#i WILL write that IF ITS THE LAST THING I DO

[thankskenpenders]

Thoughts on two specific areas of the writing in Sonic X Shadow Generations

The best new 3D Sonic game in over a decade (or even two, depending on who you ask) dropped late last year. And I didn't write anything about it! Sometimes life happens. Well, I've finally sat down to finish Shadow Generations, and by now everyone has already been singing its praises for three months. This is the rare instance where the entire Sonic fandom, and even mainstream reviewers, are in agreement on something. The level design is the best it's been in a long, long time and the cool factor is off the charts, embracing Sonic's peak cringe era in an incredibly confident way. It's great. If you're even reading this post, you probably don't need me to tell you that. So I won't!

No, what I'm really interested in here is the writing. Because this is me we're talking about. But I actually don't want to talk about the main narrative of Shadow Generations, which is really solid little story about Black Doom trying to mold Shadow into his perfect soldier. No, I'd like to zero in on two other aspects of the writing here: the revisions made to Sonic Generations, and Gerald Robotnik's unlockable journal.

The updated Sonic Generations script

The new package mostly presents Sonic Generations how you remember it. There are some tweaks, but it's not a major overhaul. Graphically, I don't think the game has been touched much, if at all. I certainly can't notice any difference without a side-by-side comparison, despite playing it on a PS5. The most notable update is that the game's script has been rewritten by Ian Flynn.

Naturally, this caught my attention. Generations always had a nothingburger story, so with Ian rewriting Pontac and Graff's lame dialogue there was nowhere to go but up. (I don't like to pin the blame for those games' stories entirely on them, as a ton of it was dictated to them by Sonic Team, but, well, I don't think they're very good dialogue writers.) But it's less a complete rewrite and more like Ian was brought on as a script doctor for some minor touch ups here and there. Many lines of dialogue are completely identical to how they were originally written in 2011, and many others only have slight wording changes. Ian was clearly not allowed to request additional scenes or extend the ones that already existed. He has to match the original beat for beat so that they can reuse 99% of the cutscene animations. Don't expect it to be a whole new experience compared to the original.

Still, I think the new script is an improvement, albeit a minor one. Various things have been tweaked to maintain characterization consistency. Cream calls Sonic "Mr. Sonic" instead of just "Sonic." Instead of calling Sonic "buddy," Rouge uses the pet name "Blue," like she tends to do in things like the IDW comics. Espio doesn't have to remind you in the dialogue that he's a ninja, and he no longer has a line making it sound like he has some kind of soul reading power. I also like that Modern Sonic now actually has responses to what his friends say when he rescues them, rather than being silent like Classic Sonic. They won't blow you away, but they make Sonic feel a little more engaged with everything.

In general, the altered dialogue just seems tighter to me, and some of the more childish or trite wording of Pontac and Graff's script has been altered. Here, let's actually make a direct comparison, just because this stuff is interesting to me as a writer. Here's a couple lines from after the Egg Dragoon fight late in the game, in the original script:

Modern Eggman: Ooooh... I can't believe this! I was supposed to beat you this time. Modern Sonic: Aw, I'm sorry! I didn't get that memo. I beat you every time! [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat this guy every time. It's like it's our job or something!

This is a simple exchange. Eggman is mad that he lost. Sonic is unflappably confident because he always beats Eggman, and he explains this to his younger self. But the wording here isn't particularly good. Eggman's simple and direct wording makes him come off like a little kid who's mad because his older brother beat him at Mario Kart, rather than a mad scientist who just had his plans foiled. It's making light of the situation.

And I've never liked Sonic saying "It's like it's our job or something!" That doesn't feel like a thing Sonic would say, it feels like a thing an outside observer would say about Sonic. This is a frequent problem with so-called "MCU dialogue," where quips meant to echo the commentary of a casual, somewhat disinterested audience are inserted into the story itself so that the writers can be like "See? We get it. We're genre-savvy, too!" It also just reminds me of bad Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric lines like "Rings! It's like they're made for me!"

And then here's Ian's rewrite:

Modern Eggman: I recalibrated everything! This was supposed to be my time! Modern Sonic: Oh, please, keep dreamin', Egg-head. I beat you every time. [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat him every time. Our score card's flawless.

Eggman's still mad about his defeat, but the line "I recalibrated everything!" makes it more specific. He put all this work into the engineering side of his latest scheme and got tunnel vision, thinking if he got his creations just right there'd be no way he could lose. "This was supposed to be my time!" also turns it into a time travel pun, which is a bonus. He's still pitching a fit over losing, but it feels more like Eggman pitching a fit, rather than sounding childish.

And then instead of saying that beating Eggman is "like his job or something," Sonic says he's got a flawless score card against Eggman. He doesn't take Eggman seriously as a threat—at least, not to his face. He acts like it's all a game. But he conveys this in a way that feels truer to the character, rather than feeling like the words of a real world observer poking fun at the tropes of the Sonic series.

Is this amazing, A+ dialogue that blows me away? No. Again, it's not a completely different scene from the one we already had. Ian had to fit the beats of what was already there. He couldn't go all out and write an all new story confirming his longstanding headcanon that the Time Eater is a remnant of Solaris or whatever. But the wording here makes the existing story land a little better and feel truer to the characters in subtle ways.

But to me, the main change is that the Sonics and Tailses seem to have a more solid understanding of what's going on with the timeline and the Time Eater, compared to how idiotic they sometimes seemed in the original game. Which is good! No more standing outside Green Hill and wondering why it seems so familiar. Thank god. As part of this, yes, there are a few more references to past games in the dialogue, like Sonic briefly being confused about the fact that they're time traveling without the Time Stones, or South Island and Westside Island being acknowledged as the normal locations of Green Hill and Chemical Plant. Yes, ha ha, insert joke about how Ian loves references here. Look, it's Sonic fucking Generations. It's a game built entirely out of nostalgic references. Just own it! And, again, in this instance Sonic and Tails come off as less stupid when they make it clear that they do, in fact, remember their adventures from presumably less than a year ago in-universe.

Eggman, too, seems to have a better understanding of the powers he's toying with. Where in the original vesion his focus was simply on going back in time to undo his previous defeats and he seemed kind of oblivious to how much the Time Eater was actually fucking up the universe, here Eggman says he wants to use the Time Eater to give himself complete control over the entire timeline. Eggman also makes way fewer references to his own failures and shortcomings. Of course he won't admit that Sonic has defeated him time and time again. To him, he's never truly lost—Sonic just keeps delaying the inevitable total victory for the Eggman Empire.

So, yes. The new Sonic Generations script is better. It won't blow anyone away, but it's better than it was. It's been elevated from "kinda lame" to "fine." No, if you really wanna see Ian flex his ability to breathe new life into old Sonic stories, look no further than...

Gerald Robotnik's Journal

Hoo boy.

The story of what happened aboard the ARK has always been... a bit confusing, to say the least. Fans with encyclopedic knowledge of the script for every route of Shadow '05 may disagree, but it's the truth. We've had all the pieces to understand the story for a long time now, but that info was given to us out of order by a pair of unreliable narrators—Gerald, who became a vengeful lunatic shortly before his death, and Shadow, who was subjected to multiple rounds of amnesia and altered memories. Some of the ambiguity left by Sonic Adventure 2 was cleared up in Shadow '05, but that game also retconned in a bunch of new elements to Shadow's backstory (aliens!) that lead to further confusion. Not to mention the fact that that game had multiple routes and only revealed the truth about Shadow if you sat on the ultimate final boss battle for WAY longer than the fight would normally last. Or the fact that Sonic X made its own tweaks in its telling of the story. Or the fact that none of these things ever had the best English translations. I can't blame anyone who hasn't played those games in two decades for not remembering the truth about these characters and getting some details mixed up.

What we needed was something to piece together all of the info we have into one coherent backstory, told in chronological order. And thanks to Shadow Generations, we have that, in the form of an official journal tying together what we knew from Sonic Adventure 2, Shadow '05, and Sonic Battle into the tragic tale of Gerald's rise and fall.

Ian Flynn was the perfect man for the job here as the guy who started his career by tidying up the mess that was the first 159 issues if Archie Sonic. This is what he excels at: taking disparate bits of weird Sonic lore from multiple different sources, boiling them down to their most interesting elements, and connecting it together in a way that will make the audience see the dramatic potential he's always known was there. Rather than feeling like a cynical exercise in franchise building, going back and explaining things that never needed explaining so that people can add more bullet points to the wiki, he puts a new spin on things that retroactively enriches those past stories. The story here means something to the characters involved and gives us a better understanding of them as people, rather than as plot devices to motivate Shadow.

(And, of course, Ian didn't do this journal alone. He wrote the story, but I also have to give a huge shout out to Evan Stanley, who made the final product. All of her handwritten journal entries, sketches, and "photos" included throughout. The physical damage done to the journal over the course of 50 tumultuous years, passing from Gerald to Eggman to a certain special someone at GUN. The way Gerald's handwriting gets less and less legible as his mental state declines. So much love was put into what could have been a mere text dump in a menu, and it really elevates it to the next level. Congrats on officially getting hired by Sega, Evan, you've sure as hell earned it!)

The main idea the journal conveys is that Gerald was under a lot of pressure from a lot of different parties—GUN, the President, his colleagues aboard the ARK, Black Doom, even his own family—and boy did it get to him. The known incidents aboard the ARK mentioned in previous games are put together here to form a story where everything slowly spirals out of control as Gerald keeps compromising his morals to further his research, thinking he'll eventually find some way out of all this because he's a genius. I won't recap that whole story here (if you haven't already played the game and read the journal entries, I would highly recommend at least reading it on the Sonic wiki), but I'd like to highlight my favorite elements of the story, as Ian tells it here.

1) The Eclipse Cannon

Here's something that never quite made sense in Sonic Adventure 2: why does the ARK have a laser that can blow up the Earth built into it? It was supposed to be a peaceful research colony. Sure, Gerald went crazy and swore revenge on the Earth, but, like... when did he have an opportunity to go back up to the ARK and modify it? Did he have someone else do it? How? The ARK was raided by GUN and shut down! And then they arrested him, held him in prison for an unclear period of time, and executed him by firing squad when he was no longer useful! It doesn't add up. Shadow 'the Hedgehog '05 would give its own answer by introducing the Black Arms and saying that the Eclipse Cannon was always supposed to be a secret trump card against the Black Comet. But, like... we know that's kind of a bullshit answer, right? You don't need enough power to blow up a whole planet just to destroy a comet.

Well, the new journal retains what we already knew, but it paints a much more complete picture.

See, long before Gerald ever made a Faustian bargain with Black Doom, he had already made one with an even greater evil: the military. GUN gave Gerald much of the funding for the ARK, Gerald's personal utopian research station in space, but it didn't take long for GUN to start pressuring him to design them weapons. Gerald tried to get GUN off his back by personally contacting the President of the United Federation, and the President gave him an alternative: how about, instead, you just use your genius brain to figure out the secret to immortality for us, so our soldiers can be immortal? Gerald was initially sickened by the notion and found it completely absurd, like chasing a shadow... but given no other option, the sarcastically named Project Shadow soon began in earnest. (Maria would later put a more positive spin on the name after Shadow's awakening, pointing out that a Shadow can show us the direction of the light, like she says in the game itself.)

Of course, this search for the ultimate life form didn't go very well, and without any results on that front GUN kept hounding him for weapons. Gerald would throw them a bone here and there to get them off his back. His research on Chaos resulted in the Artifical Chaos prototypes, which he worried would be used for warfare but could at least theoretically be used for search and rescue missions in floods, in his mind. But that wasn't enough. So he gave them Chaos Drives to power their mechs. And that still wasn't enough. He's got Emerl. He'll give them Emerl. They're not impressed by Emerl. They'll shut the whole ARK down if Gerald doesn't give them something big.

Fine! GUN wants something big? Gerald builds a huge fucking laser cannon into the ARK. However, as a middle finger to GUN, Gerald makes it so powerful that it would destroy the Earth if it was ever fired at any target on its surface. In other words, GUN now has their ultimate weapon of mass destruction, fulfilling his contract, but they can never actually use it. Oh, the delicious irony. (And also Shadow will blow up the Black Comet with it in 50 years yada yada yada.) Is this perhaps extremely shortsighted and naive of Gerald, to believe that such a weapon would never actually be used just because of the risk? Of course. But hey, that's Gerald for you. And I love this as an answer.

(Also, this, uh, kinda echoes something from real life! Remember the bit in Oppenheimer where he says all nuclear war will become unthinkable, and Edward Teller responds "until somebody builds a bigger bomb"? Yeah, Teller went on to conceptualize a superweapon codenamed Project Sundial that would have been able to kill all life on the planet, as the ultimate deterrent for war. This was never made for obvious reasons, but hey, there's a basis for this sort of thinking outside of heightened sci-fi! There's a whole Kurzgesagt video about this if you're interested.)

2) The Biolizard

The Biolizard is, of course, brought up as the initial failed prototype of the ultimate life form, from before Gerald met Black Doom. We don't really learn all that much about it that we didn't already know, but I just love the way it's framed in the story.

As you can see above, we actually get to see a picture of Maria holding up the cute little salamander that would end up mutating into the Biolizard through Gerald's experiments. (Researchers want to figure out how to replicate salamanders' regenerative abilities for humans in real life, too, so this was a natural starting point for the project.) And then, after it grows to a monstrous size and goes out of control, Gerald has to lock it away in an unused sector of the ARK. He needs to keep the poor thing alive for his research into harnessing Chaos Energy, building life support systems directly into it, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Maria what happened. So it just becomes this first dark secret weighing on his conscience. The Biolizard becomes Gerald's Tell-Tale Heart beating beneath the floorboards of the ARK. I love that.

3) Lost Impact was the breaking point for the ARK

Remember the level Lost Impact in Shadow '05? The flashback level on the hero path where Shadow is running around fighting Artificial Chaos enemies on the ARK 50 years ago? Yeah, that wasn't just a random incident. That was important, as we now know due to its placement on the timeline.

See, Emerl's rampage aboard the ARK that was chronicled in Sonic Battle and Dark Beginnings set off a domino effect. Emerl riled up the Artificial Chaos, causing Gerald to lose control of them. They became violent, and so Shadow had to stop them, as depicted in Lost Impact. The thing is, that incident sent an SOS signal to GUN telling them that shit was going down on the ARK. Gerald didsn't fully understand the trouble he was in and assumed that he'd simply be reprimanded by the higher ups, or maybe face legal action. But, well... the next time he heard from GUN, armed troopers were raiding the ARK.

So Lost Impact was the straw that broke the camel's back. I just really like that detail.

4) Maria

And, of course, there's Maria herself. Maria has often been more of a symbol than a character, this perfect embodiment of everything that's good and pure in this world who gets killed to motivate Shadow and Gerald's revenge plots. But I really like the wrinkles this journal adds to her and Gerald's story, and their relationship. This is the most fleshed out they've ever felt.

For one, the journal leans into the idea of Maria's intellectual potential. The rest of the Robotnik family is all geniuses, after all, and she was proving to be a really bright kid. She excelled in her studies on the ARK, and she even helped design Shadow's jet skates and inhibitor rings. When Maria died, the world didn't just lose a symbolic personification of purity. She genuinely could have been a hugely influential scientist who did so much good for the world. That's what Gerald wanted for her. But we'll never know, because GUN killed her.

Speaking of her family, their presence isn't just mentioned for the sake of fleshing out the Robotnik family tree. It's mentioned that as Gerald struggled to find a cure for Maria's illness through his genetic research, he faced mounting pressure from his family. They didn't want Maria to be up on the ARK forever. They wanted Gerald to hurry up and find a damn cure, or otherwise just send her back home to Earth so she could be with her family again. She'd been up on the ARK for so long that Gerald's coworkers started thinking that she had been born up there. Eventually she gains a baby sister on Earth who she's never met. A rift forms between Gerald's two sons, and he's unable to really deal with it because he's so consumed by his work. There's this sense that the family is falling apart, and that everyone is dreading the possibility that Gerald will never find a cure and that Maria will just spend her final years up in space and die far away from her family, because Gerald just couldn't let go. If that happens, it'll break the whole family. But he can't stop now. So he just keeps working. Curing Maria is the only way to win his family back, in his eyes. It can't all be for nothing.

But my favorite detail regarding Maria is this one paragraph:

Maria is growing into a lovely young woman. It breaks my heart that someone as bright and energetic as her is diminished by disease. There are no visible effects, and I've caught my fellow researchers muttering to each other, doubting her illness. It is infuriating. I find all my reason and restraint vanishes when she's slighted.

This is SUCH a great addition to the story! It's always been true that Maria doesn't really seem all that ill, just looking at her in cutscenes. With this one little comment, Ian flips that issue on its head and turns it into a story about invisible disability. She doesn't act like she's in chronic pain, so she must not be, everyone thinks. And this really, really gets to Gerald, as does the pressure from his family. He's dedicating his whole LIFE to saving her, and they think she's faking it?! It's such a small addition, never referenced elsewhere in the journal, but it adds so much flavor to the story, as does the implied family drama. It grounds Gerald and Maria and makes them feel more like real human beings, rather than being pure archetypes. It's just enough info to let my imagination run wild filling in the blanks.

You also get the feeling that Maria being such a walking ray of sunshine was the only real source of joy Gerald had left in his life before Shadow was awakened, and the only thing keeping him from snapping under pressure sooner. All this stuff just keeps piling on, everything's spiraling out of control, but at least Maria is keeping her chin up, right? It makes so much sense that losing her would make him go off the deep end when it's framed like this.

It's just... man, I never thought I'd care so much about Gerald and Maria. But that's the Ian Flynn touch. After years of less than stellar Sonic writing that seemed to be embarrassed of itself, I'm so happy to have new games coming out that fully embrace the history of the series like this, making its world feel so rich and real instead of just serving as an excuse for a string of platforming levels. I don't even like Shadow '05, but I'll be damned if Ian and the rest of Sonic Team didn't make something amazing by "yes, and"-ing Shadow's cringe past here. Sonic has truly reached levels of "we're so back" never thought possible.

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she ignored my letter!

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James writes you a love letter and hides it into your luggage carrying your clothes, not knowing he put it in a pocket you never open.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever)

a/n: heyyy... i had sm fun writing this, can't wait to write the rest of this bc i literally LOVE anne with an e and this is inspired by it ofc!!!! anyways, im barely writing now..smh, its cause im reading manacled and its literally heart breaking... im also editing on ae and its so hard so im slowly learning😭 but i want to finish this mini series by next week!!

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

James had liked you for a while now. He wasn’t quite sure when it started—maybe it was the way you laughed at his jokes, always the loudest in the room. Or perhaps it was when he’d catch you staring at him, your gaze lingering just a bit too long, thinking he was too distracted to notice.

With the Christmas holidays fast approaching, James knew he had to make a move. He had to let you know how he felt. If you didn’t feel the same, maybe the time apart over the holiday would make it less awkward. But he couldn’t let another term slip by in silence.

Knowing your love for all things old-fashioned, James decided there was no better way to confess his feelings than through a handwritten letter. It felt personal, genuine—something you’d appreciate. But writing it turned out to be harder than he imagined.

He’d written and discarded at least a dozen drafts, each one crumpled and tossed aside in frustration. Finally, after half an hour of agonizing over the perfect words, he settled on this version. It was short, straightforward, and sincere:

Dear, (Y/N)

I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot. I’ve tried a hundred times, and every single attempt has been worse than the last. So here’s the truth—I’m hopelessly in love with you.

You’ve probably guessed I’m not great at being subtle. But what I’ve never been able to say outright is how much you mean to me. The way you laugh, the way your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating—Merlin, you make it impossible to focus on anything else. I want you to know that you’ve made me braver, happier, better. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay—I just needed to get this off my chest.

Yours, James

He sighed deeply, folding the letter carefully before slipping it into an envelope. Your name was written on the front in his slightly shaky handwriting. Taking a steadying breath, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his robes. He’d leave it somewhere you’d find it tomorrow, just before you both left for the holidays.

As he lay awake that night, James tried to figure out the best way to deliver the letter. Should he hand it to you directly? No, that was too nerve-wracking—he’d probably end up babbling like an idiot. Maybe he could slip it into your bag and avoid the risk of witnessing your reaction.

The morning was crisp, the kind of cold that painted your cheeks red and sent little clouds of breath swirling in the air. On the platform, the train sat waiting, puffing out plumes of steam that mingled with the frosty air. It was alive with the sound of students saying goodbye and dragging their luggage over the cobblestones.

James walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was doing his best to appear casual, though every step he took felt heavier with the weight of the letter in his robe.

“Let me take that for you,” he blurted suddenly, nodding toward your luggage.

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but your lips curved into a warm smile. “Oh, thanks, James. That’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his ears turned a telltale shade of pink at your words. “What kind of bloke would I be if I didn’t help you out?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with nervous humor.

The two of you chatted as you strolled toward the train. You told him about your plans for the holidays—how you were excited to see your family, how your mum always made far too much food, and how you couldn’t wait to decorate the tree. James listened intently, nodding and laughing at all the right moments, even as his mind raced ahead to the task at hand.

Then, his opportunity came.

You turned away for a brief moment, waving at one of your friends across the platform. James acted quickly, pulling the envelope from his pocket and slipping it into the outermost compartment of your bag. His fingers brushed the fabric for only a second, but it felt like an eternity.

His heart was hammering so loudly he was certain it could be heard over the clamor of the platform. He straightened up just as you turned back to him, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

“Thanks again for carrying that,” you said with a smile, your eyes meeting his.

James gave a small, lopsided grin and shifted your bag on his shoulder. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside him.

As the train’s whistle blew, signaling it was time to board, James knew there was no turning back now. All he could do was wait—and hope that when you found the letter, you’d read it and understand the words that had taken him so long to say.

It had been days since you’d left for the holidays, and James still hadn’t heard from you. Each passing day only worsened the sinking feeling in his chest.

Did you not feel the same? Did you hate him for ruining the friendship? Or worse, were you so disgusted by his confession that you couldn’t even bear to send him a letter saying so?

By Christmas morning, the knot of worry in James’s stomach had become unbearable. He’d stopped pacing and pretending not to care. He spent the early hours staring at the window, waiting for an owl that seemed as though it would never come.

But then, just as the first rays of sunlight streamed through his frosted window, he saw it—a familiar owl perched outside, clutching a small envelope in its talons. His heart leapt with a desperate flicker of hope. Maybe you’d only just found the letter. Maybe you’d taken your time because you wanted to write something perfect.

James hurried to open the window, shivering as the cold air rushed in. The owl extended its leg, allowing him to untie the letter. “Thanks, mate,” James murmured, absently offering the owl a treat before it flew off into the winter sky.

His fingers trembled as he opened the envelope, eager to see your handwriting. But his heart sank the moment he read the first line.

“Happy Christmas, James!”

No mention of his letter. No response to his confession. Just a short, cheerful note wishing him a wonderful holiday and apologizing for not writing sooner. You explained that things had been hectic at home and promised to catch up with him soon.

James felt his chest tighten, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The hope he’d been clinging to was slipping through his fingers.

You’d ignored his letter.

You’d chosen to act as though he’d never written it at all, as if he’d never poured his heart out on that piece of parchment.

James scoffed, his grip on the letter tightening. Fine, he thought bitterly. If you were going to pretend his confession didn’t exist, he could do the same.

He shoved the letter onto his desk, glaring at it as if it were the source of his frustration. Deep down, though, he knew the truth: he didn’t want to ignore you. He wanted to write back, to ask if you’d found the letter, to make sure you weren’t upset with him.

But pride was a stubborn thing, and James Potter wasn’t about to let his vulnerability show again—not now.

As the snow fell softly outside his window, James sat in silence, staring at the letter and wondering if he’d made a mistake by ever writing to you in the first place.

When it was time to return to Hogwarts, James made no effort to find you. Normally, he’d scan the platform, pretending it was a coincidence whenever his eyes landed on you. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to look.

He saw you anyway, just briefly—standing near your family, your face lit up with that familiar smile. His heart leaped in his chest, and his legs almost betrayed him, ready to stride over and say something, anything. But he stopped himself.

Instead, James turned sharply, mumbling a quick goodbye to his parents before heading onto the train. He didn’t want to see you—not now.

The walk through the train felt heavier than usual. He knew exactly where his friends would be—the same compartment they’d claimed since their first year—but it felt like an eternity to get there. When he finally slid open the door, the familiar faces of Sirius, Remus, and Peter greeted him.

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius called cheerfully, but his grin faltered when James slumped onto the seat next to Peter with a loud huff.

James leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He could feel Sirius’s gaze on him, curious and probing.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Sirius asked, unable to resist.

“Don’t.” James’s voice was sharp, firm. It was rare for him to be in a foul mood, let alone snappish.

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t say a word.”

The tension in the compartment was palpable. The train rattled on, and the usual chatter of the four friends was noticeably absent. Sirius kept stealing glances at James, who sat brooding, arms crossed. Peter fidgeted nervously, while Remus flipped through a book, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

Finally, about an hour into the ride, James broke.

“She ignored my letter.” His voice was low, bitter, but it shattered the quiet like a hex.

The others exchanged looks before Peter spoke hesitantly. “She really ignored it?”

“Yes, Peter,” James snapped, his tone sharp enough to make Peter flinch. Realizing what he’d done, James sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Peter mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe she didn’t see it,” Remus offered, his tone calm and rational. “What if it got lost in her luggage? Or someone else found it and hid it? Maybe you gave her another piece of parchment? There’s always a chance—”

“Moony, no.” James cut him off, his voice strained. “I double-checked. It was the right letter, in the right spot. And who doesn’t check their trunk full of clothes over the holiday?”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Sirius said with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, women can be unpredictable. Maybe she’s got a secret stash for random letters in her trunk.”

“No, she checks,” James said with certainty. “I’ve slipped plenty of things into her luggage before, and she’s always found them. She just doesn’t fancy me back.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he forced a small, bitter smile. “And it’s fine. I’ll get over it. I always do, right?”

The compartment fell silent again, the weight of James’s words sinking in.

Sirius leaned forward, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s not fine, James. If she didn’t fancy you back, that’s one thing. But ignoring you? That’s—”

“Don’t,” James interrupted quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Don’t make it worse, Padfoot.”

Sirius bit back a retort and leaned back in his seat, muttering under his breath.

The rest of the ride passed more comfortably, but the shadow of James’s disappointment lingered. His friends cracked jokes and told stories, trying to lift his spirits, but even when he laughed, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Deep down, James wondered if he’d ever stop wishing that you’d read his letter and felt the same way.

Hours later, everyone had gathered in the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling reflected the dusky evening sky, and the buzz of students catching up after the holiday filled the room. Normally, James would sit with Sirius to his left, you to his right, and Remus and Peter across from him. It was a familiar arrangement, one you’d fallen into without question.

But tonight, James broke the routine.

He subtly nudged Peter into the spot on his right before sitting down, leaving the space where you’d usually sit conspicuously empty.

You walked in a moment later, scanning the Gryffindor table until you spotted your usual group. But when you approached, your steps faltered. Peter sat where you always did, looking apologetic but saying nothing.

Your eyes darted to James, silently questioning him, but he avoided your gaze, his attention fixed stubbornly on his plate.

Confused, you looked to Remus for an explanation. Out of all the Marauders, he was the one you trusted most to give you a straight answer. But Remus only shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at discomfort.

You scoffed, your chest tightening. First, James ignored you all through the holiday, and now he didn’t even want to sit near you? Fine. If he wanted to sulk like a child, you weren’t going to beg for his attention.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked further down the table, sliding into a seat beside your other group of friends. You forced yourself to laugh at their jokes and join in their chatter, but your mind kept wandering back to James.

At the Gryffindor table, James’s eyes flicked toward you more often than he’d admit. Every time he saw you laughing with your friends, his stomach twisted.

“Why is she acting like I’m the one in the wrong?” James muttered under his breath, jabbing at a piece of roast potato with his fork.

“Maybe because you’re acting like a prat?” Sirius replied, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned closer.

James shot him a glare.

“Look, Prongs,” Sirius continued, dropping the teasing. “She doesn’t know what’s going on. You didn’t even give her a chance to explain, and now you’re sulking like a first-year who lost his chocolate frog cards.”

“Explain what? She ignored my letter, Padfoot. What’s there to explain?” James hissed, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

Remus sighed, setting down his goblet. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe she doesn’t even know what letter you’re talking about?”

James froze, his fork hovering mid-air.

“Just talk to her, mate,” Sirius said, giving James a nudge. “Or don’t. But if you keep this up, you’re only making it worse—for both of you.”

James huffed, slumping back in his seat. The truth was, he didn’t know if he had it in him to face you just yet.

From across the hall, you caught the way James’s shoulders sagged, and for a brief moment, you considered walking over. But pride held you in place. If James wanted to act like this, fine. Two could play that game.

You and James hadn’t spoken in what felt like weeks. The once effortless connection you shared had been replaced with an awkward silence that weighed heavily on you. It wasn’t just James—it felt like the whole group of Marauders had grown distant, their usual antics and inside jokes missing their spark when you were around.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d done something to upset him. But what? You racked your brain for answers, replaying every interaction from the past few months. James had always been one of your closest friends—why was he acting so strange?

Charms class was the hardest part of it all. You always sat beside James, sharing notes, exchanging whispers, and stifling laughs when Professor Flitwick wasn’t looking. Now, you sat in the same spot, the chair next to you glaringly empty.

You tried to focus on the professor’s instructions, but your thoughts were louder than his voice. Scribbling aimlessly in your notebook, you hardly noticed when someone approached your desk.

“Are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy with a blue-and-bronze tie standing beside you. His face was vaguely familiar—you’d seen him around in class but had never spoken to him.

“Yeah—yes, I’m fine,” you stammered, blinking in confusion. Why was he talking to you?

He gave a polite, slightly amused smile. “Well, can you move your stuff? I’m sitting here now. We’re partners for the project.”

“Oh!” Heat rose to your cheeks as you hurriedly shoved your books to one side. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize.”

“No worries,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. “I figured you weren’t paying attention—no offense. But I was, so I’ll explain what Professor Flitwick said.”

You managed a small smile, relieved by his casual tone. “Thanks. That’s… helpful.”

While he began outlining the project details, your focus wavered, glancing at James out of the corner of your eye. He was across the room, seated next to a loud and enthusiastic partner who seemed to be trying desperately to get his attention. But James wasn’t listening.

His gaze was fixed on you.

There was a flicker of something in his expression—jealousy, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was, it made your stomach twist.

You quickly turned your attention back to your new partner, nodding along to his explanation, even if you weren’t entirely listening. You felt James’s eyes on you the entire time, but you refused to look back.

Across the room, James’s jaw clenched. His partner waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance.

“Oi, Potter! Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” James muttered, though his eyes drifted back to you moments later.

He hated this—seeing someone else sitting beside you, making you smile when that used to be his seat, his job. But he didn’t know how to fix it. The letter. The silence. The way he’d avoided you. It all felt too big now, too messy to undo.

Still, James couldn’t stop watching you, his heart sinking further with every laugh you shared with your new partner.

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taglist!! @zowiiiisblog , @kxnnxy , @rainingleaves , @icollectrubberduckies , @elsie-bells

[homestylehughes]

i'll always come home to you.

pairing(s): quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: quinn making a promise to always come home to yn.

word count: 508

warning(s): nothing!! super cute fluff :)

authors note: hi loves!! super sorry ive been so inactive. school started, and ive been so busy but i wanted to write a little blurb about quinn, he's been on my mind recently, he's sooooooo (so many words). anyways! i hope you all are doing well, take care of yourself and stay healthy. much love as always <3.

No matter how many times Quinn left for a roadie, it was still hard. No matter how many times you tried to prepare for the long weeks without him all around you, it was still so hard. This time specifically was harder than usual. You had the worst week at work and all you wanted was to come home to Quinn, to wrap yourself in his embrace..to feel calm, to feel love. But instead of being cuddled up to Quinn, you were instead cuddled up on the couch under your favorite blanket with a pout on your face as Quinn finished packing his things for the 2 week roadie. 

“I wish you could stay” you pout out from the couch, watching as Quinn packs his last bag full of gear. 

“I know baby, i wish i could too” quinn says from the kitchen, shooting you a quick loving look before getting back to work 

“Imagine if i just trap you in the house, so then you can't leave” you say jokingly 

“You'd have a lot of mad fans and players on your hands baby” quinn says with a chuckle, as he sets his now packed bag on the ground, now walking towards on the couch 

“I know. It sounded good in my head” you say with a sigh, dropping your head back against the couch to look up at quinn who's now standing above you. 

“If i could you know id stay here with you forever” he says as he looks down at you 

“I know, I wish you could. I know I should be used to you leaving but every time you do I swear it gets harder.” 

“Oh baby” Quinn says, moving to sit next to you on the couch. 

“Come here” he gestures to his lap, nodding as you follow his request. Hooking your leg on his thigh, pulling yourself into his lap. 

“Im sorry..im being a baby.” you say, feeling childish that your acting like this infront of him

“Hey. look at me” he says, moving your face to look at his 

“You have nothing to feel sorry for, you're allowed to be sad. You know how much it kills me to have to be away from you for weeks and months out of the year? I miss you before I even walk out the door, I promise that I will always come home to you, as long as you allow me too." Quinn declares to you, his eyes never moving from yours. 

You can feel your eyes beginning to water as you soak in his words, as you stare back at him. 

“Quinn. You always know how to make me cry” you say with a small laugh as you go to run your hand under your eyes to catch the tears that have fallen

“I love you so much. I want you to always come home to me for the rest of our lives.” you say 

“I love you more” he says, moving his hands to cradle your face in his hands,

Quinn moves to connect your lips together, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close to you even if it's just for a little while longer. Embracing each other in your warmth and love, pouring every bit of your love into the kiss, hoping it'll give you enough to last for two weeks. Even its two weeks or two months you know that Quinn will always come home to you. 

[slimepuparibaba]

Optimal Reading Order for Caleb's Storyline (with an infographic)

SO! I HAVE COLLECTED ALL THE CARDS AND HERE IS MY THEORIZED TIMELINE FOR PRESENT DAY CALEB! TRUST ME, WHEN READ IN ORDER THIS SHIT HITS SO HARD. CALEB'S WRITING TEAM INHALED SOMETHING AND I WANT WHAT THEY HAD.

If you want me to do an analysis for the Past Caleb Cards too, we will have to wait until 10 Days With You ends, but pls let me know because I've already pieced those together too. I'd also do this with the other boys but it is MUCH harder due to there being less indication and less tells (InFold, please do what Tears of Themis is doing where they put the stuff in order in one of their CN updates plsplsplsplsplsplsplsplsplsPLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLS)

MILD SPOILERS (and by mild I mean I just noted vague points in time that allowed me to pinpoint where they were in the timeline + relationship progress you're not really getting spoiled but some ppl wanna go in completely blind and that's perfectly understandable!)

Main Story - Yeah no duh. Caleb is basically a stranger here, and we're at square one.

Endless Summer - The card references it had been 2 weeks since she last saw Caleb in Skyhaven. They're awkward here.

Exclusive Aftercare - This is when MC starts letting Caleb more back into her life. This comes in between ES and Myth because of Caleb still trying to keep distance, distance that isn't all there in...

Myth - First time MC visits Skyhaven after the Main Story. She is on better terms with Caleb and their relationship makes so much progress here.

Hidden Waves - MC visits Caleb's home in Skyhaven. It's obvious they're now starting to repair what they lost.

Painful Signal - Hidden Waves is referenced here, and obvious revelations are obvious. Also, Gideon!

EXTRA NOTE: Canonically, by this point in the timeline, MC is at least Affinity Level 30 here due to Gideon's appearance in Caleb's Moments. There is also a very, VERY noticeable shift in his calls and texts and how MC starts replying to him after this, implying they definitely made progress. She was seemingly more off with him, as was he in expressing his desires, but once we pass this threshold, he starts voicing his affections more openly for MC, with her also starting to call out to him more.

Intertwined Gold - I cannot stress enough that this actually acts as a beautiful resolution to this little arc. I mean it so much. Their past already acted as their time to let things fester, and this is just... *sniffle* oh my god, it's beautiful.

I felt like I watched an entire TV Drama when reading through the cards in this order. Please read it in this order for optimal experience because you genuinely get to see the growth Caleb and MC get to have in this weird situation where they're adults trying to figure each other and their feelings out. I am a Sylus girlie (I KNOW I HAVEN'T MADE ENOUGH STUFF FOR HIM SO IT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE IT, SHUT UP, I THIRST FOR HIM IN PRIVATE, IT COUNTS) but even I have to admit, this shit? Fire. Actual fire. Caleb's writing team is beautiful, and I hope they have good things happen to them.

...also BEG INFOLD TO MAKE A FUNCTION WHERE WE CAN LIST MEMORIES IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER, THIS HIT SO HARD AND I WAS LUCKY I GUESSED RIGHT FOR MOST OF THE MEMORIES THE ONLY ONES I FUCKED UP WAS HIDDEN WAVES COMING AFTER MYTH, BUT ITS OK--

EDIT: I MADE AN INFOGRAPHIC WITH MY SISTER!!! YAY

[shouyuus]

could i request car mechanic!vi and fem!reader hcs and little moments of their daily life now that they’re officially dating? 🤭🤭 you write vi so wellll nghghhh 😫

sfw fluffy hcs for car mechanic!vi au bulletpoints bc im in that mood today

breakfast is always a long, drawn out thing -- almost ritualistic, bc "breakfast is the most important meal of the day, sweets! c'mon, you oughtta know that." and you take turns making it, either for each other or for whoever else is in the house that day (sometimes vander, sometimes silco will drop by for coffee, sometimes powder and ekko will stay the night, in which case ekko almost always makes breakfast, bc powder's very particular about her pancakes)

you can't rmbr the last time you sat in a chair proper bc vi's always pulling you into her lap (except at the dinner table, where she tries to show a TAD more decorum, esp if you're having dinner at your place instead of hers, but even then, she'd pull her chair close to yours, just so she can press her leg against yours or reach out to put a palm on your thigh)

on the days that you're not together, you definitely text vi a bit more -- she's got her hands full of repairs, and your biggest worry on the daily is what you wanna make for dinner that day, and if you need to drop by the grocery store before you head over to vi's

the first time you try to teach vi how to use chopsticks, you end up just plopped in her lap, feeding her off your plate bc she claims that "it's easier this way" and that she can "watch your technique better from up close" although it's so stupidly obvious that she's not looking at your hands bc she can't keep her eyes off your lips and how you can't stop giggling when you twist around to feed her

on the lazy summer nights when all the work has been done and all the stuff that can still be done can wait till tomorrow, vi takes you up the hill behind the city, to her favorite little outlook, tucked into the side of a backroad that no one except the true locals know about -- from there, you can see the entire city spread out beneath you, sprawling net, cast in light and shattered stars. "i used to hate this place... just a little, cause i thought i'd never get out of it," she tells you. "and now?" you ask. "now... i kinda love it... it's my home and... well, it gave me you, didn't it?"

vi thanks the heavens that you only live a few streets over, and that it takes her about 5 minutes on her bike to get between your houses (even though, yeah, you do technically live on the rich side of town, just across the train tracks), bc sometimes, 5 minutes is just about as long as she can wait before she starts to feel fidgety about the thought of seeing you again

the nights she spends at yours are always fun -- your bed's more than big enough for the pair of you to sprawl out on; you'd flick through channels on tv till something catches your eye, or carry as many snacks as either of you can up and post up for a movie marathon. it'd always end up with one of you lying against the other, your body curled between her legs or the other way around

sometimes she falls asleep against you, and you'd let the entire movie play before trying to slip out from behind her to turn off the lights. she always wakes up when you move, and she always grumbles and tries to pull you back; you always laugh and promise her that you'll be right back, to which she'd always pout but it morphs into a smile as she watches you patter around the room in a big t-shirt, turning off the lights and clearing the snacks off the bed before climbing back into her arms

she always keeps her hand tucked around your hip whenever the two of you go out anywhere, or she's got her hand pushed into the back pocket of your jeans or shorts or whatever the hell else; she claims its just bc she wants you close; you both know that it's also bc she wants zero questions as to who you belong to when you're walking down the street

when her hair gets long in the back, she lets you braid it and in it up with cute lil clips bc she likes the way it makes you smile

she almost loses it a little when she wakes up one day at yours and finds that you've put out an extra cup for her, and bought her a new toothbrush to use; it's then that she realizes she's already left like a quarter of her wardrobe here and that your parents no longer even look up when she comes downstairs in the morning, bedhead and all, to greet them, and that they've somehow always already made coffee for her, just the way she likes

"hey prett girl, can i ask you something?" "yeah, sure." "what... do you think about moving in together?" "hm? oh --" "not like right this moment or anything but --" "i'd love to. i mean, it does get a little complicated splitting time between my place and yours." "oh... that was -- i thought you'd be a bit more..." vi swallows, trailing off. you cock your head and fix her with a look, "a bit more what? hesitant? i mean... we're basically together all the time now anyway. it'd just make things easier, right? and --" a blush flushes into your cheeks as you look away, clearing your throat, "it'd -- it'd be nice not to have to be so q-quiet, sometimes."

vi nearly blacks out at your words; and yeah, so what if she starts looking at places that exact afternoon?

[dapperpea]

Hey so I'm just a copyeditor but your teacher sounds like she sucks.

My literal job is to make sure readers don't do what you do in the last paragraph, and get too caught up on the writing to be able to actually sink into the reading. To make the words as effortless as possible for the intended audience to ingest so they can focus on the meaning. It's a whole career. Because it's important.

As a reader, the best stories for me are the ones I have to read twice because I keep having to stop and kick my feet and squeal over how cleverly pacing and phrasings and diction have been used. The wholeheartedly enjoyable combination of skill and technique is the best part for me. Saying the craft doesn't matter is like saying listening to someone read a story in monotone versus reading it with emphasis and doing all the voices are the same thing.

Mr. HIV Doctor is right. The craft and technique of writing is integral to its being. Like, yes, sure, sometimes I turn my brain off and enjoy a story that's not well-written because I just want to, and I'm sure musicians do the same with music. But I'm equally sure I note the technique of writing when I read and musicians do when they listen to music. Have you ever watched a "musicians react to X" video? They stop and talk about the syncopation, the layering of strings, the way it calls back to various musical eras. Being able to notice what works and doesn't work in others' craft is an amazing way to boost your own! Your teacher is cutting that off!

This on top of the hero's journey BS? Bruh, idk if your teacher's got some bug that her way's the only way or if she just can't stand someone else pointing out things she didn't know, but that ain't it, chief.

okay sorry, one other thing annoyed me about that writing class. one of the students is this super clean-cut doctor who works at an HIV clinic, and he asked the prof "do you ever get distracted while reading books, because you find yourself analyzing the craft of them instead of sinking into the story?"

and she said "no," and turned away. and the whole class laughed awkwardly, bc it was a pretty abrupt and dismissive answer. so then she turned back to him and said "you wouldn't ask a musician if they get distracted listening to songs. they just enjoy the music."

but I dunno, I'm a newbie writer with only one (scheduled-to-be-published) book under my belt, but I get distracted sometimes when I'm reading. if I find I'm not sinking into a block of text, I'll squint at it and be like "okay, they're using too much passive voice, that's why my brain isn't grabbing on to it." so I'm sorry Mr. HIV doctor, I thought your question was reasonable!

[gloomwitchwrites]

Feel free to ignore if this is too heavy but ive been feeling low and i wonder...

How would the 141 help their SO through a breakdown? Like hyperventilating and crying? How would they talk them down?

Again, if you dont want to write this i completely understand. Much love

It's not too heavy, and I know I'm fairly delayed on getting to this. I hope you're feeling better than when you sent this to my inbox. You're in my thoughts, anon. <3

written with gn!reader

Content & Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort

Out of all of them, Ghost is the most understanding, and the calmest in this situation. Maybe it’s because of his own trauma, or the fact that he’s struggled with own mental health, but there’s no judgment here. There is also no rush to try and tell you to “calm down.” Ghost might be a bit of a weirdo, but he knows how to read the room. He’s not going to immediately lovebomb you. What he will do, is give you space, to speak calmly to you, to be the anchor you need when you feel like you’re sinking.

While Soap is supportive, he’s the least likely of the bunch to get this right. Doesn’t mean he won’t try. The tears and anxiety aren’t going to scare him away, but it’ll create an internal panic inside him all on its own. That’s not your fault, he just doesn’t like to see you cry. He hates it when you’re hurting because Soap knows he’s not always going to be able to fix it. While he enjoys physical touch, he might be more hesitant in this situation to completely wrap you up in his arms until you’re calmer. One thing that you can completely rely on is that Soap is a yapper. He will try to talk you through it, even cracking jokes if it helps distract you.

It's Price that might sway either way. The breakdown could surprise him, throw him off a bit, but this man has quick recovery. He’s used to extremely stressful situations and making changes on the fly. Don’t expect him to be perfect though, or even promptly take the correct actions. If anything, he might freeze up if the breakdown is unexpected. He might stumble through getting to where he needs to be to support you. But he will do his best, making sure he’s by your side, trying to keep you calm and collected, to make sure you know how much he loves and cares for you.

A breakdown doesn’t last long with Kyle around. This man has it down to a science, especially if it has happened before. You know you can be completely vulnerable and open with him, that Kyle is comfortable seeing you at your worst and won’t judge you for it. There is nothing more comforting or calming than Kyle’s presence. This man is nothing but soothing words and gentle touches. He’ll let you press you face into his chest, snotty nose and all, and won’t bat an eye. He’ll hold you if that’s what you need or sit beside you if you require space. If you don’t want him to talk at all and just want him to listen, he’ll do that too.

main masterlist

[v6quewrlds]

Can you plzzzz write something based off the new Alo ad song with Joe. Maybe y/n and Joe have been dating for awhile, their heading to his house when he decides to take the "long way home" just to admire her/he realizes he's in love/falling in love with her!

Btw I love your writes sososo much!!! Like have you ever thought about writing a book frfr? Kinda new here so not sure if you've ever talked about it but yeah <3

imagine taking the long way home with joe.

author's note⠀⁎⠀got so carried away writing this. i honestly don't think i have the attention span/commitment required to write a book lol. but this song is the cutest ty for requesting <3

Three short knocks on the mahogany of her front door echoed through the hallway. Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest as she paused her frantic search for the last earring she'd lost amidst the chaos of packing. She rushed to the door, her pulse racing like it did every time the anticipation of seeing Joe caught her in its grasp. She took a deep breath, casting a quick glance at the mirror by the door before opening it with a soft smile and bright eyes.

"Hey," Joe greeted with a casual ease, a bouquet of white peonies in one hand and a bottle of her favorite wine in the other. His grin was as warm as ever, his blue eyes scanning the room, taking in the sight of her apartment in the throes of preparation for her short getaway.

She moved to the side, allowing him to enter. "Hey," she echoed, closing the door before turning to step into his arm for a brief hug and a chaste kiss. "You didn't have to bring these," she said, nodding at the flowers and the wine, taking them from him with a gentle show of awe.

"They're your favorites," he said simply, tucking his hands into his pockets with a shrug. She felt a warmth spread through her chest, a feeling she was getting quite used to around him. She took the bouquet to the kitchen to find a vase, her mind racing with the excitement of the days ahead.

The apartment was small but cozy, filled with the scents of her favorite candles and the faint sound of an old Drake song playing in the background. As she filled a vase with water, Joe wandered in, peering over her shoulder. "You almost ready to go?"

She nodded, setting the flowers down. "Just gotta take the trash out. I don't wanna leave with it just sitting here. I'll take it on our way out."

Joe offered to do it for her, a gesture that touched her more than he could know. She watched as he took the bag, telling her he'd be right back as he headed out the door. As he turned, she took the opportunity to sneak a peek at him. He was dressed casually, a blue crewneck and worn-in gray jeans that hugged his athletic frame. His hair was ruffled slightly, as if he'd run his hands through it, a nervous trait which she found utterly endearing.

While Joe was gone, she took one last look around her apartment, ensuring she hadn't forgotten anything. Her eyes fell on the fridge, a collection of photos held by magnets. The newest addition was a polaroid of them in the mirror. Her camera was covering half of her face as Joe appeared to be mid-sentence. She couldn't remember what he'd said, but she could see the laughter in his eyes, the joy she felt that day reflected back at her.

They had known each other for a year and had been dating for four months, but it felt like forever. She couldn't believe how fast she had fallen for Joe, having been one heartbreak away from swearing off men entirely. Yet here she was, about to spend her precious PTO in his arms, in his house, surrounded by his life.

When he returned from tossing the trash, he found her with her back to the door, her hand lingering over the fridge, the photo of them smiling back at her. He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. "Ready?" he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

She turned in his embrace, leaning into him. "Yeah," she murmured, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Let me grab my things." She stepped away from the fridge, breaking the momentary reverie, and picked up her bag, her heart thumping against her chest as he held out a hand to take it from her.

As they left her apartment, Joe led her to his car parked at the curb. The car was a sleek black, gleaming under the streetlights, the seats plush leather as she slid into the passenger side. They'd had their fair share of fancy dinners and morning afters since they started dating, but there was something about staying at Joe's place - four days uninterrupted - that made this feel different.

On the way to Joe's, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was being unusually quiet. She tried to keep the conversation flowing, filling the silence with tales of her workplace dramas and the latest episode of the show they were watching together. Yet Joe's responses were shorter than usual, his eyes on the road as if it held secrets he hadn't yet uncovered. The only solace to her nervous mind was his warm hand on her thigh, a silent reassurance that he was still there with her, even if his thoughts seemed a mile away.

She turned her attention to the road, realizing they were taking a route she didn't recognize. "You're not taking me to some sketchy motel, are you?" she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Joe chuckled, glancing at her with a twinkle in his eye. "Nah, I just wanted to admire the scenery," he said, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her thigh. "If I wanted to kidnap you, I'd be a little more creative than using my own car."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. "Good point," she conceded. They drove on in the comfortable silence, the hum of the car engine the only sound between them. As they approached a red light, Joe took the opportunity to shift in his seat, turning to her with a seriousness that made her pause mid-sentence.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice trailing off as she met his gaze. There was something in Joe's eyes she hadn't seen before, a vulnerability that made her heart swell. He reached over and took her hand, his thumb brushing against her knuckles in a rhythmic pattern.

"I just wanna look at you," he hummed simply, his gaze roaming over her features like a photograph he was memorizing. She felt a sudden shyness bloom in her chest, the weight of his stare making her self-conscious. She tried to laugh it off, but it came out as more of a nervous giggle. "You're so beautiful."

Her face warmed at his words, and she playfully swatted his hand away. "Joe, the light's been red for ages. You're gonna miss it," she said, but there was no bite to her tone.

He didn't break eye contact, his expression earnest. "I know these lights," he said, a half smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "We'll be here a while." His right moved to cradle her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

Her eyes searched his, the playfulness in her gaze slowly giving way to something deeper. "Joe…" she breathed, not quite sure what to make of the sudden shift in their usual dynamic.

The light turned green, and her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. No honks yet. She couldn't hold back her laughter, breaking the tension. "Alright, you've had your moment, now drive," she playfully ordered, her voice a mix of affection and amusement.

Joe's smile grew, and he finally turned back to the road, his hand falling away from her face to its spot on her thigh. His foot eased off the brake, and they rolled through the now-green light. She watched as the scenery passed by, her thoughts racing with the unspoken words that had filled the car. The rest of the drive was spent in a gentle quietude, their fingers intertwined, the occasional glance shared between them speaking volumes.

When they arrived at Joe's house, it was a stark contrast to the cozy warmth of her apartment. Expensive and sprawling, it was a testament to his success, with high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed a perfectly manicured lawn and a pool that reflected the moonlight. It stood alone on a hill, a good distance away from the other affluent homes in the immediate area.

He pulled into the garage and cut the engine, the silence enveloping them as the door rolled down behind them. She felt a peculiar mix of excitement and trepidation as Joe opened her door for her. She stepped out, her sneakers setting against the cold cement floor, her eyes scanning the room filled with various equipment and a few luxury cars. She couldn't help but feel a touch overwhelmed by the grandeur of his life, so different from her own.

"You taking it in?" Joe asked, his hand lingering on hers as he helped her out of the car.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. "Yeah," she said with a nod, "just a little…wowed by all of this." She gestured to the garage, taking in the grandeur of his home.

"Still?" He teased with that deep chuckle of his. "You've been in here at least twice before."

"Every time feels like the first," she replied, a hint of awe still in her voice as her eyes fell back to his. She could feel her breath catch as Joe leaned in, his gaze never leaving hers, his thumb still brushing against the back of her hand. The air in the garage grew thick with anticipation, and she stepped closer, her free hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

"You okay?" She asked again gently, her fingers brushing through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. His eyes searched hers, a faraway look swirling in his baby blues, one she hadn't seen before.

"Yeah," he murmured, "Just…thinking." He stepped closer, his other hand finding the small of her back, pulling her into him until she was nestled against his chest. She could feel the steady thump of his heart against her own, his warm breath fluttering against her face as he exhaled as if searching for the right words.

"I love you." He said finally, the words coming out so softly she wasn't sure if she'd heard him right.

She froze, her eyes widening. She had felt it, of course. The way he looked at her, the way he held her, the little things he did. But she hadn't expected to hear it, not yet. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared up at him, her eyes searching his, looking for any sign of a joke or tease. But Joe's face was earnest, his eyes holding hers without a trace of humor.

She searched for the words she hadn't yet said out loud, the words that had been growing in her chest for weeks now. They felt heavy on her tongue, but she knew they were true. "I love you too," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. The moment stretched out as if time had paused just for them.

Joe's face broke into a smile, the tension in his shoulders melting away. He leaned down to kiss her, a gentle, lingering kiss that spoke of love and relief. She felt her heart swell, her hands coming up to wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss. They broke apart, both breathing heavily, exhaling together as if staring in a mirror.

"I've been waiting to tell you," he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I didn't know if it was too soon, but I couldn't not say it."

She leaned into him, her hand still on his neck, her eyes searching his. "I've been wanting to say it," she said, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. "I just didn't expect it to come out like this."

Joe chuckled, his eyes shining with affection. "Well, I figured I'd make it a memory worth keeping," he said, his thumb still stroking her cheek. The silence that followed was peaceful, the only sound their synchronized breaths and the distant hum of the garage door motor.

She felt a warmth spread through her, a warmth that seemed to banish the cold from the concrete around them. "It's definitely one I'll hold onto," she said, her voice low and earnest. She leaned into his embrace, feeling the strength in his arms, the beat of his heart. It was perfect.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

How could you love somebody like me?

Pairing: f!reader x Javier Peña Words count: 3032 Rating: + 18, NSFW, MDNI. Summary: Javi is under protection and has asked you to join him in the hotel room where he is confined. When you discover his secrets and lies, however, that room will become too small. Too small for both of you. Tags/warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, Javi is still a DEA agent but it's a modern setting so the man has a smartphone. Reader is described having female genitalia and breasts, no other description of her is given, she doesn't blush and her hair is not described. Mention of alcohol, mention of cheating, Javi is a cheater, no happy ending, we will go through the man's phone (you're not supposed to do that but I never said my reader could do no wrong, right?), use of pet names (gatita which means kitten in Spanish, baby, darling), smut, angry sex, unprotected p in v (do better irl), cream pie, of course a little nipple play ‘cause it’s still my fic, toxic relationship, self doubt, mention of Steve, a huge pile of lies, Javi is bad at feelings, some reader’s thoughts marked in italics. I think it's all, let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: Written for @jolapeno 's "Dear-uary" challenge. This was my prompt, I struggled a little bit at first but I ended up having a blast writing this ❤︎ Heavily inspired by this song (from which the fic also takes its title), I heard it randomly on Spotify one day and I thought "wait, this is perfect for Javi!" and I ended up being obsessed with two more songs by the same artist. LOL Many thanks to: - @aurorawritestoescape , my beta, for her help and advice, she will probably dream of elephants because of me tonight hahaha Kate I own you a big one, thanks baby so much, I love you ❤️ - The person who basically pulled this out of my brain and supported me throughout the process, my precious, my peanut @joelmillerisapunk. 🥰 Love you so much it's ridiculous🥹 - @milla-frenchy for letting me blather about this thing some days ago. Love you, bb ❤︎ English is not my first language, every single mistake is still on me, I deeply apologize if you find any.

Edited - because I forgot to change the most important detail, of course. I’m not myself if I’m not doing a mess. Yay. It’s okay now.

“Why the hell am I here? Was I the only available hole this week?”

“No,” he whispers. 

“So what?” 

Javier came back and found you in the middle of the room.

You were brandishing his phone like a sword in the air, the banner of everything that was wrong.

His face went pale when he saw you like that. 

Eyes wide open. 

Mouth agape. 

He tried to say something but you immediately hit him with a vomit of words.

“I know what you’re doing,” you hiss under your breath, feeling your eyes sting.

Javier is a marble statue in front of you, his lips pressed together, his absent eyes not even looking at you, staring at a spot behind your shoulders, his arms abandoned along his sides. 

He seems anchored to the ground. 

His last words to you still burn on your skin like a fire you cannot extinguish.

A heavy silence between you fills the air of the room and makes it unbreathable. 

“Fuck, Javier, talk to me,” you whisper angrily.

You clutch his phone in your hands, so tightly that your knuckles are white from exertion, as if you were clinging to it to keep yourself from falling off a cliff. 

“You knew I was no good,” he says sternly.

You have been in this room for two days. 

Officially, Javier has to stay here because henchmen of one of the new drug lords in town are set on taking him out. 

Unofficially, he has you infiltrating the room. 

Typical Javier, spending his time under protection fucking someone. 

You foolishly almost believed it was romantic, until this morning. 

“So you’re trying to say that it’s my fault? Is that what you want to say? It’s my fault that as soon as I turn my back you go and stick your cock in someone else's pussy?” You don’t even have the strength to scream right now. Your voice comes out rancorous but low, hoarse, like a blown growl. 

Oh, you’re not going to accept being lectured by him, fuck no.

“No, I’m just saying -” he tries to explain and you glare at him, making the words die in his mouth.  

"What?" 

“Fuck, I'll never change,” he shrugs as if it were a truism that only you can't grasp.

His eyes shift to the ground, dull and absent.

“You don't change because you are convinced that you can't,” you admonish him, feeling anger rising from your chest. 

"That's not true," he murmurs, keeping his gaze on the crimson and gold carpet that lies at your feet.

“Yes, it is,” you insist, ”and you seem to like to think of yourself as an incurable asshole.”

He still fails to see the real problem, the elephant in the room that lives and thrives among you. 

"Then you tell me, if you think you know me so well,” he asks with defiance. 

“You bet I fucking know you,” you lash out. “You think you're so mysterious and complicated?! Well,  news flash, I've seen plenty like you. You’re just another man. You're not even that, you're a child. A child who's afraid of his own shadow when it comes to relationships.”

“Don’t fucking analyze me,” he hisses, finally setting his eyes back on you. 

Raven, angry and fearful. He knows you can read him like an open book and this unleashes an awareness upon him that crushes him to the ground.

You bitterly laugh, “Truth hurts, huh? I know something about it”. 

The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepens, his nostrils flare, and his mouth tightens into a line so thin you think he’s about to burst. He stays quiet instead, eyes back on the damask carpet decoration. 

_____________

“Yes, Steve, I'm fine. That jerk won't find me here, and anyway it's full of police outside the door.” 

A pause and a sigh. 

”No, no one followed her, they don't know who she is.”

You stood behind the half-closed bathroom door listening. 

You smiled. 

His voice sounded softer when he talked about you. You lulled yourself into that feeling. 

Until you heard something else. 

A booming laugh. 

Water ran in the shower, tiny droplets coated the wall as the mirror fogged up.

“Whatever. Of course I'm still screwing around. At least, I was doing it before that asshole started chasing me,” his voice suddenly lowered so you took a chance and opened the door a little more. You wanted to make sure you heard right. 

Your hand trembled against the doorknob, you grabbed your wrist to hold it steady. 

“You idiot,” he scoffed. “Yeah, we'll be in touch.”

Suspicion. The black wing of a crow that had been wrapped around your heart for a long time.

But then why did it hurt so much? 

You allowed yourself to hide it in a part of your brain where you never looked-that was a mistake. Making the hunch barely a firefly when it was supposed to be a bright neon sign.

He always places the phone with its screen down when you go out to dinner, softly smiling at it when he checks it after a few vibrations, telling you “it’s Steve” when you ask. 

But you know that crooked smile. 

He dodges when you ask him about his day "oh work, you know, just work." 

He tells you he is with Steve but you hear female voices in the background. 

Every time you try to confront him it always ends the same way, him telling you, “you’re paranoid, there’s no one else, just you, baby. You’re the only one I want.”

And then he fucks your doubts into oblivion.

You heard the thud of the phone on the blankets. And then Javier calling you. 

You swallowed the gall rising from the walls of your stomach and just smiled when he joined you in the bathroom and suggested that you shower together.

You wanted some proof before you charged him. 

If there was anything you had learned from being with him, it was that hard evidence was the key. So you played cool. 

He fucked you against the shower wall and you moaned into his neck. 

He licked your pussy like a man starved and you just bit your lips until you felt iron on your tongue.

He kissed you with that liar's mouth, and you let him.

And you fell asleep beside him, on the unmade bed of your uncertainties. 

This morning someone from outside called him into the hallway to report the latest movements of the guy who was looking for him. 

His phone was on the bedside table.

It was like a magnet, pulling your hand to it.

You were almost sure you knew his unlock code ‘cause you had watched the movements of his finger many times. 

You tried twice without success. 

The third time you let out a long sigh, visualized in your mind the movement one more time and unlocked it. 

You were in. 

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as your fingers swiped and clicked on the screen. 

And there they were.

Dozens and dozens of messages and pics exchanged with 4 different women.

You scrolled through one of the chats with a certain Maria, who regularly sent him pictures of her tits and her legs spread wide, her pussy in the shot.

There was sexting, arranged dates, same promises he gave to you, things you never asked for but he kept repeating like a broken record. Even the same pet name. Gatita. 

Blood simmered in your veins, a jolt in your heart, throat dry. 

Your finger furiously scrolled through the chat, finding tons of messages he had sent her while he was with you.

You switched to another one and you found pretty much the same. And yet another, message after message containing flirting and explicit sex.  

“Oh Javi, you keep getting better and better with that cock of yours”

“My pussy needs you, darling, can you come over?”

“I can’t stop thinking about your huge cock dripping on me”

And the more you scrolled, the more a question formed in your brain, rumbling through your temples like a deafening drum. 

Was he ever sincere with you?

________

When he looks up at you again, you see it. A veil of fragility in the dense blackness of his gaze.

He looks almost helpless. “I know you tried,” he admits, ”You tried harder than anyone else.”

“Apparently it was no use,” you chastise him.

He doesn’t reply. 

Instead he comes closer and closer. 

You pull back, responding to his every step forward with a backward one. 

“Please,” he whispers. 

“No.” 

“Don't do that.”

“You have no right to tell me what to do,” you bark.

”I know...” 

“Fuck off, Javier, leave me alone.”

You pull back until you hit the wall behind you. 

Javier approaches, bending slightly to reach your mouth, his mustache brushes against your cupid’s bow and you don't even have the strength to turn your face away anymore. 

When your lips collide you let it happen. 

It’s like when you drink too much Tequila. 

It burns on your tongue, leaving you almost anesthetized as soon as you down it, and then an aromatic taste wafts into your mouth; it is lysergic, unusual, unmistakable.

You love it, so you keep doing it.

Javier is the same. 

He's sharp, stiff at the edges, burns like fire, but he has an aura that you won’t mistake for anything and he hypnotizes you. He’s not like anyone else, despite what you told him. There is an underlying despair in him, a cry dying in his throat, “How can you love someone like me?” 

He says it only with his eyes but you hear it clearly.

He is a time bomb that explodes in your heart every time he touches you. So you keep doing it.

“Fuck,” you whisper against his lips. 

“Yeah…I know. I’m not worthy.”

And yet, you’re still here.

You let him peel off your every layer of clothing, to leave you naked and vulnerable in front of him. 

You do nothing when he undresses too. Hastily taking off his shirt, fumbling with the button of his jeans, nervous hands and short breaths.

It is like some mind fuck game, intoxicating, dangerous, capable of leaving permanent marks.

He lowers his jeans just enough to free his cock, no boxers. Always ready.

His hands run over your hips and you groan. 

His tongue slides over your neck, his eyes closed, his breath heavy and warm on your skin. 

He makes you cry, but you don't say no.

His lips latch onto your nipple and adrenaline rushes through your veins up into your head, hitting hard like a jackhammer.

You don’t pull back anymore, you push your tit into his mouth so eagerly you feel his teeth closing on your bud and you whine in pleasure. 

His growing erection leaks against your center. You are trapped. Not so much because you are between him and the wall but because you no longer know how to get him out of your head. 

Right now it doesn't matter how much it hurts. 

He slides his hands down your thighs and you know what he wants, without needing to speak. You wrap your legs around his waist. He kneels on the bed with you still clinging to him, you lie back on the soft blankets that smell of you both, arch your back and press against his cock. You folds splayed and dripping for him.

His fingers go up your rib cage, stop under your breasts and grasp there, he draws you back to him and your mouths collide again.

You let his tongue enter. You let the fleeting pleasure of this instant take over all the no's you know you have to say.

There’s no right kind of love here, this room is drowned in angry sex.

Angry at how you can never say no to him, angry at how he makes you feel, angry because you know that no one has ever fucked you the way he did, invading your body with a pleasure so addictive that it makes you sick. Angry because maybe he's right, he can't change. 

You break the kiss and bite on his shoulder, a small act of revenge that really does no harm compared to your bleeding heart. 

Your hands grasp on the golden skin of his back, leaving marks with your nails digging into it, your miserable attempt to leave marks on him in return.

You moan convulsively under his touch, your mouth wide open against his, your tongue desperately seeking him out. 

His hands tighten on your ass, lifting you slightly, his cock slides over your wet opening, a guttural sound comes out of the back of your throat without you being able to hold it back. 

You want him inside you. 

You need him inside you.

And it’s wrong, and desperate. It’s masochistic.

You don’t even care for his jeans’s zip scraping your skin.

The thin line between pain and pleasure is so blurred now.

It’s a pathetic shit show of need and urgency. 

You’d walk away from any other guy but Javier is the person you can never have just for yourself and at the same time he is the only one you want. 

He is the knife and the wound at the same time.  

When he asks “Whose pussy is this?” in his deep groaning voice that fucks directly with your brain, you can only reply “yours.”

Digging your nails deeper, biting more, wailing louder but just pleading with him.

You take his shaft in your hand and rub it against you in blind desperation, wetting it with your juices. 

He groans into your ears while his hand reaches for your nipple and his big strong arm holds you close.

You are sitting on his thighs, your legs crossed behind his back.

His fingers pinch your nipple as you don't stop stroking his big throbbing cock.

Just put it in there. You think. I just need to feel your flesh against mine, inside me, claiming me like the rag doll that I am now. 

Stupid bitch trying to have you when you’re damaged like a shattered glass, when you can bring nothing than heat to my body and freezing ice to my heart. 

“Fuck me,” you groan. 

He pushes against your core, entering you with one deep thrust.

Your pussy is weeping so much it doesn’t even hurt.

You clench on him with all the strength you have, chocking his cock with your walls.

“Fuck,” he growls. “You’re gripping me so hard, baby. There’s nothing you want more than this, huh? Me fucking you raw?” 

“Shut up,” you hiss. 

He starts moving, pumping into you as his hand reaches for your clit, brushing it in circles.

You whine, clinging onto his back, your face hidden in the crook of his neck.

You can’t look him in the eye, you can’t face your own shameful reflection in his pupils, you can’t think of anything else than this pleasure firing your body, your limbs, your mind.

Your pussy never gets the memo when it comes to him. She just clenches, and cries and asks for more.

At the verge of your brink, when you’re so utterly overwhelmed you could swear, you’re about to jump out of your skin, you hear it.

It’s the softest whisper on your skin, so low you barely catch the words, “I love you” 

You cry a single tear that slides down the column of his neck, it could be mistaken for a bead of sweat so easily and Javier doesn’t notice it. But it’s there. You’re crying again.

You come, weeping.

Grasping to him like your last shred of hope.

But there’s no hope anymore.

You know you can’t go on like that.

You cried before. You argued before. It’s all useless.

A devastating orgasm shoots through you, leaving you without defense.

It’s the last thing you want but you need to get it over with. 

You lie on the bed, feeling his last twitches inside you, his cum dripping onto your walls, his cock pressing against that spot that belongs only to him.

He lies down on you, gently crushing you with his weight, his sweaty skin against yours, the smell of your orgasm filling your nostrils.

You’re hopeless and breathless. 

He's still inside you, like he doesn't want to leave. 

You know you have to. 

Eventually he shifts, lying on the other side of the bed muttering, “god, you really are something else.” He takes the pack of cigarettes from the nightstand and lights one, taking a long drag.

“I'm not enough,” you want to scream looking at him through the cloud of smoke enveloping him. “Or maybe you're not, for me.”

When he is about to fall asleep, you get up. You pick up your clothes off the floor and put them on silently.

“Where are you going, gatita?” he grunts. 

Does he think he has solved it? Does he think you will forgive him as you did the other times? 

You don’t reply.

"You only ever tell me the truth when you think I won't hear it,” you type on your phone and send it to him, before coming out of the door without turning your back.

You leave him there, wondering, lost as he makes you feel.

There will be two broken hearts. 

You know he loves you and you love him.

He is convinced that he doesn’t deserve you and pushes you away every time you get close to his soul. 

He knows that you see him clearly; that scares him.

You are tired of fighting for the both of you.

You push the elevator button under the gaze of an unsuspecting policeman who urges, “Where are you going, miss?”

“I'm leaving.”

“Do you need someone to accompany you?” 

“No, thank you.”

“Someone could follow you,” he counters.

“No one knows me, you don't have to worry.”

You wait for the elevator, still hoping to see his ruffled raven hair poking out the door, his voice calling to you, his hand tightening on your wrist. 

None of this happens.

The only ones who will follow you are your ghosts.

Tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @almostempty , @probablyreadinsmut , @thundermartini , @gothcsz , @cas-readsandwrites , @harriedandharassed

Archive tag: @pedrostories

If you want to be added or removed just let me know! Thank you very much for reading❤︎

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

ᯓ ᯓ kryptonite kisses ᯓ ᯓ ⋆˙ ✮

clark can't seem to take his lips off of yours for even one second aka your lips are kryptonite, weakening him (but if that what it takes for you to keep you close to him, cest la vie)

tags: fluffyyyy, kisses, you work together, established relationship

FIRST CLARK FICLET!! def not the last bc i am so weak for this man already but i hope you enjoy!

You rub your forehead, the words on the page in your hands blurring together. How is it possible for one writer to make so many mistakes? The red pen tucked on your ear was running on its last legs of ink. You were convinced that the person who wrote this sham of an article deserved to be sent back to the kindergarten. And they also definitely needed glasses because who in their right mind would ever write a sentence as atrocious as “Superman’s strengths lied in his sooper abilities of strong because his face was a zero out of ten.”

“When I catch the person who wrote this, they’ll never ever write again. I won’t let them.” You mutter, taking your red pen and scribbling furiously, nearly ripping the paper out of anger.

A resounding laugh echoed in your office all of a sudden, you looked up to meet the familiar voice's face. Beautiful blue eyes stared back at you, glasses framing his strong nose and handsome face. You smile, setting your pen down as the man walks to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“What are you whispering furiously?” He smirked.

“Only this stupid article titled ‘Superman, only is he really that super?’” You sigh, lifting the paper for the tall man behind you. He lets out another chuckle, taking the papers as he starts to read the obscene article.

His deep voice starts to read the words under his breath, a few amused snorts escaping his thinned lips.

“Go back to elementary school? Such kind words darling.”

You laugh standing up and taking the papers from his hands, throwing them back to your desk. You walk up to him, your chest meeting his as you look up to gaze at the tall man.

“What would you have me say Clark? ‘You can’t write for shit, who spells super as sooper’?” He laughs, hands coming up to your arms, rubbing up and down. Your shoulders loosen under his powerful touch. 

“That’s certainly one way to communicate how whoever wrote that needs an immediate ride to the hospital because I think that they may have a severe concussion,” he hums, “Do ya think they’ll let me fly them to the hospital?”

You laugh, resting your head in the space between his shoulder and neck. You wrap your arms around his broad chest, “I don’t think that’s the best idea, Superman.” You whisper the last part.

Clark looks down at you, smiling at the very ‘secretive’ smile you give him. You made him feel as if he was the only one in the world, the way your bright eyes lit up every time you smiled. On a planet of 7 billion and a universe with who knows how many more species and people, you were the only one to make his chest swell with giddiness and elation.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, moving away from you so he could help you pack your things. You smile as you begin to plan your night in your head. Superhero movies, beer for Clark while you sipped on a nice red Clark bought you, and of course tipsy kisses which would probably lead to much more.

You mindlessly organize the articles you needed to edit on your desk, taking home a few that you could finish later. You smile, thankful it’s time to go home and spend the rest of your night with Clark.

“What are you smiling about over there? Surely the first page of the article I wrote about Superman isn’t that interesting.”

Your eyes snap to the page underneath your fingertips only to see a photo of the Man of Steel with the words “by Clark Kent” underneath the photo. 

You laugh, “sorry Clark, just excited to spend some time with you is all.” You smile, quickly packing up the rest of your things, your heels clacking on the tile floors of your office to catch up with your boyfriend. 

He smiles, taking your briefcase, which Clark noted was worn out and much cuter than the one he used, from your hands. He moves everything he’s holding to his left hand, cradling your hand in his. You smile, holding your coat in your other arm as you two walk to the elevator.

You press the button, letting your hand fall from Clark’s. He immediately pouts, much like a puppy or even Krypto, his shoulders sagging. You laugh at his antics, leaning to kiss him on the cheek. 

Clark’s heart immediately stop, the world seemingly halting as he looks at you, a gentle smile on your lips. He tilts his head to you, pressing his lips to meet yours in a soothing kiss. 

You lean in, your nose catching on his glasses. Your lips danced together, your hand going up to cradle his cheek. Your hand rubbed against his strong jaw as his lips continued to ravage yours. 

He released your lips for a second, his hand shooting up to throw his glasses into his pocket. He throws your bags and his own coat to the ground to wrap his strong arms around your waist, hoisting you up against him. Your hands immediately shoot up to his face, bringing him closer to you. 

Your breaths between kisses grew heavier and heavier, your lips tingling with passion and need as you greedily took Clark’s lips. His hands started to roam across the small of your back, your waist, your ass. His lips greedily latch onto yours, stealing ever sigh and groan escaping your messy pink lips. 

Suddenly the elevator dinged, your head shooting to the open metal door, praying that no one was inside. 

Clark laughs, noting your fear. He sets you down, kissing your nose and cheek before swiftly putting his glasses back on, patting his coat to rid it of any dirt, and grabbing your bags from the floor. You shyly do the same to your own coat, slipping your arms through the velvety sleeves as you walk to the elevator. 

You and Clark both reach to press the garage button at the same time. Your eyes lock on to each other, goofy smiles and chuckles drowning out the music playing of the crackly speakers. 

“Let me take you out on a date darling.” Clark takes your hand, kissing the ring you wore on your middle finger. 

You nod, your hand shaking away from his own. You cradle his face as the elevator continues it’s descent into the abyss of the lower floors.

You lean in once more, kissing his lips. You quickly move away from him though as the elevator doors open once more, sprinting away to your car before Clark could trap your lips once again in heaven. 

As you move hastily to your car, you hear Clark mumble “damn you and your kryptonite kisses.”

You laugh, opening the doors for Clark as he scrambled to get you inside presumably to catch your lips once again in a kiss.

[nickfowlerrr]

once more with feeling

pairing: professor!bucky barnes x curvy!actress!reader (reader is not a student)

warnings: mdni. no smut. flirting. i’d label this as soft horny if that were a thing lol. edward/guy moratz makes a short appearance. not much else really but self-indulgence at its finest. reader is probably minimum twenty five but you can imagine whatever age 21 and up you'd like and it should read alright.

words: 5185

notes: this was originally going to be a professor bucky x reader fic but then i got the idea for auditioning reader and then i thought oh! what if i wrote for my latest obsession - edward/guy! so then it was gonna be guy x actress reader but then i realized i kept picturing bucky and i’ve missed writing for him so then it changed again into professor bucky but now with actress reader and that’s where i landed with it even though i think this would work so well with guy as our guy and truth be told upon rereading myself i did start to picture him instead of bucky ha but ANYWAY this is buckys fic but if you wanna picture guy that works pretty well too 🤭 writing this was a nice distraction from the craziness of life lately and i hope you enjoy it. also just to say it - if you haven’t had the chance to watch a different man yet, you absolutely should. it’s great.

pls lmk your thoughts! i’d love to hear what you think. thank you in advance for reading! as always, comments and reblogs are so appreciated and more than welcome. 🩵

Goosebumps have risen all over your skin as you sit in the uncomfortable auditorium seat. Your legs are freezing thanks to the dress you don; despite its length, the fabric doesn’t provide much warmth and you can’t help but shake just a touch as another chill comes over you. You wrap your arms as tightly as you can around yourself but it too does little to help. The shrug cropped cardigan keeps your arms covered but the cold still chills - even inside the walls of this classroom auditorium.

This was a stupid idea, you accept far too late.

Granted, your planned outfit originally saw you in lined leggings to help fight the cold of the season, but after your little trip down the stairs on your way here - despite having held the skirt of the dress up to avoid such a fall to begin with! - you decided to toss the ripped and coffee soaked leggings and keep on instead of doing what the universe clearly was screaming at you to do: Go back to your apartment, take those god forsaken heeled shoes off, and put on something simpler. You were trying too hard.

Maybe you were. But you couldn’t care. You needed this. And when do you get to wear a dress like this on the daily? It fits the mood and works for the role without being a costume. You may feel a little uncomfortable, you don’t wear dresses out often, but you don’t think you’ve really made the wrong choice.

You were last on the audition sign in sheet so thankfully no one would be left to watch you the way you’d just studied the twelve other girls reading for this role.

They all dressed casually, had book bags with them, it was obvious they all attended this school. And here you were! A college dropout, overdressed in comparison, and clearly out of place.

Ah, you’re getting too in your head again. Always looking for a reason why something won’t go your way. But you’ve been working on that, and calling yourself out seems to help.

You take a deep breath as the last girl clears the stage and the casting table speaks amongst themselves.

You haven’t been able to see any of their faces, only the backs of their heads. You aren’t sure if there are students or faculty at the table with them but you figure it doesn’t really matter.

The casting call said all were welcome to audition - student or not. The location was only at the college because of renovations on the theatre in the city.

…It did say that, right? You’re not auditioning for a college show, right?

Your heart begins to pick up speed as you worry. Did you read it wrong? Were you making things up? You scramble for your phone and as you pull up the email the city theatre sent out last week, your name is called.

You don’t have the chance to reread it before you shut your phone off and tuck it away in your bag, placing it on your seat as you stand. You take a breath as you smile as confidently and friendly as you can and make your way down to the stage.

“That’s me,” you say as they watch you.

Finally you’re able to see their faces and as you make eye contact with each of them you can feel them sizing you up. Three people sit at the folding table before the stage and one man sits a bit further back in the second row of auditorium seats. He has yet to look up from his book and you realize you hadn’t noticed him at all earlier.

A younger man at the casting table, no more than 30 if you’d had to guess, tilts his head as he watches you ascend the few steps to the stage.

“So,” he states your name again, “do you attend classes here?”

“No,” you answer with a small shake of your head, “no I’m not a student.” You work to maintain your easy smile as you feel all eyes on you.

The man nods and turns to speak to the man still sitting and reading behind him. “Well, Mr. Barnes,” he gets his attention finally, “no pressure to stay. All the students have been seen, you’re free to go. This is the last audition for the day then we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Until tomorrow when you’ll take over my auditorium again,” he rumbles lowly as he stares at the man who is still looking at him.

You swallow hard as you do the same. His eyes are bright despite his obvious annoyance, his dark hair pushed back as he tries to keep it out of his face, only a couple silver strands shining through the dark chestnut brown; the stubble that covers his jaw adds to his air of gruffness - the spot of gray near his chin adding to his appeal. He’s tall, you gather as your eyes move down his body, his long legs. He wears dark slacks and a baby blue button up dress shirt tucked into his pants. The sleeves are rolled up his forearms and the top couple buttons of his shirt are undone, giving just a hint at his chest hair and the chain that hangs around his neck.

You realize you’re staring as you hear the voice of the younger man responding to Mr. Barnes, but you don’t hear what he’s saying as you force yourself to look away. Your eyes blink up and you’re caught. His blue eyes are on you, brows furrowed and his expression unreadable. You quickly look away and pretend you weren’t doing a thing as you wait for them to give you the go ahead.

Some more words are exchanged as they seem to try and appease the man whose classroom they are in. You’re not entirely paying attention to the conversation as you run your lines in your head for the millionth time.

You know the words. You know the part. You’re not worried, necessarily. But you haven’t booked a single thing in the past eight months and to say that hasn’t shaken your confidence in yourself even just a little bit would be a lie. But you’re getting back to your roots. You’ve missed the theatre. It was and will forever be your first love. This is your first stage audition in a while though, and your first experience with this theatre. Since moving to the city, you swore you’d audition for one of their shows but just never got around to it as your focus shifted to film. This is your time now. Is it going exactly how you’d envisioned it’d go? Well, you’re standing in a university campus auditorium instead of the stage at the Fervent Fires Theatre to audition, so, no. But that’s okay! You have a good feeling about this. And as you stand here, you feel more and more relaxed. It’s kind of bringing you back to your high school days - the annoyed teacher having to share the auditorium with the annoying theatre people. It’s funny.

And after seeing the other girls audition you really don’t feel too stressed. Most of them were late teens auditioning for Elmire. Despite the fact you played her in your late teens, too, that was simply because the production was full of other teens and young adults. You’re definitely more of the right fit even now. You’ve seen some of the theatre's productions before and who and how they tend to cast. Granted this is second day auditions and everyone else who has been seen might be in your league, but you won’t dwell on who you may be compared to - and you kind of needed the confidence boost today.

You take a breath and remind yourself you know what you’re doing. Whether you get a callback or not, just being on a stage again, acting in front of people again, you’ve needed this. It’s good.

You come back to yourself, out of your head and more at ease and hear Mr. Barnes as he speaks.

“And I appreciate being ‘free to go’ but I’m fine right where I am. Seeing as how this is my classroom, I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

“Oh, no, of course not. I just meant that if you wanted to go, you were free to, are free to, do, ya know, whatever you want. We were under the impression you were required to be here as a faculty member during student’s auditions, but, uhm, yes, of course. We aren’t trying to push you out or anything,” he smiles before nervously clearing his throat and turning back to face the table. He shuffles around the papers before him and you see him pull your headshot and resume to the front of his stack, grabbing his notes and pen before turning his gaze to you.

“Alright, sorry about that. You can start whenever you’re ready.”

Their eyes are all on you. The casting table, and the man behind them. He’s set his book down next to him, has his hands folded in his lap as he sits back in his seat, casual and intent all at once, while his brilliant blue gaze is set right on you.

-

The audition is a blur, it goes by so fast. As you thank them for their time, you’re surprised when they offer you more information they hadn’t given out before.

“Callbacks will be next Tuesday and they’ll be at the actual theatre. We’ve been under construction all month but should be good to go next week. We appreciate you taking the time to come audition here, we know it’s a little out of the way in comparison.”

“Not a problem at all, it actually isn’t too far from me,” you smile.

“Good, well, keep a look out for an email with more details and…” the director on the end of the table looks up to you as if she’s catching herself from revealing a secret, then sighs, “ah, screw it, you’re definitely on the callback list,” she smiles, “we’ll see you there.”

“Amazing,” you breathe, “I’m looking forward to it. Thank you again, so much,” you can’t help your grin as you walk closer to the steps of the stage.

The casting table packs their things as you walk past them back to where you were sitting before. You’d left your bag and half drinken coffee so you make to go get it. As you pass the first few rows, you feel Barnes’ stare again, this time only fleeting as his name is called from the young man who spoke to him before.

“This table?”

“You can leave it,” he states, sounding bored.

“Okay. Thank you again for letting us use the stage, we really do appreciate it.”

You don’t hear him reply as you hear the casting team leave out the door.

The realization you’re the last one left intruding on this man has you hurrying up.

Until you hear his voice again.

“You were good.”

You turn at the compliment, wide eyed as you see him coming closer up the steps. Your heart seems to skip a beat and you wonder what he’s doing until he bends down a few rows before you and picks up an empty coffee cup someone must have left earlier.

You’re caught a bit off guard but force your mouth to work after a second, “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he nods as he stands back up straight. You watch as he tosses it easily into the trash can at the bottom of the stairs before he turns back to look at you again.

You were right. He’s tall, and somehow even more attractive than you’d originally thought now that you’re seeing him even closer.

“I’m no director, but from what I’ve seen yesterday and today, if I was casting, you’d be it.”

“Oh,” you feel your face warm despite how cold the auditorium still is, “that’s,” you laugh a little under your breath, “that’s really nice to hear, thank you.” You have to look down as his gaze is just a little too much for you right now. You don’t need to fall down another set of stairs today and if you let yourself get lost in those ocean blue eyes of his, you’re almost certain you will.

“You seem more shy off stage than you do on,” he comments, taking another step up the stairs, another step closer to you.

“Yeah,” you titter nervously, “um, I’m an actor, ‘m pretty good at faking it when I have to.”

He raises his brow at your unintentional innuendo and immediately you catch yourself. You feel like you’re on fire and you see something in his eyes, almost like he’s working himself up to reply as he takes the last step he needs to be on the same level as you.

“You fake it a lot?”

Your lips move as if you have words to speak but nothing comes out as he stares at you and you stare back.

God, he smells good. And he’s so tall. And muscular. And pretty.

You blink as you try to break yourself free from this trance.

Is he hitting on you? You don’t even know this man’s name and yet there’s a fluttering in your tummy at the way he’s eyeing you. His gaze roves down your body, over your soft curves that are accentuated by the corset dress hugging you. His tongue darts out as he wets his lips seemingly without thought and that familiar desire that’s been plaguing you the last six months since your breakup has you fidgeting where you stand. He’s so effortlessly hot and the thought of getting on your knees right here and now for him hits you out of nowhere and only burns you further. Wow, where did that come from?

You haven’t been with anyone since you ended things with Nick, and you may be horny, but you’re not desperate… Are you?

You swallow hard and extend your hand to him, offering him your name as you do. He smiles with a deft chuckle, looking from your hand back up to your eyes before he takes your hand in his, seeming to ease some tension in him you hadn’t noticed before. Maybe not tension, maybe anxiousness? But no, that couldn’t be it. His smile is so easy there’s no way the word confident wouldn’t be in your top choices to describe him.

“James,” he supplies as you shake his hand. His big, warm hand that you can’t help but imagine the weight of if he were to place it on your waist. He squeezes you just a bit and another wave of your sudden desire rolls through you.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, sounding a lot more sultry than you ever intended. His lips quirk and he takes a second before he responds, again, you get the funny feeling he’s working himself up to say what he does.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asks bluntly, waiting for your nod before he continues. “I saw you staring at me when you were on stage.”

Okay. Ha. Wow. You’re so hot you wouldn’t be surprised if steam was coming off your cheeks. God, you could just explode from your mortification at his words. Is he really calling you out like this, right to your face? Your cheeks are burning and you don’t know what to say. You suck your lips in your nervousness as you inhale a breath through your nose, letting your lips go as you suck your teeth when you release them. You look down as your tongue runs along the edges of your teeth. A nervous habit when you’re at a loss for words as you let out a breathy titter at being caught and having it brought up.

You hear a light laugh from him before your breath is stilled when he gently touches your chin, his touch warm as he tilts your face up so you’re looking at him once again.

You’re stalled in a sort of awe as his eyes seem to twinkle at you.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” he assures you, his voice smooth as silk, “I was staring back.”

The soft smirk on his lips lights you up as you unthinkingly wet your own. In any imagined scenario you would never have thought you’d be so receptive to a stranger coming on this strongly - so boldly and up front. But here you are. Receptive as hell. There’s something about him, about his approach, that has you even more attracted to him than you were at first glance…er, stare. His voice, his attitude, the way he’s looking at you. As if he knows exactly what he wants, and he’s going for it. As if the very thing he wants right now, is you.

“Your eyes alone are captivating, but there’s something else about you,” he muses, “you got on stage and it was like I couldn’t look away.”

You almost have to force yourself to take a breath before you can talk. “The dress,” you quip with a small shrug.

“The dress,” he looks down at your body once more, a funny fluttering setting your core alight under his gaze, “well it definitely helped. It’s nice,” he compliments, his hand reaching to touch the fabric and grazing your hip. At his touch his eyes flick up to gauge your reaction and, seeing what you’re sure is a dreamy like haze, he goes on. “Look, I have to teach a class here in half an hour so I’m just gonna cut to the chase,” he says, a hint of an east coast accent slipping in and becoming clearer in his voice as he speaks, “I think you’re gorgeous. And I think you might think I’m not so bad myself,” he half smiles as his lips twitch. “I know this is forward,” his eyes meet yours once more, “and there’s no expectation here.”

Your brows raise despite yourself as you wait for him to go on. He licks his lips again and takes a step closer to you.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?”

You inhale sharply as you pause, your lips parting with the breath.

Weirdly some far off part of you was kind of expecting that was where this was leading, but in the very same breath, you really were not expecting him to say that. Your mouth goes dry and your mind goes blank as you try and process his words. You know your immediate, no thought involved answer. But surely, this calls for some thought, doesn’t it?... It’s not like anonymous sex isn’t a thing, it’s just never been your thing. But you do have the rest of the day free and you’re riding on a kind of confidence high at the moment, and god is this man tempting.

A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he stares at you, studying you and waiting for your yes or no.

“You do this a lot?” you ask instead.

He breathes a soft chuckle, “Never, actually,” he shakes his head, “but I’ve been out of the game for a while, recently been told I need to put myself out there, and I guess I don’t really know how to be anything other than direct these days.”

“Hm,” you look into his bright eyes, a sincerity there you don’t find in people often these days, “I guess I can appreciate that.”

“Is that a yes?”

Fuck it, you think. You’ve been pushing past your normal comfort zones all day. What’s a little sex with a hot stranger? …Right? You’re seconds away from saying yes, how could you not, you egg yourself on, but you figure you should make this as clear as you can. Not that his answer has much chance of changing yours.

“Is this just sex? Or…” you trail off.

“At the very present moment,” he specifies, “just sex.”

You nod in easy understanding, readily taking it for what it is, but he continues on.

“And if you wanna leave it at that, we’ll leave it at that, but if you’re interested in dinner later tonight, too, I’d be glad to buy. Pick you up and everything.”

“Oh, what a gentleman,” you simper with a titter you can’t suppress. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Mhm,”

“Sex?”

You nod with a smirk as he closes the gap between your bodies.

“Right now?” he adds again, getting the same response as you smile against his lips when he leans in closer.

He kisses you. You’re immediately lost to him as his lips touch yours, his stubble tickling your soft skin. It’s surprisingly tentative, slow and soft at first, like he’s testing the waters between you. After a long moment, he decides to pull away, not too far, only parting for a split second. You're struck by the fleeting feeling of his lips being on yours, it steals your breath as you mindlessly lean into him immediately looking for more. Your eyes meet again, there’s a glimmer of shared recognition and you know he feels the same, and then his lips are on yours even more hotly. You’ve always thought people were dramatic when they spoke about having sparks with someone, that it wasn’t a real experience, just hyperbole… exaggeration, but you’re realizing now you just hadn’t ever experienced it before. That spark, that zing, it is real. It must be, because as crazy and sudden as it is, you think you have it here.

His hand comes to hold your head, keeping you close as he leads you. You might be embarrassed by the way you melt into him if you were thinking of anything other than how good his touch is and how perfect his lips seem to meld with yours.

You’re filled with a thrilling excitement you don’t know you can compare to anything you’ve felt before. This is new and nice and as the kiss deepens, your nerves turn from jittery butterflies in your belly to a smoldering desire that burns lower and lower. His firm body is pressed to your soft one and his free hand falls to the tail of your back, holding you closer and keeping you there against him before his hand snakes to your hip, wandering up your curves as he feels as much of you as he can. Your own hands are against his stomach as you chase his kiss, fingers fisting the fabric of his button down shirt.

James nips at your bottom lip and you give him entry without a pause, his tongue slipping in your mouth as he kisses you fervently, like something out of a movie. You’ve never been in a situation like this, and you can say with certainty you’ve never been kissed like this either.

You let your hands slide up his torso until you find the first button. As if you’ve done it a million times, you easily begin the tedious task of unbuttoning each one - though you take your time, not wanting to break any as you’re still caught in his hold, still lost in his kiss.

You hate having to break away but you need a breath and despite the loss of contact with your lips, James’ continues to travel along your skin. From your cheek to your jaw and down your neck as you angle yourself to allow him more access, all the while your fingers do their work and your breathing turns heavier. Once the buttons are undone you pull the tails of his shirt from his pants. His hands are still on you, feeling you as he kisses your delicate skin.

Your hands stabilize yourself by holding his sides as he yanks you closer to him still. He’s much thicker than he looked, you realize as you touch him. Your hands wander up his back, wanting to get his undertank off as soon as humanly possible so you can really feel the muscles there.

He brings an arm around your waist and his other hand glides down your back until he gets to your bottom, groaning in your neck as he squeezes you there.

“Buck?”

A loud voice breaks the trance the two of you have been under and causes you to jump as you hear the doors closing and footsteps coming around the side staircase, bringing a different man into view.

You’re startled, and James gallantly moves you just behind him despite your still fully clothed state. You’re still grateful though, you know you must look a little mussed, your cardigan falling down your arms and James’ undone shirt hardly producing any air of innocence about what was unfolding just moments ago.

“Oh, sorry,” the man starts with inquiring eyes, looking between the both of you. He’s just as tall as James and has eyes just as blue. He’s clean shaven, though and not as bulky. Still, they look like they could be brothers. “Professor?” he asks, “Am I interrupting something?”

“She’s not a student, Guy,” James responds, annoyance clear as day in his voice. “I’m not Drysdale.”

“Right,” Guy says on a light, breathy laugh, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He seems uncomfortable at the mention. You see him as he eyes James’ still undone shirt.

“What do you need, Guy?” James asks firmly, getting his eyes back on him.

“It can wait,” he brushes off, “just wanted to say thanks for letting the theatre use the stage again, we appreciate it.” His eyes flick to you and he seems to make a connection. “Elmire?”

Your eyes meet his in surprise, “Um, yeah,” you nod with a small smile, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, arms crossed over your chest.

“Tartuffe,” he gestures to himself with a smile of his own. You suddenly recognize him and take a step forward.

“Wait, did I see you in Death of a Salesman the other month?”

“Yes,” he smiles even more sincerely now, “yes, it’s the year of the classics at the theatre,” he chuckles.

“Right, yeah, you were incredible. Really great performance,” you compliment him.

“Thank you very much. I heard good things just now about your audition, I’m assuming you’re -,”

James interrupts Guy by supplying your name himself, causing you both to look at him. You fight a smile at the sound of it on his lips.

“Well then,” Guy looks back toward you, clearing his throat a bit, “I will be seeing you at your callback,” he turns to James, “and I will be seeing you in the office later.”

He takes a step back, “It was nice to meet you, and thank you again, Bucky.”

The name catches your attention as Guy walks off and James turns back to face you.

He sighs as he looks at you, reaching for your hand which you allow him to take.

His touch is deceptively delicate and you can’t pretend you don’t like it.

“Bucky?” you question. He meets your gaze and gives a sheepish half smile.

“Nickname.”

You nod, “Ah. Makes sense,” you lilt, holding his eye. “Suits you.”

“You can call me Bucky if you’d like. Like the way it sounds when you say it.”

You huff a laugh, looking away. He continues on, “I’m sorry for that interruption, I uhm,” he let’s go of your hand and moves to start buttoning his shirt back up, “I think we’re gonna have to try this again later,” he pauses, glancing back to you, “if you’re still-,”

“I am,” you smile, cutting him off.

He finishes tucking in his shirt and then immediately takes another step closer to you.

His eyes are scrutinizing in the best way as he takes your face gently in his hands, your own coming to hold his wrists; his bright gaze shining into your own. It feels intimate but strangely…right.

“I guess I should be thanking Guy,” he muses. Your brows furrow in unvoiced questioning. His lips quirk at the face you make. “I was taking the advice of someone I’d never normally take advice from being so forward with you. Honestly, it’s not really me,” he admits, admiring the soft smile of your own gracing your lips at his words. “I’m more of the courting type.” You laugh brightly at his choice of words as he smirks. “Old fashioned, I know.”

“No, that’s..That’s good. More my speed. I was uh, stepping a little ways out of my comfort zone with this myself.”

The want that had been burning between you two wasn’t exactly boiling over at the moment, but despite the space between you now, it was still there... Call it a low simmer.

He pulls you closer as you wet your lips and his nose brushes yours. You’re certain he’s about to kiss you and your eyes flutter shut but instead, Bucky pulls away. He lets you go as he bites his own lip and you both hear the opening of the door again before you hear multiple footsteps follow in.

“My class is starting soon. But,” he gets his phone from his back pocket and hands it to you, “we’re still on for dinner?”

You take his phone with a demure smile, feeling somewhat grateful for the shift in direction, and send yourself a text message, saving your contact in his phone before handing it back, his fingers grazing your own. “I’d really like that.”

Students begin to file in and get seated around the auditorium as you stand with Bucky.

You turn to grab your bag and your coffee cup, then face him again. You glance around and notice you’re still relatively alone, most of the students have sat toward the middle of the auditorium, and no eyes seem to be on you, but you keep your voice low anyway.

“And I do get it if you really want to go slow here, but, if you want to…ya know, try this,” you raise your brows, hoping to communicate your meaning, “again, tonight, I’d be up for that, too.”

He nods, a schoolboy smile on his lips as he admires you.

Your lips twitch with a smile of their own, “I’ll see you later.”

You feel a renewed giddiness as you turn from him and he returns your ‘bye’. His eyes are on you as you make your way down the steps and follow you until he can’t any further. You liked the feeling.

Call you crazy, but you think you just might be developing feelings for Bucky already as it is, despite not knowing much more than he seems to be a kind man, gentle, confident, insanely attractive…. You wouldn’t be surprised if this dinner solidified those feelings and more, even further. You’re looking forward to talking with him, really getting to know him.

You may not be one for sex with a stranger, but sex after the first date doesn’t sound too out there for you... Especially not when that date is with Bucky.

[diamond-reads]

KAE YLANGELEGY WHEN I FIND YOU.......

but also. thank you. i got the notification for this while i was having a really really shitty day at work, and knowing that i had your writing to come home to made really was a light at the end of the tunnel. and so i must annotate this fic bc it makes me HAPPY and YOU make me happy:

Click.

tara diamonddaze01 #1 lover of onomatopoeia is HERE and i am already in love. the things i would do to freeze every moment spent with jeonghan.... print them and frame them and reminisce about memories.....anyways i digress its literally the FIRST WORD when will i learn how to RELAX

Your phone at eye-level; its camera, trained on him. There you are.

your camera is trained on him, but jeonghan is trained on you. a beautiful metaphor for how, in your world, he’s the subject of every picture—every thought, every moment. But in his, you’re the only thing in focus. and THEN the "there you are." really hits home - he sees you. i love the idea that the real you begins where the camera ends

This is how he knows he loves you: Your laughter always felt like a small victory. Even before, he’d crack jokes in staff meetings and his eyes would immediately go to gauge your reaction.  

say it with me: i LOVE love. and i LOVE this assertion that jeonghan doesn't want your laughter to feel like he's funny (he knows he's funny) but he wants it to feel like he's yours. i love the idea that he collects these victories, these pieces of you like a hoarder. it's subtle, this love - the kind that sneaks up on you in fluorescent-lit rooms and powerpoints presentations; the kind that falls in love with the way your eyes crinkle when he tries to make you smile.

I love you, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!

I love this line, I love the heartfelt emotions that just...sneak up on you. the declarations of love that are sudden, that catch you off guard and make you laugh.

siderbar: oh ur so evil for the beautiful soul mention...... but the lyrics "I don’t want another pretty face / I don’t want just anyone to hold" play so BEAUTIFULLY off the line about laughter being a small victory. jeonghan treasures your laughter - something as intangible and as unique as your soul; jeonghan doesn't try to impress, but the small victories are a connection to you, and you laughter is vulnerable, real, and uniquely yours

i could wax poetic about song lyrics and your writing forever but anyways i digress...

At the twenty-minute mark, Jeonghan finally huffs, “I’m ignoring you.”  “Hm?” you say distractedly, and he resist the urge to chuck your phone into the nearby lake.  “I said,” he repeats. “I’m ignoring you.”  You glance up at him, unamused. “You are literally talking to me,” you note.  “Well, I was ignoring you before that.”  “Were you?”  “Yes. You didn’t notice, so I thought I’d inform you.” 

kae you write your characters with so much love - jeonghan is so fucking ENDEARING i want to put him in my pocket. oh yoon "must-have-the-last-word" jeonghan how i adore you so

Jeonghan is supposed to be sulking, but that small word— we— has him fighting down a smile. It’s his account, his digital footprint, but you’re the mastermind. You’re the one behind the man, the myth, the legend. 

i'm so :((( no one TOUCH ME. his reaction is so.... on the surface, jeonghan is the charismatic, untouchable legend, but beneath it all, you’re the one grounding him, supporting him, making sure the myth doesn’t outshine the man. you’re the quiet, steady presence behind the scenes, and jeonghan loves you for it in ways he probably doesn’t even know how to express fully.... i want to kiss him....

“Get some photos of your actual boyfriend,” he grumbles.

sulky pouty BABY come HERE let me KISS IT BETTER!

siderbar: i had never listened to zild before this but oh my god i love this song. my fav lyric so far: "Gagawa ako ng kanta, / Na ikaw ang pamagat" ("I will make a song/With you as the title"). I feel like this mirrors the line "It’s his account, his digital footprint, but you’re the mastermind." - you are the one behind his image. your presence in jeonghan's life makes him who his is; he may be the “legend” in public, but in private, you’re the one crafting the story behind the scenes. this is mirrored so well in Lia by the sentiment of putting someone at the forefront of a creation. oh to love someone to the point of creation....

He didn’t want a civil breakup. He’d much rather go out kicking and screaming than have something amicable.

oh jeonghan.... here comes my character analysis because kae writes like honey and i am drawn in like a fly:

idk i feel like this jeonghan just thrives on intensity and raw emotion - the imagery of a breakup being "civil" feels so foreign to him because he’s the type who prefers things to be messy, uncontained, and loud. he doesn’t want the quiet closure; he wants something that feels like it mattered, something that leaves a mark. there’s this craving for validation, to feel like the end of something—whether it’s a relationship, a chapter, or a part of himself—needs to be remembered. If it’s civil, then was it even real? Was it even worth the effort?

re: “kicking and screaming” - he wants passion, he wants fight, he wants to know that you two struggled for it. it's like this deep-rooted need to avoid anything that feels too easy, too comfortable. he’s the type to throw himself into the storm of emotions, to feel the thunder roll through his chest, even if it means suffering. because in the suffering, there’s proof of how much it all meant. A quiet goodbye just wouldn’t feel earned for someone like this. he wants to be remembered

if i got this wrong kae pls ignore me. LMAO. ONWARDS!

Jeonghan tugs at your hand and shakes his head. Focus on me, he’s wordlessly saying, and for once, you do.

what a beautiful line - for someone who has spent the entire relationship looking over her shoulder, making sure no one is watching, it speaks volumes to finally lay it all to rest, to see him, to just be.

You squeeze Jeonghan’s hand reassuringly. “I’m not throwing anything away. I’m just compromising.”  “I don’t want you to have to compromise anything for me.”  “Compromise is part of a grownup relationship, Hannie. It’s a good compromise.” 

[sobbing violently] something something to be loved is to be changed...something something to love is to compromise...something something to love is to make space for growth.... no one look at me ever again.

sidebar: oh my GOD tum se hi mention you want me DEAD okay!!!!! one of my favorite lyrics from the song are "Main tera sarmaya hoon" which literally translates to "i have become your property" but stylistically it means "I am because of you". something about that line + this jeonghan makes my heart break in ways i didn't know was even humanly possible. there's this the profound sense of belonging and dependence that the lyric evokes. it’s about becoming something through the other person, because of them—there’s this raw vulnerability in it that makes my chest aches. Jeonghan knows he is because of you, he's so intertwined with you in a way that makes him feel whole.

When he goes to kiss you, it bears none of the threatening front that he’s trying to put up. It’s a slow, sweet thing. A glimmer lighting up his cotton sheets.  He only pulls away when he can no longer physically manage to keep kissing you. There’s the beginning of a grin on his face as his breaths come out in short pants, as his eyes stay closed. He’s savoring the moment, trying to remind himself how damn lucky he is even if the cost involves running his own SNS accounts henceforth.  But then you’re laughing, your fingers threading through his hair. You tug Jeonghan back down despite the fact that you’re just as breathless, and his lips curl into a full-on smile when they meet yours. 

I apologize i have nothing intelligent to say here. my brain is broken and i am in tears because DEAR GOD i am in love with this man!!!!!!!!!

tldr; kae you have, and i kid you not, my whole entire heart. every character you write is like a thread of gold, and you weave together tapestries of love and life that make me feel. you stitch warmth and light into the fabric of the worlds you create, and when you step back to look at it, there’s this masterpiece that’s almost too beautiful to touch—but you do, and it feels like it was always meant to be held. The way you turn even the smallest, quietest moments into something that glows is like witnessing magic in motion—everything you touch turns to gold, and I feel lucky that i am allowed to feel its glow.

so disconnected 📵 jeonghan x reader.

if jeonghan's 'boyfriend material' posts are on point, well— you can thank his girlfriend.

★ jeonghan x social media manager!reader. ★ word count: 2.6k ★ genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff!!!, txt's soobin is mentioned, down bad!jeonghan, jealous!jeonghan. some smau elements. not proofread; we go out swinging, baby. ★ footnotes: "kae if i wake up to a single shred of jeonghan on ur page..." ¡sorpresa, @diamonddaze01! no further notes, your honor.

🎧 now playing: disconnected by 5 seconds of summer — i admit i'm a bit of a fool for playing by the rules, but i've found my sweet escape when i'm alone with you.

Click.

Jeonghan hasn’t even looked up and yet he already knows what he’ll find when he does. Sure enough, when he shifts his weight onto his other foot and glances away from the TikTok he’d been watching— there you are. 

He wishes he could see your beautiful face. Alas, it’s obstructed by the sight that he’s grown used to associating with you. 

Your phone at eye-level; its camera, trained on him. 

“Yah.” His high-pitched bid to feign annoyance is a futile one. Everybody knows that Jeonghan could never be truly irked by you, no matter how masterfully you pushed his buttons sometimes. 

After clicking away for a couple more minutes, you finally lower your phone. 

There you are. 

Jeonghan swears he’s not a sap, not what those people call ‘simps’. But something about your smile always makes him a little weak in the knees, makes him want to be The Best Boyfriend In The World, bar none. 

He gestures for you to come closer. Once you’re within reach, Jeonghan is already wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in.

“Don’t do that,” you snipe as he brings you into his chest. “We’re in public!”

Jeonghan can’t hide the way his eyes roll. “I don’t care. This isn’t public. It’s the parking lot of your apartment building,” he says dryly. 

“Still public.” 

“Still don’t care.” 

You go to shove at Jeonghan’s chest. He responds by tightening his hold on you, a sound of protest rising from the back of his throat. 

“C’mon, just a minute.” He buries his face in the top of your head, breathing in the soothing scent of your shampoo. It makes something in his chest flutter. “I’ll let you go, just— give me a minute, sweetheart.” 

He can sense that your acquiescence is begrudging, but he takes it nonetheless. A win is a win, he thinks smugly as he takes the opportunity to hug you a little tighter. 

It’s been three months since you finally agreed to try dating Jeonghan, though you had insisted that it be kept on the down low. Something about decorum, discretion. Workplace violations? Jeonghan doesn’t really remember; he had been a little too excited at the prospect of finally being yours that he wouldn’t have minded any condition in the world. 

The past weeks have unironically been some of the best in Jeonghan’s life, though there were probably some things he could do without. 

“It’s my day off, you know,” he mumbles into your hair, “which means it should also be your day off.” 

You giggle, and the force of it has your shoulders slightly shaking against Jeonghan’s chest. 

This is how he knows he loves you: Your laughter always felt like a small victory. Even before, he’d crack jokes in staff meetings and his eyes would immediately go to gauge your reaction.  

He liked making you laugh. He liked being the reason behind your smiles. And, God, did he like you. 

“Let me think about it.” There’s a hint of teasing in your voice, followed by a little ‘hmmm’ of faux thoughtfulness. 

He’s about to bite back at you when he feels your hand at his hip, somewhat leaning into his embrace, and he instead channels his energy into holding back a dreamy sigh. You go on, “No, I don’t think so. Go pose by the wall for another picture.” 

Jeonghan leans back a bit, just enough so that you can see his furrowed eyebrows as he whines, “But I’m Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!”

The title is a new one. Five days recent, in fact, and Jeonghan is hoping it will cut him some slack. 

“Okay, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan,” you say without missing a beat. “Go pose by the wall.” 

Jeonghan peels himself away from you with a grumble. He knows he’s acting a bit like an overgrown child— stomping as he walks, pouting when he leans— but he trusts that you’ll find it endearing. 

You pull out your phone’s camera app. Jeonghan is ready to frown the entire way through, maybe sass you that you only told him to pose by the wall but you didn’t say how he should look. 

But then, instead of “One, two, three…”, you call out something else entirely. 

“I love you, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!”

He can’t help it. 

He laughs, and you click away.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ Jesse McCartney - Beautiful Soul

jeonghaniyoo_n hang up the telephone and just be here with me Liked by pledis_boos, vernonline, and 1,932,049 others View all 2,109 comments

One pro of dating your social media manager, Jeonghan would argue, is all the ‘vacations’ that the two of you can go on. You’re there for every tour stop, every concert, and Jeonghan absolutely revels in the hour or two he can steal away with you. 

If only he could get you to stop working. 

He knows that you’re technically on the clock more often than not. Managing an idol’s social media presence was no small feat, and your entire shtick was about making Jeonghan look as desirable as possible on SNS. You’ve been doing a terrific job so far, if his steady rise in followers was anything to go by. 

Still. Jeonghan has been attempting to give you the cold shoulder for the past 15 minutes. Attempting, because you don’t even seem to notice that he’s gone quiet— too busy on your phone to pay him any heed. 

He shoves his hands into his pockets and clears his throat. He doesn’t even have to glance at your screen; he knows you’re probably on Lightroom, fine tuning the press photos of him from earlier this morning. 

At the twenty-minute mark, Jeonghan finally huffs, “I’m ignoring you.” 

“Hm?” you say distractedly, and he resist the urge to chuck your phone into the nearby lake. 

“I said,” he repeats. “I’m ignoring you.” 

You glance up at him, unamused. “You are literally talking to me,” you note. 

“Well, I was ignoring you before that.” 

“Were you?” 

“Yes. You didn’t notice, so I thought I’d inform you.” 

The beleaguered sigh you let out is not a new thing. Jeonghan has been on the receiving end of your exasperation for as long as he’s known you. 

At least there’s a hint of guilt on your expression as you tuck away your phone. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Everybody’s posting follower ranking listicles since it’s the end of the year. I wanted to see where we were placing.” 

Jeonghan is supposed to be sulking, but that small word— we— has him fighting down a smile. It’s his account, his digital footprint, but you’re the mastermind. You’re the one behind the man, the myth, the legend. 

He’s down so bad for you that it’s not even funny anymore. 

“And?” he prods, his earlier chagrin smoothed out into something that sounds a lot more like resigned affection. “How’s it looking?” 

The frustration that takes over your expression makes Jeonghan want to coo. It’s nothing short of a miracle that he manages to hold himself back. 

“We still haven’t beat out Choi Soobin.” You frown like the other idol has personally wronged you by having a higher follower count. “His boyfriend material photos are too damn good.” 

“His what?”

You whip out your phone. Jeonghan watches with growing incredulity as you pull up Instagram, and he’s less than pleased that user page.soobin is already one of your more recently searched accounts. 

When you shove your phone underneath Jeonghan’s nose, he’s treated to the sight of Soobin’s feed. “Boyfriend material photos,” you double down, like having a visual might somehow explain things away. 

Jeonghan snatches your phone from you. “I heard you the first time,” he says irritably. “But what does it mean?” 

“It means that he looks like somebody’s boyfriend,” you shoot back. 

Oh, Jeonghan does not like that. 

He doesn’t care if it’s just a term for a type of photo. The thought of you perceiving anyone else as ‘boyfriend material’ makes a muscle in his jaw tick. 

“Do you think,” he says coolly, keeping his eyes trained on your screen, “he looks like ‘boyfriend material’?” 

“I mean, yeah—” 

You’ve barely gotten to the end of your sentence before Jeonghan is handing you back your phone. “Where are you going?” you call out as he marches a couple of paces away. 

He looks equal part determined and peeved when he turns to face you. You have your eyebrows arched upward, but he’s more focused on making sure his good side is angled towards you. 

“Get some photos of your actual boyfriend,” he grumbles.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ ZILD - Lia

jeonghaniyoo_n we put the world away Liked by xuminghao_o, min9yu_k, and 1,000,289 others View all 2,109 comments

The day you tell Jeonghan about your plans of resigning, his first thought is Well, that was good while it lasted.

His attempt at being unaffected is a shaky one. You can tell by the way he holds his paper cup just a little too tightly, the way he keeps smoothing out invisible wrinkles on his coat. His poorly concealed distress makes your expression soften, which is somehow worse.

He didn’t want a civil breakup. He’d much rather go out kicking and screaming than have something amicable.

And he most especially didn’t want to be broken up with in some random café in Tokyo. He has half a mind to ask why you couldn’t have waited until the two of you were back home. 

Jeonghan swallows hard, like it might somehow help him swallow the panic simmering in the pit of his stomach. 

“Good for you,” he finally manages to respond. “You’re overworked here, anyway.” 

“That’s not the reason why I’m leaving.” 

Jeonghan hates how calm you look. The two of you had watched— and judged— one too many dramas, and so he’d imagined a breakup with you would be something like that. A rain-soaked street, choice words that neither of you could take back. 

Not you stirring sugar into your coffee like this is not a relationship-defining conversation. 

When Jeonghan doesn’t respond, you continue. Your voice goes a touch softer, and he’s struck with the fear that you’re trying to let him down gently. 

“I’m resigning because of you, Hannie.” That nickname— the one that once felt like a Daesang in its own right, when you first bestowed it on him— now makes Jeonghan’s heart feel like lead. 

“Because of me,” he repeats. 

His mouth is dry. His hands are clammy. He’s thirty seconds away from getting on his knees and begging you to stay, the rest of the café’s patrons be damned. 

Your next words are spoken like an unshakable truth. “Because I love you.” 

You— 

The look on Jeonghan’s face must be priceless; you start to laugh, and the sound of it eases some of Jeonghan’s fraying nerves. 

“I love you, and I want to be with you. Properly.” Your lips purse for a moment. “Well, as properly as being with an idol will allow, anyway. At least I won’t have to worry about getting called in by HR if I’m working someplace else.” 

Workplace violations. Right. That had been a thing. 

All the emotions hit Jeonghan like a truck. Relief (that you’re not breaking up with him), then affection (that you’re willing to do this for him), then guilt (that you’re willing to do this for him). 

He reaches across the table to place his hand on top of yours. Your eyes instinctively glance around your surroundings, checking to see if anyone is looking your way. Jeonghan tugs at your hand and shakes his head. Focus on me, he’s wordlessly saying, and for once, you do. 

“I love you, too. More than you know,” he says. “But I don’t want you to throw away your career for me. Who’s to say you won’t resent me down the line because of it? I— I couldn’t live with myself, sweetheart.” 

You squeeze Jeonghan’s hand reassuringly. “I’m not throwing anything away. I’m just compromising.” 

“I don’t want you to have to compromise anything for me.” 

“Compromise is part of a grownup relationship, Hannie. It’s a good compromise.” 

He must not look convinced, because you take things a step further. Instead of just clasping his hand in yours, you move to intertwine your fingers. There’s some comfort in the familiar feeling of your fingers in between the spaces of his. 

“Nothing is being thrown away,” you repeat, your tone brooking no argument. “I will not hate you tomorrow because of this.” 

Here’s the thing: Jeonghan trusts you implicitly, and not only with his SNS passwords. He trusts your no-nonsense attitude, your unshakeable feelings, your typically sound judgement. 

He wants to trust you now. He wants to believe so, so badly that there is something on the other side for the two of you, and that something would be exactly what the two of you deserve. 

He tongues the inside of his cheek as he considers your words. When he speaks, his voice is a lot smaller than he intends. 

“What about the day after tomorrow?” 

The initial confusion that flits over your expression is replaced by that grin he adores. 

“I’ll still love you the day after tomorrow,” you promise. 

He presses, “And the week after that?” 

“The week after that, too.” 

“What about the month after?” 

“I’ll do you one better— the year after, too.” 

You’re laughing, laughing in the way that he’s always tried to make you laugh, and it’s all Jeonghan needs to trust that things are going to be okay.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ Pritam, Mohit Chauhan, Irshad Kamil - Tum Se Hi

jeonghaniyoo_n my getaway, my favorite place Liked by ho5hi_kwon, everyone_woo, and 2,000,001 others View all 2,109 comments

Click. Click. Click. 

“What are you doing?” 

“What,” Jeonghan huffs, “A guy can’t take photos of his girlfriend?”

You throw a pillow in Jeonghan’s direction, though your terrible aim has it soaring right over his head. 

Ever since you left his company, Jeonghan has enjoyed an array of benefits that come with dating someone who is not your co-worker. The biggest of which happened to be all the time he’s now free to spend with you, most of which he’s happy to kill in his apartment. 

He’s still a little bit petulant about your new job, though, and he likes to voice it out as often as he can. 

“I bet Soobin has tons of photos of you,” he grumbles.

You pretend not to hear him. Jeonghan tries again. 

From the foot of the bed, Jeonghan begins to crawl over your legs. Your annoyed tsk goes ignored as he takes your laptop and sets it aside, dragging you away from your social media planning for page.soobin.

“He better not fall in love with you,” Jeonghan warns.

You let out a low hiss before swatting at your boyfriend, trying to get him off of you. He doesn’t budge, instead caging you in with his arms on either side of you. 

When he goes to kiss you, it bears none of the threatening front that he’s trying to put up. It’s a slow, sweet thing. A glimmer lighting up his cotton sheets. 

He only pulls away when he can no longer physically manage to keep kissing you. There’s the beginning of a grin on his face as his breaths come out in short pants, as his eyes stay closed. He’s savoring the moment, trying to remind himself how damn lucky he is even if the cost involves running his own SNS accounts henceforth. 

“I’ll give you your laptop back,” he murmurs, satisfied to have had an ounce of you.

But then you’re laughing, your fingers threading through his hair. You tug Jeonghan back down despite the fact that you’re just as breathless, and his lips curl into a full-on smile when they meet yours. 

He’d been happy with an ounce, yes, but who is he to complain when you give him the whole damn lot? 

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ 5 Seconds of Summer - Disconnected

jeonghaniyoo_n Do not disturb. 📵 - YJH Liked by sound_of_coups, joshua_acoustic, and 3,392,034 others View all 30,109 comments

diamonddaze01 NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ylangelegy just fell to my knees 💔 happy for you, king yourusername :-)

[adoriels-tears-if]

ADORIEL'S TEARS PROGRESS UPDATE

Hi everyone,

It's an even day, so I thought it would be a good time to give a quick summary of where I'm at with Adoriel's Tears.

As I hope you've noticed with the sneek peaks, I'm continuing to write in my corner and interacting a lot less here.

The last Q&A and some asks I received after it have a lot to do with it.

The end of 2024 and the beginning of this year has been and is hard for me in the real life I'm prioritizing, so I'm writing less regularly than before, but the days dedicated to this activity are generally enough to make up for the days off.

I lost a good part of my progress in mid-December due to an oversight on my part, but I eventually caught up.

So far, I've written the entire path of the Familiars and its various branches, added a little to the Plushie one and started the first scene of the one about Sirius.

This one is rich in branches and choices, but after having a fellow author read it, I know it's worth it.

I'm also continuing to polish up the old chapters and writing the Christmas special side story, which I'm thinking of charging for to be honest.

I've also decided that I won't be answering any more questions where Elianna and Ashlyen's names appear together and about how they're handling things with Mc. These questions have already been widely addressed and only serve to make me sullen and just want to either stop the whole thing or do a complete rewrite of the story, bypassing Mc's childhood.

I've also blocked Tumblr notifications as I found they were taking up too much space in my mind and I encourage anyone who might feel overwhelmed to do so if they wish.

That's it, I think I've covered it all, let's meet again for a new excerpt sharing very soon. 😊

Arielle.

[torchship-rpg]

Dev Diary 19 - State of the Union Part 1

It’s been a while, cosmonauts, but we’re back at it. This last week has been an incredibly productive one for Torchship, solving a ton of longstanding issues holding up the Alpha, and digging back into the art.

But you’re here for the mechanics, and boy, we have some pretty cool ones for you this Diary. Today we’re going to be talking about the meta-campaign and the core of what drives a multi-episode run of Torchship; playing not just to encounter little morality plays out in the stars, but to find out how the resolution of those issues changes things back home.

To be clear; this is campaign mechanics, and long campaign mechanics at that. You can play short campaigns and one-shots too, but we want to write a game that’ll hold up to truly epic campaigns, or sequential campaigns if you ever wanted to do Torchship: The Next Generation.

Your campaign can take you a great many places, but all of them revolve around one question:

The Star Union & Representative Agents

As we’ve mentioned before, the players are not just playing the crew of their spacecraft as they go trekking around the stars. That crew is the product of a society, and when the players are out making decisions in the stars, we assume that similar choices with similar reasoning are being made by the people back home.

For that reason, players get to have a lot of influence over the direction of the Star Union both through their actions in the actual episodes, and through decisions and votes they hold over what the Star Union does. This isn’t actually their characters deciding what’s happening unilaterally; it’s the assumption that your crew are, in a sense, the median voter. When the players decide to invest the Union’s resources into a certain upgrade path or project, this represents the Union’s population settling on that course of action for all the same reasons the characters would make that decision in their place.

For this reason, while you can be many things in Torchship, you can’t really be a rebel. If you try, you will be part of an enormous rebellious movement that will very quickly become the new authority and now you’re right back to your day job as a government employee, looking wistfully at your old leather jacket as you file a T-18 Use Of Telemat Report.

I can already hear your protests that you want to be a bold iconoclast that strikes out in defiance of the norms of society. I regret to inform you that you want this because it is a norm of your society to be a bold iconoclast striking out in defiance of things.

It’s The Economy, Stupid

The Star Union is mechanically represented with its own character sheet and its own stats; changing that sheet over time is your job. It’s relatively simple, with stats primarily acting as ways of gating your access to the cool upgrades that improve your capabilities, make your rocket better, and get you shiny new toys, but it matters a lot.

At the end of every Episode, you go into a mode of the game called Resupply. This quite literally represents the time passing as your rocket flies from one star to another, usually taking about one week before arriving at the next planet/on the television sets of households across the nation.

Resupply is a portion of the game which can be resolved immediately after the start of one episode or before the start of another, but one of the best ways to do it is during the time between your play sessions; it’s designed to be something easily hashed out over chat programs and the like. We’ll go into more detail about what you do there and how in the future, but the important part is knowing that this is when the Union’s economy starts mattering.

The Union has two sets of Economic stats. The first contains just a single stat, Productivity. This is how many Credits the Star Union generates at the end of each Episode because it has a bunch of factories and farms and stuff. Productivity is difficult and costly to increase; you can do so by starting Projects, with the amount of time and Credits required varying depending on what kind of Project it is. 

Getting infrastructure in place to exploit a rich belt of Very High Rotation asteroids for the valuable quark nuggets inside is a relatively quick and cheap project; it just requires you the players to find and secure such a resource. By contrast, building up Production through modernization and expansion of existing industrial capability is slow, hard work that will take multiple episodes to complete.

The second set of stats is the Infrastructure stats, covering all the stuff that production is used to maintain. These are Social, Technological, Military, and Redundant Infrastructure. Respectively, this is the Union’s standard of living, how shiny and new its stuff is, how big Star Force has gotten, and how many warehouses you have. You increase all of the stats by paying into funds for them, investing your Credits when you have a surplus until you’ve paid them off.

For the most part, these are used to gate access to upgrades; if you want that shiny new laser, you need to get Technology and Military Infrastructure to a certain point first. Redundant Infrastructure is the odd-man out; it doesn’t really give you access to many new Upgrades, but it has a vital function we’ll get to in a second.

Every point of Infrastructure costs 1 Credit per Episode to run, and at the start of the Campaign, the Star Union is overextended; it’s trying to take on all the costs and responsibilities of being the leading power of Local Space while simultaneously managing an enormous humanitarian crisis partially of its own making, and integrating a large number of refugees from the aforementioned enormous humanitarian crisis. Infrastructure will be higher than Production, and that means the balance has to be paid by none other than the Star Union’s exploration, diplomacy, and prospecting service.

That’s you.

This difference is called your Union Dues, and it's very important that you pay them. If you fail to pay, you’ll have to roll on the WHOOPS I FORGOT TO PAY THE POWER BILL table. Regrettably, this is not its final name, but it is what’s in the document right now.

You might think that this isn’t too big a threat; you’ll just always make sure to save up enough Credits to pay your Union Dues even if you have a bad Episode. That’s where we smile maliciously and tell you that you can’t. Societies don’t typically like sitting on huge amounts of surplus production and not using it on things that people want and need, so for that reason, the amount of Credits you can store between Episodes is limited by your Redundant Infrastructure. You know, Infrastructure you also have to pay for.

If your Dues aren’t out of control, you aren’t running too many Projects that you don’t want to fail, and you’re not burning your expensive consumables, then yes, you can usually meet your Union Dues no problem using the banked Credits from Redundancy. But a streak of bad episodes or out of control spending can send your campaign into a death spiral. The good news is that eventually, the Star Union will contract until it reaches equilibrium, either voluntarily or through terrible rolls.

The bad news is that the Star Union will contract until it reaches equilibrium, and you live in the Star Union! And so do a great many people who are going to have opinions about that.

Speaking of…

Getting Political

The Star Union is more than just a series of economic stats. All the people those stats represent have hopes and dreams, and more importantly, they have voting power on local councils. Being a direct democracy, the Star Union has a tendency to undergo pretty seismic political shifts very quickly when circumstances change, and any good campaign is going to have a lot of Circumstances.

To represent this, we use a series of Movements. You may remember us talking about these way back, or rather an earlier version of them; we’ve since expanded how they work and set up a system which allows them to exist alongside others.

So… let’s meet a Movement.

The Centralists are the Leading Movement at the start of your Campaign; they’ll be largely unopposed for the moment, but the Civil Anarchists and the Neo-Trotskyites are waiting in the wings and can join them in a coalition fairly easily.

What that means in practical terms is that they have the highest Power Rank at 5. As both a Major Power and the Leading Power, the Centralists give you two passive effects. Their Major Power bonus relates to Stability, which we’ll talk about in a moment, while their Leading Movement Effect is the benefit you get for being at 10-12 Unity on the Unity track. You’ll remember that from Dev Diary 15; that universal rule is actually just the default you get from these guys being in charge!

They also have a Taboo, which represents a value of this Movement, the violation of which discredits their influence; it’s stuff that makes them look hypocritical or disgusts their followers. For the Centralists, that’s failing to keep Promises made to groups in negotiation; their reputation is built around being the trustworthy and reliable ones that follow through on their deals.

Here’s some examples of other Movements’ Major Power Effect, Leading Movement Effect, and Taboo:

Progress Triggers

Movements advance in Power Rank by gaining Progress; that’s what is tracked on that neat little circular dial. At the end of each Episode, you go through the Triggers for all the active Movements and add Progress based on which ones got done. As a Movement rises in Power Rank, the Triggers are reduced in strength proportionally; at Rank 5, the only Trigger which actually gives the Centralists Progress is bringing new Members into the Union. Don’t worry, though; they have another means of keeping power.

You’ll notice that the 4 Progress trigger, Focus on Fundamentals, triggers when you miss Union Dues. A lot of Movements have triggers like this; this is where we put the stuff that the Movement specifically believes they’d do better. So when the Centralists are out of power, they get a boost from the economic mismanagement of whoever is, but once they have influence in government, failing to balance the budget isn’t going to work in their favour.

By extension, lower-value triggers tend to be things that drive or revitalise a weak Movement, while high-value triggers are triumphs or threats that validate them, either mobilizing a weak movement with a victory, or cementing the authority of a strong one.

For another example, here are the Neo-Trot Triggers. You can see how their lower triggers, the first ones to fade, are the relatively small fundamental issues that form the emotional foundation of the Movement; the Neo-Trots won’t be irrelevant so long as we keep finding planets ruled by jerks and evil computers, and their quest for increased military spending grows more pressing every time a Star Patrol rocket limps back full of holes.

The #4 trigger here ceases to help the Neo-Trots once they take power; it’s expected of them. Both the Centralists and Civil Anarchists get this trigger at 5 instead, which creates an interesting contradiction; once they’re in power, winning battles empowers their rivals because, through victory, they are making themselves obsolete. If they keep winning their fights, why do we need to shovel more resources into Star Force?

That’s why their highest triggers are stuff that give them more material power directly instead. Producing and distributing weapons increases the size of those sectors in the Union’s economy and bureaucracy, increasing their influence, while a war breaking out mobilizes the economy and places all their experts in positions of authority. This also, of course, gives them an incentive to keep arming people and fighting wars once they’re in power…

Stability

Each time an Opposition Movement (that’s any Movement which isn’t the Leading Movement) goes up by a Power Rank, it prompts a Stability Check. You also have to roll Stability Checks if you fail to pay your Union Dues. This is pretty simple; Stability is a number from 0-6 representing people’s faith in the current leadership of the Star Union. You roll 1d6 for each Stability Check; if the result is less than your current Stability, the Leading Movement loses 1d6 Progress, potentially sliding back to lower Power Levels. If that happens enough, they’ll be displaced as the Leading Power.

Note that passing Stability Checks has an effect; each test you pass lowers Stability by 1. Fortunately, restoring Stability is pretty easy; every Credit put into the Social Infrastructure fund raises Stability by 1, and incidentally also gives the Leading Movement 3 Progress. 

So basically, the Leading Movement can have whatever ideologically it wants, but once it's actually in power, it only stays in power by raising people’s standards of living, though it does benefit from a slow decay of everyone else’s Progress. If the Centralists spend the entire budget on giant golden statues of Yuri Gagarin, then they won’t be in power for very long, and if they really screw it up… well, that’s what Crises are for.

Endgames

Each Movement has a number of Endgames; the five major movements all have a sort of soft ‘win’ condition that cements their power in some way and makes a lasting change on your game. For example, Federation-Builders basically cements the Centralists’ power for the foreseeable future by having them make good on their promises, and in the process gain a new and fiercely loyal following.

Well, I say soft win condition; they aren’t always.

A ‘lose’ condition deactivates or disempowers a Movement, representing the movement breaking apart, being thoroughly discredited, or otherwise losing their ability to carry on. For the Centralists, the only thing that’ll knock them out of the game is the Cybernetic Democrats actually getting their wild experiment off the ground and fully implemented, which is a huge and expensive Project.

How severe these lose conditions are will vary. Some movements will be outright destroyed, either instantly or by fading out, but others are more resilient.

Finally, we have the Crisis. Crises are triggered if Stability hits 0, and they’re bad. The most survivable ones prompt multi-episode arcs in a mad scramble to save the Union; the worst functionally end the campaign. The Centralists being in charge when the state they build fails means that it all comes apart in their scramble to save it; the cordial competition for the future of the Union becomes a shooting war. This might be where you end your campaign, or it might be where you throw in with another Movement and try to win it for them!

Many Crises will be internal…

… but not all of them.

Expanded Movements

The five core movements we mentioned before are all primary Movements, with a full set of triggers, effects, and endgames. Each of them represents a potentially valid direction for the Union that you, as players, can choose to back or suppress. 

However, the nature of this system makes it very easy for us to add new Movements to the game. Most of these Movements are Minor Movements, with reduced triggers and rules which are usually single-issue and whose Endgames are simplified and easier to hit. Minor Movements don’t cause Stability hits when they gain Power Ranks and can’t take the Leading Faction slot, they can slot easily into a ruling coalition without breaking things, or fade once their purpose is achieved.

For an example, if you integrate the Nariene into the Star Union (either by defeating its current government or making an alliance that bypasses that; we’ll be talking about them in the next Dev Diary), you get the very pressing Minor Movement “Nariene Green Movement”, which is clamouring, quite reasonably, to have their planet saved from the runaway greenhouse effect they’re under. They’ll gain power quite quickly with triggers firing based on the Union’s economy growing, and once they hit Major they’ll mandate the funding of their Project. Once their homeworld is saved, their endgame is triggered and the Movement fades, leaving you with a nice permanent bonus as everyone in the Star Union gets a bit better at reducing, reusing, and recycling.

Not all late-joining Movements are Minors, though; some of them can very much become the Leading Power and change your game accordingly.

Finally… not all the Movements are intended to be viable paths forward. Movements can emerge in dire circumstances, reflecting adverse pressures, but they can also come out of your actions as Star Patrol, if you feed the worst impulses of the Union and give material power to bad actors.

Which is why you don’t start your campaign with five moments. You start with six.

[cyb3rk1tt13g1rl]

If we’re gonna do anything, we might as well just fuck

Summary: You and Hamzah are best friends, but after a smoke sesh leads to a conversation about sex, feelings arise between the two of you.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, usage of weed, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, choking, dirty talk, toys, gagging

Author's note: This is my first time writing in YEARS. The last time I wrote a fic was in like middle school. Due to the lack of hamzah fanfiction (I’ve literally read all of them), I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands😈. I also made it fast paced cause I struggle with building up to the moment so forgive me💔. I also didn’t proofread so forgive me for that as well.

Word count: 1399

“I just think that sex is a beautiful thing. I mean, it's two people coming together with their only goal being pleasure” I say after taking a hit of the joint Hamzah rolled for me. He never lets me roll, in his defense I am pretty shit at it. 

“I feel like everytime we’re high, all we seem to do is talk about sex” Hamzah replies, shortly after also taking a hit of his joint.

“Maybe we can do more than just talk about it?” I say with a slight smirk on my face.

Hamzah looks at me, smoke slightly blocking the view of his eyes. The truth is, I’ve always had a bit of a crush on him. I mean, how could someone not? He’s kind, funny, understanding, and has amazing biceps. Sometimes at night when I masterbate I imagine his bicep around my throat as he’s pounding into me relentlessly.

”Y/n… you’re high.”

”So? You’re telling me that you’ve never wanted to see naked? I mean come on, if we’re gonna do anything… we might as well just fuck.”

”God…” Hamzah says, blowing out a sigh. 

“You have no idea what you do to me, y/n.” 

In a flash, he’s on top of me. My back is pressed onto my living room floor, the spot we always sit at when we have our smoke sessions. His chest presses up against me, and I can feel his bulge start to grow. As his lips meet mine harshly, my hips start to grind on him, desperately searching for any form of friction.

”If you keep doing that, we won't make it to the bedroom.” He says as he places his hands on my waist, locking them in place.

Biting my lip, “That’s ok, the floor is comfy enough” I replied.

His lips meet mine again, even harsher this time somehow. My hands start to roam around his body, trying to memorize every muscle. My hands slowly make their way down to his cock. Teasingly, I slide two fingers slightly into the elastic of his underwear.

”Ok, that’s enough” he says as he lifts me up, and starts making his way to my bedroom.

Without remorse, he shoves me onto the bed, and rips off my pajama shorts, along with my lacy underwear.

“God, y/n. Even more perfect than what I imagined.”

”Please, do something” I beg him.

”So needy, aren’t you? What do you need from me? Huh? Tell me, baby.”

”Please, please, I need your tongue on my clit. So bad. Need it so bad, H.”

With that, he kneels down, kissing the inside of my thighs teasingly.

”Hamzah, I need you right now.”

His eyes meet mine while he’s still leaving wet kisses on my thighs.

”I see you don’t like it slow.” He says as his mouth finally makes contact with my needy clit.

”Oh my god, Hamzah, yes.” I moan out. 

His mouth and tongue work relentlessly, and when he enters a finger inside me, I scream out his name.

”Yes, y/n. Scream out my name. Let the neighbors know who this pussy belongs to.”

”Yes, Hamzah. Like that, don’t change anything. Gonna cum.” I groan out as my hands find their way to his curls. My head falls back involuntarily, with my eyes closed.

”Keep your eyes on me. Want to see your face as you cum. Wouldn’t want to punish you, would we?” He tells me.

Oh, but we would.

Refusing to look back at him,  he rips his finger out of me, along with removing his mouth from my nerves.

He slaps my pussy, making me moan out even louder.

“Oh, you like that? Why doesn’t that surprise me?”, he says, slapping it again.

His mouth finds its way back to where I need him most, and with a few more licks, and sucks, I cum.

”Fuck, Hamzah!” I scream out as he helps me ride through my orgasm.

”Please fuck me. I need your cock in me so bad. Want to be your slut.” I beg.

Without saying a word, he rips his pants off, then takes off my shirt, following with my bra.

”Fuck, y/n.” He says as he eyes me up and down.

”Get on the bed. Want to ride you.” I say.

As Hamzah gets on the bed next to me, I straddle him. Before I since I sit on him, I scoot myself down a bit so that my face is perpendicular to his hard cock. 

“This is a sight I could get used to”, Hamzah tells me as his hands grab my hair, makeshiftting a hair tie.

Taking his length into my hand, I pump him a few times before my tongue makes contact with his tip. 

Rolling my tongue around in circles for a bit, I finally but my mouth around his tip.

”Jesus fuck, y/n. That’s so good.”

Due to his praise, I move my mouth further down until it hits the back of my throat, making my eyes water. With a slight gag, I remove my mouth, pumping him with the saliva left over.

He looks so good. His eyes are red and glossed over. Hair a little messy from my hands. 

Removing my hand, I finally straddle him.

Before he enters me, I reach over to my nightstand.

”Oh, I have a condom in my wallet.” He says as he tries to get up. My hands push him down, forcing him to lie back down.

”That's ok. I wasn’t looking for a condom” I reply, pulling out my vibrator.

”Are you on the pill?”

”Yes. And I haven’t had sex with anyone without a condom. I’m ok with not using a condom if you are.” I reply, as I fidget with the vibrator.

”Yes, absolutely yes I’m ok with that. I also haven’t had unprotected sex so I’m clean.”

“Perfect.” I smile at him.

FInally, I positioned his tip to my opening.

”Oh, god” I moan as I feel him stretching me out.

”Fuck y/n. You’re so beautiful. So perfect.”

Bouncing on him, I get more comfortable and turn on my vibrator.

Positioning it on my clit, my head falls back.

”Fuck y/n. I love being inside you. So fucking perfect. Like your pussy was made just for me.”

As I continue riding him, he notices that I start getting tired as my thrusts get slower.

He grabs my hips and flips us over so that my back is against my bed. He stands on his knees, grabbing my left ankle, and placing it on his right shoulder. 

I’ve never had sex like this. It’s like he can read my mind about everything I want. 

As he grabs my throat with his left hand, I’m convinced he’s actually a mind reader.

The feeling of him thrusting into me without mercy, the vibrator on my clit, and his hand on my throat makes the familiar unraveling euphoria build.

My hands grab his wrist that’s on my throat, and with that he strengthens his grip.

”You’re so pretty, y/n. Don’t know how I’ve held back for this long. Could cum just thinkin’ about you.”

“Please don’t don’t stop, gonna cum” I scream out.

”Hold on just a bit, I’m almost there.”

When his thrusts start to slow and he starts to groan more and more, i place my hands on his chest, slightly scratching him with my nails.

When he groans louder in response, I scratch harder.

”Fuck y/n. You’re gonna make me cum.”

He places a hand on my tit, with my nipple in between in pointer and middle as if it was the joint he was smoking earlier.

With the last few thrusts, I cum, and shortly after he does too.

”Fuck, could stay here forever.” Hamzah tells me.

”I’m fine with that.” I reply with a dazed smile.

When he tries to exit from me, i wrap my legs around his waist, pushing him back in, making him wince in pain  and pleasure.

”Stay in me, please. Feels nice.”  I ask

”Ok” he says with a toothy smile.

He bends down, kissing at my neck and tits interchangeably until his head meets my chest.

”I never want to move from here.” I told him.

”Let’s just sleep like this.” He replies, kissing my skin afterwards.

And sleep like that we do.

Another authors note: please be nice y’all this is my first time writing smut❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹. 

[wato1876]

wato im halfway thru parrots unstable vid and the way you left actually hit me so hard. ARGHAGAGRG

everyone else acting: yeah, I don't know if this is it... wato1876: *on the verge of tears, staring at Wifies, "always have a way out"*

you make me sick /pos

I’m glad you enjoyed my amateur voice acting! Everyone puts in a lot of effort, I just find it very easy to put emotion in my words, and its fun, it adds depth to an otherwise very high octane. Disappointment is very common in unstable and that tone is heard a lot, but Wato wasn’t sad because *they themself* didn’t have a way out, yes they wanted to be safe, but essentially their entire world was crumbling around them, all their friends went every which way. Wato may have a hard outer shell, and extremely blunt, but what hurts more is seeing someone who cares so genuinely much about something being ripped at one by one. If Wato was the first to go, it wouldn’t have been as bad, but seeing everyone leave before him sunk him deeper and deeper into pain. The idea of Parrot seeing his final hope seep through his hands and the devastation he must feel really is what broke Wato.

I have experienced things like this IRL (obviously not as severe, but the sensation you get leaving high-school for the very last time, and standing alone as the field slowly clears for the very last time). I react the way I do because my character has a lot of empathy (the point it hurts him emotionally), and understands why people do things they do. Wemmbu abandoning Sky Civ -> He wants to save himself and truly didn’t care if it meant risking himself. Wifies leave Parrot last episode when going to Farlands -> He just wanted what was best for Parrot since he too saw Parrot ripping himself apart.

Wato secluded himself for so long because he knew he was susceptible to being hurt, and he knows having friends/attachments is a weakness. He knows they are but still cares about people. I tried to show Wato as a dynamic character that changes throughout the videos and reacts how any normal human would. Confused and scared. Not every line is perfect and every action won’t make full sense, but when have we- humans- been perfect.

I like the humanity in a character, the imperfections. That is what makes a good character. Not their tragic downfall, but just the limits of a being.

If I had a beefier computer, I’d make something insane. Editing speed because of lag is my only bottleneck. I love stories, always have. This is just a small slice of stories I want to convey. Even End Barrens was not to what I wanted it to be.

Wato1876

Thought I should at-least give y’all one big character lore drop before I go to bed for the night. What can I say, writing is fun.