He finds the song Geralt used and adds it to his Work Is Tough playlist, which he’s allowed to play over the loudspeakers at the store so long as he’s working a solo shift.

He watches Mr. White Hair’s plush pink lips move around the words and dreams of kissing them someday, as far-fetched as that scenario is (because this video is definitely not for him, that’s impossible):

“My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me.

So won't you kill me, so I die happy.

My heart is yours to fill or burst, to break or bury,

or wear as jewelry; whichever you prefer.”

Fucking Dashboard Confessional. Of course. One of Jaskier’s favorite bands from his emo days in middle school. If this really was for Jaskier, if this really was a legitimate attempt at online flirtation by Mr. White Hair himself, it was working.

Jaskier buries his head in his pillow and sighs.

#geraskier fic #geraskier tik tok au #there will be a part 2 i promise #geraskier fanfic #geraskier #geraskier au #all I do is make aus all day and work retail #geraskier fluff #flirty geralt #influencer geralt #party city employee jaskier #college student jaskier #geraskier college au #geraskier alternate universe #oops I keep making cute shit

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kiruuuuu · 4 years

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Smoke/Mute in which ten cups of coffee change Mute’s life. (Rating T, slice of life/fluff/budding romance, ~5.8k words) - written for none other than @nutbrain for being a remarkable human being and an even better friend 💖 Please enjoy!

Mark eyes the shopfront before him with suspicion. His safe haven apparently gone, a flashier version has taken its place some time during the semester break, keeping nothing but the location and the proffered goods. Instead of the old-fashioned, thick-cushioned chairs and dim lighting, the new café shines with an open-floor concept, simple wooden furniture and an overall dark look with specks of gold to brighten it up. Leo Coffee, reads the sign next to a golden logo displaying a roaring lion. What big cats have to do with coffee isn’t obvious to Mark, but he overcomes his initial distaste and steps inside nonetheless.

As visible from outside, the place is deserted. The previous coffee shop was frequented by businesspeople and students alike, located halfway between the campus and Mark’s dorm – on rainy days, people often took public transport and bought their coffee elsewhere, but even on those occasions, it’s never been as empty as this.

Not that Mark is complaining. If the coffee is good, he’ll continue frequenting the new shop, and being able to work in peace would be an added bonus. He is quite fond of Julien and Timur, but even so, they’re not the… easiest to live with. To say the least. A quiet place would be very welcome.

He sets his books down on the table furthest away from the counter, slings his bag over the back of a chair and approaches the empty void where an employee should be standing. This is when he notices another curiosity: there’s no menu board. There isn’t even a menu card by the counter or anywhere, really, only a glass case with a handful of baked goods inside, most of which look like a child made them. So far, the only redeeming quality is the delicious dark smell of roasted coffee beans lingering in the air.

After another minute, still nobody has appeared, so Mark checks his phone for reviews. If the place has less than four stars – alright, three, he’s giving them the benefit of the doubt purely because of their convenient location and quietness –, then he’s out of here. He can’t even remember the last time he had to wait this long to -

“Are you going to order or what?”

Nearly dropping his phone in the process, Mark jumps at the sudden gruff voice and looks up to find himself face to face with a grizzled man. The black apron is all that betrays him as an employee as the unimpressed glare and casual attire do nothing in his favour. ��Uh”, he replies eloquently and vows that he’ll never set foot in this place again if this is how he’s going to get treated.

The old man’s expression melts into friendliness. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Welcome to Café Leo – it’s your first time here, so have a loyalty card, lad.”

Mark accepts the piece of paper without thinking, still thrown off by the bloke’s sudden appearance (how does he move completely silent like that), and at least has the presence of mind to inspect it. Its contents are so absurd that he forgets to ask how the man opposite him knew he hadn’t been to the shop yet. “‘After 10 coffee purchases, you’re eligible for a free wish’”, he mumbles, reading the text printed white on black aloud. “‘This offer is not transferable.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that only you can redeem your reward, not anyone else. Would you like some coffee?”

He blinks at the bearded man, trying to ascertain whether he’s being serious, and is met with an almost bored stare. Weighing his options, the scales are only slightly tipped in favour of staying, but only because he knows Julien has a ‘visitor’ over today and there’s no other place he can study – the library is overrun by frantic procrastinators who left finishing their coursework assigned over the break to the absolute last minute, and Manu is coming back tomorrow. Apart from her and his roommates, there’s no one with whom he’s comfortable enough to invite himself over.

Especially not him. God knows why Mark even considered him for a brief second.

Looks like he’ll have to deal with this awkwardness if he wants to get any work done whatsoever. “Alright then. What do you sell?”

“Coffee”, comes the curt answer.

Mark rubs his eyes in exhaustion. He’s beginning to understand why there’s no other customers here. “Sure. Yes. A coffee, then.”

“That’ll be…” The employee trails off while frowning down at his wristwatch. “…um, about £7.92.”

“For one coffee?”

“It’s free refills, son.”

Oh, so maybe this is an American chain. That would explain quite a bit. Mark considers whether he’s staying long enough to get the most out of his money, but seeing as the bloke doesn’t seem the chattiest type and he’s unlikely to get interrupted, he decides it’s worth it. Still, there’s something he simply can’t let go. “… what do you mean, ‘about’ £7.92?”

“Are you paying cash or card?”

Alright then.

The next ultimatum: if the coffee turns out dogshite, he’s never coming back. He’d rather travel an increased distance to a normal coffee shop than to have to deal with this nonsense. Wordlessly, he sets down a £10 note and scoops the change into his wallet before watching the obviously American guy (and maybe the chain imports all their workers, who knows) pour a cup of the darkest coffee he’s ever seen. He unceremoniously sets it down in front of him and makes no indication of mentioning neither cream nor sugar. He’s lucky Mark prefers his energy supply as-is.

“Ta”, Mark mutters and scurries away, glad to escape that hard stare. To make sure he’s not being scammed, he takes a quick sip of the fragrant liquid and is surprised at how pleasant the taste is. Minimal bitterness, a gentle, almost floral note, and just strong enough to satisfy his craving.

Well, crap.

Looks like he’ll have to come back after all.

~*~

“Did you guys know the old coffee shop closed?”, Mark voices his thoughts into the middle of a medium-sized food war between Manu and Timur involving entirely too many packets of salt.

“The one on campus?”, Manu asks and accidentally elbows Julien in the ribs, causing him to actually look up from his phone for once.

“No, the one halfway to our dorm.”

“I was there last week”, Timur pipes up, making him furrow his brows. A week can’t be enough to refurnish the entire café, let alone switch owners completely. “Is it closed now?”

“There’s a different one instead. It was dead when I went, but the coffee’s good. The bloke serving me was weird.”

“Look at you, stringing multiple sentences together”, Julien chimes in, grinning. “Something novel must’ve happened for you to even bring it up. Was the dude hot?”

“Because that’s the only reason anyone would ever get excited about anything”, says Manu drily. “We can check it out if it’s good, even if the employees suck. Not like we have to socialise with them.”

Mark shrugs and regrets mentioning the café in the first place – it feels somehow personal, whether it’s to do with the odd experience overall or the fact that he ended up staying more than three hours. His productivity was through the roof, the calm atmosphere helped immensely and the thought of his loud friends – as much as he appreciates them – invading his newfound hideout isn’t one he particularly enjoys.

It turned out that the employee wasn’t so bad after all: as soon as Mark considered asking for more coffee, he appeared right by his side and filled his mug again, without bothering him at all. Still, Julien would complain about him and Timur might agree and Manu is likely to judge his impolite manner, and Mark wouldn’t be able to defend him. Even if he doesn’t mind the silent company.

For the moment, he needn’t bother with these thoughts as his friends are wholly occupied with arguing over some internet memes (and Mark remembers vividly how they all had to talk Julien down from nibbling at their laundry detergent pods), so nothing could be further from their minds than sitting down and actually studying for their degrees.

Not that they’re bad students, quite the opposite, they’re just not as… ambitious as Mark. Some have called him obsessed, yes, and he can’t quite refute it, but he prefers to call it ‘determined’. There have been few who are able to keep up with him, which is probably partly the reason why he’s made friends with people from completely different departments. He tends to be a loner in most classes, which suits him just fine.

Well. Most classes.

“I would give my left bollock for you.”

Mark certainly doesn’t appreciate the imagery. He hands over the photocopied sheet to the bloke nearly bouncing in delight before shuffling after his fellow students into the lecture hall. Closely followed, of course. “Make sure to change enough details”, he repeats the reminder, earning a scoff.

“I’ll make it illegible, babe, don’t worry.” James plops down next to him, stretching and taking up too much space. “You’re the only reason I’ll actually get credit for this course.”

Oh, Mark is very aware of this fact. He lets his seat neighbour prattle on as he takes out his materials, lines up his pens, and waits for the lecture to start. If he were pressed to explain how he ended up in this position, with a chatterbox glued to his side too lazy to do any of the coursework, he wouldn’t have a concise answer. Other than his inability to say no.

The problem is that James knows exactly who to befriend. Mark is naturally drawn to the overachievers in each class and carefully selects his group for projects, going by people who do put the time and work in to get a good grade – anything where students are meant to collaborate is 30% actual work and 70% politics. The right people tend to listen to him whenever he knows better, because they’re interested in improving and learning, they tend to go along with his division of tasks, because he distributes them fairly and suited to everyone’s skills, and they tend to work best independently, so they can get it done even without excessive communication.

And James? He follows the same strategy as Mark, except that he’s a leech. He latches onto the teacher’s pets, chooses the easiest tasks, always volunteers for presentations (meaning he’ll just have to regurgitate what his group produced), and bribes his groupmates so they don’t throw him out. Whether it’s snacks or drinks after class, whether it’s attention and compliments, or playing matchmaker: he knows how to make himself useful in all aspects other than his studies.

He’s a clown. He makes everyone laugh and worms his way into their hearts so they would feel bad about calling him out. Not having to do any work is his reward for asking questions everyone’s thinking but doesn’t dare ask for fear of looking stupid in front of the prof.

Obviously, James has latched onto him ever since they crossed paths in chem last semester, and Mark considered dropping the current class when he found out that he was in it as well. Even worse, James began asking him for homework, giving excuses like having had no time, not being able to write it down concisely, and so on – and though Mark initially refused, classmates approached him and gently nudged him towards sharing his results with James. Just to be nice. Just to help him. He’s such a good guy after all.

So Mark’s homework gets copied and passed along. And James’ fondness of him only grows.

During the long, meaningless rant interspersed with an impressive amount of curse words, he perks up at a quiet: “Wait, this one doesn’t make any sense.”

His pride won’t let him ignore it. “Which one?”

James points at one of Mark’s answers, a complicated equation. “Shouldn’t that be on top?”

“The denominator?”

An uncertain glance. He points again. “This.”

“You mean the bottom fraction? That’s the denominator, yes. And it is where it should be.”

James frowns, indubitably not content with the reply but possibly unsure how to voice his dissatisfaction.

“Trust me, it’s correct. Just copy it.”

“But I want to understand it.”

Fat chance. No way did he get any of the previous homework without having engaged with the subject matter at all, so it’s impossible for him to work it out, even if Mark explained it. Which he doesn’t want to. Because he figures it’d be like explaining string theory to a brick wall. He’s saved by the prof’s entry, knowing James at least has the decency to shut up during class, and hopes he can simply slip away afterwards.

It turns out, however, James is fully aware of his biggest weakness. “Do you have a bit of time after? You think you can explain it to me? Please?”

Yikes.

Not only is Mark burning to show him how wrong he is, he’s also entirely unable to refuse a plea for help. And there’s no doubt James knows this. He can’t keep getting away with it, he’s exploiting Mark enough as it is without offering much – if anything – in return, plus it’s obvious the endeavour is futile and doomed from the start. And this is disregarding the possibility of James suggesting more meetings in the future. So, like the reasonable adult he is, Mark replies: “Sure.”

And has never wanted to kick himself more.

If this bloke really is the only employee they have, it’s no wonder the place is dead yet again. They stare at each other, unblinking, and seem equally dismayed about each other’s presence. “Hi”, says Mark after a few seconds of tense silence.

The old man is wearing the same clothes as last time, apron and jeans – even his disinterested expression hasn’t changed. “I’m Sam”, he offers completely out of the blue, surprising Mark with how unexpected the introduction is. “I figured you shouldn’t have to keep calling me ‘this bloke’ in your head.”

“… Mark”, he responds hesitantly.

“Is that a threat?” Sam barks out a brief, mirthless laugh. “I know. You wrote it on your loyalty card.”

He most certainly did not, but only because the card is solid black with white text. “Look, I’m just here to buy coffee.”

“You brought a friend.” Sam indicates James who already sat down by a window and is absorbed in his phone for the time being – and for all his faults, Mark has to admit that at least his (limited) attention is always on the person he’s talking to; he’s never seen his fellow student even checking for messages during a conversation.

“Not really”, he says nonetheless and is reasonably sure they’re out of earshot. “We just have chem together.”

“You have chemistry, hm?”

He wonders if it’s possible to set someone on fire with a hard look alone. “Just sell me the bloody coffee.”

“For the both of you?” Sam turns around and studies the clock on the wall behind him, whispering to himself for a few seconds before announcing: “That’ll be roughly £15.84.”

“Fine.” He holds out a card, scowling when Sam makes no move to take it.

“No complaint?”

“Is it gonna be cheaper if I do? Besides, he’s paying. So I don’t care.”

“Oh. Then it’ll be £22.43.”

“Why is it -” As quickly as his annoyance spikes, it ebbs again. It’s obvious there’s no logic behind all this nonsense, yet he still tries: “If it’s cheaper for me, I’ll pay and get the money back from him.”

“That’s illegal. You’ve already told me he’s paying.”

“I’m not trying to buy liquor, why would it -” Deep breaths. He already told James about how good the coffee is, and if they go anywhere else, someone else might see them. He’s strongly incentivised to stay. “Fine. Here.”

Sam runs the card and, as last time, pours two very unimpressive mugs before, to Mark’s horror, reaching into the display case and pulling out two slices of cakes on their own respective plates. The chocolate one is drooping and threatening to fall over if anyone looked at it wrong, and the sponge cake seems suspiciously wet. There’s no telling how long they’ve been sitting there. “It’s on the house”, Sam says, almost begrudgingly, as if he was the inconvenienced one.

Mark considers asking for forks or napkins but decides that the shorter their interaction, the healthier his sanity. “Ta, mate. Do you need my loyalty card?”

“No need.”

Fair enough, though he’s not sure what the point of it is, then. He carries the coffees and cakes over in two trips and wonders how he’ll get rid of the sickly-looking bakeware without Sam noticing. When James eventually tries his piece and doesn’t keel over immediately though, Mark gives his own a try.

It’s the best chocolate cake he’s ever had. And he’s never been madder in his life.

~*~

At some point, it turns into stubbornness. There’s a few mannerisms, the odd hobby and some of his preferences which started out as either ironic, as guilty pleasures or as things he actively disliked, but the more he engaged, the more he developed the attitude of: you know what? This is mine and I don’t care what anyone says about it.

He’s starting to adopt Leo Coffee. The awkward vibe about it, the indecipherable employee, the delicious food and drinks – it holds its own charm in a way, and he’s stopped wondering about being the only patron. It’s perfect for studying or unwinding, and does wonders for his stressed soul. He’s been returning regularly now, about once a week, and even brought James with him a second time to argue about yet another homework he criticised. The atmosphere renders Mark calmer, more patient, and so he endured the other man’s presence for much longer than he would’ve thought possible. They stayed for almost three hours the first time, even longer the second.

Just to make sure he’s not being a nuisance, he tried to check the coffee shop’s opening hours and wasn’t even sure what he expected to find. They’re listed nowhere, of course, and Sam switched topics the instant he brought it up.

So now the only people he has to drag in here are his friends, who have somehow evaded his efforts so far – but not today. Timur and Julien promised to come even though Manu has to go to some recital or other, meaning she’s excused. For now.

Eyes idly following pedestrians outside, he’s resting his chin in his palm and waiting. Being the only punctual one has always meant boredom, so he’s lucky his mind is imaginative enough to keep him occupied in the meantime. His train of thought meanders through all the topics occupying his brain recently, how the new guy Julien is seeing is basically moving into their apartment, how Timur keeps hanging around the wrong crowd, how unfair it is that Manu aces all her courses with so little effort, how he happened to run into James during his break today and almost suggested spending it together -

His phone buzzes, interrupting his aimless daydreaming and prompting him to check the colourful screen.

I got ambushed, writes Julien and it’s unclear whether he’s being cryptic on purpose. Mark sends a question mark and has to wait a minute or two for the explanation: Sudden date night, looks like Netflix & chill boys ;) sry for ditching you but the shop isn’t gonna go anywhere right?

An eye roll later, Mark responds with a simple TMI.

I don’t think I’ll make it either, adds Timur, a friend wants to yarn bomb the stature by City Hall and they need me as lookout.

This one gets points for creativity at least. He sighs and reassures them with a quick sure, no problem before commending himself for not going home first to drop his bag off. Now he can just study instead. Woohoo.

Another brief vibration, this notification from a completely different group chat, one Mark apparently forgot to leave once the project was done: @Mark: are there carrots in carrot cake?

The number is translated to ‘GirthControl’, so there’s just one person this could be. He stares at his screen. Is that a trick question? Yes, he feels confident enough to affirm to James.

Ah okay. Thanks babe.

This is when it occurs to him: Wait, why did you only ask me?

Silence. Whatever quest James is currently on, it apparently required Mark’s input and Mark’s input only.

He can’t help but laugh at the absurdity and suddenly feels a lot less abandoned. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter whether his friends don’t rank him at the top of their priority list as long as he’s on it somewhere. And knowing that he’s left a lasting impression on James beyond being the lad who supplies him with homework is oddly reassuring.

When he approaches the counter, Sam once again materialising out of nowhere (at least that’s what it feels like – he’s always there when Mark needs him and never at any other time), he’s decided to not get weirded out by anything today. “A coffee”, he orders confidently and inspects the haphazardly thrown together bagels featured prominently in the infamous display case. “And a bagel.” He doesn’t bother specifying, Sam will choose for him anyway.

After peering at the digital alarm clock on the counter, Sam announces the approximate value of the aforementioned items and then squints at him. “Weren’t you going to meet with somebody?”

Mark half-shrugs. “Kinda. They’re busy though.”

“Mind if I join you?” He must notice Mark’s surprise because he adds: “It’s your ninth time here. Would be a shame if we didn’t get to talk before you’ve filled up your loyalty card, don’t you think?”

“Alright”, he agrees and waits until Sam has poured himself a mug as well before they sit down at Mark’s usual table – tucked away in a corner but close enough to the windows to be able to do people-watching if his eyes need a rest from staring at textbooks or screens all day long. It’s the first time he examines the man opposite him more closely: the distinguished features, greying beard, wild mane of hair. He looks too… important to be working in a coffee shop, like he was destined for greatness. Mark can’t picture him angry even if he exudes a bitter, cynical aura which he’s likely to hide behind sarcasm.

“How did you end up here?”, he wants to know, genuinely curious.

“Good question.” Sam takes a few sips of his excellent coffee as he ponders how to reply. “It’s a temporary thing, that’s for sure.” He leaves it at that. “What do you study?”

Mark eyes the disorganised heap of books keeping his bagel company and sighs. “At this point, I don’t even know anymore.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It is”, he emphasises. “I love studying.”

“Where’s the problem then?”

There is none, he wants to say yet his mouth refuses to comply. He stares into the dark liquid, running his thumb over even porcelain and then decides to sod it – he asked, right? And somehow, it’s always easier to unload on a complete stranger. “I feel like it’s all I’m doing.”

“You keep others at a distance on purpose.” He nods, even though it wasn’t a question. “So don’t be surprised if they do the same.”

“I’m not.” The warmth seeps into his palms as he wraps his hands around the mug, providing as much comfort as Sam’s gentle tone. “I just want it to be different.”

“Make an effort. It’s never to late to change. I’m sure your friends will appreciate it. Put some trust in them, they’re your friends for a reason.” He nods again, lost in thought. “Have you figured out what you’re going to wish for next time?”

He scoffs, amused. There isn’t a single thing he can imagine himself wanting from the old man before him, so he’s unlikely to wish for anything at all. “No. Not yet.”

“Well, think about it. I believe in you, son.” With that, Sam downs the last of his own coffee and gets up, ready to walk back behind the counter and only stops when Mark calls his name.

“Is there someone you care about?”

It’s the first time he sees Sam smile. “Yes. There were two, but I lost one – so I keep the other one twice as close without trying to be suffocating. It’s hard. But remember, Mark, it’s never too late to tell the people in your life how you really feel.” And then he’s gone, disappeared into the back, leaving behind a faint nostalgia tinted with hope.

There’s no challenge from which Mark has shied away in his life, and this one isn’t going to be his first.

~*~

The word fuck on his lips, Mark bursts into the café like a panicked chicken. He’s juggling two bags and his phone, his frantic typing only interrupted by the need to breathe now and then, and nearly drops it when he slams his book bag to the ground at the counter. “Sorry, one sec”, he addresses an unimpressed-looking Sam as he dials a number and curses once more when it’s not immediately picked up. “Can I get a coffee to go?”, he asks, out of breath, as the dial tone beeps in his ear.

“I don’t serve people who are on the phone”, Sam replies, as calm as ever.

Mark mentally increases the number of people who’d be dead if his looks could kill by one. “This is the worst thing to ever happen to me”, he says gravely and hangs up after thirty seconds have passed. “I’m gonna fail this class.”

“An event without precedence, I assume?”

“You have no bloody idea. But yes, a coffee please, I need to go back to the library and get an entire semester’s worth of material because I’m too fucking dumb to read a syllabus correctly. This has never happened to me, I have one day to write this assignment and I’m lacking so much -”

“Can you give me the time?”, Sam interrupts him nonchalantly and stares at the screen of Mark’s phone as he holds it up for him to read. “Thanks. Let’s say £2.63.”

“And I can’t study at home because Timur has his friends over, and Manu is in a panic herself, and I know the library is going to be overrun by people who treat the study rooms like their social media accounts by loudly oversharing all the time, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to do this. Maybe I’ll just accept fate and fail. No clue how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

“Your loyalty card.”

Distracted, Mark fishes it out of his wallet and puts it on the counter. “And the other people in chem aren’t answering or are no help at all, I don’t get it, I’ve done group projects with them and still they don’t have the courtesy to help me out in this. It was a genuine mistake, as stupid as it is, and I’m just -”

“You need to write it down.”

He’s briefly interrupted in his rant to frown at the black paper card. “Write what?”

“Your wish.”

“But you won’t be able to read it. I only have black or blue pens.”

“Doesn’t matter. Write it down.”

With an irritated sigh, Mark takes out a pen and thinks for a second, the majority of his attention elsewhere still. Eventually, he scribbles someone who cares, not that it’d be legible in any way, and hands it to Sam. “That’s it? I’m not sure this reward system is going to pay off in the long term, you know.”

Sam holds the card up to the light as if he was inspecting a bank note and nods, apparently satisfied. “You’re all set. Good luck.”

“Ta, I’m gonna need it.” Mark shoves all his belongings in various pockets, hoping he’ll remember where he put them, and grabs the to-go cup. And then, without so much as a goodbye, he storms back out, steeling himself for an all-nighter certain to mess up sleep schedule for days, if not weeks.

He ascribes it to his flustered state that he doesn’t look up as he exits the coffee shop, and promptly runs into someone, collides with what feels like a solid wall. His coffee gets squished and sloshes over, soaking the front of his clothes – fortunately, it’s not hot at all, more like lukewarm which is odd in and of itself. He swears again, yanking his phone out of his pocket before it gets wet also and it’s only due to another hand grabbing the device that it doesn’t plummet to the ground straightaway.

“Oh bollocks, I’m so sorry”, says the wall he ran into which turns out to be none other than James. Of all people. “Are you alright? Is it hot?”

“No, no, I’m fine”, Mark presses through clenched teeth, the stress slowly overwhelming him. “But now I have to go home and change before I can start on this stupid fucking -”

“Babe. Calm down. What’s wrong?”

He takes a deep breath and ignores the quickly cooling wet patches on his clothes for the moment. “I still have to do the report. I didn’t realise we were meant to -”

“Oh, you haven’t done it? At all?”

“No! No, I didn’t, and everyone else is partnered up so I can’t just join someone else, so I’ll have to -”

“I’m not paired up.”

“Sure, once I’m done I’ll put your name on there, whatever, but that doesn’t -”

“Babe. Mark. Listen to me.” James waves in front of his face with a slight grin. “I did it. It’s almost done. I’ll put down that we did it together and you’re good.”

He stares at James, mouth open, for several unflattering seconds. “Wait – you… how?”

“I can show you, but it’s at my place. My roommate is around your height, he can lend you some clothes. Let’s go.”

And yet again, Mark finds himself unable to refuse. He drinks what’s left of his coffee in one go (and it really is tepid, he must’ve gotten really lucky), tosses the cup in the nearest bin and leaves Leo Coffee behind without a single glance back.

James’ flat looks exactly like Mark would’ve imagined it, only louder. Double bass and epic vocals are permeating every room, and all available horizontal surfaces are littered with stuff. The walls are plastered with posters, some funny, some pretty, some morbid, and it reeks of weed.

A small part of Mark feels right at home, oddly enough.

“Turn the fucking music down!”, James yells at the top of his lungs, throwing him an apologetic look, clearly uncomfortable with the state of it all and ignorant as to Mark’s growing amusement.

Somewhere, a door opens and the shrill guitars become clearer. “Whot?”, someone replies just as loudly.

“Exactly!”, is James’ deafening reply, and a few seconds later, the melodies decrease to a reasonable level. Another bloke joins them, tall and well-built with an unkempt beard and a band shirt as well as no socks.

“Who’s that? Is he allowed to be here?”, asks James’ roommate and regards Mark with suspicion.

“That was Sabaton, wasn’t it?”, Mark inquires back. “Primo Victoria?”

The dude’s entire face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, a connoisseur. He can stay, James, I like him already.”

And while the two of them exchange more words, Mark goes exploring. He ends up in what must be James’ room which is covered in paper, be it books or hand-written notes, and most of it seems related to chemistry in some way. Curious, Mark looks around until he finds a spiral-bound notepad titled with the name of the course they’re sharing this semester. Contrary to his expectations, it’s far from empty – not only does it contain copious lecture notes, it also features every assignment they’d been given since the start of the course.

Solved differently from Mark’s own answers.

Confused, he checks more closely and finds a recurring pattern: equations that are struck-through, calculations lacking several steps in between which wouldn’t be accepted by the prof this way, and very little text. It looks like the writings of someone who certainly understands the material but simply has a hard time putting his thoughts in order, putting his ideas into neat writing.

He’s been immersed for several minutes when James finally joins him, and when he does, Mark holds up his notes and greets him with a simple: “What the fuck?”

James doesn’t seem to realise where Mark’s problem lies and shrugs. “Yeah, I’m a hopeless case, I know.”

“No. No, you’re really not. This is – look here, if you just shift this around, you end up with the correct result. You’re like 95% of the way there, you just didn’t finish it.”

“Oh.” James blinks at him. “I guess. It’s kinda like that with the report. I was hoping you could help me write the conclusion, I’ve got the rest, but -”

“Sure. Yes.” Mark’s agreeableness seems to astonish his host. “That’ll take an hour, maybe two. And I won’t have to pull an all-nighter. James, you have no idea how much you saved me.”

And James, bless his soul, is blushing. “Well. No problem. I owe you anyway. Right?” He suddenly remembers he’s holding spare clothing and vaguely gestures in Mark’s direction. “You, uh, you can change in the bathroom. Don’t mind the cat, she just loves staring at naked people. Dom found out the hard way.”

Twenty minutes later, Mark is reading through James’ report with a ball of fur purring on his lap, faint metal playing in the background. There’s a lot of grammar and spelling to be fixed, as well as phrasing, but content-wise, it’s near flawless. He’s smiling to himself, enjoying the way James turns almost bashful whenever he compliments his work, and remembers Sam’s words from the second-to-last time he visited the café: it’s never too late.

He’s definitely treating James to dinner after he’s saved his arse like this.

The next time Mark passes by that familiar spot, the next time Mark develops a craving for caffeine and some peace and quiet, the next time he plans to go to Leo Coffee, all he finds is the same coffee shop which has been here for years already, the afternoon crowd populating the tables and several diligent employees taking care of the customers.

Somehow, Mark isn’t the least bit surprised.

#rainbow six siege #smoke #mute #smoke/mute #zero #fanfic #oneshot #I combined a few things I know you like and hopefully it's the same with the result #I want to remind you that there is no need to retaliate #but also that'd mean I've won this war

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